MEMORIES 
 DISCREET & 
 INDISCREET 
 
 By 
 A WOMAN OF NO 
 IMPORTANCE 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 GET OF 
 
 Louisiana Scott Shuman 
 
i,' 
 
MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
MR. CHARLES I'AK.>i!,Li. 
 The last photograph taken of him 
 
MEMORIES 
 
 DISCREET AND 
 INDISCREET 
 
 BY 
 
 A WOMAN OF NO 
 IMPORTANCE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 
 68 1 Fifth Avenue 
 
TO THE MEMORY 
 
 OF THOSE WHO HAVE GONE 
 
 I WITH AFFECTION 
 
 DEDICATE MY BOOK 
 
 LOAN STACK 
 GIFT 
 
 PRINTED BV WM, BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND 
 
DA56S 
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 I HAVE many times been asked to write some of 
 my recollections and experiences. I fear there is 
 little of importance to recount of myself beyond the 
 fact that I have met many interesting people, and am 
 proud to have known some of the greatest empire and 
 history makers of the century. 
 
 Taking a bird's-eye view of my life as far as it has 
 gone, what stands out pre-eminently is the number and 
 kindness of my friends. In this world of hurry, where 
 we are all either hastening into or out of it, sometimes 
 it is pleasant to recall, and metaphorically sit down and 
 converse with our friends of the past. 
 
 A Woman of No Importance. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. Early Memories 
 
 II. A Secret Engagement . 
 
 III. The Serbian Tragedy . 
 
 IV. A Cardinal and a Canal 
 V. India and Some Generals 
 
 VI. Stories from Majuba 
 
 VII. Two Great Soldiers 
 
 VIII. The Afghan War 
 
 IX. Bay Middleton . 
 
 X. The Prince's Button-hole 
 
 XI. Sir Donald Stewart 
 
 XII. Off to Egypt 
 
 XIII. Lord Kitchener 
 
 XIV. Some Egyptian Experiences 
 XV. Some Generals and Battles 
 
 XVI. Lord Cromer and Sir Gerald Portal 
 
 XVII. A War Correspondent's Stories 
 
 XVIII. The Tennysons and Others 
 
 XIX. Mr. James Lowther 
 
 XX. Victorian Worthies 
 
 XXI. Lord Roberts . 
 
 XXII. A Mixed Bag . 
 
 PAGE 
 II 
 
 31 
 
 44 
 61 
 71 
 83 
 98 
 
 114 
 139 
 148 
 165 
 180 
 196 
 211 
 224 
 
 235 
 250 
 265 
 283 
 295 
 313 
 327 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 NTr. Charles Parneli, (the last photograph taken of him) 
 
 Frontisftiece 
 
 TO FACE PAGE 
 
 Lady Lina and Lauy May Ci-kmenis (now Lady Lina Lyndon and 
 
 Lady May Mostyn) .... 
 
 Lord Kenyon ..... 
 
 Mrs. Violet Tweedale at Queen Draga's Grave 
 Sir John Evvart ..... 
 Sir Ian Hamilton ..... 
 Lady Ian Hamilton ..... 
 General Sir Charles Douglas 
 
 Lady Douglas ..... 
 
 Sir John Ardagh ..... 
 SosAN, Countess of Malmksbury — Lady Ardagh 
 Lord Cromer ..... 
 
 Sir Gerald Portal (in dress presented to him by King ot Abyssinia) 
 Mr. Melton Prior ..... 
 Sir Edward Bradford .... 
 
 Sir Nevili.i: Chamberlain .... 
 General Cecil Park .... 
 
 14 
 
 14 
 
 50 
 
 76 
 
 88 
 
 96 
 
 102 
 
 106 
 
 226 
 
 230 
 
 236 
 
 240 
 
 250 
 
 300 
 
 314 
 
 320 
 
MEMORIES DISCREET 
 AND INDISCREET 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 EARLY MEMORIES 
 
 Early Childhood — Scene in Church — The Rev. and Hon. Francis 
 Clements — His Daughters and I Invent a Sermon — I Preach it — 
 The Rev. William Gooch, Canon of York — His Coach and Four 
 — Mad Hatter Era — An Economical Friend Shares his Hat with a 
 Scarecrow — The Muffin-girl Fined — Who Paid the Fine ? — Another 
 Eccentric Who Spent His Time in Bed — Lord Kenyon as Chorister 
 — The Snuff-taking Marquess of Londonderry — A Ride on His 
 Back — The Duchess of Teck and " My Little Girl " — I Appear as a 
 Brilliant Scholar — Mr. Christopher Sykes and His Valet at Sand- 
 ringham — The Valet's Advice to the Prince of Wales — To a nouveau- 
 riche — Helps a Favourite — The Hambros of Steephill Castle — 
 Their Son's Mysterious Death — The Monson Trial — The Captain — 
 Lord Suffield Goes to Market — Captain Cowper-Coles — His Gal- 
 lantry — ^The Fate of His Invention. 
 
 I FEEL I should like to begin this book with 
 '' once upon a time/' as I used to start the 
 stories I began but never finished in my early 
 childhood. 
 
 Some of my farthest-reaching recollections are in 
 connection with my spiritual welfare, which appeared 
 to be of absorbing interest to quite a number of 
 people. Part of the Sunday discipline consisted of my 
 being taken when a very small person to church in a 
 much-starched and exceedingly stiff frock, tight in 
 the arm-holes, and in every way uncomfortable. In 
 this garb I was expected to sit still during the long, 
 tedious service. One Sunday this got upon my nerves, 
 and while the clergyman in a black robe preached a 
 long sermon from a three-decker pulpit, giving his 
 
 II 
 
12 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 congregation to understand they were all doomed to 
 everlasting torture, the deliverer of this unsporting 
 harangue turned round, pointing his finger at the part 
 of the church where I happened to be. Thinking this 
 a personal matter and somebody dropping a book at 
 the exact moment I gave a loud scream, then, fright- 
 ened at the result of my breakdown, I burst into tears. 
 My father peered at me over the top of his spectacles 
 with interrogating eyes, the congregation stared, and 
 my mother's face grew long, foreboding trouble in the 
 near future. 
 
 On another occasion when staying with some 
 friends a few miles from home, I was asked by my 
 host, a clergyman, if I could tell him what his sermon 
 had been about that morning in church. I had not 
 the faintest idea, but remembered the name of Jehovah 
 being mentioned several times, so suggested that was 
 the subject of his sermon, only to be told he feared 
 I could not have been attending. I was put down 
 from his knee and told to try to remember. His 
 two daughters were then called and asked the same 
 question. They too were unable to tell their parent 
 anything about it, so we were all bundled off to the 
 schoolroom to remember and return when we had 
 recalled it. 
 
 The Rev. and Hon. Francis Clements was the 
 preacher on this last occasion, at that time Rector of Nor- 
 ton, near Stockton-on-Tees. His two youngest daughters 
 were somewhere about the same age as my sister and 
 I, and were among our most intimate play-fellows. 
 At that time Mr. Clements' elder brother, the third 
 Earl of Leitrim, was alive but had no heir ; it will be 
 remembered he was murdered, and our friend's son 
 Robert became the fourth Earl, and his sisters were 
 granted the rank and precedence of earl's daughters, 
 so our playmates became Lady Selina and Lady 
 May. 
 
 In the schoolroom we found the governess, who told 
 us the text, and we three girls between us invented 
 what we thought a choice and telling sermon. We all 
 
EARLY MEMORIES 13 
 
 agreed to preach the same, feehng Mr. Clements could 
 hardly stick to his version with three of us against him, 
 so quite gaily we set off to find him. The ruse was a 
 failure as our host had his own ideas on the value of 
 evidence. 
 
 I always enjoyed my visits to the Clements. My 
 two young friends of those days are now Lady Selina 
 Lyndon and Lady May Mostyn. 
 
 I have heard people speak of their childhood as the 
 happiest time of their lives. Mine certainly was not ; 
 I was always in trouble with my mother and gover- 
 nesses, being much too fond of the open air, horses 
 and dogs, for which I confess I was apt to neglect my 
 lessons, also at times upset the household by being 
 unpunctual, thereby causing ructions. 
 
 My people lived in Yorkshire, and there it was most 
 of my childhood was spent. My father was a good 
 shot and keen fisherman, spending most of his time 
 on his own property, attending magistrates' meetings 
 and useful country-side things of that kind, having 
 by profession been called to the Bar. 
 
 My mother was the daughter of one of the old 
 school of dignified, sporting parsons. I remember the 
 awe he inspired in us children ; he was very handsome, 
 tall, well-built and pompous to a degree. He lived 
 in great state, driving about the country, to York to 
 stay at Bishopthorpe, to Wynyard to stay with the 
 Londonderrys, in fact wherever he went it was in his 
 coach and four. He was rather a pretty whip, I 
 remember. We were almost as much in awe of his 
 valet, without whom he never moved, as of him. 
 The valet also was a very pompous and imposing 
 person who gave everybody to understand he had 
 always lived amongst the ** hupper circles." 
 
 There were four of us children. My grandfather on 
 my father's side, who was a very rich old man, had 
 informed his son that if there were more than four 
 children he would be unable to leave them fortunes ; 
 so four there were and no more. I am one of them and 
 named after an old maiden great-aunt, who it was 
 
14 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 believed would leave me her money, which, by the 
 way, nearly miscarried, for she one day heard someone 
 speak of me by a pet name instead of by hers, so she 
 said under the circumstances she would leave her 
 money to her maid : but a kind friend of the family 
 put matters straight by talking incessantly of me by 
 the name she knew and approved and by advising my 
 people to take me over at intervals and to be sure and 
 call me by my formal name before the old lady. This 
 was done, and I remember being given pieces of sugar 
 to eat, taken from between the bars of the canary 
 bird's-cage ; and when in an extra fit of economy and 
 saving, which was one of her characteristics, she, 
 during her maid's absence, tried to put out her bed- 
 room fire, which she considered extravagantly large, 
 and in so doing set fire to herself and was burnt to 
 death, she left some of her money to me ! 
 
 Eccentricity was fashionable in those days. It was 
 in fact the last quarter of the Mad Hatter Era. Just 
 as ladies fainted at the slightest provocation, so men 
 allowed themselves to develop oddities of character 
 with the utmost complacency, and my relations were 
 no exception to the prevailing fashion. In our part 
 of Yorkshire, all had a leaning towards the weirdest 
 forms of economy, while occasionally bursting forth 
 into unnecessary extravagance. My father would be 
 seriously worried if we came home from the station by 
 the best road, and the shortest by a mile, because there 
 was a turnpike and sixpence per horse to pay, but 
 would think nothing of spending a hundred pounds 
 on a bracelet that my mother did not want. 
 
 It was very funny the way my father used to 
 adjudicate on the bench. Having been a barrister he 
 knew more law than most of his fellow magistrates, 
 and I have always heard he was extremely just, but 
 when off the seat of justice his heart would relent 
 towards some of the culprits he had punished. There 
 was a little muffin-girl who used to tramp about the 
 country from house to house ostensibly selling muffins, 
 but often combining it with helping herself to what- 
 
EARLY MEMORIES 15 
 
 ever she could lay her hands on while the servants 
 were busy. She was good-looking and had a winsome 
 manner, but was perpetually being brought up for 
 stealing. On one occasion she had been ordered to pay 
 a fine of half a crown. The young woman, who 
 thoroughly understood her business, wept and declared 
 that was all she had made during the week after 
 walking miles. The bench was relentless, but while 
 driving home my father passed the girl tramping the 
 high road without shoes or stockings, so he stopped 
 the family omnibus in which he always attended 
 magistrates' meetings, gave her a lift and presented 
 her with half a crown ! 
 
 A neighbour of ours living at Acklam Hall, a Mr. 
 Hustler, was a prince of eccentrics. First of all he 
 made a romantic match by running away with a girl 
 from school and marrying her. He then settled down 
 on his estate, where he would retire to bed for weeks 
 and months at a time, his only amusement being 
 keeping his accounts and seeing how he could cut down 
 expenses, although he was a rich man. At long 
 intervals he would surprise the country-side by 
 blossoming forth pink and exotic-looking from his hot- 
 house treatment, and go to church, or perhaps a 
 magistrates' meeting. During his retirement all that 
 was ever seen of him was an occasional vision of pink 
 legs flying past the banisters on the landing while 
 people were calling on his wife. He was very curious 
 to know who the callers were, so as soon as the front- 
 door bell rang, he would pop out of bed and take a 
 fleeting glance at them from the top of the stairs. 
 
 Another eccentric was a man called Rudd, an old 
 bachelor who ran away when anybody looked at him. 
 Although well off and living on a snug little property 
 of his own he never allowed tradesmen to call for 
 orders nor would he allow his servants to make any 
 purchases. Once a week he would sally forth about 
 dark with a large market-basket on his arm and buy 
 provisions. My father loved to tease the poor little 
 man, who was really rather clever, and elected to live 
 
i6 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 undisturbed among his books. Father would say, 
 " Jacky, it is not good for you burying yourself like 
 this; I shall come and see you/' Jacky, who stood 
 about four foot nothing and had several angry- 
 looking bristles growing from the end of his nose, 
 would then become furious and splutter that he did not 
 want to see anyone, that he would padlock his gate, 
 and so on. My father would continue to tease him, 
 saying he would climb the gate, Jacky taking it all 
 quite seriously and foaming with rage. He was very 
 short-sighted, wore huge goggles and a hat two sizes 
 too large for him, which latter he actually shared with 
 the scarecrow in the garden. 
 
 In those days families emigrated en masse in the 
 summer to some near seaside place while the hay- 
 making was in progress. We went regularly to Redcar, 
 where there was excellent bathing : and a great gather- 
 ing we used to be of friends and relations, amongst 
 them a number of amusing Rivett-Carnacs, Agnes de 
 Crespigny, sister of the present Sir Claude, the well- 
 known sportsman ; Lloyd Kenyon, then a delicate 
 little boy, who sang in the choir and looked very good, 
 now A.D.C. to King George and formerly Lord in 
 Waiting to Queen Victoria ; besides other friends too 
 numerous to mention. 
 
