EARLY RACING EXPERIENCES
First Racing Partnership--Some Successful Horses--The “White
Mutiny”--Military Secretaries Come and Go--Fleur-de-lys’
Affection--Racing--Paperchasing--An Exciting Drive--Ponto’s
Admiration for the Fair Sex--Inverarm--How a Sick Soldier
Fared--Love of Children--A Children’s Party and How it Ended--The
Home for Lost Dogs--Simla Gymkhanas--A Sore Head--A Change of
Mounts--Sipi Fair and Marriage Market--What Some of Lord William’s
Friends Said--Why he was like King Solomon
Early in 1880 Lord William and his friend, Mr. Monty Stewart, joined
hands, forming a racing partnership, and their horse Warrego won
the St. Leger at the Umballa meeting. They had also purchased Kate
Coventry for 5000 rupees, a big sum for those days. She won the Grand
Annual the very next day for them, which was encouraging. At the same
meeting Gazelle won the Pony Handicap, Warrego the Trials, and Oliver
Twist the Selling Race. On the last day’s racing Oliver Twist rather
upset the public’s and everybody else’s calculations by defeating his
own stable companion Warrego, who was favourite.
[Illustration:
_Photo. Rouch, Straua_
LORD WILLIAM BERESFORD’S HORSE DEMOCRAT]
[Illustration: LORD WILLIAM BERESFORD LEADING KATE COVENTRY, RIDDEN
BY DEWING. CALCUTTA, 1881]
At Lahore Kate Coventry won the Maiden Chase, Pompey the Dwarf Chase,
Lielle the Arab and Country-bred Handicap, Ronaleyn the All-horse
Handicap, and Potboy the Pony Handicap, not a bad performance. Lord
William now engaged Ryder as his trainer and jockey; he had been
successful for Baboo Mohini Mohun Doss of Dacca.
At Dumdum Kate Coventry won the Handicap Chase as well as another
race. After this, luck seemed to desert the combined stable, though
Kate Coventry still played up nobly, winning the Ballygunge Cup, and
Lawyer the Trial Chase Cup. At Deccan, Pot Boy and Lawyer also won a
race or two.
Then came the Umballa Autumn Meeting, where their luck was so
crushing Lord William vowed he would get rid of the lot of his
horses, and advertised the majority for sale. He may have deceived
himself through disappointment, but nobody else thought for a moment
he would be able to live without racing, in taking which view they
were correct, for in July, 1881, he purchased Camballa and Western
Princess through the dealer and importer known by the name of Teddy
Weekes. Luck seemed once more to be returning, for at the October
meeting at Dehra Fleur-de-Lys won over the hurdles, Kate Coventry the
Himalayan Chase, and Warrego the Corinthian Stakes, while Probably,
a country-bred pony, showed the way in the Gimcrack Stakes. Again at
Umballa the good Kate Coventry, Fleur-de-Lys and Probably also each
won a race.
Lord William was now recognised as a rising racing man, and as one
come to stay. He began to do great things when the Government moved
down to Calcutta for the cold weather of 1881-2. His new purchase
Camballa, a black Waler gelding, began well by winning the Viceroy’s
Cup, steered by Ryder. I see in an old paper of that time “the
unpopular Governor-General was not present to see his cup run for.”
It will be remembered I have already pointed out the reason of Lord
Ripon’s unpopularity with his own countrymen, though never was a
Viceroy so loved by the natives, into whose hands he played all the
time, no doubt thinking it would lead to future good, but causing
at the time dread and consternation amongst Europeans. Whether his
scheme of equalisation between the races has been a success or not I
leave to my readers to decide, though perhaps it is still early days
to say definitely one way or the other. Certainly, if we may judge by
the way India has assisted us in our present struggle, we should feel
inclined to think it had, but it is necessary to look a little beyond
our noses, and think what may be expected in return--the _quid pro
quo_.
