Forty-one years in India Part 70

CHAPTER LXVIII.

1890-1893

Extension of command--Efficiency of the Native Army --Concessions to the Native Army--Officering of the Native Army --The Hunza-Naga campaign--Visit to Nepal--A Nepalese entertainment --Proposed mission to the Amir--A last tour--Farewell entertainments --Last days in India

New Year's Day, 1890, found me in Calcutta, where I went to meet Prince Albert Victor on his arrival in India. On my way thither I received a letter from Mr. Edward Stanhope, Secretary of State for War, telling me that he had heard from Lord Cross, the Secretary of State for India, that there was a proposal to ask me to retain my appointment of Commander-in-Chief in India for some time after the expiration of the usual term of office; but that, while such an arrangement would have his hearty approval, he thought the question should be considered from another point of view, and that it would be extremely agreeable to himself, and he felt to the Duke of Cambridge also, if he could secure me for the post of Adjutant-General in succession to Lord Wolseley. Mr. Stanhope went on to say he would like to know whether I would be willing to accept the appointment, or whatever position Lord Wolseley's successor would fill, should the report of Lord Hartington's Commission cause a change to be made in the staff at the Horse Guards.

I was pleased, though somewhat surprised, at this communication, and I replied to the Right Honourable gentleman that I would gladly accept the offer, and that I could arrange to join on the 1st October, when the appointment would become vacant, but that, as Lord Lansdowne had expressed a wish that I should remain in India over the next cold season, I hoped, if it were possible, some arrangement might be made to admit of my doing so. The idea of employment in England, now that I allowed myself to dwell upon it, was very attractive, for dearly as I loved my Indian command, and bitterly as I knew I should grieve at leaving the country, the peoples, and the grand army, which were all sources of such intense interest to me, I felt that the evil day at longest could only be postponed for a few years, and that there is a limit to the time that even the strongest European can with impunity live in an eastern climate, while I was glad to think I should still be in a position to work for my country and for the benefit of the army.

From Calcutta I travelled north to Muridki, where a large force of Horse Artillery and Cavalry was a.s.sembled for practice, and where we had a standing camp, at which Prince Albert Victor did us the honour of being our guest for the final manoeuvres. I think His Royal Highness enjoyed the novelty of camp life, and was greatly attracted by the picturesque and soldier-like appearance of the Native troops.

The Native officers were very proud at being presented to the grandson of their Empress, and at His Royal Highness being appointed Honorary Colonel of the 1st Punjab Cavalry.

Towards the end of April I returned to Simla for what I thought was to be our last season in that place; and shortly after I got up there, a telegram from Mr. Stanhope informed me that my appointment had been accepted by the Cabinet, and that my presence in England was strongly desired in the autumn. It was therefore with very great surprise that I received a second telegram three weeks later from the Secretary of State, telling me that, as it was then found to be impossible to choose my successor, and as the exigencies of the public service urgently required my presence in India, the Cabinet, with the approval of Her Majesty and the concurrence of the Duke of Cambridge, had decided to ask me to retain my command for two more years.

I felt it my duty to obey the wishes of the Queen, Her Majesty's Government, and the Commander-in-Chief; but I fully realized that in doing so I was forfeiting my chance of employment in England, and that a long and irksome term of enforced idleness would in all probability follow on my return home, and I did not attempt to conceal from Mr.

Stanhope that I was disappointed.

At the latter end of this year, and in the early part of 1891, it was found necessary to undertake three small expeditions: one to Zhob, under the leadership of Sir George White, for the protection of our newly-acquired subjects in that valley; one on the Kohat border, commanded by Sir William Lockhart, to punish the people of the Miranzai valley for repeated acts of hostility; and the third, under Major-General Elles,[1] against the Black Mountain tribes, who, quite unsubdued by the fruitless expedition of 1888, had given trouble almost immediately afterwards. All these were as completely successful in their political results as in their military conduct. The columns were not withdrawn until the tribesmen had become convinced that they were powerless to sustain a hostile att.i.tude towards us, and that it was their interest, as it was our wish, that they should henceforth be on amicable terms with us.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FIELD-MARSHAL LORD ROBERTS ON HIS ARAB CHARGER 'VONOLEL.'

