THE DASHING HUSSAR
When Baden-Powell turned his back on Charterhouse it was with the
intention of proceeding to Oxford. Professor Jowett, who, by the bye,
was the godfather of Baden, begged our hero to pay him a visit as soon
as he left school, and when on this visit the Master heard that B.-P.
could only spare two years for Oxford, he said, "Then Christ Church is
the college for you, because at Balliol I like each man to remain
three or four years, and go in for honours finally." So Ste made plans
for going to Christ Church, was examined, accepted for the following
term, and Dean Liddell arranged about rooms for him in the House. But
ere B.-P. went up, an Army examination came on, and, "just for fun,"
up went our indefatigable hero with a light heart and no other thought
in his mind than the determination to do his level best. The result
of this happy-go-lucky entrance for examination was the unlooked-for
success of our "unbruised youth with unstuffed brain," who passed
second out of seven hundred and eighteen candidates, among whom, by
the way, were twenty-eight University candidates. As a reward for his
brilliancy, B.-P. was informed by the Duke of Cambridge that his
commission would be ante-dated two years.
Until this memorable event Baden-Powell had expressed no special
predilection for soldiering. His chief desire had been to go in for
some profession that would take him abroad and show him the world. The
first service which seemed to attract him definitely at all was the
Indian Woods and Forests, and this chiefly on account of a burning
desire to roam about the gorgeous East. It was only when an elder
brother suggested that, if he wanted to see India and other countries
as well, he might be better suited in the Army, that this born soldier
gave any indication of his desire for a military career. And only with
the Army examination successfully conquered did he seriously begin to
think of uniforms and swords and the glamour of a soldier's life.
On the 11th September 1876 Baden-Powell joined the 13th Hussars in
India, and one of his first acts was to take from his baggage an
ocarina, and having assembled all the European children he could find
in the station, to march at their head through the streets of Lucknow,
playing with great feeling, which suffered, however, a little from his
all-comprehensive grin, "The Girl I Left Behind Me." In this manner he
signalised his arrival, earning the undying love of every English
mother in the place, and infusing into the gallant 13th Hussars
(_Viret in Æternum!_) fresh vigour and fresh spirit.
The 13th Hussars, Sir Baker Russell's old regiment, boasts a fine
record, and the songs in the canteen at night will tell you how the
regiment rode on the right of the line at Balaclava, when it was known
to fame as the 13th Light Dragoons. One of these songs begins:--
Six hundred stalwart warriors, of England's pride the best,
Did grasp the lance and sabre on Balaclava's crest,
And with their trusty leader, Lord Cardigan the brave,
Charged up to spike the Russian guns--or find a soldier's grave.
And the refrain, which every man present sings with a face as solemn
as my Lord Chancellor sitting on the Woolsack half an hour longer
than usual, runs in this fashion:--
Oh, 'tis a famous story; proclaim it far and wide,
And let your children's children re-echo it with pride,
How Cardigan the fearless his name immortal made,
When he crossed the Russian valley with his famous Light Brigade.
This is the great glory of the regiment, the knowledge of which makes
the recruit blow his chest out another inch and straightway purchase
out of his pay spurs that jingle more musically when he goes abroad
than the miserable things served out by an unromantic Government.
Other legends there are in this regiment, and once Baden-Powell and
his great friend, Captain MacLaren (known to the officers as "The
Boy," to the men as "The Little Prince"), set about compiling its
history; but for some reason or another that work has not yet
appeared, and since its inception B.-P. has deserted to the
Dragoons--_Vestigia nulla retrorsum!_
Baden-Powell became popular with his brother-officers directly he
joined. It was his freshness, his overflowing good spirits, his hearty
and unmistakable enjoyment of life, that first won their regard. The
boy suddenly dropped into their midst was no blasé youth, no mere
swaggering puppy. He was afire with the joy of existence, radiant with
happiness, excited--and not ashamed to show it--by all the newness and
fascination of Indian life. The Major screwed his eye-glass into his
eye and smiled encouragingly; the Adjutant measured him with peg to
his lip and knew he would do. Every one felt that the new sub was an
acquisition.
