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MY EXPERIENCES
IN
MANIPUR AND THE NAGA HILLS
By the late
Major-General SIR JAMES JOHNSTONE
K.C.S.I.
With an introductory memoir
Illustrated
London
Sampson Low, Marston and Company
Limited
St. Dunstan's House
Fetter Lane, Fleet Street, E.C.
1896
I DEDICATE
THESE PAGES TO THE MEMORY OF
My Wife,
WHO SHARED IN MANY OF MY LABOURS AND ANXIETIES
IN MANIPUR, AND THE NAGA HILLS,
AND WHOSE SPIRIT INSPIRED ME IN MY LAST ENTERPRISE,
AND WHO, HAD SHE LIVED,
WOULD HAVE WRITTEN A BETTER RECORD OF
OUR EXPERIENCES THAN I HAVE
BEEN ABLE TO DO.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
When I first brought my wife out to India in 1873, I was struck by
the comments she made on things which had so long been part of my
daily life. I had almost ceased to observe them. Every day she noted
something new, and her diary was so interesting that I advised her
to write a book on her "First Impressions of India," and she meant
to do so, but never had time. Had she lived, this would have been a
pleasure to her, but it was otherwise ordained. I feel now that I am
in some way carrying out her wishes, by attempting a description of
our life in India, though I am fully sensible that I cannot hope to
achieve the pleasant chatty style in which she excelled.
I have also striven to give a fair record of the events with which I
was connected; and perhaps, as they include a description of a state
of things that has passed away for ever, they may not be devoid of
interest. I am one of those old-fashioned Anglo-Indians who still
believe in personal government, a system by which we gained India,
solidified our rule, and made ourselves fairly acceptable to the
people whom we govern. I believe the machine-like system which we have
introduced and are endeavouring to force into every corner of India,
till all personal influence is killed out, to be ill-adapted to the
requirements of these Oriental races, and blighting in its effects. Not
one native chief has adopted it in its integrity, which is in itself
a fair argument that it is distasteful to the native mind; and we may
be assured that if we evacuated India to-morrow, personal rule would
again make itself felt throughout the length and breadth of the land,
and grow stronger every day. I have always striven to be a reformer,
but a reformer building on the solid foundations that we already find
everywhere in India. Wherever you go, if there is a semblance of
native rule left, you find a system admirably adapted to the needs
of the population, though very often grown over with abuses. Clear
away these abuses, and add a little in the way of modern progress,
but always building on the foundation you find ready to hand, and
you have a system acceptable to all.
We are wonderfully timid in sweeping away real abuses, for fear of
hurting the feelings of the people; at the same time we weigh them
down with unnecessary, oppressive, and worrying forms, and deluge the
country with paper returns, never realising that these cause far more
annoyance than would be felt at our making some radical change in a
matter which, after all, affects only a minority. Take, for instance,
the case of suttee, or widow-burning. It was argued for years that
we could not put it down without causing a rebellion. What are the
facts? A governor-general, blessed with moral courage in a great
degree, determined to abolish the barbarous custom, and his edict
was obeyed without a murmur. So it has been in many other cases,
and so it will be wherever we have the courage to do the right
thing. An unpopular tax would cause more real dissatisfaction than
any interference with bad old customs, only adhered to from innate
conservatism. The great principle on which to act is to do what
is right, and what commends itself to common sense, and to try and
carry the people with you. Do not let us have more mystery than is
necessary; telling the plain truth is the best course; vacillation
is fatal; the strongest officer is generally the most popular, and
is remembered by the people long after he is dead and gone.
Personal rule is doomed, and men born to be personal rulers and a
blessing to the governed, are now harassed by the authorities till
they give up in despair, and swim with the stream.
The machine system did not gain India, and will not keep it for us;
we must go back to a better system, or be prepared to relax our
grasp, and give up the grandest work any nation ever undertook--the
regeneration of an empire!
The House of Commons has to answer for much. No Indian administration
is safe from the interference of theorists. To-day it is opium that
is attacked by self-righteous individuals, who see in the usual, and
in most cases harmless, stimulant of millions, a crying evil; while
they view with apparent complacency the expenditure of L120,000,000
per annum on intoxicating liquors in England, and long columns in
almost every newspaper recording brutal outrages on helpless women
and children as the result.
Then the military administration is attacked, and in pursuance of
another chimera, an iniquitous bill is forced on the Government
of India calculated to produce results, which will probably sap
the efficiency of our army at a critical moment. So it goes on,
and it is hardly to be wondered at that the authorities in India
give up resistance in sheer disgust, knowing all the while that,
as the French say, le deluge must come after them.
