CHAPTER XII

A WINNING YEAR

On Leave--At the Derby Once More--Lord Lansdowne Takes Office--Conjurer’s Discomfort--A Gentle Reproach--Irishmen in India--Another Racing Partnership--A Turf Club Inquiry--Paperchasers--A Telegram from Lucknow--Lord William’s Health--Jockey in Trouble Again

Three months is not a long leave to spend at home, it seems to be all coming and going; it really was not long enough to pick Lord William up properly--he was badly in need of English air and fare.

A good part of this brief holiday was spent racing and attending to racing matters. He bought a horse called Pennant, winning a race with him at Croydon value £200. Oberon was another he purchased, but turned out rather unreliable. Clarion was also added to his string.

Being at home in time to see the Derby run, he was enthusiastically greeted by all his old friends, and had a great time. I rather think it was at this Derby or Ascot that Sir Claude De Crespigny coming up behind what he recognised as a Beresford back, said “Good morning, Marcus,” and then, seeing he had made a mistake and it was Lord William, asked whom he should apologise to? Without an instant’s hesitation came the reply, “Marcus, of course, you’ve taken the elder brother for the younger.”

All the Beresford brothers were smart at repartee; indeed I think they would be hard to beat. Someone asked Lord Charles which of his brothers he considered the quickest at repartee. To which he replied: “Marcus. It was only this morning when walking down Regent Street, ahead of us was a doddering old Irish peer, one of the Backwoodsmen who came over once a year to vote against Home Rule, I said, ‘Marcus, if you were a despotic monarch would you keep that Irish nobleman in your House of Lords?’ ‘Yes,’ said Marcus, ‘I think I should, but I should fire him first on the _Coronet_.’”

The smartness of this may be lost upon people who are not horsy and therefore do not know that the part of a horse’s anatomy between the fetlock and the hoof is termed the coronet.

The Marquess of Lansdowne succeeded Lord Dufferin as Governor-General of India, holding the office from 1888 to 1893. No events of great importance occurred during his administration; there were some small frontier expeditions, but we did not hear much about them.

In 1893, at the end of Lord Lansdowne’s reign, Sir Mortimer Durand, then Foreign Secretary to the Indian Government, was sent on a mission to Kabul with a view to defining the limits of influence of the British Government and the Amir, with respect to the independent tribes in the wide belt of country between Afghanistan and British India. However, we are not yet dealing with 1893 but 1888, when Lord Lansdowne had only just taken office. He was fond of horses and racing, therefore watched his Military Secretary’s horses work with sympathetic interest.

From 1888 to 1894 were Lord William’s best racing years in the East, and all his spare time was devoted to it.

At the November Lucknow meeting his racing partner, His Highness of Durbangah, won the Stewards’ Purse with FitzWilliam, Dunn up, Daphne the Dilkoosha Stakes, Soheil, an Arab, the Pony Handicap. On the third day, a pony named Brandy the Paddock Stakes for maiden ponies, besides various others which I forget.

At the Calcutta chief meeting FitzWilliam won the Trials by way of a good beginning. Eunice, who had at one time and another won a good many races for Lord William, now won the Karnaul Stakes. Metal was backed for a small fortune for the Viceroy’s Cup, when one of those unexpected things happened which must always be reckoned with in racing; he was beaten by his stable companion making the pace too hot for him, and Myall King again romped in a winner. They also won races with Pekoe and Shamhad, while a grey English mare named Venus, whom nobody expected to do anything, won the Eclipse Stakes for them. Lord Clyde and Clarion won a couple of races at the Extra Meeting, making a tremendous winning year, but not a profitable one taking it all round.

It was at this juncture that beautiful Arab pony Blitz came upon the scenes; the charming picture of him was given to me by Admiral Sir John Hext, who agreed with Lord Bill “he was one of the best that ever looked through a bridle.” Lord William sold Metal about this time for £500 to someone in Australia.

During the Simla season he rode a good many races himself on Hardware, Nancy and Shamshad. He also won a match on Hakim against Mr. Laureston’s Prince Charlie, 2000 rupees a side.

In July news reached Lord Bill of the death from heart disease of Mr. Fitch, who for some years had looked after and conducted the Calcutta lotteries, also acted as secretary to the Dehra Races. The poor man died in England while home for a holiday. Lord William felt much regret, for he had been closely associated with him, naturally, over racing matters.

