SMYRNA
At Beyrout we took an Austrian boat and had a most interesting voyage, stopping at Larnaca (Cyprus) and at Rhodes, where I had just time to run up the Street of the Knights. Early on Easter Eve we reached Smyrna, where we stayed at the British Consulate with Mr. Holmwood till the following afternoon. There was a considerable population of mixed nationalities, amongst them English whose children had never been in England. Some of the young women whom we saw in church on Easter Sunday were plump, white-skinned, and dark-eyed like Orientals. Mr. Holmwood said that many were sent for education to Constantinople, andapparently an Eastern life, necessarily with little exercise or occupation, had even affected their appearance.
It was by no means safe in those days to venture far outside the town, for brigands were dreaded, and only some two years previously had carried off the sons of one of the principal English merchants and held them to ransom. They sent word that they would let them go free if the father would come unarmed and unattended to a certain spot and bring £500. On his undertaking to do so they liberated the boys without waiting for the actual money, but the youngest died from the effects of exposure, their captors having had constantly to move to avoid pursuit. Mr. Holmwood would not let us out of the sight of himself and his dragoman, for he said that the Turks, unlike the Greeks, had no respect for women.
A Canon Cazenove who was in our ship officiated on Easter Sunday. The British Government having ceased to subsidise a chaplain for the Consular Church, there was only service when a travelling clergyman could be annexed, but the congregation rolled up joyfully at short notice. While we were in church we heard cannon discharged outside in honour of the Sultan’s birthday, and the impression was somewhat strange—an English service in the precincts of one of the Seven Churches of the Revelation, a congregation partly of travelling, partly of orientalised British, and without the echoes of Mohammedan rule. Poor Smyrna! still the battleground of warring races.
We resumed our voyage and I was thrilled when we passed Tenedos, touching at Besika Bay and seeing in the distance the Plains of Troy. We entered the Dardanelles in rain and mist, and I think it was fortunate that we got through safely, as our Austrian captain,though a mild lover of little birds, was also credited with an affection for drink. A fine morning followed the wet evening; Sir Edgar Vincent sent a boat from the Bank to meet us, and received us most hospitably in his charming house. During a delightful week at Constantinople we saw all the “lions” of that wonderful city, under his auspices.
Despite its unrivalled position and the skill and wealth lavished upon it by Christendom and Islam, I do not think that Constantinople takes the same hold upon one’s affection as Athens or Rome. Many of the buildings seem to have been “run up” for the glory of some ruler rather than grown up out of the deep-rooted religion or patriotism of a race. St. Sophia is glorious with its cupola and its varied marble columns, but greatly spoilt by the flaunting green shields with the names of the companions of the Prophet; and the whole effect is distorted because the prayer carpets covering the pavement have to slant towards the Kebla, the niche or tablet indicating the direction of Mecca; whereas the Mosque, having been built as a Christian church, was destined to look towards Jerusalem—at least it was built so that the congregation should turn to the East.
There was, however, one beautiful object which we were delighted to have seen while it retained a brilliance which it has since lost. There were in a new building in process of erection opposite the Museum four tombs which had lately been discovered near Sidon and brought to Constantinople by Hampdi Bey, Director of the School of Art. All were fine, but the finest was that dignified by the name of Alexander’s Tomb. The attribution was doubtful, but not the beauty. They had been covered up while the building was in progress,but were just uncovered and we were allowed to see them. The unrivalled reliefs on “Alexander’s Tomb” represented Greeks and Persians first as fighting, and then as having made friends. The two nations were easily distinguished, as the Greeks had hardly any garments, while the Persians were fully clothed. The tombs having long been buried in the sand, the vivid colours, and particularly the purple worn by the Persians, had been perfectly preserved, but I understand that, exposed to the light, all soon faded away.
CONSTANTINOPLE
The streets of Constantinople were not nearly so gay as those of Cairo or of many other Eastern towns which I have seen. Things may have altered now, but during our visit hardly any women walked about the city, and the men were mostly dressed in dark European clothes with red fezes, not at all picturesque. At the Sweet Waters, a stream in a valley rather like Richmond, where we drove on Friday afternoon, it was different. The ladies celebrated their Sabbath by driving in shut carriages, or walking about near the water, in gay-coloured mantles, often with parasols to match, and with transparent veils which did not at all conceal their very evident charms.
Sir William White was then Ambassador, and he and his wife were very kind to us. Among other things Lady White invited us to join a party going over to Kadikeui on the Scutari side of the Bosphorus. It was a quaint expedition. The Embassy launch and the French launch each carried guests. The French launch, “mouche” as they called it, started first, but the sea was rapidly rising, and the few minutes which elapsed before we followed meant that the waves were almost dangerous. It was impossible, however, that the British should show the white feather when Franceled the way. Lady Galloway and I sat silent, one or two foreign ladies, Belgians, I think, screamed and ejaculated; the Swedish Minister sat on the prow like a hardy Norseman and encouraged the rest of us, but the Persian Minister wept hot tears, while Lady White stood over him and tried to console him with a lace-trimmed handkerchief and a bottle of eau de Cologne.
