1861–2–3--THE STAFF COLLEGE
I meet my future wife--Reading for Staff College--Death of
the Prince Consort--The Military Secretary--The Canada
war scare--Life at Camberley--Charles Kingsley--Viscount
Southwell--A heavy fall over a gate--A Muhammadan missionary on
the Elbe--A dream shows question in Examination papers.
Early in January I attended before a Medical Board in London, and
by it was advised to place myself under the care of Mr. Toynbee, a
celebrated aurist. He promised there would be considerable improvement
in my hearing, but said in one ear it would never fully recover, as
inflammation had caused the tympanum to adhere to the bone, and added
it would be unwise for me to return to India for at least two years. I
became a Captain in April, paying £1000 to Government, and £1,500 over
Regulation to the officer who retired in my favour. My country still
retains the Regulation sums for my Commissions, except the Cornetcy,
which was given to me. Sir John Michel, on learning of my promotion, at
once, and unknown to me, renewed his application for a Brevet Majority
for my services in Central India, which after repeated requests was
granted in August 1862.
While I was in India I had not sufficient leisure to attend to my left
arm, which from the loss of bone and from being for months in a sling,
had shrunk considerably, and so after a month’s rest at home, I took
lessons with the gloves, foils, and sabre, using both hands equally, by
which means I greatly increased the strength and use of the left arm.
Early in the spring I went to Mortlake to stay with my former comrade,
now Viscount Southwell, and met the lady who seven years later became
my wife. Southwell had never tired in the three years I had been away
of expatiating on my merits, real and imaginary, to his four sisters,
and thus they were all disposed to receive me kindly as their brother’s
friend. The second had recently married Mr. Justice, afterwards Lord,
FitzGerald;[92] the other three resided with Southwell.
When I had rested for a few months, I took up my books again, and early
in September went to reside with Captain Lendy, who prepared young men
for Woolwich, and officers for the Staff College. He was a handsome
man from near Perpignon, in the south of France. All his family had
been Royalists, and on returning from Algeria at the time of the
proclamation of the Republic, out of which grew the Third Empire, Lendy
left the Army, and settled in England. He was assisted by Herr Zöbel
and a Swiss, Monsieur Delissert, both of whom were clever in imparting
knowledge. My first interview with Captain Lendy was decidedly
depressing, for after stating my object I was questioned with immense
rapidity as to my knowledge, which was limited, being confined to a
good knowledge of Hindustani and a slight acquaintance with French. His
remark, “Ah, then it is difficult,” made me all the more anxious to
succeed, and for many months I worked hard.
* * * * *
In spite of the fact that on going to India I had given up £150 of my
allowance, and on my getting command of Beatson’s Horse the other £100,
I was in funds for once in my life, and should have liked to hunt; but
until I had been up for the Examination in July in the following year I
took no pleasure except that of rowing, working as many hours a day as
my head would allow, and getting exercise by sculling up and down the
Thames, summer and winter, in an outrigger which I purchased on going
to Sunbury. Delissert was such a pleasant and enthusiastic teacher
that I regretted I was forbidden to do any French after the first few
weeks, Captain Lendy explaining that I knew enough to secure two-thirds
marks, and must turn to German, which I did, being instructed by Herr
Zöbel. Both these men were more successful in teaching me than was
Captain Lendy, whose mind was so quick that it was difficult for him to
exercise sufficient patience with any one who was entirely ignorant
of a subject. He himself, besides knowing the answer to any possible
question which could be asked in any Examination paper, had also a
marvellous memory for dates. One morning when sitting at early study
with him, the post was brought in, with it a parcel for me containing
Haydn’s _Dictionary of Dates_. My tutor, with the vivacity of his
race, looking up, asked me the name of the book, and on my answering
observed, “Yes, it is a good book, but you should have it all here,”
pointing to his forehead. “Oh, that is impossible; no man could have
all in his head.” On which he replied confidently, “I have it all.”
I then said, “Well, Captain Lendy, I will open the book with the
paper-cutter, and if you answer three questions which I shall take at
random, successfully, I will admit you know the book.” My first was the
date of Hampden’s death; “1643” came without a moment’s hesitation. The
next was the date of the Catholic Emancipation Act, to which he replied
immediately, “1829.” I then asked, “Will you tell me the dates of the
Numantine Wars?” “Ah,” he said, “that is a little difficult,” and he
counted on his fingers for less than a minute, and replied, “143–133
B.C.”