 I remember seeing Lord Kenyon in his cassock 
 looking like a cherub in the church choir at Coatham 
 (which is a suburb of Redcar), little boys in front, 
 big boys behind, then the clergy. Lloyd's mother was 
 delightful and I was fond of her. She was very High 
 Church and a really good woman, most anxious to 
 bring up her son in the way he should go, and he was 
 a very devout little boy ; I remember his crying one 
 evening because his mother told him to stay and play 
 with us instead of going to evensong. 
 
 Being an only son his mother feared his being spoilt, 
 so Agnes de Crespigny used to stay with her for 
 months at a time as playmate for him, and all of them 
 used to stay with us a great deal. Agnes, by the way, 
 married the vicar of Coatham Church in later years, and 
 
EARLY MEMORIES 17 
 
 I saw a short time ago that she has to mourn the loss 
 of her son in this ghastly war. 
 
 Those were the days of long journeys, and anxieties 
 arising from the fear that the roads might be im- 
 passable, which in the winter was by no means 
 uncommon. One winter, when the roads were covered 
 with snow, we were hoping to go to stay at Wynyard 
 for a children's ball. First we were told it would be 
 impossible to drive the twenty-five miles : I think that 
 was the distance. Later we heard that our father meant 
 to try. 
 
 By dint of frost nails in the horses' shoes we reached 
 Wynyard after an exciting drive over very slippery 
 roads with a pair of spirited black Irish horses. My 
 sister caught cold on the journey and had to go to bed 
 instead of enjoying herself, which spoilt my pleasure 
 to a great extent. This visit has always remained 
 impressed on my memory for two reasons, the first 
 being while we were playing hide-and-seek Lady 
 Averina Vane-Tempest fainted, and never having seen 
 anybody faint, I thought she was dead. This terrified 
 me, but I could then understand her governess's 
 anxiety all the time she was playing, for fear she 
 should get too hot or over-exert herself. 
 
 The next thing that makes it memorable was that 
 I experienced one of the proudest moments of my life 
 one day at luncheon. It must be remembered these 
 were the days when children were suppressed, to be 
 seen and not heard. It happened this way : at 
 luncheon we were all obliged to speak French as Lady 
 Londonderry thought it good practice for everybody. 
 She was telling us to be sure and feed the birds during 
 the frosty weather, then wishing to say something 
 about the sparrows and not being able to remember 
 the French for that particular bird, addressed herself 
 to the table generally and asked for help. Nobody 
 knew. Lady Averina's governess got red in the face 
 and said she knew quite well, but for the moment had 
 forgotten. It so happened that one of the last exercises 
 I had done before leaving home had included the word 
 
i8 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 sparrow, so frightened at my own daring I said, 
 ''*Moineau' is the French for * sparrow,''' in con- 
 sequence of which astounding knowledge I was con- 
 sidered a clever child, profound scholar and brilHant 
 personage. 
 
 Another great occasion at Wynyard was when 
 Princess Mary of Teck was staying there and a big ball 
 was given in honour of the occasion. I, in company 
 with the rest of the young people staying in the 
 house, was allowed to watch all the big-wigs march in 
 to dinner, after which we were carried off to be decked 
 out in beautiful sashes, silk stockings, and all the rest 
 of a full-dress evening toilet. Then we had to sit still 
 until we were sent for to go down to dessert. The wait 
 seemed interminable, but at last we were summoned 
 and, walking like well-bred ducks in single file, 
 followed the beautiful footman with powdered hair, he 
 glancing at himself in all the long mirrors he passed to 
 see if his silk stockings were braced up enough or if 
 any of the powder had fallen on to his well-fitting 
 livery. 
 
 In the dining-room we all made profound curtsies. 
 We were then assisted on to high stools beside our host 
 and hostess. My place was near Lord Londonderry, 
 who heaped all sorts of good things on my plate until 
 the Duchess of Teck laughingly said I should be ill if 
 I ate them all. I could not help staring at the Duchess. 
 She had such a sweet, good-tempered face, and when 
 she asked me if it was not my bed-time and said her 
 little girl (our present Queen Mary) went to bed much 
 earlier, I wriggled off my stool, made another curtsy, 
 and replied, ** Yes, madam, I generally go to bed at 
 half-past eight, but this is a great treat." I then tried 
 to scramble on to my high stool again, and was 
 dismayed to find every time I tried to do so, it 
 endeavoured to fall on top of me, so I had to be 
 lifted up by Lord Londonderry. No sooner was I 
 seated than the ladies left the dining-room, and I had 
 no time to eat my good things. I suppose I was 
 looking ruefully at them when Lord Londonderry 
 
EARLY MEMORIES 19 
 
 lifted up my frock, popped into it a bunch of grapes 
 and a dish of chocolates, telHng me, with a pat on my 
 shoulder, to put them under my pillow. The others 
 had consumed their good things on the premises, I was 
 the only lucky one with something for under my 
 pillow. 
 
 I am speaking of the 5th Marquess of Londonderry, 
 at one time Vice-Commodore of the Yacht Squadron. 
 I think yachting and snuff were his two greatest 
 pleasures in life. It was quite fashionable in those 
 days to take snuff, and I remember once when he was 
 carrying me downstairs on his back his taking some 
 which made me sneeze violently. I was afraid to take 
 my arm from round his neck so spluttered over his 
 back hair, much to his amusement. He said it served 
 him right. A most hospitable host, a very rich man 
 and a great personage, yet simple and accessible to all. 
 He employed a vast number of labourers in his mines 
 and quarries. At that time I remember seeing his 
 name on railway trucks, but do not remember in his 
 life seeing it on the coal carts and lorries in London. 
 That became the fashion in the late Lord London- 
 derry's time, the 6th Marquess. 
 
 Mr. Christopher Sykes, of Brantingham Thorpe, a 
 well-known Yorkshire landowner, whose finances were 
 not equal to the strain he put upon them while enter- 
 taining Royalty, had a valet who gives a funny story 
 relating to the Londonderrys, at least his way of 
 telHng it was funny. The valet's name was Girton, 
 and when Mr. Sykes came to the end of his tether he 
 gave his servant a letter that would have carried him 
 anywhere, a really kindly and first-rate recommenda- 
 tion. Girton had made some money if his master had 
 not, and he eventually became the proprietor of a 
 large private hotel, never mind which, but it was much 
 on the lines of the great Brown's in Albemarle Street. 
 Girton, being almost as well known in society as Mr. 
 Sykes himself, was not long in collecting a clientele, 
 who used to love drawing him and hearing some of his 
 astounding accounts of proceedings in which he had 
 
20 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 either taken part or been a witness during his Hfe 
 amongst the famiUes in which he had served. One of 
 the stories he was very fond of telling was when 
 staying at Sandringham with Mr. Sykes, while a big 
 shoot was going on. Either when walking up, or 
 in covert, I forget which, Mr. Sykes, anxious that the 
 Prince should hear some of Girton's humour, sent for 
 him, at any rate this is Girton's story. 
 
 The Prince : '' Oh, Girton, Londonderry has invited 
 me and the Princess to see his place at Wynyard, and 
 I have never been there." 
 
 Girton : '' Then you should lose no chance, your 
 Royal Tghness.'' 
 
 The Prince : '' We intend going, Girton. How do 
 you think we ought to get there, you know Yorkshire 
 so well.'' 
 
 Girton : '' Well, your Royal Tghness, there are two 
 ways. Yes, there are two ways, one is to go all the 
 way by train, but if you asks for popularity, I says get 
 out at Middlesborough, you and the Princess. From 
 there in an open carriage you and the Princess go right 
 away to Wynyard, you could not do better. It's a 'ot 
 bed of radicalism, but when they see you among 'em 
 it will be a 'ot bed of conservatism." 
 
 Another story of Girton's that has never been given 
 to the public before. 
 
 A certain nouveau-riche had been invited to dine 
 with Mr. Sykes to meet the Prince of Wales, who had 
 approved the name on the list submitted for his Royal 
 pleasure. 
 
 The gentleman of great and lately acquired wealth 
 was feeling full of importance though a trifle nervous, 
 not knowing exactly the usual procedure on such 
 occasions. At Doncaster the day before the dinner he 
 chanced to see the great Girton putting a few sovereigns 
 on a horse he had heard Mr. Jim Lowther say would be 
 sure to win, so walking up to him said, '' Good day, 
 Girton. I am dining at your place to-morrow to meet 
 the Prince of Wales; you are more accustomed to 
 Royalties thaji I am, tell me what is the proper thing 
 
EARLY MEMORIES 21 
 
 to do ? Should I walk up to the Prince and say ' How 
 do you do ' ? or wait for him to speak to me ? or ought 
 I to go down on one knee ? " 
 
 Girton : " Well, Sir, I hought to know all about these 
 things by now, but they requires great delicacy, — yes, 
 great delicacy/' 
 
 Nouveau-riche : '* Yes ! of course I know all that, 
 but tell me, do I shake hands or bow ? " 
 
 Girton: ** That, Sir, depends on circumstances. You 
 will be introduced to his Royal Tghness, he may hold 
 out 'is 'and, in which case you takes it gentle like, if not, 
 you bow like this," here Girton laid his arm across his 
 middle and bowed low over it. ** And you never sits 
 down unless the Prince says you may." 
 
 Nouveau-riche : '* What ! should I have to stand all 
 the evening if not given leave to sit down ? " 
 
 Girton (in superior manner) : '' That is so, many 
 people stand all day." 
 
 Nouveau-riche : " But look here, Girton, how could I 
 eat my dinner standing up all the time ? and would 
 not the others think it looked as if the Prince did not 
 like me, if he told the others to sit down and not me ? " 
 
 Girton {with a lofty smile) : *' I should not worry 
 myself. Sir, if I was you, it will come quite natural- 
 like when the time comes ; his Tghness will say very 
 quietly, ' Pray be seated,' and everything will go on 
 quite ordinary." 
 
 I have been told the Prince's manner and. way of 
 speaking was copied exactly. 
 
 It was amusing the way this valet took all under 
 his wing who visited his master, provided they were 
 liberal enough to him. Mr. Sykes said, *' Girton 
 makes great favourites." One of these favourites was 
 a certain well-known sporting baronet living in the 
 same county as his master, who, when tired of home 
 life, would tell his wife he was going to buy horses, and 
 then go and entertain some of his theatrical friends at 
 a seaside place not very far away. 
 
 During one of these jaunts Girton and his master 
 were staying in the same hotel, and while passing the 
 
22 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 rooms occupied by the sportsman and his friends, none 
 of whom were yet up though it was 12.30 midday, 
 he saw at the end of the landing the baronet's wife 
 
 asking the number of the room occupied by Sir , 
 
 and the simple chambermaid gave the number — 17. 
 
 Girton grasped the situation in a moment and 
 
 asked Lady if he could help her to find the room 
 
 she wanted. She told him she wanted her husband's 
 room, No. 17. 
 
 They were standing almost opposite the door at the 
 time. Without a blush Girton said, " I think it is 
 
 117 that Sir is occupying, on the other landing ; 
 
 allow me to show your ladyship the way." Having 
 guided her to the door of 117 he fled back to 17 and 
 informed the occupant his wife was looking for him. 
 
 Meanwhile Lady had entered 117, and seeing a 
 
 rolled-up figure in the bed evidently fast asleep, who 
 took no notice of her wrathful expressions, she pulled 
 the clothes down from the individuaFs head to find it 
 was a man she knew quite well in the 3rd Dragoon 
 Guards ! sleeping off a late night. Thinking it was 
 his soldier-servant trying to awaken him he used strong 
 language ! 
 
 Girton used after the fashion of servants always to 
 speak of '' me and the governor," meaning, of course, 
 Mr. Sykes, his master. Some of his stories, which 
 became well known from his constant repetition, were 
 distinctly interesting, not to say frisky, but no good 
 purpose would now be served by recalling them, 
 dealing as they did with most of the country-side in 
 Yorkshire and, indeed, elsewhere also. 
 
 But to return to my youth. My governess un- 
 doubtedly found me a tiresome child, and regarded 
 me with despair. Once when my sister and I had 
 been told to prepare a map of Europe for the following 
 morning, and mine was presented for criticism, I was 
 told I must do it again. My sister then presented hers. 
 There was a silence for a moment, and I looked up to 
 see what was the cause. Our governess was pointing 
 her finger to some sketches down the side of the map. 
 
EARLY MEMORIES 23 
 
 and then asked, ** And pray, what may this be ? '' 
 It looked Hke a big bird eating something. '' Oh/' 
 repHed my sister, '* that is Turkey gobbhng up Greece/' 
 The Turkey was a fairly faithful likeness of the farm- 
 yard bird, the Greece I did not recognise until it was 
 further explained it was meant to represent a candle. 
 Miss Chevallier, our governess at that time, unfortu- 
 nately dechned to stay with '' such a little devil," the 
 devil being poor me. She left in a cloud of dust one 
 day after an encounter with me. It happened after 
 this wise. I observed one evening at tea in the school- 
 room that she was not eating anything, so out of the 
 kindness of my heart, asked her if there was anything 
 else she would like better than what had been pro- 
 vided. She said yes, she thought she would like an 
 egg, so I got up from my seat preparing to ring the 
 bell, but was seized by the arm and told to sit down 
 again, it was not for little girls to ring bells, she was 
 mistress in the schoolroom. This was a new rule to 
 me, hitherto I had always rung the bell for anything 
 I wanted, and I resented this new order, so escaped 
 from her, making a dash for the bell. So did 'she. 
 Between us, not only did we ring a peal that brought 
 most of the household to see what had happened, but 
 we pulled the bell bodily out of the wall, covering 
 ourselves with plaster and torn paper, as well as the 
 heavy bell-pull, which consisted of a wide piece of 
 woolwork, over which I believe a great-grandmother 
 had many times pricked her fingers. By this time my 
 mother and several servants had come to see what was 
 the matter. Miss Chevalher hastened to say it was all 
 my fault and insubordination. This I did not con- 
 sider fair, so without further parleying I dashed at 
 her, pulled the glasses off her nose, threw them on the 
 ground, broke a gold chain round her neck, and pulled 
 off a black silk apron she always wore. Before I could 
 cause her any disfigurement I was marched off protest- 
 ing to my bedroom, and locked in, being told I should 
 stay there until I was sorry. My contrition took some 
 days before it shaped itself into a form possible of 
 
24 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 expression. I really was sorry about the gold chain, 
 because it had belonged to her dead mother, so I said 
 I was grieved about that, but for the rest it served her 
 right, and she was a sneak, unjust and untruthful, 
 after which I saw her no more. My sister took an 
 early opportunity to creep in and tell me the omnibus 
 we used for station work, and for shooting, had been 
 ordered to take her to the station. 
 