Having landed as best we could, Sir Edgar Vincent, Lady Galloway and I drove to Scutari, where we saw the howling dervishes. There was a band of little children who were to lie on the floor for the chief, and specially holy, dervish to walk upon at the conclusion of the howling ceremony. The building where this took place was so hot and crowded that I soon went outside to wait for my companions. Immediately a number of dishevelled inhabitants began to gather round me, but I dispersed them with my one word of Turkish pronounced in a loud and indignant tone. I do not know how it is spelt, but it is pronounced “Haiti” and means “go away.” I make it a point in any fresh country to learn if possible the equivalent for the words “hot water” and “go away.” I suppose as we were not in an hotel I found the Turkish for “hot water” unnecessary, but “go away” is always useful.
Among the people we met in Constantinople was a venerable Pasha called Ahmed Vefyk, who used to govern Brusa and part of Asia Minor, and was noted for his honest energy, and for doing what he thought right irrespective of the Sultan. He talked English well, and his reminiscences were amusing. He told us that fifty-five years previously he had taken thirty-nine days to travel from Paris to Constantinople and then everyone came to see him as a curiosity. He introduced us to his fat wife and to a daughter, and offered to makeall arrangements for us if we would visit his former Government.
THE SELAMLIK
Alas! time did not admit, neither could we wait to dine with the Sultan, though we received messages desiring that we should do so. We were told, however, that the Sultan always wished to retain known visitors in Constantinople, and to effect this would ask them to dine and then keep postponing the date so as to delay their departure. We could not chance this, so were obliged to leave without having seen more of His Majesty than his arrival at the ceremony of the Selamlik—a very pretty sight, but one which has often been described. We were at a window just opposite the Mosque and were edified, among other incidents, by the way in which the ladies of the harem had to perform their devotions. They were driven up in closed carriages, their horses (not themselves) were taken out, and they remained seated in the vehicles for the duration of the service, which lasted about three-quarters of an hour. Imagine Miss Maud Royden left in a taxi outside a church while the ministers officiated within! The Sultan was driven up with brown horses, and drove himself away in another carriage with white ones. I do not know if this had any symbolic significance.
THE ORIENT EXPRESS
We left Constantinople by the Orient Express on the evening of April 14th, and had quite an exciting journey to Vienna, which we reached on the afternoon of the 16th. Sir Edgar Vincent accompanied us, and there was also on the train Captain Waller, a Queen’s Messenger, and these were each bound to have a separate sleeping compartment. There were various passengers of different nationalities, including our maids.
A compartment with four berths had been reserved for Lady Galloway and myself—but when the maidslooked in to arrange it they came back in alarm, announcing that our Damascus foewoman of the revolver and the cigar had installed herself in our compartment and refused to move! Of course Sir Edgar, being Governor of the Imperial Ottoman Bank, was all-powerful and the lady had to give way—but there was another sufferer. Later on a Greek who shared a compartment with a German wanted to fight him; they had to be forcibly separated and the Greek shut up for Tuesday night in the saloon while the German was left in possession—which further reduced the accommodation. When we stopped at Budapest, about midnight, the sister of the Queen of Servia was escorted into the train with flowers and courtesy, but the poor woman had to spend the night in the passage, as the alternatives were sharing the compartment of the revolver woman, who, we were told in the morning, terrified her by barking like a dog, or going into the saloon with the Greek, equally uncomfortable.
These were not all the excitements. Previously, at Sofia, Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria got into the train accompanied by an imposing-looking man who we thought was Stambuloff, the Prime Minister afterwards assassinated. It appeared that Prince Ferdinand’s pastime was to join the train in this way, have hisdéjeuneron board, get out at the frontier, and return to his capital by the next train. It seemed a curious mode of enjoyment, but probably Bulgaria was less lively than it has become since. We heard afterwards that he was annoyed because Sir Edgar and ourselves had not been presented to him, but he might have given a hint had he wished it.
Anyhow, we presently saw some apricot omelettes walking about and asked for some, but were told thatthis was adéjeuner commandéand we could not share it, to which deprivation we resigned ourselves. When the repast was over, however, an American solemnly addressed Sir Edgar saying, “Did you, who were near the royal circle, have any of that asparagus?” (I think it was asparagus—may have been French beans.) “No,” replied Sir Edgar. “Very well then,” said the Yankee; “since you had none I will not protest, but we were refused it, and if you had had any I should certainly have made a row.” It was lucky that we had not shared any of the Princely fare, for there was hardly space for more rows on that train.
