CHAPTER XVII
WITH THE PRINCE IN INDIA
In September, 1875, I was appointed A.D.C. to the Prince of Wales (our
late King) to accompany his Royal Highness upon his visit to India.
The complete list of the suite was as follows: The Duke of Sutherland,
K.G.; Sir Bartle Frere; Lord Suffield, Head of the Prince's Household;
Major-General Lord Alfred Paget, Clerk-Marshal to H.M. the Queen; Lord
Aylesford; Major-General Probyn, V.C., Equerry to the Prince, in charge
of the transport and sporting arrangements; Colonel Arthur Ellis,
Grenadier Guards, Equerry to the Prince; Mr. Francis Knollys
(afterwards Lord Knollys), the Prince's private secretary;
Surgeon-General Fayrer, Physician to the Prince; Captain H. Carr Glyn,
Royal Navy, A.D.C. to H.M. the Queen commanding H.M.S. _Serapis_;
Colonel Owen Williams; Lieutenant Lord Charles Beresford, Royal Navy,
A.D.C. to the Prince; Lord Carington, A.D.C. to the Prince; the Rev.
Canon Duckworth, Chaplain; Lieutenant (afterwards Colonel) Augustus
FitzGeorge, Rifle Brigade extra A.D.C. to the Prince; Commander
Durrant, Royal Navy, commanding royal yacht _Osborne_; Dr. W. H.
Russell, hon. private secretary to the Prince, chronicler of the
voyage; Mr. Albert Grey (afterwards Lord Grey), private secretary to
Sir Bartle Frere; Mr. Sydney Hall, artist.
The Indian officers, who joined the suite at Bombay, and whose energy
and ability were beyond all praise, were Major-General Sam Browne,
V.C., in charge of transport; Major Williams, in charge of horses and
grooms; Major {158} Bradford, head of the police and responsible for
the safety of the person of the Prince; Major Sartorius, V.C., in
charge of tents and servants; and Major Henderson, linguist.
The first announcement of the intention of the Prince to visit the
Indian Empire was made by Lord Salisbury to the Council of India on
16th March, 1875. The matter was subsequently discussed at length both
in Parliament and in the Press. The condition of affairs in India,
where the mass of the ruling princes and chieftains had still to
realise that the rule of the Honourable East India Company had given
place to a greater governance, rendered the visit of the future
Sovereign of paramount importance; and the Prince's sagacity was seldom
more admirably exemplified than in his determination to visit India as
the Heir-Apparent of the Crown. That the scheme was entirely and
supremely successful in achieving the object for which it was designed,
was due to the Prince's zeal, ability, tact and indomitable vigour. He
gave his whole mind to the enterprise; thought of everything in
advance; and set aside his personal comfort and convenience from first
to last. Only one regret was present in the minds of all: the regret
for the unavoidable absence of the Princess.
The whole history of the episode has been so excellently well told by
the late Dr. William Howard Russell, the famous war correspondent, who
was a member of the suite, in his _The Prince of Wales's Tour_ (London,
1877; Sampson Low) that any detailed account of it on my part would be
superfluous.
The Prince left England on 11th October, 1875, and embarked in H.M.S.
_Serapis_ at Brindisi on the 16th. In the Suez Canal we heard of the
purchase of Suez Canal shares by the British Government. The _Serapis_
arrived at Bombay on 8th November.
