Twelve Years of a Soldier's Life in India: Being Extracts From the Letters of the Late Major W. S. R. Hodson
B. A., Trinity College, Cambridge ; First Bengal European Fusileers, Commandant of Hodson’s Horse. Including a Personal Narrative of the Siege of Delhi and Capture of the King and Princes. Edited by his Brother, the , M. A., Senior Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. From the Third and Enlarged English Edition. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 1860. 16mo. pp. 414.
THIS book should be widely read ; or we might better say, this book will be widely read,—so widely, indeed, that there is no need for us to repeat its story here, or to give an abstract of its contents. Hodson was a man worth knowing, and his letters show him to us as he was. The special qualities of which Englishmen are proud, as the traits of national character, belonged in an uncommon degree to him. He was eminently truthful, staunch, and brave ; he had a clear eye, a strong and ready hand, cool judgment, stern decision, and a tender heart. He might have borne the old Douglas motto on his shield.
He was trained under as good teachers as a young man ever had. At Rugby, under Dr. Arnold; then, for a year or two, living among the ennobling associations of Trinity College; then at Guernsey, as a young soldier, under Sir William Napier; then in India, with James Thomason, Lieutenant-Governor of the Northwest Provinces, one of the. best rulers that India ever knew, “ facile princeps of the whole Indian service”; and finally passing from him to serve under Sir Henry Lawrence, the noblest soldier of India, a man for whom common words of praise are insufficient,— Hodson had an unrivalled set of masters, and his life proves him to have been worthy of them.
The British rule in India is of such sort as to test the qualities of its officers to the last point. If they have anything good in them, it is sure to be brought into full action. Such responsibilities are thrown on them as at once to stimulate them to exertion of their best powers. Men who in the ordinary fields of work might remain all their lives mere commonplace mediocrities, under the discipline of Indian service, find out and show their real value. The Indian mutiny exhibited how common the rare qualities of foresight, energy, and enduring courage, and the still higher qualities of submission, patience, and faith, had become among those against whom the natives rose like a flood to overwhelm them in destruction. The little bands of English at Cawnporo, at Lucknow, and at many a less famous station, stood like rocks against the dashing of the storm, The qualities that enabled them to win the admiration even of their enemies, and to call forth the respect and the sorrow of the world, were the result, not of sudden stress, but of long and habitual training. The reader of Hodson’s memoir will gain a knowledge of the processes by which such characters are developed.
The letters which make up the larger part of this book are written with animation and simplicity, and are full of spirited accounts of adventure, of rough and various service. The narrative which they afford of the siege of Delhi is of absorbing interest. The picture of the little army of besiegers, wasted by continual disease and exposure to the heats of an Indian summer,— worn by the constant sallies and attacks of a host of enemies trained in arms,—saddened by the receipt of evil tidings from all quarters,—feeling that upon their final success rested not only the hope of the continuance of British supremacy in India, but the very lives of those dear to them,—and, worst of all, compelled to submit to a succession of incompetent generals, whose timidity and irresolution baffled the best designs of officers and the dashing bravery of the troops ; — the pictures which Hodson gives of this little army, of its unflagging spirit and resolution, and its valorous deeds, are drawn with such truth as to bring the successive scenes vividly before the imagination. Hodson himself was one of the best and most useful of a noble corps of officers. His modesty does not hide the grounds of the enthusiasm which was felt for him by his men,—of the admiration that he excited among his fellows. The story of the capture of the King and Princes, after the fall of Delhi, is one of the most interesting stories of daring ever told. You hold your breath as you read it. It was a gallant deed, done in the most gallant way.
Altogether, the book is one of thoroughly manly tone and temper,—a book to make those who read it manlier, to put to shame the cowardice of easy life, to make men more honest, more enduring, more energetic, by the example which it sets before them, Hodson’s life was short, but its result will last. There was no sham about it, no meanness,—nothing but what was large, true, and generous. As one turns the last page, it is with no regret that such a man should have died in the fight, for he was a Christian soldier. He was the preux cheralier of our times. The words in which Sir Ector mourns for his brother, Sir Lancelot, are fit for his epitaph. “ ‘Ah, Sir Lancelot/ said bee, ‘thou were head of all christen knights ! An now I dare say,’ said Sir Ector, ‘that, Sir Lancelot, there thou liest, thou were never matched of none earthly knight’s hands ; and thou were the curtiest knight that ever bare shield; and thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrood horse ; and thou were the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were the. kindest man that ever strook with sword; and thou were the goodliest person that ever came among presse of knights: and thou were the meekest man and the gentlest that ever eate in hall among ladies ; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortall foe that ever put speare in the rest.’ ”