At Vienna Lady Galloway and I parted. She went to her relatives at Berlin, and I returned via Cologne and Flushing to England, where I was very glad to rejoin my family after these long wanderings.
We had some very happy parties at Osterley during the succeeding summer. I have already mentioned Mr. Henry James’s description of the place. Our great friend Sir Herbert Maxwell, in his novelSir Lucian Elphin, also adopted it under another name as the background of one of his scenes, and I have quoted Mr. Ashley’s verses written in 1887. I love the place and its memories so dearly that I cannot resist adding the testimony of another friend, Mr. Augustus Hare. He knew it well both in the days of the Duchess of Cleveland and after we had taken up our abode there, and mentions it several times inThe Story of my Life, but he tells, in an account of a visit to us including the Bank Holiday of August 1890, of our last party before we went to Australia. From that I extract a few lines, omitting the over-kindly portraits of ourselves which he was apt to draw of his friends:
“I went to Osterley, which looked bewitching, with its swans floating in sunshine beyond the shade of the old cedars. Those radiant gardens will now bloom through five years unseen, for Lord Jersey has accepted the Governorship of New South Wales, which can only be from a sense of duty, as it is an immense self-sacrifice.“The weather was really hot enough for the luxury of open windows everywhere and for sitting out all day. The party was a most pleasant one. M. de Stael, the Russian Ambassador; Lady Crawford, still lovely as daylight, and her nice daughter Lady Evelyn; Lady Galloway, brimming with cleverness; M. de Montholon, French Minister at Athens; Mr. and Mrs. Frank Parker, most amusing and cheery; Sir Philip Currie, General Feilding, etc. Everything was most unostentatiously sumptuous and most enjoyable. On Monday we were sent in three carriages to Richmond, where we saw Sir Francis Cook’s collection, very curious and worth seeing as it is, but which, if his pictures deserved the names they bear, would be one of the finest collections in the world. Then after a luxurious luncheon at the Star and Garter we went on to Ham House, where Lady Huntingtower showed the curiosities, including all the old dresses kept in a chest in the long gallery. Finally I told the Jersey children—splendid audience—a long story in a glade of the Osterley garden, where the scene might have recalled theDecameron. I was very sorry to leave these kind friends, and to know it would be so long before I saw them again.”
“I went to Osterley, which looked bewitching, with its swans floating in sunshine beyond the shade of the old cedars. Those radiant gardens will now bloom through five years unseen, for Lord Jersey has accepted the Governorship of New South Wales, which can only be from a sense of duty, as it is an immense self-sacrifice.
“The weather was really hot enough for the luxury of open windows everywhere and for sitting out all day. The party was a most pleasant one. M. de Stael, the Russian Ambassador; Lady Crawford, still lovely as daylight, and her nice daughter Lady Evelyn; Lady Galloway, brimming with cleverness; M. de Montholon, French Minister at Athens; Mr. and Mrs. Frank Parker, most amusing and cheery; Sir Philip Currie, General Feilding, etc. Everything was most unostentatiously sumptuous and most enjoyable. On Monday we were sent in three carriages to Richmond, where we saw Sir Francis Cook’s collection, very curious and worth seeing as it is, but which, if his pictures deserved the names they bear, would be one of the finest collections in the world. Then after a luxurious luncheon at the Star and Garter we went on to Ham House, where Lady Huntingtower showed the curiosities, including all the old dresses kept in a chest in the long gallery. Finally I told the Jersey children—splendid audience—a long story in a glade of the Osterley garden, where the scene might have recalled theDecameron. I was very sorry to leave these kind friends, and to know it would be so long before I saw them again.”
OSTERLEY PARK.From a photograph by W. H. Grove.
STORY OF A PICTURE
Sir Francis Cook—Viscount Monserrate in Portugal—had a wonderful collection both of pictures andobjets d’artwhich he was always ready to show to our friends and ourselves. I am not expert enough to know whether all the names attributed to the pictures could be verified, but I can answer for one which we saw on an occasion when we took Lord Rowton over with some others. It was a large circular painting of theAdoration of the Magi by Filippo Lippi. Lord Rowton expressed the greatest interest in seeing it, as he said that Lord Beaconsfield and himself had hesitated greatly whether to utilise the money received forEndymionto purchase this beautiful picture, which was then in the market, or to buy the house in Curzon Street. I should think the decision to buy the house was a wise one under the circumstances, but the picture is a magnificent one. I saw it not long ago at an exhibition of the Burlington Fine Arts Club lent by the son—or grandson—of Sir Francis Cook.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF AUSTRALIA
Mr. Hare’s account of our August Party in 1890 mentions the reason of its being the last for some time. My husband had been already offered the Governorship of Bombay and would have liked it for many reasons, but was obliged to decline as the climate might have been injurious after an attack of typhoid fever from which he had not long recovered. He was then appointed Paymaster-General, an unpaid office which he held for about a year. The principal incident which I recollect in this connection was a lengthened dispute between his Department and the Treasury over a sum of either two pounds or two shillings—I think the latter—which had gone wrong in an expenditure of thirty-five millions. In the end Jersey came to me and triumphantly announced that the Paymaster-General’s Department had been proved to be in the right. How much paper, ink, and Secretary’s time had gone to this conclusion I cannot say. Postage being “On Her Majesty’s Service” would not come into the reckoning.
