LORD RIPON LEAVES INDIA
Arrangements for Entertaining Visitors--Lord de Grey’s Shooting--A
Good-looking Staff--A Fancy Ball--The Baby cries--Lord William
Feeds the Infant--Singing Quadrilles--Pig-sticking--The Tent Club
and Its Members--A Case of Mistaken Identity--The Reputation
Match--Lord William Resolves to Give Up Racing--Lord Ripon’s
Farewell
During Lord Ripon’s time in India a number of people came out from
home to stay with him, some wishing to combine a visit to their
friends with shooting, pig-sticking and globe-trotting. This kept
Lord William busy, as he had to make all the arrangements for their
comfort, and where they were to stay, when the Viceregal Lodge was
full, which was generally the case. Occasionally he turned out of his
own house for guests, searched for suitable bungalows for others,
making everybody comfortable and yet without the least apparent
effort. Rajahs were communicated with, and shoots arranged; horses
were found to suit the various riders, chosen in accordance to their
prowess, programmes made out for each day, and printed instructions
sent on ahead, so that all was in readiness at each halting place,
carriages, horses, servants, food, sport and all the heart of man
could desire.
The happy relations existing between Lord William and the Native
Princes made this easier for him than it might have been for many.
The present Marquess of Ripon, then Lord de Grey, came to stay with
his father, and was anxious to have some big game shooting. He is, as
everybody knows, one of the best shots in England. His game card from
1867 to 1891 gives some idea of his skill and the sport provided. I
think the years 1880 and 1882 were the years he was shooting in India.
GAME KILLED FROM 1867 TO 1891.
(Part 1 of 2)
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Rhinoceros Buffalo Pig Red Deer Partridge
Date Tiger S??? Deer Grouse Pheasants
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1867 8 265 1.179 741
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1868 35 201 1.418 1.601
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1869 35 135 1.659 1.431
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1870 21 498 2.308 2.117
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1871 55 1.408 1.598 1.889
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1872 38 1.498 2.083 2.835
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1873 25 248 2.417 3.050
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1874 3 5 90 2.878 2.345
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1875 3 287 2.882 3.225
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1876 3 1.554 3.394 4.110
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1877 2 4 2.032 2.359 4.235
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1878 4 9 1.669 3.378 4.679
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1879 4 1.344 630 3.140
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1880 9 6 18 31 73 12 1.131 682 531
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1881 5 1.566 3.465 5.014
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1882 2 2 6 1 66 104 10 3.025 2.123 2.370
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1883 5 2.896 1.845 6.119
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1884 10 3.073 3.523 4.347
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1885 5 2.015 2.788 4.620
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1886 20 1.989 1.463 3.383
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1887 57 2.258 3.785 3.387
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1888 4 3.060 853 5.072
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1889 5 3.081 5.751 6.182
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1890 2.006 7.002 6.498
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1891 2.277 1.699 5.794
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2 11 12 19 97 186 378 39.606 63.163 88.715
(Part 2 of 2)
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Wood Cock Wild Duck Capercai- Rabbits Total
Date Snipe Black Game llies K??? Various
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1867 20 22 10 -- -- 719 934 115 4.013
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1868 28 67 23 -- -- 690 543 113 4.719
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1869 26 133 37 -- -- 547 443 122 4.568
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1870 36 53 30 -- -- 893 626 137 6.660
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1871 50 244 42 -- -- 1.093 341 225 6.945
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1872 27 60 31 -- -- 1.108 756 235 8.671
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1873 95 263 85 -- -- 1.027 450 591 8.231
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1874 229 462 131 5 4 1.200 302 1.200 8.854
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1875 176 461 208 -- -- 1.376 576 743 9.937
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1876 30 25 37 -- -- 1.248 890 266 11.557
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1877 35 45 33 11 11 1.496 1.044 309 11.616
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1878 43 44 55 5 6 2.152 667 503 13.214
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1879 132 92 62 9 11 1.125 287 215 7.051
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1880 9 47 54 26 5 501 141 408 3.684
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1881 26 14 43 -- -- 1.058 797 166 12.154
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1882 14 21 44 -- -- 464 1.122 117 9.491
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1883 157 84 155 -- -- 918 1.386 319 13.884
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1884 134 70 70 -- -- 713 1.896 453 14.289
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1885 104 23 31 -- -- 589 2.547 108 12.830
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1886 105 87 72 -- -- 357 786 349 8.611
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1887 104 3 12 -- -- 415 2.328 237 12.586
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1888 31 151 10 -- -- 307 1.523 85 11.096
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1889 100 109 14 38 8 1.747 1.069 135 18.239
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1890 172 105 28 -- -- 1.446 1.120 123 18.500
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1891 34 13 -- -- -- 711 406 271 11.205
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1.917 2.698 1.317 94 45 23.840 22.980 7.543 252.625
LORD DE GREY’S GAME CARD FROM 1867-91
Amongst others who came out were Lord and Lady Wenlock, Lady Charles
Beresford, and later their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess
of Connaught.
