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 The Art of Sacri ce in Chess

by
Rudolf Spielmann

21st Century Edition

Revised and Expanded by Karsten Müller

 The Art of Sacri ce in Chess
by Rudolf Spielmann
Revised and Expanded by Karsten Müller

21st Century Edition

© 2015 Copyright Russell Enterprises, Inc.

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any
manner or form whatsoever or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission from the publisher
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-936490-78-3

Published by:
Russell Enterprises, Inc.
PO Box 3131
Milford, CT 06460 USA

http://www.russell-enterprises.com
[email protected]

Cover design by Janel Lowrance

Translation of the original edition by J. du Mont

Printed in the United States of America

 Tab e f C te ts
Exercises f r Cha ter 14
Cha ter 15: Disaster g7
Table of Contents
Exercises f r Cha ter 15
Cha ter 16: The Achi es’ Hee , f7
Sig s a d Sy b s
Exercises f r Cha ter 16
Preface by Karste Mü er
Cha ter 17: Stri e at the Edge
I tr ducti by Rud f S ie a
Exercises f r Cha ter 17
Part I: The Vari us Ty es f Cha ter 18: Destr yi g the Ki g’s
Sacri ces She ter
Exercises f r Cha ter 18
Cha ter 1: P siti a Sacri ces
Cha ter 19: Sacri ces f6 – “F” f r
Cha ter 2: Sacri ces f r Gai
f rward
Cha ter 3: Mati g Sacri ces
Exercises f r Cha ter 19

Part II: Real Sacri ces Cha ter 20: Sacri ces e6 – O e i g
the F dgates
Cha ter 4: Sacri ces f r Deve e t
Exercises f r Cha ter 20
Cha ter 5: Obstructive Sacri ces
Cha ter 21: The Magic f Mi hai Ta
Cha ter 6: Preve tive ( r A ti-Cast i g)
Sacri ces Exercises f r Cha ter 21

Cha ter 7: Li e-C eara ce Sacri ces Cha ter 22: Shir v’s Sacri ces

Cha ter 8: Vacati g Sacri ces Exercises f r Cha ter 22

Cha ter 9: De ecti g r Dec y Cha ter 23: The Fi e Art f Defe se
Sacri ces Exercises f r Cha ter 23
Cha ter 10: (Cast ed) Ki g’s Fie d Cha ter 24: Additi a Exercises
Sacri ces
S uti s t Exercises
Cha ter 11: Ki g-Hu t Sacri ces
Bib i gra hy

Part III: Sacri cial Values I dex f P ayers

Cha ter 12: The Excha ge Sacri ce I dex f O e i gs

Cha ter 13: The Quee Sacri ce

E i gue t the Origi a Editi

Part IV: Additi al Material

Cha ter 14: Gree Gift Sacri ce
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4 5
 Cha ter 18: Destr yi g the Ki g’s 365
Table of Contents She ter
Exercises f r Cha ter 18 374
C ver Page 1 Cha ter 19: Sacri ces f6 – “F” f r
376
Tit e Page 2 f rward
C yright 3 Exercises f r Cha ter 19 388
Cha ter 20: Sacri ces e6 – O e i g
Tab e f C te ts 4 390
the F dgates
Sig s a d Sy b s 6 Exercises f r Cha ter 20 401
Preface by Karste Mü er 7 Cha ter 21: The Magic f Mi hai Ta 403
I tr ducti by Rud f S ie a 11 Exercises f r Cha ter 21 418
Part I: The Vari us Ty es f Cha ter 22: Shir v’s Sacri ces 420
14 Exercises f r Cha ter 22 444
Sacri ces
Cha ter 1: P siti a Sacri ces 26 Cha ter 23: The Fi e Art f Defe se 446
Cha ter 2: Sacri ces f r Gai 36 Exercises f r Cha ter 23 454
Cha ter 3: Mati g Sacri ces 42 Cha ter 24: Additi a Exercises 456

Part II: Rea Sacri ces 59 S uti s t Exercises 466

Cha ter 4: Sacri ces f r Deve e t 61 Bib i gra hy 578
Cha ter 5: Obstructive Sacri ces 73 I dex f P ayers 580
Cha ter 6: Preve tive ( r A ti-Cast i g) I dex f O e i gs 584
96
Sacri ces
Cha ter 7: Li e-C eara ce Sacri ces 128
Cha ter 8: Vacati g Sacri ces 147
Cha ter 9: De ecti g r Dec y
163
Sacri ces
Cha ter 10: (Cast ed) Ki g’s Fie d
172
Sacri ces
Cha ter 11: Ki g-Hu t Sacri ces 211
Part III: Sacri cia Va ues 235
Cha ter 12: The Excha ge Sacri ce 244
Cha ter 13: The Quee Sacri ce 268
E i gue t the Origi a Editi 281
Part IV: Additi a Materia 283
Cha ter 14: Gree Gift Sacri ce
285
Bxh2/7+
Exercises f r Cha ter 14 298
Cha ter 15: Disaster g7 304
Exercises f r Cha ter 15 317
Cha ter 16: The Achi es’ Hee , f7 320
Exercises f r Cha ter 16 346
Cha ter 17: Stri e at the Edge 352
Exercises f r Cha ter 17 363