But it must not be supposed that there was any "bounce" about the new
boy. Apart from his breeding and training, which would effectually
prevent a man from committing the unpardonable sin of the social
world, Baden-Powell by nature was, and still is, a little bashful.
There are people who pooh-pooh the very idea of such a thing, and
declare that the man they have heard act and sing and play the fool is
no more nervous than a bishop among curates. Nevertheless they are
wrong; and your humble servant entirely right. B.-P., like the other
members of his family, suffers from nervousness, and when he goes on
the stage to act, and sits down at the piano to "vamp," it is a sheer
triumph of will over nerves. He is not nervous under the wide and
starry sky, not bashful when he pricks his horse into the long grass
of the veldt and bears down upon a bunch of bloodthirsty savages, not
nervous when he gets a child on his knee all by himself and tells her
delightful stories,--but nervous as a boy on his first day at school
when he finds himself being lionised in a drawing-room, or picked out
of the ruck of guests for any particular notice. And so when he joined
the 13th, behind the ebullient spirits was this innate bashfulness,
which, added to the natural modesty of a gentleman, kept his animal
spirits in a delightful simmer, and found favour for him in the eyes
of his superior officers. How they discovered B.-P.'s quality as a
humourist happened in this way. A day or two after he joined there was
an entertainment of some sort going on in barracks, and during a pause
Sir Baker Russell turned round to Baden-Powell, and said, "Here, young
'un, you can play a bit, I'm sure"; and up went Baden-Powell to the
piano, as if obeying an order. In a few minutes the whole place was in
a roar, and, as one of the officers told me, the regiment recognised
that in B.-P. they had got "a born buffoon, but a devilish clever
fellow."
[Illustration: The Dashing Hussar.
(B.-P. at 21.)]
Concerning B.-P. as an actor, it is characteristic of the
thoroughness with which he does everything that he always draws and
redraws any character he may be playing until he is perfectly
satisfied with the dress and make-up; some of these drawings have been
captured by his brother-officers, and are greatly treasured.
Soon after joining he began to show his quality as a sportsman. In
that regiment of fine riders it has always been hard to shine at polo
or tent-pegging, or heads-and-posts, but there was no mistaking the
perfect horseman in B.-P. when he got into the saddle, with the eyes
of the regiment upon him. Few men ride more gracefully. His seat, of
course, is entirely free from that ramrod stiffness which some of the
Irregular Cavalry cultivate with such painful assiduity; he sits
easily and gracefully, so easily that you might fancy a rough horse
would set him bobbing and slipping like a cockney astride a donkey on
the sands. But with all the ease and grace, there is strength there,
such as would wear down the nastiest of bad brutes. The leg that looks
so lightly and gracefully posed grips like steel, and the pressure
increases relentlessly the more the horse quarrels with his rider.
Many a time has Baden-Powell taken in hand young horses which have
defied the efforts of the rough-riding Sergeant-Major, and so far as I
can gather there was never a case of the horse beating the rider. His
skill as a breaker of horses deserves especial mention because of the
characteristic manner in which it is done. By simply sticking in the
saddle, and gripping with his legs, he wears down the horse's
opposition, silently matching his powers of endurance against the
tricks and tempers of the unruly member. Seldom does whip or spur come
into play when Baden-Powell is fighting for the mastery with an
undisciplined horse.
But while he was proving himself a good sportsman, B.-P. was getting
to know about soldiering, paying great attention to regimental work
and loyally working to please his captains. Not only did he devote
himself to the ordinary routine of regimental work, but in spare
moments he began to read up special subjects, and it seems only
natural that one of the first of these subjects should be Topography.
