KING EDWARD, WITH EQUERRIES IN ATTENDANCE, ON THE PROMENADE AT MARIENBAD
, WITH EQUERRIES IN ATTENDANCE, ON THE PROMENADE AT MARIENBAD
, WITH EQUERRIES IN ATTENDANCE, ON THE PROMENADE AT MARIENBAD
To return to Marienbad: on the 31st of August, his cure having been completed, the King paid a visit to the Emperor Franz Josef at Vienna, and was lodged with his suite at the Hofburg. I have written so much about official visits in the last two chapters, that I do not think it the least necessary to enlarge on the Vienna visit. There was a Court representation at the Opera one evening and a dinner at the Palace of Schönbrunn, followed by a Court performance at the Burg Theatre. The Emperor himself was an interesting personage, in a sense, and though I believe not in the least remarkable for brains or intelligence, he will be remembered in history as having succeeded in keeping together the heterogeneous bevy ofNationalities, that was known as the Austro-Hungarian Empire, during a very long reign. He was often described as a sort of Royal Martyr, owing to the succession of tragedies that occurred in his family; but those who knew him best, always said that these tragedies that shocked the world, left him perfectly unmoved, so completely selfish and self-centred was he. Great capital was made out of his industry, and the fact that he rose at five in the morning, but in reality there was nothing particularlyremarkable about this early rising (except for the appalling inconvenience it was to his suite and servants), for he dined at five in the afternoon and went to bed at eight. Eight hours cannot be looked upon as a very short night’s rest. Latterly, I believe, he lived almost entirely at Schönbrunn, and in his old age used to breakfast daily with an aged actress who had been a friend of his in old days, and was established in a villa close to the palace. There was, naturally, at their age, no concealment about what had become a very harmless liaison, and the whole Viennese public were perfectly aware of it.
I was not enormously impressed with Schönbrunn. The most noticeable feature there, to my mind, was the mounting of two guards of honour outside the Emperor’s apartments, when the King and his suite arrived to dine there. On one side of the corridor the guard was Austrian, and opposite were posted a similar number of Hungarian troops, both guards looking as if nothing would please them so much as to fly at each other’s throats. I had visited Vienna before on my way home from Galatz, and knew the town pretty well, but was not then made an Honorary Member of the Jockey Club, as we all were in 1903. It was a most agreeable Club, and admirably managed. Amongst other details, the Club had a large permanent box at the Opera, which any member could use at his discretion.
The visit lasted the usual three or four days, and so the King and his suite were back in England in excellent time for the Doncaster races.
In October I was again on duty, spending most of the time between London and Newmarket, and was in attendance on the 9th of that month when the change of Government took place. There is an immemorial custom on those occasions that the outgoing and incoming Ministers do not meet; they are carefully shepherded into separate apartments. I remember, even to this day, my delight and amusement in watching the performance of one of the noted political wire-pullers of that period. I never quite grasped why he should have been at the palace at all on that occasion, but there he was, and, characteristically, going constantly in and out ofbothrooms!
The year 1904 was a busy year, as far as my duties were concerned, for I was in attendance when the King and Queen and Princess Victoria paid a three weeks’ visit to Copenhagen. The Royal Yacht conveyed the whole party as far as Flushing, the rest of the journey being done by the train, which was put bodily on board the ferry between Nyborg and Korson, the distance across being about equal to our Channel route between Dover and Calais.
The first two or three days of the visit were decidedly official, but after the usual ceremonial in the shape of gala dinners, etc., had been got through, the Royal Family were living very simply with their relations, Queen Alexandra, of course, being delighted to revisit her old home in her comparatively new capacity as Queen. It was a fairly full family circle, as Prince and Princess Charles, now King and Queenof Norway, were living in their apartment close to the Amalienborg Palace, in two different portions of which the two monarchs were lodged.
The Amalienborg Palace certainly deserves more attention than it generally receives; the proportions of the “Plads” that are formed by the four uniform buildings that enclose the “Plads” and are the Palace, make up, altogether, one of the most perfect architectural sites that I know in Europe. I have often heard it compared to the Place Vendôme, but, to my mind, though smaller, it is even handsomer, with its four mid-eighteenth century buildings at the four corners of the octagon, and the equestrian monument of Frederick V, of the same date, in its centre.
The Society in Copenhagen is naturally limited, as it is a comparatively small capital; but in those days, when it was constantly visited by the numerous and extremely influential relations of the then King Christian, to be Minister there was looked upon by representatives of the great Continental Powers, as a sure stepping-stone towards the highest diplomatic posts. In my time there I can remember such men as the late Count Benckendorff, M. Isvolsky, M. Crozier, as respectively Russian and French Ministers at Copenhagen. In 1904 that very charming house, the British Legation, was tenanted by two great friends of mine, Sir Alan and Lady Johnstone. They were both immensely popular in Copenhagen Society, and entertained most hospitably and gave the pleasantest of dinners. The Opera, too, was a great distraction, some of the performances being very well given, theballets, in particular, being quite first-rate. Altogether, the time there passed very agreeably.
By the middle of April the King and Queen were back at Buckingham Palace, but for a short time, for, before the end of the month, they had crossed from Holyhead to Kingstown, on a short visit to Ireland. Two or three days were spent at the Viceregal Lodge, Dublin, as the guests of Lord and Lady Dudley, the then Viceroy and Vicereine, during which the King laid the foundation-stone of the Royal College of Science in Dublin, with the usual formalities, and saw some good racing at Punchestown and in the Phœnix Park. In the course of the short tour that had been arranged, their Majesties visited Kilkenny, where they stayed for a couple of nights as the guests of the late Marquis of Ormonde and Lady Ormonde, and also paid a similar visit to the late Duke and Duchess of Devonshire at Lismore.
Lismore is very beautiful. The Castle itself is not a very genuine specimen of a castle, but it is so perfectly situated on some high ground on the banks of the Blackwater, that it looks most imposing, and the view from the windows, looking up and down the river, is quite lovely. During the stay of the Royal party, great dinners were given at the Castle, to which numbers of the gentry of the neighbourhood were invited. There is a fine dining-hall at the Castle, so the dinners were veritably banquets. By way of thoroughly carrying out the banquet scheme, the host and hostess—neither of whom cared in the least for music—had engaged the services of the band of thelocal Militia Regiment, which was very correctly stationed in the gallery. Never have I heard such appalling sounds as proceeded from that gallery; but, none the less, the Bandmaster was thoroughly enjoying himself, and conducted, much to his own satisfaction, a lengthy programme of the noisiest and most discordant music (?) from which I have ever suffered.
