JOINS VICEROY’S STAFF
What he Might Have Been--A Happy Exile--Lumtiddy Hall--Unsuccessful
Journey to Pay Calls--Appointed to Staff of Retiring Viceroy--First
Summer at Simla--Appointed A.D.C. to Lord Lytton--Annandale
Racecourse--Birth of _The Asian_--Dinner to Its Sporting
Owner--Winner of Viceroy’s Cup--Delhi Durbar, 1887--Mighty
Preparations--A Terrible Accident
It is easy to imagine with what mingled feelings Lord William left
England: relief at being freed from the money difficulties that
oppress a young man in a swagger regiment in this expensive old
country; affectionate regret for the splendid days that were done;
the happy family gatherings, before all were scattered; still
cherishing some of the ideals of youth to which there is always a
sacredness attached. Children usually build mental universes round
themselves, and at the age of twenty-eight hope has not died in the
heart; that child of happiness still keeps it warm. Lord William,
not being one of those who wear their heart on their sleeve, was of
the merriest on board ship, full of courage and good resolutions,
determined to map out his future on safer grounds than hitherto.
I have often heard it remarked that Lord William might have gained
and filled almost any great position in life that he chose, owing to
his talents, perseverance, and charm of manner, if it had not been
that he was obsessed by his passion for racing and horse-flesh. It
is said “he might have been a great soldier”; my reply is, _he was_.
Again: “He might have been a great statesman.” I reply, that in a
measure he was. To be the right-hand man of and Military Secretary
to three successive Viceroys, and a capable A.D.C. to three,
speaks for itself. What more could he desire, unless it was to be
Viceroy? which would not have appealed to him in the least. Some
of his friends have said they regretted his not having entered the
Diplomatic Service, which shows how little they understood him, for
nothing could have been less attractive to him, or more foreign to
his nature, than a life of trying to make black look white; though an
adept at bamboozling people for their own advantage, and smoothing
rough corners for their happiness, to bamboozle them to their
detriment, and smile with the face of a truthful prophet while so
doing, would have been impossible to him; also he was much too loyal
for that profession, who proverbially, as a class, are not given to
standing by one another. Any question that he had to decide he would
gladly have done with his fists, or sword, but not by parliamentary
inexactitudes. Besides, who among those who knew him would have liked
to see him any different from what he was?
India appealed to Lord William, he liked it from the first. Perhaps
he, more than some, felt the loneliness inseparable from landing
in a strange country for the first time, with a career to make out
of nothing; far from the help and glamour of home associations,
feeling rather like goods on a market stall, from which the ticket
describing their merit and value has fallen, leaving the said goods
to prove their own merit, and so create their own price.
Starting a life in any new country, individuals are only a number
to begin with. Yet India is one of the kindest to strangers, there
is something in the atmosphere that melts the Northern “stand-off”
attitude. All are exiles, which forms a bond of sympathy, uniting
them into one big family, so to speak. It is good for all to
find their own level; travelling assists them, gives them a new
education. There is much to be learned in a large mixed cosmopolitan
concentration, where princes, rajahs, judges, generals, police,
subalterns who know everything, old men who believe nothing,
middle-aged men who suspect everything, all rub shoulders, look well
groomed and comfortable, yet all with the same longing for home in
their hearts.
At Bombay, Lord William met his brother, Lord Charles, then in
attendance on the Prince of Wales; this meeting was a great pleasure
and took the chill off the landing.
Sialkôte is a pleasant station, more shady than many, boasting fine
trees and a certain amount of vegetation. A charming bungalow was
secured and shared by Captain Clayton and Lord William. These stable
companions were greatly attached to one another; the former had a
good influence over his wild-spirited friend, who quite recognised
and appreciated the fact.
[Illustration: LORD WILLIAM BERESFORD AND CAPTAIN CLAYTON]
The bungalow was christened “Lumtiddy Hall.” In the photograph the
tenants are seen sitting in the verandah, the servants standing
outside. I do not know why people always collect their servants
and stand them round the front door in India when having photographs
taken. It is not the habit at home. I think it must be with a view
to introducing the drapery and surroundings of our new lives to our
relations elsewhere to whom we send the pictures, more than anything
else. At any rate everyone does it, and the native servants like it;
indeed now I come to think of it, I am not sure that it is not an
arrangement of their own.