I do not suppose Lord Ripon troubled much as to whether he was
popular or not, he was there to do the best for the country and
its people, according to his light, after that it must be left in
the lap of the gods. The public opinion I have heard expressed of
the Viceroys during the time Lord William was on the staff ran as
follows--that Lord Lytton was charming, hard-working, and that
his work would live long after him; Lord Ripon unpopular, as it
was thought he would make life impossible for the white man in
the country owing to his enormous sympathy with the natives; Lord
Dufferin, popular but left a great deal in the hands of his private
secretary; Lord Lansdowne, universally popular, and Lady Lansdowne
especially so. These being the only Governor-Generals under whom
Lord William served I need go no further. He spoke of them all
with affection and gratitude, saying he had received “the greatest
kindness from all officially and individually.” I must confess when
he said this I felt much as I do when parents say they love all their
children alike, which cannot be in the least true; they may love them
all, but it must be in different ways and degrees, so I think Lord
William felt, if he had spoken literally, he had affection for all
his chiefs but in different ways and degrees.
Even Viceroys have a good deal to “put up with.” First and foremost
they have to act on orders from home, after which, if the measures
do not prove successful or satisfactory, the blame of course falls
on the Viceroy’s head; then when settling down and getting into
his stride, finding help and comfort in some of his staff--say the
Military Secretary, that office bringing the individual more closely
into association with him than the rest, forming an important part of
his daily life--it has not been unknown for one Military Secretary
after another to find that their health will not stand the strain,
or that they wish to return to their regiment, another has married
a wife who will not live in India and so on, so resignation follows
on resignation, leaving the unhappy Viceroy in a constant state of
explanations and instructions to new-comers, and with nobody to lean
on, while possibly feeling anxious over work of which he has had no
previous experience and hardly knows where to turn to find someone
who does. Occasionally, perhaps, Viceroy and members of the staff
find “incompatibility” a reason for divorce.
The cold weather of 1881-2 proved to the Beresford-Stewart partners
that they had a good thing in their new purchase Camballa, besides
winning the Viceroy’s Cup, he also won the Burdwarn Cup. Many
people speculated as to this horse’s lasting powers, as he stood
rather straight on his pasterns, and in India the ground is very
hard. However, he did all that was required of him, caused no
disappointment, and then was sold again at no loss, so was not a bad
bargain. Lord William also won a race himself on Alien; his pretty
little Australian mare Fleur-de-Lys, which he had bought from Mr.
Abbott, the Tirhoot planter, also won the Tom Thumb Stakes for him.
This little mare was charming as well as pretty, and as intelligent
as a dog. She had a great affection for her syce, who had been her
close companion from the time she arrived in India, and her owner
used to give his friends little exhibitions of her affection at
times. He would hide the syce somewhere, and then let Fleur-de-Lys
loose out of her stable, telling the man to call her, while he kept
dodging about hiding from her, but she always found him in spite of
all the dodging, whinnying with pleasure when she came up to him.
If anyone caught hold of the syce and pretended to beat him and he
howled, the mare would go straight for whoever it was she supposed
was hurting her friend and companion, would savage and trample on
the offender if she could get at him. So great was her affection for
her syce that it was unnecessary when moving about the country to
put a bit into her mouth, for she would follow him anywhere. She was
eventually sold amongst others to the Prince of Jodhpore, where she
would be well cared for.
Warrego was now the property of the Beresford-Stewart stable, and
won the two mile Durbangah Cup for them. Camballa beat several good
horses for the Merchants’ Cup, proving himself _the_ horse of the
year.
At the end of the cold weather 1881-2 Mr. Stewart was obliged to
leave India and go home owing to ill-health.
Kate Coventry was still going strong and doing wonders, winning the
Ballygunge Cup, and again later in the year the Grand Annual, at
Lucknow, Ryder in the saddle. After this meeting Ryder was sent to
England to buy some horses for Lord William.
