I hurried to Calcutta, embarked in the first mail-steamer, and landed at Rangoon on the 9th November.

Sir Charles Bernard (the Chief Commissioner) and General White had done well under very difficult circumstances; but owing partly to large districts being impassable from months of heavy rain, and partly to the change in Commanders, unavoidable inaction had been forced upon our troops, and the dacoits had in consequence made head against us.

Having been in constant correspondence with General White, I had been kept informed of his plans, and, as his responsible Chief, I had approved of them; I therefore had the somewhat complicated military situation at my fingers' ends, and did not need to lose a single day in arranging for a series of combined movements being carried on all over the country.

It was hoped that the recently arrived reinforcements would be sufficient for all requirements, but it soon became apparent that the difficulties connected with the pacification of Burma had been under-rated, and that, in addition to more troops, an efficient civil administration would have to be provided, to take the place of military authority so soon as anything like organized resistance had been crushed; for to deal with ordinary robbers I conceived to be work more suited to police than to soldiers. Upwards of thirty years' experience had proved that the Burmese could not be relied upon for this kind of service; I therefore recommended that a large body of police should be raised in India without delay, and given a semi-military organization, and in the meantime I asked for, and was given, five additional regiments.

I felt very confident of success, for I had taken great care in the selection of the brigade commanders and staff officers, and I knew the troops could be depended upon in any emergency that was likely to arise. Nevertheless, as the work they would have to perform was of rather an unusual character, irksome as well as difficult, I thought it advisable to issue some general instructions for the guidance of the officers in command of the different columns.[3] These instructions were carried out so intelligently, and the troops did such good service, especially a very fine body of Mounted Infantry raised and organized by Major Symons, of the South Wales Borderers, that before I returned to India in February, 1887, I was able to report that the country was gradually becoming quiet and the Burmese reconciled to our rule. Most of the principal dacoit leaders had been killed or captured, and villages which had been in their hands for months were being reoccupied by their legitimate inhabitants; caravans were coming into Mandalay almost daily from districts on the Chinese borders; contracts for making roads were readily taken up, and there was no difficulty in obtaining labour for the railway then being constructed between Lower Burma and Mandalay, the first sod of which was turned within a month of my arrival at that place.

In achieving these satisfactory results I was materially aided by the hearty co-operation of Sir Charles Bernard and the civil officers serving under him; while the entire absence of fanaticism amongst the Burmese, and their cheerful, happy natures, facilitated our intercourse with them. I received, besides, most valuable assistance from the Buddhist Poonghies, or monks, with many of whom I made friends. From the fact that education, secular and religious, is imparted by these monks, and that every male, from the King to the humblest peasant, was obliged to enter a monastery and wear the saffron garb of a monk for a certain period, the priesthood had enormous influence with the Burmese. There are no hereditary Chiefs or Nobles in Burma, the Poonghies being the advisers of the people and the centre round which Native society revolves.

Our occupation of Upper Burma was necessarily a great blow to the Buddhist priesthood, for many of the monasteries[4] were kept up entirely by the King, Queen, and Ministers of State; and, as it was most advisable to have the influence of the monks in our favour, I recommended that a monthly stipend should be paid to the Archbishop and two senior Bishops of Mandalay. They showed their gratitude by doing all they could to help me, and when I was leaving the country the old Thathanabain (Archbishop) accompanied me as far as Rangoon. We corresponded till his death, and I still hear occasionally from one or other of my Poonghie friends.

I remained only a short time in Calcutta on my return to India, and then started off again for the North-West Frontier, in company with General Chesney, who had previously expressed his general concurrence in my defence proposals, but was anxious to see the several positions and judge for himself, from an Engineer's point of view, of their suitability to be treated as I suggested. It was a great source of contentment to me to find that the sites chosen and the style of entrenchments I had advocated commended themselves to my expert companion.

Simla was more than usually gay during the summer of 1887, in consequence of the numerous entertainments given in celebration of Her Majesty's Jubilee. We had just added a ballroom to 'Snowdon,' and we inaugurated its opening by a fancy ball on the 21st June, in honour of the auspicious anniversary.

My name appeared in the Jubilee Gazette as having been given the Grand Cross of the Indian Empire, but what I valued still more was the acceptance by the Government of India of my strong recommendation for the establishment of a Club or Institute in every British regiment and battery in India. In urging that this measure should be favourably considered, I had said that the British Army in India could have no better or more generally beneficial memorial of the Queen's Jubilee than the abolition of that relic of barbarism, the canteen, and its supersession by an Institute, in which the soldier would have under the same roof a reading-room, recreation room, and a decently-managed refreshment-room.

Lord Dufferin's Government met my views in the most liberal spirit, and with the sanction of Lord Cross 'The Regimental Institute' became a recognized establishment, a fact which my colleagues in Council referred to as a second Jubilee honour for me!

At a time when nearly every soldier could read and write, and when we hoped to attract to the army men of a better stamp and more respectable antecedents than those of which it was composed in 'the good old days,' it appeared to me a humiliating anachronism that the degrading system of the canteen should still prevail, and that it was impossible for any man to retain his self-respect if he were driven to take his glass of beer under the rules by which regimental canteens were governed. I believed, too, that the more the status of the rank and file could be raised, and the greater the efforts made to provide them with rational recreation and occupation in their leisure hours, the less there would be of drunkenness, and consequently of crime, the less immorality and the greater the number of efficient soldiers in the army. Funds having been granted, a scheme was drawn up for the erection of buildings and for the management of the Institutes. Canteens were reduced in size, and such attractions as musical instruments were removed to the recreation-rooms; the name 'liquor bar' was substituted for that of 'canteen,' and, that there should be no excuse for frequenting the 'liquor bar,' I authorized a moderate and limited amount of beer to be served, if required, with the men's suppers in the refreshment-room—an arrangement which has been followed by the happiest results.

At first it was thought that these changes would cause a great falling off in regimental funds, but experience has proved the reverse. With good management, the profits from the coffee-shop and the soda-water manufactory far exceed those to be derived from the canteen, and this without permitting anyone outside the regiment to purchase from the coffee-shop and without interfering at all with local tradesmen.

Another measure which I succeeded in carrying through the same year was the amalgamation of the various sectarian societies that existed in India for the prevention of drunkenness in the army into one undenominational society, under the name of the Army Temperance Association, which I hoped would admit of more united action and a more advantageous use of funds, besides making it easier for the Government to assist the movement. The different religious and 'total abstinence' associations had no doubt done much towards the object they had in view, but their work was necessarily spasmodic, and being carried on independently of regimental authority, it was not always looked upon with favour by officers.

There was of necessity at first a good deal of opposition on the part of the promoters of the older societies, but those who were loudest in denouncing my proposals soon came to understand that there was nothing in the constitution of the Army Temperance Association which could in any way interfere with total abstinence, and that the only difference between their systems and mine consisted in mine being regimental in its character, and including men for whom it was not necessary or expedient to forego stimulants altogether, but who earnestly desired to lead temperate lives, and to be strengthened in their resolve by being allowed to share in the advantages of the new Institution.

To make the movement a complete success, it was above all things important to secure the active co-operation of the ministers of the various religions. To this end I addressed the heads of the different churches, explaining my reasons and the results I hoped to attain in establishing the amalgamated association, and I invited them to testify their approval of the scheme by becoming patrons of it. With two exceptions, the dignitaries to whom I appealed accepted my invitation, and expressed sympathy with my aims and efforts, an encouragement I had hardly dared to hope for, and a proof of liberal-mindedness on the part of the prelates which was extremely refreshing.

The Government of India were good enough to sanction the allotment of a separate room in each soldiers' Institute for the exclusive use of the Association, where alcohol in any shape was not admitted, and to the grant of this room I attribute, in a great measure, the success of the undertaking. The success was proved by the fact that, when I left India, nearly one third of the 70,000 British soldiers in that country were members or honorary members of the Army Temperance Association.

[Footnote 1: The homes at Quetta and Wellington were eventually taken over by Government, and Lady Roberts' nurses, who worked in the military hospitals at these stations, were replaced by Government nurses when the increase to the Army Nursing Service admitted of this being done.]

[Footnote 2: When the 'Homes in the Hills' are closed during the cold months, these nurses attend sick officers in their own houses in the plains, free of charge except travelling expenses.]

[Footnote 3: These instructions are given in the Appendix. (See Appendix XI.)]