[Illustration: GROUP AT BARRACKPORE ON THE LAWN
_Left to right. Standing_: Lady Downe (the late); Mr Primrose
(now Right Hon. Sir Henry), Lord Alwyne Compton (the late); Dr.
Anderson (Viceroy’s Medical attendant); (next figure not known to
author); Lord Downe, Capt. Deane, 17th Lancers; possible Sir Maurice
Fitzgerald; but uncertain; Capt. Poe, I believe; Lord William
Beresford. _Seated_: Lord Ripon, H.R.H. Duchess of Connaught, H.R.H.
Duke of Connaught, Lady Ripon. _On ground_: Capt. Rochfort (now Sir
Alex., Governor of Jersey), Capt. the Hon. Charles Harbord (now Lord
Suffield)]
Lord William found a pleasant bungalow, not far from the Viceregal
Lodge, for Lady Wenlock, while her husband was away shooting, and she
spent a good deal of time sketching. Being of an artistic temperament
she delighted in the scenery and colouring, finding endless
opportunities to practise her art--plenty of work for her brush. Yet
at times the colouring is so superb it defies all efforts of speech
or brush.
Picture the hill-sides one blaze of rhododendrons, sheets of them
leading down to green valleys, where after the rains maidenhair ferns
and wild orchids cling lovingly to the branches of the trees, on
the ground, carpets of little white flowers resembling our lily of
the valley, but lacking its scent, in the distance blue mountains,
behind these purple mountains, behind these again snow-clad peaks,
a brilliant sun shining over all, framing pictures that remain in
memory for life, and yet there are times when the very splendour of
it seizes us with a limitless despair. In these few beautiful moments
when the sun, symbol of deity in the East, is bidding us good-night,
changing all round from rose to red, orange to turquoise, leaving
a tiny twilight, and the day is gone, hidden away behind a mist of
grey. And we think--but no, we will not think, we will go dress for
the “Poggle Khana” or fools’ dance, as the natives call a fancy dress
ball. But of these more later.
I wish to introduce my readers to a group of people taken about this
time. All the men are members of the Viceregal Staff. Lady Wenlock
is in the centre, handsome Lord Alwyne Compton (died in 1911) is seen
sitting behind her; he was one of the A.D.C.’s. When not on duty he
had an affection for a brown velveteen coat and yellow button-hole,
which suited him exceedingly well, his hair, eyes and skin, being
almost Italian looking. Lord William, Military Secretary, is on
Lady Wenlock’s left, and beside him sits Lady Charles Beresford,
his sister-in-law. Then comes Mr. Primrose, Private Secretary to
the Viceroy (now the Right Hon. Sir Henry Primrose). On the extreme
left is Capt. St. Quinten, another good looking young man, who was a
favourite A.D.C. in the viceregal household. Sitting at Lady Charles
Beresford’s feet is Capt. Clough Taylor, who hailed from the same
county as the Ripons, he also was A.D.C. His wife, Lady Elizabeth
Clough Taylor (died in 1896) is sitting on Lady Wenlock’s right.
Behind her stands the Hon. Miss Lawley. Sitting at Lady Elizabeth’s
feet is Capt. Muir, A.D.C. (now Colonel) and Commander of the Body
Guard. In the arm-chair below Miss Lawley is the Hon. Charles
Harbord, A.D.C. (now Lord Suffield), and next to him Capt. Rochfort,
A.D.C. (now Sir Alex. Rochfort, Governor of Jersey).
It will be observed their Excellencies liked good looking men on
their staff.
[Illustration: STAFF AND GUESTS AT VICEREGAL LODGE, SIMLA
_Left to right_: Capt. Rochfort (now Sir Alex. Rochfort, Governor
of Jersey); Honble. Miss Lawley, Capt. Harbord (now Lord Suffield),
Lady Elizabeth Clough-Taylor, Lord Alwyne Compton, Lady Wenlock, Lord
William Beresford, Lady Charles Beresford, Mr. Primrose, Captain St.