The Autumn Meeting at Dehra Doon was very poor, the unsatisfactory
settling after their last meeting had made people a little shy, many
declaring it was not worth while running their horses under the
circumstances; another reason, I think, being the course was not in
very good order, but none of these things troubled Lord William,
though now I come to think of it he certainly rode other people’s
horses, and did not run any of his own, as far as I can remember.
The Umballa Autumn Meeting was not a great success either, owing to
much the same reason. The rules regarding betting were a trifle lax,
but Ryder, who had returned from England, rode an Australian horse
named Blackthorn for Lord William, winning the Sirhind Derby, also
several other races; but Island King, a horse Ryder had brought back
with him, had a terrible fall when running for the Cup, and had to be
put out of his pain.
Paperchases were much in vogue in India during the cold weather.
In Calcutta they were very popular, large fields collecting, but
eventually they became little short of steeplechases. A number of
women used to ride in them, and go right well, but so many who joined
in the chase were given to racing it became a little dangerous, as
will be readily grasped by anyone who has been closely followed
either in the hunting field or in a paper-chase by a racing man,
who may, and at times does, forget all about waiting his turn at a
fence, and just pushes and rushes wherever he sees a chance, quite
regardless of consequences. What matter whose face they trample on so
long as they get there!
There were some great chase riders in those days, Captain David
Papillon, Colonel Oliver Probyn, with his one arm, Lord William
Beresford, and that good sort Mr. Sydney Hartwell of the Oude and
Roulicund Railway. What nerve that man had! I remember a wonderful
grey roan pony he drove, with a knee as big as an apple dumpling,
the result of one of his many accidents, arising from the fact that
he was almost impossible to hold. I doubt if many people would have
cared to drive the gee. Mr. Hartwell was a strong man, yet it took
him all his time to hold this handsome quadruped. He was like a
miniature carthorse, and exceedingly fast. An extra pair of reins
were always buckled on to the bit and rested under a clip on the
dashboard in case of the first lot giving way under the strain. The
traces generally dangled loose, the whole cart and contents, no
matter what weight, being pulled from the bit and reins.
Several times I was asked if I would like to risk my life behind
this steed, and gladly consented, as Mr. Hartwell was a first-rate
whip and most cheery companion. It was arranged during one of these
drives that we should meet Lord William on the Lucknow Racecourse to
see a pony he thought would suit me, put over the jumps. We arrived
safely at the appointed spot, Mr. Hartwell put me down and took the
pony and cart a little distance away to wait until we were ready, the
pony raising no objection to standing. After the matter of trying the
pony Lord William thought would suit me, it was agreed that both Mr.
Hartwell and Lord Bill should come back and refresh at our bungalow,
his lordship said he would jump up behind us on the cart; he received
the same instructions as myself, namely, to nip in quick, the moment
our Jehu took hold of the reins; this was safely accomplished by both
of us, and off we shot like a rocket. The syce in his anxiety to
give the place of honour behind to Lord Bill, did not leave himself
quite enough foothold, and was shot off at the first rear and bound
given by the pony, given just to express pleasure at being on the
move again. Mr. Hartwell was the only person or thing in the cart
retaining a firm and upright position, Lord William was heard to
say “By Jove,” I was speechless shuffling back into my seat trying
to look as if I had never left it, the syce I heard later was last
seen tearing frantically in rear of the cart, after falling flat on
his face and losing his puggery, which was flying out in yards and
streams behind him as he ran trying to re-wind it round his head. I
was too busy holding on to turn my head to see what had happened to
anybody.
After this preliminary all went well, as we proceeded to drive
round the course to have a look at the pony jumps, the grey roan
flinging himself along delightfully though keeping us in a state
of expectancy, when my lord and master, who had been on duty and
delayed, therefore not able to be present at the trial of the new
pony, came galloping up in hot haste to overtake us. This was the
signal evidently to the roan that a race was on, it was really
thrilling, and instead of going straight home as we had intended
after inspecting the jumps, we were raced round the racecourse at
top speed about three-quarters of the way, then on one wheel were
hurruished down an awkward dip and carried like birds through the
Barrack Square, then on through a mango tope, where Lord William
disappeared. Various people who saw us _en route_ were pleased to be
funny about our appearance, and one or two sketches were made, in one
of which Lord William was supposed to be holding me on to the seat,
but looked much more as if trying to sit on my head.