Thenceforward the Prince's tour was an unresting progress of Durbars,
receptions, dinners, visits, processions, ceremonies, speeches,
addresses, fireworks, entertainments, investitures, reviews, varied
only by intervals of sport. From Bombay, {159} the Prince went to Goa,
and thence to Ceylon, visiting Colombo, Kandy, where he viewed the
sacred tooth of Gotama Buddha, and Ruanwalla, where there was an
elephant hunt. Then he went to Tuticorin, Madura, Trichinopoly,
Madras, Calcutta, Bankipoor, Benares, Lucknow, Cawnpore, Delhi, Lahore,
Cashmir, Umritsar, Agra, Gwalior, and Jeypoor. From Jeypoor he went
into camp in the Terai and enjoyed excellent sport. Then, in Nepal,
under the auspices of Sir Jung Bahadur, there was the great elephant
hunt. From Nepal the Prince went to Allahabad, then to Bombay, whence
he sailed on 11th March, 1876, having been in India seventeen weeks
exactly. "The Prince," wrote Dr. Russell on that date, "has travelled
nearly 7600 miles by land and 2300 by sea, knows more Chiefs than all
the Viceroys and Governors together, and seen more of the country in
the time than any other living man."
On the outward voyage his Royal Highness visited the King of Greece.
When the King and Queen were leaving the _Serapis_ after dining on
board, we showed them compliment and honour by setting them alight.
The blue lights burning at the main-yard being exactly above the boat
in which their Majesties were going ashore, dropped flakes of fire upon
them. The Prince also visited the Khedive. On the return voyage, the
Prince met at Suez Lord Lytton, who was on his way to India to succeed
Lord Northbrook as Viceroy; was again entertained by the Khedive;
visited Malta; called at Gibraltar; and visited the King of Spain and
the King of Portugal. The _Serapis_ was accompanied by the royal yacht
_Osborne_, Commander Durrant, and H.M.S. _Raleigh_, Captain Tryon. The
Prince landed in England on 11th May, 1876.
It is worth noting that Lord Lytton went out in the _Orontes_, one of
the Imperial Service troopships, as they were called. The troopship
service was then at times conducted by the Royal Navy, a practice since
discontinued. The _Orontes_ was commanded by Captain E. H. Seymour
(afterwards Admiral of the Fleet the Right Hon. Sir Edward {160}
Seymour, G.C.B., O.M., G.C.V.O., LL.D.) In his very interesting book,
_My Naval Career and Travels_, Sir Edward Seymour writes: "At Suez, by
arrangement, we met H.R.H. the Prince of Wales (our late King) on his
way home in the _Serapis_. At Aden Lord Lytton landed in state, it
being the first point reached of his new dominions." The point
illustrates the working in detail of the great scheme of Imperial
organisation which was conceived by the master-mind of Disraeli, and
which he continued to carry into execution so long as he was in power.
Upon landing at Bombay, I rode up to Government House with my brother,
Lord William, precisely as I had ridden up with another brother, Lord
Marcus, exactly six years previously, on the same day of the year.
Lord William was then extra A.D.C. to the Viceroy, Lord Northbrook,
having been appointed to that post as a subaltern in the 9th Lancers.
He was subsequently appointed A.D.C. to Lord Lytton, in which capacity
he attended the Viceroy at the Durbar at which Queen Victoria was
proclaimed Empress of India. He was afterwards military secretary to
three successive viceroys, Lords Ripon, Dufferin and Lansdowne;
altogether he served on the personal staff of five viceroys. From 1877
to 1879, while nominally in attendance upon the Viceroy, Lord William
fought in the Jowaki expedition of 1877-78, the Afghan war, during
which he was present at the capture of Ali Musjid, and the Zulu war of
1879. "In the latter," wrote a military correspondent of _The Times_
(31st December, 1900), "he served as a staff officer during the
reconnaissance across the White Umvolusi River and at the battle of
Ulundi. It was in Zululand, in July, 1879, that Beresford won the V.C.
for halting, when closely pursued by the enemy, to take a wounded
non-commissioned officer on his horse. When the soldier at first
declined to risk the officer's life by giving the latter's horse a
double burden, Beresford is understood to have hotly declared that
unless the man immediately got up on the saddle he would himself
dismount and 'punch his head.'"