Some of the things I shall have to touch on will not be new, I dare
say, to readers familiar with India, but there are other friends
of Lord William’s to whom the customs and etiquettes are unknown;
they may like to have some idea of his life, duties, pleasures and
general surroundings, also the way he fulfilled his obligations.
Among the latter I must not forget to mention the dutiful way he and
his brother officer, Mr. Charles Lascelles, started paying calls
after the fashion of the country. Armed with an alarmingly long list,
they rode out determinedly from the mess on their ponies. The first
bungalow they came to, where they intended to pay their respects,
had straw laid down along the road and up to the door. Lord William
pulled up, frowning wisely: “We had better call here another day,” he
announced, after deep thought. “Why?” asked Mr. Lascelles innocently.
“My dear fellow! don’t you see all this straw down? Someone must be
ill; having a baby or something most likely,” replied the sage.
Horrified at the thought, and impressed by his friend’s knowledge and
insight, Mr. Lascelles agreed fervently, and they rode on to the
next bungalow. Here again they found straw laid down.
“Surely they can’t all be doing the same thing at once, can they?”
said the astonished Mr. Lascelles.
“You can never be sure what they do out here,” replied the other. “In
any case you can’t be too careful.” So they rode on.
To their amazement they found straw at each bungalow, so they
returned to the mess to announce the discreet reasons for their
failure. The mess was delighted, and it was not till some time after
that the two were informed that the straw was there to prevent the
prevailing dust from entering the bungalows.
New-comers in India find the rules appertaining to paying calls
at times amusing. The first thing that appears strange is the
conventional calling hours, being among the hottest in the day, when
quite possibly the people being called on are trying to keep cool
by lying in baths or under punkahs. A clatter of hoofs is heard,
followed by a voice shouting, “Qui Hie!” which means “Somebody.”
There ought to be a servant or two sitting on the verandah, but at
times they are not to be found, their beloved hubble-bubbles having
enticed them away. So the callers continue riding round the house
shouting for “Somebody” plaintively until “Somebody” is found, and
a few well-chosen words addressed to him in the visitor’s best
Hindustani. Calling out there is altogether an unconventional art.
[Illustration: “LUMTIDDY HALL”]
I remember once at Sitapur, where all the officers of a newly arrived
battery of artillery dutifully called on us, with exception of
a Mr. Ross, who happened to be a particular friend of my husband,
so that his non-appearance caused us some surprise. At last he came
and apologised for not having been before by saying that he had been
awaiting his turn for the calling suit of clothes. Being youngest,
his turn came last! Poor soul; he was afterwards frozen to death in
the Afghan War. Found dead, still sitting erect on his horse.
To return to Lord William; India was not long in finding out that a
good sportsman and a judge of racing had arrived in its midst. Before
many weeks had passed he had made himself felt, and was to be seen
officiating as judge at some pony races. His first appearance in the
pig-skin was in October of the same year (1875), when he rode a raw,
hard-mouthed horse named Clarion for a friend in the Grand Military
Chase, having amongst his opponents that well-known splendid horseman
Frank Johnson, who won on a horse called Ring, Clarion being third.
After this he continued to ride a number of mounts for friends and
acquaintances.
It was about this time that Lord William was appointed A.D.C. on
the staff of the retiring Viceroy, Lord Northbrook, who was being
succeeded by Lord Lytton, one of Disraeli’s appointments. While
learning his new duties at Calcutta, Lord William did a little
racing, winning the Corinthian Purse on a black Waler called
Dandynong, for his friend Captain Davidson, the Prince of Wales being
present at the time. It did not take him long to master the duties of
an A.D.C. or to become popular, for he really commenced a new era in
the social life of India. Things began to hum, and everyone began to
enjoy the races, dances, picnics and paper-chases he inaugurated. He
was soon surrounded with friends.