589 590
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Discovering Diverse Content Through
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Battle of Dorking. Colonel Hamley expected his pupils to accept his
deductions as well as his facts, and did not encourage original
research.
After his lecture on the battle of Blenheim, there being no books
which treated of the battle in the then meagre Staff College library, I
obtained in London Cox’s Life of Marlborough, which I offered to the
two men whose society I most enjoyed. They were about my own age,
but took College life more seriously than I did. One gratefully accepted
the loan of the volumes, but the other answered gaily, “No, I shall
serve up Hamley, Hamley, nothing but Hamley; that always gets me full
marks.” When Colonel Hamley was succeeded by Colonel Chesney on
the conclusion of the first lecture, I went to my friend, who was a
wonderful précis writer, and said, “After this lecture, you will have to
think for yourself.” Charles Chesney’s ideas of teaching were
diametrically opposed to those of his predecessor. He mentioned the
salient points in the standard authorities who had written on the
campaign or battle, and then said, “And now, gentlemen, no doubt you
will be good enough to read all these authors and give me the
advantage of your studies.” The result showed my forecast was correct,
for my friend, the précis writer, who had hitherto got one or two marks
out of a hundred more than anyone else, now came down to our level.
At the end of 1864, many of my instructors having foretold I should
fail in the Final Examination, I settled down to work harder, and to
enjoy less hunting. The confinement, however, immediately affected
my nervous system, and the aurist under whose care I had placed
myself when I returned from India, wrote to the Commandant,
unknown to me, deprecating my undertaking any additional work.
Colonel William Napier, a son of one of the three distinguished
Peninsular Napiers, had married the daughter of Sir Charles Napier, the
conqueror of Scinde; he had been kind to me during my terms, and
was a man of unusually broad generous mind, for within three months
of my joining, when acting as President of a ball committee, I struck
out the names of many of his friends whom he had asked as public
guests to the ball. Sending for me to his office, he demanded an
explanation, and I told him that none of the people whose names I had
omitted had ever invited anyone from the College into their houses
except himself, when he observed, “Please send out the invitations in
my name:” and it was done.
I had ridden successfully one of his horses which he found
uncontrollable, entirely from his habit of catching hold of the horse’s
mouth when approaching a fence. The horse was naturally a slow,
nervous fencer, but in the Commandant’s hands became so excitable
that I have seen him run backwards when checked on approaching a
fence. I rode the horse for a month, and then handing him back to the
Commandant, he enjoyed two days’ hunting, the horse jumping
perfectly; but the third day out he resumed his habit of rushing, with
the result that the rider got a broken leg. Later the horse came into my
possession, and carried me or one of my sisters for many years.
The Commandant sending for me, read my Medical attendant’s
letter, and telling me that the Professors thought I should probably fail
to get the aggregate number of marks, observed that he was himself
leaving the College to assume command of a brigade in Dublin, and as
he knew all about me from my two years’ residence at the College, he
would be glad to take me as his Aide-de-Camp, whether I passed or
not, and suggested I might avoid the worry, and possible annoyance of
failure by not going up for the Final Examination. I thanked the
Commandant warmly, asking for a fortnight to consider the question of
the appointment, but said at once that having looked at a fence for two
years, I could not refuse to go at it and cross it, and would sooner fail
than not try.
I had a curious premonitory dream in the last week I spent at the
College. I thought I knew fairly well the usual questions on Bridging,
and had given but little time to it. I dreamt the night before I was to be
examined I could not describe General Eblé’s bridges made over the
Beresina for Napoleon’s retreat, and getting up studied it carefully, from
1 to 3 a.m. It was the first question in our paper set at 10 a.m.! The
Professors were mistaken, and having done better than anyone
anticipated in the Final Examination, I went over to Dublin at the end
of the year, and joined General William Napier.
The night after I arrived in Dublin I dined at the Mansion House,
when discussion was carried on across the table with a gentleman
sitting next to me about the Clones agency. It was impossible for me to
avoid hearing the conversation, and as a result of what I learnt that
evening I supervised for twenty-one years the management of my
brother-in-law’s estate, about 9000 Irish acres. Six months later, Sir
Thomas Lennard, who had married my second sister, went down with
me to Clones, the third time it had been visited by the owner for
upwards of eighty years, he having succeeded his grandfather, who
lived to be nearly a hundred years old.
 CHAPTER XIX
1865–7—“ON THE STAFF”

Recognition of an opponent—A good Veterinary Surgeon

—“Vagabond”—Fenian scares—I supervise the management
of an Irish estate—Difficulties of marriage settlements—Sir
Thomas Lennard—His offer of £5000.

O N the 22nd May, when accompanying General Napier, who was

inspecting a battalion at Mullingar, my eye rested on an
officer whose face I recognised, and when the parade was over I
asked him, “Are you the man who fought me in the public-house in
Air Street, Regent Street, and gave me such a hammering?” He
replied, “I am the man; but I do not admit that I gave you a
hammering, for you left me speechless.”

