20, Earl's Court Square, South Kensington, London,
October 20th, 1889.
* * * * *
_Extract from_ "THE DELHI GAZETTE," _August 19th_, 1889.
A LIFE OF PROMISE ABRUPTLY ENDED.--It was with feelings of deep sorrow
that we read in _The Pioneer_ of Friday last the death notice of Mr.
William McNair, the Kafiristan explorer. A man singularly frank and
genial, he was 33 years of age when he undertook the venture that won
for him the medal and fellowship of the Royal Geographical Society
which were conferred in 1884. In that year he had the satisfaction of
lecturing before British audiences on the results of his travels, and
as it was the first time he had visited the land of his fathers the
pleasure of seeing the old country under circumstances so honourable to
himself was doubly keen.
The story of his adventures may be briefly told. Every one knows that
the Government of India issued strict injunctions against allowing any
European to cross the Afghan frontier. Nevertheless that restless
spirit Sir Charles McGregor, Quartermaster-General, was naturally
anxious to know something of the debateable land that lies north of the
Kabul river and south of the Hindoo Koosh, and which tradition alleges
to have been colonised by the soldiers of the Great Alexander himself.
We have no doubt, that McGregor prompted the enterprise, though McNair
never distinctly said that he had been urged by so high an officer to
break the orders of his official superiors. The affair was arranged in
this way. McNair took furlough, and ceased for the moment to be a
servant of Government. He disappeared across the frontier and was not
heard of again till his safe return was assured. Of course he had
confederates; one in particular, a tribal chief whose friendship he had
secured in the Afghan campaigns of 1878-79. His disguise was, however,
pretty complete, walnut juice being, we believe, the material that
converted a florid complexion into the tan so natural to Afghan
mountaineers. He had the wisdom to confine his words to a language he
understood as well as English, viz., Urdu, and posed as a _Hukeem_ from
India impelled by a spirit of benevolence to visit unknown lands for
the sake of caring the ailments of his fellew creatures. Had he
attempted to talk Pushtoo, his foreign intonation would have been
detected, while his knowledge of that tongue enabled him to detect the
drift of any conversation that was carried on in his presence. Once, we
believe, he was in imminent danger, a proposal having been set on foot
to put an end to the wanderings of the _Hukeem_, as an English spy. A
rapid change of quarters averted the danger, and he afterwards fell in
with the people he came to see, viz., the Kafirs, who whether,
descending from Alexander's Greeks or not, received him kindly. We
believe the _Hukeem_ was aided in his researches by a big book supposed
to contain medical receipts, but which was in reality a box of
surveying instruments, its outside covered with cabalistic signs
bearing a family resemblance to a plane-table! The _Hukeem_ was much
given to solitary meditation, and generally sought mountain peaks for
that purpose. On such occasions the plane-table afforded him invaluable
assistance.
But we have said almost enough of poor McNair's adventure. On his
return he was ordered to Simla and officially reprimanded by the
Viceroy, Lord Ripon, for disobedience of orders! He was consoled,
however, by being told by the same nobleman at a private interview that
his pluck was admired, while his fast friend, Sir Charles McGregor,
received him with open arms. Such was the bright opening of a career
that was so soon to be cut short at Mussooree by typhoid fever.
McNair was a favourite with both sexes. By the men he was adored on the
cricket-field, where his bowling was most effective, while the girls,
who always possess second sight in the way of detecting a good fellow
when they see him, loved him _en masse_. It may be some consolation to
the widowed mother now robbed of her darling boy, to know that there
are heavy hearts in other homes besides her own--the purest tribute
that can be laid on the grave of one who was a good son as well as a
gallant explorer.
We note that the fever of which he died was contracted at Quetta.
_Extract from_ "The Pioneer," _August 20th,_ 1889.