Talking of being at Lismore reminds me of the many times, and the many different places, in which I have been a guest of those two most hospitable people, the late Duke and Duchess of Devonshire. Probably no two people ever entertained to the extent that they did. At Chatsworth, in the winter, there were almost incessant large parties for the Derby November Race Meeting, which they always attended, and where the Duke always ran some horses; until past the New Year. They were at Lismore, generally, for three weeks in the spring, during which time, besides having friends to stay with them, the whole countryside was entertained at dinner. Then, at that charming place just outside Eastbourne, Compton Place, all through the summer they had a constant flow of visitors staying there for Sundays. At Newmarket, their little house in the High Street was always full for the Race Meetings, and, finally, what perhaps the Duke enjoyed most of all, there were the weeks spent at Bolton Abbey, from which, he and his guests daily cantered away on their ponies to shoot grouse on those famous moors. All of these houses were delightful to stay in, but I think, on the whole, I preferred my visits to Chatsworth, which was a veritable museum of beautifulthings. The greater part of the wonderful collection there was formed by the sixth Duke, who was known in his time as the “Magnifico.” In reality, as regards art, he was less of a Patron and more of a Collector than the Medicean Potentate with whom he shared the appellation. The result, as seen at Chatsworth, eminently justified what must have been a combination of connoisseurship, good advice, and great wealth. Besides the family pictures, amongst which is that lovely Sir Joshua of the beautiful Duchess playing “hot codlins” with her baby daughter, there is a gallery of collected pictures amongst which there are some real treasures, such as the famous Van Eyck triptych. There is also a sculpture gallery containing some of the best work of Canova and Thorwalsden. Personally I do not greatly care for the work of either of these masters, but none the less the examples at Chatsworth were very good of their kind. Then the library was wonderful, containing as it did endless treasures, such as volumes of Van Dyck’s original drawings, the uniqueLiber Veritatisof Claude Lorraine, and, in addition, some beautiful illuminated missals and fine bindings. Finally, what appealed to me most of all, was the collection of drawings of the great Italian masters which, simply framed, were hung in a long well-lighted gallery where they could really be seen and studied in comfort.
So much—or, more correctly, so little—about the interior of Chatsworth, except a passing mention of the number of pleasant people of all sorts that made up the parties there. Outside the house, the gardensand shrubberies were on a magnificent scale: in the midst of the latter stood the miniature Crystal Palace, used as a palm and fern house, erected by Sir Joseph Paxton. The best of covert shooting, (for nowhere can high pheasants be better shown than on the steep-wooded hillsides of Derbyshire,) an excellent grouse moor on the high ground above the house, and an eighteen-hole golf-course in the park, combined to make up a really magnificent English home of the sort that is so rapidly disappearing, and that probably in another generation will have ceased to exist.
It used to be rather the fashion in those days to talk as if the Duke was only busily engaged in politics because greatness in that line had been thrust upon him, and because, from a keen sense of duty, he felt obliged to play his part as a constant Minister of the Crown. To my mind, this was an absolutely false conception of the man. I believe that, fond as he was of sport, and also of being surrounded by younger people, nevertheless, the constant love of his life was politics.
Talking of his liking for younger people, there was a famous story about him years ago at Newmarket. One of his guests had heard him returning to the house in the small hours, and at breakfast next morning asked him what had kept him up so late. He replied that he had been playing whist at the Jockey Club Rooms with some young men whose names he did not know. “They called each other,” he said, “‘Putty,’ ‘Tops,’ and the ‘Shaver,’ and had it not been that the ‘Shaver’ had to attend a prize fight at six in themorning, I probably should have been playing whist there still.”
But to return to the Duke as a politician. Though I have heard him groan at having to prepare a speech when he might otherwise have been out shooting with his guests, and probably be rather bored when he had to deliver it; yet, none the less, I think that he enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that his closely-reasoned utterances would be read in the Press next morning by thousands of his countrymen, who, on any important subject, were always glad to study the opinion of one of the wisest, and most perfectly honest of Englishmen. In his last years his position in this country was very remarkable. The public, in spite of the attractions of those who might possibly be described as “Headline Politicians,” have a great respect and belief in a man whom they know instinctively, as well as by reputation, to be honest, truthful, and absolutely disinterested. The cynical might remark that it is easy for a man with the late Duke’s position and possessions, to be the reverse of self-seeking, but I think those who knew him best will agree with me, that whatever had been his position, his character would have been the same.
In November 1904 I was in attendance on King Carlos of Portugal, when His Majesty and Queen Amelie arrived in England to return the King’s visit to Lisbon of the previous year.
At the conclusion of the official visit King Carlos remained for some weeks in England, which he spent principally in paying a series of visits to various country houses for shooting, about which sport he wasextremely keen. He was a very fine shot, and for that reason alone would have been a welcome guest at any shooting party. He visited in succession Didlington Hall, then in the possession of the late Lord Amherst of Hackney; Elveden Hall, Lord Iveagh’s wonderful shooting manor, once tenanted by another great shot, the late Maharajah Duleep Singh; Bowood, Lord Lansdowne’s beautiful seat in Wiltshire, and finally Chatsworth. It was a bitterly cold winter, and both at Elveden and Chatsworth there was deep snow on the ground. I have never met a man so completely impervious to cold as was the late King of Portugal. He would stand outside a cover in a bitter wind with nothing on but the thinnest of shooting coats, as he found that thick clothes hampered his quickness with the gun, which was really very remarkable; he was not only very accurate as a shot, but quick,—phenomenally quick,—in getting on to his bird.
During the whole of this tour, the Marquis de Soveral, Lord Suffield and I were in attendance. It was an extremely pleasant round of visits, and the shooting at all of them was very good,—at Elveden, of course, particularly so. Queen Amelie had, meanwhile, been paying some visits on her own account; but she accompanied the King to Chatsworth, which was the last private visit he paid before returning to the Continent. King Carlos was the personification of good nature and kindness, and was also an extremely accomplished man, which made his brutal murder in the streets of Lisbon on February 2nd, 1908, seem to any of those who had the honour of knowing him personally, to be not onlyone of the foulest, but also one of the most meaningless murders in history.
Before the year 1904 ended, I was to take part in yet one more official visit, having been detailed to be in attendance on H.R.H. Prince Arthur of Connaught, when representing the King at the christening of the infant son and heir of the King and Queen of Italy. Prince Arthur and his suite, consisting of Field-Marshal Lord Grenfell, Captain Windham, then one of the Duke of Connaught’s Equerries, and myself, duly arrived in Rome during the first days of December. The actual christening took place in one of the drawing-rooms of the Quirinal Palace. It really was rather a pretty sight. A temporary altar had been set up, there was a procession of the Royal Families and their Representatives, headed by a bevy of priests, with a band in the gallery playing suitable music.
