CHAPTER XXV

The Oppenheims—St. James’s and Winchester—The Colonel and Beauclerk

Shortly after I had passed my lieutenant’s examination, I was sent to Woolwich, where a detachment of my battalion was to do duty for the Horse Artillery. The room I was given, which belonged to an officer of the R.H.A., was a much better one than I had had in other barracks, and was furnished with some attempt at luxury. In the evening, I dined at the Royal Artillery mess, where their very fine string band played an excellent selection of music, under the direction of its Austrian bandmaster, Ritter von Zauerthal. I was often on guard at Woolwich, which I found very tiresome, as the guard was turned out at night as well as by day, and, as my turn to be on guard came round three times a week, it was pretty stiff work.

While I was at Woolwich, a very smart ball was given at the barracks, which was highly successful, the great variety of uniforms and the toilettes of the ladies combining to make an unusually pretty scene, and an excellent supper being provided. To this ball I invited my old Eton friend, Jim Doyne, who, seeing all the men in uniform, mistook an officer who had come in evening dress for a waiter, and asked him to fetch an ice for a lady. The officer, however, took the mistake in very good part, and did as he was asked, remarking as he handed the ice to the lady, whom he happened to know:—

“I am very pleased to make myself useful, and, as I have come in evening clothes instead of in uniform, I can quite understand your partner taking me for a waiter.”

During my visit to Vienna, Herr Neuss had given me a letter of introduction to Frau Oppenheim, the wife of a wealthy wine-merchant in London, who, before her marriage, when she was known as Louise Epstein, had been an actress at the Burg Theatre, and had been considered the most beautiful woman in the Austrian capital. I called upon her and found her very charming, though few traces of the beauty which had captivated so many hearts, including, it was said, that of a British Ambassador, now remained. Her husband, an immensely stout man, invited me to dinner and gave me a most excellent one, _arrosé_ with his choicest wines. In return, I invited the Oppenheims to lunch with me at Woolwich, and asked a lieutenant of my battalion named Featherstone to meet them. Featherstone, I am afraid, was somewhat disappointed with Madame’s looks, as he had been expecting to see a much younger woman.

After lunch, which was served in a private room at the mess, Herr Oppenheim expressed a wish to see the 80-ton gun fired for the first time, but I told him that it was impossible, as he was a foreigner. However, he protested that he had lived so many years in England that he had almost come to look upon himself as an Englishman, and at length he persuaded me to take him. When the great gun was fired, the worthy wine-merchant was so alarmed that he staggered backwards, exclaiming: “_Ach, du lieber Gott!_” And had it not been for a man standing by, who supported him in his arms, and whom his weight nearly upset, he would have fallen down.

When I invited a friend to dine with me at the Artillery mess, as I frequently did, I was obliged to be there to receive him; otherwise, he would not be admitted. On my inquiring the reason for this rule, I was told that one evening a man presented himself at the mess, saying that he had been asked to dine by a certain officer, whose name he gave. The officer in question did not put in an appearance, and when dinner was announced, his supposed friend was invited to sit down to table, which he did. Presently, the attention of one of the mess-waiters was attracted by the singular behaviour of this individual, who was calmly pocketing as many spoons and forks as he could lay his hands on, whenever he fancied that he was unobserved. The mess-waiter reported these proceedings to the mess-president, and the man was at once given in charge, when it was discovered that he was a well-known thief. The Artillery mess was a very large one, from two hundred to three hundred officers sitting down to table, many of whom brought guests with them. Consequently, they had to be very careful, as there was always so much silver lying about.

As it was summer, I frequently went up to London by steam-boat, which was a very pleasant way of making the journey. My companion on these river-trips was a lieutenant of my battalion, named Ernest Hovell Thurlow, an exceedingly nice fellow, who wore an eyeglass and appeared to take life in a very philosophical manner, as he never allowed himself to be put out by anything. He was a grandson of Lord Thurlow, and his mother had been a Miss Lethbridge. He was married, but his wife, a very pretty woman with wavy, golden hair, was staying in town for the season.

After we had been some months at Woolwich, our detachment received orders to relieve the Grenadier Guards at St. James’s Palace. We detrained at Waterloo Station and marched to the Palace, in front of which the band of the Grenadiers was playing while the guard was being mounted. Our Colonel, who had come up to town expressly for this ceremony, and was in plain clothes, sent me to tell the Grenadiers’ band to stop playing, at which the bandmaster, Dan Godfrey, appeared to be rather surprised. However, he obeyed the order, when the band of our battalion played in its turn, after which the guard was relieved.

I had a very comfortable room in St. James’s Palace, where I slept while I was on guard there, and, with the other officers, was made an honorary member of the Guards’ Club. I found the duties rather fatiguing, as the sentries to be visited were so far apart. The officers of the Guards always visited them in hansom-cabs, but Captain Tufton, who was in command of our detachment, would not allow me this luxury, and I had to go on foot.