THE LATE MR. McNAIR.--The lives of some men are so intimately connected
with certain phases in the general development of knowledge that their
biographies afford short but useful pages in the history of progress
which may well be read in connection with more stirring national
records. Thus it was with the life of a man who quietly passed from the
subordinate branch of the Survey Department into the land of shadows on
the 13th of this month at Mussoorie. At the commencement of the year of
grace 1879, a little over ten years ago, we were groping our way across
the borderland which separates India from Turkistan, in unhappy
ignorance of all but two or three partially illustrated lines of
advance which might land us either at Kabul or Kandahar. Considering
the vital importance that it always has been to India that at least a
creditable knowledge of the countries separating her from Russia should
exist, the geographical mist which enveloped the highlands of
Afghanistan and the deserts of Baluchistan in 1879 was certainly
remarkable. It is true that the war of 1839-43 had brought to the front
one or two notable geographers, amongst whom North, Broadfoot, and
Durand were conspicuous, but it had also developed a host of inferior
artists, whose hazy outlines and indefinite sketches tended most
seriously to obscure the really trustworthy work of better men. More, a
good deal, was known about Kandahar and Kabul than of our present
frontier opposite Dera Ismail, or of the passes leading from Bannu
across the border only a few miles distant. Indeed, so far as that
frontier was concerned, from Peshawar to Sind, no military knowledge of
it existed whatever. It is with the gradual evolution of light over
these dark places that McNair's name is so closely associated. For many
years previous to the Afghan war he had been making himself thoroughly
acquainted with modern survey instruments of precision, which are to
the scientific weapons of our forefathers of fifty years ago what the
Gatling and Henry-Martini are to the old Brown Bess. He was one of the
first to grasp the true principles of using the plane-table when rapid
action is necessary, and right well he turned his knowledge to account.
It was the advance on Kabul in 1879 that first introduced him to the
notice of military authorities, and in the course of that year's
campaign he had added more to our map information than all the
geographers of the "old" Afghan war put together.
Some of his exploits were remarkable, as for instance when he explored
the Adrak Badrak pass leading from the Lughman valley to Jugdalak with
no military escort whatever, trusting only to the tender mercies of an
"aboriginal" guard. He thus made himself acquainted with every detail
of the direct road from Kabul, _viâ_ the Kabul river, to Jalalabad; and
with him our practical acquaintance with that important route has
passed away. No sooner had he left Afghanistan than he was attached to
the frontier party then working in the Kohat district; there he was
Major Holdich's right-hand man. If there was a specially hard frontier
nut to be cracked, McNair's powers of assimilating himself to Pathan
manners, and of winning the confidence of all classes of natives, which
had already carried him through many a perilous undertaking, were most
fully utilised for the purpose of cracking it. From Kohat to Dera
Ismail he was incessantly engaged in quiet little unobtrusive
excursions (with full political sanction _bien entendu_) which resulted
in a very complete map of the border, a map which it will be hard to
supersede. There is one particularly awkward corner of our
frontier--awkward from a military as well as geographical point of
view--which thrusts itself forward over the general line into British
territory, and which can never fail to attract the attention of the
frontier traveller. This is the rocky fastness of Kafir Koh. From red
salt hills south of Bahadur Khel the three-headed peak of Kafir Koh is
seen standing up like a monument in the southern distance: nor is it
less a conspicuous feature when viewed to the north from the Bannu
road. At the back of it, to the west, is the direct road connecting the
upper Meranzai valley with the Bannu district, of which the existence
was known, but not the nature, when McNair took it in hand. Up the
sheer face of that square-cut peak, composed chiefly of shifting sand
and pebbles, which overtops the rest, McNair did his best to climb. He
did not succeed for the reason that no living thing without wings has
probably ever succeeded in surmounting it, although there is a legend
to the effect that a specially active Waziri robber did once contrive
to reach the top--and there remained to starve; but the English
explorer at least got far up enough to obtain the clear view he
required, and he came back richer in wisdom to the extent of many
square miles of most remarkable mapping. His name soon became well
known on the border, especially amongst the Waziris, and so much did
they appreciate his own appreciation of themselves, that there is a
story current that one well-known Mahsud chieftain stopped a Punjab
Cavalry detachment near the border line and demanded a passport order
from McNair. Perhaps his best achievement about this part of his career
was the mapping of all the approaches to, and the general features of
the lower Tochi valley.
In 1883 he conceived the bold scheme of taking leave and exploring
Kaffiristan in disguise, trusting to the good fellowship of certain
Pathan friends, amongst whom two members of the Kakur Khel were chief.
It was a bold scheme for many reasons. The physical difficulties of the
project were many. The impossibility of keeping up a continuous
disguise was well known to him, and last, but not least, "What would
Government say?" For fear of involving others in any venture of his
own, he resolved to cut himself adrift from his department for the time
being and take his chance. In order to appreciate properly the spirit
of enterprise which animated the man, critics of his actions should put
themselves in his place. He was well aware that the information which
he could obtain would be of the highest value; further, he knew that
probably there was not another man in India who could obtain it as
successfully as himself, and he judged that some slight exception might
be made in his favour if he took on himself the responsibility of
accepting a most favourable opportunity of doing most valuable work at
the expense of infringing certain rules about crossing the border.
