1859-1860
Delhi under a different aspect--Lord Clyde--Umritsar and Lahore
--The Lahore Durbar--Simla--Life at Simla
We remained at Agra until the 9th December. There was so much of
beauty and interest in and around the place, that Lady Canning found
a wealth of subjects for her facile pencil, and was well content to
remain there. There were the usual banquets to the residents, and
entertainments given by the Agra people to those in camp, one of them
being a party in the Taj gardens, to give us an opportunity of seeing
the tomb by moonlight, when it certainly looks its loveliest. My wife
was more delighted even than I had anticipated with the perfect
beauty of the Taj and the exquisite little mosque in the fort, the
Moti-Masjid. I greatly enjoyed showing her all that was worth seeing,
and witnessing her pleasure on first viewing these wonderful works of
art.
There was no halt again, except the usual one on Sunday, until we
reached Meerut on the 21st December.
Three marches from Agra a fire broke out in Lady Canning's tent soon
after she had retired for the night, caused by the iron pipe of
the stove, which passed through the side of the tent, becoming
over-heated. Lady Canning's tents were on one side of the big
dining-tent, and the Viceroy's on the other. Immediately on perceiving
the fire, Lady Canning ran across to awaken her husband, but the
Native sentry, who did not know her or understand a word of what she
was saying, would not let her in, and, in despair of being able to
make anyone hear, she rushed off to the tent of Sir Edward Campbell,
the Military Secretary, which was nearest her own. She succeeded
in awaking him, and then flew back to try and save some of her own
treasures. The first thing she thought of was her portfolio of
drawings, which she dragged outside; but it had already been partially
burned, and most of the valuable and characteristic sketches she had
made at the different durbars were destroyed. She next tried to rescue
her jewels, many of which she had worn the night before; her pearls
were lying on the dressing-table, and she was only just in time to
save them; one of the strings had caught fire, and several of the
pearls were blackened. She swept them off the table into a towel, and
threw them into a tub of water standing outside. Her wardrobe was
completely destroyed. More damage would have been done had not the
Private Secretary, Mr. Lewin Bowring, on the alarm being given,
hurried to the dining-tent, and, with great presence of mind, ordered
the Native Cavalry sentry to cut the ropes, causing it to fall at
once, and preventing the fire from spreading. Some office boxes and
records were destroyed, but nothing more. We were as usual in the
advance camp, and did not hear what had happened until next morning,
when Lady Canning arrived dressed in Lady Campbell's clothes; and as
Lady Canning was tall, and Lady Campbell was short, the effect was
rather funny.
Christmas was spent at Meerut, where I met several of my brother
officers, amongst others my particular friend Edwin Johnson, whom I
had the great pleasure of introducing to my wife. With scarcely
an exception, my friends became hers, and this added much to the
happiness of our Indian life.
Delhi, our next halting-place, was certainly not the least interesting
in our tour. Lord Canning was anxious to understand all about the
siege, and visited the different positions; the Ridge and its
surroundings, the breaches, and the palace, were the chief points
of interest. There were two 'Delhi men' besides myself to explain
everything to him, Sir Edward Campbell, who was with the 60th Rifles
throughout, and one of the best officers in the regiment, and Jemmy
Hills, who had now become the Viceroy's Aide-de-camp; while in Lord
Clyde's camp there were Norman, Stewart, and Becher.
I had, of course, taken my wife to the scenes of the fights at Agra,
Aligarh, and Bulandshahr, but Delhi had the greatest fascination for
her. It is certainly an extraordinarily attractive place, setting
aside the peculiar interest of the siege. For hundreds of years it had
been the seat of Government under Rulers of various nationalities and
religions; few cities have the remains of so much pomp and glory, and
very few bear the traces of having been besieged so often, or could
tell of so much blood spilt in their defence, or of such quantities of
treasure looted from them. When Tamerlane captured Delhi in 1398 the
city was given over to massacre for five days, 'some streets being
rendered impassable by heaps of dead'; and in 1739 the Persian
conqueror, Nadir Shah, after sacking the place for fifty-eight days
and massacring thousands of its inhabitants, carried off thirty-two
millions sterling of booty.
Although the fierce nature of the struggle that Delhi had gone through
in 1857 was apparent everywhere, the inhabitants seemed now to have
forgotten all about it. The city was as densely populated as it had
ever been; the Chandni Chauk was gay as formerly with draperies of
bright-coloured stuffs; jewellers and shawl-merchants carried on their
trades as briskly as ever, and were just as eager in their endeavours
to tempt the _Sahib log_ to spend their money as if trade had never
been interrupted; so quickly do Orientals recover from the effects of
a devastating war.