[Footnote 4: Monasteries in Burma are not merely dwelling-places for the monks, but are the schools where all education is carried on.]

* * * * *



CHAPTER LXVII. 1887-1888

Defence and Mobilization Committees—The Transport Department —Utilization of Native States' armies —Marquis of Lansdowne becomes Viceroy—Rajputana and Kashmir —Musketry instruction—Artillery and Cavalry training

In December I made a prolonged tour along the North-West Frontier, accompanied by my wife, who was greatly delighted at being able at last to see many places and meet many people of whom she had often heard me speak. Part of this trip was made in company with the Viceroy and Lady Dufferin, who visited all the principal stations on the frontier, including Quetta. I rode with Lord Dufferin through the Khyber Pass, and to the top of the Kwaja Amran range, our visit to this latter point resulting, as I earnestly hoped it would, in His Excellency being convinced by personal inspection of the advantage to be gained by making the Kohjak tunnel, and of the necessity for our endeavouring to cultivate more friendly relations with the border tribes. We ended this very enjoyable tour at Rawal Pindi in order to be present at the winding-up of a Cavalry Camp of Exercise in the neighbourhood. There were assembled together under the direction of Major-General Luck one regiment of British and eight regiments of Native Cavalry, with two batteries of Royal Horse Artillery, and it was a pretty sight, their advance at full gallop, and the halt, as of one man, of that long line of Cavalry within a few yards of the Viceroy, for the Royal salute. The spectators were much impressed with Lord Dufferin's nerve in being able to remain perfectly calm and still on his horse in the face of such an onslaught, and it certainly did seem rather close quarters; but General Luck knew his regiments, and had confidence in his men, and we knew General Luck.

In the early part of 1888 I visited all the chief military stations in the Bengal Presidency, and attended Camps of Exercise for all arms, held at Rawal Pindi, Umballa, Meerut, and Lucknow, before going to Calcutta for the usual discussion on the Budget; after which the Government generally breaks up for the hot weather, and assembles in Simla two or three weeks later.

During 1887 and 1888 much useful work was got through by the Defence Committee, and by another Committee which was assembled for the consideration of all questions bearing upon the mobilization of the army. As Commander-in-Chief I presided over both, and was fortunate in being able to secure as my secretaries two officers of exceptional ability, Lieutenant-Colonel W. Nicholson, R.E., for defence, and Lieutenant-Colonel E. Elles, R.A., for mobilisation. It was in a great measure due to Colonel Nicholson's clear-sighted judgment on the many knotty questions which came before us, and to his technical knowledge, that the schemes for the defence of the frontier, and for the ports of Bombay, Karachi, Calcutta, Rangoon and Madras, were carried out so rapidly, thoroughly and economically as they were;[1] and with regard to measures for rendering the army mobile, Colonel Elles proved himself equally capable and practical. The Secretary to Government in the Military Department, Major-General Edwin Collen, was a particularly helpful member of the Committees[2] from his intimate acquaintance with the various subjects which had to be discussed.

If my readers have had the patience to follow in detail the several campaigns in which I took part, they will have grasped the fact that our greatest difficulties on all occasions arose from the want of a properly organized Transport Department, and they will understand that I was able to make this very apparent when the necessity for mobilizing rapidly only one Army Corps came to be seriously considered. We were able to demonstrate conclusively the impossibility of putting a force into the field, sufficiently strong to cope with a European enemy, without a considerable increase to the existing number of transport animals, and without some description of light cart strong enough to stand the rough work of a campaign in a country without roads; for it is no exaggeration to say that in the autumn of 1880, when I left Kandahar, it would have been possible to have picked out the road thence to Quetta, and onward to Sibi, a distance of 250 miles, with no other guide than that of the line of dead animals and broken-down carts left behind by the several columns and convoys that had marched into Afghanistan by that route.

Soon after I took over the command of the Army in India, while voyaging to Burma, I had brought this most pressing question of transport to the notice of Lord Dufferin, who, with his usual quick appreciation of a situation, at once fully recognized its urgency, and promised to give me all possible help in my endeavour to render the army mobile—a promise which he amply fulfilled by taking a keen personal interest in the proceedings of the Committee, and giving his hearty support to our various recommendations.[3]

Our labours resulted in several thousand good pack animals (chiefly mules) being purchased, and information collected and recorded as to the districts where others could be rapidly procured in case of emergency. A transport service was established, for which officers had to go through a regular course of instruction, and pass an examination in the loading and general management of the animals. A prize was offered for a strong, useful light cart; and when the most suitable had been selected, large numbers were made up of the same pattern.[4] The constitution of two Army Corps, to be in readiness for taking the field on short notice, was decided upon, and the units to form the several divisions and brigades were told off and provided with the necessary equipment. A railway time-table was prepared, giving the hours at which the troops should leave their stations so as to avoid any block en route. Special platforms were constructed for training and detraining Cavalry and Artillery, and storehouses were erected and stocked at those stations where road marching would probably commence. Finally the conclusions we had arrived at were embodied in a manual entitled 'General Regulations for Mobilization.' It was extremely gratifying to me to learn from India that this manual, with such additions and alterations as our subsequent experience in Burma and various frontier expeditions proved would be advantageous, was the guide by which the Chitral relieving force was last year so expeditiously and completely equipped and despatched.

Of the many subjects discussed and measures adopted during this the last year of Lord Dufferin's Viceroyalty, I think the scheme for utilizing the armies of Native States, as an auxiliary force for the service of the Empire, was the most important both from a political and military point of view.

The idea was, in the first instance, propounded by Lord Lytton, who appointed a committee to consider the pros and cons of the question. I was a member of that committee, but at that time I, in common with many others, was doubtful as to the wisdom of encouraging a high state of efficiency amongst the troops of independent States; the excellent work, however, done by the Native Contingent I had with me in Kuram, and the genuine desire of all ranks to be allowed to serve side by side with our own soldiers, together with the unmistakable spirit of loyalty displayed by Native Rulers when war with Russia was imminent in 1885, convinced me that the time had arrived for us to prove to the people of India that we had faith in their loyalty, and in their recognition of the fact that their concern in the defence of the Empire was at least as great as ours, and that we looked to them to take their part in strengthening our rule and in keeping out all intruders. I believed, too, that we had now little to fear from internal trouble so long as our Government continued just and sympathetic, but that, on the other hand, we could not expect to remain free from outside interference, and that it would be wise to prepare ourselves for a struggle which, as my readers must be aware, I consider to be inevitable in the end. We have done much, and may still do more, to delay it, but when that struggle comes it will be incumbent upon us, both for political and military reasons, to make use of all the troops and war material that the Native States can place at our disposal, and it is therefore to our advantage to render both as efficient and useful as possible.

The subject was, of course, most delicate and complex, and had to be treated with the greatest caution, for not only was the measure adapted to materially strengthen our military position in India, but I was convinced it was politically sound, and likely to be generally acceptable to the Native Rulers, provided we studied their wishes, and were careful not to offend their prejudices and susceptibilities by unnecessary interference.

It was very satisfactory to find how cordially the Chiefs responded to Lord Dufferin's proposals, and extremely interesting to watch the steady improvement in their armies under the guidance of carefully selected British officers. Substantial results have been already obtained, valuable help having been afforded to the Chitral expedition by the transport trains organized by the Maharajas of Gwalior and Jaipur, and by the gallantry of the Imperial Service Troops belonging to His Highness the Maharaja of Kashmir at Hunza-Naga and during the siege and relief of Chitral.

Two minor expeditions took place this year: one against the Thibetans in retaliation for their having invaded the territory of our ally, the Raja of Sikim; the other to punish the Black Mountain tribes for the murder of two British officers. Both were a success from a military point of view, but in the Black Mountain the determination of the Punjab Government to limit the sphere of action of the troops, and to hurry out of the country, prevented our reaping any political advantage. We lost a grand opportunity for gaining control over this lawless and troublesome district; no survey was made, no roads opened out, the tribesmen were not made to feel our power, and, consequently, very soon another costly expedition had to be undertaken.

