COLONEL WOOD’S QUARTERS, ALDERSHOT, 1876–77
Mr. White coming to me one day, asked for a private interview, in which the following dialogue occurred:—“Colonel, you have been of great use to me about Camp Equipment and with your advice generally, and I have been thinking for some time that I should like to make you a proposition, but I hope if it displeases you you will forgive me.” I said, “What is it?” “Can I induce you to leave the Service, and join me in business?” “Yes, the subject would require thought as to terms, but if they were sufficiently good I would consider it for the sake of my children.” “Well, may I ask what terms you would require?”
After ten minutes’ calculation, I replied, “£3000 a year taken out of your business, and invested in any security approved by me, payable to me as long as I wish to retain it, irrespective of the time and attention I give to the business, or to our agreeing or disagreeing on any points.” Mr. White jumped, nearly falling off his chair, and observed, “£3000 a year is a large sum: pray may I ask what your pay is now, sir?” “£664, including allowances.” “The difference, you will allow me to say, is very great.” “It is, yet not so great as the difference in serving Her Majesty Queen Victoria and Thomas White.” “Oh, sir, I am afraid I have vexed you.” “No; on the contrary, you have paid me a greater compliment as to my capacity for business than I am likely to receive from anyone else.”
In August, my friend General W. Napier, the Governor of the Military College, Sandhurst, offered me the post of Commandant there, under him. All my relations with him and with his family had been of the happiest description, but I did not like the idea of settling down at Sandhurst before I commanded a battalion; this feeling influenced me again when I was informed I might be considered for the Staff College. Moreover, I thought Colonel Colley,[136] then Military Secretary to Lord Lytton, Viceroy of India, would make a far better Commandant of the Staff College in every respect (except in personally encouraging the drag hounds), and I asked a common friend to write and urge him to become a candidate. Colley replied that he was engaged in too important work, and I hesitated for some time as to whether I should ask for the post. My Regiment was amongst the first upon the Roster for the Colonies, and the prospect of serving as a Major on 16s. a day was not attractive when balanced against the advantages of the Staff College—£1000 a year, a good house, and the immediate proximity of Wellington College, where I intended to send my sons.
When the offer was definitely made, I consulted Sir Alfred Horsford, who had been one of my kindest friends ever since I served with him in the North Camp at Aldershot. I pointed out the pecuniary and other advantages, and when I had ceased speaking, he said, “Do you want my frank opinion?” “Certainly, sir, please.” “Well,” he answered, “accept it; and if your Regiment goes on Service you will be a miserable man for the rest of your days.” This settled the question in my mind.
Early in November, when coming from Belhus, where Sir Garnet Wolseley[137] and Colonel W. Butler[138] had been shooting, Butler mentioned in the course of conversation that if worse news came from the Cape, the 90th would be put under orders. Sir Garnet condoled with me, for although he was in the War Office at the time he was not aware of the state of the Roster for Foreign Service. He told me in confidence then, what I had suspected for some time, that we were on the brink of a war with Russia. Indeed, at Aldershot, not long before, I had given a lecture on “The Passages of the Danube and the Passes of the Balkans.”
The Ministry had intended to employ another General officer in Command, but he having stipulated for a larger number of men than the Government was willing to employ, at all events in the first instance, Lord Beaconsfield’s choice fell on Sir Garnet, and he told me how much he regretted that I should not be with him. I said, “Perhaps Cetewayo will give us a fight,” but he replied, “No, Shepstone will keep him quiet until we are ready.” Colonel Butler said, “When we fight Zulus, we shall want 10,000 men, and I shall go out on the second wave of Special Service officers.” And so he did.
The Officer commanding my Regiment was then, and may possibly have been all his life, a “Glassite,” but had latterly accepted the idea that it was immoral to fight. All the time I was at Aldershot I performed his duties on Courts Martial, as he was unwilling to take an oath. At the end of December, at his request, I accompanied him to London, when he asked that he might be allowed to remain in England, on leave, till the 1st April 1878,[139] when his command would expire, and that I should take out the battalion. He endeavoured to convey his wishes to the Adjutant-General and Military Secretary, but entirely failed to make them understand his position; indeed, I believe they imagined he was suffering under some physical ailment, for the words he frequently used were, that he “had the strongest reasons for not wishing to go into Camp.”
He embarked on the 11th January, and on the 27th I followed the battalion, having indeed been very unhappy since I saw them off at Southampton with the band playing “Far away.”
The battalion had its complement of Lieutenant-Colonel and two Majors, I (the Senior), being on the Staff, was supernumerary, so when a month later I was sent out, it was “On Special Service,” with the promise given to me verbally by the Commander-in-Chief, the Adjutant-General, and the Military Secretary, confirmed in a Memorandum which was handed to General Thesiger, that I should succeed to the command on the 1st April. But this understanding was not fulfilled.