My Brother-Officers—“The Oyster”—In High Society—Our Menagerie
Murree is a very charming town. The houses, which bear some resemblance
to those of Switzerland, but are mostly constructed of wood and have
rarely more than two storeys, are built on the summit and sides of a
ridge, and command magnificent views over forests, cultivated fields,
hills and deep valleys, with the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas in
the distance. There was a fairly good club at Murree, containing a number
of bedrooms for the convenience of the members when they happened to
require them.
In the summer months my battalion was not actually stationed at Murree,
but two miles off in the country, at Kooldunah. The officers lived in
houses and villas very like Swiss cottages, and the men’s quarters
were at the top of a very steep hill, about ten minutes’ walk from the
mess. The battalion was at this time commanded by Lieut.-Colonel H. P.
Montgomery, who had a brother in the Rifle Brigade. Colonel Montgomery,
who was a fine-looking man of about fifty-five and wore a pointed beard
which was beginning to turn grey, was universally popular, as he was
a thorough soldier and devoted to his profession. He did everything
possible to make his battalion as efficient as any in the Service, and
prided himself upon its smart appearance and perfect discipline. He
had the eye of a hawk for mistakes on parade, but would correct those
responsible for them in a good-humoured, kindly manner, very different
from some less experienced C.O.’s, who would often lose their tempers and
swear when anything happened to go wrong.
The senior major, Major Ashburnham, the son of a baronet, was of somewhat
striking appearance, having red hair and a red beard. Like his chief, he
was a first-rate soldier and a thorough gentleman both on and off parade,
and held in high esteem by the officers and men under him. He was known
to his intimates by the nickname of “Brittles,” about which he used to
relate an amusing story:—
Once, when returning to India after being on leave in England, he
happened to meet on board the P. and O., a man whose acquaintance he
had made on the voyage home, when he had been accompanied by some
brother-officers, who had, of course, always addressed him as “Brittles.”
This man, who was bringing his wife out with him, asked permission to
present Ashburnham to the lady, and gravely introduced him as “Major
Brittles,” under the impression that such was really his name.
The junior major, whose name was Algar, was a very plain man, rather
badly marked with the small-pox, and was by no means so popular as
Ashburnham. He was a very keen sportsman, and when off duty was seldom
to be seen without a rifle in his hand. One day I met him near Murree,
when he told me that he had just seen a tiger, but that it had made off,
adding that a tiger would nearly always run away from a man, unless he
first attacked it.
The captains were nearly all very nice fellows. Captain Pauli, into whose
company I was put, was a tall and very muscular man, with a pointed
beard, which gave him a somewhat foreign appearance. He was a great
sportsman, but kept very much to himself, and, except at mess, the other
officers saw little of him.
The adjutant, Sydenham-Clarke, was a very good-looking fellow and always
so beautifully turned out, whether in uniform or plain clothes, that he
looked as if he had just come out of a band-box. He was very kind to the
young officers at their drill and took the greatest pains with them.
He was also much liked by the men, and did not bully them or allow the
sergeants to do so, as was unfortunately the case in so many regiments at
that time. In a word, he was the right man in the right place, and how
rarely this happens in the Service few people would imagine.
When I first came to Murree, I occupied a room in the officers’ quarters.
There was a large room on the ground floor which was unoccupied, and, as
it was so intensely cold, the subalterns amused themselves by playing
a game of battledore and shuttle-cock across a net. Hubert Lovett,
a sub-lieutenant who joined the battalion a week after I did, and
myself were the first to think of this game, which somewhat resembled
lawn-tennis in the way we served. It was taken up afterwards by many
officers who dined at our mess, and is said to have given the idea of
lawn-tennis to the inventor.
Soon after my arrival at Murree, I fell ill with dysentery, owing, the
doctor who attended me told me, to the sudden change of climate. I was
laid up for some time, but when it began to grow warmer I gradually
recovered.
The winter was a very severe one at Murree, and those who were fond
of skating had excellent opportunities for indulging in this pastime.