WAR OFFICE RED TAPE
We had one other experience of pre-war War Office methods, but that was many years later. A rumour arrived in Middleton village that the soldier son of one of our labourers had had his head blown off. As there was no war proceeding at the time, we could not think how this accident had happened, and went to ask the parents where their son was stationed. They had noclear idea, but after a long talk remembered that they had received a photograph of his regiment with the Pyramids in the background. Armed with this information we approached the War Office and ultimately elicited that the poor youth had not lost his head, but had died of fever in Egypt, when arose the question of certain pay due to him. The War Office, with an insatiable thirst for information, would pay nothing until elaborate forms were filled up with the names and addresses of all the brothers and sisters. These proved to be scattered over the face of the Empire, and as the parents could neither read nor write, endless visits to them were necessary before we could find out enough to fill in the forms. Before this was accomplished I had to leave home and one of my daughters took charge.
At last she wrote that the money was really being paid to the old father and would be deposited in the Post Office. Knowing that he was very shaky, I wrote back begging that she would get him to sign a paper naming his heir, but before this was done he suddenly fell down dead, leaving the money in the Post Office, and my daughter corresponded on alternate days with the General Post Office and the War Office before she could get it out. Then some more money was found to be due, and the War Office said they could not pay it until they had certificates from the sexton and the undertaker who had buried the poor old man. I was back by the time these were procured, and lo and behold! one spelt his name Hitchcox and one Hitchcocks. Foreseeing another lengthened correspondence, I enclosed the form with a letter in Jersey’s name vouching for the fact that they referred to the same person but that the villagers spelt the name in two different ways. Fortunately the War Office felt that they were nowsufficiently acquainted with the family biography and paid up. No wonder a plethora of clerks was needed even in pre-war days.
To return to our own affairs. The late Lord Knutsford, then Colonial Secretary, in the summer of 1890 asked my husband if he would accept the Governorship of New South Wales, and he consented. Great stress was laid on our not telling anyone before the Queen had approved, and we were most conscientious, though I do not believe that other people keep such offers equally secret from all their friends and relatives. It was rather inconvenient as we wanted to invite my brother Rupert to accompany us as A.D.C. and he was already committed to another appointment abroad. As soon as the telegram announcing the Queen’s approval arrived, I sent a footman to look for him at two or three addresses saying that he must find Captain Leigh somehow. He brought him back in triumph, having caught him in the street. Lord Ancram and my cousin Harry Cholmondeley were the other A.D.C.s, and George Goschen, now Lord Goschen, Private Secretary.
BALMORAL
Just before we were due to start, the Queen sent for us to Balmoral to say good-bye. We there met amongst others the Duke of Clarence, the only time I ever saw him, and I thought him a singularly gentle, modest young man. Some old gentleman had lately left him a long gold and turquoise chain which had belonged to Marie Antoinette. He told the Queen about it, and, with genuine surprise, said he could not think why it had been left to him. Her Majesty expressed the greatest interest in anything which had belonged to Marie Antoinette, so he ran upstairs and brought it down for his grandmother’s inspection. He talked ofhis voyage to Australia, and said he was sorry that he had been too young to appreciate all he had seen as he should have done. I remember the late Admiral Lord Clanwilliam, who had the supervision of the young Princes when they were on board theBacchante, saying that no boys had ever given him less trouble, and that Prince George (the present King) was equal to boys a year older than himself.
When we went to Australia Lord Hopetoun was already there as Governor of Victoria, and Lord Kintore as Governor of South Australia, while Lord Onslow reigned in New Zealand. These, like Jersey, had all previously been Lords-in-Waiting to the Queen, and Her Majesty said to us, “As soon as I get a nice Lord-in-Waiting Lord Salisbury sends him off to govern a Colony”; to which my husband aptly replied, “You see, Ma’am, how well you brought us up!” A remark rewarded by a gracious smile.