It may be said, "What has all this to do with Manipur and the Naga
Hills?" Nothing perhaps directly, but indirectly a great deal. The
system which I decry carries its evil influence everywhere, and Manipur
has suffered from it. I describe the Naga Hills and Manipur as they
were in old days. I strove hard for years to hold the floods back from
this little State and to preserve it intact, while doing all I could
to introduce reforms. Now the floods have overwhelmed it, and if it
rises again above them it will not be the Manipur that I knew and
loved. May it, in spite of my doubts and fears, be a better Manipur.
CONTENTS
Page
Introduction xix
Chapter I.
Arrival in India--Hospitable friends--The Lieut.-Governor--Journey
to the Naga Hills--Nigriting--Golaghat--A panther reminiscence--Hot
springs--A village dance--Dimapur--My new abode 1
Chapter II.
Samagudting--Unhealthy quarters--A callous widower--Want of
water--Inhabitants of the Naga Hills--Captain Butler--Other
officials--Our life in the wilds--A tiger carries off the
postman--An Indian forest--Encouragement 12
Chapter III.
Historical events connected with Manipur and the Naga
Hills--Different tribes--Their religion--Food and customs 22
Chapter IV.
Value of keeping a promise--Episode of Sallajee--Protection
given to small villages, and the large one defied--"Thorough"
Government of India's views--A plea for Christian education in
the Naga Hills 37
Chapter V.
Visit Dimapur--A terrible storm--Cultivation--Aggression by
Konoma--My ultimatum--Konoma submits--Birth of a son--Forest
flowers--A fever patient--Proposed change of station--Leave
Naga Hills--March through the forest--Depredation by
tigers--Calcutta--Return to England 45
Chapter VI.
Return to India--Attached to Foreign Office--Imperial assemblage at
Delhi--Almorah--Appointed to Manipur--Journey to Shillong--Cherra
Poojee--Colonel McCulloch--Question of ceremony 54
Chapter VII.
Start for Manipur--March over the hills--Lovely scenery--View of
the valley--State reception--The Residency--Visitors 60
Chapter VIII.
Visit the Maharajah--His ministers--Former revolutions--Thangal
Major 69
Chapter IX.
Manipur--Early history--Our connection with it--Ghumbeer
Singh--Burmese war 78
Chapter X.
Ghumbeer Singh and our treatment of him--Nur Singh and
attempt on his life--McCulloch--His wisdom and generosity--My
establishment--Settlement of frontier dispute 88
Chapter XI.
My early days in Manipur--The capital--The inhabitants--Good
qualities of Manipuris--Origin of valley of Manipur--Expedition
to the Naga Hills--Lovely scenery--Attack on Kongal Tannah by
Burmese--Return from Naga Hills--Visit Kongal Tannah 95
Chapter XII.
Discussions as to new Residency--Its completion--Annual
boat-races--Kang-joop-kool--Daily work--Dealings with the
Durbar 104
Chapter XIII.
Violent conduct of Prince Koireng--A rebuke--Service
payment--Advantages of Manipuri system--Customs
duties--Slavery--Releasing slaves--Chowbas' fidelity--Sepoy's
kindness to children--Visit to the Yoma range 112
Chapter XIV.
An old acquaintance--Monetary crisis--A cure for breaking
crockery--Rumour of human sacrifices--Improved postal
system--Apricots--Mulberries--A snake story--Search after
treasure--Another snake story--Visit to Calcutta--Athletics--Ball
practice--A near shave 122
Chapter XV.
Spring in Manipur--Visit Kombang--Manipuri orderlies--Parade of
the Maharajah's Guards--Birth of a daughter--An evening walk in
the capital--Polo--Visit to Cachar 131
Chapter XVI.
Punishment of female criminals--A man saved from execution--A Kuki
executed--Old customs abolished--Anecdote of Ghumbeer Singh--The
Manipuri army--Effort to re-organise Manipur Levy--System
of rewards--"Nothing for nothing"--An English school--Hindoo
festivals--Rainbows--View from Kang-joop-kool 138
Chapter XVII.
Mr. Damant and the Naga Hills--Rumours on which I act--News
of revolt in Naga Hills and Mr. Damant's murder--Maharajah's
loyalty--March to the relief of Kohima--Relief of Kohima--Incidents
of siege--Heroism of ladies--A noble defence 147
Chapter XVIII.
Restoring order and confidence--Arrival of Major Evans--Arrival
of Major Williamson--Keeping open communication--Attack on
Phesama--Visit to Manipur--General Nation arrives--Join him at
Suchema--Prepare to attack Konoma--Assault of Konoma 161
Chapter XIX.
Konoma evacuated--Journey to Suchema for provisions and ammunition,
and return--We march to Suchema with General--Visit Manipur--Very
ill--Meet Sir Steuart Bayley in Cachar--His visit to Manipur--Grand
reception--Star of India--Chussad attack on Chingsow--March to
Kohima and back--Reflections on Maharajah's services--Naga Hills
campaign overshadowed by Afghan war 175
Chapter XX.
