Cavalry Life and Regimental Legends

Front matter

STORIES BY JOHN STRANGE WINTER. A SOLDIER'S CHILDREN. With 34 Illustrations by E. G. Thomson and E. Stuart Hardy. Crown 8vo., cloth, 3s 6d. CAVALRY LIFE. Post 8vo., picture boards, 2s. ; cloth, 2s. 6d. REGIMENTAL LEGENDS. Post 8vo., picture boards, 2s. ; cloth, 2s. 6d. CAVALRY LIFE and REGIMENTAL LEGENDS. Library Edition, the Two Series in one volume. Crown 8vo. , clolh, 3s. 6d. London : CHATTO & WINDUS, rir St. Martin's Lane. CAVALRY LIFE AND REGIMENTAL LEGENDS CAVALRY LIFE AND REGIMENTAL LEGENDS BY JOHN STRANGE WINTER AUTHOR OF ' ROOTLES BABV,' ' A SOLDIER'S CHILDREN,' ETC. LIBRARY EDITION LONDON CHATTO & WINDUS CONTENTS CAVALRY LIFE PAOE

Preface

iii REGIMENTAL life 5 A REGIMENTAL MARTYR ; OR, HOW GERARD ST. HILARY WAS DRIVEN INTO MATRIMONY' .... 13 A REGIMENTAL VALENTINE ; OR, HOW PATRICK o'sHAUGH- NASSY WAS HELPED INTO MATRIMONY 29 42 A REGIMENTAL POET ; OR, BORROWED PLUMES 63 THE HERO OF THE REGIMENT THE ORDEAL BY' PAINT ; OR, MY FIRST DAY' IN THE REGI- MENT ...... .so A CHERUB'S FACE UNDER A FORAGE-CAP 90 CALCRAFT A TROOPEH 102 THE VICTORIA CROSS : WHY MAJOR CREYKE DID NOT WIN IT 112 119 THE CAPTAIN OF F TROOP 132 THE SIGN OF THE GOLDEN SWAN 140 HUMPTY-DUMPTY 146 A REGIMENTAL AUTOCRAT . 1.51 HIS PRINCESS BY-AND-BY ; OR, HOW RICHARD CARTER SHOT AT A PIGEON AND BROUGHT DOWN A CROW 173 186 SUPERSEDED 207 THE LADY-KILLER-IN-CHIEF '225 THE SAD HISTORY OF BOB SABRETASCHE CONTENTS PAGE 245 A SATANIC A. DO 252 SERGEANT THE HONOURABLE HUGH BRABAZON N ; OR, AS WE GO ON 265 A REGIMENTAL LODGE ; OR, HOW JACK HARTOG WAS MADE 276 A FREEMASON CONSCIENCE 288 REGIMENTAL LEGENDS.

PREFACE.

....... 309 UNDER THE CROWN; AN INCIDENT OF A RAILWAY JOURNEY' 311 THE COST OF A LIE . . . . .315 THE HAND OF THE DEAD ..... 338 WAFTED FROM PARADISE ..... 347 PALLAS ATHENE ...... 354 COMPENSATION ...... 377 OPEN TO THE GARRISON ..... 400 THE VANITY OF BOOTLES . . . . 41 6 A JUST CAUSE AND IMPEDIMENT .... 428 OLD LOVES OR NEW ? . . . . . 447 MONSIEUR LE CHEVALIER ..... 476 A LITTLE DRESSMAKER . . . . .488 LOO ....... 503 KOOSJE: A STUDY OF DUTCH LIFE . . . 531 scamp ! . . . . . . . 54,7 A REGIMENTAL ÆSTHETE ..... CAVALRY LIFE i

PREFACE.

. I have received orders from my Publishers to write a Preface to the collection of sketches now to be offered to the public. A Preface ! What an order ! I would as soon write another volume ; it certainly would be the easier task of the twain. It has to be done, of course ; but how, I don't know. I never wrote a Preface in my life. I have not the least idea how to set about it ; though I am in an utter agony of apprehension, lest defects in this absolute necessity should ' mull ' the effect of the whole. I have consulted a friend on the subject, who says, ' Pooh ! if you can write a book full of sketches, you can write a Preface '; and he says it as glibly as if it is nothing more difficult than an acceptance of a dinner invitation, and can be dashed off at a moment's notice. I explain to him that a book full of ' sketches ' is an easy matter.

