AN IDEAL MILITARY SECRETARY
Dignity and Humour--Some Tests of Both--Affection of the Natives
for Lord William--How They Tried to Please him--What Happened
on a Slippery Floor--Some Tableaux--A Supper and a Race--What
the Jockey Club Would Have Said--Lord Ripon’s Message to the
Amir of Afghanistan--The Amir’s Reply--The Work of the Military
Secretary--Swelled Heads and Outgrown Shoes--How Lord William Dealt
with Them--Pay of Military Secretary--Compensation for Diminishing
Rupee--No Fish to Fry
Those who knew Lord William will think I have passed over a very
marked feature in his life, namely, his smartness at repartee and
his endless jokes. I have forgotten neither, nor have I ceased to
be grateful for the way he succeeded in brightening up the dullest
parties; he carried sunshine and merriment with him wherever he went,
and it was infectious. No matter how awkward a position he might find
himself in, he always came out gracefully and smiling.
I feel that to repeat Lord William’s jokes, is to rob them of their
atmosphere and merit. Jokes are individual things, and require
such delicate handling, they must have their own surroundings and
atmosphere; it is so easy to rob them of their bloom or kill them
altogether.
Lord William was one of those rare people who found it possible to be
serious in a funny way, which was no doubt an asset, though at times
disconcerting for other people, as will be seen from the following
narrative:
When on tour the Viceroy and Vice-reine held receptions answering to
drawing-rooms in England, so that all the local people could come
and make bows and curtseys to the representatives of the English
Court. On one of these occasions a fat Irish lady, having made her
obeisance, thought she would like to watch the rest of the show, so
she and her daughters either stayed in the throne room, or returned
to it, ranging up opposite the viceregal party, and began making
audible comments.
This could not be allowed, and Lord William most politely told her to
“Move on,” though I am sure he did it in a way that made it appear
he was conferring a great favour, and with one of his most winning
smiles. The lady did not move an inch, but stood her ground.
“Then, Ma’am,” said Lord William with another seductive smile and
with the broadest of brogues put on for the purpose, “you’ll have
to pardon me if I put my arm round your waist.” The lady, seeing
that, whether she liked it or not, from the throne room she was
going and thinking discretion the greater part of valour, “moved on”
without the pressure of Lord William’s arm. I was not present on this
occasion, so tell the tale as it was told to me.
Lord Bill’s face when anything funny happened, and he felt it behove
him in his official capacity to be serious, was a study; and while he
often witnessed strange happenings they never ceased to amuse him;
his sense of humour never deserted him.
I remember one occasion when he must have found self-control
difficult.
The viceregal party were on tour and staying in a big station where
they announced they would hold one of these drawing-room sort of
receptions.
_Scene I. (No action.)_
Large bungalow of chief political officer in the neighbourhood. Two
large rooms and one small one opening into one another, the curtains
which usually hung between the rooms to make them more private and
to prevent people hearing what you are saying! being removed for the
afternoon, leaving a free passage from the verandah on one side of
the house through the three rooms and out into another verandah at
the other side of the bungalow.
All the furniture had been removed from the middle rooms to make it
more impressive.
A roughly constructed and somewhat uncertain platform raised a little
from the ground, covered with imposing red felt and bath rugs. Two
deck-chairs or something of that sort representing the thrones.
_Scene II. (Action.)_
Enter Mr. and Mrs. Viceroy, who have learnt to pick their way, and
walk with circumspection over hastily laid red baize and felt. Mr.
and Mrs. Viceroy making polite conversation to their host and hostess
admiring all the excellent arrangements made for their comfort. Mrs.
Viceroy sits on her throne, Mr. Viceroy stands beside her, and the
staff arrange themselves becomingly, one A.D.C. having been told
off to receive and unpack the ladies on arrival at No. 1 verandah,
another on verandah No. 2 to repack them, and say how charming they
are all looking, that it is a day he will remember all his life, and
so on. A third A.D.C. announces the names, which are handed to him on
cards, and the Military Secretary introduces them.
_Scene III._
Arrival of fluttering ladies on verandah No. 1. Many never having
attended a drawing-room at home, are very anxious about their
curtseys. First lady, who has been practising various kinds of
curtseys and bobs before her glass for days, now forgets all about
them, her one idea being to get it over. She shoots through the room
and out the other side, her example followed by those behind her,
like rabbits bolting in frosty weather from one hole to another, Mrs.
