Your Affectionate Husband,
W.E. Chambers

In October, 1877, under the dingy arches of Euston Square Station, Major William Eubanks Chambers and Mary Baker Chambers said goodbye for what was probably the last time. She gave him a red silk neck handkerchief and some scent. What he gave her is not recorded. It may have been a kiss, although, judging by the stiffness of his letters, this is questionable. After a three month leave in England, he, at age 36, was on his way back to India for his twentieth year of service. He was doing the expected. His father and grandfather before him had served in India, and he had left school at l6 to go out and join the army at the time of the Great Mutiny in 1857.

His wife, at 34, was about to do the highly unexpected, and, for the time, downright improper. She was going to enter nurses training at St. Bartholomew's Hospital in London (family tradition says under Florence Nightingale). In the 1870's, ladies did not become nurses, and letter after letter from my grandfather reflects this. (December 20, 1877): “I think you were quite right to refrain from letting the infants know what you were doing as it could be of no use for them to know, and, as you say, might be the source of annoyance from the other school boys.” And again ( ): "Doubtless your daily work will help bring down your weight, and if so, it will not have been altogether fruitless an you could afford to lose a few stones with advantage." (April 3, 1878): "I can quite understand what you say about the 'sisters' who are not ladies by position disliking lady probationers but, of course, that was just what was to be expected in such a position."

The "infants" were William Lionel and Robert Stuart, ages 12 and 11 respectively and both called by their middle names. They had also both been born in India, at Barrack Pore, near Calcutta. They and my grandmother had apparently returned to England, by way of the United States, only shortly before the series of letters begins in March, 1877. That year they were in school under Mr. White in Brighton. Apparently Grandfather had also been to school there before he joined the army. In one of his letters to Lionel, he looked back with nostalgia to those happier days (August 3, 1878): “I used to be very fond of riding and went with another boy to Arundel Castle during the holidays. We started early, put up our horses at the Inn, made a sketch of the Castle or anything in the neighborhood which struck our fancy, then cantered back in time for dinner."

Happy days, but Major Chambers was not now a happy man. The separation from his wife doesn't seem to have been the major problem. This was a cold man. Allowing for Victorian reticence and the stiff upper lip, it's still hard to view "your” affectionate husband, W.E. Chambers" as an expression of great warmth, and that's almost all there is. Only twice did he let himself slip. The first letter to England after the separation began with the salutation "My dearest old Puss," the second with "My dear Puss," but that's it. After that it's always "My dear Mary." There are very few personal comments, and most of those can be characterized as "nags." For example, he chivvied her unmercifully about her weight. (April 17, 1878): "You never mention whether you are getting less stout than you were last year. This is a point I particularly wish to know." "You may send me as a birthday present a common photo of yourself showing full side view....On the back you can record your weight and I will keep it for a year or so till a fresh one is taken for purposes of comparison."

Not only was he obviously embarrassed by her nursing career, but he also tended to be rather snide about her ability to carry it through. In one letter he commented with surprise that she had now completed half the course, since he hadn't thought she'd last three months; and again (March l6, 1878): "The discipline you have to observe in your present work will be most beneficial to you, as the great defect in your character has always been willfulness arising from want of proper discipline in your youth."

From this period only his letters are in existence, so it's a little hard to tell how she reacted to all of this, but apparently, in the beginning at least, it was as any docile wife of her day should have. She obediently sent the side view photography, and measurements, and she seems to have followed her husband's detailed instructions about how the boys were to be handled, and referred all decisions to him.

Shortly after Major Chambers returned to Calcutta, he was sent as temporary second-in-command to the garrison at Shillong in Assam, a hill station at 5000 feet above sea level. Even he, a determined pessimist, had to concede that it was a delightful spot, despite the winter cold. But he felt insecure since he was only to be there while the commanding officers were on two year furlough in England. And there were all sorts of expenses. It comes as a surprise, after a hundred years, to learn just how much a British officer could be out of pocket in that period. For example, the Major had to pay all charges for his two week trip up from Calcutta, traveling first by train to Goalando, then by steamer up the great Brahmaputra River to Gowatty, and finally up into the hills by "tonga," pony cart. He had to buy a different uniform for duty at a hill station, dark green rather than the red of his former regiment. But, above all, there was the matter of his "charger." He had brought an Arabian up with him at great expense, but soon found that it was totally unsuited to the rough hillside parade grounds, thus being forced to buy a pony and sell the slightly injured horse at considerable loss.
His reactions to the natives are Interesting. He was there to control the rebellious hill tribes, especially the Nagas, who were giving trouble by waylaying carriers and attacking outlying tea plantations. Like Kipling, he saw the natives as "fuzzie-wuzzies" — poor beggars — yet he occasionally saw them with considerable sympathy. (January 27, 1878): "It is disputing work having to shoot down wretched savages whenever you can see them for the simple reason that if you are not the first to fire they will undoubtedly try to kill you. They seem to have enough of it after several of their villages have been set fire to and their scanty crops destroyed and are now inclined to sue for peace." He goes on to comment on the immorality of Shillong, where, despite the presence of English ladles, many of the men "openly live with Cassyah women, who are called Mrs. So-and-so, just as if they were properly married. It is horrible to see the children of these couples dressed half in English and half in native clothes. The Cossyahs are different to common natives...being more independent and more suited as companions for Englishmen...."