SEYMOUR FORTESCUEAs Moroni’s Lawyer (National Gallery Collection), Devonshire House Fancy Ball, 1897
SEYMOUR FORTESCUEAs Moroni’s Lawyer (National Gallery Collection), Devonshire House Fancy Ball, 1897
SEYMOUR FORTESCUE
As Moroni’s Lawyer (National Gallery Collection), Devonshire House Fancy Ball, 1897
Later in the year, after Cowes, the Prince and Princess decided to go to Bayreuth, and I was in attendance during the visit; but one visit to Bayreuth is very like another, and as far as I was concerned the only novelty was thatParsifalwas given as well as theRing. In those daysParsifalnever was given except at Bayreuth, but that particular portion of the Wagner Legend has died out, and since then it has been performed both in London and New York. It was the fashion to rave about that opera, but I fancy now that it is no longer sacred to Bayreuth; the public in general have discovered that, fine as it is, theRingandTristanare a very great deal finer. So long asParsifalcould only be given at Bayreuth it was a great attraction to the musical public, and brought a number of people there, who, but for it, would probably not have taken that troublesome journey. This large influx of visitors of course meant money, a commodity the value of which was thoroughly understood and appreciated by “Frau Cosima,” for there was a good deal of the successful “Barnum” about that remarkable old lady, now deceased. After the Bayreuth week, the Princess went on to Copenhagen, and I attended the Prince to Kronberg to enable him to pay a visit to his sister, the late Empress Frederick. The Empress had certainly succeeded in building herself one of the finest modern residences I ever saw, and Kronberg was full of the beautiful things that she had collected, all moreover arranged in excellent taste. After a short visit, the Prince went to Homburg, and I returned to England in time for Doncaster Races.
Early in 1899 I travelled with the late Lord Clarendon, who was at that time Lord Chamberlain, to Coburg, to represent the Prince of Wales at the Silver Wedding of his brother, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, Lord Clarendon having been selected by Queen Victoria for a similar purpose. We spent about a week there, at the Castle, while the fêtes connected with that anniversary were in progress. It was a great pleasure to me to have this opportunity of seeing their Royal Highnesses, who had been so kind to me when on the Mediterranean Station, and talk over our mutual recollections of the numerous cruises of the oldSurprise. The night we arrived we were both invited to dine with the Royal Family, and extremely pleasant it was; but for the rest of the time there were endless Court functions and banquets, and I found living in a small German Court, cheek by jowl with the German Court officials, one of the most disagreeable experiences that I can recollect. However, by pleading that I had acquaintances in the town,—which was not strictly true,—I managed to escape from most of the dreary household luncheons, finding it infinitely preferable to eat by myself at the extremely moderatehotel that was all the town of Coburg could boast of in the shape of a restaurant. Under these circumstances, it was eminently true that the “dinner of herbs” at that very bad inn was better than the “stalled ox” at the Schloss.
But soon more interesting events were to take place, for before the end of the year the South African War had begun. After what was known then as the “black week,” when, in the course of a few days, the British public received news of three very distinct reverses, I came to the conclusion that it was impossible for a man of my age to remain in England if by hook or by crook he could possibly manage to get out to Africa. The only plan I could think of was to try to get there on the Staff, as Naval Aide-de-Camp, on the plea that there was a considerable Naval Brigade being formed to work a battery of 4·7 guns to emulate what had already been achieved by their comrades in Natal. I applied to the Prince for aid, and, as usual, not in vain, for, when Field-Marshal Lord Roberts was appointed to be Commander-in-Chief in South Africa, through His Royal Highness’ kind offices the Field-Marshal allowed me to be appointed as Naval Aide-de-Camp on the Headquarter Staff. As it turned out, my duties consisted in doing pretty much the same work as the other Aides-de-Camp, the bulk of which was deciphering and enciphering telegrams; for though when on the march I kept as much in touch with what was called the “Cow-Gun Brigade” (the name being, of course, derived from the team of eighteen bullocks that dragged the guns along), I never could discover that they werein want of anything except ammunition, the fact being, I suppose, that if any particular article was lacking they immediately proceeded to try to annex it, and in general they succeeded, much to the delight of the Quarter-Master-General, who told me that they formed the only unit that never gave him any trouble.
Apropos of the “black week,” long after I had returned from South Africa, one of Queen Victoria’s gentlemen told me an interesting story on the subject. When the bad news arrived, Queen Victoria,—though she had much too fine, and well-trained a sense of proportion to feel in the least nervous,—thought that nevertheless she would like to consult some Military Authority who had a knowledge of South Africa. Accordingly, the late Sir Evelyn Wood was summoned to Balmoral. When he presented himself he was addressed somewhat as follows:—
“Sir Evelyn, I have sent for you to consult you about the campaign in South Africa, but, mind, I will have no croakers here.” I have always thought that there was something deliciously Elizabethan about this prefatory remark. All this is, I fear, a digression; but to revert to the end of 1899,—the main point for me was to get out to South Africa somehow, and that I succeeded in doing.
Lord Roberts sailed with his Staff on board the mail steamer just before Christmas, calling at Gibraltar on the 26th of December to pick up Lord Kitchener, who had been brought there direct from Egypt in a cruiser. He duly arrived on board on that date, accompanied byhis two Aides-de-Camp, Lieutenant Walter Cowan, R.N., and Captain James Watson. Cowan is now Rear-Admiral Sir Walter, having done excellent work during the late war, and indeed after it, in the Baltic, while Jimmy Watson has made a career for himself in Egypt, where, amongst other things, he was on the personal Staff of the late Khedive, and I fancy still rejoices in the rank of Watson Pasha. Both of these best of good fellows became friends of mine, and I am glad to say we still occasionally meet.
Next to my Chief and Lord Kitchener, the man who gave me the greatest impression of outstanding ability was the late Colonel Henderson. He was, I think, appointed to the Commander-in-Chief’s Staff as Head Intelligence Officer, and a better appointment never was made. He was a really scientific soldier in the fullest sense of the word; as a literary man he had written one of the very best military books ever printed in hisLife of Stonewall Jackson; as a lecturer at the Staff College he had delivered some most interesting and instructive lectures on military subjects,—indeed so clear and well-written were they that, when published, even a sailor like myself could understand and appreciate them. Moreover, he was a most charming companion, and always ready (if asked) to give others the benefit of his great erudition. Unfortunately, even then his health was failing. So ill was he that in a very short time he had to give up riding and take to a Cape cart, and, sad to relate, before the campaign was ended he had been invalided home to England, and died a year or two after his return. He was very kindto me, and,—perhaps because he was a great admirer of my brother John’sHistory of the Army,—he often gave me of his best in conversation. It used to be my delight on board the steamer to get hold of him after dinner and induce him to talk.
There was a considerable sprinkling of Germans and Dutchmen among the passengers, most of whom were probably spies; but any designs they might have entertained of making some sort of raid on the Chief’s day-cabin in the hopes of getting hold of his papers, was frustrated by the fact that we had a gunboat’s crew on board, going out to relieve men whose time had expired on some small craft on the South African Station. These men were at once made use of as sentries, and so we were able to post a permanent sentry on Lord Roberts’ cabin door, as well as permanent orderlies, to be at his beck and call.
