Marriages of my Sister Emilia and my Brother William—We leave Speyside
and settle in Perthshire—My Visits to Skye and India.
On 1st January 1867 the family assembled at Cantray, a few miles from
Nairn, for the marriage of my youngest half-sister, Emilia, aged
eighteen, to Warden Sergison of the 4th Hussars, and of Cuckfield Park,
in Sussex. As the whole country lay deep in snow, it was deemed wisest
to have the service in the drawing-room, Bishop Eden[52] officiating.
Notwithstanding the snow, people assembled from far and near, and it was
a very pretty wedding.
One such ceremony is said often to lead to another, and so it proved in
this case, for among the guests was a handsome girl, who proved as good
as she was bonnie—Alexa Angelica Harvey Brand. To her my brother William
promptly lost his heart, as well he might, and in the early summer they
were married from her home near London. Angelica by name, she proved a
true angel in her husband’s family, and the home which they made for
themselves at Auchintoul, in Banffshire, was for twenty years the
gathering-point where we could all meet, ever sure of a loving welcome.
Early in this year occurred an unhappy incident in our family annals.
One of George Grant’s brother officers in the 42nd, on leaving the army,
had started on the Stock Exchange, on which, as in other matters, a
little knowledge has so often proved dangerous indeed. With the kindest
intentions he initiated some of his late comrades into the mysteries of
many “good things”—a most literal case of the blind leading the blind,
with the usual sad results.
Dear George, ever the blithest and most sanguine of human beings, soon
found himself beyond his depth, and hoping against hope, was led on to
new ventures, till forced to realise that, instead of doubling his
capital, he had lost all, and must give up the sweet home on Speyside,
on which he and my sister had expended so much loving care.
So on a very sad day in May we all bade farewell to that lovely spot and
came south to Perthshire, halting for a week at Farleyer, where, as
usual, we were one and all received with the heartiest and tenderest
welcome by Sir Robert Menzies and his lovely and most lovable wife.
It was they who had suggested the then almost unknown and quite ideal
village of Comrie as a desirable spot to establish a new home on a tiny
scale. So a beautiful drive through the mountains from Aberfeldy to
Comrie brought us to “Rosebank,” into which it took some skill to pack
the five children, their ever-faithful nurse, Catherine Bruce, and her
good old Highland mother, and yet to contrive a room to be my
headquarters. There George and Nell bravely “buckled to,” and themselves
carried on all the drudgery of regular lessons, and well they both stuck
to this uncongenial work.
Their difficulties were greatly lightened by the exceeding kindness of
all their neighbours, Sir David and Lady Lucy Dundas, at beautiful
Duneira, the Williamsons of Lawers, the Graham-Stirlings of Strowan, the
Dewhursts at Abruchill, Sir Patrick Keith-Murray of Ochtertyre, and, in
short, every one within hail.
That little nest in such beautiful surroundings was my sister’s home for
two years, when it became possible to move to a somewhat roomier villa
in Crieff, which, with the excellent talent for adaptation to
circumstances which characterises most of our race, she transformed into
a pretty and very happy little home, in which her five children grew up,
well loved by all their neighbours, rich and poor. Here the social
circle was enlarged by many kind and pleasant friends further down the
Strath, Lady Anne Drummond Moray at Abercairny, fine old Lady Willoughby
D’Eresby at beautiful Drummond Castle, the Spiers of Culdees, Murrays of
Dotherie, Thompsons of Balgowan, Maxtone-Grahams of Cultoquhey, and
others.
But the consciousness that his imprudence had wrought so much trouble
weighed heavily on George’s naturally buoyant spirits, and undermined
his health, and in May 1873 he very suddenly passed away. My sister
continued bravely to fight life’s battle till, in April 1889, she too
passed from earth to dwell for ever with the Friend on whose loving
guidance and wise over-ruling of all seeming evil she so implicitly
relied. Now all that was mortal of that faithful pair rests beneath a
tall Celtic Cross of grey granite in the peaceful “God’s-acre” at
Ochtertyre, within Sir Patrick Keith Murray’s beautiful park, and by him
presented for the use of the episcopal congregation of Crieff.
Their eldest daughter, Alice, was already engaged to Lord Walter Gordon
Lennox, and ere long the second, Muriel, married Geoffrey St. Quintin,
younger of Scampston, in Yorkshire, while their three brothers settled
in London. Of these, William Ogilvie-Grant found most congenial
occupation in charge of the admirable bird department in the Museum of
Natural History in South Kensington, and has contributed many valuable
papers to the publications of that Society.