{161}
For his services in the Burmese expedition of 1886, he received a
brevet-colonelcy; and in 1891 he was promoted full colonel; in 1894 he
received the K.C.S.I.; and thereafter remained on the active list of
the Army, but unemployed. Of his exploits on the turf it is not here
the place to speak; but I may be pardoned if I have placed on record in
this place some account of Lord William's Indian service which extended
over nearly twenty years. Few men have earned so universal an
affection as that which Lord William inspired, alike in European and
native. His ability in matters of administration was remarkable, and
he acquired an extraordinary influence over the natives of India. The
correspondent of _The Times_, already quoted, observes that Lord
William might have had a distinguished career in any profession; that
he might have been a great soldier, a great diplomat, a great political
officer, had not his passion for the turf diverted a part of his
energies. It may be so; but perhaps one may be allowed to say that one
liked him for what he was and not for what he might have been; and also
that he did not do so badly. The warmest affection existed between my
brother and myself; and his death, which occurred in 1900, was a great
grief to me. But that was in the far future when I landed from the
_Serapis_ and we rode up to Government House together.
Of the other members of the Prince's suite I retain the most pleasant
recollections. Among them I especially recall Major-General Probyn
(afterwards General the Right Hon. Sir Dighton Macnaghten Probyn, V.C.,
etc. etc.); Major-General Sam Browne, V.C. (afterwards General Sir
Samuel James Browne, V.C., K.C.S.I., etc.); Major Bradford (afterwards
Sir Edward Ridley Colborne Bradford, Bart., K.C.S.I., G.C.V.O.);
Surgeon-General Fayrer (afterwards Sir Joseph Fayrer, Bart.); and Dr.
Russell (afterwards Sir William Howard Russell, C.V.O., LL.D.).
Major-General Probyn, of magnificent presence, black-bearded,
hawk-eyed, a hero of the Mutiny, was universally respected and beloved
by the native population, over {162} whom he owned a great influence.
He was one of the finest soldiers and most delightful companions it has
been my fortune to know. In 1876, he already had twenty-five years'
service, including the Trans-Indus frontier affair of 1852-57, the
Mutiny (in which his name was a terror), in China in 1860, in the
Umbeyla campaign of 1863. He was Colonel of Probyn's Horse, 11th King
Edward's Own Lancers; afterwards Keeper of the Privy Purse, Comptroller
and Treasurer of the Household of the present King when he was Prince
of Wales; and since 1901, extra Equerry to the King.
Probyn and I assisted at a surgical operation. A mahout had his hand
smashed; and we held him while the surgeon amputated his finger and
thumb.
Major-General Sam Browne, V.C., had served in the second Sikh war with
distinction, and during the Mutiny led the surprise attack upon the
rebels at Sirpura, at dawn upon 31st August, 1858. Almost
single-handed, he charged the guns, receiving the wound resulting in
the loss of his arm. For this service, he was awarded the V.C. During
the Prince's tour he represented the Indian Army; nor could a finer or
more efficient representative have been selected.
Major Bradford had performed gallant and distinguished service in the
Mutiny. He had lost an arm, under circumstances which may be worth
repetition. Together with a brother officer, Captain Curtis, and a
trooper, Bradford was tiger-shooting. Seated in a mechan
(tree-shelter), he wounded a tiger, breaking its back; his second
barrel missed fire; and Bradford fell from the mechan on the top of the
tiger, which seized him. Bradford thrust his fist down the beast's
throat; and while Curtis was trying to get another shot, the tiger
mangled Bradford's arm up to the shoulder. Curtis eventually killed
the animal. The party had a long and painful distance to traverse
before they reached help. Bradford's arm was amputated without
chloroform. In 1890, Bradford was appointed commissioner of police in
the Metropolis, at a time when there was a good deal of {163}
discontent in the Force, and speedily proved the worth of his
unrivalled experience and ability.
Surgeon-General Fayrer, I remember, had a remarkable way with snakes.
He kept a selection of the most deadly reptiles in a wheelbarrow,
nestled in straw. With his naked hands he would uncover them, and,
deftly catching them by the neck, force them to exhibit their fangs.