The voyage out was quite uneventful, and our steamer duly arrived at Cape Town on January 10th. The Commander-in-Chief took up his quarters in a very decent little house that had been reserved for him, and I personally settled down close by at the Mount Nelson Hotel. There was not much for the Aides-de-Camp to do while there, for the real work of the Headquarter Staff was the preparation for the advance to Bloemfontein, the entire transport service being reorganised and increased by Lord Kitchener. A few days after our arrival I was sent down to Simon’s Bay to inquire into some complaints that had been lodged by the Boer prisoners who were confined on board a transport that was anchored there. Thecomplaints were absolutely frivolous and hardly worth inquiring into, but were rather amusing as giving an insight into the character of that curious creature whom the British Tommy invariably talked of as “Brother Boer.” Their principal grievance was that they were overcrowded. On inquiry I found out that the transport in question had brought 1200 British troops from England, and whenever it was the least rough all the lower main-deck ports had to be closed, and naturally the ship was under a full head of steam all the time she was making her passage through the tropics. Probably under those conditions the heat and want of air was very trying, but war is war, and discomforts must be expected. The Boer prisoners on board numbered only 440; every sort of ventilation could be freely opened while the ship swung round her anchors, and of course no steam was up. So I explained to the Boer officer who was the spokesman that what was good enough for 1200 British troops at sea was luxury for a handful of prisoners in harbour. He was a decent fellow, and agreed with me that there was no real cause for complaint, but went on to say that Boers were accustomed to the freedom of the veldt and felt the confinement very keenly. It then devolved on me to explain that our prisoners at Pretoria, living behind barbed wire, were also, not exactly, having the time of their lives. This seemed to come quite as a revelation to him, and of course I reported that they had nothing whatever to complain of, and the matter dropped.
I had one or two more trips over to Simon’s Bay to report on the 4·7 guns that were being fitted out thereas a battery of mobile siege guns, to be used in the field, and manned by the Naval Brigade.
Another little suburban trip I made was to Stellenbosch. (The name later became, used as a verb, a polite form of speech for denoting the fact that some unfortunate official had proved incompetent, and had to be got rid of.) When I went there it boasted of a large remount establishment, the animals being mostly Argentine cobs and Cape ponies. I succeeded in getting hold of two very useful ones, the Cape pony in particular turning out to be a treasure. I had accompanied Lord Kitchener and some of his Staff, who were, I expect, inspecting the establishment from the point of view of transport.
Altogether we were just about two months at Cape Town, and very weary we all were of the place and right glad when the orders came at last to go to the front! The pleasantest incidents in the life there was the constant meeting of all sorts of old friends, who generally turned up for dinner at Groote-Schurr, which, at that time, had been lent by Mr. Cecil Rhodes to Lady Edward Cecil and Lady Charles Bentinck, who were very busy at war work in the town close at hand. Then every day fresh arrivals turned up from England; my cousin, Lady Bagot, (then Mrs. Joycelyn Bagot), and Lady Henry Bentinck had come out to look after the Portland Hospital; the present Lord Derby, then Lord Stanley, arrived on the scene as Press Censor,—and all one’s friends that came down from the front, either wounded or for a few days’ leave, generally turned up at Groote-Schurr, where open house was kept byCecil Rhodes for his temporary tenants and their friends.
The only other work we Aides-de-Camp had was to cipher and decipher the telegrams that poured in all day, which were not finally disposed of until nearly midnight, and two of us were generally on duty with the Chief when he was inspecting or going for a constitutional ride in the cool of the evening.
But on the 6th of February our stay at Cape Town came to an end, and the Headquarter Staff left by train for the Modder, and then events succeeded each other pretty quickly. On the 11th Lord Roberts’ flank march began. As concerned the Headquarter Staff, we moved first to Ramdam, and by the 15th were at Jacobsdaal, where we received the good news that French had relieved Kimberley. On the 17th, Cronje was held up at Paardeberg, and on the 19th Lord Roberts and his Staff arrived there.
I am not going into details about the action at Paardeberg. After what we have experienced lately, I suppose no soldier, nowadays, would do otherwise than agree that it would have been worth while, even at the expense of a considerable quantity of casualties, to have bundled Cronje out of his laager without further delay. Even if a good many men might have been sacrificed in such an assault, they would have been few compared to those who perished later of the germs of typhoid probably picked up during that ten days’ wait at Paardeberg. The river being full of dead animals, the water the men were drinking was poisonous. Now, the British soldier is a thirsty animal (and,indeed, as far as the infantryman is concerned, he has every right to be, when, as in Africa, he was carrying a heavy kit under a burning sun and enveloped in clouds of dust). The result was that the men were, more than probably, absorbing typhoid germs during the whole of their stay there.
When the Headquarter Staff arrived there on the 19th there were rumours of an immediate surrender. There must have been further parleys of which I knew nothing, for a few days later I was sent under a white flag to the Boers’ laager with a letter addressed to the Boer Commandant. After I had crossed the drift held by the Boers, I was received by them with perfect civility, and duly delivered my letter, to which, apparently, there was no answer, as I did not bring one back, but I remember well the difficulty I had in getting my horse to cross and recross, so piled up was the river at this fording-place with dead and putrefying animals. A very few days later, on February 27th, I was riding in the same direction again, this time to accompany one of the Generals on the Headquarter Staff, Prettyman by name, who was sent out by the Chief to bring Cronje in. I suppose it was on the strength of this casual acquaintance that Cronje, after his surrender, very much to my disgust, elected to annex my own particular shelter in the Camp, for the use of himself and his old wife, who was the living image of the late Dan Leno when made up for the Christmas pantomime; but it was only for a short time, as he and his 4000 fellow-prisoners were sent down to the Cape next day, most of themen routefor St. Helena.
The next day we had the news of the relief of Ladysmith, on the anniversary of our defeat at Majuba Hill, with all the disgraceful memories of the peace that had been patched up after it. Now at last the disgrace had been wiped out. Well might the Boers say that, after Paardeberg and Ladysmith, we had robbed them even of their Majuba Day.
We were soon on the move after Cronje’s surrender, and by the 12th of March had occupied Bloemfontein. We met with but few difficulties on the road, the only serious trouble being to keep supplies going, and ensure a sufficiency of water. There was one not inconsiderable action on the way, which was fought at Dreifontein, and I was lucky enough to see rather more of it than usual. I had been sent on to select some quarters for the Chief, if there happened to be any available, and had succeeded in finding quite a decent farm, for the moment occupied by our wounded, which would answer the purpose; so my job being completed, and the rest of the Headquarter Staff being many hours behind, I went on with some of my friends among the special correspondents to watch the fighting. I remember that Mr. Gwynne (then, I think, the special correspondent of Reuter, now the well-known editor of theMorning Post) and I settled ourselves down on the top of a very comfortable little kopje, at a convenient distance on the flank of our advance, and watched some of the infantry of the Sixth Division take the Boer position. The Boers were holding a line of kopjes within easy view from where we were ensconced, and were keeping up a hot fire on our advancing troops—who were attackingin the most orthodox way in short rushes, and making use of all the cover available. When our troops had fought their way close up to the Boer line we distinctly saw a Boer show himself on the sky-line with his arms up in an obvious attitude of surrender. The attacking force, thinking that it was all over, at once showed themselves, and were received by a heavy volley at close range, which killed and wounded a number of them; the rest, without a pause, rushed on, and in a few minutes the position was captured. As always, the British soldier showed the greatest magnanimity, and instead of bayoneting the Boers, as they had a perfect right to do for what certainly appeared to be a distinct act of treachery, they contented themselves with making prisoners of all those who had not succeeded in bolting off on their ponies. The little action at Dreifontein was a very considerable success, and might have been an important one, were it not that, as usual, the underfed and overworked cavalry horses were so exhausted that a pursuit was rendered impossible.