These rules were, to say the least, vague and indefinite, and had never
been officially promulgated. Reward or recognition of service he
rightly never expected. It must fairly be conceded that the conditions
under which such a spirit of enterprise was shown made that spirit
especially honourable--for the Government of India has never been in a
position to encourage any such ventures. On the contrary, the possible
gain in information has always been held to be more than
counterbalanced by the chance of "complications." Lord Lytton, ever
ready to bewail the decadence of a soldierly spirit of enterprise
amongst our officers, was yet never quite able to see his way to making
such enterprise possible to a man who valued his commission. Lord
Ripon, under whose rule indeed more geographical work was completed
than under any previous Viceroy, was apt to regard the line of frontier
peaks and passes much as a careful gardener regards a row of
beehives--as subjects of tender treatment and watchful care: whilst
Lord Dufferin has lately with one wide sweep removed the great
incentment to all exploration enterprise by making the results thereof
"strictly confidential." These are cloudy conditions under which to
grow a true spirit of enterprise, and where it here and there crops up
and flourishes in spite of circumstances it is surely all the more to
be commended.
The story of McNair's journey to Kaffiristan need not be told here. It
was not made strictly confidential in those days, and it will be found
in the chronicles of the Royal Geographical Society. For this
performance he obtained the Murchison grant of the Society, and on the
strength of it he may be said to have taken his place amongst the first
geographers of the day. His frontier work did not end here. For the
last two years he was engaged on the most trying work of carrying a
"first class" triangulation series from the Indus at Dera Ghazi Khan,
across the intervening mountain masses, to Quetta, thence to be
extended to the Khojak, a work which involved continuous strain of
mountain climbing, of residence with insufficient cover in intensely
cold and high elevated spots, and the unending worry of keeping up the
necessary supplies both of food and water for his party. No doubt it
tried his constitution severely, and a hot weather at Quetta is,
unfortunately, not calculated to restore an impaired constitution.
Although very ill he determined to leave Quetta when his leave became
due, and he made his way with difficulty to Mussoorie to die amongst
his own people.
McNair belonged to a department which is not great in distinctions and
decorations, and is connected with no celestial brotherhood. Indeed, it
has no dealings with stars but such as are of God's own making--and he
belonged to what by grace of official courtesy is called the
"subordinate" branch. Out of it he never rose, though had he lived on
the Russian side of the border his career might well have brought him
high military rank and decorations in strings across his uniform. They
say that decorations are "cheap" there. Yet it should be remembered
that zeal, industry, enterprise, and patriotism are "cheap," too, if
they are to be won by them. Perhaps we manage better. The good old
copybook maxim, "Virtue is its own reward," must be McNair's epitaph,
whilst we cannot help feeling that India could have better spared many
a "bigger" man.
_Extract from_ "THE STATESMAN," _August 27th_, 1889.
By the death of Mr. McNair, of the Survey Department, a most valuable
officer has been lost to the Government of India, and a contributor to
our geographical knowledge of Afghanistan. It is difficult to estimate
the value of his services, as they have never been brought prominently
into notice like those of others who have lived in the sunshine of
official favour. We believe that, as in many similar cases, the public
record of his work was nothing to what he really did in the service of
geography, without any official publicity or recognition of the fact
whatever. From what we know of his life's work, we can gather
information that is amply sufficient to entitle Mr. McNair to being
placed in the front rank of geographers, in respect, as a contemporary
remarks, of that "borderland which separates India from Turkestan," It
is said of Mr. McNair, that in the course of the Afghan campaign in
1879, he added more to the sum of our knowledge of Afghanistan than all
the geographers of the "old" Afghan war put together, while some of his
exploits in surmounting what appeared to be absolutely insuperable
difficulties, make him take rank with the great geographers of his day.
His work in the Kohat district was especially valuable, although it
never, we believe, received the official recognition it deserved.
Thanks to his excursions and observations, we have, as the _Pioneer_
justly observes, a complete map of the border, a map which it will be
hard to supersede. His journey to Kaffirstan resulted in some valuable
contributions to our knowledge of that region, but the conditions of
Government service unfortunately prevented his receiving the reward,
which he would have secured as a matter of course, had he been the
servant of a power more quick and more liberal in its recognition of
merit. As the _Pioneer_ happily remarks, "Mr. McNair belonged to a
department which is not great in distinctions and decorations, and is
connected with no celestial brotherhood. Indeed, it has no dealings
with stars, but such as are of God's own making--and he belonged to
what by grace of official courtesy is called the 'subordinate' branch.