Mr. Fitch was another of the many men his lordship had befriended; in fact had been set on his feet and owed all his success in life to him.

The season was jogging along much in the usual fashion, plunging from the sublime to the ridiculous and the ridiculous to the sublime all the time. In India we all become dual natured, whether it is the climate, the atmosphere we live in, or the desire to leave no time _to think_ I do not know; but we may in the morning be told, someone with whom we have been in daily touch is dead--we say how sad, open our letters, and make all our arrangements for the day’s amusements, which we fulfil, leaving just time to pay a last tribute to one whose hand we have so often held, whose voice and laughter is still sounding in our ears; we then hurry home from the cemetery and go out to dinner, or to the theatre, and home to bed late, hoping to be so tired that sleep will claim us immediately. It is not that we are callous really, far from it; the sad news in the morning has left a lonesome feeling in our hearts, an aching for the poor body who such a short time ago was full of all he or she were going to do when they went “home,” it makes home seem very far away and the present so full of prickling possibilities, and we feel we must laugh or cry, and our English objection to wearing our hearts on our sleeves makes us appear gay, and thus we are pitch-forked from the sublime to the ridiculous and vice versa, still if we never reached the sublime we should miss the picturesqueness.

I once asked Lord Bill when we were speaking of this very matter, that is to say, the amount of feeling we contrived to hide in our everyday life, when he told me of several strange things that had happened in his life of which he had had strong pre-sentiments; one was in connection with racing, and the others purely private matters; this led me to ask him if he was superstitious; he replied, “I like to think I am not, but I am always very careful not to wound people’s susceptibilities on that point, having some of that feeling which is supposed to make us wondrous kind.”

Superstition is a thing I suppose that can hardly be described or accounted for, as some of the happenings in our lives refuse to be explained by any hitherto understood methods or any rules or lines of our acquaintance; and also there are times when we are not ourselves, oh strange and bitter paradox!

Lord William’s way of keeping people in order was very much to the point generally, and yet he did it very charmingly. An A.D.C. once had been hauled over the coals by him, and at the end of it said, “What a good fellow Lord Bill is, how thoroughly he rubbed me down, and yet how like a gentleman.”

Another rather amusing instance was when the Rajah of Nabha was giving a party or entertainment to Lord Lansdowne. A conjurer had been engaged to amuse those present; he was a rather persistent personage, at that time wandering round India seeking a living, and performing at native courts.

Lord William, who of course had the arranging of all this sort of functions, told this professor his entertainment must not last more than twenty minutes; this he strongly objected to, declaring it would entirely spoil his show, did not give him a chance, and so on, he would require at least an hour. While expressing his sorrow at causing so much annoyance and disappointment, Lord Bill stuck to his point and said not more than twenty minutes could possibly be allowed; he evidently saw defiance in the man’s attitude, and made his arrangements accordingly.

The performance began, Lord William looking on, watch in hand. At the end of a quarter of an hour the British magician was warned he had only five minutes more. He took no notice, and continued his lofty way. At the end of twenty minutes he was told to stop. Still he took no notice, continuing his tricks and patter, when at a sign from Lord William a native conjurer, who had been watching huddled up in a corner, bounded into the middle of the floor with a tom-tom and commenced a most deafening and unearthly noise. A tom-tom, it should be explained, is a rattling sort of thing rather like a drum gone wrong. The native had been waiting for the sign of command, watching the conjurer much as a terrier watches a rat, waiting to be told to “Go.” This indignity was too much for the white performer, he collapsed, and the native then proceeded to make mango trees grow in a few seconds out of stones and from under flower-pots, etc. Those present were much tickled at the whole proceeding.

One more of Lord William’s gentle reproaches. This time it was addressed to a youth fresh out from home, where he had been much spoilt; he was complaining about the disrespectful way the regiment he had just joined treated him, he was not accustomed to be treated in such a manner. The poor lad was learning that painful but wholesome lesson, his value in public opinion, and he did not like it. Thinking he had a sympathetic listener in Lord William, and not knowing him as well as some of us did, the twinkle in his eye did not act as a warning, and at last the lad worked himself up to such a pitch of feeling over his wrongs that he said he should write to his mother and tell her he should return home at once. No words had come from Lord Bill, who appeared to be full of interest and sympathy, but when he was told that the unhappy youth meant to return to his mother, he said sweetly and quietly, “But, my dear chap! think what a disappointment it would be to her!” Even then the young lad did not at first grasp what was meant, but when Lord Bill added, “After fixing you up with new shirts and pocket handkerchiefs, to have you back on her hands so soon.”