Visit Chingsow to investigate Chussad outrage--Interesting
country--Rhododendrons--Splendid forest--Chingsow and the
murders--Chattik--March back across the hills 182
Chapter XXI.
Saving a criminal from execution--Konoma men visit me--A
terrible earthquake--Destruction wrought in the capital--Illness
of the Maharajah--Question as to the succession--Arrival of
the Queen's warrant--Reception by the Maharajah--The Burmese
question 190
Chapter XXII.
March to Mao and improvement of the road--Lieutenant
Raban--Constant troubles with Burmah--Visit to Mr. Elliott
at Kohima--A tiger hunt made easy--A perilous adventure--Rose
bushes--Brutal conduct of Prince Koireng--We leave Manipur for
England 198
Chapter XXIII.
Return to Manipur--Revolution in my absence--Arrangements for
boundary--Survey and settlement--Start for Kongal--Burmese will
not act--We settle boundary--Report to Government--Return to
England 208
Chapter XXIV.
Return to India--Visit to Shillong--Manipur again--Cordial
reception--Trouble with Thangal Major--New arts introduced 216
Chapter XXV.
A friend in need--Tour round the valley--Meet the Chief
Commissioner--March to Cachar--Tour through the Tankhool
country--Metomi Saramettie--Somrah--Terrace cultivators--A
dislocation--Old quarters at Kongal Tannah--Return to the valley
--A sad parting 223
Chapter XXVI.
More trouble with Thangal Major--Tit-for-tat--Visit to the Kubo
valley--A new Aya Pooiel--Journey to Shillong--War is declared--A
message to Kendat to the Bombay-Burmah Corporation agents--Anxiety
as to their fate--March to Mao 236
Chapter XXVII.
News from Kendat--Mr. Morgan and his people safe--I determine to
march to Moreh Tannah--March to Kendat--Arrive in time to save
the Bombay-Burmah Corporation Agents--Visit of the Woon--Visit
to the Woon 244
Chapter XXVIII.
People fairly friendly--Crucifixion--Carelessness of Manipuris--I
cross the Chindwin--Recross the Chindwin--Collect provisions--Erect
stockades and fortify our position--Revolt at Kendat--We assume the
offensive--Capture boats and small stockades--Revolt put down--Woon
and Ruckstuhl rescued--Steamers arrive and leave 251
Chapter XXIX.
Mischief done by departure of steamers--Determine to establish the
Woon at Tamu--The country quieting down--Recovery of mails--Letter
from the Viceroy--Arrive at Manipur--Bad news--I return to
Tamu--Night march to Pot-tha--An engagement--Wounded--Return to
Manipur--Farewell--Leave for England 260
Chapter XXX.
Conclusion.
The events of 1890-1 271
INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.
These experiences were written in brief intervals of leisure, during
the last few months of the author's busy life, which was brought to
a sudden close before they were finally revised. Only last March when
his nearest relations met at Fulford Hall to take leave of the eldest
son of the house, before he sailed for India, the manuscript was still
incomplete, and Sir James read some part of it aloud. His health had
suffered greatly from over-fatigue in the unhealthy parts of India,
in which his lot had been chiefly cast, but it was now quite restored
and a prolonged period of usefulness seemed before him.
Improvements on the farms on his estate, a church within reach of his
cottagers, to be built as a memorial to his late wife, and the hope
of being once more employed abroad, probably as a colonial governor,
were all plans for the immediate future, while the present was
occupied with the magisterial and other business (including lectures
on history in village institutes), which fill up so much of an English
country gentleman's life. He had saved nothing in India. What the
Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal wrote in 1872 of his early work at
Keonjhur, applied to everything else he subsequently undertook:
"Captain Johnstone's schools, twenty in number, continue to flourish,
attracting an average attendance of 665 children. Captain Johnstone's
efforts to improve the crops and cattle of Keonjhur have before been
remarked by the Lieutenant-Governor. His sacrifices for this end and
for his charge generally, are, His Honour believes, almost unique." [1]
But in 1881 by the death of his late father's elder brother, he
inherited the Fulford estate on the boundaries of Worcestershire and
Warwickshire, as well as Dunsley Manor in Staffordshire. The old Hall
at Fulford, a strongly built, black and white, half-timbered erection
of some centuries back, had been pulled down a few years before,
and Sir James built the present house close to the old site. It was
here that he was brought back in a dying state on June 13th, 1895,
about 10 A.M., after riding out of the grounds only ten minutes
before, full of life and energy. No one witnessed what occurred;
he was a splendid horseman, but there was evidence that the horse,
always inclined to be restive, had taken fright on passing a cottager's
gate and tried to turn back, and that, as its master's whip was still
firmly grasped in his hand, there had been a struggle.