 After being a prisoner for some days, and while 
 everybody was out, my father came to see me, and 
 said it made him miserable my being in trouble, and 
 he wished I would say I was sorry. That settled it. 
 I said I was sorry I had caused so much trouble and 
 sent word to that effect to my mother, after which I 
 was allowed to mix with the household once more. 
 
 I was not a strong child and very highly strung, 
 which nobody seemed to realise, the consequence was 
 I was often in the doctor's hands. Our county doctor 
 was a gentle and clever little man who knew what two 
 and two make without being told. He usually ordered 
 plenty of fresh air and exercise. This kind doctor 
 used to amuse us when we were children with his 
 quaint way of expressing himself and his nervous 
 manner. He would say, for instance, while washing 
 
 his hands in invisible soap and water, '' Miss X 
 
 should run a little, and drink some sherry wine.'' 
 Another peculiarity was the way he always made 
 almost unconsciously for a looking-glass the moment 
 he entered a room, and while talking earnestly about 
 his patient's diaphragm, or whatever might be out of 
 order, would stand in front of the glass tweaking his 
 hair into the most becoming lines, finally giving a little 
 lilt to some locks near his ears, which gave him quite 
 a frisky appearance. Like many clever people he had 
 grown through his hair at the top. 
 
 A day came at last when running a little and drink- 
 ing sherry wine no longer took effect, and I was 
 ordered to Ventnor for the winter. During those 
 months we saw a good deal of the Hambros and 
 Verners of Steephill Castle. They were a big party 
 
EARLY MEMORIES 25 
 
 of young people, being two families really, as Mrs. 
 Hambro of Steephill was a widow with a family of 
 her own when she was wooed and won by Colonel 
 Verner, who likewise had a family of his own, and 
 during that winter most of them were at home. Steep- 
 hill is a charming place standing in secluded grounds 
 with a good sea view on one side of it. It was there 
 while gathering primroses in the woods near the 
 house I saw for the first and last time in my life a jet- 
 black viper, very handsome but sinister-looking. I do 
 not wish to see another, they are quite uncanny. 
 
 Dudley Hambro, the heir to Steephill Castle, was 
 a very handsome young man, at that time unmarried, 
 but later he married and settled down in the Isle of 
 Wight. It was his eldest son who met his death under 
 such mysterious circumstances while staying with the 
 Alfred Monsons, who were renting Ardlamont in 
 Argyllshire, resulting in the trial of Mr. Monson, the 
 verdict being *' non proven." 
 
 The story was a terrible one, involving certain 
 moneys and a strange accident in a boat by which 
 young Hambro nearly lost his life. The unfortunate 
 boy escaped only to die by a gunshot wound while out 
 shooting a day or two later, the question being whether 
 it was an accident or not. 
 
 For years afterwards on the anniversary of his death, 
 his mother used to insert a memoriam in the Morning 
 Post followed by *' Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord." 
 
 Added to this awful sorrow Mr. Hambro 's finances 
 went wrong and the Castle passed, I believe, into other 
 hands and I knew it no more. 
 
 There were quite a number of interesting people 
 that winter at Ventnor, the late Lord Suffield, King 
 Edward's great friend, and large family party. Lord 
 Suffield used to ride about on a thick-set cob, looking 
 exactly like a jolly old farmer and quite regardless of 
 appearances, his clothes giving the impression they 
 had come out of the rag-bag : his short coat-tails 
 bulging out each side of him with parcels he had 
 brought from the town where he had been to market. 
 
26 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Once I saw a lobster claw sticking out of one of his 
 pockets. He used to discuss finance or the lack of it 
 with my father, who was supposed to be lucky with 
 his investments. I gathered from the scraps of con- 
 versation not meant for me to hear that Lord Suf- 
 field found a large family very expensive combined 
 with heavy expenditure entailed by his position at 
 Court. Notwithstanding this he appeared very cheery 
 and pretended to drive me, holding my hair like 
 reins and telling me to *' Gee-up.'' Lady Sufheld (his 
 first wife) was always smart and much more stiff than 
 her husband. 
 
 Then there were the Alfred Pagets with a bevy of 
 daughters. When the whole family were at church 
 they filled one pew to overflowing and part of another. 
 Lady Alfred was not strong and unable to go out 
 much ; it was for her health that they were at Vent- 
 nor. The children all promised to be tall and had 
 their father's dark hair and eyes. 
 
 One Sunday when I was growing stronger and 
 sitting with my father basking in the sun on the 
 esplanade. Lord Alfred came up to talk to my parent 
 and sat down on the same seat, tipping his hat over his 
 eyes and stretching his long legs out comfortably. 
 
 At first I thought their conversation dull, but after 
 a while it improved. I did not understand all the jokes, 
 but some of the stories were very funny — one about 
 a pet abhorrence of Lord Alfred's (a lady who after- 
 wards wrote a remarkable book about all the people 
 of her day) was perplexing, and I suppose I must 
 have been looking puzzled, for my father, who was 
 evidently greatly entertained, suddenly told me to 
 '' run away and play," quite forgetting in his anxiety 
 to get rid of me that I was still rather an invalid and 
 unable to do so. 
 
 I have since then found the explanation of some of 
 the stories that I did not understand at the time. I 
 remember even then I was interested and asked to be 
 allowed to stay. Lord Alfred laughed, and said to my 
 father, " She is a promising young lady," but I had 
 
EARLY MEMORIES 27 
 
 to make myself scarce, so wandered off to another 
 seat, where a pal of mine. Lord Lumley, who was also 
 an invalid, was sunning himself. We used to confide 
 in one another, and while he told me what hard lines 
 it was having to work when feeling so ill, I used to 
 count the freckles on his nose. The poor boy was 
 dying of consumption, and alone with a tutor who 
 I think did not realise how ill he was, and expected 
 him to do more than he had strength for. He died 
 a few months later, much to the surprise and grief of 
 his parents. 
 
 Ventnor reminds me that we were there in 1870 
 when the Cowper-Coles were also staying there amongst 
 other friends. Captain Cowper-Coles was the inventor 
 of the six-gun turret ship Captain, which aroused 
 great interest at the time, as it was to revolutionise 
 naval construction and perform wonders. The founder- 
 ing of the Captain while on a trial trip on September 
 7th, 1870, was regarded as a national calamity and 
 threw a deep gloom over us all. My father and I 
 crossed over to the Isle of Wight with Captain Cowper- 
 Coles shortly before the accident, and I remember 
 quite well watching the fragile-looking little man with 
 his then fashionable side- whiskers, sitting huddled up 
 in the lee of the funnel telling my father of his hopes 
 and fears, of all the wonderful things his ship was to 
 do for England. He was such a dear little man, and 
 his enthusiasm was so good to see, that it gave the 
 subsequent tragedy almost a personal note for us. 
 
 We were all so sorry for Mrs. Cowper-Coles, as it 
 seemed so hard that in addition to losing a good and 
 devoted husband, the cup of fame should have been 
 dashed from their lips at the eleventh hour. She was 
 a very brave and clever woman and did the best she 
 could for her young family after the cruel blow. 
 
 The Captain was commanded by Captain Burgoyne, 
 a son of Field-Marshal Burgoyne, and had a crew of 
 five hundred men. At the time it happened she was 
 out with the squadron, which was formed into three 
 divisions : the Lord Warden (the flagship), the Mino- 
 
28 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 taur, and Agincourt leading, the Captain came last of 
 the line. Towards night the weather became very 
 rough with wind and rain. About one o'clock the 
 Captain was observed by Admiral Milner, on the Lord 
 Warden, to be heeling over a good deal to starboard. 
 She was being carefully watched, this being practically 
 her trial trip. Looking again a little later the Admiral 
 could see nothing of the Captain, but attributed it to 
 the weather, the mist and rain probably preventing 
 the lights being seen. The storm subsided a little 
 towards morning and the squadron were scattered; 
 now instead of eleven ships, only ten could be seen, 
 the missing one being the Captain. Search was made 
 everywhere, but there was not a sign of her. Later 
 some wreckage was picked up and the body of a sea- 
 man from the Captain, leaving no longer any doubt 
 of what had happened, namely, she had foundered in 
 one of the heavy squalls in the early part of the morn- 
 ing The new turret ship and its inventor had gone, 
 never to be seen any more, and all on board perished 
 except twenty of the crew who were rescued. Amongst 
 the dead was a son of Mr. Childers and a number of 
 visitors who had been interested in the new invention 
 and invited on board. 
 
 As far as I can remember the account given by the 
 survivors of this disaster gave very little infolftnation 
 beyond the fact that it all happened so quickly there 
 was hardly time to know what had occurred, why or 
 how, except that first she heeled over, and then in a 
 few minutes turned completely over and disappeared ; 
 the driving rain and the fierce wind mingling with the 
 noise of the steam roaring from the boilers still forcing 
 upwards and out-screaming the elements was not to 
 be forgotten by the few left to tell the tale. 
 
 The career of this unfortunate inventor is interest- 
 ing. He served as midshipman under Admiral Lord 
 Lyon in the Mediterranean and distinguished himself 
 at the sea attack on the defences of Sebastopol, earning 
 praise from Sir Edward Lyon, who said, '' Captain Coles' 
 gallantry was the means of saving the Sanspareil/' 
 
EARLY MEMORIES 29 
 
 This is what happened as nearly as I can remember 
 from what I have been told by his people. 
 
 The Agamemnon and Sanspareil were alone, and 
 being fired on continuously by the enemy from Fort 
 Constantine, Mr. Coles — but I suppose I should call 
 him Lieutenant Coles — seeing how harassed these ships 
 were, volunteered to take an order to Lord George 
 Paulet, which was effected at great personal risk, and 
 under great difficulty. 
 
 The Quarterly Review of that time, I believe, referred 
 to it as '* an act of devotion and courage rarely ex- 
 ceeded.'' Many thought he was entitled to the V.C., 
 which, however, he did not receive, but Admiral Lyon 
 presented him with a Commander's Commission. 
 
 During the Kertch expedition he did great work, 
 mounting thirty guns, destroying a quantity of the 
 enemy's stores, and two days before the attack on 
 Taganrog, finding the water was so shallow that the 
 Recruit, the Danube and French steamer Monette were 
 the only vessels which could get nearer than 1400 
 yards of the place, Captain Coles, on the spur of the 
 moment, invented and built a raft drawing less than 
 two feet of water, yet able to carry a long 32-pounder. 
 By the following morning he and his men had the raft 
 ready. He named it the Lady Nancy, mounted the 
 gun with a hundred rounds of ammunition, and it was 
 ready for work. Owing to the lightness of this raft, 
 it was able to take up a most effective position within 
 point-blank range, " contributing considerably to the 
 success of the day." So spake the authorities, and the 
 Admiralty even were forced to express their appre- 
 ciation of his ingenuity, resourcefulness and ability, 
 both in design and construction of the raft. 
 
 In the following November a board was appointed 
 by the Commander-in-Chief to report upon Captain 
 Cowper-Coles' method and plans for the construction 
 of shot-proof rafts, guns and mortars. He was now 
 considered too valuable to be kept at sea, and so highly 
 were his drawings and models appreciated that he 
 was ordered home, for the help and instruction of the 
 
30 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 dockyard authorities, also the surveyor of the Navy, 
 and it is due in a great measure to Sir WilHam Arm- 
 strong and Captain Cowper-Coles that England has 
 been able to anticipate all the most cunning inventions 
 of rival naval powers. 
 
 How near the ill-fated Captain got to being an 
 epoch-making invention is shown by the words of 
 Vice- Admiral Symonds, who said : *' She is a most 
 formidable ship and could, I believe, by her superior 
 armament, destroy all the broadside ships of the 
 squadron in detail/' 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 A SECRET ENGAGEMENT 
 
 Exciting Times in Yorkshire — An Incendiary and Attempted Murder — 
 Sir Julius Benedict Annoyed — Engaged to Be Married at Twelve 
 — A Peculiar Engagement Ring — I Faint at Buckingham Palace— 
 A Row in the Sacred Precincts — An Adventurous Drive with Sir 
 William Worsley — Sir Charles Dodsworth Borrows the Butler's 
 Trousers — A Ball at Escrick Park — Why We Were Late — Sir 
 Arthur Lawley at Lucknow. 
 
 WE used to have some thrills in Yorkshire when 
 the men from the ship-yards and iron-works 
 went out on strike, which, when I was a girl, 
 they did frequently. As we lived not many miles 
 away, we generally knew all about it, especially as 
 there was a pet public-house of theirs at the corner of 
 my father's property. This place became such a 
 nuisance that he had its licence taken away. There 
 was a good deal of bitter feeling about this, and we 
 were not altogether surprised one night, to hear my 
 father's haystacks were on fire. The police thought 
 they would not have much difficulty in finding the 
 culprits. In this, they were not far wrong. A small 
 piece of partly burnt newspaper was found, evidently 
 blown by the wind into a hedge, which agreed with 
 and was part of a newspaper discovered in the cottage 
 of one of the suspected people. This combined with 
 other things, and the fact that the wind was blowing 
 in the direction of the man's cottage that night, and 
 the partly burnt paper was in the hedge going in that 
 direction, sufficient evidence was forthcoming for the 
 man to be arrested. My father did not of course sit 
 on the bench during the hearing of the case, but I 
 recollect seeing the man and feeling frightened at the 
 way he scowled at us all. It was decided the case must 
 
 31 
 
32 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 go up for trial, so the supposed culprit had to go to 
 Leeds. 
 