Viceroy trying to keep time with a bow and a reassuring smile for
each. The Viceroy bowing, trying to look pleased, but unmistakably
bored.
Fresh batch of ladies, one starts with the wrong foot first, or
something of the kind, gets out of step and turns round to begin,
again hoping for better luck, but hastily stopped by Lord William,
who explains in a whisper the rules of the game forbid any return.
Mr. and Mrs. Viceroy pretend not to see or hear.
Everything going swimmingly, Viceroyalty beginning to think of tea
and drive in the evening, A.D.C.’s beginning to think of flannels,
rackets and smokes.
Enter elderly lady very nervous, makes a really profound curtsey,
so profound she cannot extricate herself from it, and she rocks
slowly backwards and forwards endeavouring to recover herself and get
into her stride again. Lord William’s big blue eyes watching every
movement (I felt certain he was betting on the finish), when with a
groan the lady subsided backwards on the floor, her feet entangled in
drapery and skirt.
“Fighting Bill” to the rescue, old lady picked up, her brow mopped,
bonnet set straight and restoratives administered in verandah No. 2.
_Scene IV._
Royalty descend--mutual congratulations, Lord William and A.D.C.’s
telling each other all about it in room No. 3. Enter whiskey and
sodas.
But I must not be frivolous, as Lord William was a stern upholder
of the dignity of the Court, and very properly so, only the
“make-shifts” necessary for more or less impromptu ceremonies in
India and foreign countries at times lend themselves to amusing
situations; and why is it people always want to laugh more when they
know they must not do it?
I remember at a big function at Simla, when Colonel Chesney was
being made a K.C.S.I. by Lord Ripon. Lord William had arranged
for a number of us to be allowed into the holy of holies to watch
the ceremony. We stood round the wall like well-behaved school
children. His Excellency was announced, small, rotund and dignified
in flowing robes of state, and walked up a strip of the inevitable
red baize to his seat at the far end of the room. There was a good
deal of ceremony about the proceedings. First one official walked a
few steps and bowed to the occupant on the seat at the end of the
red baize, then, after apparently counting something to himself,
advanced a few more steps and bowed again, continuing this slow
mode of progress until within a certain distance of His Excellency,
when more characters took part, and my attention was diverted to
one of the bowing individuals who was related to me, which made me
more sensitive to the fact that one of his silk stockings was on
wrong side out, and with every waft of air caused by his humble
obeisances, little fluttering ends of silk streamed out behind the
happily unconscious man, who, buttoned tightly into much gold lace,
was fancying himself not a little. Those little flags fascinated me,
and I was certain not one of them escaped Lord William’s eagle eye. I
looked across the room to where he was carrying out his duties, but
he was as grave as a judge, and so was I, indeed I flattered myself
I was behaving very nicely, until I heard one of the daughters of
the Commander-in-Chief, who was standing just behind me, whisper:
“Look, he has got his stockings on wrong side out.” I then felt, with
someone sharing my amusement, I must laugh and disgrace myself for
ever. Fortunately more important developments taking place we forgot
to watch the fluffy bits of silk.
While being most punctilious about all things concerning his work,
and the popularity of those he served, and in spite of his hard
work, Lord William found time to amuse himself fairly well. I was at
Government House one day when preparations were being made for a
dance. Seeing the native servants deeply engrossed arranging a cosy
dark corner, amongst some palms and curtains, I enquired what they
were trying to do. They replied with many salaams that they were
arranging a “Kissi Ka waste for Lord Brasspot-Sahib,” in English I
suppose you would call it a quiet corner for two. All the natives
were fond of Lord William, hence doubtless their anxiety to minister
to his moods and emotions, arranging a little corner where a little
kissing could be done in peace and quietness.
Speaking of dances reminds me of one at the Commander-in-Chief’s
(Sir Donald Stewart); the floor was very slippery, and Lord William,
while dancing in a set of Lancers, pointing his toes and doing pretty
steps first to the right and then to the left, fell on to his knees
in front of a huge old lady with several chins and tied in the middle
with a string or what had possibly once been a sash, but it was hard
to tell, being out of sight in folds of figure. Lord William, not the
least disconcerted, crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his
head, saying, “Madam, I am at your feet,” and was up dancing again
for all he was worth without a pause, as if it was all part of the
game, much to the amusement of everybody present, especially the lady
at whose feet he fell, for she was a jolly cheery soul.