The result of this labour was that in 1878 Baden-Powell passed the
Garrison Class, taking a First Class and Extra Certificate (Star) for
Topography. During the lectures he distinguished himself by making
inimitable caricatures, for which he was sometimes taken to task by
the authorities. Also he could not help poking fun at the examiners in
the papers themselves. Asked, "Do you know why so-and-so, and
so-and-so?" Baden-Powell would write an interrogative "No."
After distinguishing himself in this way, B.-P. came back to England,
in order to go through the Musketry Course at Hythe. Here he did
equally well, taking a First Class Extra Certificate, and a year after
we find him as Musketry Instructor at Quetta. But this book is not
intended to be a "biography" of Baden-Powell, and I shall beg leave to
relate no chronological record of his military career. We are telling
his story as a story, hoping to interest every English schoolboy who
has arrived at years of discretion, hoping to make them keen on sport,
keen on exercise, keen on open-air life, and hoping, in addition, to
be of real practical use to those whose eyes are now set hungrily on
Sandhurst.
In a later chapter it will be seen how Baden-Powell interested himself
in his men's welfare, and how he encouraged them to become real
soldiers--learned in things other than mere boot-cleaning and
button-polishing. Here we behold him as the gay and dashing Hussar, a
bold sportsman, a keen soldier, and one of the most popular men in
India.
His popularity, it is only fair to say, was earned very largely by
that gift for acting which had won him fame as a schoolboy. Whispers
that he was going to act in the _Area Belle_, or one of Gilbert and
Sullivan's operas, travelled with amazing rapidity from station to
station in India, and every performance in which he took part was
attended by all the Europeans for miles round. Indeed his fame as an
actor travelled so far afield that the manager of a London theatre
wrote to him in India offering our astonished hero a position in his
company at a salary of ten pounds a week! There is never an occasion
when B.-P. is not willing to get up theatricals. A few months after
the siege of Kandahar he arranged for a performance of _The Pirates of
Penzance_ in that barbarous city, making himself responsible for the
entire management. The dresses were excellent, the stage and scenery
good, and the opera was received with intense enthusiasm; and yet
there was not a single European woman there; all the dresses and
costumes were the work of B.-P., who himself appeared in the character
of Ruth! On another occasion, when _Trial by Jury_ was to be given, it
was discovered at the last moment, to the consternation of every one
except B.-P., that there were no Royal arms. In a few hours he
produced what I am assured was the most splendid and gorgeous national
emblazonry that ever sparkled behind footlights. He had collected a
few crude paints from the natives of the district, and had painted the
arms with an old shaving-brush. Such is his resourcefulness. And what
of his enthusiasm? When he was home in England on sick-leave he sent
out to the 13th Hussars the book of _Les Cloches de Corneville_, with
excellent sketches of the dresses and hints as to its staging. Again,
he has been known to get off a sick-bed in India in order to take part
in some entertainment for the amusement of soldiers.
It was shortly after the successful performance of _The Pirates of
Penzance_, and after the evacuation of Kandahar, that Baden-Powell
very nearly succeeded in putting an end to himself. He was toying with
a pistol, in the firm conviction that it was unloaded, when, to his
intense indignation, the thing went off and planted a bullet in the
calf of his leg. It might have been a more romantically dangerous
wound, but it was quite sufficiently uncomfortable. Even now, on any
serious change in the weather, B.-P. is unpleasantly reminded of this
adventure in far Afghanistan by rebellious throbbing in the old wound.
On his return from Kandahar Baden-Powell was appointed Adjutant and
Musketry Inspector to his regiment, and he is spoken of by one who was
himself adjutant of this fine regiment for many years as one of the
best adjutants in the world. Shortly after this his uncle, General
Smyth, Commandant at Woolwich, offered him the tempting appointment of
A.D.C., but Baden-Powell preferred India and his regiment, and
declined. Life in India suited Master Ste. It provided him with a
great deal of real soldiering, much sport, and made him acquainted
with one of the most fascinating countries in the world. After he got
his troop, he became Brigade-Major to Sir Baker Russell's Cavalry
Brigade at Meerut Camp of Exercise, and was appointed Station
Staff-Officer and Cantonment Magistrate at Muttra. With all these
duties he found time for sketching and writing, publishing
_Reconnaissance and Scouting_, and sending many interesting sketches
to the _Graphic_. It may not be out of place here to mention that
Baden-Powell, among other parts, has played the War Correspondent,
working once in that character for the _Daily Chronicle_, and with
considerable success.
