Originally published in Howitt's Journal (William & Mary Howitt) vol.3 #61 (26 Feb 1848).
Since no one can imagine that the epithet of a "thick-skull" refers so much to the density of the external bone, as the density of the brain within, it would appear that military commanders entertain a fixed opinion that anything in the world may be done with the skulls of their men, and the said men never find out that they are treated either as beasts of the field, or fools of the barracks. Their backs may be flogged till bereft of skin, and the blade-bones become visible; they may be cast into dark dungeons for any period, there to linger upon bread and water, and constant midnight; and they may be hanged up to any tree, or their skulls may be blown to pieces—not in the regular way of business and by the infuriate foe,—but as a special example of "discipline" by their own friends, and in cool blood. A striking instance of this has recently occurred in India.
If the "sacredness" of human life be at the mercy of the slightest movement of a minister's pen, a field-marshal's baton, or a naval commander's momentary impulse, and that, directly or indirectly, the noble gift of God, can be instantly snatched away by a man in "authority," and cast back before the footstool of its Creator; and if we, living in a state of what is called highly ciVilized society, must hear ourselves assured that these legalized murders are necessary as great examples (which we deny) we must still feel strongly that it is permitted to the denizens of every free country, and imperatively demanded at the hands of the public writer, to enter his solemn protest against all useless cruelties, and to denounce all revolting exhibitions of horror, and hold them up to public execration. They are most undoubtedly "examples" (of something) but as to their effect, they are utterly demoralizing and breed a spirit of mortal hatred and resistance in all those whom they are intended to overawe.
It appears that, under the imposing term of "discipline" military commanders, and many others who ought to know better, consider that any crimes against humanity, any deliberate barbarity, any possible atrocity may be committed. They may be committed, it seems, not only without reprehension, but with a certain side-wind of commendation.
"A terrible example" says the Times (December 29th) "has lately been given of military discipline in India." How exemplary this discipline, a few words which should be printed in letters of blood, will suffice to display.
The soldiers' life in India, when not engaged in active service, is of a kind the monotony and vacuity of which are of the most wearisome and intolerable description. Having really nothing to do, he is ordered long purposeless drills, marches and counter marches, over the same dull piece of ground, after which he again returns to his loitering, and dozing, and drinking of rum, until he experiences all the self-disgust of utter idleness. His existence eventually becomes unbearable, and he commits some offence, solely in the hope of getting transported—anything for a change, and to save himself from going mad. Several offences have recently been committed in the army in India with no other object. With a view to stop this desire for transportation—to cure this natural yearning after some relief—the Commander-in-Chief has taken to shooting the men. He hopes by these means to reconcile all the rest to their situation, reclaim them to a sense of the pleasures of duty, and revive in their hearts the love of a military life in India.
Here is the whole pith and poison of the matter, very fairly and fully stated, from the Times newspaper:—"Now the point to which we would particularly direct attention is the moving cause of all this fearful disorganisation, It will at once have occurred to any one familiar with such matters, that the ordinary materials of mischief could not solely have been at work here. An injudicious commanding officer, tyrannical sergeants, the leaven of a few bad spirits, an unpopular station, or occasionally, even too severe a service, will doubtless disorganise any particular corps and produce such disasters as these. But here it is morally impossible that such conditions should have concurred, in different regiments, and in different quarters, to develope, at the same time, the same examples of mutiny. Some one predominant influence must have been operating throughout all the cantonments quite irrespective of the peculiar constitution of the corps; and it happens that we are left in no doubt as to what this influence is. It is simply the intolerable burden of the every-day life of a soldier in India. The punishment of imprisonment was avowedly inefficient, only because it was found less irksome than ordinary duty. Transportation was equally useless as a threat, because the men preferred any imaginable prospect to the reality before them. The sufferer in the case related above, made no secret of his motives. The officer whom he had insulted was not an abusive or an aggravating sergeant, but one whose disposition was peculiarly inoffensive. In fact, he avowed on the courtmartial that he had committed the crime solely because he was weary of his life, and would fain be transported; so that he had no more criminal intention of breaking the articles of war, than a poor creature has of outraging the laws of his country, who smashes a pane of glass in order to get a night's lodging in the station-house. Surely such conditions as these cannot be the inevitable conditions of military life in India, otherwise it is but too clear that even the most terrible penalty will fail to preserve discipline, and that of the two horrible alternatives which we humanely submit to the soldier, the discharge of his bounden duty will appear the worst. It is necessary, perhaps, that we should inform our readers that the conditions alluded to do not involve any tremendous service, any intolerable privations, any unparalleled exposure, or any vindictive severity at the hands of the officers. On the contrary, the duty in these parts is mainly confined to the drilling grounds; rum and rations are almost unlimited; of exposure there is literally nothing; and the spirit of the officers has been shown by a refusal, in more than one case, to pass sentence of death, even at the direct instance of the Commander-in-chief, conveyed in no palatable terms. The truth is, that it is just this absence of every possible rational occupation which has engendered the evil."