 The morning he was being taken there, he was 
 standing handcuffed on the platform of Stockton 
 Station waiting for the train to come in, a policeman 
 on each side of him. A number of people were on the 
 platform. The train came into the station, and before 
 anybody realised what had happened, the man 
 darted away from his keepers, and threw himself in 
 front of it and the engine and several carriages passed 
 over him. The policemen got down on to the 
 permanent-way to see what was left of the victim, and 
 to their surprise found him lying under one of the 
 carriages, none the worse, except for a few scratches 
 and a bruise or two ; he was unceremoniously pulled 
 out and carried off to Leeds. It was a wonderful 
 escape, due chiefly to the man's being handcuffed 
 and unable to throw his arms about, thus he fell 
 straight like a log between the lines. By the way, 
 I believe a few hot cinders found their way down his 
 neck just to leave a little remembrance of so great an 
 occasion, but nothing more. The man was proved 
 guilty, but I forget what his punishment was. 
 
 Another excitement we had, but it was when I was 
 older. A maid-servant of ours who was very pretty 
 and a great favourite in the household, was walking 
 to the village about two miles away and along a very 
 lonely road to get a pair of boots mended. As soon as 
 she got outside the gate, which is some way from the 
 house and far out of sight of any windows, a man 
 suddenly jumped out of a hedge and demanded 
 money. She replied she had none. He then seized 
 hold of her, saying that unless she found some quickly 
 it would be the worse for her and tried to find her 
 pocket. She screamed for help, upon which the 
 ruffian pulled out a pistol, shot her at close quarters 
 and ran away. As luck would have it, my brother's 
 groom drove round a bend of the road at this moment, 
 and, seeing a man running away and a woman lying 
 at the side of the road, he jumped down, threw the 
 
A SECRET ENGAGEMENT 33 
 
 reins over the post of a gate, and gave chase. It is not 
 easy to run swiftly in top-boots, and the fugitive was 
 getting further and further away when the groom saw 
 a farmer in one of the fields, and shouted to him to 
 " Stop thief/' The farmer headed off the man, and 
 between them they captured him and locked him up 
 in the farm hard by. He had been seen to throw his 
 pistol away, so the farmer felt brave, and he stood 
 outside the building with his gun until the police 
 arrived. The girl's life it turned out had been saved 
 by the boots she was carrying, the bullet had gone 
 through two fairly thick boots and then entered her 
 side, her cloak being singed. She was lifted into the 
 dog-cart and driven with all speed to the nearest 
 hospital about four miles away. 
 
 The man got penal servitude for, I think, ten years. 
 The last words he was heard to utter before being 
 taken to work out his sentence were, that he would 
 " murder the lot " of us, when he came out again. 
 I feel this story is not complete unless I add that 
 when the girl recovered she married the groom who 
 captured her would-be murderer. 
 
 Feeling I should never learn much at home I asked 
 my people to let me go to London and have some 
 lessons ; so to town I went, and Madame Bue taught 
 me French, Signor Puchini Italian, Naftell and 
 Goodall painting, Benedict for music, Leopold for 
 singing. I got on fairly well with all but poor, dear 
 old Benedict. I used to go to his house in Manchester 
 Square for my music lessons accompanied by a 
 governess, who did crochet work while I drove Sir 
 Julius nearly mad. Being such a brilliant pianist 
 himself he at times grew impatient with my, to him, 
 no doubt, elephantine efforts to play Chopin. From 
 my heart I pitied him ; it must be so terrible to teach 
 music, I told myself, and I really was doing my best 
 and was very keen to improve. 
 
 One day after bungling one of those special twiddles 
 so dear to the heart of Chopin, which for some reason 
 best known to himself he placed after the notes he 
 
34 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 intended them to be played before, out flew Sir 
 Julius' arm and swept the music off the stand and half 
 across the room. The governess jumped as if she had 
 been shot. Sir Julius strode up and down the room 
 holding his head, for once quite oblivious of the 
 beautifully rolled sausage curl that ran round it. 
 I had been on the point of apologising for my in- 
 artistic twiddle, but now my heart was hard, and I 
 sat looking straight in front of me, without moving or 
 speaking. My governess told me to pick up the 
 music, but I suggested that the proper person to pick 
 it up was the one who threw it down. Sir Julius did 
 not seem inclined to do so, neither did I, therefore my 
 governess picked it up herself, and replaced it on the 
 music-stand. Sir Julius then in icy tones of extreme 
 politeness requested me to vacate the music-stool 
 while he tried once more to show me how Chopin 
 should be played. This was quite unnecessary, as I 
 knew exactly how he should be played. 
 
 I had another offensive habit. Every now and then 
 when moved by the beauty of the music or the 
 brilliancy of my own technique, I would indulge in 
 little additions of my own, not prescribed by the 
 composer. I was quickly pulled up by my instructor, 
 who used to say in a weary voice, *' No embellishments, 
 if you please, Miss X . It was quite funny. 
 
 At the end of my lessons we parted outwardly calm 
 and friendly, but I fear with hate in our hearts ; though 
 he was good and forgiving enough to send me tickets 
 for his concerts, also others he thought would interest 
 me. He was a most painstaking teacher, but I must 
 have been a pain and grief to him who had music on 
 the brain, in his soul, and at his finger-tips. I wonder 
 his nervous system did not break down under the 
 strain. My only consolation, and the thought rather 
 modified my pity, was that there was no need for him 
 to give music lessons at all, unless he wished to do so ; 
 but money had attractions for him. He had worked 
 hard at his profession and studied under Weber. It 
 was a lucky day for him when he decided to leave 
 
A SECRET ENGAGEMENT 35 
 
 Germany, and try whether England would appreciate 
 his talents more than did the inhabitants of Stuttgart, 
 where after teaching for an hour he was presented 
 with a thaler, which would answer to about three 
 shillings of our English money. 
 
 In England he soon found his lessons brought him 
 in guineas, and his performances hundreds of pounds. 
 Nevertheless, after making a very nice little fortune, 
 he still gave lessons, but certainly not because he loved 
 teaching. He really was a master of precision and 
 detail. At nineteen he conducted the Opera at Vienna, 
 at twenty-three he had composed an opera himself. 
 Germany thought him quite a nice musician, nothing 
 more. In England he was fussed over, and told he 
 was a great man, in fact one of the greatest men of his 
 day in the musical world. This was flattering and 
 soothing, so he decided to make England his home, 
 especially as he had been made a knight, in honour of 
 his oratorios and cantatas, which found much favour. 
 
 His appearance was not attractive and he walked 
 with a curious sort of shufile, his head well in advance 
 of his body and nearly always with two love -locks 
 flying out behind which seemed to escape the curling 
 tongs, curl papers or whatever form of hair manipula- 
 tion he affected. 
 
 Great movements that open up new worlds often 
 come upon us suddenly, or we come upon them. One 
 of these epoch-making movements came to me when 
 still struggling with my education and it entirely 
 changed my perspective. 
 
 One day, when out riding with some friends of my own 
 age, I learnt that our grandfather, on my father's side, 
 had left all of us children, small fortunes to accumulate 
 until we came of age or married. I asked my com- 
 panions how they knew this, and was told they had 
 heard their parents talking about it. This seemed too 
 good to be true and I decided to lose no time in finding 
 out. I boldly asked my father as soon as I found him 
 alone. Yes, it was true and he wished to know who had 
 told me. Fearing I might get my friends into trouble 
 
36 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 I said I had been told in confidence, so would rather 
 not say. The point was not pressed, my father 
 evidently realising if I did not hear it from one person, 
 I should from another, before I was much older. 
 
 A new world was opened to me. My fortune was to 
 be mine when I came of age or married. Clearly then 
 the thing to do was to marry with all haste, and so 
 come into my kingdom ; there would then be no more 
 lessons, governesses and ructions. I should be able 
 to hunt when I liked, buy all the horses I wanted, 
 besides enjoying many other things too bewildering to 
 contemplate. Here I was pulled up sharply by the 
 first thorn attached to my rose, or the first rose 
 attached to my thorn, whichever it might turn out to 
 be, I was confronted with the awkward question of 
 whom could I marry ? 
 
 I confided my difficulty to a great pal of mine then 
 home for the holidays from one of the public schools. 
 He was really a friend in need, for most gallantly he 
 replied, *' You can marry me if you like.'' There was 
 no display of emotion, as there was none to display. 
 We were like the gulls sitting dispassionately side by 
 side engaged and undemonstrative. I thanked him 
 very much for being so obliging, and he agreed to 
 marry me the moment he left school. I remember as 
 we parted that day, drawing him on one side to make 
 the stipulation that he must take me round the world, 
 let me have as many horses as I liked, and allow me to 
 hunt on all possible occasions, to all of which he 
 agreed. He seemed thoughtful, however, and a little 
 worried at having to go round the world with me ! 
 
 My feeling of importance at this time was over- 
 whelming. I felt so grown-up, with that delicious secret 
 shared between my fiance and myself. It was annoying 
 for an engaged young woman to have to wear short 
 skirts and have her hair hanging down her back ; but I 
 consoled myself with the thought of the time when I 
 should be able to please myself in all such matters, and 
 go into dinner instead of dessert in the evening. 
 
 One of the great features of this engagement was the 
 
A SECRET ENGAGEMENT 37 
 
 undemonstrativeness of us both. My young man, whom 
 
 I had better call Z , thought love-making ''awful 
 
 rot," and hoped I did ? With this I quite agreed, but 
 explained I had some lofty ideals about loyalty, 
 unselfishness, and so on. We discussed and argued 
 them to our mutual satisfaction. 
 
 Before returning to school Z rather shyly pre- 
 sented me with an engagement ring, saying it was the 
 proper thing to do. He had asked the old family 
 coachman all about it, without, of course, saying why 
 he wished to know. The ring was then produced and 
 pushed on to my finger, but not before we had nearly 
 quarrelled over the correct finger for engaged couples. 
 
 Z was very apologetic about the ring, saying it was a 
 
 curious-looking thing. He promised to get me a better 
 one when he got his school tips. I had grave misgivings 
 about accepting this offering, as it was broad, and 
 remarkable in appearance, therefore certain to attract 
 attention. I made up my mind that, as soon as he was 
 gone, I would take it off and put it out of sight. 
 Instinct told me he would be hurt if I declined to 
 accept his humble offering. Removing the thing, 
 however, I found was not an easy thing to do. Nothing 
 would persuade it to come off, and I had to go to bed 
 in the wretched thing. Fortunately no remarks had 
 been made on it. Possibly it was regarded as childish 
 vanity, or a freak of no importance. In the middle of 
 the night I was forcibly reminded of my engagement 
 ring by a swollen and painful finger. 
 
 In the morning I observed a green margin round 
 my ring, and on examining it carefully, came to the con- 
 clusion, it had been made out of the ferrule of my lover's 
 walking-stick or umbrella. One thing was certain, from 
 my finger it would have to go at all costs. I went to 
 my mother's maid, a human sort of body. She said, it 
 would have to be sawn off my finger. I was taken 
 into our nearest town, and had the ring sawn off by a 
 jeweller. I brought it home in pieces ; the man seemed 
 a little amused at my anxiety to have the remains. 
 
 After the fashion of girls I grew up more quickly 
 
38 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 than did Z , and at times had misgivings as to the 
 
 wisdom of my engagement. 
 
 It was when I was still engaged to be married to 
 
 Z that I was allowed to go and see a Drawing-Room 
 
 held by the late Queen Victoria at Buckingham Palace. 
 I confided in my lover that it troubled me having to go 
 in short skirts and childish garments when so many 
 relations and people I knew were in trains yards long. 
 I thought it quite time I looked more grown-up. He 
 was very sympathetic. So was a grown-up friend and 
 connection who came to see my people in all their 
 finery. He suggested my letting down a tuck or two, 
 or letting out a gather ! This so amused me, I forgot 
 my troubles in laughter, the idea of the dignity of my 
 appearance being enhanced by a few gathers hanging 
 loose round my waist. When he saw my amusement 
 he also laughed at his own brilliancy. 
 
 On arrival at the Palace, General Lynedock 
 Gardener took me under his wing. I followed him 
 into a sort of waiting-room with a round table in the 
 middle of it, dingy cloth, carpet and curtains, several 
 large glass-fronted cabinets and cupboards with dull- 
 looking china in them, probably priceless specimens, 
 but to my inexperienced eye very uninteresting. 
 
 Altogether I was disappointed. It was not my idea of 
 a palace at all. I had hoped and expected to see every- 
 thing bright and glittering inside, even if the outside 
 looked dull and depressing. I was just beginning to 
 feel chilly, and to wish I had not come, when General 
 Gardener returned and took me to a place in a narrow, 
 rather dark passage, where he told me I should see 
 everybody pass into the Throne-room. 
 
 It all came true. I saw the beautiful Princess of 
 Wales come through a grubby-looking little door at 
 the end of the passage. She was chatting and laughing 
 with those about her, but I had eyes for none but her. 
 I forgot to look at the rest, and as she passed me I 
 made a curtsy and she smiled and bowed her graceful 
 head to me. I was in a seventh heaven, for I had 
 always admired her enormously, and the way she 
 
A SECRET ENGAGEMENT 39 
 
 bowed even in those early days impressed me. Nobody 
 ever bowed as she did. It was not a nod, or wag of the 
 head ; but a gentle dignified movement from the waist, 
 which everybody will remember, and none have ever 
 been able successfully to copy. 
 