Two days later, on March 13th, Lord Roberts entered Bloemfontein. During the early morning of that day I had been sent forward to see if I could find some halting-place where the Headquarter Staff could breakfast, and was fortunate enough to find a very comfortable farm for that purpose, which, as it turned out, belonged to a brother-in-law of Steyn’s. The lady of the house, who was quite a nice woman, received us very amiably, but told us that the Boers never expected we should have left the river and marched in the way we did, as they were persuaded that the route we took wouldresult in the army inevitably perishing of thirst, so waterless was that bit of country. I expect the margin was narrow, but events justified the selection made, and all was well. Just as the Headquarter Staff rode into the town, a column arrived, so Lord Roberts and his Staff halted and pulled out of the way to allow the Grenadier Guards to march in. It was a magnificent sight. The men, after a terrific march, caked with dust, parched with thirst, and literally in rags, swung past their Chief with their heads erect, and all the air of conquerors. For the moment all fatigue seemed to have left them, and they marched as if they were returning to their barracks after an hour’s exercise in Hyde Park.
Bloemfontein for the first week or so was quite a pleasant change after about six weeks on the march through a very thirsty country. We began by being billeted in the sort of Government House usually occupied by Steyn and his family. It was quite a good and well-built house, and four of us occupied a large room on the second floor, which we believed to be Mrs. Steyn’s bedroom. I remember we came to the conclusion that the lady in question must have been somewhat primitive in her toilet arrangements, for nothing in the shape of washing utensils were to be seen; such a thing as a bath, for instance, was obviously non-existent, and indeed there was not even a water-tap above the ground floor. However, my room-mates and myself, who all happened to be old friends, settled down very comfortably. They were Lord Dudley and his brother, Jack Ward (the present Sir John Ward), andLord Stanley, who was still doing duty as Press Censor. A short time afterwards, when Colonel Neville Chamberlain gave up his post as Private Secretary to the Commander-in-Chief, Stanley succeeded him, and later accompanied the Chief home. I was unlucky enough to have taken rather a bad chill after a very soaking night at Paardeberg, and though I managed to stick it out until our arrival at Bloemfontein, I had to lay up for a few days with a good deal of fever, so being the invalid of the party I was allotted the only bed, the rest of my comrades sleeping more or less on the floor. There being nothing particular to do for the moment, the doctor thought I might just as well get a little change and rest, so as soon as I had got rid of my little feverish attack I went down to Cape Town for a week, partly for change of air, and principally to buy stores for the Headquarter Mess. The railway was running through to the Cape all right, the only trouble being that the Boers had blown up the big railway bridge at Norval’s Pont, so on my way down I had to cross the river in a boat.
Nothing in South Africa impressed me so greatly as the efficiency of the Railway Corps. I crossed the Orange River three times in three months, the first time, as above mentioned, in a boat, the second time, a week later, in a train over a temporary bridge, and three months afterwards in a train running over the permanent bridge that is there to this day. During the whole of the advance to Pretoria, when marching along the line, the Railway Engineers succeeded in keeping pace with the Army on the march, bringing up notonly their repairing plant, but stores for the Army as well. Though we, who were riding close to the railway line, could see all the rails standing on-end, twisted like corkscrews for miles ahead of us, and though the ponts which crossed the innumerable spruits were one and all blown up, the trains succeeded in keeping up with the troops; and even the bridge over the Valsch River at Kroonstadt, which is a real river, only delayed them for a few days. In fact, the ordinary wreckage of war is repaired almost as quickly as it is created.
I spent a pleasant week at Groote-Schurr. Cecil Rhodes had returned there after the relief of Kimberley; his brother Frankie, still looking very thin after the privations of the Ladysmith siege, was taking a brief holiday in his brother’s house. Alas! he also is no longer with us. He was one of my oldest friends, for I had known him since my young days, when hunting from Grantham. He was the kindest of men, and those of the beleaguered garrison of Ladysmith, who knew him during the siege, were always full of stories of his generosity and unselfishness. Ian Hamilton, now General Sir Ian, was another Ladysmith man who came there for a few days’ fattening-up, Billy Lambton, then a Captain in the Coldstream Guards (now General Sir William), was also a guest, during his recovery from a severe shell-wound in the knee received at Magersfontein; whilst the two ladies—Lady Edward Cecil and Lady Charles Bentinck—were still doing their work at Cape Town, with Groote-Schurr for their headquarters.
When my week’s leave had expired, four of us tookthe train back to Bloemfontein, but I may as well quote an old letter I wrote home at the time to describe my journey.
“We started up a party of four, the two Groote-Schurr ladies, Artie Stanley, and myself. We had two very comfortable carriages, one for the ladies and one for the men, and no end of provisions and champagne provided for us by our kind host. It was all very cheery as far as Norval’s Pont, where the railway authorities succeeded in getting our train bodily over the temporary bridge that spanned the Orange River. At Norval’s Pont they had just had the news of Broadwood’s disaster at Sanna’s Post, and the funks had rather set in on the line. Admiral Maxse had telegraphed to his daughter (Lady Edward Cecil) forbidding her to come up any further, and Artie Stanley also received a telegram telling him that no civilians were to go on, so all my pleasant companions were bundled out of the train and their places taken by various officers. After a very long delay we got off, and in the middle of the night, at one of the stations, we were all wakened up and ordered to have rifles ready, for the Boers were said to be on the line somewhere. However, it turned out to be only a scare, and as I did not possess a rifle it did not concern me, and eventually in due course, without any further disturbance, the train arrived here. Next day all was peace again, so telegrams were sent to the ladies to say that they might come up, which they promptly did. The day after the panic season set in again, and they were packed off back again to the base. When I got back I found that all the Staff, except the Chief’s own particular little lot, had been shot out of Government House, so, greatly to our comfort, Eddy Stanley, Dudley, Bend d’Or (the Duke of Westminster) and I, find ourselves lodged on the ground floor of a very decent house belonging to one Fischer, a prominent Boer statesman, who has bolted.”
