HE WINS THE V.C.
Hero of Khartoum’s Fame and Tragedy, as Private Secretary--Indian
Famine--Lord William and the Jowakis--A Month’s Holiday
in Afghanistan--Back in Calcutta--Barrackpore Monument
to Lady Canning--Lady Waterford as Artiste--Cawnpore
Memorial--Racing--Trouble in South Africa--A Favour Granted--Off
to the War--A Friend Left in Charge of Affairs--Some Fights for
Queen and Country--Some Fights for Private Reasons--Exciting
Moments--Irish Bravery of Man and Beast--Two V.C.’s at
Dinner--Receives Reward at Hands of the Queen-Empress--A Shower
Bath in Dublin--Some Racing and a Row--A Thrice-run Race--Miller
Addresses Lord William
It is not possible to give a correct idea of Lord William’s life in
India without briefly mentioning the chief measures proposed and
carried out during the different Viceroys’ administrations.
He, of course, made it a point of honour never to criticise or
express any opinion on the policy or private lives of those he worked
for, but being so intimately connected with the Viceregal Court,
both in his official capacity and as a valued friend, all movements,
military or civil, naturally entailed work for him, and it must be
borne in mind that he not only did what his calling demanded, but
at all times laid himself out to be useful to his masters and their
belongings.
It is worth pausing for a moment to reflect on the life of an Indian
Viceroy; we shall then be able to realise what it must have been to
them to have a man like Lord William, with his loyalty, ability, and
never-failing sympathy and cheerfulness always at their command.
No doubt it is a great honour to be asked to represent the King in
India, and a much coveted position, but when we look back at the men
who have held this high office, it seems that nothing but patriotism,
of the highest order, can have persuaded them to leave their own
beautiful and stately homes, where they were their own masters, could
live in peace with all they loved around them, and where they could
mix freely with their neighbours, for the splendid isolation of the
Viceregal throne; not having been trained, as Royalty are, to be
approached only through mediums, having to sit upon a pedestal from
which they must not descend, no matter what their inclinations, and
up which none may climb to greet them, is paying a huge price for the
honour. They must often feel very lonely, some I know do, and very
homesick.
The choice of the staff is naturally a matter of great importance,
and a Viceroy usually selects people with whom he can unbend and
associate without infringing precedents and necessarily established
laws and customs. Not every man makes a good A.D.C.; it is of no use
their having views of their own; they are there to do as they are
told. Their duties are not very arduous, unless they like to make
them so by doing all sorts of kind and thoughtful things not marked
on the day’s programme. How unsuited some are for the appointments
they hold, was proved by Captain Gordon (later of Khartoum fame and
tragedy), who came out from home as Lord Ripon’s private secretary.
By the time he had been in the country a few weeks he resigned, as he
could not countenance His Excellency’s policy, and expressed his own
views somewhat bluntly, which was disconcerting to everybody in turn.
After this little digression we must return to the time after the
Delhi Durbar, when famine was casting a heavy shadow over the land,
and Lord Lytton decided he would go and see for himself the extent of
the misery and distress; no light undertaking, as it entailed much
travelling to visit all the different parts, chiefly in the Madras
Presidency, the district that had suffered from the same cause in
1853 and 1854. The affected area covered 2,000,000 square miles,
where food was wanted for thirty-six million people.
Unfortunately Lord William was not able to accompany His Excellency,
owing to his latest racing accident, from which he had not
sufficiently recovered. This was a great disappointment to him, for
he may have been happy-go-lucky and devil-me-care in his own private
life, but there was nothing approaching it in his official capacity,
where he was always keen and full of enthusiasm.
Lord Lytton had arrived in India knowing nothing of it “except its
myths,” but was hard at work learning more, being somewhat puzzled
but greatly interested. Amongst other matters, such as famine
and irrigation, there was the ever-troublesome question of our
geographical boundaries amongst the Afghan mountains, requiring close
study and attention. It would be pleasant to follow the work done
on this tour and its far-reaching results, but it has no place here
except as far as Lord William was connected with it, so I pass on,
simply stating that after a long and careful study of the famine
question, Lord Lytton satisfied himself that periodical famines must
be expected, and provision must be made for such distressful times
during the country’s prosperity. He appointed a famine commission to
enquire into it and report thereon, as to means of irrigation and any
other measures possible to adopt. This report was issued in 1880, the
year of Lord Lytton’s return to England, and was the foundation of
the latter-day system of irrigation, developments of communication,
and famine insurance, the benefits of these measures to be reaped by
his successors.
In September of the same year (1877) His Excellency returned to
Simla. In October Lord William had collected a few promising horses
and began entering them under his own name. His colours were carried
at the Dehra October Meeting by Oliver Twist, Lucifer, and Firetail.
Lucifer was a country-bred, on which Captain Chisholme of Lord
William’s regiment won two races for him. A little later, at Umballa,
he had a good time, Oliver Twist bringing in the shekels by winning
the Drawing-room Stakes, ridden by T. Tingey, the chief professional
jockey in India at that time. Lord William rode in all the “chases”
at the meeting, but scored no wins. He had a fall in the Grand Stand
Plate, but was not much the worse, so remounted and rode in another
race the same afternoon. The betting and plunging at this meeting
amounted to a scandal, especially as many of the losers were more or
less penniless. The settling naturally took a long time; indeed, I
have heard that some of the winners never got their money at all.