Someone composed a set of irreverent verses dedicated to the
surgeon-general:
"Little Joe Fayrer
Sent for his bearer
And asked for his Christmas pie.
e put in his thumb,
And pulled out a plum,
And found it a K.C.S.I."
Dr. W. H. Russell, the famous war correspondent, who in his letters to
_The Times_ during the Crimean war did so much good service, was a most
delightful companion. He is remembered by all who knew him, both for
his talents and for his sympathetic and affectionate disposition and
his unfailing sense of humour. He was one of my greatest friends.
During the voyage, he occupied the cabin next to mine.
The Prince having requested him to provide himself with a uniform, Dr.
Russell designed a kind of Ambassadorial dress of great splendour, with
so generous a gold stripe to his kersey breeches, that we told him he
had gold trousers with a white stripe inside. These effulgent garments
unfortunately carried away when the doctor was climbing upon an
elephant, on his way to a Durbar. I executed temporary repairs upon
his person with safety pins; and implored him not to stoop. But when
it came to his turn to bow, bow he must; the jury rig parted, and a
festoon of white linen, of extraordinary length, waved behind him.
Fortunately, the assembled Indian Princes thought it was part of his
uniform.
At Mian Mir, during the ceremony of a great review of troops, Dr.
Russell, who was riding among the suite mounted on a half-broken Arab,
was suddenly heard to shout, "Whoa, you villainous brute!" At the same
moment, several of the {164} suite were knocked endways. The Arab then
got the bit in his teeth, and tore away past the Prince down the whole
line. Dr. Russell's helmet was jerked to the back of his head, his
puggaree unfurled in a long train floating behind him, he vanished into
the distance and we did not see him again until dinner-time. He passed
so close to the Prince, that had the doctor another thickness of gold
on his gold trousers, there would have been an accident to his Royal
Highness.
The Duke of Sutherland, during the Prince's journeys overland in India,
took an intense delight in driving the engine, from which it was hard
to tear him away. We had halted at a station where the customary
ceremonial had been arranged, and had changed into uniform, all save
the Duke, who was nowhere to be seen.
"Where can he be?" said the Prince.
I submitted that he might be on the engine, and went to see. Sure
enough, the Duke was sitting on the rail, his red shirt flung open, his
sun-helmet on the back of his head. In either black fist he grasped a
handful of cotton waste, with which he was mopping up the perspiration
of honest toil. He hurried to his carriage to change into uniform; and
presently appeared, buttoning his tunic with one hand. In the other he
still grasped a skein of cotton waste. The Prince looked at him.
"Can nothing be done?" said the Prince sadly.
The great elephant hunt in Nepal took place on the 25th February, 1876,
under the auspices of Sir Jung Bahadur (afterwards the Maharaja Sir
Jung Bahadur, G.C.B., G.C.S.I.). A herd of wild elephants, captained
by a male of gigantic size and valour, who had already vanquished Sir
Jung's most formidable righting elephants, had been tracked down in the
forest. Sir Jung determined that, come what would, he should be
captured. Sir Jung led the Prince and several of his suite, all well
mounted on horses, into the forest, to the rendezvous, to which the
wild herd was to be driven. But in the meantime, the big elephant had
given the hunters the slip.
I was of the hunting party, and I had the stiffest run of {165} my
life, and at the end of it there were left besides myself only my
companion--I think he was Mr. Greenwood--and six Indian notables.
Mounted on swift pad elephants, we pursued that tremendous beast at top
speed from four o'clock in the morning till six in the evening,
bursting through the jungle, splashing through rivers, climbing the
rocky steeps of hills upon which there appeared to be no foothold
except for monkeys, and down which the elephants slid upon their
bellies. So we rode hour after hour, hanging on the ropes secured to
the _guddee_, lying flat upon the steed's back to avoid being scraped
off his back by branches, until the quarry, escaping us ran straight
into Sir Jung Bahadur's party of horsemen.