Fiennes-Dickenson, a lieutenant who had been transferred from the first
battalion of the regiment, which was then stationed in Canada, was a
most accomplished performer on the ice, cutting figures and the letters
of the alphabet as well, and MacCall, a captain, who had also come from
the first battalion, was but little inferior to him. Dickenson told me
that life at Quebec and Montreal was uncommonly pleasant, and that they
scarcely felt the intense cold there at all, as the climate was so dry,
and there was so little wind. He said that it was the custom there for
every officer to have a girl “chum,” who went tobogganing and skating
with him and shared all his amusements. But he never married this young
lady, who always ended by marrying someone else. This “chum” was a girl
usually belonging to society, and was invited to all the balls and
parties given by the regiment and considered quite _comme il faut_.
Dickenson added that he much preferred the life out in Canada to the life
in India, though Murree was the very best station, which was generally
only given to a crack regiment. Dickenson was a lieutenant of some
years’ standing and very well off, having succeeded to a fine property
of his uncle, Lord Saye and Sele, called Syston Court, near Bristol,
although his father, with whom he was not on the best of terms, had the
right of residing there during his lifetime. He was a great talker and
his conversation was often very amusing.
When summer came, the battalion moved to Kooldunah, where I occupied
rooms in a small villa with a garden attached, in which Lovett and
another sub-lieutenant named Sanford also had their quarters. Later on,
we were joined by a young officer named Wilson, who had been transferred
from a line regiment. We got on pretty well together, particularly Lovett
and myself, who soon became great friends, and were constantly together.
Lovett was a strongly-built young fellow, with black, curly hair, very
white teeth, and a good-humoured expression. He was clean-shaven, which
was rare at that time for a soldier. He had a very loud voice, and when
he laughed he did it so heartily that everyone in the room used to turn
round. He was quite colour-blind and never could distinguish one colour
from another. Once he had to paint a river for a plan which he was
required to draw, and would have painted it red instead of blue, if I had
not been helping him.
Sanford was quite a boy, without any hair on his face, tall and fair,
with rather a large mouth, for which reason he was called “The Oyster.”
One day, when he happened to be on duty, a rifleman was overheard by
Lovett to say to another:
“Who is on duty to-day: Lovett or Wilson?”
“Neither,” was the answer, “it’s ‘The Oyster.’”
Much to Sanford’s annoyance, Lovett, roaring, as usual, with laughter,
told the story at mess that night, and remarked:—
“Why, even all the riflemen call him ‘The Oyster’ now!”
Sanford did not like me at all, because he suspected that it was I who
had been the first to bestow this nickname upon him, and it is quite
possible that his suspicions may have been correct, though I cannot be
certain.
Wilson, the remaining occupant of our villa, was a rather good-looking
and very smart young fellow, who spoke Hindustani very fluently. But he
was very conceited, and imagined himself a much greater sportsman than he
was. Once, when he had been on leave to Kashmir, he returned with such
a wonderful collection of big game trophies that none of us could bring
himself to believe that they had all fallen to his own rifle, and MacCall
said to him at mess:—“Wilson, I tell you what it is—you have bought all
that big game from some _shikarri_ in Kashmir!” At this remark Wilson
became furious, and next morning, in the orderly-room, reported the
incident to the Colonel, when MacCall was put under arrest until he had
apologized to his aggrieved brother-officer. This, however, did not cause
him to change his opinion on the subject.
MacCall, whose father was Equerry to the Duc d’Aumale, spoke French
perfectly, wore an imperial with his moustache, and might easily have
been mistaken for a Frenchman. He shared a villa with a sub-lieutenant
named Arthur Powys Vaughan, an exceedingly nice fellow, who had been at
Harrow and had taken his degree at Oxford before entering the Service.
With the exception of our medico, Surgeon-Major Macnamara, the
quartermaster, Fitzherbert, and the junior major, whose wife was in
England, all the officers were bachelors. Consequently, we were very
badly off in the matter of ladies’ society, so far as the battalion was
concerned. Mrs. Macnamara, who was a sister of Sir Howard Elphinstone,
Equerry to the Duke of Edinburgh, was a very charming elderly lady, and
I often used to go and take tea with her and her husband. She was partly
Russian by birth and extremely musical, and took a great interest in the
regimental band, in regard to which she was frequently consulted. I was
put on the band committee and often attended the rehearsals of a morning.