The Queen was indeed more than kind, and was very much upset when our departure was delayed, just when all preparations were made, by my being seized with an attack of typhoid fever. She telegraphed constantly, and when the Court returned to Windsor sent a messenger daily to inquire. We were told that her kind heart led her to imagine that my illness was either caused or intensified by our having been summoned to Balmoral just at the last minute, because she had forgotten that we were starting so soon. Of course it had nothing to do with it, but the Queen was well aware what typhoid fever meant. As she wrote to Jersey, she was “but too well acquainted with this terrible illness not to feel anxious whenever any relations or friends are suffering from it.”
The result was that when I was convalescent Jerseyhad to start alone, and I went with my children to spend Christmas at Stoneleigh, following him in January. Lady Galloway was a true friend, for since our London house was let she took me from Claridge’s Hotel, where I was taken ill, to her house in Upper Grosvenor Street and nursed me there for weeks. Everyone was kind, Lady Northcote offering that I should take possession of her house and have Lady Galloway there to look after me, but in the end I stayed in Upper Grosvenor Street till I could move to Stoneleigh. Christmas at Stoneleigh was an unexpected pleasure, and my parents, brothers, and sisters did all they could to further my convalescence. An addition to the family party was my brother Dudley’s charming new American wife, of whom he was intensely proud. When we greeted them or drank their healths, however, in the course of the festivities he invariably prefaced his words of thanks with “I and my wife” despite the laughing protests of his auditors. On Twelfth Night we drew characters, with the result—perhaps not quite fortuitous—that my eldest girl Margaret and her youngest brother Arthur, aged seven, were Queen and King. Their healths were duly drunk, and Arthur eagerly and emphatically responded, beginning “My wife and I!”
Mrs. Dudley Leigh had been in her girlhood much admired in the Court of Napoleon III and the Empress Eugénie. She was greatly attached to the Empress and was one of the young ladies recorded in Filon’sMemoirsas having helped to cheer the deposed monarchs in the first part of their exile when they resided at Cowes.
Hélène Leigh (then Beckwith) told me that she and her sister often went to spend an evening with theEmpress, who, as is well known, had a leaning towards spiritualism and table-turning. The Emperor disliked the experiments, and on one occasion begged them to stop. Presently he went to bed and then Eugénie determined to resume. The table moved, and rapped out “Janvier.” The Empress asked what the date implied, and the answer came “La Mort.” In the following January the Emperor died. Personally none of these coincidences convince me, as I have known automatic and other prophecies which did not “come off.” The Emperor was very ill and his death must have seemed imminent to many present, but I allow that it is curious that the date as remembered by my sister-in-law should have proved accurate.
FAREWELL TO ENGLAND
At last I was considered well enough to start, and went off accompanied by four children, two governesses and three servants, the rest of the household having preceded us. We had a bitterly cold journey, and Lady Galloway, who joined us in London and went with us across France and Italy, had her work cut out to keep us warm and fed. She then went to stay with some of her friends, having promised to visit us later in Australia.
It was very sad leaving all my family, and particularly my eldest boy Villiers. He had to finish his time at Eton and was then to come to us before going to Oxford. Everyone who has to leave children behind—and, alas! that is the lot of only too many English parents—knows what it means, and I will not dwell upon it.
All our friends were most sympathetic and helpful, and I was particularly touched by Lord Derby’s thoughtfulness. In his first letter on hearing of the appointment he wrote: “You are a queen and an exile. Areyou to be congratulated or condoled with?...” He went on with serious words of encouragement, and a little later took the trouble voluntarily to write out for our use notes on Australia “founded on the reports of many friends and on some experience of C. O.”
Among his very shrewd remarks was:
“Distrust all informants who have been long away; things change rapidly in those parts. And remember that the enriched colonist who comes back with £10,000 a year to live in England does not in the least represent the country in which his money was made.”
“Distrust all informants who have been long away; things change rapidly in those parts. And remember that the enriched colonist who comes back with £10,000 a year to live in England does not in the least represent the country in which his money was made.”
Again he says that the Governor—
“Must spend his whole salary and something over. But it is a mistake to suppose that mere outlay and splendid festivities will conciliate goodwill—though they go a long way towards it. What the colonists really wish and like is that the Governor should appreciate them, mix in their amusements and apparently like to be among them.”
“Must spend his whole salary and something over. But it is a mistake to suppose that mere outlay and splendid festivities will conciliate goodwill—though they go a long way towards it. What the colonists really wish and like is that the Governor should appreciate them, mix in their amusements and apparently like to be among them.”
Fortunately Jersey always liked to be among his fellow-men and understood them, and the Australians soon found that out, and never forgot it. Also Lord Derby truly said:
“The less a Governor interferes directly, the better; if his ministers come to think that he desires so to do, they will tell him nothing; if relieved from this fear, they will be glad enough to profit by his experience and impartiality.”