 After the Princess, now Queen Alexandra, had 
 passed with her retinue and disappeared into another 
 room, the ladies attending the Drawing-Room began 
 to walk past me, and I was allowed to see their trains 
 thrown down and spread out as they entered the 
 Presence ; for a time I was interested, then it began to 
 pall, especially as many of the women looked so cross. 
 Fortunately after a time Audrey Harcourt, at that 
 time Page-in-Waiting, came and asked me if I would 
 like to go and see the people packing up to go away. 
 Joyfully I accepted this invitation, but it was a 
 surprise to me to see people, some of whom I knew, 
 others I did not, pushing and shoving one another in 
 a way I hardly expected to see amongst gentlefolk. 
 One woman, scratched by the bracelet of another 
 standing near, turned on her with a perfect torrent of 
 swear words such as I had never heard before, clawed 
 her hair, finally hitting her in the face. 
 
 The luckless lady thus assaulted burst into noisy and 
 quite unrestrained tears, but I do not know how the 
 scene ended, as I was so frightened and tired that my 
 head began to go round and I had horrid mixed-up 
 visions of the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland or Alice 
 Through the Looking-Glass , I forget which, coming for 
 me with the hair-brush still tangled in her hair, as I 
 had seen her last in my story book at home. The 
 next thing I remembered was having drinks of cold 
 water given me on some stairs and feeling cold and 
 sick, but being told I was '' all right now." Whenever 
 I think of this extraordinary scene within the walls of 
 Queen Victoria's most decorous court, Kipling's lines 
 occur to me as being wonderfully appropriate : 
 
 " For the Colonel's lady and Judy O'Grady 
 Are sisters under their skins." 
 
 Yorkshire in those days was a very gay and festive 
 
40 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 county. People then lived more on their own property 
 than they do now, and how hospitable they were. 
 
 My first ball was in the Assembly Room at York, 
 given by the Yorkshire Hussars (Yeomanry). It was 
 always a great gathering ; from there to Scarborough 
 for more dances and then to stay at Wool! Knoll, near 
 Hovingham, with Sir William and Lady Worsley for 
 a dance at Gilhng Castle. This particular dance is 
 impressed on my memory by an exciting ^rive we had 
 to it. The house-party, I think, consisted of Miss 
 Lascelles of Harewood, Miss Gilpin-Brown of Sed- 
 bury Park, Sir Charles Dodsworth of Thornton, 
 a Mr. Carmichael, the present baron, I believe, 
 but so many tides have washed the shore since then, 
 and we have scattered over the face of the earth, 
 that I cannot be certain; also one of the Beresford- 
 Peirses, Matthew, I think his name was, but here 
 again I cannot be certain. The chaperones consisted 
 of Lady Worsley and my mother. 
 
 I remember the night of the dance was very dark, 
 and the floods were out. Sir William Worsley took all 
 the young people in a big omnibus, the chaperones 
 followed in a carriage. Our coachman managed to 
 miss his way and we found water flowing in under the 
 door, and the horses plunging about in water above 
 their knees. We all tucked our feet up on the seats 
 opposite and thought it rather amusing. Not so dear 
 old Sir William, who was as anxious about his load of 
 chicks as any old hen. He felt responsible for our 
 safety and well-being. It did not seem a wise thing to 
 get out into the water, so after conversing with the 
 servants on the box, who confessed they did not know 
 where they were, he tried to crawl through the window 
 and get on to the box himself. It was rather a struggle. 
 We all helped from behind, and when he got his head 
 and one shoulder firmly wedged into the window, down 
 went one of the horses. Here was a pretty kettle of 
 fish. Sir William half in and half out, one horse had 
 lost his feet, and water in the bottom of the vehicle. 
 
 Sir Charles Dodsworth bravely said he would get 
 
A SECRET ENGAGEMENT 41 
 
 out and see what could be done. By the time he had 
 got thoroughly wet, the horse had regained its feet, 
 and we were scrambling on to drier and firmer ground. 
 Seeing a light in the road behind us Sir Charles ran 
 back and foimd it was the chaperones, and we had the 
 satisfaction to know we were on the right road, 
 although we had got off it, where the floods were 
 rather heavy, and had been down on the ditch side 
 almost off the road where the water was rather deep. 
 While Sir Charles was finding all this out, we were 
 trying to pull Sir William back from the window, and 
 now he was easier in his mind about our safety he 
 enjoyed the joke, as few men of his age would have 
 done. At all times he was the most cheery of souls. 
 
 The next anxiety was whether any harness had been 
 broken while the horses were plunging about in the 
 water. We were told everything was all right, for the 
 lights had been taken down, all carefully examined, 
 and a few little adjustments made with string and 
 some braid pulled off a seat cushion, and we slowly 
 continued our way. Poor Sir Charles was so wet we 
 had to clear a space and let him drip on it by himself, 
 so we piled up on each other's knees, huddhng up at 
 one end of the omnibus as much as we could. Sir 
 William was still anxious, as he was afraid we might 
 have cracked the pole when the horse fell, and was 
 prepared for a great disaster at any moment. He told 
 us it would be the last time he would ever take young 
 people to a dance ; it had aged him five years ! I am 
 glad to say he did not keep to this vow, or I should 
 have missed many happy times. 
 
 When we finally arrived at Gilling and clattered into 
 the courtyard, with a sigh of relief. Sir William saw 
 us all into the cloak-room, and went to see what 
 could be done about dry clothes for Sir Charles Dods- 
 worth. He appeared after a while looking not much 
 amiss, and declaring he was wearing the butler's 
 trousers. Whether this was true or not I cannot say, 
 but I observed he did not dance with the usual wild 
 vigour, so perhaps they were not quite as roomy and 
 
42 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 comfortable as his own. Beyond a slight cold, he 
 declared he was none the worse after it all. 
 
 Another exciting drive we had once, when going to 
 a dance at Escrick in old Lord Wenlock's time (the 
 second baron). The weather had been very rough and 
 a tree had been blown across the road, barring our 
 advance. We were not the only people held up by it, 
 gradually carriage after carriage pulled up behind us, 
 and we all held council on what was the best thing to 
 be done. Eventually, with the combined efforts of 
 the different servants and our menkind in their 
 immaculate evening clothes, the top end of the tree 
 was moved sufficiently to allow us to pass with careful 
 driving. We were first to move on, and the noise made 
 by driving over the minor branches, combined with the 
 way they had of striking out, made the horses think 
 they were frightened, so they proceeded to run away. 
 
 We were swished past hedges and trees, into ditches 
 and out again. During our exit from one of the 
 ditches the pole snapped and away we went afresh, but 
 with redoubled fury, swaying from side to side, some- 
 times on four wheels and sometimes on two. We put 
 down the windows to save being cut by broken glass. 
 One girl with us kept shouting to the coachman to 
 stop as she wished to get out ! A youth, though silent 
 and helpful in putting down windows and balancing 
 himself and us from side to side as occasion arose 
 according to the number of wheels we happened to be 
 using, selected that moment to be ''sea-sick.'' Pre- 
 sently we became conscious of a distinct relaxation 
 of speed. We had come to a hill, and the men on the 
 box seized the opportunity to get a pull at the horses 
 and turned them into the hedge, calling to us to get 
 out quickly before they started off again. 
 
 Nothing would have pleased us better than to get 
 out quickly ; unfortunately one door was blocked by 
 the hedge and the other had become jammed during 
 our mad career. We dared not bang or bump it much, 
 for fear of upsetting the horses again. Meanwhile the 
 groom had jumped down and was undoing the traces 
 
A SECRET ENGAGEMENT 43 
 
 and taking the horses out of the carriage as quickly as 
 possible. We could hear the coachman conversing 
 with the horses in what was intended to be reassuring 
 accents, but sounded very breathless and w^obbly. 
 It was a relief to us all, when we saw the trembling 
 and foam-flecked animals being led away. We then 
 hammered the door open and gratefully stood on safe 
 ground once more. Presently we saw lights approach- 
 ing, and to our joy, discovered friends had come in 
 search of us, after depositing the dancing people at 
 Escrick, so we were carried ofi and although very late 
 and rather tousled finished the night dancing, with the 
 exception of the girl who screamed and had to lie 
 down and have sal- volatile to pull her together. The 
 funny part of the story was, that this girl whom we 
 had fairly to sit upon, she was so frightened, went 
 round the country telling everybody that we all 
 fainted with the exception of herself. 
 
 The Lord Wenlock of whom I write was a great 
 fine-looking man, I can see him now standing in front 
 of the fire, feet well apart, and his head thrown back, 
 a favourite attitude of his, can see his well-known 
 figure in the Assembly Rooms at York — walking down 
 Coney Street and on to the Club close to Lendal 
 Bridge. He was always kind to young people and 
 particularly to me. His son Arthur Lawley (now Sir 
 Arthur) who was in the loth Hussars, called by his 
 familiar friends " Jo,'' was another kind friend. He 
 was at Lucknow with his regiment, at the time when 
 I had a nasty fall schooling a pony over some jumps, 
 and got rather badly rolled on. He used to send me 
 flowers and write kind notes to cheer me while a 
 prisoner in my room. Since then he has filled all sorts 
 of important posts. Administrator of Matabeleland, 
 Governor of W. Australia, Lieut. -Governor of the 
 Transvaal, and Governor of Madras. Sir Arthur has 
 been doing valuable work during the great war in 
 connection with the Red Cross and Ambulance 
 Department. Long life and much happiness is what 
 his friends wish him and I among the number. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE SERBIAN TRAGEDY 
 
 Engaged to be Married Again — Wedding Day — A Luncheon Party at 
 Ascot — Some Literary friends — Mrs. Tweedale Arrested as a Spy — 
 Murder of King Alexander and Queen Draga of Serbia — Queen 
 Draga's Loss of Self-control Betrays Her — Why She was Unpopular 
 — Captain Fred Burnaby and Captain Stuart Menzies do Acro- 
 batic Tricks — The Result — Colonel Burnaby's Death — A Meeting 
 with Garibaldi. 
 
 WHEN Z left school and went to study 
 foreign languages with a tutor, neither 
 of us made any reference to our engage- 
 ment. I hoped he had forgotten all about it, he prob- 
 ably hoped I had. Therefore I ventured upon a fresh 
 engagement, this time to a subaltern in the High- 
 landers. I made enquiries to see how my former young 
 man bore up under this blow, and was given to under- 
 stand he showed no sign of being broken-hearted. This 
 was mortifying, but saved inconvenience and explana- 
 tion. 
 
 My second lover was more demonstrative than the 
 first, and in a desperate hurry to be married as his 
 leave was nearly up, and he had to return to the regi- 
 ment in India. So one bright May day, that month 
 supposed to be so unlucky for brides, I was married 
 at our parish church, while still nothing but a child. 
 My father being squire it was made a great occasion, 
 and I thought everybody had much more fun than 
 the bride. On the morning of my wedding, when I 
 heard people laughihg and talking, I wanted to go and 
 join in the merriment, but was told I must not appear 
 until my father came to take me to the church. This 
 I thought distinctly hard and began to think that 
 being married was not any fun at all, but a very over- 
 
 44 
 
THE SERBIAN TRAGEDY 45 
 
 rated amusement, especially when suddenly a silence 
 came over the whole house and I realised all had gone 
 on to the church, whilst I, the poor bride, the chief 
 actor, was left severely alone. I became horribly 
 depressed. 
 
 Fortunately I had not long to wait. My father 
 came into my room very smart, in lavender waistcoat, 
 frock-coat, etc., and looking handsomer than ever. 
 He kissed me and was rather tearful, which was up- 
 setting, but there was no time for emotion. I was 
 hurried downstairs, packed into a carriage drawn by 
 four grey horses with postillions in grey and blue, and 
 flourished off on the first stage of my great adventure. 
 The school children strewed flowers for me to walk on, 
 the bells rang merrily, though they always make me 
 feel melancholy. The church was crammed with 
 people. I began to recover my spirits a little, perhaps 
 after all it was not so bad being married. 
 
 My first blow was in the vestry, when I found I had 
 to sign myself '' spinster.'' This was painful and 
 humiliating, for I had always in a vague sort of way 
 regarded spinsters as uninteresting old maids ; but 
 there was no help for it, so spinster I signed myself. 
 
 At the church gates after the ceremony my husband 
 and I were presented with an illuminated address and 
 various gifts from the farmers and parishioners, to 
 whom I had to make a little speech, followed by one 
 from my new lord and master, in which he said the 
 usual things about cherishing me, and bringing me 
 back soon to see them all again. Then once more I 
 was hurried off to the breakfast, and then away from 
 the old home. 
 
 Thus I was shot out into the realities of life after 
 the manner of those days, in a condition of absolute 
 black ignorance of practically every fact of life that 
 would be almost unbelievable to girls of that age to- 
 day — happily for them. The fact that I had not the 
 faintest idea of what I was doing was a matter of 
 legitimate self-congratulation to my parents as a 
 proof of the success of the upbringing they had be- 
 
46 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 stowed on their child. It seems a little incongruous 
 that a man who, say, for instance, murdered an aged 
 aunt, should be regarded as such a naughty fellow, 
 and probably hanged, while the people who launched 
 their daughters into life before they knew what they 
 were about should be adjudged quite praiseworthy. 
 The gentleman who murdered his aunt had only 
 shortened an old life while the others had done their 
 best to ruin a young one. 
 
 The congratulations I received from an old woman 
 in the village at home still dwells in my memory. She 
 had known me all my life, and when I told her I was 
 going to be married, with tears in her eyes she put her 
 dear old hand on my shoulder and with shaking head 
 said, ** Poor dear.'* This was not inspiring. She had 
 been through a good deal herself during her married 
 life and presented her husband with eighteen children, 
 so she may have had some excuse for the form her 
 congratulations took. 
 