Out of it he never rose, though had he lived on the Russian side of the
border, his career might well have brought him high military rank, and
decorations in strings across his uniform." By his death, India loses a
valuable public servant, and that loss, we venture to say, will be more
deeply felt should complications arise on the frontier, when the
knowledge, experience, and ability of men like Mr. McNair will be the
primary condition of success in any operations in that quarter. We do
not know whether we should regret of any man that he did hot receive
the full meed of the success achieved by him in his life career amongst
his fellows. Certain it is that it is but deferred to the general audit
of every man's claims, for the hard and thorough work he has done to
the generation from which he has passed away, but to which and to its
successors he has left an example for them to emulate, and if they
can--surpass.
_Extract from_ "THE TIMES," _10th September_, 1889.
The Indian mail brings intelligence of the death of Mr. William Watts
McNair, of the Indian Survey. In 1883 Mr. McNair, disguised as a
Mahomedan doctor, succeeded in reaching the outlying valleys of
Kafiristan, travelling by way of the Swat Valley and Chitral. For this
adventurous journey, in the course of which he obtained much valuable
information regarding the passes of the Hindoo Khoosh and about the
manners and customs of the Sirjah Push Kafirs, the Royal Geographical
Society awarded the Murchison Grant. Mr. M'Nair, in whom the Indian
Government has lost an able and zealous servant, died at Mussoorie on
August 13 of fever contracted at Quetta.
_Extract from_ "UNITED SERVICES GAZETTE," _19th October, 1889._
Mr. W.W. McNair.--The death is announced of Mr. McNair, a distinguished
member of the Indian Survey, who expired at Mussoree of typhoid fever.
He had been twenty-two years in the Survey Department, and had rendered
signal service, especially during the Afghan War of 1878-79. In the
disguise of a native doctor he made a journey into Kafiristan in 1883,
and this achievement gained for him the Murchison Grant of the Royal
Geographical Society. This expedition was, up to the time,
unparalleled. Mr. McNair ascended to the Dora Pass over the Hindoo
Khoosh Mountains, which he found to be over 14,000 feet high, but with
an easy ascent, quite practicable for laden animals.
_Extract from Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society for
October, 1889._
Obituary.
W.W. McNAIR.--We are sorry to have to record the death of this
distinguished member of the Indian Survey, who has died at Mussooree of
typhoid fever. He had been twenty-two years in the Survey Department,
and had done good service, particularly during the Afghan war of
1878-79, when his work lay along the valley of the Kabul river, and
during the last two years, in which he has been extending a series of
triangles from the British frontier at Dera, Ghazi Khan, by the direct
route across the Suliman Mountains to Quetta and the Khojak Amran. But
his most conspicuous piece of work was his journey (in the disguise of
a native doctor) into Kafiristan in 1883, an achievement which gained
for him the Murchison Grant of the Royal Geographical Society, and
which stands quite alone, as unless Russian explorers have recently
succeeded in entering the country, there is no record of any other
European ever having done so. Major Biddulph had visited Chitral, but
Mr. McNair had not only reached that town by way of the Swat river and
Dir, but crossed the mountains to the west, which divide the valley of
the Kashkar or Chitral river from that of the Arnawai. He reported that
he was kindly received by the villagers of the Lut-dih district, who
belong to the Bashgal tribe of Kafirs. The valley is important, for
along it there runs a direct and comparatively easy route from
Badakshan to Jelalabad. No doubt he would have explored the country
more fully, but owing to the conduct of a native, who maliciously
spread about the report of his being a British spy, Mr. McNair was
forced to abandon further attempts. He ascended, however, to the Dora
Pass over the Hindu Kush Mountains, which he found to be a little over
14,000 feet in height, with an easy ascent, quite practicable for laden
animals. This pass had been previously explored by the "Havildar" on
his return journey to India in 1870-71. Mr. McNair returned by way of
Mastuj, Yasin, Gilghit, and Srinagar. The account of his adventurous
and important journey was read by him before the Royal Geographical
Seciety on the 10th December, 1883, but official permission to publish
the map could not be obtained.
_From the "Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society," November,_
1889.
Obituary.
The late Mr. W.W. McNair.--Colonel T. H. Holdich, R.E., sends us from
India the following additional details regarding the career of Mr.