“The less a Governor interferes directly, the better; if his ministers come to think that he desires so to do, they will tell him nothing; if relieved from this fear, they will be glad enough to profit by his experience and impartiality.”
Many of Lord Derby’s further comments are much to the point, but I only cite one which is somewhat of a forecast:
“Schemes of imperial federation are not treated seriously by anybody, but intercolonial federation isa growing idea, and likely to be worked out, though still much opposed.”
“Schemes of imperial federation are not treated seriously by anybody, but intercolonial federation isa growing idea, and likely to be worked out, though still much opposed.”
During our absence Lord Derby was an excellent correspondent and I may refer to his letters later on.
VOYAGE ON THE “ARCADIA”
We sailed in theArcadia, the same ship which had taken us to India, with the same Captain Andrewes. The usual incidents of a long voyage were not wanting—the natural effect on young men and women was exemplified in the growing attachment of a very clever Australian Professor to our English governess—an attachment which ultimately ripened to a wedding in Australia, when Miss Mason became Mrs. Harry Allen. She is now Lady Allen, and when the Prince of Wales visited Australia she sat at a banquet between H.R.H. and the Governor-General, so our Australian experiences were quite successful as far as she was concerned.
I do not recollect much of the other events on board ship, for I was still not very strong and lived mostly with my children, in a nice large cabin which the P. and O. had arranged for me. There was, however, one couple who excited considerable interest—a youth who always appeared in spotless white and a coloured sash, and a girl who wore white frocks, displaying varied ribbons to match her admirer’s. When we reached Ceylon passengers were forbidden to send any washing ashore, as there was small-pox in Colombo, and the young man went nearly frantic at being unable to refresh his wardrobe. His fellow-passengers cruelly ragged him, and he was reported to have run up and down in front of his cabin with a drawn sword.
I suppose the small-pox was only in the native quarters, for we were allowed to land, to our great joy, had a delightful drive to Mount Lavinia, where we saw the mango trick—not very impressive—had dinnerat the Colombo Hotel, and re-embarked for the longest and dullest part of our voyage. The monotony of the nine days between Ceylon and Australia was relieved in a manner more stirring than pleasant. We were met by a cyclone, and had to go considerably out of our course to avoid its full fury, but what we did encounter was quite bad enough and we were very thankful when we sighted Australia.
We were fortunate during our sojourn in having the old friends whom I previously mentioned, and their wives, as colleagues. Lady Hopetoun and Lady Kintore were away when we landed, having been on a trip home; but Lord Kintore met us at Adelaide and took us up for the day to his beautiful house in the Mountains—Marble Hill—while Lord Hopetoun looked after us with equal hospitality at Melbourne. We only stayed a few hours at each place, as our great object was to reach our destination, which was primarily the Governor’s little country house, Hill View, situated in the hills. Here I spent about a fortnight to rest and revive before going down for the assembling of the Federation Convention at Sydney.
This was a very stirring introduction to Colonial life. (The words “Colony” and “Colonial” are now taboo, but before Federation the present Australian States were called “Colonies,” and “Colonial” was freely used by everyone!)
THE FEDERATION CONVENTION
Delegates from all the States were assembled in Sydney and most of them had brought wives, so it was somewhat confusing to a new-comer to be at once introduced to a number of people, however kindly disposed towards her, whom she had never seen before, in totally novel surroundings. As far as I recollect the initial banquet took place on the evening of myarrival, March 1st, 1891. It was given in the Town Hall, a really fine building in which we afterwards attended endless functions of all descriptions. It was arranged that Lady Innes, wife of Sir George Innes, a judge, should dine alone with me and accompany me to the Gallery to hear the speeches after the banquet. All the guests courteously rose on my arrival; my cousin Harry Cholmondeley escorted me, very magnificent in his A.D.C.’s uniform. As the Cholmondeleys had been in the habit of acting with us at Middleton, I felt very much as if I were taking part in private theatricals.
The principal speeches were made by Jersey and the New South Wales Premier, Sir Henry Parkes, who was the main promotor of Federation. Sir Henry was a remarkable character in his way. He was the son of a small farmer on my grandmother’s property at Stoneleigh, where he attended the village school, and his first pair of breeches was made by the village tailor (the same parish clerk who made me find his places in church). Henry Parkes emigrated to Australia, and a lady there told me how he kept a sort of toy-shop and “fancy repository” where she could take her umbrella to be mended. He became a Member of Parliament and almost an autocrat. He had a fine head, like a shaggy lion, and was a good speaker, though I fear that the education given him in Stoneleigh School had not altogether overcome a certain difficulty with his “h’s,” and in the transaction of business he was somewhat slow in thought. He was, however, undoubtedly able and tenacious, and did a great deal for his growing country. He was a trifle like the German Kaiser in his desire for his city’s progress in art, and had filled the National Park and the Botanic Gardenswith statues and busts more notable for quantity than quality—but the intention was good, though the expenditure was large. I believe that he had originated the motto of the Federation: “One People, One Destiny.”