Quinten
_On ground, left to right_: Capt. Muir and Capt. Clough-Taylor]
Now I am anxious to tell you about the fancy dress balls.
Some of the dresses worn in India on these occasions are marvellous,
people out there seem to take much greater pains to do the thing
properly, and there have been many anxious moments in case the
dresses should not arrive from Paris or England in time. One fancy
dress ball I remember as being particularly amusing, but it was not
at Simla. Lord William appeared as a Chelsea Pensioner, and was quite
excellent. A good looking woman, wife of an Artilleryman, was “A
Wasp”; she naturally had a tiny waist. The wondrous dress with its
stripy bands of yellow, black gauze wings, and the little antennae in
her head, all well carried out, but the wings made dancing difficult,
so she sat in a corner with the Chelsea Pensioner a good deal. The
poor old Pensioner did not like much light--it hurt his poor old
eyes. But the chief joke of the evening was when a big hefty hospital
nurse carried into the ballroom a very lusty looking big red-faced
baby, with a distinctly blue line along the upper lip. A white
rosette-adorned cap tied under his chin, a short white frock reaching
a little below his knees which stuck out all round from the amount of
material it contained, which, however, helped to support a big blue
sash, matching the shoulder knots; frilled kicksey-wickseys, white
socks and sandal shoes completed this child’s costume. The bottle of
milk which he was sucking, or pretending to suck, was fixed to his
sash, and had a long tube. The nurse put down her charge to toddle
along the floor, still holding his hand, but the baby if left for a
moment began to cry.
It was not long before we discovered in the baby a hard riding man
who had brought some hounds out from home and given us some amusement
with them in the cold weather, his nurse was an officer in a smart
cavalry regiment. Before the evening was over so many practical
jokes had been played on the poor baby that he and his nurse in
self-defence retired and changed into ordinary evening garments; but
not before supper, when Lord William insisted on feeding the baby
with a tablespoon, and dived first into one dish and then another so
quickly that the already red-faced baby became apoplectic; it was
after this he escaped, having been severely patted on the back for a
choking fit.
India has changed since those days when the natives used to be rather
shocked at ladies appearing publicly in evening dress, and at some
of the flirtations, perhaps not entirely peculiar to the East, but
to-day they have become so civilised and Westernised it takes a good
deal more to shock them.
The country is a mixture of shabbiness and gorgeousness, pathos and
childishness. Some of us appear very giddy out there, because if we
did not, we should cry; so ride and dance, keeping up a ceaseless
round of activity, we _say_ because it keeps us in health, which in a
measure no doubt it does, it also leaves no time for thoughts of home
and regrets.
The music of the country is quite peculiar to itself, so is the
dancing, which is poor and monotonous, but, of course, I am
speaking of some years ago, now possibly the Princes are asking
their bandmasters the names of the morsels being played to them,
and are told, as really happened I believe to Queen Victoria once,
who, on hearing a particularly bright tune being played, asked its
name. Nobody seemed able, or inclined, to inform her, but she was
determined to know, and sent specially to the band to ask, the
messenger returned looking a little uncomfortable, and said it was
called “Come where the booze is cheaper.” Probably tunes of that sort
are now the order of the day, having travelled with the motor-car and
latter-day luxuries.
During the winter in India, singing quadrilles were the fashion,
and had to be rehearsed frequently, it was rather funny to see Lord
William being schooled into singing his part of “Ba ba black sheep,
have you any wool?”; he learnt “Where are you going to, my pretty
maid?” much quicker.
It is astonishing the amount of talent that is represented at times
in the hill stations in summer, it is by no means uncommon to
have really good Christy Minstrels, concerts and even high-class
oratorios. (I suppose the latter ought to have been mentioned first).
Lord William did not take part in the big game shooting unless he had
to go officially, as it bored him to tears, but he loved pig-sticking
more than any other form of sport, and used to get a good deal of it
from Calcutta. He belonged to the Calcutta Tent Club, and always said
the best days he had were when with his friend “Archie Hills, on his
own land at Packabari.” Mr. Hills, if I remember right, was an indigo
planter. He appears in the pig-sticking group. For those unacquainted
with this form of sport I will explain it briefly. The game can be
played by one alone, but usually by three or four men who go out
together mounted on horses, and armed with spears to hunt and slay
the boar. My own humble opinion is that Arabs are the pleasantest
mounts for this form of sport, they seem to understand the broken
ground better than any other class of horse and are sure-footed.