_From an oil-painting by Charles Furse._]

While a considerable number of troops were thus employed, a fourth expedition had to be hurriedly equipped and despatched in quite the opposite direction to punish the Raja of Manipur, a petty State on the confines of a.s.sam, for the treacherous murder of Mr. Quinton, the Chief Commissioner of a.s.sam, and four other British officers.

Notwithstanding its inaccessibility, two columns, one from Burma, the other from Cachar, quickly and simultaneously reached Manipur, our countrymen were avenged, and the administration of the State was taken over for a time by the Government of India.[2]

Towards the end of January the Cesarewitch came to Calcutta, where I had the honour of being introduced to our august visitor, who expressed himself as pleased with what he had seen of the country and the arrangements made for His Imperial Highness's somewhat hurried journey through India.

In April my military colleague in the Viceroy's Council for five years, and my personal friend, General Sir George Chesney, left India, to my great regret. We had worked together most harmoniously, and, as he wrote in his farewell letter, there was scarcely a point in regard to the Army in India about which he and I did not agree.

Sir George was succeeded by Lieutenant-General Brackenbury, who had been Director of Military Intelligence at the War Office. I was relieved to find that, although in some particulars my new coadjutor's views differed from mine, we were in accord upon all essential points, particularly as to the value of the Indian Army and the necessity for its being maintained in a state of preparedness for war.

From the time I became Commander-in-Chief in Madras until I left India the question of how to render the army in that country as perfect a fighting machine as it was possible to make it, was the one which caused me the most anxious thought, and to its solution my most earnest efforts had been at all times directed.

The first step to be taken towards this end was, it seemed to me, to subst.i.tute men of the more warlike and hardy races for the Hindustani sepoys of Bengal, the Tamils and Telagus of Madras, and the so-called Mahrattas of Bombay; but I found it difficult to get my views accepted, because of the theory which prevailed that it was necessary to maintain an equilibrium between the armies of the three Presidencies, and because of the ignorance that was only too universal with respect to the characteristics of the different races, which encouraged the erroneous belief that one Native was as good as another for purposes of war.

In former days, when the Native Army in India was so much stronger in point of numbers than the British Army, and there existed no means of rapid communication, it was only prudent to guard against a predominance of soldiers of any one creed or nationality; but with British troops nearly doubled and the Native Army reduced by more than one-third, with all the forts and a.r.s.enals protected, and nearly the whole of the Artillery manned by British soldiers, with railway and telegraph communication from one end of India to the other, with the risk of internal trouble greatly diminished, and the possibility of external complications becoming daily more apparent, circ.u.mstances and our requirements were completely altered, and it had become essential to have in the ranks of our Native Army men who might confidently be trusted to take their share of fighting against a European foe.

In the British Army the superiority of one regiment over another is mainly a matter of training; the same courage and military instinct are inherent in English, Scotch, and Irish alike, but no comparison can be made between the martial value of a regiment recruited amongst the Gurkhas of Nepal or the warlike races of northern India, and of one recruited from the effeminate peoples of the south.

How little this was understood, even by those who had spent a great part of their service in India, was a marvel to me; but, then, I had had peculiar opportunities of judging of the relative fighting qualities of Natives, and I was in despair at not being able to get people to see the matter with my eyes, for I knew that nothing was more sure to lead to disaster than to imagine that the whole Indian Army, as it was then const.i.tuted, could be relied on in time of war.

General Chesney fortunately shared my opinions, and as Lords Dufferin and Lansdowne trusted us, we were able to do a great deal towards increasing the efficiency of the Native Army and improving the status and prospects of the Native soldier. Several companies and regiments composed of doubtful material were disbanded, and men of well-known fighting castes entertained instead. Cla.s.s regiments were formed, as being more congenial to the men and more conducive to _esprit de corps_; recruiting was made the business of carefully selected officers who understood Native character, and whose duty it was to become acquainted with the various tribes inhabiting the districts from which the recruits for their own regiments were drawn; and special arrangements were made with the Nepalese Government by which a sufficient number of the best cla.s.s of men could be obtained for our thirteen Gurkha regiments.