Among the enterprising things Lord William did in India was the
overhauling and setting on its feet the Amateur Dramatic Club,
which was on the verge of bankruptcy when he applied himself to
re-establishing it on a firmer basis; now it is one of the soundest
undertakings in India, with a stock of excellent scenery, library,
and large wardrobe. Always anxious to provide amusement for the folk
at Simla, he considered it would be a pity to allow such a useful
institution to fall on evil days, so with his usual generosity he
advanced the money to pay off the most pressing of the club’s debts,
and from that day to the present time the club has never looked
behind it and has now become the fashion. Every season theatricals
take place there, all the rank and fashion taking part or scrambling
for seats to watch the performances. Having firmly placed the club
on its feet Lord William retired from the management, only keeping a
first claim on one of the boxes. Invitations to the little suppers
he instituted in the theatre after the performances were much sought
after, their fame had spread far and wide, both for the good things
he provided and for their cheeriness.
One year some tableaux were got up in the theatre, the money
collected for seats being given to some charity connected with sick
children. Lord William loved small bairns and they loved him. I
remember at these particular tableaux I represented Charlotte Corday
going to execution for the murder of Marat; my executioners were Lord
William Beresford and Captain Donald Stewart, a brother officer of my
husband’s in the 92nd Gordon Highlanders; we had many rehearsals both
for this tableau and others, but the despair of the stage manager
was great over the Corday scene, as the executioners always ended in
romping. Well do I remember their both rolling about the floor trying
to execute one another instead of Charlotte Corday. The manager
would become almost tearful in his entreaties to them to “behave
themselves.” They would then get up, shake themselves, saying to one
another, “Now no more nonsense, Donny, we must behave ourselves”; and
Captain Stewart would reply, “Now do shut up, Bill, and let us get to
business,” but their good resolutions did not last long, they were
soon stabbing, wrestling and tickling one another again and rolling
about on the floor. I began to wonder what would really happen when
the day arrived to appear before the public, but in spite of having
had no proper rehearsals when the fateful moment came they behaved
splendidly, but directly they were off the stage and behind the
scenes began again.
When the whole performance was over, the staff gave a supper in the
theatre to those they wished to invite who had taken part in the
tableaux. A merry evening followed. As soon as all had refreshed
themselves, someone suggested a steeplechase over the tables and
chairs; forms were quickly turned upside-down, and chairs built up
into fences. There was some fun while the would-be riders chose
their mounts. At last all was settled, and we women packed ourselves
away in one corner of the room to act as audience. I am afraid if
the Jockey Club had witnessed that race none of the riders would
ever again have been granted licences, for they out-jockeyed each
other, crossing and trying to pull the riders off their mounts. There
were some resounding and shocking spills, but nobody cared, and the
race waxed fast and furious, being won eventually by Captain Donald
Stewart, a great big fine mount, ridden, if my memory may be relied
upon, by Captain Des Voeux of the Carabineers or Captain Roddy Owen.
The appearance of these sportsmen at the end of the race baffles
description, their hair, which in some cases had answered for reins,
was hanging in disordered wisps, collars reclining on shoulders,
clothes dusty, dirty shiny faces, and all weak with laughter.
This was the lighter side of what was taking place during the early
part of Lord Ripon’s reign. He, meanwhile, was giving anxious thought
to the conclusion of the second Afghan campaign, having been sent out
with instructions to reverse Lord Lytton’s policy and terminate the
war as speedily as possible. Kandahar, which the latter had intended
to hold, was given up, and the whole of Afghanistan secured to the
Amir Abdul Rahman.
The following, poem shall I call it, appeared about this time in one
of the Indian papers signed “Bala.” A cutting of it was given to me,
but I do not know from what paper, so cannot ask for permission to
reproduce it, and can only trust I may be forgiven.
THE VICEROY’S MESSAGE AND THE AMIR’S REPLY
George Samuel, Marquis of Ripon, to the Afghan Chief wrote he,
“God made me Viceroy of India, and thou knowest what I made thee,
You rule by my will and pleasure, I care not to flatter or bribe,
One pledge or promise I ask of thee; I pardon if all men know
That up to this time thou hast not done much to prove thee our friend
or foe.