There, in an open space set with sword-like reeds, stood the elephant,
his flanks heaving, his head and trunk moving from side to side. He
had one huge tusk and the stump of the other.
It was the business of the horsemen in front to keep him employed in
the open while the champion fighting elephants, Jung Pershaud and Bijli
Pershaud, were being brought up. Again and again he charged, the
riders eluding his rushes, the Prince among them. A stumble or a
fall--and nothing could have saved the rider. Presently the elephant,
wearying of these profitless tactics, wheeled and took refuge in a
swamp, where the reeds and rushes hid him. But there was nothing to do
but await the arrival of the fighting elephants. The fugitive employed
his respite in cooling himself by pouring water over his heated person.
In the meantime, Jung Pershaud, the terrible rogue elephant, somewhat
fatigued like his quarry, was drawing near. Jung Pershaud, in order to
give warning of his very dangerous presence, was hung about the neck
with a large bell, like a railway-station bell. When he was not in
action he was secured with ropes.
Presently, from out the jungle, there sounded the uneven, minatory
clangour of the bell. Everyone shouted that Jung Pershaud was coming.
The hunted elephant paused in his ablutions, turned about, and, pushing
the foliage aside with {166} his trunk, gazed in the direction of the
warning note. Then emerged into view the vast head of Jung Pershaud,
painted scarlet. He moved steadily and directly upon his quarry, who
lowered his head, presenting his long sharp tusk. The tusks of Jung
Pershaud were four to five feet long and ringed with brass.
Jung swung his trunk and dealt the hunted elephant a blow on the head,
then charged him in the flank with a resounding impact, drew back and
charged the reeling beast from behind. The hunted elephant took to
flight, pursued by Jung Pershaud, heading straight for the place where
I was watching the combat among the pads and smaller fighting
elephants. These turned and fled in terror.
The hunted elephant plunged into the wood, ploughing his way through
the undergrowth, leaving Jung Pershaud behind him. Sir Jung Bahadur,
following with the Prince and the rest of the party, adjured us to keep
out of the way of the fleeing beast while keeping him in sight. The
quarry checked at an opening in the forest and remained in the shelter
of the trees, while the Prince, with Sir Jung Bahadur and Dr. Russell,
rode across a stream into the open space. Sir Jung Bahadur sat on his
horse and cursed the elephant; who, after hearkening attentively for a
few minutes, suddenly charged the horsemen.
At the same instant, the second fighting elephant, Bijli Pershaud,
burst out of the jungle, and the two animals met forehead to forehead
with a crash. Bijli Pershaud drew off and charged again, striking the
hunted elephant on the shoulder, and running beside him, charged him
heavily again and again, until the poor driven beast dropped his trunk
and uttered a pitiable cry. He was beaten at last.
As we came up, it was discovered that the elephant was blind of one
eye; everyone commiserated the defeated gladiator; and Sir Jung Bahadur
offered to let him go free should the Prince so desire.
The Prince having accepted the suggestion, the elephant was led captive
away and was secured with thick ropes to a {167} tree. He bent his
vast strength to a last effort to escape, so that the tree creaked and
shook under the strain. He cried aloud in despair, and then stood
silent, refusing all food.
They set him free upon the following day, having sawn off his great
tusk; which was presented by Sir Jung Bahadur to the Prince.
A few days before the great hunt took place in Nepal, Sir Jung
Bahadur's regiment of elephants paraded before the Prince. They
numbered more than 700, and were drilled to manoeuvre in companies to
the sound of the bugle. After the hunt, the Prince reviewed Sir Jung's
army: a corps which, as the message from the Queen delivered by the
Prince recalled in gracious terms, had tendered valuable help to the
British arms upon an important occasion. The total strength of the
army was 114,000 infantry and 420 guns. The infantry, in addition to
rifle and bayonet, carried the _kukri_, or curved knife, the national
weapon. We witnessed an exhibition of its use by the soldiers, who
vied with one another in cutting, with a single action, slices of soft
wood from a baulk, the cut making a diagonal section. More by good
luck than by merit, I succeeded in cutting the widest section; and
perceiving it to be extremely improbable that I could repeat the
performance, I refused the invitation to try again. Sir Jung Bahadur
presented me with the _kukri_ I had used. I have the weapon now.