We left Delhi on the 3rd January, 1860, marching _viâ_ Karnal. When at
this place my wife went to see Lady Canning, as she often did if we
remained at all late in camp. On this particular occasion she found
her busy with the English mail, which had just arrived, so she said
she would not stay then, but would come next day instead. Lady
Canning, however, would not let my wife go until she had read her part
of a letter from Lady Waterford, which she thought would amuse her. It
was in answer to one from Lady Canning, in which she had described
the camp, and given her sister a list of all the people in it. Lady
Waterford wrote: 'Your Quartermaster-General must be the son of
General Roberts, who lives near Waterford; he came home on leave last
year. I must tell you an amusing little anecdote about his father. One
night, when the General was dining at Curraghmore, he found himself
sitting next the Primate of Ireland, with whom he entered into
conversation. After some time they discovered they had known each
other in the days of their youth, but had never met since a certain
morning on which they went out to fight a duel on account of some
squabble at a mess; happily the quarrel was stopped without any harm
being done, each feeling equally relieved at being prevented from
trying to murder the other, as they had been persuaded they were in
honour bound to do. The two old gentlemen made very merry over their
reminiscences.'
For some time I had been indulging a hope that I might be sent to
China with my old General, Hope Grant, who had been nominated to the
command of the expedition which, in co-operation with the French, was
being prepared to wipe out the disgrace of the repulse experienced
early in the year, by the combined French and English naval squadrons
in their attack on the Taku forts. My hope, however, was doomed to
disappointment. Lord Clyde decided to send Lumsden and Allgood as
A.Q.M.G.'s with the force, and I was feeling very low in consequence.
A day or two afterwards we dined with the Cannings, and Lord Clyde
took my wife in to dinner. His first remark to her was: 'I think I
have earned your gratitude, if I have not managed to satisfy everyone
by these China appointments.' On my wife asking for what she was
expected to be grateful, he said: 'Why, for not sending your husband
with the expedition, of course. I suppose you would rather not be
left in a foreign country alone a few months after your marriage? If
Roberts had not been a newly-married man, I would have sent him.'
This was too much for my wife, who sympathized greatly with my
disappointment, and she could not help retorting: 'I am afraid I
cannot be very grateful to you for making my husband feel I am ruining
his career by standing in the way of his being sent on service. You
have done your best to make him regret his marriage.' The poor old
Chief was greatly astonished, and burst out in his not too refined
way: 'Well, I'll be hanged if I can understand you women! I have done
the very thing I thought you would like, and have only succeeded in
making you angry. I will never try to help a woman again.' My wife
saw that he had meant to be kind, and that it was, as he said, only
because he did not 'understand women' that he had made the mistake.
She was soon appeased, and in the end she and Lord Clyde became great
friends.
The middle of January found us at Umballa, where Lord Canning met in
state all the Cis-Sutlej Sikh Chiefs. Fine, handsome men they most of
them were, and magnificently attired. The beautifully delicate tints
which the Sikhs are so fond of, the warlike costumes of some of the
Sirdars, the quiet dignity of these high-born men who had rendered
us such signal service in our hour of need, made the scene most
picturesque and impressive. The place of honour was given to the
Maharaja of Patiala (the grandfather of the present Maharaja), as the
most powerful of the Phulkian Princes; and he was followed by his
neighbours of Nabha and Jhind, all three splendid specimens of
well-bred Sikhs, of stately presence and courtly manners. They were
much gratified at having the right of adoption granted to their
families, and at being given substantial rewards in the shape of
extension of territory.
The Sikh Chiefs were followed by Rajas of minor importance, chiefly
from the neighbouring hills, whom the Viceroy had summoned in order to
thank them for assistance rendered during the Mutiny. Many of them had
grievances to be redressed; others had favours to ask; and the Viceroy
was able to more or less satisfy them by judiciously yielding to
reasonable demands, and by bestowing minor powers on those who were
likely to use them well. The wisdom of this policy of concession
on Lord Canning's part was proved in after years by its successful
results.
On the 29th January the Raja of Kapurthala came out to meet the
Viceroy one march from Jullundur. He had supplemented the valuable
assistance rendered to Colonel Lake in the early days of the Mutiny
by equipping and taking into Oudh a force of 2,000 men, which he
personally commanded in six different actions. The Viceroy cordially
thanked him for this timely service, and in recognition of it, and his
continued and conspicuous loyalty, bestowed upon him large estates in
Oudh, where he eventually became one of the chief Talukdars. This Raja
was the grandfather of the enlightened nobleman who came to England
three years ago.