Jersey’s speech was extremely well received, though his reference to the Union of the Saxon Heptarchy as precursor to that of the Australian States enabled one of the papers to indulge next day in witticisms. It declared that it had greatly perplexed the audience, some thinking that “Heptarchy” was the name of one of His Excellency’s ancestors who had fought at Crécy—others that it was a kind of cake!
THE DELEGATES
Next day began the serious work of the Convention. Delegates were present from the six Australian Colonies; there were also three New Zealanders, including the celebrated Sir George Grey, who held a “watching brief” to see what the Australians were doing, though New Zealand had no intention of federating with the others. She was quite right, for although in those days people were apt to think of New Zealand as part of “Australasia,” she is too far off and too different in origin and natural conditions to form a portion of what is a very distinct continent.
No doubt the most intellectual and probably efficient member of the Convention was the President, Sir Samuel Griffith, Chief Justice of Queensland and afterwards Chief Justice of the High Court of Australia. It is not for me to attempt a summary of the debates and of all the questions to which they gave rise, naturally the most difficult being the relations between the States. No doubt the result ultimately achieved did credit to the statesmanship of many who took part. Probably the weakest point was leaving to the separate Statesevery power not expressly transferred to the Commonwealth; in Canada everything not expressly reserved to the Provinces went to the Dominion, which certainly tends to closer union. However, this is looking a good deal ahead.
One of the points which seemed to add interest, perhaps dignity, to the convention was the great size of the delegates. They averaged over six feet in height, and I really forget how many pounds avoirdupois in weight—but something quite remarkable. Australian legislators were undoubtedly of sturdy growth, and whatever else they favoured had a great predilection for tea. I sometimes attended debates in New South Wales Parliament. My husband was precluded from doing so, but members seemed to think it rather a compliment that I should be present. However exciting the discussion, and whoever the orator, as sure as six o’clock struck a cry of “Tea, tea, tea!” arose from all sides of the house, and out rushed everybody to refresh himself before returning to duty.
The great antagonist to Sir Henry Parkes was Mr., afterwards Sir George, Dibbs. He was an immense man, who had had a varied career, but was generally esteemed for his direct and downright honesty. When in his turn he became head of the Government he was noted as the first Australian-born Premier. When we first arrived in the Colony he was supposed to have Republican tendencies, but these seemed gradually, indeed rapidly, to evaporate. While we were in Australia he paid his first visit to England, where many prominent people, including our family and friends, paid him much attention. The final touch was put by the Prince of Wales (afterwards King Edward), who had discovered his liking for a big cigar, and withunfailing tact he gave him one to smoke. Dibbs said, “No, he should keep it,” whereupon the Prince replied that he was to smoke that, and he would give him another. Of course this got into the Sydney papers, and when the traveller returned the street boys used to shout out, “Geordie, where’s the cigar the Prince of Wales gave you?”
The papers afforded us endless amusement during his trip. They used to come out with heavy headlines. “Dibbs meets one King—several Princes,” etc. “Dibbs visits the Queen,” and on one occasion, mixed up with it all, “Lady Leigh desires that Dibbs should bring out Lord Jersey’s son.”The Bulletinhad a wicked page of drawings caricaturing Parkes’ wrath as he read these items.
Dibbs returned a rabid imperialist. I said to him one day, “I suppose that talk of republicanism was only your fun?” “Only my fun,” was his hasty reply.
The Chief Justice, Sir Frederick Darley, and his delightful wife and family were among our greatest friends. Sir Frederick was a tall, handsome man; his resemblance to my father was often noticed by those who knew them both. Lady Darley was a very cultivated woman, sister to Rolf Boldrewood, author ofRobbery under Arms, whose real name was Thomas Browne.
Lady Darley was great at “spirit-drawing”—a power in which she quite honestly believed. It was curious, but I think instinctive. She would take a pencil between her fingers, and talk and look about the room while the pencil drew shading on a sheet of paper. Ultimately the shading would evolve a large head with no outline but the shadow. Once when in after years the Darleys were staying at Middleton Lady Darleyshowed her powers at my request, and another lady who was among our guests confided to me afterwards that she had produced an exact portrait of a relative long since dead who had held my friend in great affection. I am certain that Lady Darley did not know of this person’s existence—the result must be left between telepathy and imagination! Anyhow, these mystic powers never interfered with Lady Darley’s care for her family and for her duties to the community—she was a real influence for good. She and Sir Frederick have now passed away, but some of their daughters live in England and are still among our friends.