 We spent a good part of that season in Town, and 
 very important I felt at being able to chaperone girls 
 much older than myself. One of my bridesmaids, 
 a very pretty daughter of Sir George Howland Beau- 
 mont, became engaged, I believe, at one of the dances 
 she went to with me, the happy man being Colonel 
 Gawin Rowan Hamilton, of Killyleagh Castle, Co. 
 Down, Ireland, brother of the present Dowager Lady 
 Dufferin and Ava. 
 
 Thinking over those days, I have come to the con- 
 clusion I was a most useful person. That was one 
 marriage in which I played a part. Then, I introduced 
 my eldest brother to his present wife. She was my 
 friend and used to accept the hospitality of my people 
 for weeks and months at a time. I also introduced 
 my sister's husband to her. As I write I have many 
 letters before me that I have just unearthed, amongst 
 them several full of expressions of lifelong gratitude 
 to me. It is wise to keep them. People sometimes 
 change their minds. 
 
 I had a large party at Ascot that year, and sent the 
 
THE SERBIAN TRAGEDY 47 
 
 luncheon and servants down from a Piccadilly caterer 
 so that I should have no worries and anxieties. Fortu- 
 nately I was wise enough to order luncheon for about 
 ten more people than I had originally asked to share ^ 
 the feast, knowing that at race-meetings so many old 
 friends unexpectedly turn up, which proved to be the 
 case on this occasion. Amongst our guests were some 
 of my husband's brother officers. Captain George 
 Chalmers being one. He was in beautiful gala attire, 
 grey frock-coat, grey trousers, grey hat, with all the 
 finishing touches carefully thought out. 
 
 While at luncheon my husband kept bringing up 
 fresh batches of friends to be introduced to me and 
 fed, so I sat down upon a reserve basket of fruit on 
 the grass near me, to make more room for my 
 guests. Captain Chalmers came, hoping to make 
 still more room, and sat down plump beside me. He 
 had a plate in his hand, so had I. The basket, which 
 was of a frail nature, made to allow air to reach 
 the fruit and so keep it fresh, of course gave way, 
 and he went through amongst my reserve straw- 
 berries, peaches and good things. I too got my share 
 as it is not easy to save oneself, with a plate in the 
 lap, and a spoon and fork in the hands ; also when 
 once down, by no means easy to regain one's balance 
 daintily and quickly. All our party seemed much 
 amused and laughed merrily at our discomfiture, 
 while we hardly dared get up to see the extent of the 
 havoc wrought on our clothes. I was pulled up and 
 found various splodges on my white frock. Captain 
 Chalmers had fortunately lifted his coat-tails before 
 sitting down, so after he had been rubbed down and 
 cleaned he was able to appear again, provided he 
 moved with circumspection. I had to borrow a cloak 
 from one of my guests. 
 
 I made up my mind when I began this book to avoid 
 as much as possible conversing of the living, it is so 
 invidious, but there are a few people amongst my 
 friends so arresting I am obliged to mention them, 
 I could not pass them by. Mrs. Tweedale is one of 
 
48 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 them. While on the frontier of Austria, not very 
 long ago, she had a curious experience, being arrested 
 as a Russian spy. At the Customs she was detained, 
 her dispatch-box containing several chapters of a 
 novel she was writing, and a small Russian icon, were 
 taken from her. A traveller's typewriter, fixed in an 
 aluminium case, was also confiscated, being suspected, 
 no doubt, of being an infernal machine of some sort. 
 
 The officials were much worried at not being able 
 to translate the chapters of the novel in the dispatch- 
 box ; suddenly a happy thought struck one of them. 
 There was an English-speaking waiter in the station 
 restaurant, the very man they wanted. He was sent 
 for, and ordered to translate into German portions of 
 the manuscript, meanwhile Violet Tweedale and the 
 officers sat round listening. After a time, finding 
 nothing very incriminating the waiter was released. 
 
 The typewriter was covered with important-looking 
 seals and placed in an empty truck, while Mrs. Twee- 
 dale, escorted by two officers carrying the dispatch- 
 box, proceeded to the train and resumed the journey. 
 On arrival at her destination and hotel, she was in- 
 formed she must consider herself under arrest, as a 
 Russian spy, whilst enquiries were instituted. 
 
 Luckily she was allowed to communicate with her 
 husband, who had left her for a few days to visit 
 another part of Austria. He at once acquainted the 
 British Embassy in Vienna with what had occurred. 
 
 After five days' arrest, during which time Mrs. 
 Tweedale was never lost sight of by the two Austrian 
 officers under whose arrest she was, liberation came, 
 and an apology. 
 
 The dispatch-box with the unfinished novel was 
 returned intact, but the typewriter was smashed and 
 useless. 
 
 Realising the futility of being annoyed with her 
 guardians, Mrs. Tweedale at once entered into the 
 most friendly relations with them, so the days of her 
 arrest were not rendered so unpleasant as they might 
 have been. The trio took long country walks to- 
 
THE SERBIAN TRAGEDY 49 
 
 gether ; dined at the same table, each endeavouring 
 to be agreeable and pass the time away. At night the 
 officers took it in turn to sit on a chair outside her 
 door. 
 
 Mrs. Tweedale has always taken a keen interest in 
 European politics and was greatly horrified when 
 King Alexander and Queen Draga of Serbia were 
 assassinated. She had seen a great deal of these 
 Royalties and was in the country at the time. 
 
 Several books have been written about this tragedy, 
 but I do not think it is generally known how nearly 
 the regicides failed in their designs. This is what 
 really happened. 
 
 The King and Queen had retired for the night when 
 they heard the explosion of the doors being blown 
 open, the general commotion going on in the Palace 
 and the sound of shots being fired. The Queen had 
 for some time been in nervous anticipation of some 
 trouble, knowing she was not popular, and now it had 
 come. 
 
 They both fled into a room or large cupboard adjoin- 
 ing the Queen's dressing-room, where the State robes 
 were kept. This place was entered by one of those 
 secret doors occasionally met with in the homely 
 palaces and country houses on the Continent. No 
 one unacquainted with the room would have known 
 where to find this door, as it was papered over to 
 match the walls of the room, and there was no knob 
 or handle to attract attention. The door was opened 
 by pressing a panel, and opened towards those wishing 
 to enter. When shut a little extra edge of paper on 
 very thin matchwood projecting beyond the door 
 exactly fitted and matched the pattern of the wall- 
 paper, leaving no suggestion of there being any opening. 
 
 The murderers had been searching in the cellars of 
 the Palace, being led there by a faithful retainer, who 
 hoped by so doing to give the Royal couple time to 
 hide or escape. Not finding those they sought, 
 the ruffians shot their guide and proceeded to the 
 private apartments of the King and Queen, but they 
 
50 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 were empty, and they came to the conclusion the couple 
 had escaped. The disappointed and drunken assassins 
 then began smashing the furniture and shooting indis- 
 criminately right and left; one shot penetrated the 
 secret door and poor terrified Queen Draga screamed ! 
 This betrayed their hiding-place. In a few minutes 
 both were brutally murdered, their faces slashed and 
 hacked and their bodies also otherwise mutilated. 
 They were then thrown out of the window into the 
 garden below, where their bodies remained until next 
 day, when a gardener was told to turn a hose on 
 them and wash away some of the signs of butchery. 
 After this they were put into common deal packing- 
 cases and buried in paupers' graves. 
 
 But for that fatal scream, that want of self-control 
 and presence of mind, there is every reason to believe 
 the King and Queen might both have escaped and the 
 tragedy been averted. If only they had been able to 
 remain in hiding until day came, and with day help, 
 all might have been well, for it must not be forgotten 
 that the murder plot was only the work of some eighty 
 conspirators, led by the officers of the guard. The 
 people of Belgrade had no hand in the affair. The 
 accompanying photograph is a snapshot taken by 
 my friend, Mr. Tweedale, of his wife standing by the 
 graves of Draga and Alexander just after they were 
 buried by the regicides. At the time the photograph 
 was taken there were still groups of the jeering mur- 
 derers and their followers about the graves. A few 
 planks were placed over the open holes only four feet 
 deep, the deal cases containing the remains of the 
 once King and Queen being plainly visible. The 
 crosses at the head of the graves were made of plain 
 deal, the letters being painted in red. 
 
 The King was popular and the world knows the 
 story of the Queen's unpopularity, the marriage 
 being considered a mesalliance. She was a widow 
 when the King became attracted to her. As far as 
 I could gather the two chief grievances against the 
 unhappy woman were that she used her influence 
 
MRS. VIOLET TWEEDAI.E AT QUEEN DRAGA's GRAVE 
 
THE SERBIAN TRAGEDY 51 
 
 with the King badly, and that she failed to provide 
 him with a son. No doubt this was the crown- 
 ing act of indiscretion, particularly as the Court 
 physician said there never would be an heir. 
 
 With regard to the first accusation the malcontents 
 seem to have had some grounds for their grievance, 
 for in the early days before the King married her, he 
 was very unwise in the way he paid his addresses, 
 and Draga was more than foolish in her display of his 
 jewels, splendidly appointed horses and carriages, 
 and the way she openly followed him about the 
 country from place to place. 
 
 I have always been somewhat exercised in my mind 
 as to Queen Draga's attitude with regard to the 
 second cause of the trouble. If she married King 
 Alexander, knowing as she may have done that she 
 could never bear him an heir, he being the last of his 
 line, then, indeed, her selfishness was very great. If, 
 on the other hand, it was a painful surprise when the 
 doctors informed her of the fact, she deserves all our 
 sympathy and pity. 
 
 Mrs. Tweedale and her husband, who know Germany 
 intimately, had been making a number of public 
 speeches on the coming war in the years immediately 
 preceding it, both being intimately acquainted by 
 personal observation with Germany's great strength 
 and her preparations. 
 
 I have admired Mrs. Tweedale 's pluck and grit 
 on more than one occasion. She was speaking once 
 for an hour every night, when Captain Charles 
 Bum was standing for Exeter, after which she 
 would sometimes jump into her car and go off to help 
 Mr. Morrison Bell when standing for East Devon. 
 On one occasion when a political star, who was engaged 
 and advertised to address the electors, did not turn 
 up, she vaUantly took his place and kept everyone 
 interested and happy for two hours until the good 
 man turned up. 
 
 I have lately been discussing the war with Mrs. 
 Tweedale. She knows intimately all the countries 
 
52 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 of the belligerents. It has been interesting, and she 
 thinks England's weakest spot is her neglect of foreign 
 languages ; this has come home to many of us 
 lately. A surprising and almost incredible story 
 reached me a short time ago from the front in Flanders. 
 I was told as a fact that when the Allies had their 
 first Conference in Paris, the only country repre- 
 sented there unable to make itself understood without 
 the aid of an interpreter was England. There was, 
 however, one exception — Sir William Robertson, at 
 that time Chief of the Imperial Staff, a man who had 
 risen from the ranks I It does not speak well for our 
 public-school training when our Cabinet Ministers are 
 unable to make themselves understood in the language 
 adopted by all nations in their diplomatic intercourse. 
 
 I can hardly believe Lord Kitchener could not make 
 himself understood, for I know he could speak French, 
 and I should have thought that if he could bring the 
 Fashoda situation to so successful an issue, he must 
 have been able to speak French. 
 
 A volume of recollections is a series of big jumps, a 
 veritable Grand National. 
 
 I am now about to take a very big jump from King 
 Alexander and Queen Draga, with the Tweedales 
 thrown in, to Colonel Burnaby, who had a most 
 romantic career, though passed in a prosaic era ! 
 A restless wonderful man, never happy unless passing 
 through some fiery ordeal of adventure, crossing the 
 Channel in a balloon, riding to Khiva, and such-like 
 little enterprises. I have never been in a balloon, but 
 there does not appear to be much room in them for 
 such big men as Colonel Burnaby, who stood six feet 
 four inches in his socks, and had a chest measurement 
 of forty-six inches, or Captain Templer, who was, I 
 believe, in the 6oth Rifles before he became a Govern- 
 ment aeronaut ; he was a big man, tall and broad. 
 How cramped they must get ! 
 
 When I first knew Colonel Burnaby he was in the 
 Royal Horse Guards, just before he gained his majority. 
 He was the son of one of the good old sporting parsons. 
 
THE SERBIAN TRAGEDY 53 
 
 From all I hear, he and my grandfather were much of 
 the same calibre, both of a proud and dignified bearing, 
 inspiring respect and awe, living in some state, hunt- 
 ing, attending race-meetings, with well-turned-out 
 carriages, horses and servants. The sporting parson 
 was generally greatly esteemed by his flock. I was 
 boasting one day to Colonel Burnaby of a feat of my 
 husband's in his early youth, when he started from 
 our landing-stage on the Derwent, which runs through 
 the Park of our Yorkshire home, in a small canoe with 
 only a paddle and an umbrella to use as a sail. He 
 travelled down the river to its mouth, then round to 
 Hull and back again without mishap. My little boast 
 was quite thrown into the shade by an account Colonel 
 Burnaby gave me of a jaunt of his own when at 
 Harrow. He started alone at the age of thirteen on 
 a journey of some hundreds of miles in a boat, return- 
 ing in three weeks, having been on the move all the 
 time. 
 
 I used to hear Colonel Burnaby spoken of as the 
 strongest man in the English army, as, indeed, I think 
 he may well have been, for I have seen him do pro- 
 digious things. I remember my husband bringing him 
 in one night from the club, with a few other old friends, 
 when we were staying at the Langham Hotel in Lon- 
 don. My partner was somewhat of an athlete, and 
 had won various medals and prizes for running and 
 walking. Soon they began to do tricks, which went 
 on into the early dawn, amusing me so much I felt I 
 could not go to bed, but must stay and watch. They 
 began, that is to say, Burnaby and my husband began, 
 with a hopping match over the chairs placed in a row 
 equal distances apart. This was a dead heat, but was 
 an expensive game, as Burnaby was no light-weight, 
 and we were informed next morning that the con- 
 cussion had brought down a chandelier in the room 
 below. Rather doubtful whether the extent of the 
 mischief was as bad as it had been painted, we went 
 to see what damage was done, and there truly enough 
 lay more or less wrecked one of those enormities, 
 
54 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 which consisted of endless hanging glass icicles, much 
 valued and very fashionable at one time. Of course 
 the one in question was valuable according to the 
 hotel manager. 
 