To return to 1867, soon after we had settled at Comrie, I went to London
for my brother Bill’s marriage to Alexa Brand; thence to old friends at
York, where the 4th Hussars were then quartered, and my half-sister
Janie and her brother Fred were staying with our young couple, the
Sergisons. Then a week at beautiful Chillingham Castle, and two months
at Cresswell, after which, back to Comrie, where the surroundings
offered so many fascinating subjects for sketching.
In the spring of 1868, I paid a long visit to Lady Emma Campbell in
Edinburgh, and then to Lady Lucy Dundas at Beechwood, where my
half-brother Fred joined me, and we started together to spend his Easter
vacation in the Mull of Cantyre beside the grand waves of Machrihanish
Bay, which lies just below Losset, the pleasant home of our cousins, the
Macneals of Ugadale.
After three delightful weeks there, we started to spend ten days in the
Isle of Skye with the Frasers of Kilmuir. There Fred very nearly ended
his career, for as I was quietly sitting sketching the Falls of the Rah,
and he scrambling about the rocks overhead, he missed his footing, and I
saw him flash past me and disappear into a dark pool. Mercifully the
little river was so full that he did not strike his head on the rocks,
and managed to scramble out with only a bruised knee, which did not
hinder his return to London, though he was lame for six weeks. He lived
to do good work in the army, and died a soldier’s death in the Burmese
war.[53]
As for me, I willingly yielded to most hospitable invitations to linger
amid such delightful sketching-ground, and to accompany my hosts on
fascinating cruises round Skye and further isles in their little yacht,
afterwards finding sketching-quarters for myself in a farm at the foot
of the wonderful Quirang rocks, and then at Sligachan, right under the
shadow of the grand Cuchullin mountains, watching the earliest rosy dawn
and the last gleam of moonlight on those wonderful peaks.
From Sligachan I made fully half-a-dozen expeditions to sketch dark Loch
Coruisk and the green sea-loch Scavaig, each expedition involving fully
twelve hours of hard toil, always accompanied by Alfred Hunt, the
artist—most delicate interpreter of mountains and mists, and a
thoroughly congenial spirit.
Thus month after month slipped by all too quickly, till October found me
once again at Glen Morriston, and then at Inchnacardoch, both on Loch
Ness. While there, a letter reached me from Mrs. Sergison, _i.e._ my
young half-sister, who (a mother ere she was nineteen) had accompanied
her husband and his regiment to India. Now, having succeeded to the
family estates, Warden proposed leaving the army, but first having a
year in India to see something of the country and of the Himalayas.
They wrote to propose that I should join them for this delightful year,
and that an English nurse, whom they had engaged to come out immediately
and take care of little Charlie, should act as my lady’s-maid on the
voyage.
On first reading a proposal so startling, it seemed simply ridiculous.
For in those days such travel was still very expensive, and no one
dreamt of going to India unless they were obliged to do so. In fact, in
whatever part of India I found myself, I was invariably told that I was
the very first lady who had gone out except as wife or sister of some
official, more or less under compulsion. So that I really have been the
pioneer of the multitude of women who now run to and fro throughout the
earth! I am glad I had first innings!
So my first impulse was to decline. Had I done so, the twelve years of
enchanting travel which followed would never have been dreamt of, for
link by link that pleasant chain wove itself—as the old saying is, “_Qui
à voyagé voyagera!_” Happily I had a few hours of quiet sketching beside
Loch Ness before post-time, and new lights gleamed on the subject, so
when I went back to the house it was to write to secure my passage, and
to inquire about the best paints, paper, and waterproof clothing for the
tropics—all of which, and perhaps especially the latter, proved precious
companions.
Then, bidding adieu to all the kind friends on Loch Ness, I started on a
rapid succession of visits, first to my brother Bill and his bride at
Rose Valley, their temporary home near Cantray. Then to my brother Henry
and Bessie in their dainty little nest at Pittyvaich, in the heart of
sweet birch-woods and mountain glens and murmuring waters. Thence to
Gordonstoun, and up to Dunphail to the dear old Cumming-Bruces, who,
instead of thinking me mad, like all the others, highly approved of my
Indian ploy.
Then I touched Comrie, and on to Edinburgh to my cousins Helen and
Elizabeth Forbes of Medwyn. The next day was Sunday, and the Archbishop
of York (Thompson) preached, illustrating his subject by many references
to the mountains, _e.g._—speaking of the indelible marks for eternity
left by each day’s life, he spoke of the ineffaceable lines left in past
ages by the glaciers slowly, imperceptibly gliding onward, ever onward,
over the rocks; exactly what I had been daily studying at Coruisk among
the great boulders and _blocs perchés_, lying just where they were
carried by glaciers in prehistoric ages.