This meeting was the beginning of the break up of a very well-known
figure in those days, Captain Frank Johnson, one of the handsomest of
men, he being one of the heaviest losers.
Lord William’s attention was now turned towards Jowaki, where the
Frontier tribes were growing aggressive, and it became necessary to
send troops to straighten matters out a little, and he had great
hopes of being allowed to accompany them. Lord Lytton complained to
the authorities at home that it was somewhat difficult for him, when
so little was known of what we called our frontier, as there were no
maps to show where our territory really began or ended.
The hill tribes are always rather a problem. All are muscular
and warlike, but many of them acknowledge little tribal control
or responsibility, which makes it difficult to know whom to deal
with. Their chiefs have no control over them, even when they have
chiefs, on which point I am by no means clear. The incessant raids
on Peshawar and the district could not be tolerated, so Lord Lytton
sent troops with instructions to deliver a night surprise, which,
for some reason, did not come off until daylight, thereby losing its
effectiveness and warning the tribes of our intentions, which was
unfortunate. The first stage of this expedition was consequently a
failure. After this little miscarriage of justice and retribution,
General Keyes was sent with more troops to punish the raiders. This
was called the Jowaki Expedition. Lord William begged the Viceroy to
allow him to go with General Keyes. Permission being granted he was
happy, for this was after his own heart. The General’s instructions
were, to cut off the Jowakis from the other tribes, to prevent their
neighbours joining in with them. This was successfully accomplished,
and a good lesson taught, as the Jowakis’ losses were severe and ours
light. After this, there were only about 1500 rebel tribesmen left
to deal with. Finding their strongholds destroyed and most of their
land in our hands, they gave in, and sent to make terms. Lord William
enjoyed himself, as this was his first experience of active service,
for which he received the medal and clasp. After several months of
climbing mountains in pouring rain, and struggling across torrents,
he returned to Simla, where someone asked him the time-honoured
question, “What were your sensations when first under fire?” To which
he replied, “I don’t remember what I felt like under fire, but I do
remember what it felt like under water--dashed unpleasant!”
Under Lord Lytton’s orders the tribal frontiers were thoroughly
surveyed and mapped out, also good roads made in every direction,
after which the Punjab frontier settled down to peace and quietude.
So many years have elapsed since Lord William was in India, indeed
so many since he died, that I am somewhat handicapped by letters and
documents dealing with this, and many other parts of his life, having
been destroyed. So many of his contemporaries have passed away, also
no wife or mother living, with cherished letters and records to help
in these Memories. His brothers, though deeply attached to him,
were of necessity much apart, each following his own profession, and
therefore not in a position to help much about his foreign service.
After the Jowaki Expedition Lord William returned to his duties on
the Viceregal staff, keeping one eye on the Russian influence in
Afghanistan, hoping he might have a chance of more fighting. He was
longing to be back with his regiment, as they were sure to go if
there was any serious trouble, and this there was before long. What
is now known as the second phase of the Afghan War came after the
hasty treaty of Gandamak. The Khyber Pass Force was withdrawn as far
as Lundi Kotal, and Sir Louis Cavagnari, a political officer of some
repute, was sent with an escort to Kabul as resident, Sir Donald
Stewart’s division remaining at Kandahar. As many people expected,
this arrangement did not last long, but they were not prepared for
the terrible thing that happened.
While the whole country was waiting to hear of the safe arrival of
Sir Louis and his escort, news came that he and all with him had
been massacred. Thus began the second phase of the Afghan War. Sir
Frederick Roberts fought his way up to Kabul and remained there,
trying and hanging a number of people, some say wrong ones as well as
right, but it was impossible to help it, and no doubt they all richly
deserved what they got, so it was just as well. The 9th Lancers
were in the thick of the fighting and Colonel Cleland disabled, so
Lord William’s old friend, Colonel Stewart Mackenzie, took command.
They had great difficulty in saving the guns by getting them across
a twelve-foot ditch, the only possible crossing of which had been
blocked by a fallen wheeler and the gun stuck fast. Colonel Stewart
Mackenzie endeavoured to execute a charge, the second during the
day. Meanwhile the officer responsible for the gun gave orders to
unhook and spike it. Colonel Stewart Mackenzie’s horse was shot, and,
falling on him, he was rescued with the greatest difficulty.
[Illustration: XMAS CARD TO AUTHOR]
The accounts of all the deeds of bravery amongst his brother officers
made Lord William long to go and share their dangers and hardships,
for he loved the “Old 9th,” as he called them. At last, unable to
bear it any longer, he asked for a month’s leave. As usual on such
occasions, he was tortured by the fear that it would all be over
before he got there, so he made elaborate arrangements to do the
journey in record time the moment his leave was granted. Booted and
spurred, he paced up and down his rooms until the joyful news that
his leave was granted was brought to him. He jumped on to a waiting
horse and galloped away for Umballa. Fresh ponies were waiting for
him at different stages of the journey, which enabled him to catch
a train that took him to the rail head of the expeditionary force.