When the ceremony was over there was an enormous luncheon, followed in the evening by a gala dinner. In a letter which I wrote home at the time, it is evident that I was much impressed with the beauty of the jewels worn by some of the ladies at the banquet! “Some of the women certainly had on the most marvellous jewels; there was one opposite me, whose name I cannot remember, who wore such diamonds as I doubt if I ever saw before, even on Royalties. Donna Franca Florio (one of the most beautiful women of her time) was beautifully dressed, and had on a long row of splendid pearls that reached to her knees. She looked very handsome, as also did Princess Teano. But the beauty of the jewels that were worn impressedme greatly. Some of them looked as if they must have been heirlooms dating from the Renaissance.”
During all these years, some events of which I have been endeavouring to describe, notwithstanding a good deal of duty, much of which entailed being out of the country, I was by no means neglecting racing—a sport to which, in those days, I was very devoted. To go racing meant being amongst almost the pleasantest of one’s friends, and amidst the cheeriest of surroundings, and, in addition, it became more interesting to me owing to the large increase in the size of the Sandringham Stud. The bloodstock in the paddocks there had been largely augmented in the way of brood mares by the purchase, amongst others, of such fine animals as Laodamia and Nonsuch, the natural result being that every year there were more foals and yearlings to inspect, and prophesy about. But racing is a curiously fluctuating business, and, unfortunately, beautiful as these young things were to look at, from 1901 onwards they turned out, with hardly an exception, to be singularly worthless. After Diamond Jubilee’s great year of 1900, for a long spell, Richard Marsh was hardly able to win a race for his leading patron. For the entire racing season of 1901, during which time the King was in mourning for Queen Victoria, the race-horses were leased to the Duke of Devonshire (another of Marsh’s patrons) and ran in his colours. Great things were expected of them. To begin with, Diamond Jubilee seemed to have the three races, open to four-year-olds, at his mercy, but he was a queer-tempered animal anddeclined altogether to exert himself any further, and though he ran in succession in the Princess of Wales, the Eclipse, and Jockey Club Stakes, the St. Leger of 1900 was his last victory. Lean year followed lean year, and it was not until 1908, when the Sandringham Stud could only send up one colt seemingly worthy of training, that the luck began to turn. To make up for this shortage of colts, the King leased half a dozen two-year-old colts from Colonel Hall Walker (who has lately become Lord Wavertree) and partly thanks to Minoru, one of the leased animals, but mainly to the home-bred Princesse de Galles, who won five nice races, there was at last a respectable winning balance in the way of stakes.
But 1908 was easily eclipsed by the season of 1909, when the King was placed at the head of the winning list of owners. This was mainly owing to the success of Minoru, who won five good races in succession, including the two classics,—namely the Two Thousand and the Derby. The King’s Derby victory was acclaimed with wonderful enthusiasm by the immense crowd at Epsom; His Majesty followed the tradition of leading in his horse, but how he managed to get on to the course, inundated as it was with a surging crowd of enthusiasts, and, having got there, how he ever got inside the neighbouring enclosure again, is almost past the wit of man to understand. However, supported by Lord Marcus Beresford, Marsh, and an Equerry or two, to say nothing of the still more efficient aid of two or three men of the Metropolitan Police, the impossible was duly performed, and Minoru was led in.I was not at Epsom when Diamond Jubilee won the Derby, but I saw Persimmon win, so knew something of the cheering of which an Epsom crowd is capable, but even then it was nothing to the delight displayed by the crowd, when the Derby was won by their own reigning Sovereign.
One other occasion I remember at Epsom, when the crowd was wonderfully pleased and enthusiastic, and that was when Signorinetta had won the Oaks for the Cavaliere Ginistrelli, having scored the double event by winning the Derby two days before. The King and Queen Alexandra were present in the Royal box, and I happened to be in waiting at the time. As soon as the mare’s number had gone up I was dispatched to find the Cavaliere, and inform him that the King wished to congratulate him personally on his dual victory. With great difficulty I succeeded in getting him to accompany me to the Royal box, (so shy and confused was he at the sudden honour that was to be thrust on him), but I eventually succeeded. On his arrival in the Royal box, the King placed him in the front of it between the Queen and himself, so that he could bow his acknowledgments to the cheering crowd. The crowd was delighted, for he was a very popular man in the racing world, especially at Newmarket, where he lived, and though the crowd on Oaks day is very much smaller than it is on the day of the Derby, the cheering was, nevertheless, terrific in its intensity.
But my racing recollections are getting far in advance of their time, and I must revert to a few years earlier and get on with my story.
In 1906 I came in for a most interesting cruise in the Royal Yacht, which took me further afield than I had been for many a long year, for early in April the King and Queen and Princess Victoria joined the Royal Yacht at Marseilles for a cruise in Eastern waters.
The voyage cannot be said to have commenced auspiciously, as the yacht was compelled to remain for four days at Marseilles, whilst weatherbound by an atrocious gale. However, nothing lasts for ever, and eventually the gale came to an end, so by the 8th of the month the yacht was on her way to Messina, at which port she arrived early next day. Taormina, the beautiful, being within easy reach, had, of course, to be visited. It was always a pleasure to me to see it again; but I knew the place well, having been there in the oldSurprisedays, and later, in the course of a winter trip to Sicily.
From Messina it was only a short journey to Corfu, and there the Royal Yacht was to spend some days not only in very beautiful, but also amongst very interesting surroundings. To commence with, the King of the Hellenes was there with a number of his family on board his yacht theAmphitrite; the Prince and Princessof Wales, on their way home from India, were on board theRenown; and, finally, the Mediterranean Fleet was at anchor in the bay under the command of the late Lord Beresford, flying his flag from the masthead of H.M.S.Bulwark.
Various entertainments were given on board the flagship in the shape of dinners, and we were also shown a good deal of what was then the new Navy, for even as late as 1906 the Fleet in the Mediterranean was our most up-to-date Naval asset, and its command was still looked upon as the most important in the Navy. Except for the great beauty of the island itself, there is nothing very remarkable in the way of sight-seeing to be done at Corfu, so in default of any other short excursion, the Achilleion was frequently visited; the house itself consists of a sort of rather tawdry villa, built in what is evidently meant to be a Pompeian style, the whole edifice being extremely ugly and characteristically German in taste. But there criticism ends, for as regards situation, and the view from the garden, it is absolutely beautiful. From where the statue of Achilles stands, from which the villa takes its name, one can see right over the little town of Corfu, with its charming old Venetian fort, and Ulysses’ Island, enshrined in a most beautiful bay, the whole view being rounded off by a background, consisting of the mountains of Albania.
In fact, Corfu is a very charming place, and I always wonder that more people do not winter there; it has a delightful climate, the scenery is superb, the roads we made during our long occupation of the island, although sadly neglected by their present owners, makeexcursions in all directions still feasible. On the other hand, islands are always troublesome to arrive at, and get away from, and there is no such thing as a Casino there, though were it to become a fashionable winter resort, that necessity (?) would doubtless be soon provided by some enterprising Greek syndicate.