 But more gymnastic feats were performed before 
 morning arrived and we were confronted by the 
 results. After the hopping match Bumaby vaulted 
 over a largish round table in the middle of the room, 
 using his left hand, and without the least apparent 
 effort. My husband then followed suit, not so success- 
 fully ; he ceilainly eventually arrived at the other side, 
 and that is all I can say. A cousin of mine in the 
 Black Watch who was in the room at the time said, 
 " You can't lift the ' Old Man ' " (this was a name 
 given to my husband by his chosen and familiar 
 friends in consequence of his hair being white at the 
 age of twenty-five) '' with one hand.'' The *' Old 
 Man " looked anxious, as six feet four inches advanced 
 towards him, and seized him by the back of his collar 
 and coat, popping him down at the other side of the 
 table much as a dog would a rat. Although slight my 
 husband was above the average height. 
 
 Colonel Bumaby nearly always called his horses by 
 Biblical names. I can remember a " Moses," *' Boaz " 
 and a "Nimshi." Although a good horseman, I never 
 thought he looked well on a horse, too untidy and all 
 abroad as they say in the south. On State occasions 
 when he rode before the Queen as Silver Stick and 
 Colonel of the Blues, he managed to brace himself up 
 and look smart. 
 
 He was rather a trial to his valet, as in the first 
 place he would wear cheap boots, and what is almost 
 worse, if it were possible he would manage to fasten 
 up his waistcoat wrongly, leaving a button somewhere 
 not doing its duty, its proper button-hole being 
 engaged elsewhere. Yet his servants were much 
 attached to him. Most people have heard of his 
 devoted soldier servant Radstock, and of his master's 
 tender nursing of him during his last illness. 
 
 A weakness for puns was a little failing of Burnaby's, 
 
THE SERBIAN TRAGEDY 55 
 
 and at the time when he was piqued with Colonel 
 Owen Williams and there seemed every likelihood of 
 a flare up, he told me his views on the matter and his 
 opinions of his one-time friend, winding up with, 
 " Never mind, I am owing Williams one ! " The fact 
 that he did not get on very well with his superior 
 officers, and at times with his brother-officers, did not 
 trouble him a little bit ; he used to laugh about it and 
 went on his way rejoicing. One of the chief causes of 
 offence to his superiors was that, when he asked for 
 leave and it was not granted, he usually managed to 
 circumvent the authorities and turn up wherever he 
 wished to be. Daringly independent he cared nothing 
 for a wigging. 
 
 One of the reasons why he did not always ** hit it 
 off " with some of his brother officers, Burnaby 
 declared, was because he did not wear stays, paint his 
 face, wax his moustache and dye his hair. 
 
 There is, however, no denying that he was untidy, 
 although he would never admit it. A certain lock or 
 two of hair, which should have been swept back off his 
 brow, had a way of almost invariably hanging down 
 over it. This helped to give him an untidy appearance. 
 
 When he crossed the Channel by balloon in 1882 
 he left England without permission, so on his return 
 the Duke of Cambridge was turned on to him, but 
 the Duke spoke very nicely, for I happen to know 
 he was much interested in the enterprise, and admired 
 Burnaby 's pluck, and said he would like to go up in a 
 balloon himself with Burnaby, only he feared '* there 
 would be such a hullabaloo.'' 
 
 The aircraft of to-day fascinate me, but I decline 
 to go up in a balloon, too much has to be left to chance 
 and luck to please me. Not many women have taken 
 up ballooning, but Mrs. May Harbord loves it. 
 
 There have been various conflicting accounts of how 
 Colonel Burnaby met his death at Abu Klea, and it 
 is curious that out of the accounts given to me by 
 friends present at the battle, no two are alike. Lord 
 Binning's of the Blues was the most graphic, but too 
 
56 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 long to quote verbatim. From it I gathered that 
 when the square was broken by the camels being 
 wounded and unable to advance with the troops, the 
 enemy quickly saw the weak spot and rushed it. 
 Lord Binning saw Burnaby riding backwards and 
 forwards on " Moses '* trying to get the men to fall 
 back quickly and then lost sight of him in the melee. 
 When the battle was won and there was time to think 
 and breathe again, a general cry arose of '' Where's 
 Burnaby ? " Lord Binning went in search of him, 
 and a little way from the square found him on the 
 ground dying, with his head lying in the lap of a young 
 private in the Bays. The lad was crying bitterly, and 
 said, ** Oh, Sir, here's the bravest man in England 
 dying, and no one to help him." Colonel Burnaby 
 tried to speak, and seemed to recognise his friend, but 
 was dying fast from loss of blood from three mortal 
 wounds : a spear wound in the throat, a bullet wound 
 in the forehead, and part of his head cut away. Lord 
 Binning remarked that it was wonderful that he had 
 lived as long as he did with three such ghastly wounds. 
 Poor '' Moses " was lying near his master covered with 
 spear wounds. 
 
 On the other hand, Mr. Melton Prior told me that 
 when Colonel Burnaby met his death he was outside 
 the square fighting six Arabs single-handed, and that 
 when he heard an order shouted to retire he turned 
 his head to see who gave it ; this gave his opponents 
 their opportunity and they at once speared him in the 
 throat. 
 
 Another friend writing to me almost directly after 
 the battle describes it thus : 
 
 " Burnaby was on the back of Moses when the 
 
 poor beast was killed. B continued to fight on 
 
 foot with his four-barrelled Lancaster pistol, but fell 
 from loss of blood from three wounds, each one serious 
 enough to have killed him." 
 
 Yet another account tells me : ''It was Burnaby 's 
 own fault he was killed, he asked for it ; went out of 
 the square as if he wished to fight the lot single- 
 
THE SERBIAN TRAGEDY 57 
 
 handed, and by so doing jeopardised the square, and 
 if we had lost the battle it would have been Burnaby's 
 fault and his alone." 
 
 A letter written quite recently by one of the Blues 
 who took part in the engagement says : 
 
 ** Burnaby arrived the day before Abu Klea, and 
 we were told he had been sent up to take command 
 in case anything happened to Herbert Stewart, who 
 was in command as second senior officer. Sir Charles 
 Wilson, though a clever man and excellent political 
 officer, had never commanded a regiment in his life. 
 Eroll was not there, but when the Arabs from without 
 and the camels from within broke the square formation 
 in which we were fighting, Burnaby went out of the 
 square near to our (the Blues') face. 
 
 '* Binning, seeing him wounded and in difficulties, 
 went and spoke to him, but he was mortally wounded 
 in several places, and notably by a shot in the forehead 
 at the roots of the hair. Burnaby went out [from 
 England] on his own hook, I believe, and Sir Garnet 
 Wolseley wanting a man employed him at once and 
 pushed him up to our column. 
 
 *' Binning did tell me he was killed while the fighting 
 was still going on, as I was busy trying to shut the 
 face of the square and get the ammunition and camels 
 back inside it. Stewart being mortally wounded two 
 days afterwards at Abu Kru and Burnaby being 
 killed, we found ourselves under Sir Charles Wilson 
 surrounded by the Arabs. Luckily Charlie Beresford 
 was there, Star Boscowen (Falmouth), and Mildmay 
 Wilson, or we should be there still under ground.'' 
 
 I have been told by a friend who was at the side of 
 Colonel Burnaby when he died that his face alone of 
 all the dead and dying that lay around him bore a 
 smile, the smile we all knew so well ; and I have 
 always hoped perhaps he heard the cheers of victory 
 before the end came. 
 
 All who have ever spoken to me of this time said 
 Colonel Burnaby 's death caused a feehng of consterna- 
 tion. This hero of so many fights, so many narrow 
 
58 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 escapes, dead ; and not one but many of the men 
 cried over his dead body. 
 
 In England, at the very time he was dying, the 
 authorities were talking about court-martialling him 
 on his return for having gone out to the Soudan with- 
 out leave — they were saved the trouble. 
 
 As I look back over the years I knew Burnaby I 
 think what I noticed more markedly than almost any- 
 thing else was his intolerance of conventions ; his 
 very attitudes and way of sitting down were protests 
 against convention. 
 
 I have lately been turning over some old letters 
 refreshing my memory of these old times, and have 
 come across some notes of Colonel Burnaby's : his 
 writing was like that of a child having its hand held 
 and taking great pains. One of these notes refers to 
 a promise he had made me of introducing to me Gari- 
 baldi, whom I had told him I should much like to 
 meet. Colonel Burnaby 's promises were not made of 
 the proverbial pie-crust, and although I had quite for- 
 gotten he had said he thought he could arrange a 
 meeting between the lovable old revolutionist and 
 myself, his note told me that Garibaldi was expected 
 in England very shortly, and when would I be ready 
 to receive the Red Shirt ? 
 
 I was staying at the Alexandra Hotel, Knight sbridge, 
 at the time, and the meeting was to take place there. 
 My husband fled when he heard he would have to 
 speak in French, so I received my guests alone ; they 
 presented a remarkable contrast as they entered the 
 room. Colonel Burnaby, looking a Hercules with his 
 broad shoulders and abnormally long legs, smiling as 
 was his wont all across his face, with his untidy re- 
 bellious lock of hair falling as usual across his forehead. 
 Beside him the poor old man suffering much from 
 rheumatism, the son of a poor Nice fisherman, with 
 the manners of a courtier and a soft almost pleading 
 voice for which alone I shall always remember him. 
 I had been warned by Burnaby that I should have to 
 talk Italian or French. He was a born linguist, I am 
 
THE SERBIAN TRAGEDY 59 
 
 not, and my Italian being of the order of the school- 
 room Miss, taught just enough to be able to sing 
 Italian songs without giving herself away, I decided 
 to try French, although I must confess I am not as 
 expert even in that as I should be, considering my 
 many opportunities. But never did an hour pass more 
 pleasantly for me, never did I feel less ignorant, thanks 
 to the charming manners and understanding of General 
 Garibaldi, who seemed to anticipate and understand 
 what I wished to say almost before I spoke. We all 
 paid each other charming compliments. The General 
 spoke with affection of Colonel Burnaby, while he in 
 return told me of the General's individual influence 
 and power that had worked so powerfully in Italy. 
 
 He drew the old man into talking of some of his 
 astonishing enterprises. I ventured to suggest that 
 Count Cavour and Mazzini had thrown all the weight 
 of their rebellious spirit on to his, Garibaldi's, shoulders, 
 letting him do all the work and reap all the punish- 
 ments that should have been theirs if punishment were 
 deserved. He smiled his sad, sad smile, and said he 
 had been a very willing tool, that those who had the 
 fire burning in them and who had nothing to lose were 
 the proper people to do the work, and it had been a 
 work of love for his country. I asked him if his life 
 could be lived over again, would he pursue the same 
 policy. He replied, '' Yes, given the same conditions.'' 
 I wondered why, if he was so content with his life, he 
 had such a sad look in his eyes, whether it was the 
 outcome of thwarted desires, ambitions, and hopes. 
 Not that he had any ambitions for himself, they were 
 all for Italy — he had refused riches, preferring to remain 
 poor. 
 
 I asked him to tell me of the Countess della Torre, 
 who acted as his Joan of Arc, riding at the head of his 
 Who's Who Legion, wearing the same Red Shirt as 
 all his army. A sparkle came into his eyes ; he said 
 she was splendid, she was superb, she was brave, and 
 sang as she rode along, inspiring all his plucky rabble, 
 and she was a mother to them all. 
 
6o MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Every now and then I became entangled with my 
 flow of French, then Colonel Bumaby came to the 
 rescue and carried on for me. Garibaldi spoke with 
 gratitude of the way the English people had treated 
 him, of the way they had received him when he 
 visited this country in 1864, and expressed his great 
 pleasure at the way the English people had responded 
 to his call for help, of the many of all sorts and sizes 
 who had joined his army. 
 
 At the end of this delightful visit Garibaldi stooped 
 down and kissed my hand, saying he hoped we should 
 meet again, but he was growing an old man. 
 
 He lived just three years after this. His hand- 
 writing was fine and pointed like the running hand of 
 the ladies in the early sixties. The Italian language 
 and characters rather lends itself to this. 
 
 I have not forgotten that it was to Colonel Bumaby 
 I owe the pleasure of meeting the pathetic old Revolu- 
 tionist. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 A CARDINAL AND A CANAL 
 
 Cardinal Manning Comes to Luncheon — A Faux Pas — A surprise — 
 Cardinal Manning and Cardinal Newman Disagree — I Sail for 
 India — Tea at Ismailia with Mons. Lesseps — He Recounts Some 
 of His Difficulties and the Opening of the Canal. 
 
 MY husband's leave being nearly at an end, he 
 had to return to India alone, as I was not 
 strong enough at the time for the journey ; 
 it being arranged I should follow in the spring. Mean- 
 while I stayed a good deal with my people in York- 
 shire. My youngest brother being at home, and he 
 being a most amusing person, we managed to pass the 
 time pleasantly. My father and my brother being 
 witty, there was no chance of feeling dull ; they both 
 excelled in telling good stories against themselves. 
 Add to this the boundless hospitality of the dear old 
 people, who were kind enough to say they loved 
 having us back, and the picture of my surroundings 
 at that time is more or less complete. 
 
 It was during this autumn visit that Cardinal 
 Manning, an old friend of my mother's, came to stay 
 at Coulby. I believe he had high hopes of her joining 
 his Church, which hope was eventually passed on to 
 me, both cases ending in disappointment. All the 
 Catholics in the county were, of course, anxious to 
 meet this holy man. A big luncheon was therefore 
 given to afford them an opportunity of seeing and 
 conversing with him. 
 