The boars are not like our English pork, but very fierce fighting
animals; tigers have been known to fight shy of them. It is wonderful
the way these pigs cover the ground; they are really fast, and
give jumps and bounds of a surprising nature. They generally begin
by going away from the sportsmen, but after a while when they get
annoyed, and think it is time for some fun themselves, they will turn
suddenly and charge the enemy. Some horses that have been ridden
regularly after pig, are clever at dodging these charges, which is
a distinct advantage, a rip from the tusk of a boar is a nasty one,
they always rip upwards, inflicting horrid wounds, when they get the
chance.
The Tent Club, already mentioned, was formed at Calcutta of
pig-stickers, a photo of which will be found with the names of the
most prominent members. I do not remember hearing a great deal about
Lord William’s pig-sticking, beyond the fact that he enjoyed it
above all things, and got as much of it as his duties allowed. It
was returning from pig-sticking in 1880, I think, that an excitement
occurred in which Lord William took part.
[Illustration: SOME NOTABLE MEMBERS OF THE CALCUTTA TENT CLUB
_Left to right, standing_: General Harry Wilkinson, Col. Jim Cooke,
Mr. Macnair, Mr. H. Millett, Mr. Anderson, Mr. W. L. Thomas, Mr. W.
O. Bell Irving, Mr. Playfair, I think; Mr. Jim Henderson, Captain
Muir. _Seated_: Mr. G. Fox, Sir George Greaves, Mr. Carlysle, Sir
Franklin Prestage, Lord William Beresford, Mr. Archie Hills; (next
not known to the author). _On the ground_: Mr. A. S. Chapman, Mr.
Laurie Johnstone, Captain A. Rochfort]
A number of horses, about 250, had been landed from the ship
_Thessalus_, with a view to taking them to Dhurrumtollah, where
stables were ready for them; how to get them there was a matter of
speculation; it was decided a few expert Australians, with stock
whips, should drive them Colonial fashion, all grouped up together,
this answered admirably for some time, until one or two of the
leaders took it into their heads that gas lamps were dangerous
things, and galloped madly away through the streets, followed by all
the rest, simply a mad galloping and hurruishing crowd of horses,
a regular stampede, not a pleasant thing to find advancing towards
you. They rushed with alarming clatter through the streets out
into the maidan or plain, where they broke up into groups, tearing
off in every direction. It took all night and part of the next day
collecting the animals, who by that time had tasted enough freedom
and were not sorry to be caught, but the excitement was great. One
unfortunate man, who was riding home at a belated hour, meeting
this charging cavalcade turned his horse’s head very wisely and was
carried along with them.
Lord William was a good judge of a horse and understood their
training, he was therefore often asked for his advice, and if anyone
had a good horse they wished to sell they usually let Lord William
have a look at it. One day in Calcutta, Mr. John Ralli sent him
for trial a very fine fast trotting mare to look at; his lordship
decided to buy her. The same evening he went for a “walk round” at
Belvedere and saw there a Mr. S. (we will say) and his very handsome
wife walking arm-in-arm. There was a very strong likeness between
Mr. Ralli and Mr. S., and as Lord William passed, mistaking him for
Mr. Ralli, he gave a little pinch whispering, “She’s a ripper.” Mr.
S. immediately replied, “You’re a scoundrel, sir!” Lord William was
very indignant and thought the man had gone mad, as, of course, he
was referring to Mr. John Ralli’s fast trotting mare. Mr. S. was also
angry, thinking Lord William referred to his wife. Rather a funny
story of mistaken identity.
Lord William was with the Viceroy on the memorable occasion when
touring a certain district where the natives had come to the
conclusion that, under the new Viceroy’s rule, they were to have a
free run among the scattered European residents, where several ladies
were living, and when he arrived the said scattered Europeans were
not inclined to give his Excellency a favourable reception! This
episode was referred to as the “White Mutiny.”
The Autumn of 1882 was not a very lucky one from the racing point of
view. Both the Dehra and Umballa meetings were poor and temporarily
somewhat out of favour. The winter of 1882-3 was not much better, at
Calcutta Lord William certainly won a race with Fariz and another
with Mooltan, and he won a match five hundred rupees a side, riding
his Premier against Captain Webb, on Mr. Godjack’s Skirmishe.
In May came the news of his partner’s death, poor Mr. Monty Stewart,
who had gone home sick. In consequence of this, all the horses were
put up for sale, the majority being bought by the Sporting Maharajah
of Jodhpore.