After four or five pleasant days at Corfu, theVictoria and Albertproceeded to the Piræus, and on her arrival there, the King and Queen and Princess Victoria and the suite left Piræus for Athens, and took up their temporary residence at the palace.
Shortly after our King’s arrival, the Olympic games, that were intended to be a sort of International Sporting Tournament, to be held in turn in various Capitals, were inaugurated in the new Stadium that had been built for the occasion. The Stadium, in another thousand years or so, when the white marble of which it is built has become coloured and patinaed with age, may become beautiful; but to my mind, nothing is so hideous as the staring white, of brand-new marble, and the Stadium at Athens was no exception. It was of huge size, and being new, could look like nothing in the world but a wedding cake. Personally, I am not fond of looking on at what are called “sports,” especially when they consist largely in teams of extremely well-drilled and well-set-up athletes doing, what used to be called in the Navy “physical drill,” and a large part of the competition seemed made up of these exercises, which are, I fancy, very popular in Germany and among the Northern races generally. But one very interesting competition I did see, that took place outside theStadium in a garden in the vicinity; for there the English team of épéeists (if there is such a word!) encountered the German representatives, and to our great joy soundly trounced them. Our team was headed by Lord Desborough, and eventually fought its way into the final, in which they were defeated, after a very close contest, I think, by the Belgians. The particular bout that delighted me, was one between Lord Desborough, and a remarkably corpulent German expert, who received such a prodding from his powerful and active antagonist that, in spite of the plastron and the button on the épée, I fully expected to see daylight let into the Teutonic “corpulency”!
Towards the end of the month, the Royal Yacht was once more under weigh, anchoring for a night at Katakolo to enable a visit to be paid to Olympia. I had been several times to Athens before, but never had managed to get to Olympia, which is really very difficult of access. To get there in any comfort a yacht is required, supplemented by a short railway journey and a long drive, and as the hotel—or rather the village inn—is quite remarkably bad, the whole expedition has to be compressed into the inside of a day. With a yacht at one’s disposal, there is no great difficulty, and indeed the actual journey by sea from Athens to the anchorage in Katakolo Bay is a very pleasant one, and wonderfully lovely as to scenery. Athens itself is more beautiful when seen from the sea than from any other aspect, and, after going through the Corinth Canal, the Gulf of Corinth, which is never more than about thirty miles across at its broadest portion, provides a succession of views whosebeauty, both as to colour and to outline, are difficult to over-estimate. Olympia itself is wonderfully interesting. When the original town was at the height of its fame, with its wealth of temples and shrines, to say nothing of the most important feature of all,—the Stadium for the Olympic games,—it must have been one of the wonders of the world. Much has been done in the way of excavation, so, from the summit of Kronos Hill, just to the north of the town, which lies in a sort of natural amphitheatre, it is possible to form some sort of idea of what its appearance must have been, when Olympia was in its glory. But, to my mind, far more beautiful than anything else there, and alone worth any length of journey to see, is the Hermes of Praxiteles that is safely lodged in the little museum. This statue was, I believe, found some twenty or thirty years ago by an excavating party, and was lying at the bottom of the little stream which is still dignified with the name of the River Alphios. It is exquisitely beautiful. The slight turn of the head that enables the Hermes to glance at the lovely little Bacchus perched on his shoulder, the beauty of every detail, and the wonderful patina, perhaps produced by the many hundreds of years immersion, make up altogether what is, in my poor judgment, far the most attractive, if not the finest, statue in the world. I remember how difficult it was to tear oneself away from this wonderful group, and how almost disagreeable it was to look at anything else in the museum, though, as a matter of fact, not far from it stands the Niké of Paconios, which is extremely fine, and there are also a quantity of interesting fragments;but the Hermes is so compellingly wonderful, that everything else under the same roof seems to be second-class.
Altogether the trip to Olympia was an immense delight, and even the names on the signposts were attractive. There was something very pleasant in driving, (even in a shandrydan of a Greek fly), down the road to Arcadia!
From Katakolo the Royal Yacht proceeded to Naples, at which port the King disembarked for Paris and London, the Queen and Princess Victoria remaining on board for a further cruise on the Italian coast.
Later in the year I was present at Buckingham Palace at a rather mournful little ceremony. Under the new Army Organisation Scheme, it had been decided to disband the 3rd Battalion of the Scots Guards. Naturally, the officers and men of the battalion were much distressed at their disappearance from the Army List, and, as some sort of consolation, the King took the opportunity of parading them at Buckingham Palace, so as to take leave of them, accepting, at the same time, the custody of their colours. This fine battalion paraded under the command of Colonel Lawrence Drummond, their Colonel. After the parade, the colours were handed over by the colour party to the two Equerries-in-Waiting, and by them were duly placed in the private chapel of the palace, where I have no doubt they remained until the late war, when a third battalion was reformed.
Early in 1907 I was once more in Paris in attendance on the King and Queen, who took the opportunityof paying a week’s visit to that Capital. With the exception of a luncheon with the President, there were no official functions, and for once in a way it was a real holiday for their Majesties. The King and Queen occupied the Embassy during the whole of their visit, the Ambassador and Ambassadress (then the late Sir Francis and Lady Feodorovna Bertie) taking up their residence for the time at the Hôtel Bristol.
The British Embassy in Paris is worthy of a few words of description, both on account of its historical interest and its magnificence as a residence. I question whether many of my countrymen realise what a bargain was made by the nation, when it was purchased for something under £30,000, its value before the late war being estimated at about a quarter of a million sterling. It was bought on the advice of the Duke of Wellington during the occupation of Paris by the Allies after Waterloo, and was at the time the Paris home of the Prince and Princess Borghese, the Princess being the beautiful Pauline, a sister of the great Napoleon.
It is most conveniently situated for an official residence, standing as it does, to use the French expression, “entre cour et jardin,” with its entrance on the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré, only a very few hundred yards from the Palace of the Élysée, the official residence of the President of the French Republic. The garden is unusually large for a Paris house, extending its border almost to the Avenue des Champs Élysées.
The interior of the “hotel” (to again use the French term) is very magnificent, decorated profusely in the approved style of the period of its occupation byPauline Borghese, and consequently filled with fine specimens of Empire furniture, decoration, and bibelots, extending even to a fine dinner-service of gold plate. The proportions of the great reception and dining-rooms on the ground floor are very imposing, and they contain some remarkably good specimens of mantelpieces andgarnitures de cheminéesof bronze and ormolu.