In November, 1888, Lord Dufferin left India amidst a storm of regret from all classes of Her Majesty's subjects. He was succeeded by Lord Lansdowne, one of whose earliest communications to me rejoiced my heart, for in it His Excellency inquired whether anything could be done towards improving our relations with the frontier tribes. This augured well for the abandonment of the traditional, selfish, and, to my mind, short-sighted policy of keeping aloof, and I hoped that endeavours would at last be made to turn the tribesmen into friendly neighbours, to their advantage and ours, instead of being obliged to have recourse to useless blockades or constant and expensive expeditions for their punishment, or else to induce them to refrain from troubling us by the payment of a heavy blackmail.



After a visit to the frontier in the autumn to see how the defences were advancing, I attended a Cavalry Camp of Exercise at Delhi, and an Artillery Practice Camp at Gurgaon, and then went to Meerut to be present at the first meeting of the Bengal Presidency Rifle Association, which was most interesting and successful. We spent Christmas in camp—the first Christmas we had all been together for ten years. Our boy, having left Eton, came out in the early part of the year with a tutor, to be with us for eighteen months before entering Sandhurst.

At the end of December I proceeded to Calcutta rather earlier than usual, to pay my respects to the new Viceroy, and in January of the following year, accompanied by my wife and daughter, I started off on a long tour to inspect the local regiments in Central India and Rajputana, and to ascertain what progress had been made in organizing the Imperial Service Troops in that part of India.

Did space permit, I should like to tell my readers of the beauties of Udaipur and the magnificent hospitality accorded to us there, as well as at Bhopal, Jodhpur, Jaipur, and Ulwar, but, if I once began, it would be difficult to stop, and I feel I have already made an unconscionably heavy demand on the interest of the public in things Indian, and must soon cease my 'labour of love.' I must therefore confine myself to those subjects which I am desirous should be better understood in England than they generally are.

Upon seeing the troops of the Begum of Bhopal and the Maharana of Udaipur, I recommended that Their Highnesses should be invited to allow their share of Imperial defence to take the form of paying for the services of an increased number of officers with their respective local corps,[5] for I did not think it would be possible to make any useful addition to our strength out of the material of which their small armies were composed. The men were relics of a past age, fit only for police purposes, and it would have been a waste of time and money to give them any special training. My recommendation, however, was not accepted, and neither of these States takes any part in the defence scheme.

At Jodhpur, on the contrary, there was splendid material, and a most useful force was being organized by the Maharaja's brother, Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Pertap Sing, himself a Rajput, and of the bluest blood of India. The Cavalry were specially fine. The gallant Rajput horsemen of Jodhpur had always been famous for their chivalrous bravery, unswerving fidelity, and fearless self-devotion in their wars with the Mahrattas and the armies of the Mogul Emperors, and I felt, as the superbly mounted squadrons passed before me, that they had lost none of their characteristics, and that blood and breeding must tell, and would, if put to the test, achieve the same results now as of old. There could be but one opinion as to the value of the 'Sirdar Rissala,'[6] so named after the Maharaja's son and heir, Sirdar Sing, a lad of only nine years old, who led the little army past the saluting flag mounted on a beautiful thorough-bred Arab.

The Jaipur troops were much on a par with those of Bhopal and Udaipur. I was glad, therefore, that in lieu of troops, the Maharaja had agreed to organize, as his contribution to the Imperial service, a transport corps of 1,000 fully-equipped animals.

At Ulwar I found the 600 Cavalry and 1,000 Infantry (all Rajputs) well advanced in their drill and training; this was evidently owing to the personal interest taken in them by the Maharaja, who seldom allowed a day to pass without visiting the parade grounds.

By the end of March I had finished my tour in Central India and Rajputana, and as the heat was every day becoming more intense, I was not sorry to turn my steps northwards towards Kashmir, the army of which State still remained to be inspected, and the measures most suitable for its re-organization determined upon.

Our whole family party re-assembled at Murree early in April, and we all went into the 'Happy Valley' together, where between business and pleasure we spent a most delightful six weeks. The Maharaja personally superintended the arrangements for our comfort. Our travelling was made easy—indeed luxurious—and everything that the greatest care and forethought and the most lavish hospitality could accomplish to make our visit happy was done by the Maharaja and by the popular Resident, Colonel Nisbet.

The Kashmir army was much larger than any of those belonging to the Native States I had lately visited; it consisted of 18,000 men and 66 guns—more than was needed, even with the Gilgit frontier to guard. Some of the regiments were composed of excellent material, chiefly Dogras; but as the cost of such a force was a heavy drain upon the State, and as many of the men were old and decrepit, I recommended that the Maharaja should be invited to get rid of all who were physically unfit, and to reduce his army to a total of 10,000 thoroughly reliable men and 30 guns. I knew this would be a very difficult, and perhaps distasteful, task for the Commander-in-Chief (who was also the Maharaja's brother), Raja Ram Sing, to perform, so I recommended that a British officer should be appointed military adviser to the Kashmir Government, under whose supervision the work of reformation should be carried out.

At that time we had none of our own troops in the neighbourhood of Gilgit, and as I thought it advisable, in case of disturbance, that the Kashmir troops should be speedily put into such a state of efficiency as would enable us to depend upon them to hold the passes until help could arrive from India, I urged that the military adviser should be given three British officers to assist him in carrying out his difficult and troublesome duty; and at the same time I pointed out that it was absolutely essential to construct at an early date a serviceable road between Kashmir and Gilgit, as the sole approach to that strategic position was not only difficult, but very dangerous.

All these proposals commended themselves to, and were acted upon by, the Viceroy.

Lieutenant-Colonel Neville Chamberlain—a persona grata to the Kashmir authorities—was appointed Military Secretary to the Kashmir State, and by his ability, tact, and happy way of dealing with Natives, quickly overcame all obstacles. The Maharaja and his two brothers, Rajas Ram Sing and Amar Sing, entered heartily into the scheme; the army was remodelled and rendered fit for service; and an excellent road was made to Gilgit.

During the summer of 1889 I was able to introduce several much needed reforms in the annual course of musketry for the Native Army. The necessity for these reforms had not been overlooked by my distinguished predecessors, nor by the able officers who served under them in the Musketry Department, but it had not been possible to do much with a system which dated from a period when fire discipline was not thought of, and when the whole object of the course was to make soldiers individually good shots. After the Delhi Camp of Exercise in 1885-86, when the want of fire control was almost the only point unfavourably criticized by the foreign officers, the Army in India made a great advance in this important branch of musketry training; nevertheless, I felt that further progress was possible, and that the course of instruction was not altogether as practical as it might be. I therefore gave over the work of improvement in this respect to an enthusiast in the matter of rifle-shooting and an officer of exceptional energy and intelligence, Lieutenant-Colonel Ian Hamilton, and directed him, as Assistant Adjutant-General of Musketry, to arrange a course of instruction, in which the conditions should resemble as nearly as possible those of field service, and in which fire discipline should be developed to the utmost extent. He was most successful in carrying out my wishes, and the results from the first year's trial of the new system were infinitely better than even I had anticipated.

Simultaneously with the improvement in musketry, a great advance was made in gunnery. Artillery, like Infantry officers, had failed to realize the value of the new weapon, and it required the teaching of a man who himself thoroughly believed in and understood the breech-loading gun to arouse Artillerymen to a sense of the tremendous power placed in their hands, and to the importance of devoting much more care and attention to practice than had hitherto been thought necessary. Such a man was Major-General Nairne, and I was happily able to induce the Government to revive in him the appointment of Inspector-General of Artillery.

Under the unwearying supervision of this officer, there was quite as remarkable an improvement in Artillery shooting as Colonel Hamilton had effected in musketry. Practice camps were annually formed at convenient localities, and all ranks began to take as much pride in belonging to the 'best shooting battery' as they had hitherto taken in belonging to the 'smartest,' the 'best-horsed,' or the 'best-turned-out' battery. I impressed upon officers and men that the two things were quite compatible; that, according to my experience, the smartest and best turned-out men made the best soldiers; and while I urged every detail being most carefully attended to which could enable them to become proficient gunners and take their proper place on a field of battle, I expressed my earnest hope that the Royal Artillery would always maintain its hitherto high reputation for turn-out and smartness. The improvement in the Cavalry was equally apparent. For this arm of the service also the Government consented to an Inspector-General being appointed, and I was fortunate enough to be able to secure for the post the services of Major-General Luck, an officer as eminently fitted for this position as was General Nairne for his.