I passed through London early on the morning of Monday, the 16th
December, when the news of the death of the Prince Consort, on
Saturday-Sunday night, was announced. The sorrow was universally
deep, and Dean Milman expressed correctly the feeling of the Nation
in a sermon delivered a week later in St. Paul’s Cathedral, when he
observed, “From the Highest to the Lowest it is felt that a great
example has been removed from amongst us.”
Early in 1862 I went to Heidelberg, and lived in the family of a German
Professor for two months, when I returned to Sunbury, working steadily
until the examination, which was held in July. I had never done any
Euclid or Algebra at Marlborough, and I found both of them troublesome;
it appeared to me to be easier to learn by heart the first four books
of Euclid than to attempt to understand them. My fellow-pupils at
Sunbury, three of whom rose to be General officers, used chaffingly to
ask me if I could remember the problems if they changed the letters;
but such changes did not affect me, as I remembered the relative
positions of the letters. Like most men who have spent on Active
Service the years generally given to study, I was slow in acquiring
knowledge of Military Drawing, and indeed had made so little progress
that just before the Examination Captain Lendy advised me not to waste
the time by attending at the Hall. Herr Zöbel, however, told me, as
indeed he told his employer, that he was mistaken: “Major Wood cannot
draw, but he understands.” And this was the case, for I was amongst
the few in the Examination who got the section of that ugly-looking
plan entitled “Kirkcudbright” correct. As I passed out of the Hall at
Chelsea, seeing beads of perspiration starting from a friend’s forehead
who was clever at hachuring, I asked him later what was the matter, and
he said that he had just discovered that in his section he had made the
highest hill the deepest valley on the plan.
On the third day of the Examination, a brother-officer in the 17th
Lancers called on me to ask my advice. Said he, “Is it any use for me
to have a try at the German paper?” “What do you know?” “Nothing, until
last night, when I bought Dr. Emil Otto’s Grammar, and have not been
to bed; at this moment I believe I can say the first five Declensions
backwards or forwards. Naturally, I cannot speak a word, and know
nothing more of it.” I replied, “You might try, for Dr. Max Müller
marks highly for Grammar; and at all events you will only lose an hour,
after which you can come out.”
This proved to be good advice for him, for he got the minimum, 50
marks, but unfortunate for me, for when the marks were totalled he had
made 1904, I scoring only 1903.
On the evening of the last day of Examination I went to Oxford with
Southwell, and started at daylight next morning to pull down the
Thames. I had been pulling daily for a year, and so was in hard
condition. My friend had been leading a London life, and his arms
and face caught by the sun were painfully swollen, and he became so
exhausted that he drove into Reading, the lock-keeper’s son replacing
him in the boat; and as Southwell was still indisposed next day, I
took the lad as far as Maidenhead, where I was anxious to arrive,
as Southwell’s sisters were coming to dine and spend the evening.
Southwell did not know that I loved his sister, and indeed resented it
as soon as he became aware of the fact, some months later.
Before the result of the examination became known, I heard from a
friend that I could not hope to join the Staff College while in the
17th Lancers,[93] and arranged to exchange into the 73rd Perthshire
Regiment. The difference of one mark in the Examination entailed a
considerable pecuniary loss to me, as if I had been able to wait until
the 17th Lancers returned from India, due before my course at the Staff
College would expire, I should have received much more for the exchange.
I now made another financial arrangement with my parents, who always
wanted to give me more than they could afford. At my request, they
reduced my allowance when I went to India, and stopped it at the end
of 1859. I had saved enough money in the East for all my expenses up
to date, and had still some in hand; but we now arranged that I should
draw £80 per annum, and I did so until my father’s death, four years
later, gave me a small income.
I joined the 73rd at Plymouth at the end of November, and with one
exception was fortunate, for a more pleasant, agreeable set of officers
it would have been difficult to find, and the people round the “Three
Towns” being far off London, were very hospitable; indeed, it may be
assumed that hospitality in country houses exercised in favour of
officers varies in inverse ratio to the distance from London.