Lord William not being able to afford racing alone, on the lines he
aspired to, now looked round for another partner, and before long he
and the young and rich Maharajah of Durbangah came to an arrangement.
The Rajah had acquired a taste for racing from Major Ben Roberts,
who had just left India to take up some appointment in England. So
now began another partnership, and more money was forthcoming to
purchase valuable horses. Ryder was once more sent to England to
see what he could find, Lord William also went on short leave and
returned with a sprinter named Reputation, Father Prout and Little
Charlie. £2000 was given for Reputation, and before leaving for India
he won the Egremont Plate of £300 and the Glasgow Plate £200, but he
was a nervous horse, did not travel well, was easily thrown off his
oats and did no good in India where the ground was too hard for him,
which was disappointing, for in the Egremont Plate before leaving
England when being ridden by “Archer” he gave 16lbs. to Laceman and
27lbs. to Hornpipe, who were the same age, yet won easily.
Reputation was a smart good-looking horse, bought from a solicitor
I believe named Tidy, whom it may be remembered Lord Marcus once
tackled in his office, ending in fisticuffs and police court
proceedings.
On May 10th, 1883, a great match was arranged between Lord William
and Mr. Leopold de Rothschild: the former backing his Reputation
against the latter’s Brag. Archer rode for Lord William and Fordham
for Mr. Rothschild. The race was run at the Newmarket Spring meeting,
200 sovereigns a side T.Y.C. Matches were quite a fashionable feature
of the sport at this period and were generally arranged overnight and
a surprise addition to the day’s racing.
The excitement was great over this race, many were interested in it,
amongst others the Prince of Wales, Sir J. Astley, Lord Hartington
(afterwards Duke of Devonshire) and many more. Crowds flocked to see
the race run and there was a good deal of money on it. The horses
ran close together most of the course, it was most thrilling, but
eventually Brag gained the advantage about a hundred yards from home,
winning cleverly by a neck. Perhaps for the benefit of those who
are not race-goers I ought to explain T.Y.C. means the two year old
course at Newmarket which is five furlongs and 140 yards. This course
was a long way from the stand; there were more winning-posts in those
days than there are now. It was customary for people to hack over to
the different places to see the finish. Brag had the advantage in
weight as Reputation had to give him 14lbs., which, in the opinion
of many people who were in a position to judge, was considered too
much to ask. Perhaps Lord William was not as experienced at that
time as he was later in that delicate game of matching: considerable
knowledge being necessary to bring it off successfully.
A number of people will not forget that day easily, a good deal of
money changed hands over the race.
It was in the Palace House at Newmarket, Lord William made this
Brag and Reputation match; where Mr. Leopold de Rothschild always
entertained both King Edward and our present King. It is an
unpretentious looking abode but very historic, and was the Newmarket
house of Charles II.
The newly purchased horses arrived safely in India on July 30th,
1883. But now more bad luck attended poor Lord William, for while
riding at Cawnpore in the Gangees Cup he broke his collarbone, and
hardly had he recovered from this than, in a jumping Competition at
Simla, he dislocated his shoulder and was not able to enjoy the Dehra
Autumn meeting.
When once a shoulder has been dislocated it forms a fondness for
the amusement and continues to do it with slight provocation. Lord
William says it happened once through sneezing!
Though unable to attend the Dehra Meeting, his stable was
represented, an Australian named The Mute won the Trials, Action
won the Gimcrack Stakes and Johnnie the Hack race. Later at Meerut,
Lord William was well enough to ride, and on a horse purchased from
the circus proprietor, John Wilson, won the Maiden Chase. At Umballa
riding Johnnie he was triumphant in the Grand Military Steeplechase,
but got a toss in the Grand Annual when riding Jack the circus
horse, but he remounted and finished the race. On the last day of
the Umballa meeting he grew annoyed at the weight his horses had to
carry and refused to start any one of them, declaring he was sick of
racing, and meant to “give it up, and go in for Botany or Erotics.”
In spite of this heroic resolve the following month he was riding at
Lahore.
The Calcutta 1883-4 first cold weather meeting, Lord William had
a walk over for the Monsoon Welter Cup. At the second meeting
Syndicate won the Hooghly Plate, but had only one opponent. In
March, Diamond won the Corinthian Stakes, and Caspian the Sirhind
Plate. Lord William thought a good deal of an Arab they--he and his
partner--owned, named Reformer, and he sent it to England to run at
Newmarket in the Arab races, but the poor beast died in the Red Sea.