Lovett and I used to pay visits to ladies whom we thought we would care
to know, as is the custom in India. One day, we called on two ladies who
had a charming villa, beautifully furnished, and whom we rather admired,
though we knew nothing whatever about them. They received us very coldly,
at which we were surprised, until Mrs. Macnamara told us that they were
two very fast ladies, who were protected by some well-known officers in
Murree, holding very high positions on the Staff.
When I was alone one day, I noticed a very pretty woman, upon whom
I left my card. A few days later, I received a very friendly note
from her, asking me to dine with her on a certain evening. However,
in the meantime, I sprained my ankle, and was put on the sick list,
and therefore not allowed to go out. But, I thought that, as it would
probably be a _tête-à-tête_ dinner, which I should not like to miss, I
would go in a _jampan_, carried by two men, and no one would be any the
wiser. I hesitated whether to go in plain clothes or in mess uniform,
but finally decided for the latter. I had not made any special effort
to be punctual, and, in point of fact, arrived half an hour late. On
entering the drawing-room, I found quite a number of people impatiently
awaiting the advent of the belated guest, amongst whom I recognized, to
my consternation, the General commanding the troops in the Punjab; and
I was still more taken aback when I learned that I was dining with the
Secretary of State for India, and that my hostess was his wife! However,
these great people were very nice to me, and the General, who did not
seem at all to resent my having kept him waiting for his dinner, asked me
several questions about my colonel and regiment, as, though there were
several other officers present, I was the only “Greenjacket.” For this I
was duly thankful, since if one of the senior officers of my battalion
had happened to be there, I should have got into trouble for going out to
dine when I was on the sick list.
It was the custom to take your _khitmagar_ with you when you dined out,
and I did so on this occasion. The next evening at mess, I noticed my
_khitmagar_ opening a bottle of Château-Laffitte for me, and asked him
where he got it from.
“I saw last night that _Sahib_ liked this wine the best,” he replied,
“so I brought half a dozen bottles of it away from the dinner-party for
_Sahib_!”
I burst out laughing, thinking to myself that I could not well scold my
servant for looking after me so attentively.
_À propos_ of native servants, when I first joined the battalion, I
had a Christian “bearer,” whom I had brought from Bombay, and who
spoke English. But at the end of my first month at Murree, when I saw
my mess-bill, I discovered that a quantity of brandies and sodas were
charged for which I had never had. When I called my “bearer’s” attention
to this, he incontinently bolted from Murree, taking some of my property
with him. However, he was eventually laid by the heels, and I had to ask
for leave off parade to go down to the Law Courts at Murree to prosecute
him. This taught me that it is better not to engage “bearers” who talk
English and call themselves Christians.
Among the senior lieutenants in the battalion was Albert Phipps, a
brother of the Hon. Harriet Phipps, maid of honour to Queen Victoria,
with whom, as I have mentioned elsewhere, I once took tea at Windsor
Castle in my Eton days. Phipps, who was fair and rather stout and always
wore an eyeglass, was a godson of the Prince Consort, the only one who
was still alive. He once told me that Queen Victoria had written a letter
in her own hand, recommending him for an appointment with the Viceroy,
but that the officer who was specially charged with its delivery had the
misfortune to lose it. Rather than permit this officer to be punished
for his negligence, as he undoubtedly would have been, Phipps refused to
allow his sister to mention the matter to Her Majesty, and suffered in
silence the loss of an appointment which was not only a very agreeable
one, but would have meant a great increase of pay. How many men would
have acted as nobly as he did? Very few, I am afraid.
One night, while riding home after mess, along a very dark road, Phipps’s
horse fell with him. He was not hurt, but his eyeglass was broken in two,
and as he could not get another one in India, he wore half an eyeglass
for about three months, until a fresh supply was sent from England.
At the villa where I lived in the summer months we kept several animals,
including a wild cat, which was very savage and nearly as big as a
wolf, a bear, which we tried to tame, a hyena and a monkey. These
animals belonged to Wilson, who one day let the bear loose, and we had
considerable trouble in recapturing it.