The difference in the behaviour of the men and of those with whom I had
served in the 13th Light Dragoons was remarkable, the 73rd having more
prisoners one morning than the 13th showed in a week; yet the battalion
was really a good one, as is shown by the Adjutant-General, later Lord
Airey, putting his only son in it.
The Colonel of the Regiment, Hugh M. Jones, who was universally liked,
observed to me the day after my arrival, “I suppose as you have come
from Cavalry you do not know much about Infantry drill, but I could not
think of ordering an officer of your service to attend drill parades.
I may, however, mention there is afternoon drill for the Subalterns
four days in the week, at which you can, if you desire, attend, and
look on.” I naturally, after this, drilled as a Subaltern, until I was
satisfied I could command a company fairly in the intricate movements
in which Senior officers of that period delighted. Our Cavalry drill,
complicated and useless as much of it was, has always in my period of
service, until the last few years, been much in advance of the Infantry
book.
In December I made the acquaintance of the Military Secretary,
an aristocratic-looking, clever, well-informed, but hot-tempered
gentleman, with a delicate constitution, which accounted for his not
having been allowed to serve in the Crimea. This disappointment had
soured a naturally generous man so far as regarded his treatment of
applicants for War Service. Nevertheless, he was inflexibly just, and
under a stiff and sometimes repellent demeanour concealed a kindly
nature mingled with a keen sense of humour. He dominated the Army
through the Horse Guards for eleven years.
The progress of the war in America indicated there might be trouble
in Canada,[94] and it became known that half a dozen officers were
to be sent out to that country on Special Service; so, asking for an
interview, I was ushered into the General’s room. “Well, what do you
want?” “To go to Canada.” “We are sending only Cavalry officers out.”
“I left Cavalry, sir, six months ago, but I will exchange back again,
if I may go.” “No; the selection will be limited to half-pay officers.”
“I will retire on half-pay, sir.” “You would lose the place you have
obtained at the Staff College, and I do not believe you would succeed
in another competitive entrance Examination.” “I’ll chance it, sir, if
I may go out.” “Look here, young man, you want to go on Service, but it
does not go down here.” “That is evident, sir.” “Get out of my room.”
I hope, if any of the young officers who applied to me as
Adjutant-General to aid them in getting out to South Africa, forty
years later, read this book, they will recall that my reception of them
was more sympathetic. There was no intrinsic difference in our aims,
however; we both desired to get the best men for the work to be done
for our country. The innate generosity of the Military Secretary’s
mind may be seen by the following story. He sent for a young officer,
who was playing billiards at a Club, relative to an application he had
made for some post, and the young man hastening to obey the summons,
placed in his pocket a piece of chalk which he was handling at the
time. He was badly received, and his application refused. As he left
the General’s office he chalked up on the door, “Cave Canem.” The
messenger-in-waiting being short-sighted, the legend remained unnoticed
until the General saw it when he was leaving in the evening, and as
he had not received anyone else that afternoon there was no doubt as
to who had thus expressed his opinion of the Military Secretary, and
so the following morning the young officer was sent for again, and
taxed with having written the notice. He at once admitted it, and
expressing regret, had his application granted! My next interview
with the Military Secretary was of a more pleasant nature than when
my application to be sent to Canada was refused. He accompanied the
Commander-in-Chief and many other General officers to inspect the work
done at the Staff College, and was pleased to make some complimentary
remark on my drawing of “The Polygonal System,” on which I had spent
many weary hours; but the effect of the praise I received from the
Staff was lessened by the fact that many of them regarded the drawing
upside down!
At the end of January I took my horses to the Staff College--a
thoroughbred which had run third for the Goodwood Cup, an ordinary
hunter, and the pony which I had brought from the Crimea. In 1863 the
officers passed into the Staff College by competition, being allowed
to take up a great number of subjects, which had helped me materially,
as though ignorant I was quick at learning; but the system had the
great disadvantage of never allowing a student time to master any one
subject. When I had been for a month at Sunbury, Captain Lendy made
me drop French and take to German, observing, “You know quite enough
French to get two-thirds marks, and you must give your time now to
other subjects.” Once in the College, the competition to get out of it
was on a different system, the number of subjects being limited, and
there was also a minimum aggregate number of marks essential to ensure
a pass being awarded. This minimum was based on the assumption that
everyone would score 565 in every subject. Now, Mathematics counted
1200, and although scarcely anyone got more than 800 or 900, yet as
the average man got over 600, he had a great advantage over the mere
linguist in obtaining the aggregate minimum, since full marks for a
language was only 300.