In taking lessons from various pugilists in London, I had gone in

1862 to an ex-“Lightweight Champion,” and after a few lessons I
was foolish enough to accept his proposition that instead of paying
7s. 6d. for each lesson, I should pay him £5, and then have as many
lessons as I desired. The result was that after I had had two or three
lessons, instead of taking the trouble to stand up himself, he
invariably set me to box with the first pupil who happened to come
in, and thus it was I met the gentleman, not knowing he was in the
Army. Though neither of us lost our tempers, we had what was
virtually, and is now called, a glove fight, except that our gloves
were heavier and better covered.
 I suffered so continuously in the summer of 1865 each time I
got seriously wet from recurring attacks of fever, which affected my
ears, accompanied with neuralgia and swollen face, that I went over
to London in July, when my dentist informed me that I should always
suffer when ill from other causes unless I had eight stumps of teeth
at the back of my mouth removed. I then made a round of doctors’
houses, asking if they would give me chloroform, but they one and
all declined, so I went back to Dublin, and asked a physician who
had been most successful in treating a gnawing pain from which I
had suffered in the stomach, but he, while declining to allow there
was any disease of the heart, was not willing to administer to me an
anæsthetic, so returning to England I sought out Dr. Nicholas Parker,
who had attended one of my sisters. He was himself ill, and had
given up practice, but consented to give me chloroform, and, having
arranged with the dentist, I went up to London, accompanied by my
mother and four grieving brothers and sisters. After a careful
examination, Dr. Parker postponed the operation, telling me to come
back again in a fortnight. When I returned, the attendant family had
dropped to three, after another fortnight to one, and eventually
there was nobody with me, when the doctor said cheerfully, “Yes,
you are fit to-day; go away and have a good luncheon, for you won’t
want to eat much for a day or two.” Since that period, although I
cannot say I have been free from neuralgia in the head, I have
suffered much less from face-ache.
I accompanied my General to the Curragh in the summer, and
there became so ill I was obliged to go away. Doctor Hudson, the
Physician of the Meath Hospital, did more for me than anyone else
at the time, chiefly by keeping me on a milk diet.
In the autumn of the year, my battalion, the 73rd, was ordered
to Hong Kong, and I expected orders to embark with it. This I
should have done, but that the pleasant Colonel who commanded it
when I joined, retired, and was succeeded by a man I disliked, so I
paid £500 for an exchange to the 17th Regiment.
 At the end of the year I bought “Vagabond,” the best horse I
ever possessed, from a farmer at Finglas, just outside Dublin. It had
been sold within three weeks at varying prices, from £85 to £15. I
saw the animal cross some apparently impossible fences, his rider
wielding a heavy bludgeon with which he struck the horse violently
over the head. Eventually I begged him to desist, for I was afraid he
would either stun the horse or that it would break its legs, and I
became its owner for £45, the farmer betting a friend £10 he would
get it back in a week for £15. The certificate of the Veterinary
surgeon, Mr. Ferguson, is worth quoting for young horse-owners: “I
have examined the chestnut——. I regard it as unsound, and advise
you to buy it.” Next day I called on Mr. Ferguson, and said, “Oh, I
bought that horse, and here is your fee; and now will you tell me
where he is unsound?” Said he, “Are you a busy man?” “Yes, I am,
but I can listen to you for five minutes.” “But it will take me the
forenoon to tell you all the places in which that horse is unsound.”
The horse objecting to jump, gave me five severe falls the first
day I rode him after the Ward Union Hounds. I cannot write with, for
after the first fall, on which the farmers shouted, “Take that brute
away, or he will kill you or some of us,” I never saw the hounds, but
rode the line for 8 miles, crossing every fence. The same farmers
came to me a fortnight later, wanting to know what drug I put up
the horse’s nose to tame him, and it was some time before I could
induce them to believe that I had improved the horse’s temper by
consistent kindness. During thirteen seasons, while carrying my wife,
my brother who rode it while I was in South Africa, or me to hounds,
the horse never made a mistake. He was, however, a trial to one’s
patience, for the first time I rode him from Stephen’s Green to my
General’s house, about 4 miles, it took me over two hours, the horse
walking about on his fore and hind legs alternately.
I should have had a pleasant life in 1865–6 but that I suffered
from continuous ill-health. I went to a famous physician in London,
afterwards created a baronet for his devoted care of the Heir to the
throne, and to many doctors of lesser note. The disease from which
I was suffering was neuralgia of the nerves of the stomach,
treatment for which presents but comparatively little difficulty now,
but forty-five years ago it was not so. I managed to hunt, but
occasionally suffered such acute pain as to be unable to sit in the
saddle.
On the 9th of February 1866 I received a telegram to the effect
that my father was very dangerously ill at Belhus, and leaving
Ireland that night I remained with him until he died, a fortnight later.