The pay of Cavalry soldiers was improved, and it was pointed out to the Government that an increase to the Infantry soldiers' pay could not be long deferred;[3] the issue of good-conduct pay was accelerated; _jagirs_[4] were sanctioned annually for a limited number of specially distinguished Native officers; full pay was authorized for recruits from date of enlistment instead of from the date of joining their regiments; field _batta_[5] was sanctioned whenever troops should be employed beyond sea or on service; pensions were granted after a shorter period of service than heretofore; medals for meritorious service and good conduct were given in commemoration of Her Majesty's Jubilee; bronze war medals were sanctioned for all authorized Government followers; a reserve, which it was arranged should undergo an annual course of training, was formed for the Artillery and Infantry; and a system of linked battalions was organized, three battalions being grouped together, and the men being interchangeable during war-time.

While the tendency of these alterations and concessions was to make all ranks happy and contented, their training was carefully attended to, and, as I have before mentioned, musketry particularly reached a very high standard.

The one thing left undone, and which I should like to have been able to accomplish before leaving India, was to induce the Government to arrange for more British officers to be given to the Native regiments in time of war. Nine to a Cavalry and eight to an Infantry corps may be sufficient in time of peace, but that number is quite too small to stand the strain of war. Indian soldiers, like soldiers of every nationality, require to be led; and history and experience teach us that eastern races (fortunately for us), however brave and accustomed to war, do not possess the qualities that go to make leaders of men, and that Native officers in this respect can never take the place of British officers. I have known many Natives whose gallantry and devotion could not be surpa.s.sed, but I have never known one who would not have looked to the youngest British officer for support in time of difficulty and danger. It is therefore most unwise to allow Native regiments to enter upon a war with so much smaller a proportion of British officers than is considered necessary for European regiments.

I have no doubt whatever of the fighting powers of our best Indian troops; I have a thorough belief in, and admiration for, Gurkhas, Sikhs, Dogras, Rajputs, Jats, and selected Mahomedans; I thoroughly appreciate their soldierly qualities; brigaded with British troops, I would be proud to lead them against any European enemy; but we cannot expect them to do with less leading than our own soldiers require, and it is, I maintain, trying them too highly to send them into action with the present establishment of British officers.[6]

In the late autumn of 1891 our latest acquisition, the Zhob Valley, was included in my frontier tour, which I had the pleasure of making, for the greater part of the way, in the company of General Brackenbury. He was prevented from getting as far as Quetta by an accident which laid him up for some time, but not, as he told me, before he had seen enough of the frontier to satisfy him that the tribes were a factor in our system of defence which could not be ignored, and that I had not exaggerated the importance of having them on our side.

During this winter the brilliant little Hunza-Naga campaign took place, which has been so graphically described in Mr. Knight's 'Where Three Empires Meet.' It was brought about by Russia's intrigues with the Rulers of the petty States on the northern boundary of Kashmir; and our attention was first roused to the necessity for action by two British officers, who were journeying to India by way of the Pamirs and Gilgit, being forced by Russian soldiers to leave what the leader of the party called 'newly-acquired Russian territory '[7]--territory to which Russia had not the shadow of a claim.

In addition to this unjustifiable treatment of Captain Younghusband and Lieutenant Davison, Colonel Yanoff crossed the Hindu Kush with his Cossacks by the Korabhut Pa.s.s, and, after reconnoitring the country on the borders of Kashmir, re-crossed the range by the Baroghil Pa.s.s.

As this was a distinct breach of the promises made by the Russian Government, and an infringement of the boundary line as agreed to between England and Russia in 1873, it was necessary to take steps to prevent any recurrence of such interference, and a small force was accordingly sent against the Chief of Hunza, who had openly declared himself in favour of Russia. He made a desperate stand, but was eventually driven from his almost inaccessible position by the determined gallantry of our Indian troops, a.s.sisted by a Contingent from Kashmir. Three Victoria Crosses were given for this business, and many more were earned, but of necessity there must be a limit to the disposal of decorations; and in an affair of this kind, in which all proved themselves heroes, each individual must have felt himself honoured by the small force being awarded such a large number of the coveted reward, in proportion to its size.

We reaped the benefit of having taken this district under our own control when Chitral required to be relieved, and the Hunza-Naga people afforded Colonel Kelly such valuable help.

On the 1st January, 1892, I received an intimation that Her Majesty had been graciously pleased to bestow a peerage upon me, and the same day the Secretary of State for India offered me a further extension of my appointment as Commander-in-Chief--an offer I would gladly have accepted, as I knew it had been made with the concurrence of the Viceroy, if I could have taken even a few months' leave to England.

But during a quarter of a century I had only been able to spend eighteen months out of India, and I felt the need of change of climate and a little rest after so many years of continued hard work. Under the existing regulations a Commander-in-Chief could have no leave.

