1873-1877
A trip in the Himalayas--The famine in Behar
--The Prince of Wales in India--Farewell to Lord Napier
In the beginning of October my wife and I started for a fortnight's
trip to the top of the Chor, a fine mountain sixty-two miles from
Simla, and close on 12,000 feet high. We were accompanied by a very
dear friend of ours--now no more--Colonel Baigrie, who was soon
afterwards made Quartermaster-General in Bombay. He was a talented
artist and delightful companion, and notwithstanding the old adage
that two are company and three none, we three enjoyed our holiday
immensely.
After crossing a stream called the Ghiri, below Fagu, the road passes
through beautiful forest and cliff scenery, and for the most part was
fairly easy, until the foot of the mountain was reached about six
miles from the top, when it became very precipitous and difficult. We
were the whole day doing this march, breakfasting in one place and
lunching in another higher up. There was a good deal of snow in the
shady spots. A few days before we had noticed that the top of the
mountain was white, but the sun was still too strong in the daytime
for the snow to lie long in exposed parts. The way being too steep
for my wife to ride or go in a dandy, we all three walked, or rather
climbed, up to the shoulder where our tents were pitched, about a mile
from the summit.
The forest through which we passed was very beautiful, commencing with
dark-green ilex, glistening holly, and sombre brown oak, interspersed
with groups of the dainty, graceful, white-stemmed birch, and wreathed
with festoons of the scarlet Himalayan vine. As we mounted higher,
trees became fewer and the foliage less luxuriant, till at length only
oaks were to be seen, their branches twisted into all sorts of weird,
fantastic shapes from the strength of the south-west monsoon. Huge
rocks became more frequent, covered with lichens and mosses of every
shade, from dark-green to brilliant crimson. At length trees and
shrubs were left behind, except the red-berried juniper, which grows
at a higher elevation here than any other bush, and flourishes in the
clefts of the rocks, where nothing else will exist. We got up in time
to see the most glorious sunset; the colours were more wonderful than
anything I had ever seen before, even in India. My wife urged Baigrie
to make a rough sketch, and note the tints, that he might paint a
picture of it later. He made the sketch, saying: 'If I attempted to
represent truly what we see before us, the painting would be rejected
by the good people at home as absurdly unreal, or as the work of a
hopeless lunatic.' There was such a high wind that our small tents had
a narrow escape of being blown away. That night the water was frozen
in our jugs, and it was quite impossible to keep warm.
We were up betimes the next morning, and climbed to the highest peak,
where we found breakfast awaiting us and a magnificent view of the
Himalayan ranges, right down to the plains on one side and up to the
perpetual snows on the other. We descended to the foot of the mountain
in the afternoon, and then returned, march by march, to Simla.
Towards the end of the month Lord Napier began his winter tour,
visiting the hill stations first. At Chakrata I made the acquaintance
of the 92nd Highlanders, that distinguished corps which stood me
in such good stead a few years later in Afghanistan. At the end of
November we found ourselves at Lucknow, in time to take part in Lord
Northbrook's state entry, and be present at a fête given to the
Viceroy in the Wingfield Park by Sir George Cooper, the Chief
Commissioner.
From Lucknow we went for a brief visit to a small Camp of Exercise
near Rurki, where Lord Napier left the Adjutant-General, Thesiger,[1]
in command, while he himself proceeded to visit some of the stations
in the Madras Presidency, and I returned for a short time to Simla.
While riding up the hill from Kalka, I had a novel experience. One
of those tremendous thunder-storms which are not uncommon in the
Himalayas came on; the rain was blinding and incessant, and the peals
of thunder were simultaneous with the lightning. At last there was a
tremendous crash; a flash, more vivid than the rest, passed right
in front of my horse's head, accompanied by a whizzing noise and a
sulphurous smell, completely blinding me for a second. Two Natives
travelling a few yards ahead of me fell flat on their faces, and I
thought they were killed, but it turned out they were only knocked
over and very much frightened.
Early in January, 1874, we received by telegram the infinitely sad
news of my father's death. We ought, I suppose, to have been prepared
for such an event, seeing that he was within a few months of his
ninetieth birthday; but he was so well and active, and took such a
keen interest in all that was going on, especially anything connected
with India, that we hardly realized his great age, and always hoped we
might see him once more. He had received the G.C.B. from Her Majesty's
hands at Windsor on the 8th December, and two days afterwards he wrote
me an account of the ceremony, and expressed himself much pleased and
gratified at the Queen's gracious manner to him. He said nothing about
his health, but we heard later that he had taken cold in the train on
his way home, and never recovered from the effects; he died on the
30th of December. His love for India had not been weakened by his
twenty years' absence from the country, and he never wearied of
being told of the wonderful changes which had taken place since his
day--changes which, for the most part, dated from the Mutiny, for up
till 1857 life in India was much the same as when my father first
landed in the beginning of the century.
A continued drought in Behar was at this time causing grave fears of
a famine, such as from time to time had desolated various parts of
India. Nine years before such a drought, and the absence of means
of communication, which prevented grain being thrown into the
famine-stricken districts in sufficient quantities, resulted
in one-fourth of the population of Orissa being carried off by
starvation, or disease consequent on starvation. So on this occasion
Lord Northbrook was determined, at all costs, to ward off such a
calamity. He sent Sir Richard Temple to Behar in the confident hope
that his unbounded resource and energy would enable him to cope with
the difficulties of the situation, a hope that was fully realized.
Relief works were at once commenced; a transport train was quickly
improvised, worked chiefly by military and police officers; and one
million tons of rice were distributed amongst the people. Not a life
was lost, but the cost to the State was enormous--six millions and a
half sterling.