That Baden-Powell was a marked man early in his career is attested by
the fact of his being chosen as a member of the Board for formulating
Cavalry regulations at Simla in 1884. He was eminently a business-man,
a managing man, and all his work in the army has been marked by those
excellent qualities which go to the making of our great merchant
princes. He is shrewd, practical, and what he says is always to the
point. His despatches are admirable examples of what such documents
should be, never saying a word too much, and yet leaving his meaning
clear-cut and unmistakable. For such work he finds a model in the
despatch of Captain Walton, who, under Admiral Byng, destroyed the
entire Spanish fleet off Passaro: "Sir,--We have taken or destroyed all
the Spanish ships on this coast; number as per margin.--Respectfully
yours, G. Walton, _Captain_." Says Baden-Powell, "There is no
superfluous verbosity there."
But do not let us lose sight altogether of Baden-Powell as the
whimsical humourist. There are two stories in the regiment which
reveal him in this light very nicely. He was once walking with a
friend on the esplanade of some English seaside place, and the day was
piping hot. Suddenly, without explanation of any kind, B.-P. sat
himself down on the kerb, placed his billycock hat solemnly on his
knees, and buried his face in a flaming red handkerchief. This
unprecedented sight stirred the depths of the one and only policeman's
heart, and he strode valiantly across the road, prepared to do his
duty at all costs. Touching B.-P. upon the shoulder with his white
cotton glove, the constable demanded, in a deep voice, "Arnd, whaät's
the matter wi' you, eh?" Slowly removing the handkerchief from his
eyes, and with a perfectly solemn face, B.-P. explained that he had
just at that moment tumbled out of his nurse's arms and that the silly
woman had gone on without noticing it. And the other story: being told
rather rudely at a picture exhibition in Manchester that he must go
back to the hall and leave his stick with the porter, B.-P. walked
briskly away, but presently returned, with his stick, hobbling
painfully along--a man to whom a walking-stick was veritably a staff
of life. The rude official bit his lip and looked the other way.
When the regiment was at Muttra, Baden-Powell lived in a house which
boasted a very large compound, and this he dignified by the name of
"Bloater Park." At that time it was the habit to speak about men as
"this old bloater" and "that old bloater," and the expression so
tickled B.-P. that he adopted the name for his lordly compound.
Letters would actually reach him from England solemnly addressed to
Bloater Park.
Life at this time--if we except the 1887 operations against Dinizulu
in Africa, when B.-P. was Assistant Military Secretary, and commanded
a column in attack--was for the most part humdrum, and only enlivened
by theatricals and shooting expeditions. But B.-P. was ever interested
in his men, and planned sports and entertainments for them, which
always kept him fully occupied. A friend of his going to call on him
in Seaforth, where B.-P. was commanding a squadron, was astonished to
find a Maypole in the centre of the dingy barrack square, round which
mounted men rode merrily, each with a coloured ribbon in his hand. On
questioning the commander, the visitor discovered that there was a
deserving charity in Liverpool, and that B.-P. was getting up a
military display on its behalf.
Before leaving this subject, let us mention that Baden-Powell was
Brigade-Major to the Heavy Brigade at the Jubilee Review of 1887, that
he was sent by Lord Wolseley to arrange about machine guns for cavalry
use at Aldershot, that he was Secretary to the British Commission at
Swaziland in 1888, and in the same year was elected a member of the
United States Cavalry Association. One of his most important staff
appointments was that of Assistant Military Secretary to the Governor
of Malta, where his work for the amelioration of the soldiers' and
sailors' lives produced lasting benefits.
His work as a regimental officer will be more fully dealt with in a
later chapter.