Iain Gordon - Soldier of the Raj: Life of Richard Fortescue Purvis 1789 - 1868

IAIN GORDON

Soldier
of the Raj

THE LIFE OF RICHARD PURVIS
17891868
SOLDIER, SAILOR AND PARSON

First published in Great Britain in 2001 by
LEO COOPER
an imprint of Pen & Sword Books
47 Church Street,
Barnsley,
South Yorkshire.
S70 2AS

Copyright Iain Gordon, 2001

ISBN 085052 847 X

A CIP record for this book is available from
The British Library

Printed in England by CPI UK

IN MEMORY OF

CATHERINE PURVIS (ne SOWERS)

WHO DIED AT WICKHAM, HAMPSHIRE

ON 3RD FEBRUARY 1789, AGED 31,

ONE MONTH AFTER THE BIRTH OF

HER SECOND SON

RICHARD FORTESCUE PURVIS

WHOSE STORY THIS IS.

General Map of Northern India, c.1805

The spelling of Indian place names in the early 19th century was widely inconsistent, often appearing in four different forms in as many documents. In particular, the hard a, pronounced as u in India (Gandhi is pronounced Gundhi) was usually rendered phonetically. Thus, Fatehghur may appear as Futteghur, Futteghar, Futtegur or even Futte Ghur. I have tried, as far as possible, to standardise on the forms used by the Geographical Institute in the late 1920s, by which time a discipline, of sorts, appears to have emerged. I have not, however, altered spellings in letter extracts where the meaning is clear.

I have made some alterations to punctuation in the letters but only where, in their original form, they were unclear or difficult to read. Similarly, I have altered spellings only for the same reasons and have avoided the persistent use of sic which I feel tends to spoil the rhythm of text when it appears too frequently.

Regiments of the British Army in India (as opposed to the Armies of the East India Company and, from 1858, the British Indian Army) are distinguished by the prefix H.M. Ships of the Royal Navy are distinguished in the Index by the prefix H.M.S. although this was seldom used in the early 19th century.

Officers entries in the Index show the rank which they ultimately achieved. In the few cases where I have been unable to identify an officer, I have included him with whatever information is implied within the correspondence. Thus Monckter, who from his despatches from Kamonah was clearly a serving officer, though I have been unable to find any record of him in the India Office archives, is simply listed as Monckter, Bengal Army.

O ne summer afternoon in the late 1950s, I forget the exact year, we were invited to tea with my wifes Great Aunt May Purvis who lived in a big house at Burghfield Common, near Reading in Berkshire.

When we arrived, the old lady was clearly in some distress: her housekeeper had gone down with influenza and she had no idea of how to make the tea herself. She had located the kitchen and identified what she believed to be a kettle but, beyond that, the transaction was a mystery to her. My wife told her not to worry and soon had things under control.

After tea Great Aunt May began to talk about her late husbands family, the Purvises, and encouraged by our attentiveness and obvious interest, confided in us that there was a matter which was causing her much concern: her husband had started life in the Royal Navy and had transferred to the Egyptian Coastguard Service in 1890, becoming its Director-General in 1918. He had retired in 1922, with the rank of Miralai and Pasha, and had died some twenty years previously in 1936. He came from a long line of Admirals, she told us, his family having been prominent in the Navy for over 200 years, and he had inherited many historical letters and documents from his illustrious forebears. It was these that were causing her such concern she and her husband had had no children themselves and both her husbands younger brothers had died young in the Indian Army. Those documents she had herself identified as valuable, including letters from Lord Nelson, Lord St. Vincent, Lord Collingwood and the Duke of Wellington, she had already presented to the National Maritime Museum at Greenwich. There also appeared to be some connection with the Austen family as there were various other items she had placed in the care of the Jane Austen Memorial Trust.

There was a distant cousin, she told us, who was the Black Sheep of the Family and had served a prison sentence for fraud (I shall not identify him). It was imperative that none of her remaining Purvis treasures should fall into his hands on her death as he would promptly sell them to the highest bidder as he had already done with such heirlooms as he had inherited. She now wished to ensure that all remaining items of family or historical importance were either specified in her Will or were clearly earmarked to pass on to someone who would appreciate their significance and would look after them properly.

She showed us round her house pointing out various objects and pictures but, sadly, we took in only a fraction of what she told us. In Purvis Pashas study the blinds were drawn. She had honoured her late husband in the same way as Queen Victoria had honoured hers, having left the room untouched, apart from cleaning, since the day in 1936 when he had died. His pen lay beside an unfinished letter and a copy of The Times lay folded and unread upon the desk. In the window bay stood a small, brass-bound, leather trunk about two feet long by one foot deep and one foot high. It was a Midshipmans chest, she said, which had belonged to one of her husbands ancestors and had been aboard the Victory at the Battle of Trafalgar. We also understood her to say, though we might have remembered incorrectly she told us so many things that day that this ancestor had been a friend of one of Jane Austens brothers who was also a Midshipman in the Navy.

While my wife was shown round upstairs I had to remain in the drawing room gentlemen were not allowed upstairs and when she came down she had a bundle of family papers from which, she explained, she had already extracted anything of obvious value and was now uncertain what to do with the remainder. She did not want them to be burned after her death as she had often seen done when houses were being cleared. Knowing that I wrote articles on military history, she wondered if I would be interested in them and could be trusted to keep them safe. I promised her I would.