I simply take a real soldier out of a real regiment, and give him somebody else's real name ; I put real jokes into his mouth, and relate real incidents which happened to him or to somebody else. But I cannot do that with a Preface ; where shall I find a Preface in real life? My friend assumes a serious aspect, and, leaving the question of the Preface altogether, remarks that, in his opinion, I am playing a dangerous game. ' Supposing,' says he wisely — ' supposing any fellow recog nises his own portrait.' I know that ' any fellow ' is much more likely to recognise some ' other fellow's ' portrait than his own : though, goodness knows, they are nearly all unvarnished enough for the most obtuse self-blindness to see clearly through the thin disguise cast over them. 1—2

PREFACE.

Mais revenons a nos moutons — otherwise our Preface. I fear all this is terribly out of order ; yet there are one or two things I should like to say, whether they are out of order or not. I wish the sketches to be taken strictly for what they are — portraits from life of our British-born sons of Mars. I own frankly that characters and incidents are, for the most part, real characters and incidents, slightly shuffled and embroidered, and that all have a foundation of truth. The old letters introduced into 'His Princess ' (date 1759 176l) are simply copies of the originals. I certainly did mend up the spelling and the punctuation a bit — both were vile ; for, finding it such a nuisance to wade through them myself, I feared my readers would never trouble to look at them, unless I translated them into plainer English.

And thus I launch my military children (not quite of fancy) upon the world ; dedicating the portraits to the originals — to all the gentlemen who have been unconsciously my models — I make my bow, and sign myself the thereby greatly obliged Author. Very few people have any conception of how severe a school the Army is. I speak more especially of the mounted branch of the service, because popular writers of fiction are more fond of ' writing up ' cavalry officers than any other. One has grown intimately acquainted with life in the mess room, as so many authors depict it. One has learned all the names officers are popularly supposed to bestow upon one another. There is ahvays a colonel, old, white-haired, and singularly amiable, who is a sort of protecting father to all his officers, He looks after their love-affairs, of which, by-the-by, in real life, a chief is supposed to remain in blissful ignorance.

He sees they are not ' put upon ' by their seniors; is frequently spoken to as 'old fellow,' and very often falls in love with the young lady who has gained the affections of one of his ' subs ' of, say, six weeks' standing. Then comes the major — generally a woman-hater, this. Why a major should invariably hold the fair sex in detesta tion is not often explained ; but there the truth is, stem and unvarnished, and the reader has to make the best of it. Sometimes this woman-hater falls in love, and is transformed into a husband of the most exemplary description, but more often he remains in his unpleasant character to the end of the chapter. I wonder, does it never occur to the writer that, in the natural course of events, a man fond of soldiering, who sticks to it, must get promotion ? In that case, does the major take up his predecessor's paternal line of action, and was the typical chief a woman-hater also, before he obtained his regiment ?

Amongst the captains there are various characters ; there is one who can do anything or everything. He can sing, hunt, fish, ride ; he can win a steeplechase on the veriest screw, by virtue of his brilliant riding ; he can shoot, draw, and paint, act, dance, and do everything under the sun with equal perfection. He is one of those whom the gods love, and he does not die young. He is like the princess in the fairy tale, who was fortunate enough to have three fairy godmothers, for every luxury and blessing seems to have been showered down upon him. He is singularly handsome, too — generally of the type which, but for the moustaches, might serve for the face of a young duchess ; he has more money than he can spend, which, as he is in a cavalry regiment, must be con siderable. He has a wonderful constitution, too, for he can drink all night — brandy-and-sodas, save the mark! — and yet he is up with the lark in the morning, at some innocent and healthy pursuit, which, though you might find occupying a schoolboy, never in this world induced an officer, after a night of unlimited brandy-and-soda, to turn out of his com fortable bed until the very last moment.