He was engaged to assist the next day at the annual meeting of the
Conservative and Unionist Association at Stratford-on-Avon. The Marquis
of Hertford, who presided, when announcing the catastrophe in very
feeling terms, spoke of the excellent work that Sir James Johnstone
had done for the Unionist cause in Warwickshire. At Wythall Church
(of which he was warden) the Vicar alluded, the following Sunday, to
"the striking example he had set of a devout and attentive worshipper."
A retired official who had been acquainted with him in India for
over thirty years, wrote on the same occasion to Captain Charles
Johnstone, R.N.: "Your brother was a type of character not at all
common, high-principled, fearless, just, with an overwhelming sense
of duty, and restless spirit of adventure. It is by characters of
his type, that our great empire has been created, and it is only if
such types continue that we may look forward and hope that it will
be maintained and extended."
Although the family from which Sir James Johnstone sprang is of
Scottish origin, his own branch of it had lived in Worcestershire
and Warwickshire for nearly a century and a half. "It has taken a
prominent part in the social and public life of the Midlands, and
has produced several eminent physicians." [2] He was the eleventh in
direct male descent from William Johnstone of Graitney, who received
a charter of the barony of Newbie for "distinguished services" to
the Scottish crown in 1541. A remnant of the old Scottish estates was
inherited by his great-grandfather, Dr. James Johnstone, who died at
Worcester in 1802, and who, being the fourth son of his parents, had
left Annandale at the age of twenty-one to settle in Worcestershire
as a physician, but who always kept up his relations with Scotland,
and meant to return there in his old age. His anxiety to secure this
estate--Galabank--in the male line, really defeated his purpose; for
he bequeathed it to his then unmarried younger son, the late Dr. John
Johnstone, F.R.S., whose daughter now possesses it, to the exclusion of
his elder sons who seemed likely to leave nothing but daughters. One
of these elder sons was Sir James's grandfather, the late Dr. Edward
Johnstone of Edgbaston Hall, who had married the heiress of Fulford,
but was left a widower in 1800. Dr. Edward Johnstone was remarried
in 1802 to Miss Pearson of Tettenhall, and of their two sons, the
younger, James, born in 1806, practised for many years as a physician,
and was President of the British Medical Association when it met
in Birmingham in 1856. His eldest son, the subject of this notice,
was born in a house now pulled down in the Old Square, Birmingham,
on February 9th, 1841. Brought up in the midst of the large family of
brothers and sisters, whose childhood was passed between their home
in the Old Square and their grandfather's residence at Edgbaston Hall,
where they spent the summer and autumn: he used also to look back with
particular pleasure on his visits to his maternal grandfather's country
house, where he first mounted a pony. His mother was his instructor,
except occasional lessons from the Rev. T. Price, till at the age of
nine he entered King Edward's Classical School, of which his father
was a governor. The head master at that time (1850), was the Rev. (now
Archdeacon) E. H. Gifford, D.D., and in the school list for 1852,
Johnstone senior is placed next in the same class to Mackenzie (now
Sir Alex.), the present Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal.
In 1855, young James Johnstone went to a military college in Paris,
which was swept away before 1870, with a great part of the older
portion of the city. After a year and a half in Paris he was
transferred to the Royal Naval and Military Academy, Gosport, and
a few months later qualified for one of the last cadetships given
under the old East India Company. Without delay he proceeded to
India, which was at that period distracted by the Indian Mutiny,
so that his regiment the 68th Bengal Native Infantry, consisted only
of officers attached to different European regiments, or acting in a
civil capacity. With the 73rd (Queen's Regiment) he marched through
the country, and was actively employed in the suppression of the
insurgents, after which he was stationed for some time in Assam where
he also saw active service. There, in 1862, he met with the accident
he alludes to on pp. 3 and 20. It came in the course of his duty, as
the population of a village which had been disarmed had sent to the
nearest military post to ask for assistance against a tiger (panther),
causing destruction in the neighbourhood; but he was very much hurt,
and the weakening effects of this accident, seem to have predisposed
him to attacks of the malaria fever of the district, from which he
frequently suffered afterwards.
