Part 8 (1/2)

I never knew a case of torture being employed, but otherwise the laws were carried out with severity. Ghumbeer Singh (reigned 1825-34) occasionally tore out an offender's eyes, but such things had been forgotten in the days of his son, and though the Government was strong, probably there were fewer acts of cruelty than in most native states. Once when Ghumbeer Singh had lately introduced tame geese into the country; he gave two to a Brahmin to take care of. It was reported that a goose was dead. ”Tell the Brahmin to eat it,” said the indignant Rajah. The severity of such an order to a Hindoo will be appreciated, by any one knowing what loss of caste entails. Ghumbeer Singh's orders were always implicitly obeyed, so I am afraid that the sentence was carried into effect.

The army consisted of about 5000 men at the outside, in eight regiments of infantry and an artillery corps. The famous cavalry was a thing of the past, and many of the infantry were quite unacquainted with drill. There were eight three-pounder bra.s.s guns, and two seven-pounder mountain guns given as a reward for services in the Naga Hills, one of which did admirable service in the Burmese war. Most of the infantry were armed with smooth-bore muskets, some being of the Enfield pattern. Besides the above, there were about 1000 to 12,000 Kuki Irregulars. A Manipuri military expedition was a strange sight, the men besides their arms and ammunition carrying their spare clothes, cooking vessels, food, etc., on their backs. All the same, they could make long and tiring marches day after day on poor fare and without a complaint, and at the end of a hard day would hut themselves and fortify their position with great skill, however great the fatigue they had undergone. It was a standing rule that in an enemy's country a small force should always stockade itself, and a Manipuri army well commanded was then able to hold its own against a sudden attack. On their return from a successful expedition the troops were greatly honoured, and the general in command accorded a kind of triumph, and it was an interesting sight to see the long thin line of picturesque and often gaily-clad troops, regulars and irregulars winding their way through the streets and groves of the capital bearing with them spoils and trophies gained in war. Here a party headed by banners, there some Kukis beating small gongs and chanting in a monotonous tone. Finally, after marching round two sides of the palace, they enter by the great gate, pa.s.s between the Chinese walls, and again between the two lions (so called), and being received by the Maharajah at the Gate of Triumph, their General throws himself at his feet and receives his chief's benediction, the greatest reward that he can have.

I realised from the first that it would be an immense advantage to reconst.i.tute the Manipur Levy, and keep up a permanent force of 800 men under my direct orders, properly paid, armed, clothed and disciplined. I foresaw that a war with Burmah was a mere question of time, and wished to have a force ready, so as to enable the British Government to act with effect at a moment's notice through Manipur, on the outbreak of hostilities. Regular troops eat no more than irregular, and are ten times as valuable. My plan was to have 800 men enlisted, of whom 200 would have come on duty in rotation, according to the Manipur system, all being liable to a.s.semble at a moment's notice. Thus a splendid battalion of hardy men could have been formed, with which I could have marched to Mandalay. Such a force would have been absolutely invaluable when the war broke out in 1885, men able to stand the climate, march, fight, row boats, dig, build stockades, in fact do all that the best men could be called upon to do. However, to my great disappointment, the idea did not commend itself to Government, and I never ceased to regret it. I often later on thought of the lives and money that might have been saved in 1885-86 had we been better prepared, the cost of the proposed levy would have been trifling.

One part of the Manipuri system ever struck me as very admirable, and I tried always to encourage it; that was the system of rewarding services by honorary distinctions. The permission to wear a peculiar kind of turban, coat, or feather, or to a.s.sume a certain t.i.tle was more valued than any money reward, and men would exert themselves for years for the coveted distinction. It is charming to see such simple tastes and to aspire no higher than to do one's duty and earn the approval of our fellow-creatures.