And the most wonderful of all is that, in spite of these excesses, our hero's eyes never lose their brightness or their clearness ; his hand and aim are invariably as steady as a rock. To finish the list of this gentleman's charms, he is an accomplished flirt ; his very name is a terror to mothers and husbands, and yet he usually ends by marrying some insipid unformed child just out of the schoolroom, and, like the married major, settles down into a steadygoing country squire, without a wish or an idea beyond his childish wife, his hunting, and his shorthorns ; in fact, he sinks into a state of bucolic stupidity, and altogether forgets the days when he was the boast — very frequently the toast — of 'ours,' and was known far and wide as ' Beauty ' so-and-so. Then there is another captain who smokes.

Of him we do not see very much ; his life, his thoughts, his conversation, and his character may be summed up in the single word smoke j and so very properly his existence, for us, is but hazy. The senior subaltern and his duties are utterly ignored ; and most prominent of all these military children of fancy is the young cornet. He is very young, this wonderful boy, and he has a decided tendency to go wrong ; but everyone pets him and makes much of him, and he is popularly known as ' Baby ' or ' Prettyface,' sometimes as ' the Cherub " or 'the Seraph.' For this youth the protecting friendliness of the fatherly colonel comes into play, and it is wonderful how many duties and infringements he is excused. He, like our friend the popular captain, is fair to look upon, being of the duchess type, graceful in bearing and dainty in colouring.

Lastly, we have the regimental surgeon, whom we must one and all own a perfect monstrosity. He is lanky, ugly, ill-dressed, speaks with a strong brogue, or maybe a Tyne side twang or Northumbrian burr, and altogether excites the curiosity of the reader as to how such a man attained his position. Sometimes we are admitted into the troop-rooms, and the chief feature we find there is the blind devotion of the men to the officers, or one officer in particular ; not only blind devotion, but passionate admiration and keen interest in all their proceedings. How very, very different is real life in a barrack ! How respectful the 'sir' with which the colonel and the major are addressed ! How very different is the behaviour of the j unior officers, and how mercilessly severe are the manner and j udgments of ' the senior sub ' !

The very slightest infringement of regimental rules is visited with an anteroom court-martial ; and the punishments awarded are no mere child's play ; they are often corporal, and in all cases severe. In one regiment, which for convenience' sake we will call the Cuirassiers, two subs, lately joined, omitted to rise for early stables, when it was their turn for duty as orderly officer. The result was, not that these two only were repri manded, but that the whole of the subalterns were called into the orderly-room, and, to use their own language, were 'jolly well slated.' The two delinquents were not especially mentioned, and thought to hear no more of the matter. Not so. The others simply bided their time until midnight, when, the senior officer having retired, an anteroom court-martial was called, and the defaulters were brought up for trial, and, being convicted, sentenced to punishment.

And in what did that punishment consist ? Not in a ' slating,' but each was sentenced to receive three strokes of a birch rod from every member of the court-martial ; that is, about thirty strokes each, and well laid on ! As soon as a subaltern joins his regiment, he is submitted to a course of practical jokes, ill-treatment, and bullying all round, to which he must offer no resistance, or his career will be a short one. For instance, a few years ago a man named Royd joined this same regiment, and on his first evening amongst his new comrades was 'drawn.' That is to say, he was visited in his room during the small hours of the morning and ordered to go down into the anteroom for court-martial, the charge against him being that he had risen from the dinner-table whilst an officer senior to him remained sitting.

Royd, being of huge stature and gigantic strength, stoutly resisted, and eventually picked up the largest man in the room, carried him out on to the landing, and dropped him over the baluster on to the flagged passage below. The effect was magical ; in an instant all the hubbub was hushed, and the injured man was raised. Fortunately the result was nothing worse than a sprained ankle and a severely-bruised hip. He took it very quietly, and merely looked up at Royd, who was standing near, and said coolly, ' I'll have you out for this.' Very possibly the new-comer did not think much of the threat, but his career was virtually over ; at every hour of the day and night did he have cause to repent that hasty action, and during the autumn manœuvres of that year the climax came. It was in this wise : On a pouring wet day, or, rather, night, he had to visit the pickets, and as, for some reason, he had no horse, was compelled to do the rounds on foot.