His next post was at Keonjhur, where there had been an outbreak
against the Rajah by some of the hill-tribes and the chief insurgent
had been executed. Lieutenant Johnstone was appointed special
assistant to the superintendent of the Tributary Mehals at Cuttack,
in whose official district Keonjhur lies. The Superintendent wrote
to the Lieutenant-Governor (Sir William Grey) of Bengal in 1869:
"Captain Johnstone has acquired their full confidence, and hopes
very shortly to be able to dispense with the greater part of the
Special Police Force posted at Keonjhur. He appears to take very
great interest in his work, and is sanguine of success." The same
official when enclosing Captain Johnstone's first report, wrote:
"It contains much interesting matter regarding the people, and shows
that he has taken great pains in bringing them into the present
peaceable and apparently loyal condition," and a little further on,
when describing an interview he had with the Rajah: "From the manner
in which he spoke of Captain Johnstone, I was exceedingly glad to
find that the most good feeling exists between them." He also adds,
apropos of a recommendation that the Government should pay half the
expense of the special commission instead of charging it all on the
native state: "Nearly one half of Captain Johnstone's time has been
occupied in Khedda (catching wild elephants) operations, which have
been successful and profitable to Government, and totally unconnected
with that officer's duty in Keonjhur." [3]
A year later the superintendent (T. E. Ravenshaw, Esq.) reports:
"Captain Johnstone, with his usual liberality and tact, has clothed
two thousand naked savages, and has succeeded in inducing them to wear
the garments;" and again, "Captain Johnstone's success in establishing
schools has been most marked, and there are now nine hundred children
receiving a rudimentary education.... Captain Johnstone has very
correctly estimated the political importance of education and
enlightenment among the hill people, and it is evident that he has
worked most judiciously and successfully in this direction." And again:
"In the matter of improvement of breed of cattle, Captain Johnstone
has, at his own expense, formed a valuable herd of sixty cows and
several young bulls ready to extend the experiment.... Captain
Johnstone's experiments on rice and flax cultivation have been
very successful" (two years later this is attributed to his having
superintended them himself). The official report sums up, "Of Captain
Johnstone I cannot speak too highly; his management has been efficient,
and he has exercised careful and constant supervision over the Rajah
and his estate, in a manner which has resulted in material improvement
to both."
Subsequently, when Captain Johnstone was on leave in England, the
Keonjhur despatches show that he sent directions that the increase of
his herd of cattle should be distributed gratis among the natives. They
were at first afraid to accept them, hardly believing in the gift.
"Keonjhur," says the Government report of India for 1870-1, "continues
under the able administration of Captain Johnstone, who, it will be
remembered, was mainly instrumental in restoring the country to quiet
three years ago."
Captain Johnstone was too good a classic not to remember the Roman
method of conquering and subduing a province; and as far as funds
would permit, he opened out roads and cleared away jungle. But he
suffered again from the malaria so prevalent in the forest districts
of India, and took three months' furlough in 1871, which meant just
one month in England. Although he had lost his father in May, 1869,
and his absence from home that year gave him some extra legal expense,
he would not quit his work till he could leave it in a satisfactory
state; yet the Lieut.-Governor of Bengal (Sir George Campbell) twice
referred to this furlough as being "most unfortunate," particularly
as it had to be repeated within a few months. The superintendent
wrote from Cuttack in his yearly report to the Lieut.-Governor:
"Captain Johnstone's serious and alarming illness necessitated his
taking sick leave to England in August, 1871. He had only a short
time previously returned from furlough, and with health half restored,
over-tasked his strength in carrying out elephant Khedda work in the
deadly jungles of Moburdhunj."
In the spring of 1872, Captain Johnstone was married to Emma Mary
Lloyd, with whose family his own had a hereditary friendship of
three generations. Her father was at that time M.P. for Plymouth,
and living at Moor Hall in Warwickshire. Their first child, James,
died of bronchitis when six months old, and they returned to India
a short time afterwards, at which point the experiences begin. Their
second child, Richard, was born at Samagudting, and is now a junior
officer in the battalion of the 60th King's Own Royal Rifles, quartered
in India. The third son, Edward, was born at Dunsley Manor, and two
younger children in Manipur.
Manipur, to which Colonel Johnstone was appointed in 1877, was
called by one of the Indian secretaries the Cinderella among
political agencies. "They'll never," he said, "get a good man to
take it." "Well," was the reply, "a good man has taken it now." The
loneliness, the surrounding savages, and the ill-feeling excited by
the Kubo valley (which so late as 1852 is placed in Manipur, in maps
published in Calcutta) having been made over to Burmah, were among the
reasons of its unpopularity. Colonel Johnstone's predecessor, Captain
Durand (now Sir Edward) draws a very glaring picture in his official
report for 1877, of the Maharajah's misgovernment; the wretched
condition of the people, and the most unpleasant position of the
Political Agent, whom he described as "in fact a British officer under
Manipur surveillance.... He is surrounded by spies.... If the Maharajah
is not pleased with the Political Agent he cannot get anything--he is
ostracised. From bad coarse black atta, which the Maharajah sells him
as a favour, to the dhoby who washes his clothes, and the Nagas who
work in his garden, he cannot purchase anything." Yet, well knowing all
this, Colonel Johnstone readily accepted the post, confident that with
his great knowledge of Eastern languages, and of Eastern customs and
modes of thought, he should be able to bring about a better state of
things, both as regarded the oppressed inhabitants and the permanent
influence of the representative of the British Government. Whether
this confidence was justified, the following pages will show.