“We started up a party of four, the two Groote-Schurr ladies, Artie Stanley, and myself. We had two very comfortable carriages, one for the ladies and one for the men, and no end of provisions and champagne provided for us by our kind host. It was all very cheery as far as Norval’s Pont, where the railway authorities succeeded in getting our train bodily over the temporary bridge that spanned the Orange River. At Norval’s Pont they had just had the news of Broadwood’s disaster at Sanna’s Post, and the funks had rather set in on the line. Admiral Maxse had telegraphed to his daughter (Lady Edward Cecil) forbidding her to come up any further, and Artie Stanley also received a telegram telling him that no civilians were to go on, so all my pleasant companions were bundled out of the train and their places taken by various officers. After a very long delay we got off, and in the middle of the night, at one of the stations, we were all wakened up and ordered to have rifles ready, for the Boers were said to be on the line somewhere. However, it turned out to be only a scare, and as I did not possess a rifle it did not concern me, and eventually in due course, without any further disturbance, the train arrived here. Next day all was peace again, so telegrams were sent to the ladies to say that they might come up, which they promptly did. The day after the panic season set in again, and they were packed off back again to the base. When I got back I found that all the Staff, except the Chief’s own particular little lot, had been shot out of Government House, so, greatly to our comfort, Eddy Stanley, Dudley, Bend d’Or (the Duke of Westminster) and I, find ourselves lodged on the ground floor of a very decent house belonging to one Fischer, a prominent Boer statesman, who has bolted.”
The next fortnight at Bloemfontein was very dull and uneventful, and, moreover, rather depressing with the knowledge, that hard work and bad water were, between them, responsible for about 1500 enteric casesin the Bloemfontein hospitals. The daily round was monotonous enough. At seven every morning I was in the saddle, and generally went round to see the Naval Brigade, who had made themselves and their cow-guns extremely comfortable at the top of a neighbouring kopje, but as they never were in need of anything, my visits were of the perfunctory order. Later in the day, I took my turn with the other Aides-de-Camp to ride in attendance on the Chief, and work away at the usual deciphering and enciphering business. But our little home, thanks to the fact that one of its leading inhabitants, Lord Stanley, was Press Censor, was, I verily believe, the “hub” of Bloemfontein. Thither all the Press correspondents, some eighty in number and locally known as “Stanley’s Light Horse,” used to repair to get their perpetual messages censored, and (low be it spoken!) when news was scanty, as it very often was during the long halt at Bloemfontein, to try and pick up a few crumbs from us. Between us, we generally could produce the latest camp stories, and when there was nothing better, those very unveracious statements had to serve. The “Specials” had amongst their ranks a number of very clever people, to say nothing of at least one very distinguished man in the person of Mr. Rudyard Kipling, whose acquaintance I made then for the first time. Amongst the veterans were Mr. Bennett Burleigh and Mr. Melton Prior, both old acquaintances of mine, whose names had been known for years all over the Empire, whilst amongst the younger men were Messrs. Gwynne, Perceval Landon, and Prevost Battersby,—the latter Ihad got to know well on the voyage out, we having been fellow-passengers in the same steamer.
It very soon was deemed necessary to start a newspaper, and theFriendwas produced to supply the want, under the auspices of Rudyard Kipling, Perceval Landon, and Gwynne,—a veritable galaxy of talent. It was only the other day that Mr. Kipling and I were talking over old Bloemfontein days, and he gave me a delightful account of how he and his coadjutors, having a good deal of space at their disposal, filled it up with advertisements stating that certain little shops in the town could provide every sort of luxury. Most of these said luxuries were purely imaginary and probably have not even penetrated to Bloemfontein to this day, and he went on to describe the rage of the crowds of customers who had at once swarmed into the town thinking to do their shopping!
Towards the end of April, Dudley and I got a few days’ leave from our Chief to accompany a flying column that was going to Taban-Tchu under the command of Ian Hamilton. We loaded up a Cape cart with provisions and once more started on the trek. And a delightful change it was to be on the veldt again after living for so long in that rather poisonous little town! The objective of the expedition was, I believe, that of a rounding-up movement designed to surround the Boer forces, who were said to be moving to the northward somewhere in that neighbourhood. Unfortunately, the Boers were too quick for us, and there was no apparent result, and with the exception of some desultory skirmishing on the outskirts ofTaban-Tchu and Israel Port, the column to which we had attached ourselves had but little fighting to do. Viewed as a pleasure trip it was very agreeable, as the climate was perfection and, to us, it was all new country.
By the end of the week I was back at Bloemfontein again, but this time only for a very few days, as the long, weary period of waiting there had come to an end, and on May 3rd Lord Roberts, with the Headquarter Staff, went by train to Karri Siding, to assume direct command of the Army that was now on the march to Pretoria. It is not my intention to describe Lord Roberts’ march to Pretoria, except from the point of view of a spectator. Very little fighting took place, but it struck me that the Boers were distinctly clever. They wasted a great many days for us by repeatedly putting up a show that was just big enough to force our invading army to deploy, and the loss of time involved made a very considerable hole in the short winter days of May and June.
By the 12th of May Kroonstadt had been occupied; the Boers had, of course, destroyed the railway bridge that crosses the Valsch River, and it took our railway engineers the best part of a week to span that very fair-sized stream with a temporary bridge that could carry the train. By the 22nd we were on the move again to the northward, and on the 27th the Main Army crossed the Vaal River at Vereeniging, and the invasion of the Transvaal had definitely begun. On the 31st May Johannesburg was captured. I am again quoting from a letter which I wrote home at the time.
“It was rather fun riding into Johannesburg, but really anything like the villainous faces of the crowd I have never seen. All the Boers, and most of the Dutch and English, had either cleared out or been cleared out. There was nothing left but a mob of low-class foreign Jews, most of them Germans. Never have I seen such brutes, and my first feeling was one of intense regret that the Boers had not exploded the mines and blown up the entire population at the same time.”
“It was rather fun riding into Johannesburg, but really anything like the villainous faces of the crowd I have never seen. All the Boers, and most of the Dutch and English, had either cleared out or been cleared out. There was nothing left but a mob of low-class foreign Jews, most of them Germans. Never have I seen such brutes, and my first feeling was one of intense regret that the Boers had not exploded the mines and blown up the entire population at the same time.”
A little less than a week later (June 5th, 1900) Pretoria was reached and was entered by the Commander-in-Chief after a very trifling opposition. The central column, with which the Headquarter Staff moved, had done the 300 miles—that is the distance from Bloemfontein to Pretoria—in thirty-four days, which was good going. The flank columns had even a harder time. Ian Hamilton started three days earlier from Taban-Tchu with his column, and marched 380 miles, having only had eight days’ halt during the whole thirty-seven days. The night we arrived at Pretoria a most amusing dinner was organised by Lord Rosslyn to celebrate the occasion, and I suppose also to commemorate his personal release from captivity, for he had been for some time a prisoner of war at Pretoria. It was immense fun, every one being in the highest spirits. The dinner took place at the hotel, and the company consisted more or less of junior officers from every branch of the Service, released prisoners, and a number of special correspondents; and I, having managed to commandeer a bedroom on the premises, did my dinner party very comfortably.
Life on the Headquarter Staff at Pretoria was very much on the model of Bloemfontein, with even moretelegrams to cope with, but the monotony was broken by the two days’ indecisive action at Diamond Hill—a position that Botha had occupied about sixteen miles from the capital, which was, so long as there was a decent-sized Boer Army there, a distinct menace to Pretoria. The action began early on June 11th, and fighting went on during that and the ensuing day. It was successful in that the Boers retreated and left us in possession of their position, but was quite indecisive, as there was no pursuit, and for more than a month Botha’s commandos were giving us trouble in the neighbourhood of the battlefield.
