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VOL. XXIII No. 8, August 1-15, 2013
From a Governor's notebook

Mountstuart Elphin stone Grant-Duff is not a name that readily comes to mind while listing the Governors of Madras Presidency. His was a rather uneventful tenure from 1881 to 1886. Probably his being succeeded by Lord Connemara, the scandals of whose governorship earned him immortality, put Grant-Duff further in the shade. Weak vision coupled with a sickly constitution could have also contributed significantly to his making a poor impact.

Born in 1829 in Scotland to James Grant-Duff, an experienced India hand, and Jane, he was named after Mountstuart Elphinstone, Scottish statesman, historian and Governor of Bombay. M.E. Grant-Duff studied law, passed with honours, was called to the Inner Temple and had a fairly middling career after which he took to politics, joining the Liberal Party and becoming an MP in 1857. A long tenure in the House of Commons – he was to be an MP till 1881 – did not see him exert himself much except on the topic of education on which he spoke regularly and to equip himself for which he travelled extensively in the Continent. In 1868, W.E. Gladstone rather reluctantly appointed him Under Secretary of State for India in which capacity Grant-Duff played a rather faithful second fiddle to the Duke of Argyll who was Secretary of State for India. It was during this period that the Kooka rebellion broke out in the Punjab which was brutally suppressed and at the end of which 50 men were rounded up and blown from guns. Grant-Duff was subject to intensive questioning in the House of Commons over it and he did not emerge in a good light. His comment that the number was 49 and not 50 as the last man had to be brought down in self-defence was seen as being in poor taste.

The fall of Gladstone’ s government in 1874 saw Grant-Duff out of office for six years. In 1880 he was back, once again with Gladstone, this time as Under-Secretary of State for Colonies. In 1881, he was made Governor of Madras. His handling of the Chingleput Ryots Case in which he overruled a judgement of the High Court of Madras and reinstated a corrupt and convicted tahsildar was to earn him public contempt. His administration was also accused of bungling in handling Hindu-Muslim riots in 1882. G. Subramania Aiyar of The Hindu, who joined issue on most matters with the Governor, described him to W.S. Blunt as “a failure. He came out as Governor of Madras with great expectations, and we find him feeble, sickly, unable to do his work himself, and wholly in the hands of the permanent officials. The Duke of Buckingham, of whom we expected less, did much more, and much better.” Blunt found this to be a commonly held opinion across Madras Presidency.

An assessment made with the benefit of hindsight would be more charitable, at least if his contributions to Madras city were included. He was the man who saw to the laying of the promenade along the beach, and which he first named The Marina. He interested himself in the Museum and added to its collection. His wife, to whom The Hindu was more favourably disposed, worked hard to make the Victoria Caste and Gosha (now the Kasturba Gandhi Memorial) Hospital a reality, its prime mover Mary Dacomb-Scharlieb being a protégé of hers.

Grant-Duff returned to England to permanent retirement and died there in 1906. His career as a Governor was crowned by a knighthood. Right through life he was a prolific writer and his tenure as Governor of Madras was recorded in two volumes titled Notes from a Diary, Kept Chiefly in Southern India, 1881-1886. This was published in 1899. The book was dismissed as the “jejune memoir of a rather spasmodic and superficial worker” and certainly a perusal of it reveals a man who travelled, entertained and kept waiting for the “English mail.” But it also shows him to be a person who admired natural and man-made beauty and his descriptions of Madras and its surroundings and some of the happenings here make for fascinating reading. We bring you some excerpts.

The Governor in those days had two residences – one at Government Park or Government Estate on Mount Road and the other, a weekend retreat, at Guindy. Between April and November, the gubernatorial household shifted to Ootacamund. The Cathedral that Grant-Duff refers to is St George’s on Cathedral Road. The Convent of the Presentation he visited is probably the one in George Town. Marine Villa on the beach stood where the Madras University campus is. The small bungalow for the aide-de-camp he writes about later became the Gandhi Illam and was subsequently demolished along with much of Government Estate to make way for the Assembly-cum-Secretariat-turned multi-speciality hospital.

1881

November 5: When I awoke this morning we had passed Arkonam. It had rained heavily through the night, and the country looked delightfully green, as we ran along amongst rice-fields, set with the wild date and the palmyra,¹ to Perambore, where there was a short halt for dressing. That operation over, we again moved forward to the Central Station at Madras, in which most of the leading officials, with their families, were assembled to meet us. Thence we drove to the Secretariat and ascended to the Council Chamber, where I presented the Royal Warrant and took my seat as Governor "under the usual salute from the ramparts of Fort Saint George." The colleagues with whom I thus became associated were the Honourable W. Hudleston and the Honourable D.F. Carmi­chael. Before leaving the Council Chamber, I notified my having taken charge of the Government of the Presidency to the Secretary of State, the Governor of the French Settlements in India, the Maharajah of Travancore, the Rajah of Cochin, and the Rajah of Puducotta. I likewise formally appointed the members of my personal staff.² We then drove to Government House and took possession.