EDITOR.
MY EXPERIENCES IN MANIPUR AND THE NAGA HILLS.
CHAPTER I.
Arrival in India--Hospitable friends--The
Lieutenant-Governor--Journey to the Naga
Hills--Nigriting--Golaghat--A Panther reminiscence--Hot springs--A
village dance--Dimapur--My new abode.
I left England with my wife on November 13th, 1873, and after an
uneventful voyage, reached Bombay, December 9th. We proceeded at once
to Calcutta, where some of my old servants joined me, including two
bearers, Seewa and Keptie, wild Bhooyas from the Cuttack Tributary
Mehals, whom I had trained, and who had been with me for years in
all my wanderings, in that wild territory. Thanks to the kindness of
my friends the Bernards (now Sir C. and Lady Bernard), we spent only
a day at an hotel, and remained under their hospitable roof till we
left Calcutta.
My old appointment in Keonjhur had been abolished, and I had to wait
till another was open to me. I had several interviews on the subject
with the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, Sir G. Campbell. Finally it
was decided that I should go to Assam (then about to be made into a
Chief Commissionership) and act as Political Agent of the Naga Hills,
while the permanent official--Captain Butler--was away in the Interior,
and subsequently on leave. I knew a large part of the district well,
as one of the most malarious in India, and when asked if I would take
the appointment, said, "Yes, I have no objection, but just hint to
the Lieutenant-Governor that unless he wants to kill me off, it may
be better policy to send me elsewhere, as the Medical Board in London
said, I must not go to a malarious district, after the experience
I have had of it in Keonjhur." The Secretary conveyed my hint, and
when I next saw him, said, "The Lieutenant-Governor says, that is
all stuff and nonsense." Later on Sir G. Campbell asked if my wife
would go with me. I quietly replied that she would go anywhere with me.
Finally, on December 30th, we left Calcutta, and after a night in the
train, embarked in one of the I. G. S. N. Co.'s steamers at Goalundo,
for Nigriting on the Burrhampooter, where we had to land for the Naga
Hills. The steamers of those days, were not like the well-appointed
mail boats now in use. The voyage was long, the steamers uncomfortable,
and the company on board anything but desirable. All the same, the
days passed pleasantly, while we slowly wended our way up the mighty
river, amid lovely and interesting scenery all new to my wife, to
whom I pointed out the different historic spots as they came in view.
We halted at Gowhatty for the night, and early in the morning I swam
across the river for the second time in my life, a distance of about
three miles, as the current carried me in a slanting direction.
At last we reached Nigriting, and were landed on a dry sandbank five
or six miles from the celebrated tea gardens of that name, and the
nearest habitations. Fortunately, I had brought a tent and all things
needful for a march; and my servants, well accustomed to camp life,
soon pitched it and made us comfortable, and my wife was charmed with
her first experience. We had a message of welcome from Mr. Boyle,
of Nigriting Factory, and the next day went to his house in canoes,
whence we set out for Golaghat.
It was to Nigriting that I was carried for change of air nearly
twelve years before, when, in April, 1862, I was desperately wounded
in an encounter with a large panther near Golaghat, where I had been
stationed. I then lived for a week or so in a grass hut on a high
bank, and the fresh air made my obstinate wounds begin to heal. Thus it
happened that all the people knew me well, and I was long remembered by
the name of "Baghe Khooah" literally the "tiger eaten," a name which I
found was still familiar to every one. Loading our things on elephants,
and having a pony for my wife, and a dandy (hill litter) in case she
grew tired, we set off for Golaghat, and had a picnic luncheon on the
way. How delightful are our first experiences of marching in India,
even when we have, as in this case, to put up with some discomfort;
the cool, crisp air in the morning; the good appetite that a ten-mile
walk or ride gives; the feeling that breakfast has been earned, and
finally breakfast itself; and such a good one. Where indeed but in
India could we have a first-rate meal of three or four courses, and
every dish hot, with no better appliances in the shape of a fireplace,
than two or three clods of earth? Often have I had a dinner fit for
a king, when heavy rain had been falling for hours, and there was no
shelter for my men, but a tree with a sheet thrown over a branch.