With this weapon, I slew a boa-constrictor. Riding an elephant after
tiger, on which occasion shooting at any other game was forbidden, I
saw a boa-constrictor, and dismounted. The great snake was lying
asleep, coiled in a hole in the ground and half hidden in foliage.
Selecting a narrowing coil, I cut nearly through it. The snake darted
at me, and I finished it with a stick. Although it was dead, its body
continued to writhe until sunset. For a long time I kept the skin, but
unfortunately it decomposed.
My brother Lord William and I were out pig-sticking, and were riding
after a boar. I got first spear, when the {168} boar knocked both me
and my horse clean over. The boar went on, then turned, and as I was
in the act of getting up, came right at me. Remembering what an old
pig-sticker, Archie Hill, had told me a man should do if he were bowled
over and a boar attacked him, I rolled over on my face, presenting my
least vital aspect to the enemy. But my brother, cleverly turning his
horse, killed the boar within a few feet of me. The beast's head is
preserved at Curraghmore.
During the whole time of the Prince's stay in India, one of his suite,
the members of which took it in turns to discharge the duty, remained
on guard over his person at night. I have in my possession the pair of
pistols with which the gentleman on watch was armed.
On 10th January, 1876, the Prince visited the Cawnpore Memorial.
"There was deep silence," writes Dr. Russell, "as the Prince read in a
low voice the touching words, 'To the memory of a great company of
Christian people, principally women and children, who were cruelly
slaughtered here'--the name of the great criminal and the date of the
massacre are cut round the base of the statue. No two persons agree as
to the expression of Marochetti's Angel which stands over the Well. Is
it pain?--pity?--resignation?--vengeance?--or triumph?" Perhaps my
aunt, Lady Waterford, could have enlightened the learned doctor; for
she it was who designed the monument, which was carried into execution
by Marochetti.
A certain officer in high command was extremely agitated concerning the
exact degree of precedence due to him--or rather, to the Service to
which he belonged; a matter not easy to settle amid the throng of
British dignitaries and Indian potentates. The officer chafed sorely
at the delay; nor was he soothed by the injurious remarks of a junior
member of the suite, who dealt with his dignity in a spirit of
deplorable frivolity. At last, however, the junior member approached
him with the aspect of sympathetic gravity proper to the occasion.
{169}
"I congratulate you, sir. That matter of your order of precedence has
been settled at last."
"I am glad to hear it--very glad to hear it," said the officer. "The
delay has been simply scandalous. What is to be my position?"
The junior member appeared to reflect.
"Oh, of course," he said, at length. "Now I remember. Your place,
sir, is between the Ram of (something) and the Jam of (something else)!"
The distinguished officer: "...!!!"
On 30th November, 1875, while the _Serapis_ was on her way from Bombay
to Colombo, the Prince kindly presided at a dinner given in honour of
my promotion to the rank of commander. In a letter written to me by
his Royal Highness some years afterwards, he recalls that festivity,
with a note of regret that those jolly days were gone. Three years
afterwards, upon the occasion of my marriage, the suite presented me
with a most beautiful silver bowl, which remains one of my most highly
prized possessions.
There were many Babu poems composed to celebrate the Prince's prowess
as a hunter. Among them, I remember the following:--
"Beautifully he will shoot
Many a royal tiger brute;
Laying on their backs they die,
Shot in the apple of the eye."
Seven years afterwards, I visited India again. It seemed to me that in
the interval the relations between the Indian and the Englishman had
changed for the better; in that the natives were less afraid of the
white man, and that a better feeling had grown up between East and
West. The principle upon which India is governed is the principle of
establishing justice and humanity. India is governed by the sword; but
the sword is sheathed.
{170}