VAGABOND
HE FOLLOWED HOUNDS FOR THIRTEEN SEASONS WITHOUT MAKING A MISTAKE
 Shortly after I returned to Dublin I lost my appointment, my
Chief being made Director-General of Military Education, and I was
ordered to join my Regiment, then at Aldershot. My mother went to
Brighton, and keeping my horses at Redhill, I lived with her two
months, hunting with the Surrey Stag Hounds and adjoining packs. I
was still suffering severely from neuralgia in the face and stomach.
Early in March, when hunting near Cranleigh, we had had a slow run
for two hours, and being close to the station, and wet to the skin, I
went into a shop and bought every article of clothing, from a suit
and shoes to undergarments. Shortly before the train started, a
London citizen who might have been Mr. Jorrocks himself, bustled
into the train, reeking with spirits, and upbraided me for leaving the
hounds until the deer had been taken. I told him I had delicate
lungs, but he derided the idea of changing clothes, adding, “Look at
me; I have had three glasses of hot gin and water, and I shall be all
right.” And so he was. I being in bed for the next fortnight with
double pneumonia, became so ill that a Medical Board declined to
allow me to join at Aldershot until I regained my health.
On the 30th June, having ceased to cough, I joined at Aldershot
the battalion to which I had been recently appointed, in which my
eldest brother, Sir Francis, had previously served and was a guest at
the time. I did not do duty with it, for after a few days I was
appointed Deputy Assistant Quarter-master-General in charge of the
97
Instructional Kitchen of Cookery. I knew little of cooking, but
thought with study I might acquire sufficient knowledge, but was
startled to find that the kitchen was only to occupy a part of my
time, the more important duty being to instruct officers in Military
Drawing and Field Sketching. This was an unpleasant surprise, for
except Mathematics, Drawing was my weakest subject at the
College, and going to London I asked to see the Military Secretary. I
explained my difficulty in undertaking such a task, but my
explanations were not well received, the General observing, “A Staff
College officer ought to be able to do anything.” I said meekly, “But
perhaps you do not know I was the duffer of my class. I am not
thinking of myself, but of those whom I have to instruct.” He replied,
“Well, you have got to do it.” And I left the room.
Going back to Aldershot, I heard accidentally that the Brigade-
Major in the North Camp had been ordered to rejoin his battalion,
and applied officially to be transferred to the post. Meantime I
prepared for my first class of students, and feeling incapable of
teaching what I did not thoroughly understand, I got my friend Herr
Zöbel to come from Sunbury for forty-eight hours, in which time
much that had been vague and undefined in my mind, even after
two years at the Staff College, became clear, and when Zöbel went
back on the third day I reported to the Assistant Quartermaster-
General that I was ready to begin.
Before the class assembled, however, I had become Brigade-
Major in the North Camp, under General Sir Alfred Horsford, by
whom I was treated with the greatest kindness. He was handsome,
clever, with great knowledge of the world, and had done well in the
Indian Mutiny; although he did not know details of the Drill book, he
handled troops well, but was not fond of soldiering in peace times.
When in the spring of 1867 I asked whether we ought not to
exercise the Brigade, prior to Divisional parades, my General replied
calmly, “Yes, certainly; a good idea—I quite approve. Carry on, but
do not ask me to attend.” He supported me, however, so my work
was very pleasant.
He was popular in society, having many friends, being especially
intimate with Sir John Cope of Bramshill, 10 miles from Aldershot,
where he spent a great deal of his time. This of course became
known, and gave rise to an amusing incident, of which Sir Alfred,
who had a keen sense of humour, himself told me. Approaching the
Lieutenant-General, Sir James Yorke Scarlett, Sir Alfred said with
much warmth before other General officers, “The Duke told me, Sir
James, that you said I was seldom here.” The Lieutenant-General
said very calmly, “You have been misinformed, Horsford: what I said
was, you were never here.”
 Sir Alfred believed in a celibate Army, and told numberless
stories in support of his views. When in command of a battalion,
Rifle Brigade, a soldier came up for permission to marry. “No,
certainly not. Why does a young man like you want a wife?” “Oh,
please, sir, I have two rings (Good Conduct badges) and £5 in the
Savings Bank, so I am eligible, and I want to marry very much.”
“Well, go away, and if you come back this day year in the same
mind, you shall marry; I’ll keep the vacancy.” On the anniversary the
soldier repeated his request. “But do you really after a year want to
marry?” “Yes, sir, very much.” “Sergeant-Major, take his name down.
Yes, you may marry. I never believed there was so much constancy
in man or woman. Right face. Quick march.” As the man left the
room, turning his head, he said, “Thank you, sir; it isn’t the same
woman.”
I invented a knapsack a month or two after I joined, and was
98
told to consult with Dr. Parkes, one of the most advanced Medical
officers in the Service. I went down to Southampton where he lived,
and he satisfied me that one on which he was then working,
arranged to spread the weight over the body, a modification of
which was eventually adopted, was better than mine; my principle of
the alteration of the pouches, however, was accepted. Previously the
pouches were made rectangular, and as no man’s body is exactly flat
there was obviously inconvenience in this arrangement, especially as
one of the tests of soldiering in those days was to bring the rifle
across the body as closely as possible without hitting it, with the
result that the edges of the pouches were found to be inconvenient.
In December, there being rumours of a Fenian outbreak, my
General was sent over to Ireland, and a fortnight later I was ordered
to join him. On the last day of the month he was offered command
of a Division. Now his tact and knowledge of the Army was