THE BLUE MOUNTAINS
Sir Frederick had built a charming house in the Blue Mountains called Lilianfels after a daughter who had died in youth. It was situated on a high plateau among most romantic scenery—deep ravines and almost inaccessible, thickly wooded valleys. One of these valleys plays a leading part inRobbery under Arms, the bushranging hero Starlight having his lair among the rocks. A railway had been made to this high ground, twisting and turning in extraordinary fashion, tradition said because the engineer wanted to pay constant visits to an innkeeper’s daughter at a house somewhere on the way. Once at Katoomba, beyond which lay Lilianfels, the difficulty for the pedestrian would not be to scale mountains, but to descend into the valleys, and in our time not many people attempted it. Tourists, however, came up to admire the splendid views and the picturesque waterfalls, and to visit the famous Jenolan caves in the same neighbourhood.
The whole formation of the valleys and caves showed that this part of the mountain-range had been in bygone ages cliffs washed by the sea. The Jenolan caves were long labyrinths full of stalactites and stalagmites ofwonderful forms and colours. About two miles had been opened up when we were there, doubtless much more has since become accessible. Some of us climbed down a primitive iron ladder to view a mystical underground river, source unknown. I seized on it with joy for a child’s story which I published later on.
I believe that there is now a fine hotel near the caves, but when we spent a night there we found a very primitive hostelry; and as we were a party of nine, including the Duchess of Buckingham and her cousin Miss Murray, I am afraid we left little accommodation for other arrivals. We were unconscious of the inconvenience to which we were putting them until some time afterwards, when a little publication was sent us anonymously. It appears that a public room which had been allotted to us as a dining-room had been turned into a bedroom for two travellers after we had retired. Now this hotel was strictly Pussyfoot, and my husband, having been warned, had brought his own wine for our Party. He left two bottles in the room, and our successors frankly confessed that they had carried them off in triumph and shared the contents with their companions without saying where they had found them. The writer in the account sent us said that he did not imagine that the Governor knew how he had hampered the other guests and did not suppose that he realised the fate of his wine until he read this account. I must say that we were more amused than annoyed! All this happened long after our landing in the country, but thinking of the Darleys recalls our visit to my memory.
SIR ALFRED STEPHEN
The Chief Justice in each Colony was a great personality, and in due course Sir Frederick became in addition Lieutenant-Governor, succeeding in that officedear old Sir Alfred Stephen, who held it when we arrived. Sir Alfred was a member of the English family which has given so many distinguished luminaries to the Bar, and he worthily upheld their traditions at the Antipodes. He had been in Tasmania before settling in New South Wales, had been twice married, and had had nine children by each wife, nine born in each Colony, and, if I remember rightly, nine sons and nine daughters in all. With sons, daughters, sons-in-law, daughters-in-law, and other relatives his connections played such a prominent part in Sydney society that my A.D.C. brother found it advisable to devote certain pages in the Government House invitation book to “Sir Alfred Stephen’s family,” instead of entering them in the usual alphabetical lists.
Sir Alfred was a delightful and intellectual man with great devotion to philanthropic schemes. On one point only I was disposed to differ from him—namely, he was extremely anxious to facilitate divorce and was much too serious in the matter to see the comic side of some of the American reasons for separation. Quite late in life, after being nearly bald his hair began to grow again, and he proudly called attention to his newly flowing locks.
I cannot name all the Ministers. Some had (much to their credit) risen from quite lowly positions; others like Sir Frank Suttor, belonged to old Australian families—indeed while we were in Australia a child of the sixth generation was born to the Suttors, quite a record in such a young country.
The general rule was while in Sydney the Governor and his wife could only receive private hospitality from the Chief Justice, Lieutenant-Governor, Admiral commanding the Station, and the Anglican and RomanCatholic Primates. Apart from these they could attend any ball or function given by, I think, six joint hosts—as for instance the Squatters’ Ball, a Club dinner, or a Charity Entertainment. It was a wise rule on the whole, as it would have been exceedingly difficult to discriminate among hosts and hostesses without giving offence; and personally I was very glad that the Ministers and their wives should not have been even indirectly called upon to entertain us, as most of them were anything but rich, and yet had one begun the custom others might have felt bound to follow. Up the country it was different—when we visited the different Districts for agricultural shows, opening of school buildings, or general inspections, it was fully recognised that prominent people should receive us, and I cannot say enough of their kindness and hospitality.
Indeed, open-handed hospitality was the rule in Australia, and the squatters and landowners, such as Mr. and Mrs. Osborne, Dr. and Mrs. Hay, and many others of our hosts and friends, seemed never to regard their own convenience if they could make their guests happy.
Among the oldest families was that of Mrs. Macarthur Onslow, whose ancestor had introduced merino sheep into New South Wales, and who was—and is—universally respected in the State.