We breakfasted at a place called "Char Allee" and the march being
long (nearly twenty miles), the sun was low long before reaching
Golaghat. As we passed some road coolies, I began a conversation with
the old Tekla (overseer) in charge, and asked him if he could get me
a few oranges. He said, "Oh no, they are all over." He then asked me
how I came to speak Assamese so well. I said, "I have been in Assam
before." He said, "Oh yes, there have been many sahibs in my time,"
and he named several; "and then long ago there was a 'Baghe Khooah'
sahib, I wonder where he is now?" I looked at him and said, "Ami Baghe
Khooah" (I am the Baghe Khooah). The old man gazed equally hard at
me for a moment and then ran in front of me and made a most profound
obeisance. Having done this, he smilingly said, "I think I can find
you some oranges after all," and at once ran off, and brought me some
for which he refused to take anything. The good old man walked about a
mile farther before he wished me good-bye; and my wife and I went on,
greatly pleased to find that I was so well remembered.
We did not get to Golaghat till long after dark, and pitched our tent
on the site of the lines of my old detachment, which I had commanded
twelve years before. What a change! Trees that I had remembered as
small, had grown large, and some that were planted since I left,
already a fair size.
In the morning we received a perfect ovation. People who had known me
before, crowded to see me and pay their respects, many of them bringing
their children born since I had left. All this was pleasant enough and
greatly delighted my wife, but we had to proceed on our way, and it
is always difficult to get one's followers to move from a civilised
place, where there is a bazaar, into the jungle, and henceforth our
road lay through jungle, the Nambor forest beginning about five miles
from Golaghat. At last coolies to carry my wife arrived, and I sent
her on in her "dandy" with her ayah, charging the bearers to wait
for me at a village I well knew, called "Sipahee Hoikeeah." The men
replied, "Hoi Deota" (Yes, deity [4]) and started. The elephants
were a great difficulty, and it was some hours before I could get
off, and even then some had not arrived. However, off I started,
and hurried on to "Sipahee Hoikeeah" so as not to keep my wife
waiting, but when I reached the spot, I found to my amazement that
the village had ceased to exist, having, as I subsequently learned,
been abandoned for fear of the Nagas. I hurried on in much anxiety,
as my wife did not speak Hindoostani, and neither ayah nor bearers
spoke English. At last I caught them up at the Nambor hot springs,
called by natives the "Noonpoong" where we were to halt.
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FIGURE
Camping Out.
[Page 6.
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The Noonpoong is situated in a lovely spot amidst fine forest. The
hot water springs out of the ground, at a temperature of 112 degrees
and fills a small pool. It is similar in taste to the waters
of Aix-la-Chapelle, and is highly efficacious in skin diseases,
being resorted to even for the cure of severe leech bites, which
are easily obtained from the land leech infesting all the forests
of Assam. Fortunately some of our cooking things, with chairs and a
table arrived, also a mattress, but no bed and no tent. We waited
till 9 P.M., and finding that no more elephants came up, I made
up a bed for my wife on the ground under a table, to shelter her
from the dew, but while sitting by the camp fire for a last warm,
we heard the noise of an elephant, and saw one emerging from the
forest. Fortunately he carried the tent which was quickly pitched,
and we passed a comfortable night.
The hot springs are not the only attraction of the neighbourhood, as
about two miles off in the forest, there is a very pretty waterfall,
not high, but the volume of water is considerable, and it comes down
with a thundering sound heard for some distance. The natives call it
the "phutta hil," literally "rent rock." The Nambor forest is noted
for its Nahor or Nagessur trees (Mesua Ferma) a handsome tree, the
heart of which is a fine red wood, very hard and very heavy, and quite
impervious to the attacks of white ants. Europeans call it the iron
wood of Assam. It is very plentiful in parts of the forest between
the Noonpoong and Golaghat, and also grows in the lowlands of Manipur.
The next morning we set out for Borpathar, a village with a fine sheet
of cultivation on the banks of the Dunseree, and took up our quarters
in the old blockhouse, which had been converted into a comfortable rest
house. Here again we received a perfect ovation, the people, headed by
my old friend Hova Ram, now promoted to a Mouzadar, coming in a body,
with fruit and eggs, etc., to pay their respects. The population had
sadly diminished since my early days, the people having in many cases
fled the country for fear of Naga raids.
The march having been a short one, all our baggage had time to come
up. In the evening the girls of the village entertained us with one
of their national dances, a very pretty and interesting sight. After
a good night's rest we again started, our march lying through the
noble forest, where buttressed trees formed an arch over the road,
showing plainly that Gothic architecture was an adaptation from
nature. I had never marched along the road since it was cleared; but
I was there in 1862, in pursuit of some Naga raiders, when it would
have been impassable, but for elephant and rhinoceros tracks. Even
then I was struck by its great beauty, and now it was a fairly good
cold weather track.
We halted at Deo Panee, then at Hurreo Jan, and Nowkatta, and on the
fourth day reached Dimapur, where we found a comfortable rest house,
on the banks of a fine tank about two hundred yards square. This,
with many others near it, spoke of days of civilisation that had long
since passed away, before the Naga drove the Cacharee from the hills he
now inhabits, and from the rich valley of the Dunseree. Near Dimapur
we passed a Meekir hut built on posts ten or twelve feet high, and
with a notched log resting against it, at an angle of about seventy
degrees by way of a staircase, up which a dog ran like a squirrel
at our approach. The Meekirs occupy some low hill ranges between the
Naga hills and the Burrhampooter.