Lord William, seeing the boy was nearly tearful, walked off with him, arm-in-arm, talked it all over quietly, gave some good advice, and, I understand, left the poor boy happier and probably much wiser.

What a number of Irishmen have ruled in India and been famous there. Lord Mayo, born in Dublin, who in 1868 succeeded Lord Lawrence. I should think he was the only Governor-General who had farmed for his livelihood, and be it noted made enough to live upon. When he came of age he was Mr. Bourke. His father, whose eldest brother was then living, could not afford him any sort of allowance, but rented one of his farms to him to try and make what he could out of it, and I have been given to understand he did make it pay, which is more than many gentlemen farmers do, methinks!

Lord Mayo is reported to have said, “And many a long day have I stood in the market selling my beasts.”

Then there was Lord Connemara, Governor of Madras, responsible for the well-being and happiness of thirty million souls; Lord Lansdowne, a Kerry nobleman; Lord Roberts, a Waterford hero of Kandahar fame; Lord William Beresford, V.C., the unequalled Military Secretary and patron of the turf; Sir George White, V.C., who brought Burmah into order; Sir David Barbour, a perfect juggler in figures, who brought the much feared and dreaded financial deficit of the country to a considerable surplus, and many more if there were time and space to recount them.

The Annandale Racecourse was now enlarged and levelled. It had cost large sums of money, but was satisfactory, and the races now began to draw horses from Umballa and Meerut. The lotteries on the first day’s racing after the new course was “declared open,” as they say at bazaars, amounted to 20,000 rupees, so Lord William hoped it would not be long before the debt on the ground was paid off. A little lady, who was one of Lord William’s most devoted admirers (aged six), was crying one day at Simla when he happened to look in on the way down to one of the gymkhanas, and when he asked her what was the matter and took her on his knee, she threw her arms round his neck weeping salt tears down his collar, saying, “Mover won’t let me go and see you run in your pyjamas.” This required a little explanation. He gathered she had heard her mother and friends talking about some race they hoped he would win at the coming gymkhana. Not having been very long in the country she had got a little mixed between gymkhana and pyjamas. Lord Bill pleaded so hard for his little friend to be allowed to go to the meeting, consent was at last given, and he said he could see in the child’s eyes how disappointed she was that he did not appear in pyjamas after all.

In October the usual exodus took place, and Lord Bill found time to see some of his horses win races at the November 1889 Lucknow meeting. Blitz, beautiful Blitz, won the Dilkoosha Stakes; Nellie the Little Go Chase, FitzWilliam the Bar Cup, Betsy the Standard Plate. At Dehra, Meerut and Umballa he won four races. He rode in the Meerut Charger Race himself, winning on Jim. At Pindi he rode one of the races, winning on Landshart II; the other two were won by Daphne and Ensign. Four races in one day to the credit of his stable.

A little later, at the Calcutta 1889-90 races his Euclid seemed to be losing form, but Pennant was going strong and won the Trials; Chester also won the Pony Cup.

Lord William’s racing partner, His Highness the Maharajah of Durbangah, was most anxious to be a winner of the Viceroy’s Cup, and Pennant being in Lord William’s opinion the likely winner, with his characteristic kindliness sold the horse to His Highness just before the race, so that the Durbangah colours might be carried. The horse won easily, greatly to his new owner’s pleasure.

That wonderful pony, Lord Clyde, won the International Pony Race.

Speaking at the Turf Club dinner Lord William confessed he thought a _big_ stable a mistake. In spite of having gained this experience, which led people to imagine he intended to reduce his stable, he added to it, and for the first time sent some of his horses to Madras to see what he could do there. At the Autumn Meerut Meeting he had no luck this year with his horses, chiefly owing, no doubt, to their usual jockey, Dunn, who knew their temperaments and little ways, being away at the time ill, which was hard on the horses and hard on their owner.

The big Calcutta meeting on December 26th, 1889, saw the beginning of the Presto row, which most racing people will remember. The horse was entered for the Walter Locke Cup, and was expected to win, Dunn riding, but was not even placed! It was suggested that it was the result of getting off badly at the start, the horse swerving round, losing several lengths. This caused some comment and much disappointment, which reached boiling point two days later, when on the 28th Presto again ran with Dunn up for the Kooch Behar Cup, 1¼ miles, winning easily, there never being a moment’s doubt from start to finish that the race was his, even leaving Moorhouse, a very fast horse, and several others hopelessly behind.

