“1900 ... and Feels It”—Affection for the 9th Lancers—Help for a Brother Mason—Those Who Loved Him—Friends, not Sight-Seers—A Treasured Gift—Sale of Horses at Newmarket—Purchasers and Prices—Fate of Democrat—Volodyovski Wins the Derby—Too Late—Fierce Ownership Dispute—The Law Settles It—Broken Head of a small Beresford
During most of 1900 Lord William suffered at intervals from his old complaint contracted in India, namely dysentery, and it was taking all his strength away; that he was feeling very sadly I know, and on a photograph he was signing for a friend he wrote “W. B., 1900, ... and feels it.”
At times he was observed sitting resting before dinner, a most unusual thing for him to do. Unfortunately in December he ate some game that was too high for his delicate state of health, this set up peritonitis, and, in spite of the best advice and most tender nursing, he passed away on the 28th December with a smile for those around him, to the inexpressible grief of all who knew him well, and the sincere regret of all who were lucky enough to have met him.
The specialist, Sir Thomas Lauder Brunton, came down from town several times to see the invalid, and at one time there seemed to be a ray of hope, only to be dashed to the ground again, for the poor, gallant, brave heart for the first time in his life failed him and refused to work any longer. His last race was run, and surely the prize must be his for his many acts of charity not only in kind, but goodness and mercy.
We all knew in his lifetime how generous he was, no begging letter was ever left unanswered; none who begged, whether deserving or not, received a harsh word from him; he was generous to a fault. He never could resist anyone who said they had been in his old regiment the 9th Lancers, though I have grave doubts as to whether some of the suppliants had ever been in the regiment at all. I know that some who begged from him had a good deal of method in laying out their plan of campaign, and waited until Mr. Palmer, who attended to business matters, had gone home, before going to ask for Lord William, knowing that if Mr. Palmer was there the case would be thoroughly enquired into, while if they saw his lordship they knew they could work upon his tender and kind heart. I have been told the following story is true.
Lord William was a Mason, and a brother Mason wanted to see him, and as he had a favour to ask waited until Mr. Palmer had gone home, and in the evening begged to see Lord William who at once interviewed his brother Mason, a tradesman, who told a long tale with a plentiful use of pocket-handkerchief to his eyes; he came away with a cheque for £1000.
Truly life is a book of many pages, not by any means easily read, and it seems all wrong that such generosity should be imposed on, but Lord William always said his sympathies were with all sinners, and he liked to give everyone the benefit of a doubt.
It does not fall to the lot of everyone to be so sincerely mourned, for his wife adored him, his child loved him, his brothers and relations loved him, his servants worshipped him, the old people round Waterford and Curraghmore, to whom it was a red-letter day when Lord William paid them a visit, which he enjoyed as much as they did; the old pensioners at the Royal Hospital, Dublin, who had many times been made happy by a visit from him.
When the sad news became known, messages of sympathy and condolence poured in from the highest in the land to some of the lowliest.
It was not until after his death, when his papers were being attended to, that the extent of his goodness and charity was fully known.
I will not dwell on this sad time, for there is no language great enough for the expression of our mental emotions, and no language that can express the dignity of great grief.
Lord William was laid to rest in the family vault at Clonagam Church, and the whole route from the boat to the Clonagam was wonderful; every little child wanted to pay a last tribute to their friend, the road was packed and lined with those who cared, not sightseers.
Among the four waggon loads of wreathes, crosses, and other flower tokens of respect and affection, was one from his brother Lord Charles, “In memory of lovable, chivalrous Bill, from his broken-hearted brother, Charles.”
Everyone mourned for Lord William, even the cabmen in London, Dublin and elsewhere. The newspapers were full of “Our Bill” and amongst the many touching references to his death, I think the following is one of the nicest.
Lord William Beresford
Born July 20th, 1847, died December 30th, 1900
Sporting Times, January 5th, 1901.