* * *

November 6: Drove along the beach with Captain Cavendish, in the golden evening, and, passing through great plantations of cocoa-nut, reached the Cathedral, where we attended service.

* * *

November 7: Drove along the harbour, accompanied by all the officials chiefly concerned with the works.

* * *

November 12: A cyclone is raging. Down to the pier with the Master Attendant, where the sea was running frightfully high. Our poor harbour is terribly damaged, the Titan cranes swept away, and some lives lost.

* * *

November 19: From the morning of 7th November, when I began my work, till two days after Christmas, we remained in Madras, except on 22nd November, when we drove to Guindy, the country house of the Governor, to give a ball, and slept there. My day commenced about six, and ended soon after ten – the time going mainly in these seven things – (1) in dealing with official papers, very much, mutatis mutandis, like those to which I had become so accustomed at the India Office and the Colonial Office; (2) in giving business interviews; (3) in getting to know and form a personal estimate of most of the people, through whom the Government is worked at the centre of affairs, as well as of some few Collectors and others from the interior; (4) in visiting, mostly in the early morning, a large number of public institutions; (5) in holding Council; (6) in giving a long series of dinners and a few other entertainments; (7) in making a variety of speeches. For exercise I walked a good deal, and rode a little. When circumstances permitted I bota­nised, before the sun had got hot, in the Park of Government House, in the Agri-Horticultural Gardens or elsewhere, and, ere long, had added pretty largely to the list of tropical plants, which had passed for me out of the unknown into the known.

* * *

November 25: My wife and I went this afternoon to the Convent of the Presentation, where we were received by the Vicar-General, Dr. Colgan, and the ­Sisters, all of whom are Irish.

* * *

November 29: With Sir F. Roberts to the fort before breakfast, inspecting batteries, barracks, and so forth. I never before was in a powder magazine, materially not morally speaking, and the precautions which soldiers take in entering one were new to me – the removal of spurs, the laying aside of swords, the list slippers, and so forth.

* * *

November 30: We gave a Ball in the Banqueting Hall, which when lighted, is really a very magnificent and most festive chamber

* * *

December 6: I spent an hour at the Observatory, seeing, for the first time, the Rings of Saturn. I saw, too, Neptune, which, even through a powerful telescope, looked very small. It is, however, one hundred and six times bigger than our Earth.

* * *

December 20: My wife, complaining of the various noises of an Indian morning, and referring to the Xantholaema³, said, "Then there is that bird; I am sure the soul of Alexander the Coppersmith has passed into him, and I am much afraid the Lord will not reward him according to his works!" We gave at night the usual State Ball in honour of the Queen's birthday. It is celebrated twice in Madras, in May on the hills – in December on the plains.

* * *

December 25: We kept up the good custom of having a Christmas tree, but our Christmas tree, instead of being the pine of the North, was the Murraya exotica sent in from Guindy.

* * *

December 27: After despatching the English mail, we transferred ourselves to Guindy, thus closing the first scene of our life at Madras.

* * *

December 31: A sharp earthquake. Like the one we experienced at Castellamare in 1875 it followed violent and long-continued rains.

1882

January 4: Shortly before 5 o'clock on the afternoon of the 4th, I started from Guindy for a short excursion, accompanied by Captain Awdry and Captain Bagot. As we passed Mr. Orr's shop, he showed us a very large rough diamond, which was lately found in the Bellary District, and which he is sending to England.4 Returned to Guindy I fell back into the same life which I had been leading since I took charge of the Government, except that having pretty well got through my "institutions," I had the hours between sunrise and breakfast more to myself. Mr. Hollingsworth, the Government House Apothecary, an excellent botanist, was, as for the week or two before I started, much with me in the early mornings.

* * *

January 24: The Madras Racecourse is close to the gates of Guindy, and it is the custom for the Governor to give a prize. The race for mine took place to-day, and was won by a horse called Palmerston. We had a ball at night, and the gardens were lighted up. Captain Awdry said to me when I was at Parell, on the evening of the 1st November last, "We can do better at Guindy." And it is true, the place is admirably fitted for fetes.