Without waiting for food or sleep, he began riding again; here fresh
ponies were in readiness for him, and he arrived among his war-worn
brother officers scarcely less travel-stained than themselves, after
riding day and night for five days, only broken by the train journey.
He was in time to accompany Sir Sam Browne, V.C., up the snow-covered
Khyber Pass, which he regarded as a refreshing holiday. I give a
little sketch sent to me at this time by another friend enjoying
the same holiday, which will give a little idea of its pleasures. The
Sir Sam Browne mentioned above was destined to be immortalised by the
now famous Sam Browne belt. It was the child of the gallant General’s
imagination, and first worn on active service during this campaign.
Whatever its merits have now been proved to be, it was greeted with
contumely and caustic comments by the army, as is customary with all
new inventions, but like the Brodrick cap, it has weathered countless
storms. I remember men used to speak of it with suppressed passion
as “the Christmas tree arrangement.” I do not know why, unless on
account of the things supposed to be hung on it.
Soon after Lord William joined him, Sir Sam Browne decided to storm
the Citadel of Ali Musjid from the right-hand side of a rocky ridge
of some height. General Appleyard at the same time was to lead his
brigade up the left side, along a precipitous path, little more
than a goat track. Between these two brigades was a deep gorge with
rushing water at the bottom. The air was alive with bursting shells
fired from the Citadel. The Afghans were engaged in shelling the
ridge from end to end, which made it, according to Lord William,
“lively.” Shells were even bursting among the advancing columns.
When nearing the Citadel, Sir Sam Browne wished to communicate with
General Appleyard on the opposite ridge. Here was Lord William’s
chance. He at once volunteered, and General Browne accepted his
offer, instructing him to reach General Appleyard as quickly as
possible, but to make a detour of the valley to lessen the risk.
“All right, sir,” replied Lord William, who had no intention of
making a detour at all. Dismounting, he gave his horse to someone to
hold, scrambled down the precipice, and was out of sight in a moment,
hidden by the flying earth and smoke from the bursting shells.
Reaching the bottom safely, he sat down and took off his boots,
partly wading, partly jumping, from rock to rock, arriving safely at
the other side. Here he again sat down and lighted a cigarette before
putting on his boots and scrambling up the hill, where he delivered
his message. He was as calm and collected as when out partridge
shooting, in fact calmer than he was sometimes on those occasions,
but always with the same fire burning in his keen eyes.
By the middle of December, 1878, General Sir Sam Browne’s column was
in occupation of the Musjid, after climbing that stern, sulky-looking
Khyber Pass. Lord William’s leave being up, and feeling how good it
had been of Lord Lytton to let him go, he hurriedly ate his Christmas
dinner with the Headquarters Staff and started on his way back,
meeting with some excitement on the way down, as the Afghan hillmen
potted at him most of the time from their hiding-places in the
mountains.
A month was not long in which to journey to the Khyber Pass, take
part in the storming and capture of Ali Musjid, and then return to
Calcutta, but proves the old saying that “Where there is a will there
is a way.”
Lord William received a medal and clasp and was mentioned in
despatches for his share in this campaign.
I do not think a man less brave because he loves doing daring and
dangerous things. Certainly he appeals to the imagination no less,
though, I suppose, in the last analysis, it is the man who is afraid
in his heart, yet does a brave thing by force of will over body, who
is the most truly brave.
On his return to Calcutta he took up the thread of life where he had
left it, and continued during his lighter moments, racing, dancing
and flirting; for he was a veritable butterfly, fluttering from
flower to flower and sipping honey in the sunshine. And why not?
A little gentle flirtation is good for everyone’s self-respect,
and keeps them young. After all, what are a few little silken
insincerities? What is flirtation? Simply a social accomplishment, a
little mutual sympathy beautifully expressed, and a little repartee.
There are not a few who think it is pleasanter to be in sympathy with
many than in bondage to one.
When at Calcutta Lord William was fond of spending week-ends at
Barrackpore, which is a sort of country residence for the Viceregal
people, standing on the banks of the Hugli, and has lovely gardens
and grounds, with the advantage of being within a few miles of
Calcutta, therefore not much packing up and journeyings required. It
was a place much sought after by honeymoon couples. The Vice-reine
used to lend it to them, and Lord William had the privilege also of
using and lending it when not required by their Excellencies, to
those in search of quietness and peace.
After the big official Government residence at Calcutta, this homy
countrified house was very restful. All felt the moment they arrived
that the official smile might be laid aside for a time and some of
the stiffness out of the spine.