The public were now thoroughly upset, though on the face of the thing it seemed natural that if the horse lost so many lengths at the start in the race on the 26th, it would quite account for relative positions at the end of the two races. There were, however, those who considered Dunn’s riding was at fault, therefore the Stewards of the Turf Club held an enquiry into it. Mr. Gasper, the clever lawyer who has already been introduced, and from whom Lord William bought Mercury, appeared to uphold the complaint. Whether Dunn was in any way to blame for this different running of Presto I am not able to state, but be that as it may, he stood very little chance in any case with Mr. Gasper up against him, he being the most brilliant criminal lawyer Calcutta had ever seen, and he at any rate believed Dunn to blame, and waxed eloquent in consequence.

After a long and tedious investigation, over which there had been some feeling, the Stewards fully exonerated Lord William, and while not stating Dunn pulled, they were of the opinion he deserved censure for bad riding, which had certainly justified the enquiry.

The whole affair was much to be regretted, and makes one wonder how a man can be found who cares to have his honour resting in the hands of paid servants like jockeys, trainers, and so forth, when any day what a man prizes more than anything else in the world may be thrown to the winds, through absolutely no fault of his own.

The course at Calcutta had been expanded, and the buildings improved, greatly owing to the efforts of the sporting and popular merchant Mr. Charles Moore, who took great interest in racing and the bettering of all its conditions.

Following the Calcutta meeting came Tollygunge, where the stable finished the season well, Blitz winning the Belvedere Stakes in January 18th, 1893, Gold Leaf the Sensation Handicap, Traveller the Long Distance Handicap, FitzWilliam the Spring Purse, and Nellie the Pony Chase.

I had almost forgotten the cold weather paper-chases, having so much of interest to recount in the way of racing. Lord Bill was very fond of riding after paper, and the Calcutta Paperchases were no child’s play. He ran second in the Cup in the cold weather of 1880-81, riding Oliver Twist, third on Mariner 1881-82, first on Premier in 1882-83, first on Diamond in 1887-88.

Captain Muir, commanding the Body Guard, who has already been mentioned as having been left in charge of Lord Bill’s affairs when he started for Zululand, won the Calcutta Paperchase Cup three years running on his Warwickshire Lad, I believe, in the cold weather of 1877-78--1878-79--1879-80. The only person that I know of with such a record.

I ought perhaps to explain that the Viceroy and each Governor has a Body Guard for escorts, guards, sentries, etc., much the same as the Household Cavalry in England with the King.

The Viceroy’s Body Guard was very impressive with its scarlet uniform and lances.

What a gift it is to be able to speak well. Lord Bill was a happy speaker, always to the point, and always amusing, and how people do like to be amused. We have only to look at the money made by humorists like Mr. George Robey, who earns £200 a week to make people laugh, and is worth it, or he would not receive that handsome money; Little Tich with his £250 a week, or Cissy Loftus, the mimic, who received £250 a week for her services.

Compare with this the pay of some of our Indian officials, toiling in the heat, often separated from all that makes life lovely. Truly it is better to be funny than great, but then after all it is great to be funny. Lord William thought every boy ought to be taught to speak, and considered debating societies excellent practice for them, which no doubt they are, teaching them not only to think, but to express themselves intelligibly and to frame their sentences.

As Lord William expressed it, “Everybody has not got the gift of the gab,” but most can acquire it, and no doubt this is true to a great extent; some great speakers have been miserable failures to begin with, though overflowing with things they wanted to say. Disraeli was an example. His first speech in the House of Commons was an utter failure, possibly partially from nervousness, also want of practice; eventually his phraseology was both forceful and picturesque.

While Huxley, giving his first lecture at the Royal Institute, I am told, was quite painful, so much so, that he received a letter imploring him never to speak again, which was not encouraging.

Some can speak and cannot write, others can write and cannot speak. This has been brought home to me lately while turning over old letters and documents searching for those relating to the subject of these memories.

I have come across forgotten letters that I have received at different times from India, Afghanistan, Zululand, Burmah, South Africa, East Africa, Russia, France, Egypt, in fact from most of the places where there have been stirring times during my life.

