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Personal Accounts of Life in 19th Century British India


GCCE1854
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For some years, I've worked at researching a few soldiers serving in British India (mostly with the HEIC) and have always enjoyed any chance to search through HEIC Cadet Application papers and old newspapers, etc. Anything to make that bit of history seem real. So, I thought it might be nice to have a thread where any personal accounts could be posted about life in 19th-century British India. 

 

A book recommended to me was A Soldier of the Company: Life of an Indian Ensign 1833-43 by Captain Albert Hervey. The edition I have was edited by Charles Allen in association with the National Army Museum, being a single volume edition abridged from the original 1850 3-volume edition.

Usually, when you're researching things from historical eras, it's easy to fall back on contemporary newspaper reports. This description of a General's funeral struck me, because it's so different to read an account by a gent actually there -- rather than the usual reported stuff.

This is taken from pages 80-81:

          A few months after our arrival at the presidency, the old general who commanded our division was taken ill and died. I shall never forget this officer's funeral. I must recount the occurrences of that day; fatal to many a poor brave soldier.

          Being a general officer, the whole brigade at Madras was turned out to follow the remains to the grave. He was to be buried at St. George's Cathedral, distant about three miles from the fort. The corps forming the funeral party were HM ---- foot (recently arrived from New South Wales, and consequently not accustomed to the heat), and the ----, with which I was doing duty. The funeral was to take place at half past five o'clock in the evening, and the troops were ordered to be in position, forming a street to the burial ground, by five o'clock. Not being probably aware of the distance, and fearing lest they should be late, the colonel of the European corps paraded his men at about two o'clock, in the barrack-square, inside the fort, when the sun was most intense, and the ground burning like fire. Little did the gallant colonel know of the mischief that was being done.

          We marched from our barracks, and came upon our ground in excellent time, but considerably after the other regiment. They had been at the cathedral some hours before us, and the effect which the march up had had upon the men was lamentable. They were all in full dress; the weight of those abominable chacos consequently added to their discomfort. A great many of the men were obliged to fall out on account of their inability to proceed; some tumbled down in fits, and when we came up we saw the roadside lined with these poor fellows lying in all directions.

          I happened to be standing with my company close to where two or three of these poor soldiers were lying gasping. I therefore called my servant, and immediately mixing some brandy and water, gave each soldier a drink, as far as it would go. They thanked my honour most gratefully, and felt revived. These men, after drinking what I gave them, got up, brushed off the dust from their clothes and joined the ranks, while others were carried back to the fort, and I think I am not wrong in saying that several died from the effects of the exposure.

          It was indeed a most distressing sight to behold men falling down and dying, when in the very act of burying the dead! All arose from mismanagement.

          The funeral was a very grand and impressive one. The band with muffled drums playing the solemn dead march; the regular tramp of the troops as they moved in silent procession with arms reversed, the coffin with its military appendages, all combined to make a deep impression on the mind of the young officer, at least it did so on me; and I shall never forget the effect, the thrilling effect, which the roll of the three volleys of musketry had upon me; those three last tokens of military pomp and consequence, paid as a requiem to the departed one.

          On an occasion of this description, the soldier's farewell shot, as it reverberates in the distance, tends more to fill the mind with serious feelings than any other part of the ceremony; but the business over, and when the troops return to their barracks to the spirit-stirring tune of some favourite quick march, those feelings become speedily dispelled, and the circumstance is soon forgotten, or treated as a matter of everyday occurrence. Such is the soldier's life, and such will it be, until wars shall cease and the profession of a soldier shall be as a thing that had no existence!

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