There is an interesting monument at Barrackpore erected to the
memory of Lady Canning, sister of Louisa, Marchioness of Waterford,
wife of the third Marquis, and therefore aunt by marriage of Lord
William. Lady Canning was very beautiful, and like her sister very
good. Her husband, Viscount Canning, succeeded Lord Dalhousie as
Governor-General in 1856, and when she died in Calcutta, November
18th, 1856, from fever caught while sketching in the Terai, was
mourned most sincerely by the community at large, to whom she had
always been sympathetic and kind. At the time of her death Lord
William was fourteen years old. Louisa, Marchioness of Waterford,
shared her sister’s love of art and painting, was indeed an artist
of merit. Mr. Watts considered her one of the greatest real artists
of that time. One of her celebrated pictures hangs at Ford Abbey,
a place which she inherited in Northumberland. The picture is
entitled “The Miracle of Healing the Two Blind Men.” Some of her book
illustrations were also considered by authorities on such matters
as excellent. It was Louisa, Marchioness of Waterford, who designed
the beautiful monument of a guardian angel which stands to-day over
the fateful well at Cawnpore, where the unhappy English people were
thrown in alive during the Mutiny. Anyone visiting that station in
India cannot fail, when driving through that dusty, sun-dried place,
to be deeply impressed by this beautiful white, calm-looking figure,
spelling pity and peace. It is difficult to prevent bitter and
revengeful feelings taking possession of us as we remember all that
happened in that historic place, but after looking at that calm,
peaceful and dignified figure, a certain feeling of “Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do,” takes the place of revenge. It
is seldom that a monument appeals to us in that way; many are grand,
great works of art and manipulation, but that white angel at Cawnpore
is something more. If my brain had conceived the idea and my hand
designed it, I should be a proud and soul-satisfied woman.
The Beresford stable was now seldom idle even when the owner was
away. In 1879 his horse Telegram was figuring in Calcutta, winning
the Alipore Plate. The same horse got beaten a little later by quite
a slow mare called Blue Bonnet, belonging to Mr. E. T. Roberts, which
was a piece of bad luck, more especially as the cause was the poor
beast’s breaking a blood-vessel, which, however, did not prove a very
serious matter, as he was patched up and fulfilled his obligations
to his owner by winning the Calcutta Cup on the second day of the
meeting.
At Dacca, which is about 150 miles from Calcutta, Lord William won
at this time a steeplechase with (I believe) Telegram, and it was
rumoured that for some unaccountable reason the Dacca steamer was
delayed for a day, instead of starting at the advertised time, which
was very convenient for Telegram, as it allowed him to be at Dacca
in time for the meeting, which would otherwise have been impossible.
Everybody wondered how such an unheard-of thing could have happened.
I wonder if Lord William could explain?
It was in the January of 1879 that the Viceroy’s anxieties were
increased by war breaking out in South Africa. In case any of my
younger readers do not know, or have forgotten, about this war, I had
better recall the immediate cause leading up to it.
In 1879 Sir Theophilus Shepstone had annexed the Transvaal. Sir
Bartle Frere, as High Commissioner, explained to the Zulu King,
Cetewayo, that there must be no more arguing about a certain strip
of land claimed both by him and the Transvaal Republic, and to avoid
further trouble he had better disband his army. This demand, stated
as bare, undiluted fact and shorn of parliamentary terminology,
sounds rather high-handed, but anybody interested in the history can
read the matter up and form his then more mature opinion, as there
were other matters of importance attached to the situation without
which it would not be possible to form a fair judgment. At any rate
Cetewayo, seeing “no sense in it,” as an old retainer of ours used to
say when requested to do anything he did not like, began the row by
totally defeating the British troops at Isandhlwana on January 22nd,
1879, which was not a good beginning for us, and we felt rather small.
The horrors of that time must be still fresh in the memories of all
persons alive now, who were old enough to read and think in 1879.
Lord Chelmsford, who was in command, was greatly blamed for his plan
of campaign, but he afterwards retrieved his mistakes to some extent
by defeating the Zulus at the battle of Ulundi and taking Cetewayo
prisoner. That, however, was poor comfort to those whose dear ones
had been sacrificed to his mistakes, that is to say if the disaster
was attributable to his errors, which I am not competent to judge.
It was at this battle of Ulundi that Lord William so distinguished
himself and won the name of “Fighting Bill,” appearing in _Vanity
Fair_ in September the same year under that title, though I cannot
congratulate “Spy” on the production, for he represents Lord Bill as
a “beery”-looking person, which is the last thing he ever looked in
life, but in the picture it will be noticed more than any other of
his pictures or photos the resemblance in the eyes and upper part of
his face to his uncle, the third Marquis.
Hearing of the unfortunate reverse at Isandhlwana, Lord William was
“just mad,” to use his own words, to go and fight in South Africa,
and the kind, indulgent Lord Lytton again allowed him to go, this
making the third time he had been permitted to leave his work on
the staff to which he had been appointed. Doubtless His Excellency
admired the spirit which prompted Lord William to again ask the
favour, and six months’ leave was granted.
Once more we see Lord William happy and “off to the war,” his soul
on fire. He succeeded in getting appointed to Sir Redvers Buller’s
staff, and left all his affairs in the hands of a brother A.D.C.
with whom he had been sharing a bungalow, and who was a great
friend, telling him to attend to all his business for him during
his absence, and to open all his letters, adding, “If you find any
of them beginning very affectionately you need not go on.” The
friend who received these instructions was Captain Charles Muir (now
Colonel), at that time not only A.D.C., but also commanding His
Excellency’s bodyguard.
Lord William knew how to choose his friends, and felt he was leaving
everything in safe and adequate hands, that his interests would be
faithfully looked after, and all private affairs treated with tact
and delicacy. It was an anxious and responsible position for Captain
Muir. There were the private letters to be cared for, the official
ones to be answered, the racing stable with its inevitable worries
of horses going wrong, men going wrong, and the usual everyday
matters to be carried out and adjudicated upon, all this requiring
considerable discretion.