profound. He asked Lord Strathnairn (Sir Hugh Rose) to leave the
question in abeyance until an outbreak occurred, saying that any
supersession of a General officer in peace-time would be unpopular
in the Army, and thus it was arranged, the General in question not
being informed of what was hanging over him. After I had been
three weeks in Dublin, I got leave to go to England until wanted. In
the middle of February I received an urgent telegram from the
General to rejoin. He had gone to Killarney, where we remained for
six weeks, with a large body of troops, but learned most of the
Fenian movements from the London morning papers. I satisfied
myself that some of the reports of the assembling of Fenians were
untrue, for on receiving a report of a large body of men having been
seen drilling in a field near Tralee I went there immediately; but
though the field was wet, there was not a footprint on it. We went in
April to Mallow, as a Police barrack had been attacked and burned at
Blarney, one station on the Cork side of Mallow Junction. As we
travelled up, a bridge near Mill Street had been set on fire, but
without being sufficiently damaged to interrupt the traffic, and
although there was doubtless much disaffection, the arrangements
for a rising were despicable.
We returned to Aldershot at the end of March, and going up to
London I bought five couples of hounds. Getting up at 3 a.m., I
trailed an anise-seeded rabbit over the Long Valley, coming back an
hour later to hunt it. I never had more than three companions, but I
persevered until the weather became so hot that the scent would
not lie in the Long Valley.
I have often been asked whether I am nervous out hunting, and
my answer in the affirmative has been frequently discredited. I
cannot recall the time when I have not been for the first few fences,
but so far as I know my mind, my nervousness does not affect my
riding, as is shown by the following story of the early sixties. I was
riding frequently with the Essex Stag Hounds horses hired from the
farmer horse-dealer who acted as huntsman to the pack. He was
driving me from Ingatestone to the meet one Tuesday morning,
when I observed, “What sort of a mount have I got to-day?” “Well,
Major, I cannot say I know very much about him, but I believe he is
a very good one.” It was a low, strong, cob-like horse, with great
power and breeding. The deer having been uncarted, as we rode
down at the first fence my teeth were chattering so as to be painful,
and I crossed the first two holding my jaw with my left hand. We
had a brilliant thirty-five minutes, in which the horse performed well,
making only one mistake, in which although we got down we did not
part company, and when we had secured the deer the owner of the
horse said, “Major, will you get off, and ride this gentleman’s horse?
for he may be a customer.” When we were driving home from the
public-house where we regained the cart, the huntsman said to me,
“I owe you a good turn, Major, to-day.” “Why?” “Oh, you have sold
that horse for me.” “Done well?” “Oh, I haven’t made a heap of
money, but I like quick returns.” “Then you have not had the horse
long?” “No, I only bought him yesterday afternoon at Tattersall’s.”
I stayed at Reading for the Ascot week with a cousin, and on the
Thursday accidentally met the Southwells. My former General,
William Napier, accosted me in the enclosure, asking whether I could
get him some lunch, and I replied, “Oh yes, come across the drag
enclosure, and you can have what you like; I am sure to know many
men there.” Threading our way through the coaches, I looked up,
and saw Miss Paulina Southwell. The General, to whose wife I had
confided my feelings, said, “Oh, don’t mind my lunch; stop here, and
talk to your friends.” I said, “No, sir,” and went on until we got to the
Guards’ tent, where a friend made us welcome. I am not a lunch-
eater, but the General had a hearty appetite, and asked me if I could
get him a chair. That lunch appeared to be about the longest I ever
attended, but I waited patiently, and insisted on piloting my former
General across the course before I left him, when I returned to Lord
Southwell’s coach, and saw the lady whom I had not met for a long
time, and with whom I never corresponded until, two months later, I
wrote and asked her to marry me.
I was very foolish at that time, for I tried to reduce my weight,
which has not varied four pounds in forty years, in order to ride in
99
some races. I had ridden a good hunter in the Tweezledown
steeplechases soon after I returned from Ireland, but the horse was
hopelessly outclassed, and in July I rode four races in succession
one day, on a diet of a limited number of biscuits, for which folly I
suffered considerably; for a fortnight later, after being very wet on
parade, I got fever, and early in August fainted three times one
morning in my office. I went to London and saw doctors, who
prescribed perfect rest, and as my brother-in-law had decided to
appoint another Agent, I went over to his estate in Ireland, hoping
that the change of air might improve my health. I was still weak
when I got to Clones, where I wished to see a tenant who had not
paid his rent for eleven years. The annual sum was trifling, under
two pounds, but the example set by the man was bad on an estate
which had arrears of over £11,000 on a rental of £8000. My brother-
in-law’s London solicitor was coming over to go through the estate
accounts with me, and the day before he arrived, taking a car, I
went out to see the recalcitrant tenant. I was uncertain of my
reception, so, although the day was fine, I wore an overcoat, in the
pocket of which I carried a big revolver. The driver pulled up
alongside a punt, in which I was ferried over to the island on which
McElnea lived, in a little cabin, and on entering I saw a fine tall man,
nearly seventy years of age. He did not offer me a seat, but there
were three stools, and I sat down on one, remarking, “You do not
offer me a seat, but I am not well, and so sit down.” “Who the divil
are ye? Are ye the landlord?” “No, but I am his brother-in-law, and
very like him.” “Well, is it about the rint that ye have come?” “It is.”