* * *

January 31: The Maharajah of Travancore, the ablest as well as the most important of South Indian Princes, came to see me this afternoon.

* * *

Februay 1: I returned the Maharajah's visit. He was lodged in a house opposite the Cathedr­al, and the chimes played "Jeru­salem the Golden" all the time I was there. As he was dressed from head to foot in cloth of gold, the hymn had a certain ludicrous appropriateness.

* * *

February 10: I presided to-day, for the first time, in the Legislative, as distinguished from the Executive Council, and we passed, inter alia, the Salt Bill, which has formed a subject of discussion here and at the India Office for many months.

* * *

March 31: A good many venomous snakes were killed at Guindy this spring, most of them while we were removing an old aloe hedge, which was uncomfor­tably near the house. The list given to me contained two cobras, five Russell's vipers (Daboia elegans), one Krait (Bungarus Coeruleus), one Trimeresurus said to be Monticola, and no less than eight carawalas (Hipnale nepa).

* * *

April 3: I see by the A.D.C.'s books that, since our arrival at Madras, we have had 674 guests at dinner, not including people staying in the house, nor our own party, nor people who dined with me while I was on tour.

* * *

November 5: Reached Government House, Madras, this morning – on the same day and almost at the same moment at which we arrived last year. I may note a few particulars outside the realm of purely official business. I have made fifty-seven speeches, of which nine were in Madras and its neigh­bourhood, three at Ootaca­mund, and the rest all over the country from Hospet to Tinne­velly. We had a variety of balls, dances, and other entertainments in the evening; while at dinner we have had 1089 persons, excluding our own party and friends staying in the house. Of these 674 dined at Madras and Guindy, 415 at Ootaca­mund. Two hundred and sixty-one persons were also asked to dine, who were unable to come. I have made five tours, traversing 4875 miles (of which 1014 were by road, 215 by water, and the rest by rail), and seeing nearly half the most important places in the Presidency. I have got to know about 250 plants of the Hills, and a much larger number on the plains; but of these last I have not so exact a record. The personnel of my staff has remained as it was on 5th November 1881.

* * *

November 19: Government House stands in a Park, or, as it is locally called, a Compound, of 75 acres, between the great thoroughfare known as the Mount Road and another road running along the beach famous for its surf, which is magnificent to those on its landward, and terrific to those on its seaward-side. It is a large building, of dazzling whiteness, and of an architecture as anomalous as the church in Langham Place, which was described by the Irish bricklayer as built according to Mr. Nash's positive order. The interior is not well planned, and there is less accommodation than the outward appearance of the pile would lead one to expect; but its deficiencies are, in some respects, compensated by the great Banqueting Hall which stands near it, by the Marine Villa which is one of its dependences, and by a small bungalow inhabited by an Aide-de-Camp. The stables are excellent. The north-east monsoon is at its height, and some six or seven inches of rain have fallen during the last few days. To-day the sky is clear, still flecked with clouds, and the sea-breeze continues strong. As I stand, about half-past two, in the verandah, I have right before me the Bay of Bengal, covered with white horses, while the surf booms like the roar of a great city. Only two buildings are visible from where I am – to the right the Senate House, where I go once a year, in my capacity of Chancellor, to confer degrees; to the left the Fort, where I go once a week to hold Council. The space between me and the sea is filled, first, by the Napier Bridge which crosses the Cooum just at its mouth; secondly, by a reach of the Cooum and a grove of the wild date, Phoenix sylvestris. Still nearer is a large round pond covered with the Nelumbium speciosum, the most historic of plants, as it has been well called, for does it not figure in the pages of the Father of History? At this moment, the inrush of water from the late rains has made a clear space quite round the plants. Nearer me, and slightly to the left of the pond, is a clump of the splendid Lagerstroemia Reginae –not now in flower – while between me and it, is another clump of the sweet of the sweet-scented Plumeria alba, one of the most good-natured of trees, which goes blooming on and on all the time we are here, and was the first object which attracted my eye when I looked from the verandah on the morning of 5th November, last year. Between these, clumps a num­ber of antelopes are reposing. If I turn slightly to the right, I see a wide space of grass, only broken by three large trees, planted at considerable intervals, being fine specimens of the Albiz­zia Lebbek, the Ficus religiosa, and the Ficus Bengalensis, respectively. The two last, under the names of the Peepul and the Banyan, are familiar to all readers of Indian books. I have purposely taken my station a yard or two back from the front of the verandah, so as to limit my view and not see the more distant portions of the Park in which there are several pleasant nooks, notably a pond surrounded by the wild date. It is from the front of the verandah that every fine day after luncheon the kites are fed – a spectacle of which – thanks to their perfect grace, strength, and amiability to each other – I am never weary.