Lord Cross had tried to remedy this hard rule by bringing in the 'Officers' Leave Bill'; but as he informed Lord Lansdowne it was impossible to get it through the House of Commons that session, I was obliged very reluctantly to beg to be allowed to resign my command in the spring of 1893.

Before returning to Simla for really the last time, my wife and I made another trip to Burma as far as Mandalay, and after this was over we paid a most interesting visit to Nepal, having received the very unusual honour of an invitation to Khatmandu from Maharaja Bir Shumsher Jung Rana Bahadur.

Khatmandu is about a hundred miles from our frontier station of Segowli, by a very rough road over a succession of steep, high hills and along deep, narrow valleys, which would have been quite impossible for a lady to travel by but for the excellent arrangements made by the Nepalese officials; the last descent was the worst of all; we literally dropped from one rock to the next in some places. But on reaching the base of the mountain all was changed. A beautifully cultivated valley spread itself out before us; comfortable tents were prepared for our reception, where we were met by some of the State officials; and a perfectly appointed carriage-and-four was waiting to carry us on to Khatmandu, where we were received by the Resident, Lieutenant-Colonel Wylie, and his wife, old friends of ours. That afternoon the Maharaja paid me a private visit.

The next morning the official call was made, which I returned soon afterwards; and in the evening the Maharaja, accompanied by his eldest son and eight of his brothers, all high officers of state, were present at Mrs. Wylie's reception, wearing military frock-coats and forage-caps. They all spoke English fluently; their manners were those of well-bred gentlemen, easy and quiet, as free from awkwardness as from forwardness; each, coming up in turn, talked very pleasantly to Lady Roberts for a time, and then made way for someone else. The Maharaja is extremely musical, and has several well-trained bands, taught by an English bandmaster; three of them were in attendance, and were directed to play selections from our favourite operas, and then a number of the beautiful plaintive Nepalese airs. Altogether, we pa.s.sed a most agreeable evening.

The following day a review of all the troops (18,000 men and 78 guns)[8] was held on a ground one mile in length by half a mile in breadth, perfectly level and well turfed. It would be considered a fine parade-ground for the plains of India, and must have entailed a considerable expenditure of time, labour, and money to make in such a hilly place as Khatmandu.

On reaching the ground, I was received by the Maharaja and Deb Shamsher Jung, the eldest of his many brothers, and the nominal Commander-in-Chief of the army; we rode along the line together, and the march past then began. Everything was done with the utmost precision; there was no fuss or talking, and from first to last not a single bugle sound was heard, showing how carefully officers and men had been drilled. I was told that the executive Commander-in-Chief, the third brother, by name Chandra Shamsher, had almost lived on the parade-ground for weeks before my arrival. The Maharaja's sons and brothers, who all knew their work, and were evidently fond of soldiering, commanded the several divisions and brigades.

The troops were not, perhaps, turned out quite so smartly as those in our service, and several of the officers were old and feeble; but these were the only faults perceptible, and I came to the conclusion that the great majority of the 18,000 men were quite as good as the Gurkhas we enlist; and I could not help thinking that they would be a valuable addition to our strength in the event of war.

General Chandra Shamsher is a very red-hot soldier. He said to my wife: 'Lady Roberts, when are the Russians coming? I wish they would make haste. We have 40,000 soldiers in Nepal ready for war, and there is no one to fight!'

The next day a grand durbar was held, at which the King (the Maharaja Dhiraj, as he is called) presided; he was an unusually handsome lad of about eighteen years of age, fairer than most Nepalese, and very refined looking. As on all previous occasions, everyone wore uniform except the King, who had on a perfectly plain dress of spotless white.

Great deference is outwardly paid to the Dhiraj, but he has no power, and is never consulted in matters of State, being considered too sacred to be troubled with mundane affairs. Although a mere boy, he had four wives, two of them daughters of the Maharaja Bir Shamsher Jung.

After the durbar, I was shown over the princ.i.p.al school and hospital; both appeared to be well conducted, and evidently no expense was spared upon them. I was then taken to a magazine, in which were a number of guns of various calibre and any amount of ammunition. I was told there were several other magazines, which I had not time to see, and a few miles from Khatmandu extensive workshops, where all kinds of munitions of war were manufactured.

