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.
Officering of the Native Army 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 surpassed, 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.
The Hunza-Naga Campaign 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 Pass, and, after reconnoitring the country on the borders of Kashmir, re-crossed the range by the Baroghil Pass. 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, assisted 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.
1892 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.
Visit to Nepal 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 passed a most agreeable evening.