“Sorra a penny will I pay! Divil a man is there in Oirland to make
me.” And as he spoke in came two fine specimens of humanity, over
six feet in height. I looked at them, and putting my hand into my
pocket, said to McElnea, “Well, I am going back into Clones, and you
can pack up.” “Pack, is it? and why would I pack?” “Because when I
get into Clones I shall issue a process against you, and you will be
out in a week.” Changing from his defiant to a cringing tone, he said,
“Why, yer honour will not be turning me out of the ould place; I am
a very ould man, and I have always lived here.” I replied, “We do not
want you here, and I will give you your crop and £5 to go away.” “I
would much sooner stop, may I?” “If you pay a year and a half’s
rent to-morrow, and a year and a half every year until you are clear,
100
you can remain.” He paid, and on the next gale day, saying he
could not be bothered with accounts, paid up all arrears, and gave
no further trouble.
I had discussed daily with my mother and sisters, since the
Ascot meeting, the question of my marrying Paulina Southwell. I did
not apprehend any difficulty with her about religion, but realised that
my financial position did not justify my asking her to marry me, and
that moreover I was too fond of my profession to abate in the
slightest degree my desire for War Service on any possible occasion.
Eventually, on my way to Clones, I wrote to her explaining my
unsatisfactory financial position and my feelings as a soldier, and
asking her whether she would consider the question of marrying me,
on the distinct understanding that she would never by a word, or
even a look, check my volunteering for War Service.
After I had settled my brother-in-law’s business, I went to
Turkeenagh, a mountain 12 miles from Scarriff, where I had a share
in a moor. I was too ill to walk, but enjoyed the air and the society of
my companions. We had had a successful day with the grouse on
the hills looking down on Lough Derg, when, getting the Irish Times,
I saw an expedition was going to Abyssinia, under General Napier. I
packed my bag, and, sending a boy to the nearest public-house for a
car, drove 38 miles to Nenagh station, en route for London. I
telegraphed to Miss Southwell that I had received no reply to my
letter written ten days earlier, and asking her not to answer until she
heard again from me. Writing in the train, I explained the object of
my journey to London was to try to get to Abyssinia, and although I
could not advise her to marry me before I embarked, I should be
glad to do so if she wished; adding I was unlikely to see anyone in
Abyssinia whom I should prefer to her, as I had not done so during
the six or seven years I had spent in England and Ireland since our
first meeting. When I got to London, I received her answer saying
that fully understanding my feelings about War Service, she
accepted me, but that she would await my return from Abyssinia. I
found it was not William, but Robert Napier, afterwards Lord Napier
of Magdala, who would command; moreover, the Staff of the
Expedition would be chosen almost exclusively from those serving in
India, and I was married a fortnight later.
There were monetary difficulties, as I was poor; indeed, an old
friend in common, Canon Doyle, had teased Miss Southwell, when
she sought his advice, by saying he knew only one great objection
besides that of religion, which he explained later, was “Major Wood’s
dreadful impecuniosity.” This lack of means gave an opportunity to
my brother-in-law of showing me his character. My mother’s brother-
in-law when dying had left a large property to his childless wife, with
verbal instructions to “take care of Emma’s children.” She had given
without demur £5000 to each of my brothers and sisters when they
had married, but although she had not been to church for fifty years,
she objected to my marrying a Catholic, and refused to settle
anything on me. Sir Thomas Barrett Lennard heard that the
marriage might not take place, and wrote to the following effect:
“There are many disadvantages in being as casual about money as I
am, but this time there is an advantage in it; please accept the
cheque I send for £5000. I am content to take my chance of your
surviving your aunt, and of my eventually getting the money back.” I
naturally thanked him warmly, but other arrangements were made.
Six weeks after my marriage I arranged with his London solicitor to
make certain alterations at Clones, and for twenty-one years had the
satisfaction of remitting a large annual income to my brother-in-law,
without his being troubled with work which he disliked.
Sir Thomas, who married my second surviving sister, is a fine
classical scholar, and has ever been a capable and indefatigable
worker in County business, going as thoroughly into every matter of
self-imposed duty as he does in the pursuit of his principal
recreation, the breaking in of horses and making them hunters. I
have never known a man with better hands, nor one who can
encourage more successfully a wayward four-year-old to execute his
rider’s wishes. He never cared for shooting, but in order to
recompense me for supervising his Irish estate, he preserved
pheasants in the coverts at Belhus for my pleasure,—foxes, however,
being the first consideration; indeed, at the end of one season there
were to my knowledge thirteen left on the estate of 4000 acres.
He has repaid me many times over in the last forty-five years, by
unvarying kindness. While he lived at Belhus, his house, before and
after my marriage, was my home; and in 1874, on hearing I was
wounded, he offered to go out to the West Coast of Africa,
disregarding the climate, which had carried Insurance premiums up
to 45 per centum, and the fact that he had at the time a large
family.
I had been away ten days on my honeymoon when I was
recalled by my General, who had the command of a large gathering
of Volunteers at Liverpool. He took with him two senior Colonels who
commanded battalions at Aldershot; but they appreciated the
pleasures of the table, and falling victims to turtle soup at the
Adelphi Hotel the evening we arrived, remained in bed until the
Review was over, and we were back at Aldershot.
 CHAPTER XX
1867–71—ALDERSHOT