In June, the first and second day’s racing at Simla saw Lord William
without a winning mount.
Though Lord Ripon’s time was comparatively free from political
anxieties he had a number of guests to stay with him all to be amused
and catered for, this provided food for thought on the Military
Secretary’s part, who was ceaseless in his endeavours, but the hard
work of that and the constant strain of his racing engagements was
beginning to tell on Lord Bill, and he began to look as if a journey
home for a while would be good for him.
Only those who understand racing know the amount of thought and
care it requires to be successful, even with luck in their favour.
To begin at the beginning, money is not made out of the stakes that
are won, expenses generally throw the balance into the wrong side,
therefore it is betting must do it, and we know Lord William did make
a good deal of money over his racing, but it was thanks to his own
cleverness. To be successful it must be studied as a business; there
are many elements to be taken into consideration and reckoned with,
it is really a vast study. Jockeys have to be chosen and retained.
Trainers found who give satisfaction and understand their work. Races
looked up to suit the horses in the stable, and horses bought to
suit the big-plum races all are keen on winning, and after all these
considerations how often things go awry.
[Illustration: LORD RIPON, LADY RIPON AND STAFF
_Left to right. Standing_: Lord Wm. Beresford and Ponto, Capt.
Charles Harbord (Lord Suffield), Capt. C. Burn, Dr. Anderson, Capt.
Muir, Capt. Leonard Gordon
_Sitting_: Mr. Primrose, Lord Ripon, Lady Ripon, Capt. St. Quinten,
Capt. the Hon. H. Legge
_On ground_: Capt. Roddy Owen, Capt. Rochfort]
It is not reassuring to know that the moment a man takes up racing
his honour no longer remains in his own hands, for now he has to
take his trainer, his jockey, his syce, and his understudies into
consideration, not forgetting his horse. On the face of it, it seems
as if only a very philosophical person could bear the strain.
When things go wrong it is usually put down to either the jockey’s
evil doing, or the owner’s sharp practice, while it by no means
follows that either is to blame. So many things, and so many people
have to be taken into consideration, the horse by no means the least;
for horses like human beings have their good and bad days, their
moods and tempers, but are unable to explain their feelings. Trainers
are likewise not infallible, inclined at times to think some of their
geese have grown into swans (in all good faith), forgetting other
people have a swan or two.
Owners are obliged of necessity to rely a good deal on their
trainer’s judgment, but those who come off best are undoubtedly the
men who keep an eye on their horses, having opinions of their own and
able to carry their own tails. Against this there is the trainer who
will not express an opinion, which is vexation to owners wishing to
discuss their chances.
Then again think of the anxiety attached to sending valuable horses
from place to place to fulfil their engagements; the serious question
of what race will be suitable to each horse, the difficulty of
deciding what and when to buy, what and when to sell, and judging
their public value. Buying race-horses is a different thing
altogether to choosing a hunter or a carriage horse. The temper of
the parents has to be thought of, and indeed traced back a good long
way, also whether any of the family are inclined to be musical. The
shape of horses’ feet is important, and so few people agree about
horses’ points, the wonder is any trainer and owner can be found to
agree.
Lord William looked most carefully after the training of his own
horses, and this is no sinecure; they require constant watching. Some
have capricious appetites and have to be coaxed with dainties or they
will not eat enough, others do not thrive unless they eat grossly and
have to be exercised in proportion; here comes in the valuable gift
of being able to judge condition, many fail in this most critical
point.
It was greatly owing to Lord William’s study of his horses’
characters and temperaments that he was as successful as he was; he
knew (none better) that all cannot be treated alike, in sickness and
in health, as they say in the Marriage Service; he was also perfectly
aware of the uncertainty attached to all matters appertaining to
horse-racing. Horses as a rule do their utmost to meet the wishes of
their riders, but the training is a severe trial, and the tempers of
some give away under it. Their life seems to be one long persecution;
it is to be hoped their feeling of fitness makes up for all the fuss
and regulations.
Logic is no doubt a good training for owners, leading them to sound
judgment, but horses are not given that way.
One good point in Lord William’s training was he did not overtrain,
as a rule his horse had a reserve of staying power.
It will be seen that his lordship had plenty to occupy him, in fact
considerably overworked himself habitually. Yet always cheerful and
comfortably optimistic, and it really requires the temper of an
angel to be able to manage horses, stablemen, jockeys, trainers and
racing authorities. When we bear in mind that this was Lord William’s
recreation, it enables us to form some idea of his busy life.