When Lord Lytton took over the Viceroyalty he retained Lord William
as A.D.C. on his staff. In April of that year, Colonel Colley, who
was Military Secretary to the Viceroy, wrote, in a letter to Lady
Lytton: “Lord William Beresford is full of fun and go, and is being
placed in charge of the stables.” So he was already doing the work
and fitting into the corner for which he was so admirably suited.
The summer of ’76 was spent at Simla, his first introduction to the
place where he was to spend so many summers of his life.
In a letter written home at this time, he speaks of being happy with
the Lyttons, and pleasure at having the management of the horses.
[Illustration: 9TH LANCERS’ MESS, SIALKÔTE, 1876]
Lady Lytton, referring to this time, says: “I noted that Lord William
managed the stables admirably, and our coachman Wilson was very
happy under him”; from which it may be inferred that Wilson was a
good servant, or he would not have been happy under Lord William’s
eye, for he was very particular, and would not be content unless
everything was properly turned out and in perfect order. It may
not be generally known that only three people are allowed to have
carriages in Simla, namely, the Viceroy, the Commander-in-Chief
and the Chief Commissioner of the North-West Provinces. The
Viceregal party are often the only ones to avail themselves of this
privilege. The rule sounds a little selfish and high-handed, but
it is explained by the fact that there is only one road where
it is possible to drive, and that one is very circumscribed. The
inhabitants of the station live in houses dotted about the hillside,
approached in many cases by scrambling paths, up which people have
to be carried in janpans (a sort of chair slung on bamboo poles and
carried by four bearers), ride, or in a rickshaw, a sort of bath
chair pulled by native servants.
Carriages are therefore white elephants in the hills; and even for
riding it is necessary to have sure-footed and quiet ponies.
There are so many books dealing with Indian life I feel that it
is rather superfluous to explain that the official residence of
the Government is, during the summer, at Simla, and at Calcutta in
winter. Lord Lawrence, the Viceroy in 1863, first started Simla
as the official summer residence, taking all his assistants and
council with him, the reason that this particular station was chosen
being that it was the only place in the Himalayas, or indeed any
of the Indian mountains, where there was sufficient accommodation
for the followers in his train. It was also easy of access and had
a good road to it, compared with those of the other hill stations.
Of course, like most innovations, it met with a certain amount of
grumbling from those who considered they could have chosen a better
spot, and each successive administrator tried to go one better by
suggesting some other place. Up to now, no other place has been found
more suitable, so it may be taken for granted that Lord Lawrence
made a wise choice. Anything less like a government house, at that
time, than the Viceregal Lodge, rejoicing in the name of Peterhoff,
it would be difficult to imagine, being nothing more or less than a
glorified bungalow, standing on the edge of what in England we should
call a precipice, and in India a hillside or khud, and with very
little ground round it.
Having heard that there was a racecourse, Lord William, in his
first spare moments, went to see it, finding this dignified title
applied to a small, more or less flat piece of ground lying between
two hills, the roads to it being zigzag paths, hollowed out by the
mountain torrents during the winter and monsoon, to which a little
assistance was given by the authorities to make them safe. No
carriage could get there, nevertheless this little spot was a source
of joy and health to many, for here every Saturday races were held,
occasional cricket matches, and other health and pleasure giving
exercises, to which all the inhabitants and visitors thronged. All
the world and his wife used to go, also other people’s wives, for
there are always any number of grace widows in the hill stations,
whose husbands are unable to get leave to accompany them, or at any
rate only for a short time. Annandale was the name of this little
basin where the races were run at that time. I was introduced to it
a few years later, and thought its primitiveness added to its charm.
There was no such a thing as a grand stand, or even an un-grand one.
People sat about on the hillside to watch the racing. There was a
small shed, if I remember rightly, where Reigning Royalty could
shelter, should the necessity arise, which formed a sort of holy of
holies where they could carry out the exclusiveness necessary to
their position, so odious and trying to many of them.
Now there is a gorgeous thing in pavilions, as will be seen by the
photograph, but I do not feel any ambition to go there, liking the
memory of Annandale as it was in earlier times too well to have any
desires for buildings comfortable or otherwise, in that historic
little corner. After a race meeting there was a general scramble up
the hillside again to dress for dinner and the evening’s amusements,
of which there were plenty; Lord William took care of that;
theatricals, dances, concerts, Christy Minstrel performances, and at
times quite classic and dignified oratorios, besides endless private
parties and social gatherings.