On coming in after a tramp of some miles thoroughly soaked and tired out, he was ordered to visit yet another outlying picket six or seven miles away. Then was his tormentor's opportunity ; he would not permit him to take a troop horse, though he himself was riding. Tired, cold, and wet, this young subaltern reached the picket ; something went wrong, as did his temper, and he swore at one of the men. His fate was sealed. His senior immediately put him under arrest, and he was told by the colonel that he must send in his papers or undergo trial by court-martial. Of course he left the regiment. A young officer is not even permitted to dress himself as he pleases. It was reported in the anteroom of the Cuirassiers that one of the junior officers had been seen in Piccadilly wearing an Inverness cloak.

On his return from town he was ordered by the senior captain to produce the article in question, and it was burnt before his eyes. ' Whilst you are an officer of the Cuirassiers, sir,' said the senior captain, ' you will dress like a gentleman, and not as if you had bought your clothes out of a slop-shop in Blooms bury.' Sometimes a newly-joined officer attempts the hail-fellow well-met style of intercourse with his seniors, but his intentions are nipped in the bud with marvellous celerity. Such an one joined the Cuirassiers during the leave season, and tried his system upon the major. ' Ah, Houghton,' said he, one day after lunch, while several officers, including the major, were standing about the ante room fire, 'will you go down to the rink with me this after noon ?' The cool audacity of this proposal stopped every tongue in the room, and all listened breathlessly for the major's reply. ' I don't mind,' he said quietly, much more quietly than they had expected ; but probably he wished to see how far this young gentleman's assurance would take him. 'Ah, very well, ill be ready about four o'clock, so come round to my rooms and look me up.' This was a matter for the senior sub's notice, and although he was not in the room at the time, the conversation was quickly reported to him, and he as quickly sent for the delinquent. ' Now, look here, young chap,' he began, ' this sort of thing won't do at all.

If the major asks you to go anywhere with him, you will tell him whether you'll go or you won't, but you'll not propose going to the rink or anywhere else with him. And another thing, when you address him you will say "major" or "sir." I am very much astonished that the major did not speak to you himself about it.' Then life in a barrack is by no means such an existence of ease, luxury, and time-killing as novelists would fain make us believe. Take, for example, the duties of the orderly officer for the day. He must rise at six o'clock for early stables, or the whole of the subalterns suffer in consequence ; then he has to go round the breakfasts, see that they are all right, and hear any complaints ; then, if it is not a field-day, he must ride with the troops to watering order ; he must visit the hospital ; then come morning stables, and as likely as not, if he be stationed at Aldershot or Colchester, he will be on court-martial, for which he has all the nuisance of getting into full dress, and may think himself very lucky if he miss the orderly-room business and the round of the dinners.

In the afternoon he must again visit the hospital, and probably there will be a parade ; certainly he will have the picket to mount, and as like]}' as not he will have to walk a mile or so to do it. Then he has the first hour's rest of the day, and at half-past five he must turn out again for afternoon stables and 'teas'; then hospital once more. He does eat his dinner in peace, but he must receive the watch-setting reports and mount the guard ere bedtime. Nor should mention be omitted of the number of times the orderly officer has to sign his name and to change his uniform. If his turn fall upon Sunday, he must accompany the commanding officer around the married quarters, but as some compensation for that he escapes church parade, and so is spared the trouble of getting into full dress — no light matter, more especially in the item of the boots.

The imposition of fines is another method of punishing infringements of regimental rules. If an officer is not properly shaven, if he puts on any part of his uniform wrongly, he must pay for the champagne drunk at dinner that evening. This fine is also enforced for swearing or using bad language in the presence of the chaplain or any senior officer, and also for dropping the sword. On certain occasions an officer must pay when it is not a case of fining. If he gets promotion, if he brings home the regiment from the drill field for the first time as commanding officer, if he wins a race, or is going to be married, at all such times he has to ' stand ' champagne. Our novelists do well to give their military heroes an inexhaustible rent-roll. There are very few such out of the Guards, and soldier servants have to be very well up in methods of getting rid of duns and such other unwelcome visitors as their masters do not care to be at home to.

