Memoir of William Watts McNair, Late of "Connaught House," Mussooree, of the Indian Survey Department, the First European Explorer of Kafiristan

by J. E. Howard

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, via 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.