I regret much that in the course of my travels a book full of such
souvenirs has unaccountably disappeared. Eventually Mr. Hartwell got
the pony in hand, and thanks to his brilliant driving I was landed
at our bungalow to find Lord William and my spouse complacently
refreshing themselves in the verandah. Lord William said he and a
bucket, which appeared from under the seat somewhere, were tipped out
under the mango trees while we were being carried over what looked
like a newly filled-in grave.
Mr. Alfred Abbott was another great chase rider; he was seldom seen
without a cigar in his mouth, and died with one between his teeth on
the Barrackpore Racecourse; and many more old friends of Lord William
and mine, in fact it would be easy to fill many books with the doings
of old friends of that period.
Young and old took part in these paper-chases, Sir George White with
grey hairs when Commander-in-Chief, and youths with growing down on
their upper lip. One very noticeable thing about people in India is
the way they keep young in spite of their years, taking part and
interest in all that is going on, old ladies and gentlemen dance
until the early hours with the best of the young ones, ride races,
play tennis and racquets, in fact everything that is going.
One year Lord William offered a prize for a Ladies’ Steeplechase over
the Calcutta Racecourse. There were many competitors, some coming
from a distance to show what they could do.
When Lord William presented the prize of a beautiful silver inkstand
to the winner, who happened to be a Mrs. Somebody he did not know, he
expressed the hope that she would find it useful and persuade her to
write long letters to her husband. This was unfortunate, as the lady
and her husband had agreed to part. It was a most unusual thing for
Lord Bill to make a _faux pas_.
The Simla Season of 1882 passed much in the usual way, a round of
social gatherings and festivities. One character I must not fail to
introduce to you, namely, Ponto, Lord William’s poodle; he appears
in many photographs, and so he ought, being quite a personage; he
lived with his master after he became Military Secretary in quite a
palatial house called “Inverarm,” standing on the hill, not far from
the Viceregal Lodge.
Ponto and his master were inseparable; there were times of course
when he was not wanted which he failed to realise or appreciate, and
in spite of the efforts of those who had instructions to keep him at
home, searched Simla until he located his master, sitting proudly
outside the door until he put in an appearance. Once Lord William
left the house he was visiting by a different route, and Ponto sat on
far into another day, when he was remonstrated with by the inhabitant
of the bungalow at whose door he sat.
On another occasion Ponto broke away from custody and turned up in
church at Simla during a marriage service; the church was very full,
but Ponto managed to squeeze his way through amongst the multitude of
legs, and gave a brisk “Wuff” of delighted greeting when he located
his master. This affection at times was embarrassing, but as he meant
it all in good part his master was obliged to accept it in the same
spirit, while vowing he would find some other means of keeping Ponto
at home. Both the latter and his master had many things in common,
both admired beauty; if Lord William was sitting at luncheon and said
in the usual conversational voice, “There goes a pretty girl,” Ponto
would be up and off in a moment, on to a chair to gaze right and
left out of the window, or to the door, to look out for the pretty
girl. This was always a sure draw for Ponto, and used to amuse Lord
William, showing him off.
Inverarm was like a museum for its many trophies of the chase and
sport generally. Tables groaned under cups and beautiful silver.
Some of Lord Bill’s silver bowls were remarkable for their delicate
workmanship; he used often to lend them to people giving parties
when they wanted to make a little splash. Indeed, so interesting and
comfortable was the house that whenever there was an overflow from
the Viceregal Lodge, which was not infrequent, Peterhoff being very
circumscribed, the extra guests were put up at Inverarm.