Sporting Essex farmers—An eccentric groom—Drunk

and incapable in the street—Ill-health induces me to
think of joining the Bar—A fine example on parade—
Sir James Yorke Scarlett—A student of the Middle
Temple—School feasts—A Low Church Colonel—An
audacious order—Sir Hope Grant, his lovable nature.

T HE winter of 1867–68 was for many years the best season’s

hunting I enjoyed, although I was occasionally suffering from
ill-health. General Napier had lent me a hunter, and besides
“Vagabond,” already described, I bought a bay mare named
“Fractious.” When I was sent over to Dublin at Christmas 1866, my
friend Mr. Leonard Morrogh wrote me a note, saying that, owing to a
week’s frost a horse bought by a Colonel in the Indian Army had
been kept in its stable at Sewell’s Yard, and having refused to leave
the yard, had given stablemen heavy falls. The mare was known to
be very clever over a banking country, and Morrogh, hearing its
owner who gave £70 before the frost would accept £20, advised me
to go and look at her. The frost was breaking up when I drove down
and had the mare out. She was nearly as broad as she was long,
with straight shoulders, but with great power over the loins, and
with good hocks, although they were much disfigured, having been
fired with something like a fire-shovel. I liked the appearance of the
mare, and seeing that she “used” her shoulders well, asked the
foreman to put a saddle on her and trot her up and down. He
saddled her, but absolutely declined to mount, as did everyone else
in the yard. I said to a lad, “It will be worth 5s. for you to trot her up
and down on the straw;” but he said, “No, my life is worth more
than 5s.” This compelled me to mount the mare. She stood still until
I asked her to move, when she went straight up on her hind legs,
narrowly missing falling back. This she repeated twice, the third time
walking on her hind legs so as to bring my knee against the wall as
her fore feet came to the ground. I realised the mare’s intention,
and instead of pulling her away from the wall, pulled the inside rein
sharply, which brought her down with her jaw on the wall, the jar
being so great as to almost stun her. Taking advantage of the horse’s
bewildered state, I applied both spurs, and she trotted quietly out of
the yard. Although her shoulder was short and badly put on, she
never fell until I shot her, six years afterwards, except twice—once in
a rabbit hole, and once when a bank broke under her.