A few days after my arrival, the Professor of Mathematics, in his
opening lecture, turned over the first seventy pages of Todhunter’s
_Algebra_, saying, “It is no use talking to you about this; all of you
will understand that,” most of what he said being incomprehensible to
me, who had never got farther than the simplest of Simple Equations.
When the lecture was over, I explained to him my ignorance, and that
it would be practically impossible for me to keep up with the class.
He was kind and sympathetic, offering to give me private instruction;
but I wrote to the Council of Military Education as to my position,
and stating that while I had no desire to compete, I asked permission
to take up either Russian or Chinese, not for marks but only to show
I was not idle, and to obtain the minimum aggregate, in order to pass
out. The answer was to the effect that mine was not the first case, and
although the Regulation as it stood did not oblige officers to take
up Mathematics, yet in the opinion of the Council it was desirable
that every officer should do so, and that if I wished to obtain the
certificate of having passed through the Staff College, I must score so
high in all the other subjects as to get the minimum number of marks.
In any case, I should have to do a certain amount of Trigonometry, for
which I should not receive any credit. The letter ended with strongly
worded advice to give up the idea I had formed, stating that two of
my predecessors after making a somewhat similar request, had been
obliged later to revert to Mathematics. This advice, however, I did not
accept, and two years later did sufficiently well in French, German,
Hindustani, and other subjects, to gain three places on passing out, on
the position I held in the Entrance Examination.
Many of my companions of the College were no longer young, and some
found it difficult to alter their habits to the College life. A clever
Artillery officer was much vexed because after the first week, during
which his messmates consented to play whist with him after dinner as
an act of politeness refused to do so any longer; thus he was left
without amusement in the evening, being unwilling to follow the custom
of most of the officers, who studied till bedtime. For a week or ten
days I played chess with him, at the end of which time he returned to
Regimental duty, although there was no doubt he could have passed well,
had he been willing to alter his mode of life.
I soon made the acquaintance of the Reverend Charles Kingsley, whose
Rectory, Eversley, was about 6 miles from the College, and spent many
happy Sundays in the family circle. Thousands of his readers may have
often pictured in their minds what kind of man wrote _Westward Ho_, but
few can have realised his delightful simplicity and charm of manner,
which made him a most eloquent preacher in spite of an occasional
stammer. This did not affect him in the pulpit, where his great command
of language enabled him to bridge over a word he found difficult, by
substituting a synonym, and I never heard more perfect word-pictures
than those he preached of David’s life on four successive Sundays in
1864. He loved not only his fellow-men but all Nature, and his children
“learnt without tears” the names of every tree, plant, wildflower, and
weed. I asked him once if he would not shorten the service by omitting
the Litany when he read the Communion service, and he replied he had
started by doing so, but the labourers, possibly feeling they were
being defrauded, complained, saying, “Unless we get the whole, we
shan’t come.”
Throughout the two years’ course I hunted as a rule five days a
fortnight. For the first year I went home every Saturday night, thus
giving the Professors the impression that I was not studying; but I
was never in bed after six on a hunting morning, and always did three
hours’ study on my return, and so lost less time than my instructors
imagined.
In the spring of 1863, when my affection for Miss Paulina Southwell
became evident, I was given to understand that, irrespective of
monetary considerations, neither Lord Southwell nor any of his family
would consent to receive me into it, unless I became a Catholic. I had
loved the lady from the first day I met her, on my return from India.