Government House has to fulfil its obligations, and give a certain
number of dances and parties, so has the Commander-in-Chief and the
Governor of the North-West Provinces, this being one of the things
they are out there for. Some live up to the letter of the law, so
to speak, others are full of hospitality and private enterprise,
especially those with young people of their own out there with them.
On August 6th there were great rejoicings, a son being born to Lord
Lytton, who was away in the hills at the time in connection with
his work. Lady Lytton, in a letter speaking of the many kindnesses
of their A.D.C., says: “Lord William rode twenty-six miles to Fagoo
with letters (to Lord Lytton), and brought me back the answers
and congratulations the same evening,” which is just the kindly
sympathetic thing he would do.
The work and responsibility attached to the life of a Viceroy
is great and anxious. It is well that he should have sympathetic
workers under him who will relieve him, as much as possible, of all
unnecessary worries and anxieties. Lord William felt this keenly, and
all the Viceroys he served under expressed their gratitude for his
never-failing thoughtfulness and unselfish devotion.
When it is realised that this one man, with his handful of
councillors, keeps in touch with 207,000,000 Brahmins, 9,000,000
Buddhists, 62,000,000 Mohammedans, 2,000,000 Sikhs, 1,300,000
Janns, 94,000 Zoroastrians (Parsees) and 8,000 Jews, not counting
the 8,000,000 of the aboriginal tribes whose religion I do not
know, considers all their grievances, studies carefully all their
superstitions and traditional etiquettes, managing to keep all more
or less happy, it seems a superhuman task.
That such comparative contentment reigns is eloquent of the amount of
thought and care devoted to the smallest detail of government. Lord
Lytton came to the country knowing little of it or its people, but
quickly made a study of both, and was deeply interested.
It has always struck me that Lord Lytton’s way of expressing himself
was exceptionally charming. His letters home, and to the Queen during
anxious times, are delightful to read. Lord William described him as
a most considerate Chief, and regretted that he was not stronger,
as he was so keen, and worked so hard, that he exhausted himself.
The years of the Lytton administration were full of anxious and busy
times.
In October, Lord William found time to ride a race or two at Dehra,
winning one, thanks to good judgment and riding, on Red Eagle for a
friend, also the Doon Chase on Commodore for Captain Maunsell.
A little later, at Umballa, he rode for Mr. George Thomas, and won a
hurdle race on Fireman. On returning to Calcutta from Simla he was
elected a steward of the Calcutta races, having already joined the
Turf Club. Among the other stewards for the year were Lord Ulick
Browne, the Hon. W. F. McDonnell, and Captain Ben Roberts.
It is a matter of regret that in the early years of Lord William’s
sojourn in India, there was practically no sporting paper to
chronicle his many endeavours and triumphs; the only thing of the
kind being a rather superannuated _Oriental Sporting Magazine_,
which was more or less in a moribund condition, although run by good
sportsmen, some of whom were, perhaps, growing a little out of touch
with the views of the rising generation. It was not until 1878 that
_The Asian_ was started as a sporting venture, by an energetic person
called Mr. William Targett, who, though he knew nothing about horses,
felt that he was filling a long-standing want, which the success of
his paper proved to have been a correct and business-like surmise.
The paper may still be doing useful work for all I know, although it
has lost its original and popular proprietor, whom Lord William liked
so well. While speaking of _The Asian_ and Mr. Targett I think the
following little story is interesting.
Mr. Targett was at home in 1894 on one of the holidays he allowed
himself every three years. The time was drawing near for his return
to India, so some of his oldest friends in this country convened a
little “au revoir” banquet at the Victoria Club in Wellington Street.
Fully a hundred sat down, all good sportsmen hail-fellow-well-met.