McNair, briefly noticed in our last issue:--Amongst the many practical
geographers who have passed away during the year 1889 is Mr. W. McNair,
of the Indian Survey Department. His career was very closely connected
with a new phase of military exploration carried out on the frontier of
India, which had gradually superseded the older forms of
reconnaissance, and was rendered possible by late improvements in the
smaller classes of instruments, and a wider knowledge of the use of the
plane-table. For about ten years previous to the Afghan War of 1879,
McNair was attached to the topographical branch of the Indian Survey,
and he had always shown a special aptitude for that class of work,
which consists in acquiring a comprehensive grasp of a wide field of
geographical detail in the shortest possible space of time. When war
broke out, Afghanistan no longer afforded a field for such simple
geographical exploration as had already been accomplished during the
campaign of 1839-43. A completer military survey of all important
districts was required, which would furnish detailed information of
routes and passes which were far removed from the beaten tracks of
previous armies. At the same time the conditions under which such a
survey was to be made were exactly the same as those under which the
rough reconnaissances of the former campaign were obtained. The
surveyor was under the same urgent restrictions, both as to time and as
to the limits of his own movements off the direct line of march.
McNair, with one or two others, was selected for this topographical
duty with the Afghan field force, and right good use he made of his
opportunities. He was present during the fighting which took place
before Kabul in the winter of 1879-80, and was shut up with the
garrison of Sherpur during the fortnight's siege. His energy and
determination carried him through the campaign with more than
credit--he was able to illustrate modern methods of field topography in
a manner which threw new light on what was then but a tentative and
undeveloped system. He was one of the first to prove the full value of
the plane-table in such work as this, for it must be remembered that he
was working in a country peculiarly favourable to the application of a
system of graphic triangulation, and very different to the densely
forest-clad mountains of the eastern frontier into which the
plane-table had been carried before, with advancing brigades. At the
close of the war, which brought no recognition of his exceptional
services, he was appointed to the Kohát survey party, which was
primarily raised for the mapping of the Kohát district, but which
afforded occasional opportunities for extending topography across the
border. When this party was first raised our frontier maps were of the
most elementary character; there was many a wide blank in the
topography of the lower borderland, and geographical darkness shrouded
nearly the whole line of frontier mountains. The hostility of the
border people had always been such that it was a matter of considerable
risk to approach them, but the temper of the tribes was then rapidly
changing with the times, and McNair rapidly succeeded in establishing
himself on a friendly footing with frontier robber chiefs, whose
assistance was invaluable in arranging short excursions across the
line, by means of which he was able to complete a fairly accurate map
of most of the border country. No work that ever he accomplished has
been of more value to the Government of India than this unobtrusive
frontier mapping. It was whilst he was thus occupied between Peshawur
and Dera Ismail Khan that he made the acquaintance of certain
influential men of the Kaken Khel, who offered to see him safely
through the dangerous districts outlying Kaffirstan, and give him the
opportunity of being the first European to set his foot in that land of
romance. The snow-capped summits of some of the more southerly peaks of
Kaffirstan had been seen and fixed by McNair during the progress of the
Afghan campaign, and it had ever been a dream with him to reach those
mighty spurs, and torn those peaks to account by using them as the
basis of a topographical map of the country. He did reach them, as the
records of the R.G.S. sufficiently show, and he may fairly claim to be
the first Englishman to lift even a corner of the veil of mystery which
has ever shrouded that inaccessible country so far as its topographical
conformation is concerned. This excursion won for him the Murchison
Grant of the Society, and established his position as a leading
practical geographer. For the last few years of his life he has been
almost incessantly occupied in the rough work of frontier surveying,
which his knowledge of frontier people and power of winning their
confidence and help especially fitted him to undertake. At the time of
his death he was employed in the Baluchistan Survey party in the
completion of a triangulation series which should carry the great
Indian system to the Kojak range, and furnish a scientific and highly
accurate base for future extension into Afghanistan. This was a duty
which severely taxed even his vigorous constitution. It involved
incessant labour in examining lofty mountain peaks in order to select
suitable sites for stations, and subsequently days and nights of
anxious watching during the progress of the observations, whilst food
and water (when snow was not lying on the ground) were scarce, and
mists and clouds hung round the mountains. No doubt it tried him hard,
and when typhoid attacked him at Quetta he seemed unable to make a good
fight for his life. He was able, however, to reach Mussoorie, where he
died on the 13th August, leaving a gap in the Department which he
served so well which it will be exceedingly hard to fill.