Lord William arrived at Durban about the middle of April, 1879,
after a tedious journey from Aden in a coasting steamer, which,
like excursion trains, seemed to stop everywhere with no particular
object, and mostly at horribly unhealthy-looking places.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN CHARLES MUIR (NOW COL.), A.D.C. TO VICEROY AND
COMMANDING HIS EXCELLENCY’S BODY-GUARD]
[Illustration: LORD WILLIAM AND PONTO]
All around the roadstead were the transports that had brought troops
from England. This thrilled Lord William to such an extent he could
not wait to begin his fighting for Queen and country--that was to
follow--so just to keep his hand in he indulged in a fight on his
own account in the hotel at Durban, which was cram-full of officers
in every branch of the service. This was fight No. 1, before he
had reached head-quarters or reported himself; that time-honoured
institution he attended to later. Fight No. 2 was another private
affair, between himself and a war correspondent named Mr. Fripps, who
made some disparaging remark about General Buller, when Lord William
delivered a message he had received orders to convey, and which
caused the artist inconvenience.
Lord William could not stand this, and said he would not allow
anybody to abuse his General, and if they did he would thrash them.
Mr. Fripps did not appear the least awed, and suggested when they
got back to camp that night they should settle the matter. Amidst
the work and excitement of the day Lord William forgot all about the
suggested thrashing: not so Mr. Fripps, who turned up before going
to bed to see if it was convenient to his lordship to carry out his
threat. A fierce encounter ensued, and it was just touch and go who
came out on top, when one of Lord William’s arms got rather badly
hurt; he wanted to go on fighting with only one arm, but chivalrous
Mr. Fripps suggested finishing the fight another day, when he had
both arms and it would be fair play. After this they were the best of
friends.
Now came the official fighting. Lord William had been hoping for some
staff appointment. His lucky star being in the ascendant, the wish
was gratified almost immediately, as will be gathered from the above
narrative, by General Redvers Buller (at that time Colonel Buller)
appointing him, with the sanction of Lord Chelmsford, as his staff
officer, in the place of Captain the Hon. Ronald Campbell, who had
been killed in a recent battle when fighting against 20,000 Zulus.
Captain Campbell was a difficult man to follow, and Sir Redvers was
rather in despair of finding anyone who could fill his place. General
Marshall, who knew Lord William better than most people at that time,
hearing he had arrived in the country, hastened to bring him to Sir
Redvers’ notice, knowing he would be invaluable.
It did not take Lord Bill long to collect his kit and start off on
his long journey to join his new Chief up country at Kambula, where
he was in command of the irregular Volunteer Cavalry, forming part of
Sir Evelyn Wood’s splendid little fighting force, and it was here the
Fripps fight already mentioned took place.
Lord William found he was the only staff officer with Sir Redvers,
so his hands were soon full. The force of 8000 under his chief
were a strange but interesting crowd, made up largely of gentlemen
not wanted elsewhere, runaway sailors, Australians, Canadians, and
some of the undescribables from South African towns, in fact a
cosmopolitan crowd who had volunteered for the period of the campaign
for the sum of 5s. a day as pay.
What made Lord William’s work the more difficult was that there
were several sub-commands which had originally been forces of their
own, all of whom he had to keep up to the mark, work together, make
efficient, and content. Every detail had to be arranged by him; also
the daily parades had to be inspected.
It was no sinecure being right-hand man to Sir Redvers, for he was a
firm, silent martinet, ruling all under him with a rod of iron, and
he considered it Lord William’s place to wheel this heterogeneous
crowd into line and order. Lord William was, in some degree, of the
same way of thinking as his Chief. Both were born fighters, both,
at any rate in theory, strict disciplinarians, but Lord William had
the happy knack of always drawing the best out of people; his Irish
wit, combined with his cheerfulness, was irresistible; even the most
cantankerous, the worst funkers, the most lawless succumbed, and
became his willing slaves.
June 1st saw Lord Chelmsford’s Army in the Valley of the Umvaloosi,
where across the silvery winding river could be seen the Kraal of
the Ulundi King, with all its minor attachments surrounding it. Two
or three days only had been allowed in which the Zulu Chief had to
decide whether he would do as we bid him or not. While the gentleman
was making up his mind it was considered wise to find out what sort
of ground was in front of our force, over which it was expected
we should advance. The orders were that Sir Redvers was to make a
reconnaissance across the river without aggravating Cetewayo unduly,
before his days of meditation were concluded.
At the appointed hour Lord William and his Chief were to be seen
in front of Sir Evelyn Wood’s tent, waiting for the rest of the
contingent, made up of all sorts and odds and ends.
Sir Redvers led the way, followed by the rest of the horsemen, Lord
William bringing up the rear, to see all was complete. He then
galloped forward to join and lead the Scouts, little thinking what
stern adventure was awaiting him. General Buller followed with the
rest of his party.
Cetewayo, not requiring time for consideration, having quite
decided on his course of action, when hearing of our assortment of
troops climbing down the bank of the Umvaloosi, at once commenced
hostilities, a scattered fire from the Zulus greeting our horsemen.