One day the two ministers Thangal Major and Bularam Singh came to see me, accompanied by old Rooma Singh Major. They looked rather uneasy, and I suspected something was coming out. Presently Thangal rose and saluted me, and said, ”The Maharajah has promoted us to be generals.” I received the intelligence without any enthusiasm, feeling a.s.sured that the act had been dictated by a desire to give them a more high-sounding t.i.tle than my military one, I being then only a lieut.-colonel. It was in fact a piece of self-a.s.sertion. Any one understanding Asiatics will know what I mean, and that I knew instinctively it was a move in the game against me which I ought to check. I coldly replied that of course the Maharajah would please himself, but that I loved old things, old names, and old faces, and that I had so many pleasant a.s.sociations with the old t.i.tles that I could not bring myself to use the new ones, and should continue to call them by the dear old name of Major. I then shook hands with them most cordially and said good-bye, and they left rather crestfallen, where they had hoped and intended to be triumphant. I may as well tell the remainder of the story. Time after time was I begged to address my three friends as ”General,” but I was inexorable, and the t.i.tles almost fell into disuse among the Manipuris who had at first adopted them. Old Thangal once had a long talk about it, and I said plainly, ”I give nothing for nothing: some day when you do something I shall address you as General.” Years pa.s.sed. I went on leave, and my loc.u.m tenens too good-naturedly gave in, and addressed them as General, and even induced the Chief Commissioner of the day to do likewise. When he wrote to me and told me of it, I was naturally not very pleased, and mentioned it to an old Indian friend, who said, ”Well, you will have to do the same now that the Chief Commissioner has.” However, I was not going to swerve from my word. I returned to Manipur, and one of the ministers met me on the boundary river. I again greeted him as ”Major Sahib,” and immediately the new t.i.tles again began to fall into disuse. I told the Chief Commissioner my views when I next met him, and he approved, as I said I could not alter my word.

Some time after this I again renewed efforts that I had long been making for the establishment of an English school in Manipur. The Durbar naturally objected; wisely from their point of view, they knew as well as I did that the fact of their subjects learning English would eventually mean a better administration of justice, and a gradual sweeping away of abuses. I felt, however, that the time was come, and I urged the question with great force, and one day said to the ministers, ”You have long wanted to be addressed as 'General,' and I told you that when you did something worthy of it I should do so. Now the day that the Maharajah gives his consent to an English school being established, I shall address you as General.” A few days afterwards the Maharajah's consent was brought. I immediately stood up and shook hands most warmly with them, saying, ”I thank you cordially, Generals.” From that day the question was finally set at rest, after years of longing on the part of the old fellows. We had always understood each other, and they felt and respected the part I had taken, and, I believe, valued their t.i.tles all the more from my not having given in at once.

The Rath Jatra Festival, i.e., the drawing of the Car of Juggernaut, is greatly honoured in Manipur, and every village has its Rath (car). The Dewali, the feast of lights, is also faithfully kept. Also the Rathwal, one of the feasts of Krishna, when there are many dances, and an enormous bird is cleverly constructed of cloth with a bamboo framework, and a man inside, who struts about to the delight of the children. The Koli Saturnalia is also duly celebrated; the red powder ”Abeer,” is thrown about amongst those who can get it, and the burning of the temporary shrines lights up the sky at night, and the holes where the poles stood, are a fertile source of danger to ponies and pedestrians for weeks afterwards. The Durga Poojah is kept, but is a feast of minor importance. At the Rath Jatra the number of people drawn together was enormous, and the white ma.s.s could be very distinctly seen from Kang-joop-kool with a telescope, when the weather was clear. This view was sometimes obscured by clouds, and often when staying there did I wake up to see the whole of the valley filled up with fog, like a vast sea of cotton-wool, stretching across to the Yoma range of hills many miles away.

Lunar rainbows were not uncommon in Manipur, and I often saw them from Kang-joop-kool. Often, too, from thence have I seen a complete solar rainbow, each end resting on the level surface of the valley. Once, in riding to Sengmai on a misty morning, I saw a white rainbow rising from the ground; a fine and weird sight it was.

The view over the valley at night from the surrounding hills was sometimes wonderful. I never shall forget one night in the rainy season, when the moon was s.h.i.+ning brightly in the valley, but obscured from my view by an intervening cloud; the bright reflection on the watery plain sent out a long stream of light which brightened up the glistening temples of the Capelat. This, and the dim hills in the distance, and the whole amphitheatre enclosed by them lighted up faintly, while the dark threatening cloud hanging in air between me and the rising moon, that had not yet apparently reached my level (I was 2500 feet above the valley, and seemed to be looking down on the moon), made a picture never to be forgotten.