I had many Catholic friends and sincere admiration for their religion,
an admiration which deepened year by year after my marriage, as I saw
it so perfectly exemplified in my wife’s Christian life. I could not,
however, accept the suggestion that I should abandon the Church in
which I had been brought up, and possibly resented the conditions on
which only the prize was obtainable. I read many Catholic books, and
Newman’s _Apologia pro Vita Sua_ two or three times over, when it was
published a year later, but seldom met Paulina Southwell during the
next four years, nor did we exchange a single letter, till I asked her,
in August 1867, to marry me. My friendship for Southwell, dating from
1855, deepened yearly, and we remained on affectionate terms until his
death, in 1878; nevertheless, while guardian of his orphan sisters,
he never lost sight of the possibilities of unhappiness incidental to
mixed marriages, and therefore, in spite of our friendship, he was
unwilling to receive a Protestant into his family. His fears, however,
were unfounded, for though a difference of religion of man and wife is
not generally conducive to domestic happiness, yet it never raised a
discordant note between Paulina Southwell and me in the twenty-three
years of our union.
On the 29th December 1863, while staying with Sir Thomas Barrett
Lennard, I had a heavy fall, nearly breaking my neck. I got away with
hounds from one of the Belhus coverts, close on a fox. I was riding
a thoroughbred mare on a snaffle, and she swerved from a small fence
on to a high gate, jumping as she breasted it. We turned right over
in the next field, my body remaining on the saddle while my head was
twisted back between her feet, with one of which, in struggling to
rise, she hit my head. I was taken to Belhus, and next morning, when
my mother returned to see me, her look of horror made me crawl to the
looking-glass after she had left the room. I had fallen on the crown
of my head, and my neck had swollen till it protruded beyond the
cheek-bones, giving the appearance of large double goitre. I hunted
again three weeks later, at Dewlish, in Dorsetshire, when on a visit to
General Sir John Michel, to whom I owed much in my career. I strolled
into the King’s Arms, Dorchester, to look at the room where Clement,
Stanley Clarke, and I messed in 1855, and hearing the hounds met at
Dewlish next day, hired a cob. I had no riding-clothes, and in my
skull-cap[95] presented an unusual figure on the lawn. We found in the
home covert, and the hounds crossed a flight of rails, not high, but
being strong, nearly all the field rode off at an angle to avoid them.
I welcomed the chance of seeing if my fall had unnerved me, but when
the pony went so close as to touch the rails with his knees as he rose,
I felt my heart flutter; but he knew his work, and carried me well.
I spent the summer vacation of 1864 visiting the battlefields of
Frederick the Great and Napoleon. I had advertised, in the spring
of the year, in leading German papers asking to be received into a
German family for six weeks, stating that I was a student of the Staff
College. I selected one of the more expensive offers, and went to
Dresden. On my arrival, I received a letter from Monsieur Delissert,
who was my tutor at Sunbury in 1861. He had become proprietor of a
school at Ouchy, in Switzerland, the pupils being nearly all Germans,
and invited me to join him on a holiday walking tour. My acceptance
of the offer precluded the possibility of my staying at Dresden, and
my prospective host courteously offered me the assistance of his son,
a young man who spoke no English, for a short walking tour, which
I carried out in the Saxon Switzerland. At Heidelberg in 1862, and
at Dresden in 1864, I paid or was asked to pay only half the sum I
expended for my sons a quarter of a century later, but it is right to
state they were better accommodated and boarded.
The day after the young man left me to return to Dresden I was going
down the Elbe, and when near the Bastei[96] my attention was attracted
by a noise in the fore part of the steamer. Strolling forward, I found
an Indian dressed in the Irregular Cavalry uniform, a long dark green
coat, red puggaree, cummerbund, and knee-boots. He had the look of
the “Derby Dog” in his face, and the excitement of the Germans was
sufficient to startle anyone, for they were shouting at him at the
top of their voices single English words. Going up behind him, I said
gently in Hindustani, “Can I be of any assistance to you?” Jumping
round, he replied, “All praise to the Almighty, I once more hear a
civilised tongue.”
His story, which I translated sentence by sentence to the Germans
standing around, was peculiar. After leaving our Service, he had lived
in Jerusalem for twenty years as a Muhammadan missionary, with what
success he did not say, and was travelling to England as a mendicant.
He had papers on him from Consuls and other persons in authority,
and a letter signed by the Governor of Agram, Croatia. The interest
that the Germans took in the strangely dressed man now increased, and
they collected £8, 14s. in gulden, which they asked me to give him.