Observe this well, all ye who love peace, and desire to see the social and intellectual progress of humanity—the British soldier has at last discovered that his head was given him for other purposes than to be a mark for bullets—that he has a mind as well as a bayonet—and that he is capable of desiring rational occupation to a degree that drives him half mad!
Let us now turn to contemplate the "exemplary" fate of the last victim, who is stated to have raised his hand against a sergeant of no tyrannical or bad nature, and with no provocation, but having literally no other object than to get transported from a maddening life of idleness and monotony—this man's last scene is thus recorded.
"The awful apparatus of a military execution was duly arranged—the open square, the muffled drums, the dead march, and the silent muster. The prisoner was left kneeling on his coffin before the firing party, and the fatal signal was given,—when a slight shiver was the only perceptible result of the volley which should have sent him to his last account. The reserved fire of the rear rank was delivered with no greater effect, and the horror of the scene was consummated by the act of the Provost Marshal, who in discharge of his hideous duty stepped up with a pistol and literally blew the criminal's skull to atoms."
Here is discipline in its most exemplary form! Could any reasonable Commander-in-Chief wish for more? Nor was this all. It was attended with the narrow escape of a second victim.
"In his agitation he directed the pistol sideways instead of against the butt, and the ball, after doing its deadly work, actually passed through the cap of a man in the ranks, who thus escaped by an inch the fate of his guilty comrade."
This would have been one of those arguments that "prove too much." But does not this monstrous scene already prove too much? We think so. What says our contemporary just quoted.
"It is not," continues the writer, "with any desire of questioning the necessity of these examples, that we have introduced so fearful a subject."
Not!—surely the duty of a public journalist lies the other way? It is expressly to question this diabolical act, misnamed a necessity, that we now address our readers. These hideous examples—of what are they examples? Of ignorance, chiefly; of wilful blindness, in part, and of old despotic habits in the army, too, rooted in evil and arrogance to be moved by the reforming, refining, and enlarging intelligence of the present times. We have, at last, found out that the British soldier is not a mere machine; and that he actually has his own human nature at bottom—and enough of mind (though canteens are encouraged, and reading-rooms are discountenanced) to be capable of loathing utter idleness, and of being driven nearly insane by the sheer futility of monotonous days—hopeless days, listless and stupified, full of oaths and rum, and dull vice, and self-loathing—and of the objectless and intolerable drudgery of drills up and down—marches and counter-marches without end—halt, right wheel, and halt, left wheel, equally to go nowhere—right about face, only to see what he has seen already to sickening sameness—forward, as before—evermore "as you were." To escape from this he has risked the chance of death—and found it. He did not care about his life, but he had in fact, intended only to get himself transported to some other place, he cared not where, to do some other sort of thing, he cared not what. The Commander-in-Chief, however, thought that an "example" was necessary, and that this poor fellow would make a particularly good one—and so "his skull was blown to atoms."
But there is one thing in all this, far more important than the display of how contemptuous an estimate is formed by a military commander of the heads or hearts of the men whose lives have been placed at his disposal. It is the very marked circumstance of the fire of an entire rank of men missing the object, succeeded by a collective fire from the rear rank with precisely the same result. Let commanders endeavour to see something in this, besides a bad aim, or a feeling of "insubordination"—let them see the spirit of outraged nature in it, and have a care how they carry their contempt of their fellow-creatures to so insufferable a pitch. There will come of it much more than mere mutiny.