* * *

1883

March 31: Presided in the Convocation of the Madras University, and admitted the candidates to their degrees. In an examination, by the way, which took place in connection with that Institution some years ago, one of the questions asked was: "State how the two points first marked on the thermometer are obtained." The following was perhaps the wildest of some 570 wrong answers: "The two points were obtained by Sir Stamford Raleigh, when he was in Ireland." Another ran thus: "If you dip the thermometer in a solution of hydrogen gas, you will obtain the first two points." These pearls are to be found in a pamphlet published in 1877, and lately lent me.

* * *

April: These seventeen days at Guindy have been particularly pleasant. I have ridden much in the Park, where the Neem is in full blossom and the Banyan covered with its fresh green leaves. The spotted deer and antelopes hardly pretended to be startled as we cantered by. The swimming bath I have had made in the building, which I remember in 1875 as a tealery, is a great addition to the general comfort, and we have had a number of small dinners, at which Mrs. Awdry has done to the honours.

* * *

November: On the morning of the 6th we reached Guindy, and fell immediately into the way of life which we led in the spring. The garden and park were in the greatest beauty.

* * *

November 9: Went out by moonlight to see the first glory of the Victoria regia, whose great leaves are now covering my favourite pond, and whose flower opens at night. At sunset, when we returned from the swimming bath, a great bud was just unclosing. By 10 p.m. it had entirely expanded.

* * *

November 17: To the great Chembrambakkam tank in the early morning. It is one of the largest we have, covering some eleven square miles. The largest of all is Cumbum in Kurnool, which is really a huge lake.

* * *

November 24: Let me note some of the characteristics of a Guindy day at this season; the clamour of the crows as the dawn approaches; the gradual flushing of the Eastern sky; the fall of the heavy blinds let down in the verandahs, as the sun begins to rise behind the trees of the park; the little striped squirrels running up and down the ropes; the fresh soft air as we step into the garden; the Ipemoea carmea showing only a few flowers – the Nyctan­thes arbor tristis surrounded by the blossoms which came out last night – white petals and orange tubes; the yellow Gmelina speciosa in bloom, and near it the graceful lilac Duranta, beloved of gorgeous butterflies. Further on is Spathodea campanulata, covered with its large red flowers towering up on the right just as we pass among the mangoes; then the broad walk, and beyond it the centre of the garden, too full of varied forms of beauty for me to enter into particulars, but in which I usually spend some time, returning to the house about 8 o'clock. Then come the usual occupations of the day, interrupted, as far as I am concerned, only by breakfast (which takes place at nine) until the sun is westering, when it is time to start for a ride, accompanied by Cavendish or Agnew. To that succeeds the feeding of the horses with lucerne, and the swimming bath. As we return from it, we usually diverge to see if there is a new flower coming out on the Victoria regia, and hardly ever fail to exclaim with delight as, just when we pass the Spathodea, we catch the first view of the eastern of the three blocks into which the house is divided –looking sometimes white like alabaster, sometimes, when the sunset is a fine one, taking the softer hues of ivory. The swift darkness of these regions is upon us ere we cross the threshold; and the jackals begin their defiant chorus, while I am being read to between six and seven. At quarter to eight comes dinner, and then, after a very brief interval in the drawing-room, which we only prolong on moonlight nights, we separate; the cicale, or some insects of similar habits, keeping up a din to which the ear becomes as soon accustomed as it does to a waterfall – "For men may dwell by mountain streams, and all the summer round Have music lingering in their ears till they forget the sound." (To be continued)

¹ The palm which very probably suggested the common fan – Borassus flabelliformis.

² Captain Ambrose Awdry, Royal Engineers, Executive Engineer, 2nd Grade, Madras Public Works De­part­ment, Private Secretary, Major Almeric George Spencer, "The Es­sex' Regiment," Military Se­­cre­­tary, Lieutenant Cecil Charles Caven­dish, "The Highland Light Infantry," Aide-de-Camp, Lieutenant Arthur Henry Louis Bagot, "Prince Albert's Light Infantry" (Somer­setshire Regiment), Aide-de-Camp, Lieutenant William E. Evans-Gordon of the Madras Staff Corps, Extra Aide-de-Camp. Surgeon-Major John Mackenzie, M.D.,

³ This gorgeously coloured bird, which is very common, makes an incessant din like a coppersmith at his work.

4 Since cut successfully, and holding a good position amongst diamonds under the name of the Gor-do-norr.

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