Just at first the British officers belonging to Native Cavalry were apprehensive that their sowars would be turned into dragoons, but they soon found that there was no intention of changing any of their traditional characteristics, and that the only object of giving them an Inspector-General was to make them even better in their own way than they had been before, the finest Irregular Cavalry in the world, as I have not the slightest doubt they will always prove themselves to be. Towards the end of the Simla season of 1889, Lord Lansdowne, to my great satisfaction, announced his intention of visiting the frontier, and asked me to accompany him.

We rode through the Khyber and Gomal Passes, visited Peshawar, Kohat, Bannu, Dera Ismail Khan, and Quetta, looked into the Kohjak tunnel, and attended some interesting manoeuvres, carried out with a view of testing, in as practical a manner as possible, the defensive power of the recently-finished Takatu-Mashalik entrenchment. The principal works were fired upon by Artillery and Infantry, and, notwithstanding the excellent practice made, infinitesimal damage was done, which proved the suitability of the particular design adopted for the defences.

Lord Lansdowne expressed himself greatly interested, and much impressed by all he saw of the frontier; and he was confirmed in his opinion as to the desirability of establishing British influence amongst the border tribes. With this object in view, His Excellency authorized Sir Robert Sandeman (the Governor-General's Agent at Quetta) to establish a series of police posts in the Gomal Pass, and encourage intercourse between the people of the Zhob district and ourselves.

It was high time that something should be done in this direction, for the Amir's attitude towards us was becoming day by day more unaccountably antagonistic. He was gradually encroaching on territory and occupying places altogether outside the limits of Afghan control; and every movement of ours—made quite as much in His Highness's interest as in our own—for strengthening the frontier and improving the communications, evidently aroused in him distrust and suspicion as to our motives.

[Footnote 1: The total coat of the coast and frontier defences amounted to the very moderate sum of five crores of rupees, or about three and a half millions sterling.]

[Footnote 2: The Committees consisted, besides the Military Member of Council and myself, of the heads of Departments with the Government of India and at Army Head-Quarters.]

[Footnote 3: When the report of the Mobilization Committee was submitted to the Viceroy, he recorded a minute expressing his 'warm admiration of the manner in which the arduous duty had been conducted,' and 'his belief that no scheme of a similar description had ever been worked out with greater thoroughness, in more detail, and with clearer apprehension of the ends to be accomplished.' He concluded by conveying to the members an expression of his great satisfaction at what had been done, and recording that 'the result of the Committee's labours is a magnificent monument of industry and professional ability.']

[Footnote 4: Statement of transport carriage maintained in India in the years 1878 and 1893 for military purposes, exclusive of animals registered by the civil authorities on the latter date, and liable to be requisitioned in time of war:

Date September, 1878 April, 1893 - - Elephants. 733 359 - - Camels. 6,353 3,175 - - Mules. 1,536 16,825 - - Ponies. ... 782 - - Bullocks. 1,424 7,211 - - Donkeys. ... 31 - - Army Transport ... 5,316 Carts. - - Field Ambulance ... 799 Carts. -]

[Footnote 5: According to treaty, the Bhopal State pays nearly two lakhs of rupees a year towards the cost of the local battalion maintained by the British Government for the purpose of keeping order within the State itself. The battalion, however, has only four, instead of eight, British officers, and it appeared to me only reasonable that the Begum should be invited to pay the additional amount necessary to make the battalion as efficient as the rest of the Native army, as a 'premium of insurance' for the peace and prosperity which Her Highness's State enjoys under our protection, and as her quota towards the general scheme for the defence of the Empire.]

[Footnote 6: Rissala is a body of Cavalry.]

* * * * *



CHAPTER LXVIII. 1890-1893

Extension of command—Efficiency of the Native Army —Concessions to the Native Army—Officering of the Native Army —The Hunza-Naga campaign—Visit to Nepal—A Nepalese entertainment —Proposed mission to the Amir—A last tour—Farewell entertainments —Last days in India

New Year's Day, 1890, found me in Calcutta, where I went to meet Prince Albert Victor on his arrival in India. On my way thither I received a letter from Mr. Edward Stanhope, Secretary of State for War, telling me that he had heard from Lord Cross, the Secretary of State for India, that there was a proposal to ask me to retain my appointment of Commander-in-Chief in India for some time after the expiration of the usual term of office; but that, while such an arrangement would have his hearty approval, he thought the question should be considered from another point of view, and that it would be extremely agreeable to himself, and he felt to the Duke of Cambridge also, if he could secure me for the post of Adjutant-General in succession to Lord Wolseley. Mr. Stanhope went on to say he would like to know whether I would be willing to accept the appointment, or whatever position Lord Wolseley's successor would fill, should the report of Lord Hartington's Commission cause a change to be made in the staff at the Horse Guards.

I was pleased, though somewhat surprised, at this communication, and I replied to the Right Honourable gentleman that I would gladly accept the offer, and that I could arrange to join on the 1st October, when the appointment would become vacant, but that, as Lord Lansdowne had expressed a wish that I should remain in India over the next cold season, I hoped, if it were possible, some arrangement might be made to admit of my doing so. The idea of employment in England, now that I allowed myself to dwell upon it, was very attractive, for dearly as I loved my Indian command, and bitterly as I knew I should grieve at leaving the country, the peoples, and the grand army, which were all sources of such intense interest to me, I felt that the evil day at longest could only be postponed for a few years, and that there is a limit to the time that even the strongest European can with impunity live in an eastern climate, while I was glad to think I should still be in a position to work for my country and for the benefit of the army.

From Calcutta I travelled north to Muridki, where a large force of Horse Artillery and Cavalry was assembled for practice, and where we had a standing camp, at which Prince Albert Victor did us the honour of being our guest for the final manoeuvres. I think His Royal Highness enjoyed the novelty of camp life, and was greatly attracted by the picturesque and soldier-like appearance of the Native troops. The Native officers were very proud at being presented to the grandson of their Empress, and at His Royal Highness being appointed Honorary Colonel of the 1st Punjab Cavalry.

Towards the end of April I returned to Simla for what I thought was to be our last season in that place; and shortly after I got up there, a telegram from Mr. Stanhope informed me that my appointment had been accepted by the Cabinet, and that my presence in England was strongly desired in the autumn. It was therefore with very great surprise that I received a second telegram three weeks later from the Secretary of State, telling me that, as it was then found to be impossible to choose my successor, and as the exigencies of the public service urgently required my presence in India, the Cabinet, with the approval of Her Majesty and the concurrence of the Duke of Cambridge, had decided to ask me to retain my command for two more years.

I felt it my duty to obey the wishes of the Queen, Her Majesty's Government, and the Commander-in-Chief; but I fully realized that in doing so I was forfeiting my chance of employment in England, and that a long and irksome term of enforced idleness would in all probability follow on my return home, and I did not attempt to conceal from Mr. Stanhope that I was disappointed.

At the latter end of this year, and in the early part of 1891, it was found necessary to undertake three small expeditions: one to Zhob, under the leadership of Sir George White, for the protection of our newly-acquired subjects in that valley; one on the Kohat border, commanded by Sir William Lockhart, to punish the people of the Miranzai valley for repeated acts of hostility; and the third, under Major-General Elles,[1] against the Black Mountain tribes, who, quite unsubdued by the fruitless expedition of 1888, had given trouble almost immediately afterwards. All these were as completely successful in their political results as in their military conduct. The columns were not withdrawn until the tribesmen had become convinced that they were powerless to sustain a hostile attitude towards us, and that it was their interest, as it was our wish, that they should henceforth be on amicable terms with us.



While a considerable number of troops were thus employed, a fourth expedition had to be hurriedly equipped and despatched in quite the opposite direction to punish the Raja of Manipur, a petty State on the confines of Assam, for the treacherous murder of Mr. Quinton, the Chief Commissioner of Assam, and four other British officers.

Notwithstanding its inaccessibility, two columns, one from Burma, the other from Cachar, quickly and simultaneously reached Manipur, our countrymen were avenged, and the administration of the State was taken over for a time by the Government of India.[2]

Towards the end of January the Cesarewitch came to Calcutta, where I had the honour of being introduced to our august visitor, who expressed himself as pleased with what he had seen of the country and the arrangements made for His Imperial Highness's somewhat hurried journey through India.

In April my military colleague in the Viceroy's Council for five years, and my personal friend, General Sir George Chesney, left India, to my great regret. We had worked together most harmoniously, and, as he wrote in his farewell letter, there was scarcely a point in regard to the Army in India about which he and I did not agree.