For the Russian is closing upon you, our faith in his promise is dead,
He is massing his troops on your border, and is eager to push on ahead.
Sharp is the word with the Muscovite, whose will is to plunder and
spoil,
His covetous eye is on India, and eke on your God-granted soil.
Now while he stands for a moment still, there is only one thing to be
done,
I must send a commission to meet him, to show where your boundaries
run,
And you must promise safe escort (we know what the Afghans are!)
And prove yourself friend to the English, and foe to the Russian Czar.
So choose thou of all my civilians, or choose thou of all my host,
One man to lead the commission, whom ever thou trustest most.
Whom thy tribes have known and trusted, to pass through in safety and
peace,
And so shall thy borders be measured, and our feud with the Russians
shall cease.”
The Afghan Chief wrote answer: “You English are cunning and deep!
But I’d ask if you’ve ever succeeded in catching a weasel asleep?
I know what will come of commissions--just what became of your Embassy,
You harried us well four years ago, and I keep good memory.
Here stands my Cabul city, here I dwell by your favour at rest,
But the tribes of my frontier are evil, and know no respect for a
guest:
If your commission needs a safe escort on the oath of a trusted friend,
I have not the means to protect them. But whom will the Viceroy send?
Wilt thou send the poet, Sir A. F. D., the man who advised the last war?
He is safer, I ween, on the Naini Tal lake than he would be near
Kandahar.
Wilt thou send little Bobs--the Bahadur? He is trusted and honoured, I
know,
But he’s cooling his heels at Ootacamund, and doesn’t seem anxious
to go.
Shall I ask for the man with the ringlets? the virtuous lovely L--p--l,
He is living at home at his ease, writing books, and he has grown a
great swell.
Where is the chief McG----gr to pledge me the word of his clan?
He is there on the pine-clad highlands, a highly-paid, well-placed man.
He is shelved with the rest, all promoted they enjoy the reward of the
great.
Will they come now those I have chosen? I watch for their face and wait,
For the bright light shines on promotion, and dark is the downward
track,
And the Simla hills ring an echo of voices that hold them back.
Let the commission stay on the mountain and start as thy message said,
When the Amir sends a safe escort--when the Kalends of Greece are sped.”
“BALA.”
This effusion is amusing no matter how it scans.
Lord Ripon was also called upon to decide grave questions arising
between British and natives; he embarked at once on a very liberal
policy. In accordance therewith the Vernacular Press Act was
repealed, and among other measures, the so-called Ilbert Bill was
introduced in the Legislative Council, giving native magistrates
the same powers with respect to Europeans and Americans as British
magistrates, but this aroused such a storm of opposition the measure
had to be practically abandoned, Act III of 1884 being a compromise.
Lord William, having acquired a useful knowledge of Indian customs
and feelings, was able to be a great help to Lord Ripon, who, finding
the value of his loyal friend, very shortly appointed him his
Military Secretary.
Major White (later Sir George White, V.C.) of the 92nd Gordon
Highlanders, had been acting in that capacity from the time Lord
Ripon arrived in Bombay, where both he and Lord William Beresford
met His Excellency, but the work of Military Secretary did not
appeal to Major White, who loved soldiering, and was not obliged by
circumstances to do anything else, and feeling thoroughly unsettled
when his old regiment was in Afghanistan, in the thick of the
fighting, at last made up his mind to ask Lord Ripon to spare him for
a time, at any rate, so that he might go and join them. This request
being granted his work had to be carried on temporarily by someone
else. When Major White returned he still felt unsettled, and shortly
afterwards resigned. Major (afterwards Sir John) Ardagh succeeded
him, but did not remain long; then Lord Ripon offered the post to
Lord William, and the great moment in his life had come, he had now
the opportunity of showing the stuff he was made of, a scope for his
talents.
The work of a Military Secretary is not known to everybody, so
I will try and explain it in common or garden English. When any
big machinery is in motion it all looks very easy, but machinery
requires much oiling and constant careful supervision to make it work
satisfactorily.