CHAPTER XVII.

Mr. Damant--The Naga Hills--Rumours on which I act--News of revolt in Naga Hills and Mr. Damant's surrender--Maharajah's loyalty--March to the relief of Kohima--Relief of Kohima--Incidents of siege--Heroism of ladies--A n.o.ble defence.

In November, 1878, Mr. Damant removed the headquarters of the Naga Hills District from Samagudting to Kohima, and established himself there with his party, in two stockades. He had a very ample force for maintaining his position, but he had not sufficient to make coercing a powerful village an easy task. He was an able man, with much force of character, high-minded and upright, and had been greatly respected in Manipur, where he acted as Political Agent for some months after Dr. Brown's death. He was also a scholar, and was perhaps the only man of his generation in a.s.sam capable of taking a comprehensive view of the languages of the Eastern Frontier, and searching out their origin. His premature death was an irreparable loss to philology.

With all this he had not had sufficient experience with wild tribes to be a fit match for the astute Nagas, and was constantly hara.s.sed by the difficulty in the way of securing supplies, which ought to have been arranged for him, in the early days of our occupation of Samagudting, by making terms with the Nagas as to providing food carriage. It was his misfortune that he inherited an evil system. We had been forced into the hills by the lawlessness of the Naga tribes, and we ought to have made them bear their full share of the inconveniences attendant on our occupation, instead of making our own people suffer.

Mr. Damant at first contemplated getting his supplies from Manipur, through the Durbar, but they objected, it being their traditional policy to prevent the export of rice for fear of famines, the distance and cost of transport making the import, in case of scarcity, an impossibility. I declined to put pressure, as I saw the reasonableness of the Durbar argument, and I objected to force the hill population of Manipur to spend their time in carrying heavy loads, to save the turbulent and lazy Angamis. In September, 1879, however, I heard a rumour from native sources that Mr. Damant was in great difficulties and straits for want of provisions, [22] and I wrote and told him that if it were true, I would make every effort to send him some supplies, and to help him in every way I could. I did not receive any answer to this letter, and subsequently ascertained that it had never reached him.

I knew the Angamis well, and was very anxious about Mr. Damant and his party, and felt sure that some trouble was at hand.

About this time my wife's health began to give me much anxiety; she had one or two severe attacks of illness, and was much reduced in strength. Who that has not experienced it can imagine the terrible, wearing anxiety of life on a distant frontier, without adequate medical aid for those nearest and dearest to us. She was better, though still very weak, when an event occurred that shook the whole frontier.

Early in the morning of October 21st, I received a report from Mao Tannah, the Manipuri outpost on the borders of the Naga Hills, to the effect that a rumour had reached the officer there, that the Mozuma Nagas had attacked either Kohima, or a party of our men somewhere else, and had killed one hundred men. I have already mentioned my anxiety about Mr. Damant's position, and there was an air of authenticity about the report which made me feel sure that some catastrophe had occurred, and that he was in sore need. I said to Thangal Major, ”We will take off fifty per cent. for exaggeration, and even then the garrison of Kohima will be so weakened that it is sure to be attacked, and there will be a rising in the Naga Hills.”