Sir George was succeeded by Lieutenant-General Brackenbury, who had been Director of Military Intelligence at the War Office. I was relieved to find that, although in some particulars my new coadjutor's views differed from mine, we were in accord upon all essential points, particularly as to the value of the Indian Army and the necessity for its being maintained in a state of preparedness for war.

From the time I became Commander-in-Chief in Madras until I left India the question of how to render the army in that country as perfect a fighting machine as it was possible to make it, was the one which caused me the most anxious thought, and to its solution my most earnest efforts had been at all times directed.

The first step to be taken towards this end was, it seemed to me, to substitute men of the more warlike and hardy races for the Hindustani sepoys of Bengal, the Tamils and Telagus of Madras, and the so-called Mahrattas of Bombay; but I found it difficult to get my views accepted, because of the theory which prevailed that it was necessary to maintain an equilibrium between the armies of the three Presidencies, and because of the ignorance that was only too universal with respect to the characteristics of the different races, which encouraged the erroneous belief that one Native was as good as another for purposes of war.

In former days, when the Native Army in India was so much stronger in point of numbers than the British Army, and there existed no means of rapid communication, it was only prudent to guard against a predominance of soldiers of any one creed or nationality; but with British troops nearly doubled and the Native Army reduced by more than one-third, with all the forts and arsenals protected, and nearly the whole of the Artillery manned by British soldiers, with railway and telegraph communication from one end of India to the other, with the risk of internal trouble greatly diminished, and the possibility of external complications becoming daily more apparent, circumstances and our requirements were completely altered, and it had become essential to have in the ranks of our Native Army men who might confidently be trusted to take their share of fighting against a European foe.

In the British Army the superiority of one regiment over another is mainly a matter of training; the same courage and military instinct are inherent in English, Scotch, and Irish alike, but no comparison can be made between the martial value of a regiment recruited amongst the Gurkhas of Nepal or the warlike races of northern India, and of one recruited from the effeminate peoples of the south.

How little this was understood, even by those who had spent a great part of their service in India, was a marvel to me; but, then, I had had peculiar opportunities of judging of the relative fighting qualities of Natives, and I was in despair at not being able to get people to see the matter with my eyes, for I knew that nothing was more sure to lead to disaster than to imagine that the whole Indian Army, as it was then constituted, could be relied on in time of war.

General Chesney fortunately shared my opinions, and as Lords Dufferin and Lansdowne trusted us, we were able to do a great deal towards increasing the efficiency of the Native Army and improving the status and prospects of the Native soldier. Several companies and regiments composed of doubtful material were disbanded, and men of well-known fighting castes entertained instead. Class regiments were formed, as being more congenial to the men and more conducive to esprit de corps; recruiting was made the business of carefully selected officers who understood Native character, and whose duty it was to become acquainted with the various tribes inhabiting the districts from which the recruits for their own regiments were drawn; and special arrangements were made with the Nepalese Government by which a sufficient number of the best class of men could be obtained for our thirteen Gurkha regiments.

The pay of Cavalry soldiers was improved, and it was pointed out to the Government that an increase to the Infantry soldiers' pay could not be long deferred;[3] the issue of good-conduct pay was accelerated; jagirs[4] were sanctioned annually for a limited number of specially distinguished Native officers; full pay was authorized for recruits from date of enlistment instead of from the date of joining their regiments; field batta[5] was sanctioned whenever troops should be employed beyond sea or on service; pensions were granted after a shorter period of service than heretofore; medals for meritorious service and good conduct were given in commemoration of Her Majesty's Jubilee; bronze war medals were sanctioned for all authorized Government followers; a reserve, which it was arranged should undergo an annual course of training, was formed for the Artillery and Infantry; and a system of linked battalions was organized, three battalions being grouped together, and the men being interchangeable during war-time.

While the tendency of these alterations and concessions was to make all ranks happy and contented, their training was carefully attended to, and, as I have before mentioned, musketry particularly reached a very high standard.

The one thing left undone, and which I should like to have been able to accomplish before leaving India, was to induce the Government to arrange for more British officers to be given to the Native regiments in time of war. Nine to a Cavalry and eight to an Infantry corps may be sufficient in time of peace, but that number is quite too small to stand the strain of war. Indian soldiers, like soldiers of every nationality, require to be led; and history and experience teach us that eastern races (fortunately for us), however brave and accustomed to war, do not possess the qualities that go to make leaders of men, and that Native officers in this respect can never take the place of British officers. I have known many Natives whose gallantry and devotion could not be surpassed, but I have never known one who would not have looked to the youngest British officer for support in time of difficulty and danger. It is therefore most unwise to allow Native regiments to enter upon a war with so much smaller a proportion of British officers than is considered necessary for European regiments. I have no doubt whatever of the fighting powers of our best Indian troops; I have a thorough belief in, and admiration for, Gurkhas, Sikhs, Dogras, Rajputs, Jats, and selected Mahomedans; I thoroughly appreciate their soldierly qualities; brigaded with British troops, I would be proud to lead them against any European enemy; but we cannot expect them to do with less leading than our own soldiers require, and it is, I maintain, trying them too highly to send them into action with the present establishment of British officers.[6]

In the late autumn of 1891 our latest acquisition, the Zhob Valley, was included in my frontier tour, which I had the pleasure of making, for the greater part of the way, in the company of General Brackenbury. He was prevented from getting as far as Quetta by an accident which laid him up for some time, but not, as he told me, before he had seen enough of the frontier to satisfy him that the tribes were a factor in our system of defence which could not be ignored, and that I had not exaggerated the importance of having them on our side.

During this winter the brilliant little Hunza-Naga campaign took place, which has been so graphically described in Mr. Knight's 'Where Three Empires Meet.' It was brought about by Russia's intrigues with the Rulers of the petty States on the northern boundary of Kashmir; and our attention was first roused to the necessity for action by two British officers, who were journeying to India by way of the Pamirs and Gilgit, being forced by Russian soldiers to leave what the leader of the party called 'newly-acquired Russian territory '[7]—territory to which Russia had not the shadow of a claim.

In addition to this unjustifiable treatment of Captain Younghusband and Lieutenant Davison, Colonel Yanoff crossed the Hindu Kush with his Cossacks by the Korabhut Pass, and, after reconnoitring the country on the borders of Kashmir, re-crossed the range by the Baroghil Pass. As this was a distinct breach of the promises made by the Russian Government, and an infringement of the boundary line as agreed to between England and Russia in 1873, it was necessary to take steps to prevent any recurrence of such interference, and a small force was accordingly sent against the Chief of Hunza, who had openly declared himself in favour of Russia. He made a desperate stand, but was eventually driven from his almost inaccessible position by the determined gallantry of our Indian troops, assisted by a Contingent from Kashmir. Three Victoria Crosses were given for this business, and many more were earned, but of necessity there must be a limit to the disposal of decorations; and in an affair of this kind, in which all proved themselves heroes, each individual must have felt himself honoured by the small force being awarded such a large number of the coveted reward, in proportion to its size.

We reaped the benefit of having taken this district under our own control when Chitral required to be relieved, and the Hunza-Naga people afforded Colonel Kelly such valuable help.

On the 1st January, 1892, I received an intimation that Her Majesty had been graciously pleased to bestow a peerage upon me, and the same day the Secretary of State for India offered me a further extension of my appointment as Commander-in-Chief—an offer I would gladly have accepted, as I knew it had been made with the concurrence of the Viceroy, if I could have taken even a few months' leave to England. But during a quarter of a century I had only been able to spend eighteen months out of India, and I felt the need of change of climate and a little rest after so many years of continued hard work. Under the existing regulations a Commander-in-Chief could have no leave. Lord Cross had tried to remedy this hard rule by bringing in the 'Officers' Leave Bill'; but as he informed Lord Lansdowne it was impossible to get it through the House of Commons that session, I was obliged very reluctantly to beg to be allowed to resign my command in the spring of 1893.

Before returning to Simla for really the last time, my wife and I made another trip to Burma as far as Mandalay, and after this was over we paid a most interesting visit to Nepal, having received the very unusual honour of an invitation to Khatmandu from Maharaja Bir Shumsher Jung Rana Bahadur.