Personally, I was a heavy loser in the action of Diamond Hill, for my next brother, Lionel, then second in command of the 17th Lancers, was shot dead by a bullet through the heart when in command of a squadron of that regiment. He and a subaltern of his, Lieut. Charles Cavendish, a son of the late Lord Chesham, and the late Lord Airlie, commanding the 9th Lancers, all fell there and were buried together on the field.
A few days after the action of Diamond Hill I was in attendance on the Chief on rather an interesting occasion, namely when he rode out to meet Baden-Powell, who arrived at Pretoria just about a month after the relief of Mafeking. A few days afterwards I went by train to Johannesburg, partly on a shopping expedition and partly to see a great friend of mine, Bobby White, who was about to start a syndicate there to finance the tramways. My travelling companions were two of the ladies who had arrived with Baden-Powell from Mafeking—Lady Sarah Wilson and Mrs. Godley, both of whom had been through the siege there and were on their way home to England, whither I was, before very long, to follow them.
After two days at Johannesburg I was back again at Pretoria; but my time in Pretoria was rapidly drawing to an end. The Naval Brigade had left the vicinity of Headquarters, so I had no excuse in the way of looking after their wants, as they were far out of my reach. Life at Pretoria was more dull than words can describe, the only duty being the eternal ciphering, which I came to the conclusion could be done just as well by the numerous subalterns on Lord Roberts’ Staff as by an officer of my standing. I consequently decided, as there was nothing to do, that I might just as well return to my duties on the Staff of the Prince of Wales. Early in July I left Pretoria for Cape Town, and arrived in England at the end of the month.
Africa had been an interesting experience, especially the long marches from the Modder to Pretoria, and my time there was, as long as we were on the move, really delightful. There is something extraordinarily attractive about the high veldt; the air is as exhilarating as champagne, and the endless rolling plain without a boundary to be seen has a charm which it is not easy to describe; and though the sun may be occasionally too fierce, and the cold at nights rather too severe after the heat, it is none the less a marvellous climate, and, barring the want of water, it is an ideal place for campaigning. Moreover, the greater part of the timeI was living with some of my best friends, and, for a sailor, it was a new experience to see a large British Army doing its job. Besides my old friends, I made the acquaintance of many new ones, several of whose names have since become household words during the late war. To say nothing of such celebrities as Lords Roberts and Kitchener, there were Douglas Haig (or rather Lord Haig as he is now), General Lord Rawlinson, Admiral Sir Walter Cowan, all of whom were Staff Officers in those days; and looking over some old letters, written out there, I can congratulate myself on the prescience which led me to prophesy that the then Major Douglas Haig was sure to make a name for himself in the future. The only fly in the ointment was that, by going abroad, I had missed a very interesting treble event, namely Ambush winning the Grand National, and Diamond Jubilee securing the Two Thousand Guineas and Derby for the Prince; but it does not need much philosophy to grasp the fact that a man cannot be in two places at once, and good fun as it is to back winners, it was far more satisfactory to have had the privilege of seeing the most interesting part of the South African War from the vantage point of the Headquarter Staff.
I had arrived in England in time for the Cowes Season, and was again in waiting in October in attendance on the Prince during a short visit he paid to Queen Victoria at Balmoral, on his way to Mar Lodge. I had, of course, been presented to the Queen before, but on this occasion, being an officer just returned from the Front, Her Majesty was particularly gracious, giving me her hand to kiss, and sending for me after dinner for a few minutes’ conversation. It was the very last time that I was ever to see her, for a few months later she was laid to her rest at Windsor.
Mar Lodge is a delightful place, about twenty miles or so higher up the Deeside than Balmoral, and in those days it had only recently taken the place of the old Mar Lodge standing the other side of the river. The fire that destroyed the old lodge really must have been a blessing in disguise for the late Duke of Fife, for, (however pleasant its associations may have been,) it was badly situated, and its destruction gave him the excuse for building the present house, which is certainly one of the most comfortable residences in the North of Scotland. In those high latitudes it is everything to have the house the right side of the river,—that isto say on the north side, with the consequent south aspect,—and the new Mar Lodge was ideally situated in that respect, fairly near the river, with a lovely view from its windows. Beautiful as are the surroundings of Balmoral, the castle none the less suffers from being on the south side of the Dee; there being considerable want of sunshine there in the shorter days of October.
The Prince had some good deer-driving at Mar, and another enjoyable amusement provided for the guests was a well-laid-out little golf-course. The Duke and his family were all keen golfers.
Another Deeside shooting lodge that was occasionally visited by the Prince was Glenmuick, which stands about half-way between Balmoral and Ballater. The existing house was built by the first Baronet, the then well-known Mackenzie of Kintail. The present baronet is an officer in the Grenadier Guards, a grandson of the old laird to whom I am alluding. The original Laird of Glenmuick was a great character. Starting in life as a small tradesman in Aberdeen, he had succeeded in making a large fortune, and became a popular person in Society, for he owned a few race-horses, was full of Scotch stories, and, moreover, played a very good game of whist. Glenmuick was a delightful place, for there is not only a good deer forest, where I have had some first-rate stalking, but there is also a very fair grouse moor. But the house itself could hardly be said to be a success. I always believed that its situation was selected rather with the view of impressing the good people of Ballater with the importance of its owner, than to provide a comfortablehome for himself and his guests. As far as I could see during my stay there, the only room that sunshine ever reached was the kitchen. None the less, it was a most amusing house to stay in, and the all-round sport was excellent.
There is nothing of any importance for me to relate until the new year of 1901. On the 20th of January Queen Victoria brought her long reign to an end, and died at Osborne, and my master came to the throne as King Edward VII. I was not in personal attendance on him at the time, but there was so much to do that his entire Staff was mobilised. Of course, representatives from all over the world flocked to London for the funeral, and I found myself detailed to look after the Russian and Greek suites that had come over in attendance on the Grand Duke Michael and the King of the Hellenes, the respective representatives of those two countries. There was great difficulty in housing this enormous influx of guests, but the late Mr. Larnach was one of those who came to the assistance of the Court Officials, by placing his fine house in Carlton House Gardens at their disposal, and I consequently took up my abode there, to look after the Russian and Greek gentlemen.
On the day of the funeral the party to which I was attached met the funeral cortège at Windsor, and I was consequently at the station there when a slight contretemps happened that attracted a good deal of attention at the time. The horses of the Horse Artillery team which were harnessed to the gun-carriage that was used as a bier, had become restivefrom their long wait in the cold, and began to plunge about to such an extent that the coffin seemed to be in danger of being displaced. There was a Guard of Honour of bluejackets posted at the station, and Prince Louis of Battenberg, who was with them, quickly grasped the situation. The horses were taken out, the bluejackets manned the traces, and the last stage of the late Queen’s long journey from Osborne to Windsor was done in charge of the Royal Navy, to their great pride and satisfaction, and, naturally, to the infinite disappointment of the Royal Horse Artillery.