Nothing daunted, they forded the river on the left of a kopje which
was evidently being held by the Zulus, and then bending again to
the left took it in reverse. The late occupants were seen hurrying
through the long grass out on to the open plain in front of our men,
who thought they feared being cut off. Lord William and his scouts
were pressing on the heels of the fleeing Zulus, some of them not
reaching the Kraal they seemed to be heading for.
It looked as if Sir Redvers and his staff officer were going to
have an easy time and run straight into Ulundi. This was very
exhilarating, and they galloped on close behind the Zulu Chief, who
was evidently in command of the fugitives, and possibly from design
in their rear. He was a huge, powerful man and a veteran, which was
proved by the ring round his head. Suddenly he turned round on the
advancing scouts. Lord William being well in advance of the rest,
leading his men, could plainly see the Chief marking his distance
preparing to use his assegai, and it came. But his opponent was
ready, and too quick for him, so dashing aside the assegai, he
galloped with his sword up, the point fixed and rigid. The Zulu
waited with his shield up. He did not wait long, the impetus
given by the pace his horse was galloping carried Lord William’s
sword right through the shield and half through the man’s body,
entering his heart. He dropped dead, and the assegai was sent home
to Curraghmore, where it decorated the corner of Lady Waterford’s
drawing-room.
I think we may take it the flight of the Zulus was only to lead
our men on, and get them into a tight corner, for suddenly several
thousand Zulus appeared out of the long grass which had entirely
hidden a deep water-course in which they had been waiting. It
therefore became necessary to retreat, and Sir Redvers Buller gave
the order to fire a volley and then retire. Lord William and his
scouts rode back, followed by many bullets. Two men were killed, and
a third wounded, his horse getting away.
Always the first to lead the way into any danger zone, so likewise
Lord Bill was the last to leave it. He had been taken by surprise,
but was in no way flustered, and with that thought for others for
which he was so remarkable, turned for a moment in his saddle, though
hotly pressed by the enemy, to make sure all his living men were away
and safe; he then discovered the wounded man whose horse had run
away, lying helpless and dazed on the ground, but trying to rise. He
was a non-commissioned officer, Fitzmaurice by name, and at the mercy
of the advancing hordes of savages who were perilously near. Quick
as thought Lord William turned his Irish charger and galloped back,
threw himself out of the saddle and tried to put Fitzmaurice up on
to his horse, but the wounded man was as splendid as his preserver.
Realising the delay only meant both being killed--one might possibly
escape, but two? It seemed impossible--the Zulus were close on them,
so he shook his head feebly, saying, “No,” begging Lord William to
leave him and save himself.
Of course Lord Bill would have none of this, and, swearing mighty
swear words, yelled at the man, “Come along, you b---- f----”
(meaning I suppose “beloved friend”). “If you don’t I’ll punch your
b---- (beloved!) head for you.” How characteristic of Lord William.
Those who knew him well will be able to picture the fierce way he
would say it. Seeing Fitzmaurice was weak from loss of blood and
unequal to any exertion, Lord William, though sadly impeded by the
arm hurt in the previous private fight, with some difficulty lifted
and shoved the man on to his horse, no easy matter on a highly-strung
impetuous animal, but it was accomplished, and, hurriedly mounting
behind him, galloped for life, but with little hope of escaping,
the Zulus following closely. What desperately anxious moments! made
doubly so by the wounded man being unable to keep his balance from
weakness and loss of blood, twice his weight nearly pulled Lord
William out of the saddle, and he felt all was over. Just when
beginning to fear he could not support Fitzmaurice any longer, help
came in the shape of Sergeant O’Toole, who had seen their danger
and rode out in hot haste to the rescue, shooting Zulu after Zulu
with his revolver as they came within measurable distance. He then
assisted Lord William with his now helpless burden.
It is interesting to note that both those brave men, Lord William
Beresford and Fitzmaurice, were Irishmen, O’Toole, who came to
the rescue, was Irish, and the horse which bore them into safety
was Irish, each so splendid in their several parts; Lord William
risking his life to save his countryman, he in his turn refusing to
jeopardise his officer’s life, then the plucky Irish horse straining
every nerve in response to his master’s bidding, though carrying a
double burden of swaying riders. Again, the Irishman that grasped
the situation, and without waiting for any word of command, lost not
a moment in riding to their rescue, no precious time being lost in
wondering what had happened, and if there had been a disaster. Truly
a quartet of distinction.
It was hard to tell when they arrived at last in safety who was
the sufferer, for all were bathed in gore. Mr. Archibald Forbes,
the clever newspaper correspondent, tells the story of how on the
afternoon of the same day, hearing Lord William was to be recommended
for a V.C., he hurried to his tent to tell him the news, and
congratulate him; finding his lordship fast asleep, the sleep of
exhaustion, he debated in his mind whether to awake him to hear the
good news or let him sleep on and recuperate; deciding on the former,
only to be rewarded by having a boot thrown at his head and being
told to go to h---- (heaven, I suppose).
Later on, hearing he really was to be recommended for the Cross for
Valour, he remarked it would be no pleasure to him unless O’Toole
received one also. I wonder how many men there are who would have
thought of that? No doubt O’Toole’s promptness had a good deal to do
with the ultimate safety of the party, but it was due to Lord Bill’s
courage and kindness of heart that the episode occurred, and to him,
assuredly, the greater glory.