Ballyhooley was really the nom-de-plume of Mr. Bob Martin, who wrote the Irish humorous songs for the Gaiety and was a great man on the staff of the Sporting Times. In one of the weekly papers appeared the following:
“The regret of all for Lord William Beresford. A Bill that everyone honoured, but alas none can meet.”
In another paper someone signing themselves “Roy” wrote:
December, 1900.
I always thought it was illuminating the way, though Lord William never met his wife’s mother, he felt it would be a pleasure to her, and his duty to write regularly giving account of his wife and son’s doings, and so forth; ending in a sincere attachment on both sides, and his mother-in-law heaped beautiful and costly presents on him, sent from America.
Speaking, or rather writing of presents reminds me that in a cabinet where I keep my many treasures and presents collected during my travels, there rests in one corner a much used and much mended hunting crop bearing the inscription, “From Bill, Xmas 1889.” It likewise has seen its last day’s hunting, for it is tender with age and use, and too much valued to run any risks. I feel as if I could write for weeks of all his kindness and loyal friendship, and then not exhaust my memories of them. There is one more charming trait I should like to mention, namely his great consideration and kindness to his servants; when there had been a house full with many ladies’ maids and valets he always asked if they had had a good time, and his orders were that all the servants should have everything they wanted, nothing was too good for them. One who had served him said to me once, “It is a pleasure to do anything for him; he is the kindest master and friend any servant ever had.”
On January 23rd, 1901, Lord William’s horses were sold at Newmarket, and it makes me sad to write of the break up of his stable; his horses had been such a pleasure to him all his life and now they were all to be scattered far and wide. Had he lived, many of them would have changed hands at times, no doubt, in the ordinary course of events, but he would have voiced the orders. Now even at the sale there was a gloom, a sadness for the cheery voice that was gone. It seems rather hard that we should be brought into this world without our wishes being consulted, and hurried out of it without our wishes being consulted, and as Emerson says, “We seem to be whipped through the world hacks of invisible riders.”
My readers may be interested to know who bought the horses and the prices they fetched, so I give the list. See pages 322-3.
Fifth on the list is good old Democrat, who still has quite a history attached to him. Mr. Joel bought him for 910 guineas, and while his property he ran his last race, at Kempton Park on May 11th, 1901, ridden by Wood, but was not placed, after this he was kept in peace and plenty until the autumn, when he again renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Tattersall’s hammer on October 13th, then Mr. Marsh, the trainer of the King’s horses, gave 290 guineas for him; chiefly I fancy for old association’s sake; so the horse went to Egerton House at Newmarket. One day the late Lord Kitchener was going round the stable, and I think I am right in saying King Edward VII was there at the time; when they came to Democrat Lord Kitchener remarked on his good looks, and that he was the size and make for a man like himself with long legs. “Yes, my lord,” said Mr. Marsh, “he would suit you to take out to India as a charger if you will accept him as a gift.”
Lord Kitchener was not a great horseman at any time, and liked something very quiet so that he need pay no attention to his mount and devote it all to the business in hand; this he explained to Mr. Marsh, asking if he thought the horse was quiet enough, and was reassured by being told Mr. Marsh’s daughter used often to ride him when exercising on the heath. A few days later when Lord Kitchener was speaking to the Duke of Portland about Mr. Marsh’s generous gift, and expressing doubts about a race-horse being a suitable charger, his Grace suggested Democrat being sent to Welbeck to be tried there in the riding school with a view to his usefulness as a charger. The horse’s manners were found to require very little polishing, so to India he went, becoming a great favourite with his master. An unusual end to a race-horse’s career, but a very happy and a most useful one. When Mr. Marsh bought him he was no longer considered any use for racing, no use for the stud to which so many race-horses go, and I am not quite sure he was not just a wee bit gone in the wind. However, this great winner of races after landing £12,939 in stakes became Lord Kitchener’s favourite charger, and was ridden by him at the Delhi Durbar and Coronation Procession of King Edward. Democrat bore himself very proudly in India, winning several prizes at the Indian Horse Shows. Lord Kitchener’s and Democrat’s name will go down to history together, for in Calcutta there now stands a statue of them sent out from England in 1913. A good and honourable man on a good and honourable horse. I have been told that Democrat died in India shortly before Lord Kitchener left the country.