One gentleman was so impressed by the story that he asked me to bid
him welcome to his house in Berlin, if he passed that way on going to
England. When I conveyed this polite offer, the mendicant said with
some indignation, “God is our provider; we should take no thought for
the morrow.” While thinking how to render pleasantly the somewhat curt
reply, the German proverb came into my head, which I used, softening
the Indian’s remark into a polite expression of gratitude, and ending
with the explanation, “He holds, ‘Jeder Tag hat seine Sorge.’” I found
that the numberless questions which the excited Germans launched at me
was tiring, and taking up my small handbag I endeavoured to get ashore
unperceived when the steamer stopped under the Bastei; but the Indian
was too quick, and catching me on the gangboard by the skirt of my
frock coat, with the apposite Eastern expression, “I clutch the hem of
your garment,” followed me up to the hotel where I intended to remain.
I explained the situation to the manager, adding that the man had £8,
14s. in silver, but that I would be answerable for his bed and board
that night, and then I left him.
A quarter of an hour later, while I was having tea, the waiter ran to
me, saying, “Your black friend has taken off most of his clothes on the
river bank: will you please speak to him?” Going outside, I saw the
Indian kneeling on a prayer-carpet on the sand, divested of all his
clothing except a loin-cloth. I said, “What are you doing? Put your
clothes on; you must not kneel here naked.” He looked reproachfully at
me, and said, “Kneel down too; it is the hour of evening prayer;” and
then it dawned on me that he thought I was a Mussulman. After dinner, I
paid my bill and the missionary’s, and walked away at daybreak, fearing
I might be saddled with his company for an indefinite period.
Two days later, I went from Dresden to see the battlefield of Bautzen,
and having noticed there was apparently a station 8 or 9 miles from
the town close to the scene of action, I asked for a ticket to the
place, Forstchen. The booking clerk said, repeating the name two or
three times, “Do you really want to go there?” And on my replying in
the affirmative, he went out on to the platform, and said to the guard,
“This gentleman wants to go to Forstchen;” and the guard looked me
over as if I were demented. Before the train started, he repeated the
question, “You really want to go to Forstchen?” And at the next station
before arriving at my destination, he came to the carriage door and
said, “Give me your ticket; there is no one there to take it.” The
station consisted of a long platform, and when the train passed on I
felt as if I were on a desert island. Walking southward towards the
battlefield, I came on a group of children, who screaming fled. One of
them was lame, and him I caught, and with chocolates and coppers soon
made him sufficiently at home to talk; and the other children, who had
stopped to see what became of their companion, now came back. I sent
one of them to call his father, who was at work; and the man, about
five-and-forty years of age, proved to be an excellent guide. He had
lived with his father, who was present at the battle as a spectator,
and had practically worked on the battlefield all his life, and told me
the name of every natural feature.
From Dresden I went to Munich, Prague, and thence into Switzerland to
see my friend Delissert. I joined his party, and have never had so good
accommodation at such moderate terms. One of the elder boys generally
walked ahead, and made a bargain. In order to ascend the Righi, we
started from an unfrequented village--indeed, we were never on beaten
tracks. Every room I slept in was scrupulously clean, and the cheapness
may be understood from my bill at one place, which for a supper, with
two meat courses and second course, half a bottle of wine, bed, with
a roll and coffee next morning, was five francs. I acquired some
colloquial proficiency in German, and then returned to Camberley.
The instruction at the College was unsatisfactory in many respects;
for example, the French teacher’s one idea of imparting knowledge
of his language was to read the letters of the great Emperor to his
brothers and subordinate Generals, and thus the words, “Napoleon à
Joseph, Mon frère,” had the effect of clearing the study of all who
could get out without being rude to this courteous Professor. The
Fortification and Drawing Instructors knew their subjects, but were not
good teachers. I had the advantage of sitting under two distinguished
lecturers: Colonel, afterwards Sir Edward Hamley, whose _Operations
of War_ is a Military text-book, and who so bravely led his Division
at Tel-el-Kebir; and the other, Colonel Charles Chesney, celebrated
for his _Waterloo Lectures_, which were republished in all Continental
capitals, who was one of a clever family, his brother being the author
of _The Battle of Dorking_. Colonel Hamley expected his pupils to
accept his deductions as well as his facts, and did not encourage
original research.