In a letter written at this time by Lord William to Lady Lytton he
says, speaking of his experiences, “They were indeed two days worth
living for, and never to be forgotten. I was lucky in the day’s
reconnaissance inasmuch that I helped to save a poor man’s life,
whose horse fell with him, about 200 yards from 3000 Zulus. He was
half stunned and bleeding a good deal. I galloped back to him and
with difficulty got him on to my horse (even more exciting than the
gymkhana races two on one pony). The Zulus had come to within 50
yards of us when I managed to start off at a gallop with him, never
thinking that the pair of us would get out alive, but we did.”
It will be remembered that it was during this savage war that Prince
Louis Napoleon lost his life.
When Lord Bill, or “Fighting Bill” as he was now called, returned to
India, many people hardly knew him he was so altered in appearance,
owing to his having grown a beard. It certainly entirely changed his
face, and his friends were glad when he turned up one morning “in his
right mind” as somebody expressed it, or, in other words, shaved, and
as he was before he wasn’t.
He was of course fêted and patted on the back, but fortunately he
was not a nature this would spoil. At one regimental dinner given
in his honour while being carried round the table on the shoulders
of some of his old pals he espied in a corner of the room a doctor
wearing the ribbon (V.C.), so the moment he could free himself from
the affectionate attentions of his friends he made a dive for the
doctor, and hoisting him on to his shoulders (regardless of the man’s
protests, who thought his last moment had come) ran round the room
with him on his shoulders, all present now cheering lustily. It is
delightful to remember this sympathetic action of Lord William’s, his
blood still at fever heat, from the excitement and lust of battle
and the appreciation and applause of his countrymen, yet in the
zenith of his pleasure and congratulations on receiving the V.C.,
the moment he caught sight of the ribbon on another man’s breast at
once wished him to share in the applause and cheers of the evening.
With quick perception and never-failing sympathy with others, he knew
in a moment what memories had been stirred in the old hero’s heart,
perhaps a little bitterness for the forgetfulness of mankind, and
that chivalrous action of Lord William’s turned his night into day,
all present drinking to the two V.C. heroes.
There are in this world a certain number of people who are by nature
so jealous they cannot bear to hear anybody praised but themselves,
who say when others have performed deeds of valour that it is purely
a question of chance and luck, that of course everybody would have
done the same if only they had the opportunity. No doubt many would
like to do great deeds, give their souls for the opportunity, yet
when the moment presents itself, fail to recognise it, and so the
golden chance is lost. All are not blessed with a quick perception,
dashing courage and an uncommonly human heart.
Deciding that a sight of the old country would do him good, Lord
William thought he would finish up the remainder of his leave by
dashing home. After figuring out the time it would take going and
returning, he found he would have just eighteen clear days for
enjoyment. They were a great eighteen days, but hardly restful,
though certainly refreshing. The first to greet and congratulate him
as the ship neared Plymouth was the Prince of Wales, who was in the
Sound at the time with Lord Charles Beresford, and His Royal Highness
was the first to convey the news to Lord William that the Queen had
been pleased to give effect to the recommendation for the V.C., and
that he was commanded to Windsor to receive the reward at the hands
of the Queen-Empress. This was a happy beginning to the short but
well-earned holiday. The Prince was always a good friend to Lord
William, indeed to all the Beresfords. It was seldom one of them was
not in attendance in some capacity.
A very happy, light-hearted Lord Bill journeyed to Windsor to receive
the modest looking but much coveted bronze Cross “For Valour,” Her
Majesty pinning it on to the hero’s breast, but not before he had
explained to his Queen he could not in honour receive recognition of
any services he had been able to perform, unless Sergeant O’Toole’s
services were also recognised, as he deserved infinitely greater
credit than any that might attach to himself.
The Queen, appreciating this generosity and soldierly honesty,
bestowed the reward also on Sergeant Edmund O’Toole of Baker’s
Horse, and Lord William was satisfied. He received a great ovation
in London, being especially pleased with the congratulations of the
Prince of Wales, who, while shaking him warmly by the hand, made one
of those individual and graceful little speeches for which he was so
deservedly popular.
When the Prince of Wales became King he grew so weary of wrestling
with the pins of medals which would not penetrate stiff material,
that he designed a hook for fastening these on, to take the place
of the pins, which makes it a much more simple and less fatiguing
process. The hook is taken back after the hero leaves the “Presence.”
After a great ovation in London, Lord William made straight
for Ireland, going first to the Bilton Hotel in Dublin, then a
fashionable resort. He asked his old friend the hall-porter if there
was anybody he knew in the hotel, and was informed that Captain
Hartopp, 10th Hussars, known to his friends as “Chicken Hartopp,”
was in the bathroom, so he quietly went upstairs and locked the door
on the outside, then turned on the cold douche from the main source,
giving the occupant a rather forcible shower bath. This was followed
by strong language from inside the bathroom. Lord William was outside
listening, and awaiting events. Presently he heard “I thought there
was only one man in the world who would dare to do such a thing, and
he is safe in Africa.”