Finally, one last move brought me to Jane, Lady Gordon-Cumming in
London, for all the numerous last bits of shopping. At every one of
these points, and at innumerable intermediate halting-places, I was met
by shoals of kind friends and kinsfolk coming to give me a parting
cheer—and some brought gifts, such as a whole case of eau de Cologne for
use on the voyage! As my eye glances over these pages of my diary, I
simply marvel that I could ever have possessed so many friends, and now
certainly not more than half a dozen survive—at any rate not of those
who were then grown up.
“O! tempo passato!”
[Illustration:
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY W. CROOKE, 103 PRINCES S^T. EDINBURGH.
]
On 14th November 1868, I embarked at Southampton on board the P. and O.
ss. the _Pera_, reaching Gibraltar on the 19th, and Malta on the 23rd.
It was my very first voyage, with the exception of three days’ trips on
British coasting-steamers and yachting in the Hebrides, so that the
sudden change from the cold, grey November mists of Southampton to the
wonderful sunshine and blue sky of the Mediterranean was a new
revelation.
At Malta the governor’s barge was waiting to take me to the palace of
the old knights of St. John, where Sir Patrick and Lady Grant and the
family welcomed me to what seemed fairyland. The curious narrow streets,
with their picturesque balconies, the tropical flowers, the people, the
shrines, colours, lights and shadows, were all fascinating, and the
palace itself magnificent.
On my return, I halted here for a delightful month as Lady Grant’s
guest, but on this occasion my visit was limited to one day, from our
arrival at sunrise, to re-embarking in the brilliant moonlight after a
visit to the opera—a lovely house where the governor has a box as a
matter of course—and we refreshed our ears by the music of _The
Huguenots_. Reading over that day’s diary fills me with amazement that
it should have been possible to crowd so much sight-seeing and so many
new impressions into so brief a period.
The next great excitement was reaching Alexandria and bidding farewell
to all the friends connected with the _Pera_. (Happily many very
congenial passengers continued the voyage to Calcutta.) Then followed
all the interests of first landing in Egypt and mingling in the
wondrously mixed crowds of all nationalities and varieties of costume.
For then there was no Suez Canal. All travellers still crossed the
desert, and Alexandria had not been bombarded.
We saw the orthodox sights, with a few extra ones not according to
programme, as a delay in the arrival of the steamer from Marseilles gave
us an extra day ere we were all to cross the desert by railway.
This we did on Advent Sunday. Of course everything we saw was new and
fascinating. The tall Arabs, riders on mules and asses, men in flowing
garments carrying long green sugar-canes, camels and asses “unequally
yoked” to the plough, sedgy ground, where tall reeds waved their grand
white feathery heads in the breeze. We reached Suez about 9 P.M., and by
midnight were safely on board the P. and O. ss. _Candia_.
Our voyage down the Red Sea was perfect, even “the barren rocks of Aden”
were transfigured by the glory of sunset, which flushed the summits
crimson, while the town and tanks and sea-board were wrapped in imperial
purple.
And then came Ceylon and the never-to-be-forgotten sensation of a first
glimpse of real tropics, and the wealth of luxuriant large-leaved
foliage and cocoa-palms. In those days there was no artificial harbour
at Colombo, so Point de Galle was the point of call, and large steamers
anchored at some distance from land, and the passengers rowed ashore in
native boats. All these delights became very familiar to me, when not
very long afterwards I returned to live my _Two Happy Years in Ceylon_.
We reached Calcutta on the 23rd December, and very kind friends of my
Indian brothers came on board to welcome me and take me to the luxurious
palace of Messrs. Gillanders, Arbuthnot and Co., then represented by Mr.
Ogilvie of Corriemonie. There I spent a most interesting Christmas, and
soon afterwards started up-country, halting at many points of interest
on the way.
The first break on the long railway journey was to visit the Hankeys at
Berhampore. To do so we had to cross the river Bhagarittee by boat in
the clear moonlight, with picturesque groups of natives crouching round
their fires on the river-bank. Then a thirteen miles’ drive through one
continuous town—Moorshedabad and its suburbs—old temples half-hidden by
rank vegetation, many elephants quietly feeding under great trees, and
everything looking weird in the misty moonlight.
On New Year’s Eve, Mr. Hankey having been invited by the Nawaub of
Moorshedabad to bring his friends to a great “pig-sticking” meet in the
jungle, we all drove about twenty-four miles to Dewan Serai, where,
under a group of very fine old trees, the camp of large, luxurious tents
was pitched. A very nice one was assigned to me and my maid, Alice Wass,
who immensely enjoyed the novelty of everything, and who proved herself
a capital acquisition all the time we were in India.