At King George’s coronation, Lord Kitchener rode another great race-horse Moifaa, the Liverpool winner in 1904, while the property of Mr. Spencer Gollan. The horse was afterwards sold to King Edward.
When Derby time came round again in 1901, Volodyovski fulfilled Lord William’s hopes and predictions, though, alas, not in his name, for the rules of racing are that death cancels the lease of a horse, therefore the luck of that Derby fell to Mr. W. C. Whitney, and I do not think there was a soul on that racecourse, including Mr. Whitney himself, who did not wish Lord William had been there, and the win his.
Some few weeks after Lord William’s death there was a good deal of discussion and some heated arguments between Lady William and Lady Meux as to the ownership of the horse, Lady William maintaining it was her late husband’s horse and therefore now hers; Lady Meux declared it was hers, and the Jockey Club were at last asked to decide; they adopted the usual course of leaving the disputants to have it settled by the law of the land. It came for hearing, fortunately, before that fine old sporting Judge Grantham, I say fortunately because he was perhaps in a position to give confidence to both parties in his judgment, owing to his racing knowledge and experience. He gave it as his opinion Lord William’s death cancelled the lease of the horse.
Lady Meux had bred Voly, being the only woman who has ever bred a Derby winner, and she was so excited at his winning that the moment he passed the winning-post she was out of her grand-stand box and claimed the right not usual to ladies of entering the weighing-in enclosure, and she then followed “Zee pet,” as she called him, down the course, through the crowd to the saddling paddock a good quarter of a mile away and then untied the little bit of blue and brown ribbon mixed up in the horse’s headgear, which he had carried throughout the race. While patting and caressing the horse she excitedly exclaimed, “It is my horse and I want the ribbons for my museum,” which I have not seen, but have been told it is a very entertaining place full of a variety of interesting things, now in the possession of Admiral Sir Hedworth Meux, well known as Ladysmith Lambton.
Mr. Whitney’s colours were similar to Lord William’s, being the same light blue jacket, but with a brown cap, which when at some distance looked very like Lord William’s black.
It may be wondered why in the course of these memories I have made no mention of Lord Delaval, the youngest Beresford brother; it is because he decided to seek fortune abroad and settled down in Mexico; the reason for this exodus being to win the object of his affection for his bride, which rested on whether he fulfilled his promise to make a fortune first. It is tragic that when nearing the point that he could return with his promise fulfilled, he was killed in a railway accident in the United States on December 26th, 1906.
With the usual Beresford spirit he had thrown his whole attention and energy into his work, and when he died owned 196,000 acres with nine miles of irrigation canals and several large reservoirs, having quickly grasped that what caused failure so often on ranches was want of water, without plenty of which cattle cannot thrive.
Lord William’s eldest brother died in 1895 at the early age of fifty-one; he had been ill a long time, the result of a hunting accident. Lord Bill felt his death very much. Out of these devoted brothers only two are left now, Lord Beresford and Lord Marcus.
Reluctantly I lay down my pen, it has been a pleasure writing of our dear friend, and living through some of the old times again.
I like to remember my earliest experience in First Aid was in patching up the head of a Beresford, a kinsman of Lord William’s and mine, though at the time he was a very small boy aged about eight years. A dear chubby-faced lad whose people lived at Bedale, not far from my old home in Yorkshire. Little Walter Beresford and his brother Henry, grandchildren of Admiral Sir John Beresford on their father’s side and Lord Denman on their mother’s, came to play with my young brother, and Walter took the opportunity to fall from top to bottom of the cellar stone stairs while playing hide and seek, though they were on forbidden ground. I was very proud of my work when I had done patching up the poor little head, and remember how plucky the lad was, but then he was a Beresford and what is born in the bread comes out in the butter. I fear this is not a correct quotation, but will do quite nicely.
Lady William only survived her husband a few years.
Requiescat in pace.