Just at the top of the great staircase is the small dining-room that was used by the King and Queen for private luncheons and dinners. This little room is hung with some early seventeenth-century Gobelin tapestries, which were sent over in the late Lord Bertie’s time by our Foreign Office for cleaning and restoration; at his request they were, after their treatment, allowed to remain there, and are the principal ornament of the small dining-room to this day. The State bed-rooms were, of course, occupied by the King and Queen during their visit; the larger of the two is absolutely untouched, and remains exactly as it was in Pauline Borghese’s time. The bed is a splendid specimen of Empire work, and so are the toilette tables with their hand-chased bronze medallions. The candelabra on the mantelpiece are especially beautiful, and there are interesting medallion portraits of Pauline and her husband on either side of the fire-place.
The drawing-rooms on the first floor were hung with pale amber-yellow damask, and also contained all their original Empire furniture, with beautiful candelabra and chimney-pieces. The smaller of the two in those days was used by the Ambassadress as hersitting-room, and amongst other interesting pictures there was a portrait of herself and her sister, Lady Hardwicke, as girls, (they were the daughters of the Lord Cowley who was a long time Ambassador in Paris, and I fancy that one, if not both, of the sisters was actually born at the Embassy); there was also another portrait of Lady Feodorovna Wellesley (as she was then) dressed as a bridesmaid to Princess Alexandra of Denmark, on her marriage with the Prince of Wales in 1863.
To proceed with the King and Queen’s stay in Paris:—Amongst the several theatres visited was the Théâtre Sarah Bernhardt, where that wonderful artist, Madame Bernhardt, was playing in a very pretty little poetical piece calledLes Bouffons, and apropos of Madame Bernhardt andLes Bouffons, the conjunction of the two resulted in an extremely pleasant half-hour for me. I was sent round to see the illustrious artist in question, on the morning of the performance, to ask her to put off the hour fixed for the entertainment, to enable their Majesties, who had a dinner party, to be in time for the beginning. I had known the great Sarah in England, but very slightly, and on this occasion when I called at her house, though she evidently had risen straight from her bed to receive me, she kept me long after our business had been disposed of, gossiping, and relating all the amusing cabotinage of Paris, for, besides being a transcendent artist, she was one of the most agreeable of women.
There was a constant succession of luncheons given in honour of the distinguished visitors, but the onethat remains in my memory was at the apartment of the late Sir Reginald Lister, then, as Reggie Lister, the first Secretary of the Embassy. It was quite a small party, but amongst the guests were Monsieur and Madame Jean de Reszke. Madame Jean, though nominally only an amateur, was practically a great artist, and after luncheon was over, she sang as she only could sing. She possessed one of the most lovely and sympathetic voices I have ever heard, and was, moreover, a perfectly trained musician; indeed, Jean always averred that she was a better singer than he, and I can still remember the enormous pleasure it was to listen to her. I had heard her before, at one or two of those delightful musical parties that the late Lady Ripon used so constantly to give at Coombe,—parties, the like of which I can remember in no other house, and I can never expect to experience anything comparable to them in the future. For there all the greatest artists in the world used to sing as they sang nowhere else, knowing, as they did, that in their hostess alone, to say nothing of her guests, they had the most sympathetic of audiences, and, moreover, in her, a kind and constant friend. At so many concerts where great singers give us of their art, though they cannot help singing well, there is always a feeling that they are faithfully performing a contract for which they are paid, and the contract being completed, are very pleased to have earned their money and to go home to bed. At Coombe, on the contrary, they sometimes almost fought as to who was to get to the piano, and the accompanist first. Therenever was such a thing as a programme; but they simply sang whatever came into their heads, or whatever they were asked for, for the popularity of that very gifted and beautiful lady in musical circles was simply boundless. I remember once seeing such artists as Destinn, Caruso, and Scotti, with Signor Ricordi at the piano, with only one book between the four of them, trying through, what was then, an unheard-of opera in London,—Madame Butterfly. Alas! that those days have gone for ever, through the untimely death of one of the kindest of my friends, and the most interesting hostess of my time.
The Paris visit being concluded, the rest of 1907, as far as my duties were concerned, was spent to a great extent on board the Royal Yacht, for in July the Royal Family once more embarked on board her at Holyhead for a visit to Ireland and Wales. After spending the night on board at Holyhead, Bangor was visited to enable the King to lay the foundation-stone of the new buildings of the University College of Wales.
Two days afterwards theVictoria and Albertwas at Kingstown, from which port the King and Queen and Princess Victoria drove to Dublin for the purpose of visiting the Dublin Exhibition, the Marquis of Aberdeen being, at that time, Viceroy. To use the usual form of the Court Circular, during all the driving that was done on this occasion, and on a subsequent visit to Leopardstown for the races, “the Equerries-in-Waiting were in attendance on horseback.”
I have ridden many miles in my time on these sortsof occasions, and any one with any sense of humour can get a good deal of fun out of them, by studying the attitude of the mobs that one has to pass through; but nothing is half so amusing as an Irish crowd. The Irish people are always supposed to be the very reverse of loyal, but none the less they love a show of any kind, and whenever I have been riding in attendance in Ireland, though passing only an arm’s length off the packed masses of humanity that line the streets, I have never heard a word, or seen a gesture, of anything that was not at any rate friendly.
The following day the Royal party went by road to the Leopardstown races. Racing is always good sport in Ireland, even when one is dressed in an Equerry’s riding-kit, which includes a cocked hat, and when feeling very hot and dusty after having ridden in front of the escort for several miles on the hard high road. That particular meeting at Leopardstown produced even more amusement than usual. The King gave a cup for the winner of an officers’ race, for which there were some thirty starters. There were some fairly decent animals entered, the property of officers, and ridden by their owners or some brother officer; but amongst the whole lot there was only one serious race-horse. This horse had been given by a large race-horse owner to a departmental officer so short a time before the race, as to call forth serious comment. Good odds were laid on this animal to win, but curious things happen in racing, and especially in Ireland. Some of the young officers who were riding in the race with no particular chance of winning, but more for the sakeof taking part in a very amusing contest than anything else, had evidently made up their minds, rightly or wrongly, that the gift was not a very genuine one, and that whatever won, they would take care that this particular horse did not. And he did not! At the start, a sort of zareba of horses was formed round him, and after the flag was dropped, curiously enough, whenever he seemed to have a chance of getting through his horses, and taking his place, he was invariably unlucky in being knocked into, and eventually came in with the ruck. An Irish crowd loves and understands racing, and is endowed with the keenest sense of humour, and the shouts of laughter that went up to heaven during this contest did one good to hear.
After leaving Kingstown, the Royal Yacht steamed up the Bristol Channel on her way to Cardiff. It was a lovely morning and full of interest to me, as I could recognise many of my old haunts when passing; such as Hartland, Lundy Island, beautiful Clovelly,—where, from boyhood onwards, I have spent some of the happiest days of my life,—and the outline of Exmoor, where I had so often hunted in my boyhood and youth.