One day when riding along the Mall, Lord William saw a doolie being
carried along with a sick man inside; he asked the bearers who was
inside, and being told a cavalry officer from the plains, and hearing
they were going to take the invalid to an hotel, he told them to go
straight to Inverarm, and escorted them to it, keeping the sick man
until well again, doing everything possible for his comfort and to
expedite his recovery. The individual in question was the present Sir
Robert Baden-Powell, at that time in the 13th Hussars, now father of
that most important and valuable institution the Boy Scouts.
No season either in Simla or Calcutta was allowed to pass without the
children being catered for; the parties the Military Secretary gave
for them were amongst the most delightful and eagerly looked forward
to by the young folk, who all adored Lord Bill; he in his turn adored
them. The vocabulary of children is so small and yet so sufficing.
Bairns are very dramatic little persons, and their patois delightful.
He would at any time give up an engagement for his own pleasure to go
and amuse a sick child, telling them stories, taking them presents
and flowers, and always being robbed of the one in his button-hole.
He used to have great confidences and secrets with them, which
children always enjoy. One small boy who had broken his leg and was
much devoted to his delicate mother, wanted to give her something on
her birthday as a great surprise, and could not make up his mind what
it should be, as his saved pennies were not excessive. For days Lord
William made suggestions, none of which were favoured, some being too
costly, others she would not care for. Each visit Lord William paid
he had some fresh list of suggestions. If the boy had decided on an
elephant Lord Bill would have said he was sure he could get one for
the money and procured it; but at last the boy had decided in his own
mind, and joyfully told Lord William, saying, “I have found out what
mother would like; it is a book she often reads. It got spoilt with
the white ants eating it, and I want to give her another.”
“That is capital,” said Lord William; “what is the name of the book
and who is it by, I mean who wrote it?”
“Oh, I don’t know that,” replied his little friend, looking rather
dismayed, “I think it is called _Infernal Hope_, but I don’t know who
wrote it.”
“Never mind, little man, I will soon find out, don’t worry, it is a
funny name, but I will soon get it for you. If I write to a man I
know who keeps a big book shop, he will be sure to know and send it
at once.”
Lord William made a point of finding out from another member of the
family what the book was without giving away his little friend’s
secret. It was Archdeacon Farrer’s _Eternal Hope_, and it arrived
duly in a beautiful cover in time to give pleasure to both the little
invalid and his mother.
Some years after this, when I was giving a children’s party at home
in England, Lord Bill asked, “May this child come, please?” Of course
I replied I should be charmed, and certainly the children were;
I never saw bairns enjoy themselves more. He pretended he was an
elephant at the Zoo, and allowed them to sit all over him while he
travelled about on all fours giving them rides, then pretending to
fall down and roll with them. When he thought they were tired of this
he crawled under the table in the dining-room and pretended he was a
bear in a cage, and had to be fed by the children through the bars
formed by the legs of the chairs arranged around him.
After the last happy child had gone home, Lord William and my
youngest brother, who had likewise been assisting, feeling rather
limp and exhausted, suggested they would like a wash and brush up.
After this operation both were due at opposite ends of London; it
was pouring with rain, and there seemed to be a scarcity of cabs.
The servants whistled until they were nearly black in the face, as
my brother expressed it; at last they succeeded in attracting the
attention of one hansom; then each man was too polite to take the cab
from the other, and as they were going in opposite directions they
could not share it. My brother told Lord William to jump in and he
would find one for himself, or wait with me until another arrived.
Lord William would not agree to this, and told my brother to jump in.
It ended in their struggling fiercely in the street, each trying to
put the other into the cab. The cabby at first looked on in awe and
wonderment; he was anxious to keep the cab dry, and each time one
of the strugglers was nearly deposited in the cab, up would go the
glass, then as they subsided for a fresh effort on the pavement down
went the glass again, as the cabby saw all was not decided. He was
now entering into the spirit of the game, and settled down to watch
and be ready to receive the missile when it eventually arrived.
