Admiral Rous, who died in June 1877, had left the Navy some forty years before, principally, I believe, on account of the scant recognition which a considerable feat of seamanship performed by him, under the very greatest difficulties, had received from the authorities at Whitehall.
Setting sail from Quebec in command of the Pique, his ship struck upon a reef off the coast of Labrador, and was only got off in a terribly damaged condition, the rudder being practically torn away. Notwithstanding this, Captain Rous ran three thousand miles to Spithead in twenty days, the vessel making about two feet of water an hour the whole time, which entailed tremendous exertions at the pumps on the part of the crew, who would undoubtedly have abandoned hope had it not been for the indomitable spirit of their commander.
Admiral Rous was a great opponent of high betting, which he always declared meant ruin to the Turf. Like many of his contemporaries he hated tobacco, the smoking of which he considered almost an ungentlemanly act. Besides being devoted to racing, the old Admiral would never acquiesce in the modern view of cock-fighting, which he defended to the end in the most uncompromising manner. To-day the race of men of whom he was a type has totally disappeared, for modern England does not breed them; but whether such a state of affairs is for the country’s good seems to me a very doubtful question. Bluff and straightforward, totally devoid of superficial sentimentality, such men expressed the very spirit which has made that British Empire which a feebler and more sentimental generation, prone to much prattle of humanitarian and socialistic fads, would seem desirous of destroying.
George Payne, who lived not far away from us in Queen Street, Mayfair, was another man whose whole existence may be said to have centred in the Turf, though, unlike Admiral Rous, the attraction with him lay a good deal in the betting. Nevertheless, unflinchingly honourable and high-minded, Mr. Payne was a great deal more than a mere gambler.
GEORGE PAYNE’S RELIGION
Many are the stories that have been told of his distaste for going to church; yet at heart he was anything but an irreligious man, as the following anecdote will show. The late Lord Alexander Gordon Lennox was one night returning from some party with Mr. Payne; it was very late, and both were very tired. Reaching the latter’s house, Lord Alexander said, “Now, old fellow, you will be in bed in five minutes”; to which the answer was “No.” “Why,” continued the original speaker, “whatever are you going to do?” To which George Payne replied, “I am going to say my prayers. I always have a bucket of cold water in my room, and if I am very tired, put my head in it to waken me up to say my prayers.”
Lord Alexander also used to say that George Payne would never stand any young fellow saying anything against religion at the club, but would at once flare out at the offender.
There are, indeed, many people like George Payne, who, whilst they may not be regular churchgoers, are yet at heart religious in the best sense of the word. A certain gallant officer, for instance, who commanded a battalion of the Guards, though not very fond of going to church, used, when in the country, to make a practice of going for a long walk alone, during which he would indulge in meditation. On one occasion he was attacked by some one who, in the course of his oration, said, “Why, one would think you soldiers had no souls to save!” The author of this somewhat impertinent homily was, however, completely routed by the good-humoured answer which the Colonel in question made. He calmly looked the lecturer in the face, and merely remarked, “Mayn’t a man save his soul by the way he likes best?”
As a matter of fact Satan is willing enough to let men go to church on Sunday provided they work for him the rest of the week, as I fear many outwardly religious people do!
In his career upon the Turf George Payne was peculiarly unfortunate from a financial point of view; as is well known, he completely dissipated two fortunes. By no means really astute, he would back a number of horses in a race in the—usually delusive—hope of making sure of the winner, a mania which cost him much.