The State functions which all had to be arranged by him were no
trifle, any mistakes or incompetence on the part of the Military
Secretary might lead to serious trouble and jealousies. The official
visits of the Rajahs to the Viceroy, our King’s representative
for the time being, requires a special knowledge, each having to
be received according to his rank. Some when coming to pay their
respects have to be fetched, as I have already stated, by the
Military Secretary, Under-Secretary of the Foreign Department, and
an A.D.C. A guard of honour has to await his arrival, much red cloth
spread, and a salute fired of as many guns as his rank entitles him,
and they keep a very sharp and watchful eye, carefully noting these
etiquettes, which are of staggering intricacy when receiving and
paying visits. It is also obligatory that the General commanding the
district should be in attendance with his A.D.C. Nothing must be left
to chance. All is prescribed in the official regulations.
At the levees and drawing-rooms the Military Secretary reads the
names on the cards handed to him as each person presents himself
to bow or curtsey. Some of the foreign names are rather posers and
shocking mouthfuls. It requires some pluck to tackle them, and it is
surprising what offence is caused if any mistake is made. Supposing
Mrs. De Larpent Fitz-Jones-Ben-Maurice is presented, and the De is
left out or the Fitz-Jones perchance, many apologies and explanations
will have to be made. Besides these functions the viceregal stables
were looked after by the Military Secretary, the French cook Bonsard
and the English coachman with their native underlings to be kept up
to the mark, the ladies’ maids (who usually require so much more
waiting on than their mistresses) to be amused, and the servants
ready to carry them out in rickshaws or jampans, to eat the air, or
in some cases, riding, and I think no one was overlooked or forgotten.
When on tour his lordship made out each day’s programme in advance,
something after this fashion:
8 a.m. The Rajah of ... will send his Sirdars to ask after
the health of the Viceroy.
9 a.m. His Excellency will eat his breakfast.
10 a.m. His Excellency will smoke and attend to his correspondence.
11 a.m. The Rajah will arrive, and the usual ceremonies take
place.
12.30. His Excellency will return the Rajah’s visit.
1.30. Their Excellencies will have luncheon.
2.30. Sports and tent-pegging arranged by the Rajah for
his Excellency’s amusement.
and so on throughout the day.
Imagine to yourself having to map out 365 days in this fashion and
please everybody! Truly a great man, and some of the big functions
I have been privileged to witness have sadly needed a Lord William
as stage manager; he would have greatly added to the dignity of the
shows and the persons taking part.
The official society in Simla at this period was particularly bright
and happy. The Commander-in-Chief at Snowdon, Sir Donald Stewart,
with his kindly wife and family of cheery, happy young people;
the young men on the Viceroy’s staff, other dignitaries and their
belongings, all like one big family, meeting nearly every day; then
the crowd of visitors, officials from all over India on leave with
their wives, officers up on short leave with wives if they own one,
wives sent up for their health, while the husbands are kept working
on the plains (Lord William being sure to look after them), little
children with pale faces hoping to find some roses to take back to
daddy; Lord William kept an eye on them all, ready to sympathise and
help any he thought needing it.
It was at Simla in Lord Ripon’s time I first met the Rajah of Kooch
Behar and the Maharanee. She had not long been married, was very shy
and rather fragile looking, and wore beautiful silken draperies I
remember. Her husband, the Rajah, was very popular with the English
community, and a great friend of Lord William’s. They had much in
common, as both were fond of racing, polo, and paperchasing, the
latter of course only in the plains and Calcutta.
A few years ago I met the Maharanee again in London, and introduced
my son to her, she being no longer shy but with an assured and very
charming manner, speaking good English and dressed like the rest of
us. My son said how pleased he was to meet her, he had heard me speak
of her so often. She replied with a charming smile:
“And now you meet me I hope you are not disappointed.”
Latterly the Kooch Behars spent a good deal of time in England, where
everybody liked them.
[Illustration: THE LATE MARQUESS OF RIPON, VICEROY OF INDIA]
Lord Ripon’s reign was drawing to a close; he left India in November,
1884. More popular with the natives than any previous Viceroy, he was
also much liked by those who worked with him. He was very loyal to
them, but how glad he must have been to return to his own beautiful
home in England. The following farewell is supposed to have emanated
from his Excellency’s pen, it appeared in some local paper at the
time I believe, and was sent to me as a cutting. I therefore do not
know the name of the paper, so cannot ask its permission to quote it,
but feel sure it will have no objection.