After visiting Umritsar, gay with brilliant illuminations in honour
of the Viceroy, and crowded with Sikhs come to welcome the Queen's
representative to their sacred city, we arrived at Lahore on the 10th
February.
Early the following morning Lord Canning made his state entry. As we
approached the citadel the long line of mounted Chiefs drawn up to
receive the Viceroy came into view. A brilliant assemblage they
formed, Sikh Sirdars, stately Hill Rajputs, wildly picturesque
Multanis and Baluchis with their flowing locks floating behind them,
sturdy Tawanas from the Salt range, all gorgeously arrayed in every
colour of the rainbow, their jewels glittering in the morning sun,
while their horses, magnificently caparisoned in cloth-of-gold saddle
cloths, and gold and silver trappings, pranced and curvetted under
pressure of their severe bits. As the procession appeared in sight
they moved forward in one long dazzling cavalcade, each party of
Chiefs being headed by the Commissioner of the district from which
they came; they saluted as they approached the Viceroy, and then
passing him fell in behind, between the Body Guard and the Artillery
of the escort. A royal salute was fired from the fort as we passed
under the city walls; we then wound through the civil station of
Anárkáli, and on to camp where the garrison of Mian Mir, under the
command of Major-General Sir Charles Windham, was drawn up to receive
the Viceroy.
At nightfall there were illuminations and a procession of elephants;
the Viceroy, seated in a superb howdah, led the way through the
brilliantly lighted city. Suddenly a shower of rockets was discharged
which resulted in a stampede of the elephants, who rushed through the
narrow streets, and fled in every direction, to the imminent peril and
great discomfort of the riders. In time they were quieted and
brought back, only to become again unmanageable at a fresh volley of
fireworks; a second time they were pacified, and as they seemed to be
getting accustomed to the noise and lights, the procession proceeded
to the garden of the old palace. Here the elephants were drawn up,
when all at once a fresh discharge of rockets from every side drove
them mad with fright, and off they bolted under the trees, through
gates, and some of them could not be pulled up until they had gone far
into the country. Howdahs were crushed, hats torn off, but, strange to
say, there was only one serious casualty; an officer was swept out of
his howdah by the branch of a tree, and falling to the ground, had his
thigh broken. Lord Clyde declared that a general action was not half
so dangerous, and he would much sooner have been in one!
The Lahore durbar, at which the Punjab Chiefs were received, surpassed
any former ceremonials in point of numbers and splendour of effect.
Many of Runjit Singh's Sirdars were present, and many who had fought
against us in the Sutlej and Punjab campaigns, but had now become our
fast friends. The Chiefs quite spontaneously prepared and presented
Lord Canning with an address, and, in reply, his Excellency made
an eloquent and telling speech, commenting in terms of the highest
appreciation on the courage and loyalty displayed by the Nobles and
people of the Punjab during the Mutiny.
While the camp was marching to Sialkot, where the Maharaja of Kashmir
and some of the leading men of the Punjab were to be received, the
Viceroy, accompanied by Lady Canning, Lord Clyde, and a small staff,
went on a flying visit to Peshawar, with the object of satisfying
himself, by personal examination of our position there, as to the
advisability or otherwise of a retirement cis-Indus--a retrograde
movement which John Lawrence was still in favour of. The visit,
however, only served to strengthen Lord Canning in his preconceived
opinion that Peshawar must be held on to as our frontier station.
My wife remained at Mian Mir with our good friends Doctor and Mrs.
Tyrrell Ross until it was time for her to go to Simla, and the kind
thoughtfulness of Lord Canning, who told me the camp now worked so
well that my presence was not always necessary, enabled me to be with
her from time to time.
Lord Canning's tour was now nearly over, and we marched without any
halt of importance from Sialkot to Kalka at the foot of the hills,
where, on the 9th April, the camp was broken up. It was high time to
get into cooler regions, for the heat of the tents in the day had
become very oppressive.
Thus ended a six months' march of over a thousand miles--a march never
likely to be undertaken again by any other Viceroy of India, now that
railway trains run from Calcutta to Peshawar, and saloon carriages
have taken the place of big tents.
This progress through India had excellent results. The advantages of
the representative of the Sovereign meeting face to face the principal
feudatories and Chiefs of our great dependency were very considerable,
and the opportunity afforded to the Viceroy of personally
acknowledging and rewarding the services of those who had helped us,
and of showing that he was not afraid to be lenient to those who had
failed to do so, provided they should remain loyal in the future, had
a very good effect over the whole of India. The wise concessions also
announced at the different durbars as regards the adoption by Native
Rulers of successors to their estates, and the grant to Native
gentlemen of such a share as they were fitted for in the government
of the country, were undoubtedly more appreciated than any other
description of reward given for assistance in the Mutiny.