I instantly took my resolve and detained my escort of the 34th B.I., which had just been relieved by a party of Frontier Police, and was about to march for Cachar. I also applied to the Maharajah for nine hundred Manipuris, and sufficient coolies to convey our baggage. He at once promised them, and I made arrangements to march as soon as the men were ready; but there was some delay, as the men had to be collected from distant villages. The next morning, before sunrise, Thangal Major came to see me, bringing two letters from Mr. Cawley, a.s.sistant Political Agent, Naga Hills, and District Superintendent of Police. The letters told me that Mr. Damant had been killed by the Konoma men, and that he and the remainder were besieged in Kohima, and sorely pressed by Nagas of several villages. Immediately after this, the Maharajah himself came and placed his whole resources at my disposal, and asked me what I would have. I said two thousand men, and he replied that that was the number he himself thought necessary, and asked if he should fire the usual five alarm guns, as a signal to call every able-bodied man to the capital. I consented, and in ten minutes they thundered forth their summons. Coolies to carry the loads were the chief difficulty, as they, being hill-men, lived at a greater distance. I also despatched a special messenger to Cachar to ask for more troops and a doctor; and I made arrangements for a.s.sisting them on the road. I despatched two hundred Manipuris by a difficult and little-frequented path to Paplongmai (Kenoma [23]), to make a diversion in the rear of Konoma, as, from all I heard, it seemed that the astute Mozuma was not involved. I sent on a man I could trust to the Mozuma people, to secure their neutrality. I also sent my Naga interpreter, Patakee, to Kohima, to do his best to spread dissension amongst its seven different clans and prevent their uniting against me. I gave him a pony, and told him to ride it till it dropped under him, and then to march on foot for his life, and promised him 200 rupees reward if he could deliver a letter to Mr. Cawley before the place fell. In the letter I begged Mr. Cawley to hold out to the last as I was marching to his a.s.sistance.

One day, about a year before, a fine young Naga of Viswema, a powerful village of 1000 houses, a few miles beyond the frontier of Manipur and right on our track, had come to me and asked me to take him into my service. I did so, thinking he might be useful some day, and now that the day had arrived, I sent him off to his people to win them over, threatening to exterminate them if they opposed my march.

I had fifty men of the Cachar Police and thirty-four of the 34th B.I., including two invalids, one of them a Naik, by name Buldeo Doobey, who came out of hospital to go with me, as I wanted every man who could shoulder a musket. For the same reason I enlisted a volunteer, Narain Singh, a fine fellow, a Jat [24] from beyond Delhi, who had served in the 35th B.I., so he took a breach-loader belonging to a sick man of the 34th. I shall refer to him again. He carried one hundred and twenty rounds of ball cartridge on his person, three times as much as the men of the 34th. I sent off my combined escort with all the Manipuris who were ready under Thangal Major, and stayed behind to collect and despatch supplies and write official letters and send off telegrams to Sir Steuart Bayley, and on the 23rd rode out, and caught up my men at Mayang Khang, forty miles from Manipur. The rear-guard of the 34th had not come up when I went to bed that night at 11 P.M.

I left my poor wife still very weak and I was thankful that she had her good sister as a stay and support. Just before leaving, our youngest boy Arthur held out his arms to be taken. I paused from my work for a moment and took him. It was the last time I saw him. Sad as was my parting, I rode off in high spirits; who would not do so when he feels that he may be privileged to do his country signal service! Besides, I hoped to find all well when I returned.

We left Mayang Khang on October 24th and marched to Mythephum, twenty miles along a terribly difficult mountain path, much overgrown by jungle. It was all I could do to get the 34th along, as they were completely knocked up. I had a pony which I lent for part of the way to one of my invalids and so helped him on. I was continually obliged to halt myself and wait for the stragglers, cheer them up, and then run to the front again. Narain Singh was invaluable and seemed not to know fatigue. We reached Mythephum after dark, but the rear-guard did not arrive till next morning.

At Mythephum I mustered my forces. The Maharajah had sent the Jubraj and Kotwal Koireng with me (little did I think of the fate in store for them and for old Thangal [25]) and found that very few Manipuris had arrived, and almost all of the force with me were so knocked up that, to my intense disappointment, I had to make a halt. I was too restless to sit still, so spent the day in reconnoitring the country. In the evening I had an interview with Thangal Major and afterwards with the Jubraj. Old Thangal was for halting till we could collect a large force as he said a large one was required, and he begged me to halt for a few days. I finally pointed out that a day's halt might cause the annihilation of the garrison of Kohima, and said that if the Manipuris were not ready to move, I would go along with any of my own men who could march. I appealed to the Jubraj to support me which he did, [26] and for which I was ever grateful, and we arranged to march next day. I found that the Nagas of Manipur were infected with a rebellious spirit, and not entirely to be depended on, and any vacillation on our part might have been fatal, and would certainly have sealed the fate of Kohima.