To be a successful Military Secretary in a viceregal household it is
necessary to be like St. Paul, “all things to all men,” for he comes
in touch with so many different interests, acts as oil to so many
different wheels. It calls heavily on anybody’s tact to carry out the
work without friction. The duties are many and important, for he is
the head of the establishment and controls it. The private accounts
and correspondence are in the hands of the private secretary, all
the rest is in those of the Military Secretary. The A.D.C.’s are
under him, and he arranges what part each one has to play. One may
happen to be musical, he will probably be told off to look after the
band; another may be a connoisseur on omelettes and other appetising
confections, he will be asked to look after the kitchen department.
It will be the duty of one, whoever writes the most plainly, to keep
the visitors’ book, write and send out the invitations; this is no
light undertaking, for Viceroyalty have to entertain a good deal--it
is a part of their duty. Some do it better than others, but all
endeavour to fulfil their obligations.
It is in fact a miniature court and meant to be impressive.
The Military Secretary has four paid A.D.C.’s under him; by that I
mean a staff allowance, which is in addition to their military pay
they may be drawing in the usual way, the staff allowance being
anything between Rps.250 and 400, possibly 500 a month, and of course
they live free. I am speaking of the time that Lord William was
Military Secretary, there may be a different arrangement now.
In addition to the four A.D.C.’s I have mentioned there were usually
two that were honorary.
The popularity of a Viceroy rests in a great measure in the hands
of his Military Secretary, hence the importance of having a man who
understands, and is in touch, with the native princes and people,
who has the table of precedence at his finger-ends, and is pleasing
and courteous to all. Lord William excelled in all this, and one of
the reasons why he was from first to last such a phenomenal success,
was because he left nothing to chance, everything was carefully
thought out, no hurried word of mouth orders, but everything written
or printed and placed in the hands of those it concerned, some time
before the orders and work had to be carried out.
Lord William was one of the old school who saw nothing amusing in
being rude, nothing clever in hurting people’s feelings, and he would
not tolerate anything of the kind amongst his A.D.C.’s.
It is not altogether unknown for young A.D.C.’s attached to the staff
of Government houses to get swelled heads, treating everybody not
in immediate connection with their household as canaille, unless
of course they happened to be globe trotters with handles to their
names, but anything of this kind was quickly suppressed by Lord
William, who was kindly and courteous to all, be they princes,
princesses, subalterns, Bohemians or what nots. Perhaps a little
extra pleasant to a pretty face, and who will blame him?
Speaking of bad manners occasionally witnessed at Government houses
in different countries, I have observed it is a way satellites have
at times; while their superiors, like our Royal Family for instance,
are unsurpassed for graciousness of manner, those in attendance on
them are at times sadly lacking in those amiable qualities. In fact
not only have swelled heads, but have grown too big for their shoes.
One might think such an uncomfortable combination would lead them to
see the error of their ways.
But to return to the Military Secretary and his many duties, which
are enough to make the stoutest heart quake.
The Viceroy not being a soldier, naturally depends a good deal on
him for advice as to military points of view, military law, and so
forth. A really sound man can, and often does, influence the ultimate
decisions of His Excellency, imperceptibly, of course, or his value
would be gone. The work of the Indian Office also filters more or
less through his hands, in fact everything requiring the Viceroy’s
attention, while should there be any difference of opinion between
departments, and any of them thought the Military Secretary was
taking any part, or interfering, there would be fierce indignation
and heart-burnings. So while all these delicate matters are being
brought to the Viceroy’s notice by the Military Secretary, yet he
must appear to know nothing about them, though quite possibly his
advice has been asked.
Amongst other duties he has to map out and be responsible for the
arrangements of all the Viceregal tours in the country, involving the
railway journeys, allotting every hour of time each day and night for
weeks and months ahead. The moving of horses and carriages, servants,
and arranging for everything to be in readiness to meet the viceregal
party at all the places where they are going to stay, the officials
to be informed at each; levees, drawing-rooms, and receptions to be
arranged. The native princes who wish to meet His Excellency have to
be communicated with. Attached to these meetings there is endless
work, as each Rajah has a certain code of etiquettes, a proper number
of guns fired as salutes according to their rank. Some have to be
fetched in state to meet the Viceroy; the Military Secretary, an
aide-de-camp, and at times other officials having to drive to their
palaces and fetch them, taking them back in the same way. These
tours are looked forward to by the princes and big landowners of the
country, as many of them have grievances and schemes to lay before
the representative of the English Royalty.