During the year of mourning that followed there was not much of interest for me to record; but in the late autumn King Edward was in residence for the first time as the owner of Balmoral. Naturally, His Majesty was not entertaining a party there, so there was not much official work to do, consequently on most days when there was not a deer drive, Harry Stonor, (who was on duty there as Groom-in-Waiting), and I, were sent on the hill to stalk, and very fine sport we had. I think between us, in something like ten days, we had twenty-five stags to our credit.
The year 1902 was a very busy one. In March I was in attendance on their Majesties, when they visited Dartmouth to lay the foundation-stone of the College there that took the place of the oldBritannia. The change was all for the better, as the old ship was far from healthy even in my time, and age was not likely to improve her sanitary condition. From Dartmouth the Royal party went on to Plymouth, and passed the night on board theVictoria and Albert, where a largedinner party was entertained, consisting not only of the principal Naval Officials belonging to the port, but also of the Admiral and Captains of a Japanese Squadron that was there at the time. On the following day Queen Alexandra launched H.M.S.Queen, with the usual ceremonial, and the King laid the first plate of a new battleship, theKing Edward.
About two months later I was spending a Sunday at the White Lodge, Richmond Park, with one of my oldest friends, Mrs. Hartmann, to whom the lodge had been lent by the King. At luncheon time she announced to her guests that the King was motoring down for tea, and at tea-time he duly arrived. We were all assembled out in the garden, and I was sure from his manner that there was some news in store for us. We had not long to wait, as without any waste of words he informed us that what he was about to tell us would be known to the world next morning, and that was, that the conditions of peace had been signed at Vereeniging, which virtually meant that the long and tiresome South African War had come to an end. For many years past, even people quite unaddicted to business in the City, had been gambling in South African shares, much, I suppose, to the delight of the South African Jews, who had invaded London and taken up their abode there. It seemed the obvious thing that, peace being signed, South Africans would go up, and I fancy a good many of us went up to London early next morning to get the first of the market. The obvious rarely happens in real life, and, as far as I can remember, the shares that were expected to riseall fell, and the small punters, as usual, lost their money.
In June the Coronation that had been arranged for the 24th was put off, owing to the very serious illness of the King, and the operation that it entailed. I was in attendance on the Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovitch of Russia, who had been sent to represent his brother, the Emperor. The Grand Duke was attended by a large suite, who were lodged very conveniently for the expected ceremony at the Buckingham Palace Hotel. Most of us remember the consternation that reigned in London when the ceremony was postponed, and few could have imagined it possible that the King could have made such a marvellous recovery as he did, and thus enable the Coronation to take place at the early date of August the 9th,—but so it was.
On the 1st of August I went down to Cowes to take my turn of duty. His Majesty had been already there for about a fortnight, and I remember my amazed delight at seeing him looking so marvellously well after such a short convalescence. Sir Frederick Treves, who had performed the operation (a very serious one), told me how astonished he was at the King’s powers of recuperation; and then afterwards, on the day after the Coronation, he was again telling me that he did not think it humanly possible that any man, who had only just recovered from such a dangerous illness, could be as well as he was after that very long and fatiguing ceremony at Westminster. I was very fortunate in being in personal attendance on that historic occasion, which has been so often described by far more practisedpens than mine, that I refrain from enlarging on it; but as an instance of their Majesties’ kind thoughtfulness for their attendants, after the cortège had returned to the palace we were all given the opportunity of offering our congratulations, before the King and Queen had divested themselves of their very beautiful, but remarkably heavy, coronation robes.
Events passed quickly. Within a week the Royal party had resumed their stay on board the Royal Yacht at Cowes. On the 16th the King reviewed the Fleet at Spithead, and the next day received on board the yacht the Boer Generals Delarey, de Wet, and Botha. Towards the end of August the Royal party went for a cruise, to work round to Scotland by the West Coast. Whenever their Majesties were cruising in the Royal Yacht or using her as their home at Cowes, the Marine Painter to the Sovereign, the late Cavaliere de Martino, was invariably one of the suite in attendance. Martino was a great character. A Neapolitan by birth, he had subsequently served in the Brazilian Navy, and then given up his naval career to become an artist. He had a complete knowledge of every detail connected with a ship, but, what was far more important, he had the real artist’s sense of atmosphere, which, for him, meant sea and sky, and I am lucky enough to possess several of his charming sketches to this day. I used to see a great deal of him when he was on board, as, knowing a little Italian, I could more or less understand the extraordinary sort of lingua franca that he always talked, which appeared to be a sort of mixture of Neapolitan, Portuguese, and English. The only guests on board,I think, were the Marquis de Soveral, then Portuguese Minister, and Mr. and Mrs. Derek Keppel, now Sir Derek and Lady Keppel, Sir Derek being the well-known Master of the Household to King George.
One of our first stops was made at the Isle of Man, which the King and Queen had never seen, and consequently desired to visit thoroughly. It was arranged that the party was to have a picnic luncheon at some historic ruin that is at one end of the island, and then drive across to the other side and finish the journey back to the landing-place by tramway. The arrangements for this expedition automatically fell upon my shoulders as Equerry-in-Waiting, and I don’t know that I have ever spent a more arduous twelve hours. It was the middle of the tourist season! I forget the exact number of thousands of them that were on the island that morning, but I remember that the entire local police consisted of a very able Chief Constable and, about six men. The tourists were determined to see as much of their Sovereign and his Consort as they could manage, and though it was the best-intentioned and most loyal crowd that I have ever seen, its immense size and demonstrative loyalty made it really very difficult to cope with. When the drive across the island took place, the tourists constituted themselves into a vast escort of bicyclists. This was all very well as regards the first carriage in which their Majesties were driving, but the carriages behind were enveloped in such a cloud of dust that the unfortunate coachmen literally could not see to drive. Finally, after what was for me, to use the modern expression, “a hecticday,” we arrived back at the port where the boats were ready to re-embark us all. The King’s carriage drove out to the end of the pier, but so great was the crowd that the occupants of the other carriages had to get out and walk alongside, and in the wake of, this one vehicle, and even that was not easy, for the pressure was so great, and the crowd so enthusiastic, that one had literally to cling to any part of the carriage one could get hold of. However all ended well. Their Majesties were much gratified with the loyalty and friendliness of the people, who were, on their side, equally delighted to have their Sovereign and his Consort actually in their midst; but personally, being, as Equerry, entirely responsible for anything connected with journeys, I was extremely relieved, when I found myself once again in the decorous surroundings of the Royal Yacht.
Another very interesting island visited that autumn was Arran, where the Duchess of Hamilton and her daughter were established in a shooting-box, which literally was a sort of sportsman’s paradise. Every officer in the ship who could be spared from duty was provided with some sort of sport. One party went after grouse. Two rifles were sent on the hill, and there was excellent salmon and sea-trout fishing for the rest. There was also known to be a heavy stag, who had taken to leaving the hill and coming down to feed on some corn that was in the immediate vicinity of the lodge; the King succeeded in shooting him late in the evening. The Royal party and their guests had spent the afternoon on the fringe of the moor, watching some sheep-dog trials; these trials, I believe, are constantly held in Wales and Scotland, and are well worth watching. Each shepherd works his own dog without moving from a certain fixed place, and it is little short of marvellous to see how dog and man work together. The sheep are in the distance on the hill, and the prize is given to the dog who succeeds in turning them off the hill, making them go through certain gaps, and finally rounding them up in a small enclosure in the shortest time, one of the conditions being that the sheep are to be herded there, without being distressed or exhausted.