Khatmandu is about a hundred miles from our frontier station of Segowli, by a very rough road over a succession of steep, high hills and along deep, narrow valleys, which would have been quite impossible for a lady to travel by but for the excellent arrangements made by the Nepalese officials; the last descent was the worst of all; we literally dropped from one rock to the next in some places. But on reaching the base of the mountain all was changed. A beautifully cultivated valley spread itself out before us; comfortable tents were prepared for our reception, where we were met by some of the State officials; and a perfectly appointed carriage-and-four was waiting to carry us on to Khatmandu, where we were received by the Resident, Lieutenant-Colonel Wylie, and his wife, old friends of ours. That afternoon the Maharaja paid me a private visit.

The next morning the official call was made, which I returned soon afterwards; and in the evening the Maharaja, accompanied by his eldest son and eight of his brothers, all high officers of state, were present at Mrs. Wylie's reception, wearing military frock-coats and forage-caps. They all spoke English fluently; their manners were those of well-bred gentlemen, easy and quiet, as free from awkwardness as from forwardness; each, coming up in turn, talked very pleasantly to Lady Roberts for a time, and then made way for someone else. The Maharaja is extremely musical, and has several well-trained bands, taught by an English bandmaster; three of them were in attendance, and were directed to play selections from our favourite operas, and then a number of the beautiful plaintive Nepalese airs. Altogether, we passed a most agreeable evening.

The following day a review of all the troops (18,000 men and 78 guns)[8] was held on a ground one mile in length by half a mile in breadth, perfectly level and well turfed. It would be considered a fine parade-ground for the plains of India, and must have entailed a considerable expenditure of time, labour, and money to make in such a hilly place as Khatmandu.

On reaching the ground, I was received by the Maharaja and Deb Shamsher Jung, the eldest of his many brothers, and the nominal Commander-in-Chief of the army; we rode along the line together, and the march past then began. Everything was done with the utmost precision; there was no fuss or talking, and from first to last not a single bugle sound was heard, showing how carefully officers and men had been drilled. I was told that the executive Commander-in-Chief, the third brother, by name Chandra Shamsher, had almost lived on the parade-ground for weeks before my arrival. The Maharaja's sons and brothers, who all knew their work, and were evidently fond of soldiering, commanded the several divisions and brigades.

The troops were not, perhaps, turned out quite so smartly as those in our service, and several of the officers were old and feeble; but these were the only faults perceptible, and I came to the conclusion that the great majority of the 18,000 men were quite as good as the Gurkhas we enlist; and I could not help thinking that they would be a valuable addition to our strength in the event of war.

General Chandra Shamsher is a very red-hot soldier. He said to my wife: 'Lady Roberts, when are the Russians coming? I wish they would make haste. We have 40,000 soldiers in Nepal ready for war, and there is no one to fight!'

The next day a grand durbar was held, at which the King (the Maharaja Dhiraj, as he is called) presided; he was an unusually handsome lad of about eighteen years of age, fairer than most Nepalese, and very refined looking. As on all previous occasions, everyone wore uniform except the King, who had on a perfectly plain dress of spotless white. Great deference is outwardly paid to the Dhiraj, but he has no power, and is never consulted in matters of State, being considered too sacred to be troubled with mundane affairs. Although a mere boy, he had four wives, two of them daughters of the Maharaja Bir Shamsher Jung.

After the durbar, I was shown over the principal school and hospital; both appeared to be well conducted, and evidently no expense was spared upon them. I was then taken to a magazine, in which were a number of guns of various calibre and any amount of ammunition. I was told there were several other magazines, which I had not time to see, and a few miles from Khatmandu extensive workshops, where all kinds of munitions of war were manufactured.

That evening, accompanied by Colonel and Mrs. Wylie, we attended a reception at the Maharaja's palace. The durbar hall, which was filled with men in uniform, was of beautiful proportions, and very handsomely decorated and furnished. After the usual introductions and some conversation with the chief officers, we were invited to visit the Maharani in her own apartments, and having ascended a flight of steps and passed through numerous corridors and luxuriously furnished rooms, we were shown into a spacious apartment, the prevailing colour of which was rose, lighted by lamps of the same colour. The Maharani was sitting on a sofa at the further end of the room, gorgeously apparelled in rose-coloured gauze dotted over with golden spangles; her skirts were very voluminous, and she wore magnificent jewels on her head and about her person. Two Maids of Honour stood behind her, holding fans, and dressed in the same colour as their mistress, but without jewels. On each side of her, forming a semicircle, were grouped the ladies of the Court, all arrayed in artistically contrasting colours; they were more or less pretty and refined looking, and the Maharani herself was extremely handsome. My wife was placed by her side on the sofa, and carried on a long conversation with her through one of the ladies who spoke Hindustani and acted as Interpreter. The Maharani presented Lady Roberts with a beautiful little Chinese pug-dog, and the Maharaja gave me a gold-mounted kookri (Gurkha knife). After this little ceremony there was a grand display of fireworks, and we took our leave.

Nothing could exceed the kindness we met with during our stay in Nepal. The Maharaja endeavoured in every way to make our visit enjoyable, and his brothers vied with each other in their efforts to do us honour. It was impressed upon me that the Nepalese army was at the disposal of the Queen-Empress, and hopes were repeatedly expressed that we would make use of it in the event of war.

Notwithstanding the occasional differences which have occurred between our Government and the Nepal Durbar, I believe that, ever since 1817, when the Nepal war was brought to a successful conclusion by Sir David Ochterlony, the Gurkhas have had a great respect and liking for us: but they are in perpetual dread of our taking their country, and they think the only way to prevent this is not to allow anyone to enter it except by invitation, and to insist upon the few thus favoured travelling by the difficult route that we traversed. Nepal can never be required by us for defensive purposes, and as we get our best class of Native soldiers thence, everything should, I think, be done to show our confidence in the Nepalese alliance, and convince them that we have no ulterior designs on the independence of their kingdom.

On leaving Nepal we made a short tour in the Punjab, and then went to Simla for the season.

One of the subjects which chiefly occupied the attention of the Government at this time was the unfriendly attitude of the Ruler of Afghanistan towards us. Abdur Rahman Khan appeared to have entirely forgotten that he owed everything to us, and that, but for our support and lavish aid in money and munitions of war, he could neither have gained nor held the throne of Kabul. We refused to Sher Ali much that we could have gracefully granted and that would have made him a firm friend, but in our dealings with Abdur Rahman we rushed into the other extreme, and showered favours upon him; in fact, we made too much of him, and allowed him to get out of hand. The result was that he mistook the patience and forbearance with which we bore his fits of temper for weakness, and was encouraged in an overweening and altogether unjustifiable idea of his own importance; he considered that he ought to be treated as the equal of the Shah of Persia, and keenly resented not being allowed to communicate direct with Her Majesty's Ministers.

In the hope of being able to establish more satisfactory relations with the Amir, Lord Lansdowne invited him to come to India, and, on His Highness pleading that his country was in too disturbed a condition to admit of his leaving it, the Viceroy expressed his willingness to meet him on the frontier, but Abdur Rahman evaded this arrangement also under one pretext or another. It was at last proposed to send me with a Mission as far as Jalalabad, a proposal I gladly accepted, for I was sanguine enough to hope that, by personal explanation, I should be able to remove the suspicions which the Amir evidently entertained as to the motives for our action on the frontier, and to convince him that our help in the time of his need must depend upon our mutually agreeing in what manner that help should be given, and on arrangements being completed beforehand to enable our troops to be rapidly transported to the threatened points.

Abdur Rahman agreed to receive me in the autumn, and expressed pleasure at the prospect of meeting me, but eventually he apparently became alarmed at the size of the escort by which the Government thought it necessary that I, as Commander-in-Chief, should be accompanied; and, as the time approached for the Mission to start, he informed Lord Lansdowne that his health would not permit of his undertaking the journey to Jalalabad.

Thus the opportunity was lost to which I had looked forward as a chance for settling many vexed questions, and I am afraid that there has been very little improvement in our relations with Abdur Rahman since then, and that we are no nearer the completion of our plans for the defence of his kingdom than we were four years ago[9]—a defence which (and this cannot be too strongly impressed upon the Amir) it would be impossible for us to aid him to carry through unless Kabul and Kandahar are brought into connexion with the railway system of India.

In the autumn, just before we left Simla, our friends bestowed upon my wife a farewell gift in the shape of a very beautiful diamond bracelet and a sum of money for her fund for 'Homes in the Hills, and Officers' Hospitals,' made doubly acceptable by the kind words with which Lord Lansdowne, on behalf of the donors, presented it. Shortly afterwards we bade a regretful adieu to our happy home of so many years, and made our way to the Punjab for a final visit.