The function at Cardiff consisted in the formal opening of the new Alexandra Docks, and, later on, after lunching with Lord and Lady Bute at their great house, which is literally within the town of Cardiff, a special non-stop train ran the Royal party up to London in time for dinner. I am afraid to say at what pace the train must have been running. I onlyknow that the permanent way of the Great Western is so well laid that there was no shaking; we might have been pottering along at thirty miles an hour instead of at considerably over double that speed.
In August the Royal Yacht was again in full commission for Cowes, and the opportunity was taken of paying a visit to the then brand-newDreadnought, and going outside the island in her, to see the target-practice of the then, also new, 12-inch guns. To me, of course, it was very interesting, and the visitors on board (there was quite a large party, amongst which were a great number of ladies, who came by the invitation of their Majesties) were, I think, agreeably disappointed in the noise made by the firing, which was nothing like so ferocious as had been generally expected.
And so ended the year 1907 as far as Court duties were concerned.
In the early part of that same year I had joined the Board of Directors of the Leonor Nitrate Company, and as I was anxious to make myself familiar with the manufacture of Nitrate, at the end of 1907 I accompanied a very old friend of mine, Mr. Reginald Morris, to Chile, for a trip to the Nitrate Fields. Reggie Morris was on the Board of a number of Nitrate Companies and Chairman of the Leonor, and had been out on business to Chile before, so my excursion was made under the most favourable auspices. We started from Southampton on a fine ship, the s.s.Avon, belonging to the Royal Mail Steamship Company, and, after coming in for a very heavy gale in the Bay, arriving successively at Vigo and Lisbon to pick up some 400 emigrants, proceeded on our journey, calling at Madeira, Bahia and Rio de Janeiro on our way,—almost the same route that I had already gone by under sail, the first time I went to sea in the old training frigate,Bristol, some thirty-six years before.
There were a number of Argentine passengers on board, most of whom, (as they adore Paris), we had picked up at Cherbourg, where the ship stayed for a few hours after leaving Southampton.
Nothing of the smallest interest happened on our journey out; the only salient fact that remains in my memory is, that I came to the conclusion that Argentine children, with which the ship swarmed, were the most unruly and badly-brought-up specimens I had ever come across. They made day and night hideous with their noise; their parents and governesses could not exert even the smallest control over them, and I solemnly wished that there had been a new Herod on board to massacre these “innocents.” I just had sufficient knowledge of Spanish to recognise “swear words,” and the language used to the stewards and servants by these afore-mentioned “innocents” would have shocked any of the topmen of my sailing-ship days.
About the middle of the month we arrived at Rio, and were two full days there, so we left the ship and spent the night at a delightful hotel high up the Corcavado Mountains, which is reached by its own little funicular railway. It was midsummer in South America, and I shall never forget the gorgeous views over the harbour from this mountain hotel. It happened to be full moon at the time, so we and our fellow-passengers strolled about in the garden for hours after dinner, quite unable to go to bed, so beautiful was the scene. By the vivid light of a full tropical moon the whole of that wonderful panorama that is Rio Harbour was plainly visible in every detail; indeed so vivid was the moonlight that it was almost possible to see colour in the hibiscus that grew like weeds in the garden of the hotel. The next daywe had a long morning drive in a most up-to-date motor-car that had been lent to us by Mr. Sheppard, which took us for miles on fine roads bordered by that tropical vegetation that is perhaps more gorgeous at Rio than almost anywhere.
The mention of our drive in Mr. Sheppard’s car reminds me that that gentleman, who is so well known in South America as being, amongst other things, Managing Director of perhaps the most successful industry outside the United Kingdom, was a sort of “Fairy Godmother” to us during our stay at Rio. He met us when we arrived, provided us with motors and steam-launches, entertained us most hospitably, and finally put us on board and saw us off.
By the 25th of November we were comfortably lodged at a very good hotel in Buenos Ayres, where we had to wait until the train,—which in those days, I think, only ran twice a week as an express,—could take us on our way to the frontier.
We were most hospitably received by the Argentine gentlemen for whom we had letters, and were made honorary members of the Jockey Club, a palatial residence about twice the size of Stafford House. Things are done on a large scale in the Argentine. I discovered that the entrance fee for members of the Club was £300! One of our hosts was a charming man—Don Carlos Tompkinson, a descendant on one side of that well-known old Cheshire family. He himself was a great racing man, and to my delight made arrangements for us to go out to luncheon at M. Correa’s stud farm, a few miles outside the Capital.M. Correa was the gentleman who had purchased the King’s horse, Diamond Jubilee, for £30,000, a year or two before. His stud farm was an enormous establishment, and, in addition to Diamond Jubilee, there were two other very high-class stallions standing there, one of them being that good French horse, le Sancy. To show the scale that M. Correa’s horse-breeding was done on, I happened to say to him that £30,000 was a high price, but I supposed that so many subscriptions would be taken to Diamond Jubilee that no doubt the horse would be a paying asset, when, to my surprise, he told me that he took no subscription, and that his three horses were never mated except with his own mares, of which he owned the best part of a hundred.
A few days elapsed and we were in the train that crosses the great Argentine plain that reaches to Mendoza, a fair-sized town at the base of the Andes. At Mendoza we changed to the funicular railway, that in those days only reached as far as Los Quevas, where we found the work on the Transandine Tunnel in full blast. The tunnel has long since been completed, and the line now runs through it direct to the Capital, Santiago de Chile.
At Los Quevas there was a sort of rest-house where we passed the night, and at six the next morning we mounted our mules and rode over the pass, and though it is almost the lowest of the Andes passes, even there a height of 13,000 feet is reached. I had looked forward immensely to the ride, which I expected to enjoy, but all enjoyment was made, more or less,impossible, for, like every one else, I suffered from mountain sickness, which, though it only took, in my case, the form of a splitting headache, was sufficiently disagreeable to discount considerably the pleasure of riding over the Andes.
At this altitude we had, of course, easily reached the snow line, and felt the cold considerably, having been fairly roasted in the train only the day before; but in spite of all these trifling inconveniences, it was an interesting ride, and the scenery was very wild and grand. The mules were good beasts, but, being generally in the habit of carrying packs, preferred to walk on the extreme edge of the mountain paths that we had to ascend, and until one became accustomed to it, there was something rather uncanny in proceeding in single file with one’s outside leg well over the edge of the precipices. But it is quite useless to attempt to argue with a mule, and we soon got used to it. At almost the extreme summit of the pass there is a colossal statue of Our Saviour, which marks the boundary between the two countries of Argentine and Chile, and the descent at once commences. The mules carried us as far as the Chilean village of Huncal, and there the passengers, with their luggage, were trans-shipped into a number of rattletrap carriages which drove at a furious speed down the mountain side to the first railway-station on the Chilean side, where we took train to Santiago, at which place we arrived on the 1st of December.