By this time another cab had turned up, but nobody took the least
notice of it. A small crowd of wet errand boys had collected to watch
the fun, and I was momentarily expecting a policeman to appear on the
scenes and take them both into custody.
At last Lord William won the day, and from behind the curtains in
the dining-room window I saw my bruised and shin-barked brother
chucked into the cab while in response to the cabman’s “Where to?”
Lord William replied, “Home for lost dogs, and drive like the devil.”
Needless to say neither my brother nor Lord William looked like
paying visits after this romp; their hats had been knocked off and
clapped on again by the servants, and small boys looking on, only to
roll off once more. Ties had waltzed round, and were looking out from
unaccustomed places, collars looked shy and drooping; but I am flying
too far ahead; and the Simla Gymkhanas require and deserve a little
space before passing on.
The subject of these memories was always full of new ideas for
the amusement of Simla. Amongst other races he organised, was the
Victoria Cross Race, which was exciting, the idea being that each
rider had to place a dummy figure of sorts lying on the ground or in
some perilous position, the riders would then have to ride as hard
as ever they could over certain jumps, pick up the figure, and bring
it back over more jumps into safety, just as if they were trying to
save life. These figures were often really well got up, one perhaps
dressed as an ayah, another as a child, a soldier, war correspondent,
and so on. It was most amusing to watch the struggles while picking
up the figures and remounting again. During one of these races Lord
William elected to rescue a war correspondent who was supposed to be
wounded. He succeeded in picking him up, and was coming over the last
fence with him in great style, when a post, which had no business
to have been left where it was, caught Lord William on the head, or
his head came in contact with the post, giving him a nasty wound,
which bled profusely and caused him to lose the race, but the rescued
correspondent came in useful, as he helped to mop up the gore. Lord
William swore he was none the worse, but must surely have had a very
sore head.
Another invention from the same brain was the cigar race. The riders
had to start, go over some of the jumps, then change mounts. It was
arranged beforehand whom they would change with, it had to be one
that had started in the race; then light a cigar, remount quickly,
and finish the race with the cigar still alight. This was essential.
The agitation was great when the matches would not light, their
heads broke off, or the ponies objected, some of which saw no fun in
it and declined to wait and see the rest.
Then for another change the ponies and their riders had to jump
through big paper hoops after the fashion of circus entertainments.
This race generally led to merriment, as the ponies did not care
for the game, and ran in every direction to avoid the ordeal. The
umbrella race was a good one. Riders had to be mounted on their own
ponies, which they had to saddle themselves, when a bell was rung,
then open an umbrella, which had to be carried open over the jumps.
The opening of the umbrella generally caused trouble.
The race for people who had never ridden in one before was usually
comic; elderly sportsmen and timid youths were persuaded or goaded
into entering, and it provided all sorts of novel conditions and
situations.
Riding up from one of these gymkhanas on a newly purchased pony,
which had seemed to me very quiet and suitable to narrow paths and
hill-climbing, it suddenly turned nasty on hearing the clatter of a
horse coming up hurriedly behind him, promptly laid his ears back and
turned his tail over the side of the khud, while I had the unpleasant
experience of hearing loose stones and earth giving way under his
feet and rattling down hundreds of feet below. I thought I had seen
my last gymkhana. I leaned as far forward as I possibly could, to
keep my weight off his quarters and give him a chance, for he was
beginning to think he had done something foolish, and was scrambling
to keep foothold with his fore feet, when Lord William, whose
horse’s clatter had caused the outbreak of displeasure on the part
of my mount, came to the rescue, and seizing me more or less by the
hair of my head landed me safely, the pony slipped down a little way,
but got entangled in some bushes, and so gave time to several kindly
helpers who rescued him. Lord William then insisted on our saddles
being changed, as he would not hear of my riding the wicked pony
any more; I therefore had a charming beast of his to take me home,
while he taught mine a lesson. When he turned up later he told me he
thought the pony must have been drugged when I bought it, as it was a
nasty, vicious brute, and had tried to crush his legs against first a
tree and then some railings after I had left him with it.