After his lecture on the battle of Blenheim, there being no books
which treated of the battle in the then meagre Staff College library,
I obtained in London Cox’s _Life of Marlborough_, which I offered
to the two men whose society I most enjoyed. They were about my own
age, but took College life more seriously than I did. One gratefully
accepted the loan of the volumes, but the other answered gaily, “No,
I shall serve up Hamley, Hamley, nothing but Hamley; that always gets
me full marks.” When Colonel Hamley was succeeded by Colonel Chesney
on the conclusion of the first lecture, I went to my friend, who was
a wonderful précis writer, and said, “After this lecture, you will
have to think for yourself.” Charles Chesney’s ideas of teaching were
diametrically opposed to those of his predecessor. He mentioned the
salient points in the standard authorities who had written on the
campaign or battle, and then said, “And now, gentlemen, no doubt you
will be good enough to read all these authors and give me the advantage
of your studies.” The result showed my forecast was correct, for my
friend, the précis writer, who had hitherto got one or two marks out of
a hundred more than anyone else, now came down to our level.
At the end of 1864, many of my instructors having foretold I should
fail in the Final Examination, I settled down to work harder, and to
enjoy less hunting. The confinement, however, immediately affected my
nervous system, and the aurist under whose care I had placed myself
when I returned from India, wrote to the Commandant, unknown to me,
deprecating my undertaking any additional work. Colonel William Napier,
a son of one of the three distinguished Peninsular Napiers, had married
the daughter of Sir Charles Napier, the conqueror of Scinde; he had
been kind to me during my terms, and was a man of unusually broad
generous mind, for within three months of my joining, when acting as
President of a ball committee, I struck out the names of many of his
friends whom he had asked as public guests to the ball. Sending for me
to his office, he demanded an explanation, and I told him that none of
the people whose names I had omitted had ever invited anyone from the
College into their houses except himself, when he observed, “Please
send out the invitations in my name:” and it was done.
I had ridden successfully one of his horses which he found
uncontrollable, entirely from his habit of catching hold of the horse’s
mouth when approaching a fence. The horse was naturally a slow, nervous
fencer, but in the Commandant’s hands became so excitable that I have
seen him run backwards when checked on approaching a fence. I rode the
horse for a month, and then handing him back to the Commandant, he
enjoyed two days’ hunting, the horse jumping perfectly; but the third
day out he resumed his habit of rushing, with the result that the rider
got a broken leg. Later the horse came into my possession, and carried
me or one of my sisters for many years.
The Commandant sending for me, read my Medical attendant’s letter, and
telling me that the Professors thought I should probably fail to get
the aggregate number of marks, observed that he was himself leaving the
College to assume command of a brigade in Dublin, and as he knew all
about me from my two years’ residence at the College, he would be glad
to take me as his Aide-de-Camp, whether I passed or not, and suggested
I might avoid the worry, and possible annoyance of failure by not going
up for the Final Examination. I thanked the Commandant warmly, asking
for a fortnight to consider the question of the appointment, but said
at once that having looked at a fence for two years, I could not refuse
to go at it and cross it, and would sooner fail than not try.
I had a curious premonitory dream in the last week I spent at the
College. I thought I knew fairly well the usual questions on Bridging,
and had given but little time to it. I dreamt the night before I was to
be examined I could not describe General Eblé’s bridges made over the
Beresina for Napoleon’s retreat, and getting up studied it carefully,
from 1 to 3 a.m. It was the first question in our paper set at 10
a.m.! The Professors were mistaken, and having done better than anyone
anticipated in the Final Examination, I went over to Dublin at the end
of the year, and joined General William Napier.
The night after I arrived in Dublin I dined at the Mansion House, when
discussion was carried on across the table with a gentleman sitting
next to me about the Clones agency. It was impossible for me to avoid
hearing the conversation, and as a result of what I learnt that evening
I supervised for twenty-one years the management of my brother-in-law’s
estate, about 9000 Irish acres. Six months later, Sir Thomas Lennard,
who had married my second sister, went down with me to Clones, the
third time it had been visited by the owner for upwards of eighty
years, he having succeeded his grandfather, who lived to be nearly a
hundred years old.