Mr. Targett was evidently much pleased at the kindly feeling that
had prompted his friends to give him this send-off. All were in
their places except the intended president. Suddenly the door flew
open and the voice of the arranger of this merry meeting announced:
“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce your chairman, Lord William
Beresford.” Many present knew he was in England, but few that he
was in London, therefore little did they expect his presence. This
surprise was arranged between Lord William and Mr. Meyrick (the
well-known writer of “Sporting Notes” in the _Sporting Times_) with a
view to giving the proprietor of _The Asian_ pleasure.
Mr. William Targett was delighted, and grasped his lordship’s hand,
saying: “What, you here, Bill!” The quick reply came: “Yes, Bill; I’m
here and so pleased at the invitation!” Wherever Lord William was,
there it was lively, and this feast lasted three good hours, until he
was obliged to keep what he referred to as an “austere appointment,”
but at the end of his response to the toast of his health he took
the whole room into his confidence with the concluding sentence:
“Gentlemen, while you are thinking about your Christmas dinner,
Targett and myself, with good luck, hope to be on the Calcutta
racecourse; and I must tell you that this week I have, I think,
purchased the winner of the Viceroy Cup--Metallic--for my old friend
Orr-Ewing. Good night and good luck to you all.”
One jubilant and well-known Umballian present shouted: “I am betting
on the Viceroy’s Cup. Who wants to back his lordship’s tip?” He
quickly found customers. The recounter of this story to me added that
he risked a little bit, and was pleased to find on the following
Christmas week that Metallic had won, and he therefore the better off
by a “tenner.” It was kind of Lord William to find time to give his
little Calcutta friend this pleasant surprise, considering that every
one of his own friends and relations were clamouring for his time.
But to return to 1876 in the East. At the close of the year, all
official India, and a great deal of the unofficial, gathered at Delhi
for the Proclamation of the Queen as Empress of India on January 1st,
1877. This entailed unceasing work on the Vice-regal staff, and all
Government officials, both civil and military. The assemblage was to
last fourteen days, and the heads of every departmental government in
India were to be present, besides 14,000 troops, seventy-seven ruling
princes and chiefs, and 68,000 people were invited and actually
stayed in or around Delhi.
Only those who have been in the vicinity of, or engaged in, the
preparations for any big gathering in India can imagine for a
moment the amount of galloping and fuss, the thraldom of official
red tape and etiquette to be punctiliously observed, the number of
contradictory orders, the hurt feelings and notes of explanation that
are flying about; most of this galloping, between head-quarters and
heads of departments, being carried out by the A.D.C.’s.
At last everything was growing shipshape, and people left off saying,
“I told you so,” even began to smile furtively once more, for all
was in readiness. The Rajahs’ gardens were laid out elaborately
round their different tents and camps, each vying with the other
to have the best and most attractive display. The elephants had
arrived and were amiable and docile. The Rajahs’ horses in readiness,
with magenta tails and gorgeous trappings. The jewels laid out and
counted. Everything, in fact, ready for the great day. Therefore
a little relaxation was considered consistent with good form on
the part of the staff and officers in waiting for the great event,
consequently a game of polo was arranged for Christmas Day.
This chance game, a thing born of a few spare hours in the midst of
the pomp and glitter of Eastern rejoicing, was destined to prove the
blackest sorrow of Lord William’s life. Captain Clayton had become
to Lord William, what is perhaps the most irreplaceable thing in the
world, his best friend, and during this game their ponies cannoned
into one another. Captain Clayton’s fell; its rider was picked up
unconscious, and died the same night.
[Illustration: THE DELHI DURBAR, 1877]
Poor Lord William was wild with grief, and Captain De la Garde
Grissell, an old friend and brother officer of his, who was in the
camp with the 11th Hussars, was sent for to the Viceroy’s camp to
stay with Lord William during the night. Captain Eustace Vesey and
Captain Charles Muir sat up with Captain Clayton until he died at
midnight. Captain Grissell tells me that they were so anxious
that none should do anything for their dear friend but those who
had known and cared for him, that he and Captain Vesey made all
the arrangements--in India everything has to be carried out so
swiftly. There was no undertaker, so a soldier made the coffin and
Captain Grissell himself screwed down the lid, both he and Captain
Vesey being greatly overcome. The funeral was next day, and a most
impressive sight, all the troops at the Durbar taking part. A
military funeral is at all times impressive, indeed harrowing, to
those who mourn the loss of one who has shared their lives, but it
becomes doubly so when the circumstances have been so tragic. He was
buried in the graveyard behind the ridge held so long by us during
the Mutiny, and he lies with the 9th Lancers who fell at that time
and are buried close by.