The fair held once a year at Sipi, a few miles outside Simla, was
usually a day of extra festivities. Lord William’s picnics there were
most enjoyable, being arranged and managed as everything he undertook
was managed, with forethought for everybody’s comfort. His organising
powers were extraordinary, while his peculiarly gracious and courtly
manner added charm to all the functions he arranged. Even in the
matter of food everyone’s particular taste was catered for.
With the exception perhaps of Sir Spencer Ponsonby Fane, I never met
anyone with such a talent for organising State functions and great
occasions as Lord William, and certainly the latter was the more
popular and caused less offence than his old friend did at times.
The road from Simla to Sipi is just a pleasant distance for a ride,
but along the edge of precipices and through an alarming dark tunnel,
which is quite exciting if riding a quarrelsome horse, for in the
darkness you often meet a crowd of ponies being driven through with
big bundles on their backs. They are usually being driven through
by pedestrian natives. The situation at times lends itself to some
mix-ups and chatter.
The surrounding tribal women gather themselves together, decked
out in all their best, some with a view to finding suitable mates,
others to sell their jewellery and gew-gaws. The Thibetan women often
realise big prices for their turquoise and silver ornaments. It is
a great day amongst the hill tribes for exchange and barter, indeed
sales of all sorts.
There is also ceremony attached to this fair, as some of their gods
are brought to shower blessings on all the chosen ones. Such curious
figures some of these deities possess, they baffle description,
being quaint figures, half man, half beast, half nothing. Some do
not possess any legs, others we presume have, but are clothed in
mysterious garments, leaving much to the imagination. One year
Lord William gave his picnic in a villa built there by an Italian
confectioner, which sounds strange in the Himalayan mountains
surrounded by Thibetan females and other hill tribes. We also must
have looked a little out of place, indeed I think we always do look
out of place in the gorgeous colour-loving East.
Lord William was the life and soul of Simla, and exceedingly popular
with everybody. One of his most charming traits, and one which I
admired much, was his gentle, polite manner to natives. Once young
Englishmen arriving from home considered it fine and grand to be
rude and rough to natives when they were stupid, and made mistakes,
which very often arose from their own ignorance of the language, and
therefore being unable to express themselves intelligibly; I have
heard a young subaltern saying he had saddled his pony, when what
he wished to say was the syce was to do so, the young man’s grammar
being defective, for which the natives had to suffer. Lord William
was most particular in giving his orders to see they were understood,
and gave them in a clear polite way which was most refreshing;
naturally the natives loved him, would do anything for “Lord Brasspot
Sahib.”
Many of his friends said he was a great loss to the Service. Once
when a great friend of his was walking round Jakko (the only decent
road round on one side of Simla, a sort of continuation of the Mall)
with General Sir George Chesney, who wrote that clever book _The
Battle of Dorking_, Lord William rode by at a gallop, taking his
hat off to Sir George in a way quite peculiar to himself; it always
seemed to imply so much, respect, affection, compliment, pleasure at
seeing you, and everything else of the kind, leaving each individual
feeling comfortable and pleased. As he passed, Sir George, who was
walking with one of the members of the staff and as already stated
an old friend of Lord William’s, turned to his companion remarking,
“There goes a leader of men. Instead of being Military Secretary to
the Viceroy he ought to be commanding a cavalry brigade; he would be
unequalled at that work, always supposing he was not turned out of
the service for disobedience to orders.”
Another friend, a clever lady of that time at Simla, speaking of Lord
William’s character generally, said, “It is not Bill’s cleverness or
quickness to grasp the situation, but what he has got in an eminent
degree is what Solomon had. I have always thought that Solomon’s
great wisdom was much exaggerated, and that what he really had in
pre-eminence, and Bill has too, is tact, doing the right thing at the
right time. For instance ... it was not Solomon’s great knowledge
that bamboozled the Queen of Sheba, but knowing when she wanted a
foot-stool!”