But he soon found out his man was not in Africa, but at home, very
much at home in Ireland, where he was pleased to find he was not
forgotten, but that if he hoped to visit all the kind friends who
sent him pressing invitations he would have to cut himself into a
great many pieces.
While preparing to return to India, Lord William was staying with
his mother in Charles Street. The Prince of Wales was dining quietly
with her one night; Lord William came down without his V.C. medal.
The Prince at once noticed its absence and told him he believed his
mother had given him the V.C., and he should remember it ought always
to be worn when in the presence of Royalty. Lord William, of course,
went and fetched it.
The holiday was over all too soon, but there was nothing depressed or
“dumpy” about his lordship. At any rate the world was not allowed to
see it if he was, for up to the last moment he was playing practical
jokes and laughing. One of the reasons why he was always happy and
pleased, wherever he might be going, was because he was sure of a
hearty welcome, but of course that was thanks to his own amiability
and cheerfulness.
Returning to India it was pleasant to be told how much he had been
missed, and how delighted everybody was he was back again. He was
looking forward to the Dehra races, which would be due shortly after
his return. His cousin Willie Holmes was managing the meeting. Here
he found a goodly collection of cheery souls, amongst them the
well-known Mr. Kelly Maitland, Mr. Horace Hayes, and many more. Lord
William’s Gazelle managed to beat Mr. Horace Hayes’ Bismillah in
the pony race. They then all moved on to Meerut for more racing. At
this meeting Mr. Kelly Maitland gave a cup for a three-quarter-mile
pony handicap. The handicapping of Sattara, the pony belonging to
Mr. Maitland, upset him, for he considered it unfair. It was a
little unusual to enter anything to run for his own cup, and so he
had better have swallowed his discomfiture and said nothing, but he
began airing his grievance at the Wheler Club in the evening, when
Mr. Holmes came into the room, and made some pointed remarks about
the generosity in giving a cup he was so evidently anxious to win
himself. Then the fat was in the fire, everybody talked at once,
shouting to make themselves heard, while somebody went into the
lottery room where Lord William was busy, and told him Mr. Maitland
was calling Mr. Holmes naughty names. This of course could not be
tolerated; he must see his cousin was not sat upon by Mr. Maitland or
anybody else, so he dashed into the fray, after which matters were
not quieter and the hullabaloo ended in the celebrated “Maitland
versus Beresford” defamation case, which was tried before a native
judge in 1880 and the plaintiff was non-suited. Lord William’s
language was as a rule most polished, and personally I never heard
him otherwise than parliamentary, but I have been told that on
occasions “He could bring tears to the eyes of a cabby from an utter
incompetence to compete with him.” I am under the impression this
racing row gave him one of his opportunities and he threw in a few
new words not generally understood outside Ireland, which added
lustre to the occasion, and it is always annoying to have words
hurled at you that you do not know the meaning of. It leaves so much
room for speculation and possibilities.
There was a little excitement also at the Allahabad races of 1879-80,
where he rode his own Pomponius Ego heavily handicapped by the weight
of 13st. 7lbs., while opposing him was Daintily, ridden by Tingey,
carrying 9st. 7lbs. The latter was declared winner, while Lord
William firmly believed he had won, but Pomponius swerved when just
on the post, and as several ponies were all up together in rather a
bunch it was perhaps difficult to tell exactly. At any rate the judge
decided he was fourth. There were ructions over this, Lord William
speaking his mind; it was finally agreed there should be a match
between Pomponius and Daintily, 1000 rupees a side, the same weights
and same distance, only instead of riding his own pony Lord William
put up John Irving.
The match was breathlessly watched by a large gathering, and some
betting was the order of the day. The result was a dead heat. The
owners refused to divide, so it had to be run off again, when
Pomponius once more swerved just on the post and was beaten by half
a length. So Pomponius’s owner had to pay up and look as if he liked
it, which none knew better how to do, for there never lived a more
cheerful loser.
Taking it all together Lord William was fairly successful this cold
weather with his horses. Telegram won a couple of hurdle races at
Agra. The stable did nothing at Lucknow, but in February Ashantee,
ridden by Lord William, won the Himalayan Chase at the Dehra meeting.
Mr. Abbott tells a good story about this event. Ashantee’s owner had
backed him pretty heavily through his pals with Miller the bookmaker,
till the horse stood at 2 to 1. Before mounting to go to the post
he went up to Miller and put on another thousand. Miller addressed
him thus, “Well, my lord, I should be sorry to see a promising young
nobleman like yourself cut off at the commencement of a brilliant
career, but it would suit my book if you was to break your blooming
neck in this race.”
I remember on one of my journeys in a P. & O., Miller and his
partner, whose name I forget, were on the same boat journeying to
Calcutta. He seemed a very gentle-voiced retiring sort of man, but no
doubt could make himself heard and felt when so inclined.
While all the fighting in Afghanistan and South Africa was
proceeding, each treading hotly on the other’s heels, the country
at home was growing discontented and upset, for it naturally became
disorganised, business interfered with, and some discomfort for the
inhabitants, which ended in Parliament being dissolved on March 24th,
1880, the Liberal Government being returned by about 120.
The Queen sent for Lord Hartington, then for Lord Granville, and
lastly for Mr. Gladstone, who accepted office.