We spent a few days at Peshawar, and then went to Rawal Pindi to be present at a Camp of Exercise, and see how the works under construction for the protection of the arsenal were progressing. These works had been put in hand in 1890, when, according to my recommendation, it had been decided not to fortify Multan. No place in the Punjab appeared to my mind to possess the same military value as Rawal Pindi, its strategical importance with regard to the right flank of the frontier line being hardly inferior to that of Quetta in relation to the left flank; but of late the advisability of completing the works had been questioned by my colleagues in Council, greatly to my concern, for I felt that it would be unwise to leave the elaboration of the defences of such a position until war should be imminent.[10]

In January, 1893, a series of farewell entertainments were organized for me at Lahore by the people of the Punjab, as touching as they were highly appreciated, and intensely gratifying. Amongst the crowds assembled in the Town Hall to bid me good-bye, I was greatly pleased to see, besides the Maharaja of Kashmir, Chiefs and men from beyond our frontier, from Kuram, from the confines of Baluchistan, even from the wilds of Waziristan; for their presence on this occasion I felt to be, not only a proof of their kindly feeling towards me personally, and of their approval of the measures for their safety and welfare that I had always advocated, but a very distinct sign of the much to be desired change that was taking place in the sentiments of the border tribes towards us as a nation.

Four addresses were presented to me, from the Sikh*, Hindu*, Mahomedan*, and European* communities of the Punjab, respectively, which I will venture to give in the Appendix, as I feel sure that the spirit of loyalty which pervades them will be a revelation to many, and a source of satisfaction to all who are interested in the country to which we owe so much of our present greatness, and which I conceive to be the brightest jewel in England's crown.

(See Appendices XII, XIII, XIV, AND XV.)

It was a wonderful and moving scene upon which we looked from the platform of the Town Hall on this memorable occasion, made up as it was of such different elements, each race and creed easily recognizable from their different costumes and characteristics, but all united by the same kindly desire to do honour to their departing friend, or comrade, for there were a great number of old soldiers present.

At each place that we visited on our way to Calcutta there was the same display of kindly regret at our departure; friends assembled to see us off at the railway-stations, bands played 'Auld lang syne,' and hearty cheers speeded us on our way.

In February we went to Lucknow for a few days, when the Talukdars of Oudh gave my wife and me an entertainment on a very splendid scale in the Wingfield Park, and presented me with an address[11] and a sword of honour.

On our return to Calcutta, just before we left for England, the European community entertained me at a dinner, at which more than two hundred were present, presided over by Sir James Mackay, K.C.I.E., Chairman of the Calcutta Chamber of Commerce. Sir James was far too kind and eulogistic in speaking of my services, but for his appreciative allusion to my wife I could only feel deeply gratified and thankful. After dinner a reception was given to Lady Roberts and myself, at which the Viceroy and Lady Lansdowne and all the principal Native and European residents of Calcutta were assembled. An address[12] was presented to me on this never-to be-forgotten occasion, in which, to my supreme satisfaction, the Native noblemen and gentlemen expressed their hearty approval of what had been done during my tenure of office as Commander-in-Chief to strengthen the defences of the frontier and render the army in India efficient, and declared that 'we cheerfully bear our share of the cost, as in possession of these protections against aggressions from without we believe all who dwell within the borders of the land will find their best guarantee for peace, and in peace the best safeguard they and their children can possess to enable them to pass their lives in happiness and prosperity, and escape the misery and ruin which follow war and invasion.'

We travelled to Bombay via Jeypur and Jodhpur. At both places we were royally entertained by the Rulers of those states, and my staff and I were given excellent sport amongst the wild boar, which was much enjoyed by all, particularly by my son, who, having joined the King's Royal Rifles at Rawal Pindi, was attached to me as A.D.C. during my last six months in India, and had not before had an opportunity of tasting the joys of pig-sticking.

At Jodhpur my friend the Maharaja Sir Pertap Sing gave us a signal proof that the ancient valour of the Rajputs had not deteriorated in the present day. I had wounded a fine boar, and on his making for some rocky ground, where I could hardly have followed him on horseback, I shouted to Sir Pertap to get between him and the rocks, and turn him in my direction. The Maharaja promptly responded, but just as he came face-to-face with the boar, his horse put his foot into a hole and fell; the infuriated animal rushed on the fallen rider, and, before the latter could extricate himself, gave him a severe wound in the leg with his formidable tushes. On going to his assistance, I found Sir Pertap bleeding profusely, but standing erect, facing the boar and holding the creature (who was upright on his hind-legs) at arms' length by his mouth. The spear without the impetus given by the horse at full speed is not a very effective weapon against the tough hide of a boar's back, and on realizing that mine did not make much impression, Pertap Sing, letting go his hold of the boar's mouth, quickly seized his hind-legs, and turned him over on his back, crying: 'Maro, sahib, maro!' ('Strike, sir, strike!') which I instantly did, and killed him. Anyone who is able to realize the strength and weight of a wild boar will appreciate the pluck and presence of mind of Sir Pertap Sing in this performance. Fortunately, my wife and daughter, who had been following the pig-stickers in a light cart, were close at hand, and we were able to drive my friend home at once. The wound was found to be rather a bad one, but it did not prevent Sir Pertap from attending some tent-pegging and other amusements in the afternoon, though he had to be carried to the scene.

A few months after my return to England the boar's head arrived, set up, and with a silver plate attached to it, on which was an inscription commemorating the adventure.

At Ahmedabad, where the train stopped while we lunched, I was presented with an address by the President and members of the Municipality, who, 'with loyal devotion to Her Imperial Majesty the Queen and Empress of India, to whose glorious reign we sincerely wish a continuance of brilliant prosperity,' expressed their hope that Lady Roberts and I would have 'a happy voyage home and enjoyment of perfect health and prosperity in future.'

The day before we left Bombay for England, the members of the Byculla Club gave me a parting dinner. It was with great difficulty I could get through my speech in response to the toast of my health on that occasion, for, pleased and grateful as I was at this last mark of friendship and approval from my countrymen, I could not help feeling inexpressibly sad and deeply depressed at the thought uppermost in my mind, that the time had come to separate myself from India and my gallant comrades and friends, British and Native.

In dwelling on the long list of farewell addresses and entertainments with which I was honoured on leaving India, I feel that I may be laying myself open to the charge of egotism; but in writing of one's own experiences it is difficult to avoid being egotistical, and distasteful as it is to me to think that I may be considered so, I would rather that, than that those who treated me so kindly and generously should deem me unmindful or ungrateful.

Thus ended forty-one years in India. No one can, I think, wonder that I left the country with heartfelt regret. The greater number of my most valued friendships had been formed there; from almost everyone with whom I had been associated, whether European or Native, civilian or soldier, I had experienced unfailing kindness, sympathy, and support; and to the discipline, bravery, and devotion to duty of the Army in India, in peace and war, I felt that I owed whatever success it was my good fortune to achieve.

[Footnote 1: The late Lieutenant-General Sir W.K. Elles, K.C.B.]

[Footnote 2: A detachment of the Calcutta Volunteer Rifles, at the particular request of the regiment, took part in the expedition, and did good service.]

[Footnote 3: The pay of the Native Infantry has been suitably increased since I left India.]

[Footnote 4: Jagirs are grants of land.]

[Footnote 5: Batta, extra allowances given to Native soldiers when proceeding on field service.]

[Footnote 6: During the Mutiny the casualties amongst the British officers with the six Punjab regiments which saw the most fighting amounted to 60 per cent.! Luckily, these were able to be replaced by officers belonging to corps which had mutinied. This supply, however, has long since been used up, and it behoves the Government either to provide an adequate reserve of officers, or to arrange for a sufficient number being sent out from England whenever India is likely to be engaged in a serious war.