Another place visited was Dunrobin, and there again excellent sport was provided. There were not a great many guests staying at the castle during their Majesties’ visit, but one charming lady, whose acquaintance I remember I had that opportunity of making, was Miss Irene Vanbrugh, otherwise Mrs. Dion Boucicault.
Shortly after the visit to Dunrobin I was relieved by a brother Equerry and went down South.
Whilst on the subject of country houses and sport in the North, I may as well mention that, before the war, I had made for many years a practice of going to Scotland in the autumn, and I can look back with infinite pleasure on the many happy and health-giving days spent in that very delightful part of the world. At many of these places I became almost an annual visitor. I am afraid to say how many times I was a guest at Tulchan, that delightful lodge and moor on Speyside, that was so long tenanted by the late Mr. Arthur Sassoon and his charming wife. Year afteryear I was one of the many who were invited there, and had not only excellent sport in very beautiful surroundings, but the greatest fun in the most supreme comfort; for though only a shooting-lodge, very simply arranged, the Chef was super-excellent, and the wine matched the Chef! One of the features of Tulchan was the number of dogs that literally swarmed there. Mrs. Arthur Sassoon herself was an ardent dog-lover, and had a string of Skye terriers. Our host had a large yellow retriever that was always with him. Every male guest thought it incumbent on him to bring a retriever, and the ladies of the party invariably possessed at least one dog apiece, and I veritably believe that had they not possessed a dog to take with them to Tulchan, they would have hired one for the occasion! So, as I remarked before, dogs swarmed there. Poor Major Seymour Wynne Finch (long since dead, to the infinite sorrow of his many friends, of whom, I am glad to remember, I was one,) was another yearly visitor to Tulchan. After one of his visits he wrote to thank his hostess for a very pleasant visit, adding: “it was so nice of you to have such a charming lot of dogs to meet me.” Moreover, there were very few years that passed without the late King, or the present King spending a few days of their stay in Scotland, as the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Sassoon at Tulchan Lodge, Speyside.
Another place I constantly visited was Strathconan, which still belongs to Captain and Lady Jane Combe, and here one always found almost everything in the shape of sport. To begin with, it is one of thevery best deer forests in Scotland; in addition there was some good grouse shooting on the lower ground, endless fishing in the lochs and river that flowed past close to the lodge, which was itself a picture of comfort, and for off-days there was a small but beautifully kept golf-course.
Glenquoich was another forest Lodge, where I have stayed several times, when in attendance on the late King. Lying, as it does, on the West Coast, the nearest point of the sea being only some eight miles distant, it combined a first-class forest with perhaps the most beautiful scenery in Scotland. When on the high ground, stalking on a fine day, I do not remember ever seeing anything that quite came up to the beauty of the scene around. One of the features of the scenery consisting in the number of tiny lochs that made small patches of that most gorgeous blue that combines so well with the colour of the heather and the grey-brown of the rocks. The late Lord Burton had a lease of Glenquoich for many years, and was really a benefactor to the whole neighbourhood, as through the long winter months, when life is very hard for the gillies (who, in general, have to make all they can out of the shooting and stalking season) he used to employ them in making pony-paths on the hill, so that he could ride pretty nearly all over the forest.
Then, for golf purposes, I constantly used to stay with my kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. William James, who had bought a charming house, Greywalls, built by the late Alfred Lyttelton, close to the club houseat Muirfield. Since poor Willy James’ lamented death, Greywalls has, I think, recently passed into other hands; but probably as a headquarters for golfing purposes it could not be surpassed, standing, as it did, on a Championship Course, and being within the easiest reach of North Berwick, Archerfield, Gullane, Gillspindie, Loughness, and indeed many other first-rate courses.
I was also a constant visitor at Gordonstown, as the guest of Mr. and Mrs. John Hanbury, where there was excellent low-ground shooting, and a delightful golf-course close by at Lossiemouth.
And, finally, another of my happy hunting-grounds has been, and is, Kinross, where, for many years past, I have been the guest of Sir Basil and Lady Montgomery, at their beautiful home on the shores of Loch Leven. Kinross deserves more than a passing mention. The beauty of the situation of the house is alone worthy of note. Built to face the island on the loch, where Queen Mary of Scots was imprisoned, I know nothing more beautiful in the way of a peaceful landscape, than the view from the windows. It commences with a foreground of walled garden, the centre of which is formally laid out and terminated by an imposing gate-way, known as the Fish Gate. Immediately opposite, as a mid-distance, is the principal island of Loch Leven, with its ruined castle embowered in trees, with various smaller islands dotted about, and the whole group encircled by the waters of the loch. In the distance are the outlines of the low Fife hills; while, as a finish to the picture, the loch is framed by the massive bastionsof hill formed by Fife-Lomond and Glenarty, which rear themselves up from the placid waters to the right and left. The house, too, is very beautiful and interesting. The first owner and architect of the present building was Sir William Bruce, and there is a tradition that he built, with the object of disposing of it to the Duke of York for a Scottish residence when his succession to the Throne was in doubt, at the time of the passing of the Exclusive Bill. This hope, if it ever existed, speedily came to an end, for before Kinross House was finished, the Duke of York had ascended the Throne as James II, and had Holyrood for a Scottish palace. Kinross House is a fine example of one of the early mansions of the Scotch Renaissance. It contains many beautiful things, principal amongst which is a fine staircase, with pierced and carved panels, which leads directly to the ball-room, a very large saloon taking up the greater part of the first floor. In the saloon are hung, amongst other family pictures, a very fine full-length portrait of Lady Montgomery by Raeburn, faced by a Hoppner of Lady Elizabeth Montgomery, and there are two very good three-quarter-length Romneys of the Marquis and Marchioness of Townshend. Altogether, the house and its surroundings make up one of the most beautiful and “liveable” homes that I have ever come across in my wanderings in Scotland.
In the spring of 1903 I was one of the suite in attendance on the occasion of King Edward’s official visits to the Capitals of France, Portugal and Italy. The sea route having been selected, His Majesty took the opportunity of visiting Gibraltar and Malta at the same time.
There are not wanting those who are of opinion that this expedition was what Sir Sidney Lee, in his biographical notice, calls a “vacation exercise.” Others, including a humble spectator, such as myself, think, on the other hand, that our subsequent happy relations with France are mainly due to the personal characteristics and influence of King Edward himself. At any rate every man is entitled to his own opinion, and, having expressed mine, I go on to say that those five weeks,—more especially the days of them that were passed in Paris,—were among the most interesting of my life. Under these circumstances I think it worth while to give the names of those who were in attendance during the trip.