In the beginning of February I was ordered by Government to proceed to
the famine districts to help Temple. I started at once; but I had
not been long in Behar before I was required to join the
Commander-in-Chief in Calcutta, His Excellency having determined to
nominate me Quartermaster-General, in succession to Johnson, who was
about to become Adjutant-General. Being only a Lieutenant-Colonel
in the army, I could not, according to the rules, be put at once
permanently into the appointment, which carried with it the rank of
Major-General. The difficulty was overcome, however, by my being
allowed to officiate till the following January, when, in the ordinary
course of promotion, I should become a Colonel.
Lord Northbrook spent the summer of 1874 in Calcutta, in
consequence of the famine necessities having to be met; and as the
Commander-in-Chief determined to follow his example, I took a house in
Calcutta, and my wife joined me in the middle of March--rather a bad
time of year to come down to the plains after spending the winter
amongst the snows of Simla. But she did not fancy Simla in the season
as a grass-widow, and had had quite enough of being alone.
We continued in Calcutta until August, when the Head-Quarters returned
to Simla, where we remained till November.
We had a standing camp at Umballa during the winter of 1874-75, doing
our inspections from there, and returning to the camp at intervals.
There was the usual visit to Calcutta in March, towards the end of
which month another daughter was born.
In October, 1875, I spent some time at Delhi, arranging for the Camp
of Exercise to be held there in January for His Royal Highness the
Prince of Wales. The camp was formed in the beginning of December,
and consisted of 17,000 men, in four divisions, commanded by
Major-Generals Sir Charles Reid, Macdonnell, the Hon. Arthur Hardinge,
and Donald Stewart.
The country round Delhi is particularly well suited for extended
manoeuvres, and full advantage was taken of the facilities it afforded
during the two months the Camp of Exercise lasted. The Prince of Wales
landed at Calcutta on the 23rd December; and Lord Napier with his
staff went down to meet His Royal Highness, whose reception was loyal
and hearty to a degree. As the _Serapis_, with the Prince on board,
steamed slowly up the Hughli, salutes were fired from Fort William and
three ships of the Royal Navy. All the vessels in the river were gay
with flags, their yards were manned, and good hearty English cheers
resounded from stem to stern of each ship as the Indian troopship,
carrying the heir to England's throne, came in sight. As soon as the
_Serapis_ was moored, the Viceroy went on board to greet the Prince
and conduct His Royal Highness to the gaily-decorated landing-stage,
where the principal officials, Native Princes, and chief inhabitants
of Calcutta were assembled. Troops lined the road from the river to
Government House, and the _maidan_ (the great open space in front) was
thronged with a dense crowd of Natives in their most brilliant gala
attire, eager to catch a glimpse of the son of the great Queen of
England.
That evening Lord Northbrook gave a State banquet. The next day there
was a reception of the Princes and Chiefs, followed by a levée, and
after dark the whole place was most beautifully illuminated. The
week that followed was taken up with entertainments of various
kinds--balls, races, and garden-parties, interspersed with official
visits--which I am afraid the Prince could not have found amusing--and
on New Year's Day, 1876, His Royal Highness held a Chapter of the
Order of the Star of India, after which the Commander-in-Chief
returned to Delhi to arrange to receive the Prince in that historical
city on the 11th January.
His Royal Highness's camp, and that of the Commander-in-Chief, were
pitched on the ground occupied by the British army during the siege.
The road, five miles in length, from the station to the camp was lined
with troops, and on the Ridge itself were placed six Rifle corps,
three of which had taken part in the siege.[2] The 2nd Gurkhas were
very appropriately drawn up immediately under Hindu Rao's house,
and when this point was reached, the Prince stopped and warmly
complimented the men on the distinguished service the regiment had
performed.
The next day there was a parade of all the troops in review order for
the inspection of the Prince, who was pleased to express his complete
satisfaction and approval of 'the steadiness under arms, soldier-like
bearing, and precision of movement, which distinguish the corps of the
three armies assembled at the camp at Delhi.'
That evening the Prince was present at a ball in the _diwan-i-khas_
(private audience hall) in the palace, given in His Royal Highness's
honour by the officers of the army.
The next few days were taken up with manoeuvres, which the Prince
attended, accompanied by Lumsden[3] and myself. The defence was
commanded by Reid, the attack by Hardinge, the latter's object being
to gain possession of the Ridge, with a view to future operations
against the city on the arrival of the main army from the Punjab. But
the attack did not meet with the success which attended Barnard in
1857, while the Commander of the defence proved himself as skilful in
protecting the Ridge against an enemy advancing from the north as
he had been, twenty years before, in repulsing one coming from the
opposite direction.
The Prince of Wales held another investiture of the Star of India
on the 7th of March at Allahabad, which Lord Napier and the staff
attended. At its close we took our leave of His Royal Highness, who
started that night for England.
In less than a fortnight our dear old Chief followed, and I saw him
off from Bombay on the 10th April. I was very low at parting with him,
for though in the earlier days of our acquaintance I used to think
he was not very favourably disposed towards me, when I became more
intimately associated with him nothing could exceed his kindness. He
was universally regretted by Europeans and Natives alike. The soldiers
recognized that he had carefully guarded their interests and worked
for their welfare, and the Native Princes and people felt that he
was in sympathy with them, and to this day they speak of _Lat Napier
Sahib_ with the deepest respect and affection.
Lord Napier was succeeded in the command by Sir Frederick Haines.
[Footnote 1: Now General Lord Chelmsford, G.C.B.]
[Footnote 2: 60th Rifles, 2nd Gurkhas, and 1st Punjab Infantry.]
[Footnote 3: Lumsden returned to Head-Quarters as Adjutant-General
on Edwin Johnson being appointed a member of the Indian Council in
London.]
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