I had a small pack of drag hounds, the farmers living round

Rivenhall, where my mother lived, allowing me to take the Drag
anywhere I liked, out of love of my father’s memory. One farmer in
reply to my request to cross his fields, sent me a message, “Tell
Muster Evelyn if there be any one field where he can do most
damage, I hope he will go there.” Some of the younger ones
assisted me by taking on the drag occasionally, so I hunted under
favourable conditions, “Vagabond” and “Fractious” carrying me, or
my sister, fifteen times in twenty-three successive days. I generally
rode “Vagabond” with the Drag the day before I hunted him with the
Stag Hounds, and saved him all I could by putting the horse in the
train whenever it was possible; but as the kennels were five-and-
twenty miles off, I could seldom get a short day. One day I rode him
19 miles to the meet, had a good run of two hours, and then 29
miles home, after taking the deer north of Bishop’s Stortford, and
without putting him off his feed.
 I had a groom, excellent when he was sober; he came into my
service in December 1865, and up to the end of 1866, when I was at
Aldershot, had not given way to his besetting vice; but there the
attractions of the canteens were too great, and he became
troublesome. He should have arrived at my mother’s house with the
horses some hours before I did on the 14th of February 1868, but
did not appear till nightfall. When I went to the stable just before
dinner, I found that the horses had apparently been fed and
watered, but the man was drunk. Seeing his condition, I
endeavoured to avoid him, especially as my mother’s coachman was
also under the influence of liquor although not intoxicated; but the
groom approached me rapidly, and as I thought with the intention of
hitting me over the head with a lantern, so, knocking him down, I
held him by the throat while I called the coachman to bring a halter
and lash his legs. The groom had a keen sense of humour, and after
the trembling coachman had tied his feet he pulled one out,
observing, “Oh, you’re a blessed fool, to tie up a man!” and in
drunken tones he apostrophised me and all my family, finishing up
with the expression, “And you’re about the best of a d——d bad lot.”
I was nervous of leaving the man over the stable for fear he might
set fire to it, so putting him into a dog-cart my brother and I drove
over to the Petty Sessions House at Witham, where we saw the
Inspector of Police, who declined to take charge of him because he
was not “drunk and incapable in the street.” I asked, “If you saw him
drunk and incapable in the street would you then take charge of him
for the night?” “Yes, certainly, but not while he is in your carriage.” I
cast off the undergirth, and having tilted up the shafts, shot the
groom into the roadway, calling to the Inspector, “Now you can
properly take him up.” He reappeared next day, contrite, and
remained with me two or three years, until he became so
troublesome I was obliged to part with him. He was engaged by the
Adjutant-General of the Army, without any references to me, and
eventually having challenged him to fight, was knocked down, and
dismissed.
 My eldest child, born at Brighton in the summer, was for some
time delicate, the nurse and I watching her at night by turns for two
months. I had never been really well since I left the Staff College,
and this night-watching rendered me altogether incapable of work. I
was endeavouring to carry out my official duties while spending two
or three hours every evening at Brighton; this necessitated my
spending the night in a luggage train between Brighton, Redhill, and
Aldershot, with the result that at the end of August I broke down,
and was obliged to go away for a change of air. Towards the middle
of the next month I fainted five times one afternoon from the
intensity of the pain in the nerves of the stomach. All through 1868 I
was suffering from it, and it was not until a year later that Doctor
Porter, attached to the 97th Regiment, in the North Camp, cured me.
When he had done so, he asked to see me alone, and said, “Now I
have cured you of neuralgia, but I fear I have made you an opium-
eater for life.” I laughed, saying, “I think not.” “But you must feel a
craving for it, don’t you?” “Only when the pain is on.” “But haven’t
you got to like it?” “No; I have never got rid of the feeling that it is
exactly like soapsuds.” I remained ill so long, however, that I had to
face the contingency of being obliged to leave the Service, and
having some taste for Military law elected to qualify for the Bar.
During my service at Aldershot I had made an epitome of every
important decision given by Judges Advocate-General relative to
Courts Martial in the United Kingdom, and some years later Colonel
101
Colley asked permission of the War Office to have my notes
printed, for the guidance of his class at the Staff College. The
application was refused, with the quaint answer: “Permission cannot
be given on account of the many conflicting decisions.” It is only
right I should add the office being then Political, the holders
changed with the Government.
The Heads of the Army inculcate uniformity of punishment, but
they do not always succeed. In the spring of the year, Frank
Markham, Sir Alfred Horsford’s Aide-de-Camp, Cricket Club Secretary,
asked me for a fatigue party to roll the officers’ ground in
anticipation of the match. I said, “No, you can have a working party.”
“Oh, but I have got no funds.” “Then go over to the —— and get
some defaulters to roll your ground.” “I have been there already, and
the Adjutant says if I go after Monday I can have as many as I want;
but that is too late, for we play on Monday, and so I cannot wait.”
“What does he mean by saying he has got no defaulters now?” “I
asked him that, and he explained that the Colonel being away there
were no defaulters, but he is coming back on Monday, and then
there will be as many as I can want.”
There came to Aldershot in the early summer a battalion
distinguished for the best Barrack-room discipline in the Army. At
that time it was commanded by a courteous gentleman, typical of
the old school. A delightful host in his Mess, on matters of duty he
was accurate to the verge of pedantry. Captain ——, a pillar of the
Regiment, being not only a good Company commander, but having
business attributes which enabled him to manage successfully all the
Regimental institutions, was courting his cousin, whom he
afterwards married. He had obtained leave from noon to go to
London on “urgent private affairs,” which were to meet the young
lady in the Botanical Gardens, and just as he was starting for the
102
one o’clock train at Farnborough, an orderly came to him, saying,
“The Colonel wants you in the orderly-room, sir.”
Captain —— got back into uniform, and, putting on his sword,
103
for in the “Wait-a-Bits” officers attending orderly-room always
wore swords, knocked at the door, and entered. The Commanding
officer was writing, and nodding pleasantly, said, “Yes, wait a bit,
please,” and proceeded to finish what was apparently a carefully
worded official document; at all events, it so seemed to the Captain,
who stood fidgeting with his watch and calculating whether he could
catch his train. At last, his patience being exhausted, he said, “I beg
your pardon, sir, but you wished to see me. May I know for what
purpose, as I want to catch a train?” “I wish, Captain ——,” replied
the Colonel, “to impress on you the necessity of being accurate in
any documents you send in to this office for my approval.” “I am not
aware,” the Captain said, “that I have sent any in, sir, for I have had
no prisoners for some time.” The Colonel then handed to him two
passes, which the Captain scanned carefully, without finding out
what was wrong. It was indeed difficult to make a mistake, as
everything except the dates and the signature was printed. After
close perusal, he handed them back, saying, “I am sorry, sir, but I
cannot see anything wrong.” The Chief replied slowly, “You have
applied for leave for two privates in your Company to be absent from
the 25 to the 27 of July, and if you look, you will see, in each case,
there is a ‘th’ and two dots wanting.” This was too much for the
Captain’s temper, and he said with much heat, “Have you sent for
me, sir, and caused me to lose my train, and thus fail to keep a most
important engagement in London, to tell me to put a ‘th’ and two
dots?” “Yes, Captain ——, I have. And I hope when you have the
honour of commanding this Regiment, like me you will appreciate
and teach the advantages of accuracy. Good-morning.” During the
operations then practised in and about the Long Valley he was a trial
to excited Aides-de-Camp, who galloping up would exclaim, “The
General wants you to advance immediately and attack.” To which the
Colonel would reply, “Kindly say that again—I am rather deaf.” And
after still more excited repetition would say calmly, “Let us wait a bit,
and see exactly what is required.” This peculiarity had no doubt
become known, and was partly the result of an explosion of anger,
and subsequent regret, on the part of the Commander-in-Chief, who
one day with his Staff was sitting on Eelmoor Hill South, practising
eleven battalions in a new formation imported from Germany, as
many movements have been since that time. The idea was to
advance in a line of columns, and by filling up the interval from the
Rear of each column to lull the enemy into the belief that there was
only a line advancing towards him. Five times in succession the
battalions advanced and retired, each column being formed of
double companies—that is, two companies in the front line. The
Chief now said, “I am going to try the same thing, but forming the
104
battalions in double columns of subdivisions.” When the Chief
gave the order to half a dozen Gallopers, he said, “Advance in a
double column of companies, filling up the intervals from the Rear
companies.” Five of us took the order as we knew the Chief
intended, but not as he said, for we had all heard he intended to
change the formation; but the sixth Galloper gave the “Wait-a-Bit”
battalion the literal order, and thus, after the Colonel had begun the
formation, looking to his right and left he saw that the others were
forming double columns of subdivisions, and he proceeded to
conform. This involved delay, and the Chief galloping down shouted
at him with an oath, “You are the slowest man, Colonel, in the
British Army.” He had been wounded in the Crimea, and did not
therefore carry a sword. Sitting erect on his horse, with his eyes
straight to the front, he threw up his maimed hand and saluted, and
the Chief rode back, vexed with himself and all the world, at having
lost his temper. Before we got to Eelmoor Hill again, I told the officer
who had taken the message that he ought to explain what had
happened; but as he absolutely declined, I told the Chief, who
turning his horse cantered back to the battalion, and made in a loud
voice a generous apology. I do not know that I admired the Colonel
particularly for his self-restraint in the first instance, but he gave me
a lasting lesson on hearing the apology, for his face did not relax in
the slightest degree nor did his eyes move. When the Chief had
ceased speaking, up again went the maimed hand with a grave,
punctilious salute—a grand example to his battalion of young
soldiers. When the troops were going home, the apology was
repeated; and then the Colonel, holding out his hand, said
pleasantly, “Pray, sir, say no more about it; I am fully satisfied.”
A few months later a Cavalry Colonel was called during a
manœuvre a “d——d fool,” for which at the Conference a full
apology was made. The Colonel, a most lovable character, although
a high-class gentleman in essentials, habitually used words as did
our soldiers in Flanders two hundred years ago. He was an excellent
Cavalry leader, although not by any means a finished horseman, and
had a habit of heaving his body up and down in the saddle when
excited. When the Chief had finished his apology, the Colonel blurted
out, “I do not mind, sir, being called a ‘d——d fool,’ but I do mind
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