At Santiago we settled down for a few days at the Hôtel Oddo, as there were some business men tointerview on the subject of Nitrate Concessions, one of whom was a gentleman who is now well known in London, namely Señor Augustine Edwards, for he and his charming wife, Madame Edwards, have, for some time past, been representing Chile, at the Chilean Legation in Grosvenor Square. Another leading personage amongst the business men of Chile, whose acquaintance I was fortunate enough to make out there, was Señor Merry del Val, a brother of the well-known Cardinal of that name, another brother of the same family being Don Alfonso Merry del Val, the Spanish Ambassador at present in London.
Santiago is quite an attractive town, beautifully situated at the base of the Andes, and with every sort of comfort in the shape of a good hotel and an excellent club. At the time, I was much struck with the enormous number of unfinished churches that abounded in the Capital, and naturally wanted to “know the reason why.” I was told,—but whether it is true or not I have not a notion,—that as long as a church is in construction money is sent from Rome to assist in the building expenses, this grant obviously coming to an end when the sacred edifice is completed. Oddly enough, apparently no church ever is finished, so the grant goes on almost to perpetuity.Se non è vero, è ben trovato.
We succeeded in getting a day’s racing at Santiago before leaving for Valparaiso to embark for Iquique, the principal Nitrate Port on the Chilean coast. There is so much Spanish blood in the Chilean nation that great punctuality is not to be expected; but even then,it was rather more than one could bargain for, to find that the first race advertised for 2.30, did not start eventually until a little after five!
It was an easy journey to Valparaiso, and after a short stay there we embarked on a coasting steamer that duly conveyed us to Iquique, where we arrived on December 9th, and where the real work of the tour was to commence.
On arriving at Iquique we were met by Mr. Noel Clarke, who, besides being British Consul, was also the head of a large firm which did general trade all along the coast, and was intimately connected with the Nitrate business. Noel Clarke was destined to have a very busy time during the next few months, as will be explained later. Meanwhile, he and his very charming wife took us in at their house near the outskirts of the town, where we lived during our stay at Iquique, in the greatest comfort and in the pleasantest surroundings.
Iquique was not a bad sort of town at all. It boasted of some very respectable public buildings, and, being largely inhabited by English merchants, naturally possessed the inevitable club, race-course, and polo-ground. Its principal source of prosperity really consisted in the anchorage, where steamers and the large sailing-clippers could lie very comfortably waiting for their cargoes of nitrate, the long sea-coast of Chile being, on the whole, very badly off for harbours.
While on the subject of the coast, I must say something about my impressions of the Pacific. I had sailed, in my time, on most seas, but this visit was my first experience of the Pacific Ocean, and I found it extraordinarily attractive. Though I have never seen it except when it was completely acting up to its name, I have no doubt but what occasional terrific gales occur there, as elsewhere. But what delighted me was the bird and beast life of the coast (I wonder whether a sea-lion is correctly described as a beast?), and the eternal and enormous rollers that never ceased to tumble in. What caused these huge waves remained a mystery to me, for, after days of absolutely flat calm, without a breath of wind, they still came rolling in as majestically as ever. As a general rule, the little patch of smooth water that is to be found inside the protection of the breakwater, that exists at all the ports, is only deep enough for lighters and small craft generally, so the steamers anchor outside and land their passengers in boats. It is quite an exciting moment when the boat reaches the narrow entrance. The usual practice is to wait just outside the passage to the breakwater until three unusually heavy rollers have expended themselves. The three very large ones are invariably followed by a succession of small ones, advantage of which has to be taken at once, and a dash made for the entrance. Meanwhile, sea-birds of every sort and description are wheeling about in a cloudless sky or pursuing their prey in the bluest of seas, and the amiable sea-lions and sea-cows, and such like, loll about on the rocks all around and survey the scene with perfect placidity.
A very few days after our arrival, we started for the Pampas, to pay a round of visits to the different Nitrate establishments in which Morris was interested, and to give me an opportunity of learning something about theindustry before visiting, and reporting on, the Leonor, to which place I subsequently had to travel from Antofagasta, a port some little distance to the southward of Iquique. The first part of our journey was done on horseback, the place we were to visit being only some twenty miles from the coast. All the rest of our tour of inspection was done in a small special train, that had been placed at our disposal for that purpose by the courtesy of the Railway Authorities at Iquique.
We (our hostess and host, Morris and myself) started off one afternoon about four, so as to escape the great heat of mid-day, and arrived at our first halting-place in time for dinner after a most delightful ride. The next day, of course, was spent in inspecting the establishment, and, as far as I was concerned, in getting a more finished knowledge of the business. Thecaliche, as the stuff is called that is extracted by a species of surface mining, is put into crushers and subsequently boiled, the residue turning into a white powdery substance that is the nitrate of sodium required. There is nothing very mysterious about the business, the only real peculiarity of the nitrate fields is that, fortunately for the industry, rain is absolutely unknown there, for a couple of days’ heavy rain would wash all the sodium out of the ground, and the Pampas would then be a desert without the saving presence of an important industry. During the few days I was up in these parts I visited several establishments that were in the hands of English Companies; without exception they were completely run by young Englishmen. These youths,—for they were very little more,—were typical specimens of Public School boys, who, after being knocked into shape at a Public School, and only being possessed of limited private means, had started as clerks in the various business houses on the coast, and then, as soon as they were considered qualified, had been sent up country to assist in running anofficina. At some of these factories there were probably upwards of 600 workmen, mostly Chilénos, men who are of a really fine fighting race, and apt to be extremely turbulent. It made one feel proud of one’s countrymen, to see the admirable way that these young fellows handled their workmen. I fancy what tended more to preserve law and order than anything else, was the introduction of football, to which game the Chileans took very kindly; and when they realised what hard plucky men they were working under,—and nowhere, probably, are these qualities quicker detected than they are at football,—turbulent as they were by nature, and terribly inclined to be too ready with a revolver, it was extraordinary how little trouble they generally gave. One of the questions invariably asked by the visiting Directors was, whether the men had any complaint to make about their treatment by the employers, and whether they made any claim for an increase in wages. In every case that came under my notice the invariable answer was that there were no complaints, and this fact is fully corroborated by a Foreign Office dispatch that I read many months after I had returned to England.