My duty with the Viceroy being ended, I returned to Mian Mir to fetch
my wife and the little daughter, who had made her appearance on the
10th March, and escort them both to Simla. The journey up the hill was
a tedious one. Carriages were not then used as they are now, and my
wife travelled in a _jampan_, a kind of open, half-reclining sedan
chair, carried by relays of four men, while I rode or walked by her
side. She had been greatly exhausted by the heat of the journey from
Mian Mir, but as we ascended higher and higher up the mountain side,
and the atmosphere became clearer and fresher, she began to revive.
Four hours, however, of this unaccustomed mode of travelling in her
weak state had completely tired her out, so on finding a fairly
comfortable bungalow at the end of the first stage, I decided to
remain there the next day. After that we went on, stage by stage,
until we reached Simla. Our house, 'Mount Pleasant,' was on the very
top of a hill; up and up we climbed through the rhododendron forest,
along a path crimson with the fallen blossom, till we got to the top,
when a glorious view opened out before our delighted eyes. The wooded
hills of Jakho and Elysium in the foreground, Mahasu and the beautiful
Shalli peaks in the middle distance, and beyond, towering above all,
the everlasting snows glistening in the morning sun, formed a picture
the beauty of which quite entranced us both. I could hardly persuade
my wife to leave it and come into the house. Hunger and fatigue,
however, at length triumphed. Our servants had arranged everything in
our little abode most comfortably; bright fires were burning in the
grates, a cosy breakfast was awaiting us, and the feeling that at last
we had a home of our own was very pleasant.
Lord Canning did not remain long at Simla. His Council in Calcutta was
about to lose its President, Sir James Outram, who was leaving India
on account of failing health; and as the suggestion to impose an
income-tax was creating a good deal of agitation, the Viceroy hurried
back to Calcutta, deeming it expedient to be on the spot.
The measures necessary for the suppression of the Mutiny had emptied
the Government coffers; and although a large loan had been raised,
the local authorities found it impossible to cope with the increased
expenditure. Lord Canning had, therefore, applied to the Government in
England for the services of a trained financier; and Mr. Wilson, who
had a great reputation in this respect, was sent out. He declared the
only remedy to be an income-tax, and he was supported in this view
by the merchants of Calcutta. Other Europeans, however, who were
intimately acquainted with India, pointed out that it was not
advisable to ignore the dislike of Natives to such direct taxation;
and Sir Charles Trevelyan, Governor of Madras, argued well and wisely
against the scheme. Instead, however, of confining his action in the
matter to warning and advising the supreme Government, he publicly
proclaimed his opposition, thus giving the signal for agitation to all
the malcontents in India. Lord Elphinstone, the Governor of Bombay,
followed Trevelyan's example, but in a less pronounced manner,
and these attacks from the minor Presidencies proved a serious
embarrassment to the action of the Government. In spite of all this
antagonism, the income-tax was passed, and Sir Charles Trevelyan's
unusual procedure led to his recall.
Lord Canning left Simla for his long and trying journey in May, about
the hottest time of the year. On my taking leave of him, he told
me that Sir Hugh Rose, then commanding the Bombay army, had been
appointed to succeed Lord Clyde, who had long been anxious to return
to England, and that Sir Hugh, though he intended to go to Calcutta
himself, wished the Head-Quarters of the Army to remain at Simla; a
question about which we had been rather anxious, as it would have been
an unpleasant breaking up of all our plans, had I been ordered to
Calcutta.
Life at Simla was somewhat monotonous. The society was not very large
in those days; but there were a certain number of people on leave
from the plains, who then, as at present, had nothing to do but amuse
themselves, consequently there was a good deal of gaiety in a small
way; but we entered into it very little. My wife did not care much
about it, and had been very ill for the greater part of the summer.
She had made two or three kind friends, and was very happy in her
mountain home, though at times, perhaps, a little lonely, as I had to
be in office the greater part of each day.
In the autumn we made a trip into the interior of the hills, beyond
Simla, which was a new and delightful experience for my wife. We
usually started in the morning, sending our servants on about half
way, when they prepared breakfast for us in some pretty, shady spot;
there we remained, reading, writing, or resting, until after lunch,
and it was time to move on, that we might get to our halting place for
the night before dinner.
It was a lovely time of the year, when the autumn tints made the
forest gorgeous, and the scarlet festoons of the Himalayan vine stood
out in brilliant contrast to the dark green of the solemn deodar,
amongst the branches of which it loves to twine itself.
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