I had not grasped until Lord William explained it to me that according to the rules of racing geography, Ireland, the Isle of Man, and the Channel Islands are not included in the expression Great Britain, they are only the United Kingdom.
Another perplexing thing when you see “owner” in connection with a horse’s name you rather naturally conclude the horse belongs to him, but as a matter of fact it may mean almost anything, the horse may only have been leased for his racing years, or he may be shared by partners when presumably only half the horse belongs to “Owner.” All of this was of course A B C to Lord William, and he knew every race, its dates and distances, stakes and conditions by heart. He considered Newmarket the best course in the world.
Liverpool is a terror; if any of my readers are interested in steeplechasing and have not been over the Aintree Course there, I advise them to walk round and look at the jumps in cold blood, they will wonder any horses or men can be found with pluck enough to face them. No Beresford, as far as I know, has ever yet seen his colours carried successfully in that much coveted prize, the Grand National at Liverpool, though Lord Marcus got fairly near once with Chimney Sweep, when he ran second to Captain Machell’s Reugny, ridden by that splendid amateur Mr. J. Maunsell Richardson, in 1874, and again in 1879, when Jackal carried the light blue and black cap, being beaten by Mr. Garry Moore on the Liberator. A Liverpool which will possibly for ever bear the unprecedented mark of four brothers, namely the Beasleys, having mounts in the chase, and they all made the course, “Tommy” Beasley coming home behind Lord Marcus’s horse.
Some of the Irish courses are also formidable. At the modern Leopardstown, for instance, where in the past there has been plenty of grief. Punchestown is not quite so bad; Irish horses do well there, they understand the kind of jumps.
At the end of 1895, Lord William entered into partnership with Mr. Pierre Lorillard, sharing a number of race-horses with him, amongst the most successful being Paris III, which was bought in 1896 from Mrs. White, who was I believe the widow of the Hon. James White so successful in Australian racing. The horse had raced in England in her name before being purchased by Lord William, but had done no good, directly he appeared in Lord William’s colours he won the popular Northamptonshire Stakes, value £925; now many years defunct. Five horses ran, but Paris III won by six lengths; it was a popular victory as he was favourite at 2 to 1. Cannon was up and the horse carried 3 lbs. overweight, nevertheless he won easily; he also won the Prince’s Handicap at Gatwick as well as the Lewes Handicap. Amongst other horses owned at this time were Diakka, Myakka, Caiman, and Nonsuch, sold later to the Prince of Wales, also Berzak, which latter was a bitter disappointment, as he failed to stand his preparation for the Derby.
The partnership did not last long, as the doctors advised Mr. Lorillard to give up racing for a time, but they had won twenty-seven races before the partnership was dissolved. Lord William bought Mr. Lorillard’s interest in the stable.
In December, 1896, while out with the Warnham Stag Hounds, Lord William met with a terrible accident, Mr. Palmer, who has already been mentioned, happening to be out the same day on a horse he had lately bought from his lordship; they were both crossing the Gatwick racecourse after a check, there were some stiff railings in front of them, which there was no occasion to jump as there was an opening further down, but a lady riding in front cleared the rails satisfactorily, that was quite enough, for Lord William must of course follow; unfortunately either his horse slipped or took off too late, turning a somersault over the railings, poor Lord William beneath him dangerously near his heels, but he called out to Mr. Palmer to sit on his horse’s head, when a most curious thing happened. Mr. Palmer in his anxiety to get quickly to help his lordship did not notice some wire netting under the broken fence, over this he fell right on to the horse’s head, this so startled him he got up without any kicking or plunging, releasing his rider. Help was called, as evidently Lord William was badly hurt; on a stretcher they carried the poor sufferer to a neighbouring house, where he was examined, but in the stress and hurry a wrong diagnosis was arrived at. Mr. Palmer telegraphed to London for a specialist, and to his local doctor at Dorking, then a medical man who happened to be present and Mr. Palmer took him home, where the local doctor was awaiting them and shortly afterwards the specialist from town arrived. It was then discovered that his pelvis had been broken, so his suffering can be well imagined; they had been considerably augmented I hear at the house he was first carried into with the kindly but terribly mistaken endeavour to pull off his boots instead of cutting them off. Mr. Palmer says he shall never forget the agonies that were suffered and yet not a murmur or word of impatience, not even a groan from the martyr. He was most anxious his wife should not be shocked with the news, as an interesting event was looked forward to in the early spring, and she was at the time resting. The news was carefully kept from her until the doctors had done their work. He was bound up and put to bed, where of course he remained for some time hovering between life and death. One day when his doctors hoped he had turned the corner and was going to recover, they told him he was with luck going to recover, but that 99 out of a 100 with broken pelvis bones did not. As they were leaving the room they heard Lord Bill laughing, seeing nothing to laugh at they asked what amused him, he replied, “Oh nothing, I was only thinking of the other 99 poor devils!”
Certainly Lord William got about again after a time, but he was never the same man, his pluck and spirit were still unquenchable, but his powers of physical resistance were shattered. He tired more easily and did not feel up to much exertion; he got up too soon, being anxious to attend the funeral of his sister-in-law, Blanche Lady Waterford, to whom he was greatly attached. This was February 22nd, 1897. Everybody tried to dissuade him, fearing it might throw him back, but he would go.
Lord William was at his best when telling stories against himself; here is one of them. He had a party in the house for covert shooting, he did not care very much for the sport himself, and had not done much of it, though he enjoyed a day at the time. He used to leave the arranging and managing of the shoots chiefly to Mr. Palmer. One of these shooting parties was being arranged and he told Mr. Palmer to bring his young son whom he was sure would enjoy a day with the pheasants. The little lad was about twelve, and his name was Spencer, he stood mostly by Lord William during the day. When he went home at night having had a very happy day, he asked his father if he ought not to write and thank Lord William for letting him see the shooting, to which his father replied, “Certainly.”
“What shall I say, father?” asked the boy.