That evening, accompanied by Colonel and Mrs. Wylie, we attended a reception at the Maharaja's palace. The durbar hall, which was filled with men in uniform, was of beautiful proportions, and very handsomely decorated and furnished. After the usual introductions and some conversation with the chief officers, we were invited to visit the Maharani in her own apartments, and having ascended a flight of steps and pa.s.sed through numerous corridors and luxuriously furnished rooms, we were shown into a s.p.a.cious apartment, the prevailing colour of which was rose, lighted by lamps of the same colour. The Maharani was sitting on a sofa at the further end of the room, gorgeously apparelled in rose-coloured gauze dotted over with golden spangles; her skirts were very voluminous, and she wore magnificent jewels on her head and about her person. Two Maids of Honour stood behind her, holding fans, and dressed in the same colour as their mistress, but without jewels. On each side of her, forming a semicircle, were grouped the ladies of the Court, all arrayed in artistically contrasting colours; they were more or less pretty and refined looking, and the Maharani herself was extremely handsome. My wife was placed by her side on the sofa, and carried on a long conversation with her through one of the ladies who spoke Hindustani and acted as Interpreter. The Maharani presented Lady Roberts with a beautiful little Chinese pug-dog, and the Maharaja gave me a gold-mounted _kookri_ (Gurkha knife). After this little ceremony there was a grand display of fireworks, and we took our leave.

Nothing could exceed the kindness we met with during our stay in Nepal. The Maharaja endeavoured in every way to make our visit enjoyable, and his brothers vied with each other in their efforts to do us honour. It was impressed upon me that the Nepalese army was at the disposal of the Queen-Empress, and hopes were repeatedly expressed that we would make use of it in the event of war.

Notwithstanding the occasional differences which have occurred between our Government and the Nepal Durbar, I believe that, ever since 1817, when the Nepal war was brought to a successful conclusion by Sir David Ochterlony, the Gurkhas have had a great respect and liking for us: but they are in perpetual dread of our taking their country, and they think the only way to prevent this is not to allow anyone to enter it except by invitation, and to insist upon the few thus favoured travelling by the difficult route that we traversed. Nepal can never be required by us for defensive purposes, and as we get our best cla.s.s of Native soldiers thence, everything should, I think, be done to show our confidence in the Nepalese alliance, and convince them that we have no ulterior designs on the independence of their kingdom.

On leaving Nepal we made a short tour in the Punjab, and then went to Simla for the season.

One of the subjects which chiefly occupied the attention of the Government at this time was the unfriendly att.i.tude of the Ruler of Afghanistan towards us. Abdur Rahman Khan appeared to have entirely forgotten that he owed everything to us, and that, but for our support and lavish aid in money and munitions of war, he could neither have gained nor held the throne of Kabul. We refused to Sher Ali much that we could have gracefully granted and that would have made him a firm friend, but in our dealings with Abdur Rahman we rushed into the other extreme, and showered favours upon him; in fact, we made too much of him, and allowed him to get out of hand. The result was that he mistook the patience and forbearance with which we bore his fits of temper for weakness, and was encouraged in an overweening and altogether unjustifiable idea of his own importance; he considered that he ought to be treated as the equal of the Shah of Persia, and keenly resented not being allowed to communicate direct with Her Majesty's Ministers.

In the hope of being able to establish more satisfactory relations with the Amir, Lord Lansdowne invited him to come to India, and, on His Highness pleading that his country was in too disturbed a condition to admit of his leaving it, the Viceroy expressed his willingness to meet him on the frontier, but Abdur Rahman evaded this arrangement also under one pretext or another. It was at last proposed to send me with a Mission as far as Jalalabad, a proposal I gladly accepted, for I was sanguine enough to hope that, by personal explanation, I should be able to remove the suspicions which the Amir evidently entertained as to the motives for our action on the frontier, and to convince him that our help in the time of his need must depend upon our mutually agreeing in what manner that help should be given, and on arrangements being completed beforehand to enable our troops to be rapidly transported to the threatened points.

Abdur Rahman agreed to receive me in the autumn, and expressed pleasure at the prospect of meeting me, but eventually he apparently became alarmed at the size of the escort by which the Government thought it necessary that I, as Commander-in-Chief, should be accompanied; and, as the time approached for the Mission to start, he informed Lord Lansdowne that his health would not permit of his undertaking the journey to Jalalabad.