All the rest of the time Lord William was in India he used to go away
by himself on the anniversary of that terrible accident and visit his
friend’s grave. So great had the grief been to him that he always
felt that he must be alone on that day; alone with his grief and the
spirit of his old friend. He did not want to speak; not because there
is anything in life too sacred to say or tell, but much too sacred to
parody. But the world and all its shows will not stand still for us
while we grieve, and Lord William with his good pluck struggled to
perform his duties at the Durbar, working so hard that he only had
time for a couple of hours’ sleep out of the twenty-four. The strain
was too much for him, and he fainted while sitting on his horse and
had to be carried away.
His heart and courage were always too big for his body and strength.
Captain Clayton had been his life-long friend, and what made him feel
it even more, was the thought that through his pal’s death he had
gained his troop.
The actual Durbar appears to have been a success, and the Maharajahs
and Princes were so pleased that they each wished to present a
bejewelled crown to the Empress Queen, but Lord Lytton, with some of
his well-chosen phrases, expressed appreciation, and explained that
it would not be expedient, for in the first place the Queen would
have a crown for nearly every day in the year, and secondly, it
might lead to jealousy and heart bitterness, better avoided, which
explanation appeared to be conclusive and void of offence.
On Friday, January 6th, Lord Lytton held a review of all the troops,
preceded by a march past of those attached to the native Princes in
Delhi.
At this time Lord William was still hard at work studying the
etiquettes, ritual, superstitions, religions, and dignified
ceremonials so dear to the heart of Orientals, who are all great
observers of ceremony. The study fascinated him, and proved of great
use later in assisting those he worked for; knowing what to avoid
and where to give pleasure. No one can hope to fill any responsible
position in India who has not studied and had long education in these
matters, and this was so quickly grasped by Lord William, that to the
end of his days the Rajahs were among his most faithful friends and
admirers.
By January 15th the Viceroy was back in Calcutta, and Lord
William riding in races again. He had one of his bad falls in a
steeplechase, hurting his nose considerably, besides receiving other
injuries. As usual he tried to make light of them, but collapsed and
had to be carried home.
Before closing this chapter it will be interesting both to Captain
Clayton’s and Lord William’s friends who may not already be
acquainted with the fact to know that there is a marble tablet in the
church at Curraghmore, placed there by the fifth Marquis of Waterford:
In affectionate remembrance of
William Clayton Clayton,
Captain, 9th Lancers.
For many years the dearest friend of the House of
Curraghmore.
Born April 23rd, 1839. Killed while playing polo
at Delhi, Christmas Day, 1876.
Another instance of the respect and affection with which Captain
Clayton was regarded at Harrow-on-the-Hill, where he was educated.
There is a white marble cross in the churchyard, the inscription on
the base being:--
In loving memory of
William Clayton Clayton,
Captain, 9th Queen’s Own Royal Lancers.
Born April 23rd, 1839.
Killed while playing polo at Delhi, India, Dec., 1876.
Oh, the merry laughing comrade,
Oh, the true and kindly friend,
Growing hopes and lofty courage,
Love and life and this the end!
He the young and strong who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the March of Life.
So great was the feeling of loss at his death that old friends,
Harrovians, soldiers, and indeed those of all classes who knew him,
wished to do something to perpetuate his name, and decided to found
a scholarship. Subscriptions flowed in, and in 1881 the Clayton
Scholarship was founded, valued £40 a year, tenable for three years
at Harrow School.
Lasting affection of this kind is not inspired by any but good men,
and speaks better for the character of the individual than any words
of mine, for words are poor impotent things. England, prolific though
she be in men of courage and manliness, can ill spare one of her sons
when of the nature of Captain Clayton, whose influence was everywhere
for good.