I invited Jim Doyne to dine with me one evening at the Palace. The dinner was excellent, and was provided free of cost to the officers, though they had to pay 15s. for each guest. The champagne was very good and the liqueurs as well, and a bottle of brandy was opened which was of the year of the Battle of Waterloo. Amongst the guests was a Lieutenant Childe-Pemberton, who was formerly in our regiment, but was then in the “Blues.”

After I had been a short time at St. James’s Palace, my battalion was ordered to the Tower. But the Colonel, who had a good deal of influence at the War Office, persuaded them to countermand this order and send it to Winchester instead, where the detachment from St. James’s joined it.

I had very comfortable quarters at Winchester, and life there was very pleasant, as the country round was very pretty, and we were invited to all the best houses in the neighbourhood. One of the most pleasant houses to which I went was that of Lady Frederick. It was a charming old residence, standing in the midst of beautiful grounds, and Lady Frederick and her son were most kind and hospitable.

The depôt of the Rifle Brigade was also at Winchester, and the officers, some of whom were very nice fellows indeed, frequently dined at our mess. Amongst them was a Lieutenant F. Howard, whose acquaintance I had made on the troopship returning from India, and whom I was very pleased to meet again. He told me that he was now married and invited me to dine with him and his wife. I did so, and had a most pleasant evening, as both the Howards were very musical, Mrs. Howard having a very good voice, while her husband was quite an accomplished pianist.

Sir George Nares, the Arctic explorer, was living at Winchester at the time with his wife and daughters. I made their acquaintance at a dance, and was often invited to tea at their house, after which I used to play tennis or croquet with the two girls, both of whom were very good-looking, or go with them for a country-walk. Sometimes when I called Sir George Nares would ask me to have a glass of madeira, from one of the remaining bottles of a case of that wine which had made the voyage with him. He did not show any traces of the privations which he had endured in the Arctic; but he was a very quiet man, who did not talk much and kept a good deal to himself. Not long after I came to Winchester, the family removed to a house near Surbiton, where they invited me to visit them. While I was there, the elder daughter met with a very sad accident. She was running downstairs, when the heel of her shoe caught in a stair-rod and she fell on her back, injuring her spine so badly that she died six months later. She was only eighteen. Her younger sister married a missionary some years later, and went out to South Africa.

Several officers from the 2nd Battalion, with which I had served in India, were at the depôt, including Surgeon-Major Macnamara, Beauclerk, Lovett, and a captain named Brownrigg. Brownrigg was a fine-looking man, though with a tendency to _embonpoint_, and a very nice fellow as well, but he had an unfortunate weakness for liqueurs. He used to mix two or three together, and whenever anyone came to see him would invite them to have “a two-bottle trick” or “a three-bottle trick” with him. Brownrigg married not long afterwards and left the Service, but died suddenly, six months later. Probably, the two and three bottle tricks in which he was so fond of indulging had undermined his health.

It was rarely that the officers went up to town from Winchester, as the journey was rather too long, and there was plenty of amusement to be found in and around Winchester. The music at the cathedral had a great attraction for me, and I was never tired of listening to the magnificent playing of the organist, Dr. Arnold. I took lessons in composition from Dr. Arnold, which interested me very much, although Howard declared that he could not understand anyone wishing to be initiated into the mysteries of harmony and counterpoint; which, he said, was a kind of higher mathematics and destroyed the illusion which music produces on the senses.

The Colonel was his own absolute master at Winchester, as there was no general there to look after him, and gave himself and his battalion a rest, the parades being few and far between and the guards easy. Except for pottering about the mess-room and his work at the orderly-room of a morning our chief had little to do, and, from want of some better occupation, made himself more than usually objectionable to such of the officers as he did not happen to like. Beauclerk, who had been at the depôt for some time, was transferred to our battalion, at which I was very pleased, as he was a very nice fellow and a perfect gentleman, though a little inclined to be conceited. Unfortunately, the Colonel at once took a dislike to Beauclerk, owing to some jesting remark which the latter let fall while playing billiards with him, which he considered was wanting in respect, though any ordinary person would have seen nothing offensive in it. Next day, the chief appointed him to Robinson’s company, well knowing that Beauclerk would never tolerate the manner in which that eccentric personage was in the habit of treating his subalterns, whom he seldom condescended to address except to find fault with them, which he did in not the politest of language. Sure enough, one fine day, Beauclerk complained to the Colonel of the language which “Rabelais” had used towards him, and when the Colonel refused to listen to him, sent in his papers, which was, of course, just what our amiable chief wanted him to do. He was a great loss to the regiment, and his retirement was much regretted.