Many of the letters written by the chief actors, others from those who at the time of writing were taught “not to think, but to do as they were told--thinking was for their superiors!”

It has interested me placing them side by side and studying the different views held by the writers of the various situations they were dealing with, not all the facts being by any means in accordance with the accounts that have been handed down for our digestion. Some of these writers could have thrown very vivid light on various situations, but they have carried their griefs and in some cases their injustices with them to their lonely, uncared-for graves.

Amongst these letters are a few written in bald John Bull, plum-puddingy jerky sentences, like roughly sketched in pictures to be filled in later; possibly they found speaking easier than writing. Then there are the letters dealing with the same situations, so eloquent, so full of human sympathy and yet so dramatic that it is almost like living through the experiences oneself.

I suppose mistakes are not sins when people have honestly done their best, but then the best is sometimes painfully foolish, and it is poor consolation to those who have suffered in consequence of it, that it was all a mistake!

We must now hark back to Lord William’s racing. He was hoping to win the Civil Service Cup at Lucknow, the best pony race in India. He and all the staff who could possibly get away from Calcutta went to see it run. Two of Lord William’s ponies were entered for it, namely, the famous Arab Blitz and an English pony named Bustle. The former was a strong favourite, and Lord William thought it a certain win.

Before leaving Calcutta he promised Lady Lansdowne to telegraph to her the result of the race. At dinner that night Sir John Hext asked Lady Lansdowne if she had heard from Lord William as was arranged. She replied “No; I am rather disappointed.” Dinner had not proceeded very far when the expected telegram arrived. After reading it Her Excellency burst out laughing, and handed it to Sir John, who read, “Bustle _in front_ this time.” So the English pony had won the Cup.

Myall King won the Horse Handicap, there being nothing there that could touch him.

Lord William’s health was again troubling him. He had in fact had enough of India and its climate, though he would not allow it. He was advised to go home on leave for a while, which he agreed to do, but did not take long enough to benefit him materially, that curse of India, dysentery, claiming him at intervals.

Before leaving for home he sold Euclid (whom he considered no longer of much racing value) to Count Poloki for £700.

While Lord Bill was at home Weekes, who it will be remembered bought Myall King for him, bought another horse in July for the Durbangah-Beresford stable for 800 guineas. Various items of news reached Lord Bill while at home which were worrying. One being that anthrax had broken out at Dehra in the stables. Those who have had any experience of that disease will be able to picture his feelings on receiving this news, it being quite on the cards that every horse might be dead in a few hours. Poor Shamshad was the first of the victims. Fortunately stringent measures were taken by Willson, Lord William’s trainer, before many had succumbed.

Then followed the unpleasant news that Dunn was in trouble again, for the confederacy stable was active, though Lord Bill was away. This time it appears Dunn’s riding was so peculiar from the moment he left the paddock that the Stewards felt it imperative to institute another enquiry, regarding the running of Cumberland, and they came to the conclusion he had not ridden the horse to win, in consequence of which he was suspended for twelve months, rather taking his breath away, riding being his means of livelihood. This punishment was later added to by disqualification for life, for which no one could feel sorry, if he was unable to serve faithfully such a good master he did not deserve any mercy.

I believe in 1892, thinking Dunn had suffered enough, his sentence was remitted.

Lord William now engaged the services of that first-rate jockey Vinall, and he was out in India by October, when his lordship returned, looking much better for his visit to the German Spas, where he had amongst other things been drinking the waters.

In December racing people’s breath was taken away by finding Lord Bill had bought and landed in the country a couple of South American horses, which under the then existing rules were rated as country-breds and carried weight with that class. Vixen and Westminster were the names of these surprise packets.

At the Calcutta second meeting Escapade, Labby and Goldleaf won races. Pamela also won her first prize, the Walter Locke Cup, while good old Myall King romped away with the Viceroy’s Cup for the third time, value 5850 rupees.

The brilliant lawyer, Mr. Gasper, died in December of this year on the way to England for a holiday; if I remember rightly he died of heart failure. Lord William at once wrote a kindly, sympathetic letter to his wife, which, considering he cannot have felt very warmly towards her husband after the bitter tone he took up against his jockey and horses, was good of him, and I hope the lady appreciated the spirit that prompted him to do this gentle act. Gentle courtly manners are the fruit of noble natures and loyal minds.

January 1st, 1891, saw Lord William gazetted a full-blown colonel and K.C.I.E.