- Number of CASUALTIES Officers CORPS. who did Killed Died Duty with in of Died of In- each Corps. Action. Wounds. Disease. Wounded. valided. - - - 1st Punjab Cavalry (1 squadron) 12 1 ... ... 6 7 2nd Punjab Cavalry 20 1 ... ... 5 4 5th Punjab Cavalry (1 squadron) 7 1 1 ... ... ... 1st Punjab Infantry 15 3 ... ... 6 ... 2nd Punjab Infantry 22 3 ... ... 4 3 4th Punjab Infantry 24 2 3 2 8 ... - - - Total 100 11 4 2 29 14 - - - ]

[Footnote 7: Captain Younghushand was at Bozai-Gumbaz, and Lieutenant Davison on the Alichur Pamirs, both places being south of the Aksu branch of the Oxus, flowing from the Little Pamir Lake.]

[Footnote 8: The Infantry comprised twenty-four battalions drawn up in line of quarter columns. The Artillery consisted of one battery (six 7-pounders) carried on elephants, six batteries (six guns each, 5-pounders and 7-pounders) dragged by soldiers, and six batteries (six guns each, 3-pounders and 5-pounders) carried by Bhutia coolies.]

[Footnote 9: I am not unmindful of the visit which Sir Mortimer Durand paid to Kabul after I had left India, but on that occasion, I believe, the question of the defence of Afghanistan was not discussed.]

[Footnote 10: The works were stopped after I left India, but not, I was glad to think, before the redoubts had been finished, with the communications thereto. The reasons given were that a change of plans was necessary for economy's sake, and that the construction of fortifications might induce the Natives to think we were doubtful of the continuance of our supremacy. As regarded the first, I explained that the total outlay for works and armaments was estimated at only L332,274—considerably less than one half the cost of a British line-of-battle ship; and as to the second, I urged that an argument of this sort against frontier defences would hardly bear examination; that the possibility of external attack was freely discussed in every newspaper; that Russian movements and frontier difficulties were known and commented on in every bazaar; that the construction of fortifications in support of the Ruling Power had been an Oriental practice from time immemorial; that our action in this respect was at least as likely to instil the idea that we meant to retain our eastern possessions at any cost, as to give an impression of weakness; that the progressive re-organization and mobilization of our army were well known to have reference to service beyond the frontier; and that we had extended our confidence in this respect to Native Princes by encouraging them to train their own troops and fit them to take their place in line with ours.]

[Footnote 11: Given in the Appendix. (Appendix XVI.)]

[Footnote 12: Ibid. (Appendix XVII.)]

* * * * *



APPENDIX



APPENDIX I.

(See Chapter XIV, Footnote 4.)

The 9th Native Infantry, to which Captain Donald Stewart belonged, was divided between Aligarh, Mainpuri, Bulandshahr, and Etawa, Stewart being with the Head-Quarters of the regiment at Aligarh.

The news from Meerut and Delhi had caused a certain amount of alarm amongst the residents at Aligarh, and arrangements had been made for sending away the ladies and children, but, owing to the confidence placed in the men of the 9th, none of them had left the station. Happen what might in other regiments, the officers were certain that the 9th could never be faithless to their salt! The Native officers and men were profuse in their expressions of loyalty, and as a proof of their sincerity they arrested and disarmed several rebel sepoys, who were making for their homes in Oudh and the adjoining districts. As a further proof, they gave up the regimental pandit for endeavouring to persuade them to mutiny. He was tried by a Court-Martial composed of European and Native officers, found guilty, and sentenced to be hanged. The sentence was carried out that same afternoon. It was intended that the regiment should witness the execution, but it did not reach the gaol in time; the men were therefore marched back to their lines, and Stewart, in his capacity of Interpreter, was ordered to explain to them the purpose for which they had been paraded. While he was speaking a man of his own company shouted out something. Stewart did not hear the words, and no one would repeat them. The parade was then dismissed, when the same man, tearing off his uniform, called upon his comrades not to serve a Government which had hanged a Brahmin. A general uproar ensued. The Commanding Officer ordered the few Sikhs in the regiment to seize the ringleader; they did so, but not being supported by the rest they released him. The Subadar Major was then told to arrest the mutineer, but he took no notice whatever of the order. This Native officer had been upwards of forty years in the regiment and was entitled to his full pension. He had been a member of the Court-Martial which tried the pandit, and, though a Brahmin himself, had given his vote in favour of the prisoner being hanged; moreover he was a personal friend of all the officers. Stewart, who had been for many years Adjutant, knew him intimately, and believed implicitly in his loyalty. The man had constantly discussed the situation with Stewart and others, and had been mainly instrumental in disarming the sepoys who had passed through Aligarh; and yet when the hour of trial came he failed as completely as the last-joined recruit.

The British officers went amongst their men and tried to keep order, but the excitement rapidly spread; some of the young soldiers began to load, and the older ones warned the officers that it was time for them to be off. The sepoys then plundered the treasury, broke open the gaol doors, released the prisoners, and marched in a body towards Delhi.[1]

Stewart, being thus left without a regiment, attached himself to the magistrate of the district, and took command of a small body of volunteers sent from Agra by the Lieutenant-Governor of the North-West Provinces, to aid the civil authorities in restoring order. Not caring for this work, and thinking he might be more usefully employed, Stewart made up his mind to find his way to Delhi; his idea was to try and get there via Meerut, but before deciding on the route, he went to Agra, where he had been invited by the Lieutenant-Governor. At the interview, Mr. Colvin advised Stewart to travel via Muttra, as the safer of the two routes, and told him that despatches had been received from the Government in Calcutta for the Commander-in-Chief, then understood to be with the army before Delhi. At the same time the Lieutenant-Governor impressed upon Stewart that he was not giving him any order to go, and that if he undertook to carry the despatches it must be a voluntary act on his part, entailing no responsibility on the Government of the North-West Provinces.

Stewart accepted the duty, and took his leave of Mr. Colvin as the sun was setting on the 18th June, delighted at the chance of being able to join the army before Delhi. He reached Muttra, thirty-five miles distant, without mishap. The streets of this city were crowded with men, all carrying arms of some sort; they showed no signs of hostility, however, and even pointed out to Stewart the house of which he was in search. The owner of this house, to whose care he had been commended by the Agra authorities, was a Brahmin holding an official position in the town. This Native gentleman behaved with civility, but did not attempt to conceal his embarrassment at the presence of a British officer, or his relief when Stewart announced his intention of resuming his journey an hour or so before daybreak.

The Brahmin provided him with two sowars belonging to the Raja of Bhartpur with orders to accompany him as far as Kosi. They were cut-throat-looking individuals, and Stewart felt rather inclined to dispense with their services, but, thinking it unwise to show any signs of distrust, he accepted them with the best grace he could.

After riding fifteen or sixteen miles, Stewart's horse fell from exhaustion, on which his so-called escort laughed uproariously, and galloped off, leaving our poor traveller to his own devices.

Believing the horse could not recover, Stewart took off the saddle and bridle and tramped to the nearest village, where he hoped to be able to buy or hire an animal of some kind on which to continue his journey. No one, however, would help him, and he was forced to seize a donkey which he found grazing in a field hard by. About sunset he reached Kosi, thirty-seven miles from Muttra. The tehsildar[2] received him courteously, and gave him some bread and milk, but would not hear of his staying for the night. He told him that his appearance in the town was causing considerable excitement, and that he could not be responsible for his safety. Stewart was much exhausted after his hot ride, but as the tehsildar stood firm there was nothing for him to do but to continue his journey, and he consented to start if he were provided with a horse. The tehsildar promptly offered his own pony, and as soon as it was dark Stewart set out for the Jaipur camp. His progress during the night was slow, and it was not until eight o'clock the next morning that he reached his destination, where he was hospitably received by the Political Agent, Major Eden, who introduced him to the Maharaja's Wazir. This official at first promised to give Stewart a small escort as far as Delhi, but on various pretexts he put him off from day to day. At the end of a week Stewart saw that the Wazir either could not or would not give him an escort, and thinking it useless to delay any longer, he made up his mind to start without one.

There were several refugees in the camp, and one of them, Mr. Ford, collector and magistrate of Gurgaon, offered to join Stewart in his venture.

Stewart and his companion left the Jaipur camp on the afternoon of the 27th June, and reached Palwal soon after dark. Ford sent for the kotwal,[3] who was one of his own district officials, and asked him for food. This was produced, but the kotwal besought the sahibs to move on without delay, telling them that their lives were in imminent danger, as there was a rebel regiment in the town, and he was quite unable to protect them. So they continued their journey, and, escaping from one or two threatened attacks by robbers, reached Badshahpur in the morning. Here they rested during the heat of the day, being kindly treated by the villagers, who were mostly Hindus.