LORD RIPON’S GOOD NIGHT
Adieu! adieu! the land of palms
Fades o’er the waters blue;
The loafers yell, the planters roar,
And weeps the mild Hindu.
Apollo his own Bunder gilds,
As slow he sinks from sight:
Farewell to them and thee for aye,
Unhappy land--Good night!
I leave thy shores to which I steered
With hopes that swelled my heart,
Their shadowy phantoms rise again
To greet me ere I part.
They came not through Sleep’s Ivory Gate,
As once they came, dream-born,
But whence the truer shades arise
From the twin Gate of Horn.
They tell of many a purpose crossed,
Of disconcerted plan:
Of baffled aims that wisely chide
The imaginings of man:
Of fond desires, of fancied good,
As though could power constrain
All means to justest ends and bring
A golden age again.
They tell of angry gathering crowds:
Of Faction’s hate-swayed throng:
Of wild words prompting wilder deeds,
Unstayed by heed of wrong;
The cruel taunt, the scornful jest,
The slander that belies,
The coward hiss that rose unshamed
Before a woman’s eyes.
All save the last in other years
I braved this, this, was spared;
Though fiercer crowds had wreaked the worst
That bigot rage had dared.
I stood for what I deemed the right--
Ye women-slayers say true!
Have cheeks that never paled for them,
Ere blanched for such as you?
To win the fickle breath of praise,
No suppliant knee I bow,
And what once Duty pledged to grant,
No fear shall disavow.
I crave not at your hands for aught
But dues that fair lists owe,
And bear ye as ye will, ye meet
At least a gallant foe.
Yet not alone of these the freight
Their parting message bears,
But auguries of harvest joys
For a seed-time of tears.
The reapers of the summer swathes
Know well that winter’s rain
Must spend its havoc on the soil,
Ere smiles the yellow grain.
So time shall its own wreck repair,
And they who garner, then,
Forget not that the day’s long heats
Were borne by other men.
Yet not in vain the labour now,
Nor scant the meed unsued,
The richest guerdon toil can earn--
A people’s gratitude.
They bring the memories of friends
Who charm on exile shed:
Who lightened weary months of care,
And soothed the fevered bed:
Bold hearts that never failed my side,
In cloud or shine the same:
Still true in the fierce fight that raged
Round Ilbert’s fateful name.
Come hither, come hither, my trusty Aide,
What turns thy cheek so pale?
What latest fair thou leav’st behind,
Believes thy oft-told tale?
If ’tis some fond delusion paints
Thy happiness at stake,
A heart that holds so many loves,
Fear not, will never break.
And she for whom thou sighest now,
That fond and faithful she!
Already smiles on other Aides,
And thinks no more of thee.
A simple primrose is to her
But that and nothing more:
And thou wilt find some newer love
Before thou touchest shore.
Another lord my palace treads,
My reign is past and o’er:
Of me thy shades have seen the last,
Rheumatic Barrackpore!
Let Simla’s typhoid-laden air
Another victim know,
And envy his ungrateful race
That wail in health below.
Farewell to levees, pageants, routs,
To weeks of endless dinners;
To balls where I must lead the dance
With capering saints and sinners.
Farewell to Rajahs and Nabobs:
To fetid pan and attar,
To coming Russians in Herat
And Rent Bills in Calcutta.
Farewell, Societies where meet
In concord, whites and blacks:
Associations that defend
What nobody attacks:
The long addresses that pursue
A Viceroy where he goes:
Farewell to Hunter’s bright romance
And Kimberley’s dull prose.
Farewell to Budgets and Reports,
To critics in the press,
Who nightly weave Arabian tales
Of fiction, fact and guess:
To hourly fears lest Colvin’s glance
Of deficits should tell;
Riots, rupees, and zemindars!
To one and all farewell!
And all the scathing paper wars
Where Secretaries fight
To prove how sharp the pens they wield,
How smartly they can write:
Official minutes, drafts and notes
And boxes that they fill,
To my successors I bequeath
With one unfinished Bill.
With thee, my bark, I’ll swiftly speed
Athwart the ocean’s span,
Nor care what land thou bear’st me to,
So not to Hindustan.
Welcome, welcome, ye hastening waves
That homeward wing my flight!
Welcome the Franchise and the Lords.
Distracted land--Good night.
H. S. J.