In view of what happened a day or two afterwards, this absence of any apparent motive for trouble becomes a curious and interesting fact. That there hadbeen considerable labour difficulties recently, we knew as soon as we had arrived at Iquique. There had been a strike on the Nitrate Railway Works just before our arrival, but that had been settled, and there was a strike of stevedores at Iquique still in progress, when we left the coast for the Pampas, but as far as the labourers of the variousofficinasthat we hoped to visit, were concerned, we had no reason to suspect any mischief, and our first two or three visits of inspection were made in a time (apparently) of profound peace. It was somewhat of a surprise when, on the 14th of December, only three days after our arrival, it became extremely evident that a serious strike had begun in the Nitrate District, and that the sooner we got into our train and returned to the coast the better it would be,—the alternative being to be marooned in anofficina, where no work was going on, for an indefinite period. Luckily our little special was lying in a siding close by, and off we went just in time, for already the strikers had commenced their march on Iquique. Indeed within a very few hours after the time that our train had returned to that town, many hundreds of them (having very wisely come to the conclusion that marching through the Pampas in midsummer was exceedingly thirsty work), had seized what railway stock they could lay their hands on, and, as many as there was room for, made the journey to the coast by train.
Of course, as is the case in all strikes, in all countries, the usual ineffective promise of protection by soldiers and police was given to the many men who wished to go on with their extremely well-paid work, but thethreats and blows of the strikers proved far more effective than Government promises; the line of least resistance was duly taken, and the would-be workers joined the strike. As long as the strikers were on the Pampas they did not behave particularly badly; they did not in the least dislike the managers and staff at theofficinas, under whom they worked, and in no case, as far as I know, was any violence or ill-treatment extended to them during the time of their forced inactivity and species of imprisonment, while the railway was in the hands of the strikers; and when our train crawled slowly through them, stopping constantly to avoid accidents, they neither derailed it, nor attempted to take possession of it, either of which they could have easily done, and contented themselves with a certain amount of booing and hissing, which broke no bones. Naturally, any establishment that contained food or drink was at once looted, but beyond that next to nothing in the way of damage to property was attempted.
However, as may be readily imagined, the members of our little party were not sorry to be back on the coast again, to settle down at the Casa Clarke until events had arranged themselves. We had no sooner returned to Iquique on the evening of the 14th, before the news reached us that the strike had become general so far as the Nitrate Fields were concerned, and on the next day some 4000 men, apparently well organised, could be seen marching down from the hills towards the town. It was fairly evident by this time that there was going to be serious trouble, and it is not to be denied that the strike leaders, one of whom was said to be a well-known Spanish anarchist, had chosen their moment well. To begin with, the Intendente of the Province, Señor Carlos Eastman, was at Santiago, where he had gone to present his resignation to the President; the General commanding the district, General Silva Renard, and his second in command, were both away in Santiago, leaving the troops in temporary charge of a comparatively inexperienced officer, and he, like all temporary commanders, was extremely averse to taking the responsibility for decided measures; and, by way of making the list of absentees complete, the Prefect of Police was also in the Capital. In addition, as I have mentioned before, the stevedores were also out on strike, so one way and another the position was extremely unpleasant.
At first, the Acting Commandante of the Troops seemed as if he were disposed to enforce order, and when the first lot of strikers from the Pampas arrived in the vicinity of the town, they were headed off by troops to a camp that had been prepared for them on the race-course, and there seemed some prospect of the men returning to the Pampas in trains which the Nitrate Railway Company were very ready to place at their disposal.
Apparently this attitude was only a bluff, for what eventually happened was, (in spite of the assurances given by the Acting Commandante of the Troops and the Acting Intendente of the Province, that the strikers would be prevented from entering the town by the military), that on the next day, the 16th of December, the Pampas strikers, and the transport-workers strikers of the town, joined together, took complete chargeof the town, and stopped not only all traffic, but all work of every description, all the shops having been forced to close, and, meanwhile, reinforcements of strikers were hourly arriving from the Pampas, some on foot and others in trains that they had commandeered.
It is hardly necessary to say that, during these days, Reggie Morris and myself, living, as we were, at the English Consulate, knew from hour to hour what was going on, from our host, for we occasionally saw him when he came to his house to snatch a morsel of food. He displayed the greatest energy, and, had his advice been taken by the Authorities, in all probability a great deal of inconvenience, to say nothing of bloodshed, would have been saved. But whenever he requested the Acting Commandante to take certain measures with regard to the railway, which belonged to a British company, his proposals were invariably first accepted, and then never carried out, and when he attempted to confer with the Acting Intendente he was always informed that this great official was either too busy or else asleep, and referred to some one else, who was generally a lawyer interested in local politics.
For the inside of a week the town of Iquique was in a state of subdued chaos. Nothing happened; there were no tramways running, no cabs, no shops open, and, oddly enough, next to no disorder. The market was open for a short time in the morning, whither our intrepid hostess used daily to drive her pony cart, returning with the day’s provisions. There was absolutely nothing to do all day, and, judging from our ownfeelings, the inhabitants of Iquique must have been slowly dying of intense boredom. As for ourselves, except for an hour or two in the evening when we mounted our host’s ponies and went for a gallop down the coast and round the race-course, occupation we had none.
But meanwhile things were beginning to move at Santiago. Noel Clarke had been in constant telegraphic communication with Mr. Rennie, then the British Chargé des Affaires, and received at last the welcome intelligence that the real Intendente, Señor Carlos Eastman, accompanied by General Renard, were leaving Valparaiso in the Chilian warshipZenteno, with reinforcements of troops. Very shortly afterwards, another Chilian cruiser, theEsmeralda, arrived, but without the troops, that she was expected to bring.
Though there was but little actual disorder in the town, a number of the more respectable families began to get alarmed, principally owing to the panic-stricken attitude of their servants, a number of the women having taken refuge on board the merchant ships in the harbour. There was some cause for anxiety, the real danger being that of fire. A town like Iquique, largely built of wood, where rain is unknown, and where the water supply depends upon a pipe-line from the hills, is particularly open to danger of conflagration when in the hands of some thousands of strikers, many of whose pockets are known to be stuffed full of dynamite.
The only other amusement, besides the evening ride, was to attend the meetings held by the strikers. Spaniards of all shades are passionately fond of oratoryand of the sound of their own voices. I suppose the inherent beauty and sonority of their language fascinates them, and the speeches were endless. I, alas! have very little knowledge of Spanish, so did not understand much, but I gathered from those who knew the language that their eloquence was principally employed in condemning the Government, vituperating the employers, and, what was novel in Chile, preaching an anti-European doctrine.
However, the climax was approaching.
On the 19th, theZentenoarrived with Don Carlos Eastman, General Renard, and a welcome reinforcement in the shape of the O’Higgins Regiment.
The Intendente duly landed, the streets being lined with troops. All the strikers congregated to witness his arrival, their total number in the small town of Iquique being estimated at anything between 12,000 and 16,000 men.