Anything so picturesque as that jungle-camp had never entered my dreams.
The multitude of camp-followers, chiefly robed in white, with large
turbans, their quaint _ekkas_ and other carts, the many horses and
bullocks, fourteen elephants, and a few camels and other animals, all
grouped in the strong light and shadow from the blue moonlight or the
red camp-fires, and the numerous small tents, all combined to make up a
picture which lives in memory, but defies any painter’s art. We sat in
the door of our tent and watched the close of 1868.
Of 1869 I must not now speak. From its dawn till its close it was one
long delight—every day brought strange novelties, and found me in some
new scene of beauty and interest.
Always with pleasant companions—old residents who had made India the
home of a lifetime, and were thoroughly interested in all that concerned
the country and its very varied inhabitants—I was taken from city to
city, always with leisure for painting some of the most striking scenes.
Of these I invariably made minutely accurate pencil-drawings ere
allowing myself to touch colour, and as I worked very rapidly, and
frequently started for my sketching-ground by 4 A.M. (never later than
“gun-fire,” _i.e._ 5 A.M.), I secured upwards of a hundred very
interesting large pictures.
I always found it best, in addition to small sketch-books and averagely
large blocks, to carry one very large zinc block, which, however tired I
might be, I covered anew every night, often under great difficulties. It
travelled in a flat tin box, in which also lay all the pictures painted
on it. The advantage of this great block was that when I found some vast
subject I had not to waste time planning how much could be compressed
into a small space, but could set to work at once with a fairly free
hand.
After a happy time at Allahabad with Major and Mrs. Hanmer, they had
arranged to take a holiday in order to escort me to Cawnpore, Lucknow,
Delhi, Agra, Futteyporesickri, and other places of exceeding interest,
with all of which my hosts were thoroughly familiar.
Then my sister and Warden Sergison joined us, and I returned with them
to Meerut, where the 4th Hussars were quartered. Very soon they and all
available troops were ordered to Umballa, at the foot of the Himalayas,
to take part in a grand durbar in honour of Sheer Ali Khan, the Ameer of
Afghanistan, who for the first time in history had consented to come to
meet the Viceroy (Lord Mayo). So it was a very important, as well as a
very remarkable scene. Nowadays the public have been sated with accounts
of durbars, but it was not so thirty years ago.
From Umballa we proceeded to Simla, where my sister had a delightful
bungalow, commanding a vast view of the snowy range. There I left her
with a new baby, while I travelled further into the Himalayas with
Colonel and Mrs. Graves, who were bent on sport and sight-seeing, so
that more perfect sketching companions could not have been found. We
followed the course of the Sutledge, sometimes at a great height,
sometimes ONLY 10,000 feet above the sea, while looking up at peaks of
from 22,000 to 24,000 feet.
The length of our daily marches was generally dependent on where we
could find a morsel of level ground sufficiently large to allow of our
pitching our tiny hill-tents, each about six feet square. Sometimes
these our temporary homes were on steep hillsides, looking right up to
the snowy peaks, and sometimes the narrow path led for miles along the
face of stupendous precipices, where one slip would have landed us in
the raging Sutledge, thousands of feet below.
But sometimes we came to delightful forests of ancient _diodara_, which
in maturity resemble cedars of Lebanon, and here in some green glade we
could camp beside still waters, and rest in happy peace for some days.
The weather on our upward journey was ideal, and we might have had the
same for weeks, had not a cruel colonel refused my companions any
extension of leave, so that we were compelled to return, and meet the
wet monsoon—those “rains” which are rain indeed. And now I was truly
thankful for the happy thought which had led me to secure the best of
waterproofs for myself and my sketching-materials, thanks to which I was
able to secure pictures of misty forests, even in the midst of the
rains.
After an interval of rest at Simla, I again left my sister, and stayed
with the David Frasers of Saltoun at Massourie and Landour, in another
part of the Himalayas. As at Simla in April and May, the hillsides were
glorified by scarlet rhododendrons, and so at Massourie in October the
feast of colour was supplied by acres of wild single dahlias of every
variety of gorgeous tint—purple, scarlet, and yellow mingling with grey
rocks, and seeming to reach up to the cloudless blue sky.
After Massourie came Dehra Doon, a lovely plateau among the foothills of
the great range, where noble clusters of gigantic bamboo flourish to
perfection, and thence I had a delightful expedition to Hardwar, the
holiest city of the Hindoos, being nearest to the source of the Ganges.
