In return for all this efficiency the pay of a Military Secretary is 1500 rupees a month, fifteen rupees being equal to £1, making about twelve hundred a year. In later years something was given in the way of compensation for the diminished value of the rupee, bringing it to about £1300 a year, all found, as the servants say.
Not every man possesses the necessary qualifications to enable him to fill this onerous post, for not only has the Military Secretary to mother the Viceroy so to speak, but he has to look after, advise and help Mrs. Viceroy, all the little Viceroys, their maids, governesses, butlers, coachmen and hangers on.
Lord William filled the post so satisfactorily that he was retained by three successive Viceroys; this speaks for itself. With the exception of Lord William I never met a really popular Military Secretary, there was always the qualifying “but” or “if,” but then the majority have perhaps had “fish to fry” of their own, which would bring them into ill favour with aspirants for the same frying-pan. It seems sad that the days of enthusiastic workers should be embittered by disappointment because promotion does not come soon enough, or someone else has forged ahead—then a few short chapters of life and we find “Finis,” and what has all the striving done for them? all the heart-burnings? Very soon their names are only blots of ink on pieces of paper, and probably these are put away in the lumber-room with other “forgottens.”
One of the refreshing things about Lord Bill was he was entirely devoid of any fish to fry for himself, he sought no high places, suffered from none of the discontents or scramblings after promotion or office that seem to have pervaded the lives of many great men, if we may judge by what we read of them, so he climbed no ladders at other people’s expense, pushing them down when arriving at the top, which gives such grave and not unnatural offence, leaving much bitterness in the minds and hearts of those who are feeling injured.
The two things in life which seem to cause the most unpleasantness are jealousy and class-hatred. Lord William disarmed both, it was not easy to be jealous of a man who asked nothing for himself, climbed over nobody, and who was so generous he would give away almost everything he possessed to anyone in need, whose pride of race only showed itself in honourable straightforwardness and unswerving singleness of purpose. No class could hate him, he was hail-fellow-well-met to all, thinking no ill of any man, and having a clean mind himself was not on the look-out for unpleasantness in other people. He had learnt that most valuable lesson of how to handle humanity, which spells success in life.
No doubt there are some people who will say, “Oh! but he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, with plenty of relations and friends to push and help him.” Even supposing for the sake of the argument we allow that, does anybody imagine that if Lord William had been unsatisfactory or incapable he would have been Military Secretary for so many years? and not to one Viceroy but to three, all of whom probably held more or less conflicting views, likes and dislikes, each one in turn passing through anxious times and moments of perplexity, yet all without exception spoke of him in terms of great appreciation and affection.
Many have obtained good posts, not all have kept them.
Amongst all the successful personages I can think of, there are none who have had so few jealous enemies as Lord William Beresford.
Unfortunately everyone who has anything to do with that noble animal, the horse, comes in for a certain amount of criticism and occasional abuse; it appears to be the inevitable or natural sequence of events.