The King embarked on board the Royal Yacht,Victoria and Albert, on March 30th. The Marquis de Soveral, Portuguese Minister in London, was a gueston board, as far as Lisbon, and the suite in attendance were as follows:—
The Hon. Charles Hardinge (now Lord Hardinge of Penshurst), Minister Plenipotentiary.The late Major-General Sir Stanley Clarke, Equerry and Acting Master of the Household.Rear-Admiral the Hon. Hedworth Lambton (now Admiral of the Fleet Sir Hedworth Meux), Extra Equerry and in command of the Royal Yacht.The late Sir Francis Laking, Physician in Ordinary.Captain Frederick Ponsonby (now Colonel Sir Frederick Ponsonby), Equerry and Acting Private Secretary.The late Cavaliere de Martino, Marine Painter to His Majesty.And another Equerry in the person of myself.
The Hon. Charles Hardinge (now Lord Hardinge of Penshurst), Minister Plenipotentiary.
The late Major-General Sir Stanley Clarke, Equerry and Acting Master of the Household.
Rear-Admiral the Hon. Hedworth Lambton (now Admiral of the Fleet Sir Hedworth Meux), Extra Equerry and in command of the Royal Yacht.
The late Sir Francis Laking, Physician in Ordinary.
Captain Frederick Ponsonby (now Colonel Sir Frederick Ponsonby), Equerry and Acting Private Secretary.
The late Cavaliere de Martino, Marine Painter to His Majesty.
And another Equerry in the person of myself.
On the following day the Royal Yacht proceeded on her journey to Lisbon, escorted by the cruisersVenus and Minerva; and not encountering the best of weather, rolled very heavily on her passage across the Bay. When approaching the entrance to the Tagus on April 2nd, our escort was reinforced by four Portuguese ships of war, which made the procession up the river quite an imposing spectacle.
As soon as the Royal Yacht had taken up her moorings she was boarded by King Carlos and his brother, the Duke of Oporto, and their Suites. They arrived in a procession of Royal Barges, the leading boat being certainly one of the most curious and beautiful craft that I have ever seen afloat. She was built in theeighteenth century, with a huge dragon, the arms of Braganza, as a figure-head, and pulled twenty oars a side, each oar being double manned, which made up a crew of over eighty, all dressed in scarlet caps and jackets. Never have I seen such a smart turn-out afloat. The coaches, too, which conveyed the King to the Necessidades Palace, where he took up his abode, were mainly about two hundred years old, and magnificently horsed,—or rather, to be accurate, “muled.” Nearly all the Royal carriage work at Lisbon used to be done by splendid mules well over sixteen hands high.
The two monarchs landed together in the forty-oared boat, and processed through the streets of Lisbon with the usual ceremonies to the Palace, where King Edward was received by the Dowager Queen Maria Pia. The usual addresses inevitable on those occasions were presented, and responded to, during the course of the visit; there was the customary State banquet, and every hour of the day was occupied. But there was time for a short visit to the Royal Palace of Peña, situated at the very summit of the mountain of Cintra, which I have attempted to describe before; and on the Sunday, after Service at the English Church, the King took luncheon at the Legation, with the British Minister, Sir Martin Gosselin, and his wife.
The afternoon before the Royal Yacht sailed was given up to what was looked upon (anyhow by the people of Lisbon) as the most important part of the whole visit, namely a bull-fight. A Portuguese bull-fight is an extraordinarily beautiful spectacle. The bull has his horns padded, and so good are the horsesand so well are they handled that, as a general rule, not a horse is ever touched by the bull, and the bull is only irritated by pin pricks in the literal sense, the lances used by the picadors having nothing more formidable at their points than a useful-sized pin. So neither man, horse, nor bull is any the worse, and when the latter is getting tired he is man-handled by some of the under-strappers of the ring and taken back to his stall. But the beauty of the spectacle really consists in its details and surroundings.
The bull-fighters arrive at the arena in a procession of delightful old coaches, with six horses apiece and endless outriders, from which they slowly descend with great pomp. They are all beautifully turned out, the picadors in particular being gorgeously apparelled and splendidly mounted. The surroundings consist in the huge amphitheatre, packed with people, (the women being all in bright colours), and a cloudless blue sky. When the performance begins, what with the bull charging, and the horsemen worrying him, the cries of the spectators, and the clanging of bands,—even the most callous spectator finds himself being carried away, and becomes gradually roused to some slight measure of enthusiasm.
On the 7th April the visit to Lisbon terminated, and the Royal Yacht was once more under wayen routeto Gibraltar.
And now for the practical outcome of the visit.
Just before the King started from England a very mischievous article had been published in a newspaper, hinting that the object of the visit to Lisbon was theacquisition of Delagoa Bay; indeed, vague rumours to that effect had been in circulation for some time. Thiscanardwas at once seized upon by the Anglophobe journals of the Portuguese and foreign Press, and great capital was being made of it. In the course of his speech, when accepting an address from the Commercial Association of Portugal, the King took the opportunity of saying that “Our respective countries and colonies, the integrity and preservation of which is one of my dearest aims and objects.” This announcement absolutely put an end to all the mischief at once. The Prime Minister of Portugal expressed his gratification to Sir Martin Gosselin, who happened to be standing near him, for what he described as “those golden words.” In fact, in a few seconds more was done to remove a cause of friction between two countries than could have been accomplished in the same number of months by official correspondence.
In lovely weather the Royal Yacht made her way to Gibraltar, where she arrived on the following day. An address of welcome was presented by a deputation from the Chamber of Commerce, to which a reply was duly given. There was an official dinner at the Convent given by the Governor, who was then the late Sir George White, the stout-hearted soldier who had so resolutely defended Ladysmith. The King, in responding to the toast of his health, took the opportunity of announcing his intention of promoting General Sir George White to the rank of Field-Marshal. No announcement could have been better received, as Sir George White, a very gallant man, and a loyal andcapable soldier, was exceedingly popular, not only in Gibraltar but throughout the Army.
It was during the King’s visit that I first had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Sir Arthur Nicolson, then Minister at Tangier (since then so well known as our Ambassador in Russia, and subsequently as Permanent Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs. He recently became Lord Carnock). He came over to present the Envoy of the Sultan of Morocco, and bore a letter from His Shereefian Majesty to King Edward. This Envoy rejoiced in a name so gorgeous that it is well worth while to print it—Cid Abderrahman ben Abdelsadok! The Governor of Algeciras also paid an official visit, arriving in a Spanish gunboat; but with the exception of a review of the troops of the garrison there was no other official function. The King was, of course, shown all the newest work in connection with the defences of the fortress and the developments of the dockyard, where he laid the first stone of a new dry dock. Personally, having spent a good deal of my youth there in frequent short visits, I was delighted to have a look at Gib. (as we all used to call it) again.
During the Royal Yacht’s stay at Gibraltar, it had been arranged that a squadron of battleships of the Channel Fleet should be there under the command of Rear-Admiral Curzon-Howe, but with King Edward’s usual genius for doing the right and gracious thing, at his suggestion the squadron was ordered to Algiers in order to salute the French President, Monsieur Loubet, on his arrival there, in connection with some official function.
On the morning of April 13th, the Royal Yacht with her escort, which had been reinforced by four more cruisers belonging to the Mediterranean Station, left for Malta.En routewe passed near enough to Algiers to be saluted by the shore batteries and by the Russian, Spanish and Italian ships that were there in compliment to the French President, and on the 16th the Royal Yacht steamed into the Grand Harbour, Valetta.