Another terrible mistake made by novelists is the magnifi cence with which they surround their heroes in quarters. If such could but once peep into the room (for an officer has seldom but one room, even if he is no longer a subaltern, excepting at Colchester, where each cavalry officer has a room about twelve feet by fourteen, and a tiny dressing-room, just half that size) of any ordinary hussar, dragoon or lancer, he or she — I suspect it is most often the women who are so fond of soldier heroes — would never again depict him in rooms resembling a very fine lady's boudoir. Oh, the patched walls, the bare paint, the marks on the door where the lock gave way the last time the owner was ' drawn ' by his comrades, the blackened ceiling, the almost invariable absence of window blinds, the miserable regulation fender fastened to the floor, the more miserable regulation coal-scuttle, and, most miserable of all, the regulation barrack chairs !

It is all so wonderfully unlike the barrack-room of fiction. There is the very rickety crib of a bed, made to take in pieces upon occasion, and which by daytime the servant, with the aid of cretonne covers for the pillows and a fur carriage rug, converts into a sofa ; and there is the dressing-table, likewise hung all round with cretonne, and which strikes one as being remarkably high for its purpose. Just pull the cretonne curtain a little, and half the front will open, showing you that it is but a make-believe table after all, and, stripped of its hangings, would stand forth a packing-case ! Well, it is both a toilette-table and a wardrobe now, for piled upon the shelves, which have been put in temporarily, are the various suits of clothes belonging to the owner of the room. Then over there, on the other side of the room, is the inevitable chest of drawers, which, when travelling, just fit nicely inside the dressing-table.

They are exactly like the drawers in every room in the barracks, are of mahogany, have brass handles, and a despatch-box and writing-desk combined in the middle drawer at the top. Then the lid of our friend's bath, being fitted with three legs which screw in and out at pleasure, makes a very convenient writing-table if covered with a cloth, and into the bath itself, for travelling, the legs go, together with the tripod, washing-stand, and the tin basin and ewer. Some officers have pianos, but they are always hired, and most officers have a few pictures and little trifles to scatter about their room. For instance, a couple of fur rugs thrown across the huge barrack armchairs take off from their ugliness much, and if a soldier is fortunate enough to know a lady who will work him a cover for his cot, his room will look much more presentable.

And yet at best a soldier's room is but a ' shake-down,' and if he be rich or poor, he seldom attempts to make it otherwise. The handsomest room I ever saw in barracks was that of a captain of dragoons ; in fact, he had been fortunate enough to secure two large rooms, those which, if he had required them, would have been allotted to the major. This man was very rich, and had certainly taken a good deal of trouble to make his rooms habitable, and yet — well, they were only barrack-rooms. There were the usual make-shifts, and when the fur rug slipped off the great easy-chair in which I sat, I saw the broad straps which served for arms, and which told me it was just the same as I had seen in barrack-rooms so many times before. The rooms of a well-known colonel of cavalry, a man who now possesses a title and thirty thousand a year, were simply beggarly, not nearly so handsome as was the one little room of his vet, of which I had just a glimpse.

And why? Because one room was the man's hobby ; the other was not. One more word and I have done ; it concerns the fancy names bestowed upon soldiers in novels. The)' are all fancy names, and in real life do not exist. In no case have I ever known a name given in recognition of a man's personal comeliness, such as Cherub, Beauty, Adonis, Apollo, Pretty face, and the like. One of the handsomest men I ever knew was commonly known as The Spider. Why, I cannot tell — not because he was like one. In closing, I will give a few names I have actually known : The Infant (weighing twenty one stone), The Cob, David, The Winter Apple, King Kobo, Old Muzzie, The Spider, Landy-fandy-Widden, Sprouts, Bole, The Admiral, Paddy K , Tin Whistle, Illigant John of Bath, The Lady-killer, Mother Hubbard, Billy Buttons, Piggie, Alphabet.