There the river, newly flowing from its cradle among the glaciers, is of
the loveliest aqua marine, and clear as crystal, very different from the
foul yellow stream which we found a week later at Benares, the next
holiest city, being nearest the mouth of the Ganges. Of course, both
cities are alike wholly given to idolatry, but at Hardwar it is in a
cleaner form, whereas at Benares it is overpowering, and the noise of
the innumerable temples is bewildering. Major Hanmer most kindly came
from Allahabad on purpose to escort me to Benares, where the Sergisons
joined us, and the Rajah loaded us with kindness. Having been thoroughly
lionised, we returned to the Hanmers at Allahabad, where the children
were safely housed, and thence started for Jubbulpore and the far-famed
“marble rocks” on the Nerbudda, a lovely, clear green river.
Then by the wonderful newly-constructed railway, winding through
beautiful mountain scenery, till we reached Bombay, and thence sailed
for England.
We halted awhile in Egypt to explore the immediate surroundings of
Cairo, and on 1st January 1870 we embarked at Alexandria.
On reaching Malta I forsook the Sergisons and stayed for a delightful
month with Sir Patrick and Lady Grant in the marvellous old palace of
the knights of St. John—a month which included an amazing amount of
social amusements, civil, military, and naval, one brilliant ball at the
palace, and sundry smaller dances. The Governor’s delightful box at the
opera was always available every night that we could slip in for an hour
or so after dinner, and the orange-gardens and cool marble courts, with
masses of flowers, were constant delights.
Among the pleasantest of many pleasant excursions were the weekly “naval
picnics” to various parts of the isle, and among our chief naval friends
was Captain, afterwards Admiral, Lethbridge, the very ideal of all that
a British sailor should be. He was at that time commanding H.M.S.
_Simoon_, which was doing duty as a troopship, and was about to sail for
England with troops of various regiments, chiefly engineers, with wives
and families.
The married officers included some of our special friends, so when
Captain Lethbridge offered me a passage to Portsmouth I gladly accepted,
and enjoyed the new experience immensely.
At Gibraltar we were detained long enough to allow us thoroughly to
explore the mighty Rock and all the mysteries of the wonderful tunnelled
galleries excavated in the solid rock and mounted with hidden cannon to
rake any invader. The whole Rock from base to summit is lined with most
formidable batteries, which are all casemated—truly a marvel of
engineering skill. We climbed to the very highest point, and thence
looked down on the Spanish coast and the towns of San Roque and
Algeciras, and on the vividly blue sea.
Very different was the grey stormy sea and sky, with sweeping
snow-drifts, which chilled us as we neared the Irish coast, and at
Queenstown, on 11th February, I set foot on Erin’s Isle for the first
time. We started again that night, but the storm intensified to such a
pitch that we returned to anchor for awhile. Again we steamed off on the
strength of a lull, but the weather grew fouler, grand green waves
occasionally washing clean over us, and eight men at the helm. On the
second day, having seen no sun since leaving Ireland, and consequently
taken no observations, we had to stand out to sea, but at night made the
Land’s End, and anchored under lee of the land. Next day we made our way
to Penzance, where about five hundred other vessels were weather-bound.
Not till the sixth day did we reach Portsmouth harbour, and very grey
and uninviting our England appeared.
_N.B._—After a spell in the tropics in sunshine and colour, avoid
returning to our British Isles in February, or any other bleak wintry
month! Of course the warm welcome of many loving kinsfolk is a
compensation, but it is very difficult to keep up the illusion that one
is really glad to be back.
My well-filled portfolios proved interesting to a multitude of friends
and friends’ friends, who all said they had never before been able so
thoroughly to realise Indian scenery. It was less entertaining to the
artist, who sometimes had to “do portfolio” four times in one day!
Presently, as I settled down to think over all I had seen in the last
three years, I was so much impressed by various points of strange
resemblance between old Celtic customs and similar customs in the Far
East that I wrote a very elaborate two-volume book, which I called _From
the Hebrides to the Himalayas_.
It was published by Messrs. Sampson Low, Marston and Co., and was very
kindly received by the reviewers and the public; but I felt myself that
it was too ponderous, so I eventually recast it, omitting a good deal of
somewhat irrelevant matter, and Messrs. Chatto and Windus produced it as
two independent volumes—_In the Hebrides_, and _In the Himalayas and on
Indian Plains_. On the grey binding of the former is stamped a spray of
brown Hebridean sea-weed, and on the latter a realistic Himalayan
cliff-road and snowy peak.
At a later period my glimpses of Egypt also found expression, combined
with an account of a semi-shipwrecked tour in Cornwall, of which I will
speak anon. These reminiscences were also published by Messrs. Chatto
and Windus under the title, _Viâ Cornwall to Egypt_.