The country round Dimapur is exceedingly rich, and everywhere bears
the marks of having been thickly populated. It is well supplied
with artificial square tanks, some much larger than the one already
referred to, and on the opposite bank of the river we crossed to reach
our halting place, are the remains of an old fortified city. Mounds
containing broken pottery made with the wheel, abound, though the
neighbouring tribes have forgotten its use. At Dimapur, in those days,
there were three or four Government elephants and a few shops kept by
"Khyahs," an enterprising race of merchants from Western India.
The ruined city is worth describing. It was surrounded originally by
solid brick walls twelve feet in height and six in thickness, the
bricks admirably made and burned. The walls enclosed a space seven
hundred yards square; it was entered by a Gothic archway, and not far
off had a gap in the wall, said to have been made for cattle to enter
by. Inside were tanks, some lined with brick walls, and with brick
steps leading to the water. Though I carefully explored the interior,
I never saw any other traces of brickwork, except perhaps a platform;
but I found one or two sacrificial stones, for offerings of flowers,
water and oil. One corner of the surrounding wall had been cut away
by the river. The enclosure is covered with forest. Near the gateway
are some huge monoliths, one eighteen feet in height. All are covered
with sculpture, and some have deep grooves cut in the top, as if to
receive beams. It is difficult to conjecture what they were brought
there for, and how they were transported, as the nearest rocks from
which they could have been cut, are at least ten miles away. If the
Assam-Bengal Railway passes near Dimapur as is, I believe, arranged,
this interesting old city wall will probably be used as a quarry for
railway purposes, and soon none of it will remain. Alas, for Vandalism!
History tells us little about the origin of Dimapur, but probably it
was once a centre of Cacharee civilisation, and as the Angami Nagas
advanced, the city wall was built, so as to afford a place of refuge
against sudden raids. It is a strange sight to see the relics of a
forgotten civilisation, in the midst of a pathless forest.
On our march up, we frequently came upon the windings of the river
Dunseree. At Nowkatta it runs parallel for a time with the road, and
we took our evening walk on its dry sandbanks, finding many recent
traces of tigers and wild elephants. From that time till we finally
left the hills, the roar of tigers and the trumpeting of elephants
were such common sounds, that we ceased to pay attention to them, and
my wife, though naturally timid, became devoted to the wild solitude
of our life.
At Dimapur we enjoyed the luxury of fresh milk, which, of course,
the forest did not supply. The night was delightfully cold, and the
next morning crisp and invigorating, and we set off at an early hour,
for our last march into Samagudting.
For the first eight miles our road was through a level forest country,
with the exception of a piece of low-lying grass land, and at a place
called Nichu Guard the ascent of the hill commenced. This entrance of
the gorge through which the Diphoo Panee river enters the low lands is
very beautiful, the stream rushing out from the hills over a pebbly
bottom, and it was a favourite encamping ground for us in our later
marches. Now, we had not time to halt, so hurried on. The road up the
hill was in fair condition for men and elephants, but did not admit
of wheeled traffic, had there been any carts to use. We accomplished
the ascent, a distance of four miles, in about two hours, obtaining
several lovely views of the boundless forest, on our way.
The vegetation on the hill itself had been much injured by the
abominable practice hillmen have, of clearing a fresh space every two
or three years, and deserting it for another, when the soil has been
exhausted. This never gives it time to recover. At last we reached
the summit, and took possession of the Political Agent's house, a
large bungalow, built of grass and bamboo, the roof being supported by
wooden posts, on the highest point of the hill. A glance showed me that
the posts were nearly eaten through by white ants, and that the first
high wind would level it with the ground. It had been built by a man
who never intended to stay, and who only wanted it to last his time.
Later in the day, I took over the charge from Mr. Coombs, who was
acting till my arrival, and thus became, for the time, chief of the
district. My staff consisted of Mr. Needham, Assistant Political Agent,
and Mr. Cooper, in medical charge, the usual office establishment,
and one hundred and fifty military police. Most of these, together with
Captain Butler, for whom I was acting, were away in the Interior with
a survey party. Mr. Coombs left in a day or two, and I then occupied
his bungalow lower down the hill, and in a more exposed position, so
as to allow of the larger house being rebuilt. Besides the Government
establishment, we had a fair-sized Naga village on the hill, and
just below the Political Agent's house. These people had long been
friendly to us, and were willing, for a large recompense, to do all
sorts of odd jobs, being entirely free from the caste prejudices of
our Hindoo and degenerate Mussulman fellow-subjects.