Most frequently men's own names are abbreviated ; thus, at one time in a distinguished lancer regiment there were any amount of Bills and Billys. In another of hussars, the name of David prevailed ; nearly all were Davids, even a race-horse belonging to one of the officers. When the personal appearance of an officer is not pre possessing, a name is quickly found for him. Any remark on the subject of ' looks ' meets with a rejoinder sharp and to the point. Said one Cuirassier to another : ' Why, your nose is so stuck up, one might hang one's hat on it.' ' Well, my dear chap,' was the read)' reply, ' one certainly couldn't on yours.' And it was true enough. A REGIMENTAL MARTYR; OR, HOW GERARD ST. HILARY WAS DRIVEN INTO MATRIMONY. chapter i. ' Make hay in St. Hilary's room to-night.' Lieutenant Gerard St. Hilary came leisurely down the broad corridor and staircase of the officers' quarters in the cavalry barracks at Milchester, and crossed the passage leading to the anteroom.

As he turned the handle of the door, a fragment of the conversation within fell upon his ear — ' Make hay in St. Hilary's room to-night.' ' The deuce !' ejaculated that young gentleman. 'Sentry-box him first,' cried a voice, which he recognised as Captain Gurney' s, a man well up the list of captains, who was old enough to have known better; 'and if that doesn't fetch him, hammer the door in. ' ' Ha, ha, ha !' laughed a chorus of voices, under cover of which the intended victim beat a retreat. ' Sentry-box me ! Ah, thank you, Captain Gurney !' he exclaimed when he had reached the shelter of his own room ; 'forewarned is forearmed, and I'm on my guard this time.' Hastily changing his undress for mufti, Mr. St. Hilary made the best of his way out of barracks, going in the direction of Milchester.

The regiment of which he was butt-in-chief for practical jokes was the 52nd Dragoons of famous Peninsular memory. Perhaps his unfailing good temper made him more subject to this form of wit than would have been the case if he had borne malice and sulked. An outsider would, perhaps, say, Why did not he report the offenders, and so secure peace ? But anyone with the least knowledge of regimental life could answer that for a subaltern to adopt such a course would simply be to limit his career in the army to a very short period. Of course, during the process he blustered a good deal, and frequently threatened to tell the chief all about it the very first thing in the morning ; but, fortunately for his brother officers, Gerard St. Hilary had a peculiarity. After 2 a.m. he could not keep his eyes open, and was glad to make any bargain that would leave him in peace.

It was invariably the same : Lieutenant St. Hilary, lightly clad, as likely as not soaked with water, standing in the centre of a group of excited comrades in mess-dress, expressing his determination ' to have no more of this foolery, by Jove !' ' Go it, Jerry ! pile it up, my boy !' one would cry, amidst the jeers of the bystanders. ' I'm surprised at you, D' Albert !' poor Jerry would cry in disgust. ' I'll report you in the morning, upon my soul I will ! though you are a captain.' Small heed did the 52nd take of these awful threats. Was not the end unchanging ? Presently St. Hilary would begin to shiver, then Sleep would come dropping her grains of sand into Gerard's blue eyes, and his comrades knew that then was their time. ' Now, Jerry, old man, if you forgive us, you shall go to bed.' ' Well, let me be quiet,' was poor Jerry's answer (it was always the same), 'and I'll say no more about it.' The gratitude of the rioters was generally shown on these occasions by the careful way in which they tucked Gerard up in bed and reduced his room to something like order.

Alas ! only something. Order generally took days and a visit to the upholsterers to effect, with much groaning from Jerry's man on the subject of what he called 'them idjiots.' Poor Gerard had undergone every possible form of practical joking, and he was become a little tired of it ; the trodden worm will turn, and he was thoroughly determined to put a stop to it once for all, though it must be owned he didn't quite know how to set about it. However, enough on that head. I will just explain what is meant by ' sentry-boxing ' and ' making hay,' and then go on with my story. The doors of an officer's rooms are usually made of strong material, the hammering in of which is a long process ; in order, therefore, to draw the victim from his lair, without his suspect ing mischief, they knock at his door and tell him the eolonel or the major wants him at once, or cry ' Fire !' at the other end of the corridor.