It is difficult for anyone unversed in Eastern ways to realise
how much depends on the forethought and experience of the person
responsible for all these arrangements. It requires some tact to
carry out all efficiently without a hitch, the least little error,
even a molehill of a hitch, may mean mountains of annoyance and
friction for His Excellency.
In all viceregal movements it is essential that there should be
much dignity and show, plenty of colour and red druggeting. Ritual
and observances are the soul of the people of the East. Established
precedents have to be carefully guarded, a yard or two of less red
cloth than usual might easily be construed into an indignity.
Then there are the presents to be thought of, which it is part of
the Viceroy’s duty to dispense, and there is a certain amount of
work attached to this, as the different political officers in each
district to be visited have to be consulted as to what will be most
suitable, and will meet with the approval of each recipient.
In addition to all this strenuousness, the domestic details fall
to the lot of the Military Secretary; if a handle comes off a door
he must see it is replaced, if a goat instead of a sheep finds its
way on to the dinner table, if the horses fall sick or the coachman
drinks too much tea, if a bath leaks, if more visitors are coming
to stay than there is accommodation for, it is the business of the
Military Secretary to avert inconvenience or disaster, in fact
there must be no inconvenience or disaster, otherwise he is not an
efficient Military Secretary.
In return for all this efficiency the pay of a Military Secretary is
1500 rupees a month, fifteen rupees being equal to £1, making about
twelve hundred a year. In later years something was given in the way
of compensation for the diminished value of the rupee, bringing it to
about £1300 a year, all found, as the servants say.
Not every man possesses the necessary qualifications to enable him to
fill this onerous post, for not only has the Military Secretary to
mother the Viceroy so to speak, but he has to look after, advise and
help Mrs. Viceroy, all the little Viceroys, their maids, governesses,
butlers, coachmen and hangers on.
Lord William filled the post so satisfactorily that he was retained
by three successive Viceroys; this speaks for itself. With the
exception of Lord William I never met a really popular Military
Secretary, there was always the qualifying “but” or “if,” but then
the majority have perhaps had “fish to fry” of their own, which would
bring them into ill favour with aspirants for the same frying-pan. It
seems sad that the days of enthusiastic workers should be embittered
by disappointment because promotion does not come soon enough, or
someone else has forged ahead--then a few short chapters of life and
we find “Finis,” and what has all the striving done for them? all the
heart-burnings? Very soon their names are only blots of ink on pieces
of paper, and probably these are put away in the lumber-room with
other “forgottens.”
One of the refreshing things about Lord Bill was he was entirely
devoid of any fish to fry for himself, he sought no high places,
suffered from none of the discontents or scramblings after promotion
or office that seem to have pervaded the lives of many great men,
if we may judge by what we read of them, so he climbed no ladders
at other people’s expense, pushing them down when arriving at the
top, which gives such grave and not unnatural offence, leaving much
bitterness in the minds and hearts of those who are feeling injured.
The two things in life which seem to cause the most unpleasantness
are jealousy and class-hatred. Lord William disarmed both, it was
not easy to be jealous of a man who asked nothing for himself,
climbed over nobody, and who was so generous he would give away
almost everything he possessed to anyone in need, whose pride of
race only showed itself in honourable straightforwardness and
unswerving singleness of purpose. _No_ class could hate him, he was
hail-fellow-well-met to all, thinking no ill of any man, and having
a clean mind himself was not on the look-out for unpleasantness in
other people. He had learnt that most valuable lesson of how to
handle humanity, which spells success in life.
No doubt there are some people who will say, “Oh! but he was born
with a silver spoon in his mouth, with plenty of relations and
friends to push and help him.” Even supposing for the sake of the
argument we allow that, does anybody imagine that if Lord William
had been unsatisfactory or incapable he would have been Military
Secretary for so many years? and not to one Viceroy but to three,
all of whom probably held more or less conflicting views, likes and
dislikes, each one in turn passing through anxious times and moments
of perplexity, yet all without exception spoke of him in terms of
great appreciation and affection.
Many have obtained good posts, not all have kept them.
Amongst all the successful personages I can think of, there are none
who have had so few jealous enemies as Lord William Beresford.
Unfortunately everyone who has anything to do with that noble animal,
the horse, comes in for a certain amount of criticism and occasional
abuse; it appears to be the inevitable or natural sequence of events.