 In the morning, when my mother was giving the 
 orders for the day, she told my father to be sure not 
 to forget to ask the Cardinal to say grace before 
 luncheon. Being a somewhat absent-minded person 
 
 6i 
 
62 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 she also impressed upon him that he must not go out 
 shooting and forget he had to appear at luncheon. 
 
 He vowed he would not forget. My brother and 
 I had grave doubts about his remembering, and 
 arranged between us a system by which at the last 
 moment we could remind him. Our system was not 
 called into action, as father turned up in time for 
 luncheon. The Cardinal and his secretary descended 
 from the privacy of the rooms that had been set apart 
 for them, in which to attend to their correspondence 
 and so forth. When all were seated at the table, my 
 father stood up and, looking towards the Cardinal, 
 said, in a clear and rather pompous voice, '* Will Your 
 Grace say Eminence ? '' We all bent our heads 
 becomingly, and his *' Grace " said '' Eminence " as 
 if nothing unusual had been requested, but from under 
 my drooping eyelids I peeped at my brother, who at 
 the same moment peeped at me, after which we found 
 it difficult to keep our faces from betraying our feelings 
 of amusement. 
 
 Our surprises were not yet over for the day, though 
 the food had been blessed, and thanks returned for it, 
 for when the servants announced that the carriage 
 was at the door to take the Cardinal away to the 
 station, everybody, much to the surprise of myself 
 and brother, flocked after the good man, into the 
 front hall portico, anywhere and everywhere that 
 they could find room, throwing themselves down on 
 their knees asking his blessing. Here again my breath 
 was taken away, it being my first experience of the 
 reverence Catholics have for the dignitaries of their 
 Church. I looked at my brother, who was pale green 
 from his endeavours not to laugh at the unexpected- 
 ness of everybody falling on their knees. An old 
 lady suddenly fell on her knees in front of him, he 
 tried to pick her up, with expressions of sorrow at the 
 possibility of her having hurt herself. He only met 
 with rebuff, being angrily shaken off. I edged my 
 way through the crowd to where my brother was, lean- 
 ing against one of the big stone pillars of the front door, 
 
A CARDINAL AND A CANAL 63 
 
 and touched his arm to attract his attention to the 
 butler who was standing in the middle of the hall. 
 Long service had taught him never to be surprised 
 at anything ; there he stood surrounded by kneeling 
 people while he was trying to keep a big fur rug with 
 many hanging tails of silver fox from tickling their 
 noses; he had been on the way to wrap it himself 
 round His Holiness^s legs, a great concession if only 
 the good man had known it. His good intentions had 
 been cut short by everybody round him falling on their 
 knees, but not a muscle of his face moved ; he stood 
 erect, eyes front the whole time. I was beginning to 
 feel hysterical. 
 
 It was really a most impressive sight and nothing 
 to laugh at ; it was the unexpectedness of it all that 
 was upsetting. My brother heard the footman whisper 
 to an understudy, '' Hought we to kneel down, do you 
 think ? '' receiving the reply, *' Not likely, look at 
 Mr. 'Arrison " (Harrison the butler). 
 
 The first shock of surprise having worn off, we were 
 feeling impressed with the picturesqueness of the 
 scene and the earnestness of the Catholics, and when 
 I saw my dear old father, who had a great respect and 
 reverence for religion in any form, go down on his 
 knees to be blessed and saw the beautiful ascetic 
 face of the priest bending over him, laying his hands 
 softly on the dear head I had watched grow grey, I 
 put my hand into my brother's and we shut our eyes 
 and prayed too for blessings on the kindest of fathers. 
 
 Many times that scene has come back to me, often 
 in strange out-of-the-way places ; the picture of 
 Cardinal Manning stepping into the carriage, turning 
 for a moment, lifting up his hands and, moving them 
 as if to collect and embrace all present, in a clear voice 
 asking God's blessing on the inmates of the house, and 
 all present. There seemed to come a hush over every 
 living thing. The coachman, who had been looking 
 amused, took off his hat in an apologetic sort of way ; 
 even the horses seemed to feel something in the air 
 and ceased champing their bits. 
 
64 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 It was some years before I met Cardinal Manning 
 again. He was then Archbishop of Westminster, and 
 wrote to me a touchingly kind letter on hearing the 
 terrible sorrow that had come to me in losing my little 
 son. From then, to the time of the Cardinal's death, 
 we were in touch with one another. He was most 
 anxious I should find comfort in the faith that was 
 so much to him ; like all converts he was an enthu- 
 siastic and energetic worker for the faith of his adop- 
 tion, though certainly he was more tolerant and gentle 
 with people not his way of thinking than is often the 
 case, to which I attribute much of his popularity and 
 successful work for the Master he served and so truly 
 loved. He possessed that rare gift of being able to 
 express other people's thoughts and feelings in lan- 
 guage to meet their tastes, whether from tact or 
 sympathy I know not, possibly from a combination of 
 the two. 
 
 One of the peculiarities of the Cardinal was that 
 he looked much taller than he was ; his dignified 
 carriage and ascetic appearance, I think, must have 
 created this impression; he was, in reality, just above 
 medium height. 
 
 From his appearance you would have imagined he 
 dined off orange juice and French beans, or some such 
 light nourishment, whereas he thoroughly enjoyed a 
 good meal, quite unHke Father Stanton of St. Albans 
 fame, who never knew what he was eating ; it was 
 ** food '* and that was all that mattered, often eaten 
 while roving up and down the room. Cardinal Manning 
 knew exactly what he was eating and the proper con- 
 sistency of the sauces as they should be. It was 
 rather refreshing to find he could be of this world as 
 well as in it. 
 
 I do not think he aggressively valued his power 
 and position, though undoubtedly he appreciated the 
 advantages it afforded him. He had a great under- 
 standing of humanity and by no means considered it 
 the proper thing when affronted to turn the other 
 cheek, for which people respected him. 
 
A CARDINAL AND A CANAL 65 
 
 There is a story that once The Times ventured to 
 criticise an address he had been giving, and suggested 
 His Eminence had become a trifle mixed between 
 cause and effect. This was not allowed to pass un- 
 noticed, and he replied telling them their criticism 
 sounded like the would-be clever remarks of an under- 
 graduate, but perhaps this was only natural, as he 
 had been told The Times was now mostly written by 
 undergraduates. Personally I wondered at his deign- 
 ing to take any notice of the criticism ; it seemed to 
 me to savour of the schoolboy tu quoque, but no 
 doubt he felt better after it. Nevertheless he was a 
 very saintly person, who found a large field for work, 
 as his saintliness did not prevent him seeing things 
 at a more useful level than over the tops of people's 
 heads. We may greatly admire the goodness of holy 
 men who are so happy in the saintly clouds themselves, 
 they are unable to descend to the level of working 
 humanity, but we do not find them very helpful, ex- 
 cept as ideals to strive after. 
 
 As the diplomatists would say, the relations between 
 Cardinal Manning and Cardinal Newman were a little 
 strained latterly, in consequence of Newman wanting 
 to build a college for Roman Catholics at Oxford and 
 Manning opposing it. The one thing in Cardinal 
 Manning's life I did not quite like was his attitude 
 towards Cardinal Newman, and I thought he opposed 
 the college scheme on which Cardinal Newman had 
 set his heart with unnecessary force, that is, if the use- 
 fulness of the scheme was the only consideration. I 
 shall always think there was a little jealousy between 
 these two good men. Humanity, poor Humanity ; even 
 between these two good men there was some littleness, 
 and I think they both fell a little out of favour with 
 the Pope in consequence. 
 
 It was Cardinal Newman who wrote that beautiful 
 hymn, *' Lead, Kindly Light," that has brought healing 
 on its wings to many, for who could hear it unmoved ? 
 He wrote it lying in the bottom of an orange boat off 
 the Straits of Bonifacio in 1833. 
 
66 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Writing of Archbishops reminds me of a story told 
 of Archbishop Harcourt, when staying with some 
 friends. Before his arrival the butler had been priming 
 the footman and page boy on the proper way of 
 addressing Church dignitaries, not so much because 
 he thought there was any chance of their having to 
 address them, as with a view of impressing those in 
 a position beneath him with his knowledge of etiquette. 
 It so happened that when his lordship came out of his 
 room where he had been writing letters he met the 
 footman, to whom he said, *' Is there anybody who 
 can post these letters for me ? " Remembering his 
 lessons in etiquette the footman replied, '' Yes, the 
 lord, my boy.'' Whether this really happened to 
 Archbishop Harcourt or not, I cannot say for certain, 
 but so the story goes, and has been saddled on the 
 backs of many since then. 
 
 When a sentence is begun wrongly I have observed 
 it often continues wrong the whole way through. 
 A friend of mine wished one day to tell me she would 
 like to be able to go to Marshall and Snelgrove's shop, 
 in Oxford Street, to pick and choose anything she 
 fancied, regardless of cost. This is what she suc- 
 ceeded in saying, *' I wish I could have the chick and 
 poose of everything in Narshall and Smelgrove's ! " 
 
 Spring came at last and with it a very precious 
 little son, born to me in the midst of a heavy thunder- 
 storm, who after making the happiness of my life for 
 three years was buried amid another heavy thunder- 
 storm, thereby fulfilling the prophecy of an old gipsy 
 woman I met on the road, shortly before the baby was 
 bom. She asked me to buy some clothes pegs that she 
 was carrying. I did not want any, and told her I had 
 no money with me ; she then wished to tell my fortune, 
 but feeling that sufficient unto the day was the evil 
 thereof, I declined; she then cursed me, saying she 
 could read the future and I should have a son born 
 to me amid the vengeance of the skies and within 
 five years he would be buried amid the vengeance of 
 the skies. 
 
A CARDINAL AND A CANAL 67 
 
 It was when this little son was eight weeks old I 
 took him with me to join my husband in India. When 
 I dressed again after my retirement I found I had out- 
 grown all my pretty clothes, having added about 
 another inch in height, so all haste had to be made 
 to let out '* some tucks/' 
 
 I sailed from Southampton by P. and O. for Bom- 
 bay, thinking it better for the baby than going over- 
 land. I cannot remember the name of the boat, but 
 fancy it was the Cathay ; at any rate that name keeps 
 returning to my mind. I was to have sailed in the 
 Hindustan, but was delayed in England until a later 
 boat, which was just as well, the Hindustan being 
 wrecked on the voyage out. 
 
 My journey to Bombay was uneventful, with the 
 exception of being met at Gibraltar by some friends 
 and relations stationed there at the time, who took 
 me ashore and showed me as much of the Rock as 
 time permitted. At Malta a cousin in the Black 
 Watch came to meet me. He afterwards was killed 
 at the battle of Tamai in Egypt, both legs being shot 
 off. He was elder brother of the Park in the Devon- 
 shire Regiment who took part in the defence of Lady- 
 smith and was the hero of Wagon Hill. I shall have 
 more to say of him later. 
 
 At Suez I was told somebody was asking if I was 
 on board. This somebody was informed of my where- 
 abouts and I saw advancing along the deck towards 
 me a little man in white duck or drill garments, a sun 
 helmet with a flap behind, to keep the sun off his neck, 
 and wearing big blue goggles. When hat and goggles 
 were removed I beheld a grey-headed little man with 
 very bright eyes, a big grey moustache and charming 
 manner, bowing to me and saying mutual friends in 
 Paris had asked him to meet and see if he could 
 do anything for me, and his name was Lesseps. I at 
 once realised I was being addressed by the great 
 engineer, Vicomte Ferdinand de Lesseps of Suez 
 Canal fame, and cousin of the Empress Eugenie. 
 At Suez and in Egypt generally, he was spoken of and 
 
68 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 addressed as Monsieur Lesseps. After the manner of 
 the French, who always try to please, and whom it 
 does not do to take too seriously, he made me some 
 pretty speeches about it being one of the happiest 
 moments of his life, he had heard so much about me, 
 etc., the froth that is so pleasant and agreeable, 
 knowing exactly how much it is all worth, and feeling 
 grateful to our friends and acquaintances for taking 
 so much trouble to try and please, and there it rests. 
 
 Monsieur Lesseps asked me if I would visit his 
 little hut at Ismailia. His steam launch was awaiting 
 my pleasure. I explained that as we were going on 
 again shortly I feared there would not be time, but 
 he said he could manage all that if I would go with 
 him, and off he went to interview the skipper, return- 
 ing to say all was arranged, adding no ships were 
 allowed to travel at night in the Canal, and that when 
 ours anchored, he would bring me back again to rejoin. 
 So I gladly agreed to go with him, feeling rather 
 important in his fussy little launch and yet very small 
 beside the big liner. 
 
 I had a delightful time with my most interesting 
 companion. He talked in the most open and engaging 
 way of all his hopes and fears, of his experiences in 
 his gigantic undertaking of joining up the Red Sea and 
 the Mediterranean over which the French people had 
 spent twenty millions, of the opposition he had met 
 with, and his pride in having been the man to accom- 
 plish what had been considered a hopeless task, telling 
 me what I had not known before, namely, that the 
 idea was not the child of his own brain. It had been 
 under consideration as far back as the time of the 
 Pharaohs, centuries before Christ. 
 
 The little Frenchman was full of anecdote and 
 gesticulation, describing some of his encounters with 
 those who had opposed his scheme, and proud of his 
 versatility, saying he had been sent on a diplomatic 
 mission in 1849 ^^ Rome and Spain, and then had 
 come to dig and delve in the sandy desert. 
 
 There is a story told of this enterprising man when 
 
A CARDINAL AND A CANAL 69 
 
 first he arrived at Suez to superintend the making of 
 the Canal. 
 
 He rode out into the desert. There he saw a sohtary 
 lonesome-looking workman leaning on his spade lost 
 in contemplation, so he called out to him, *' Bon jour, 
 mon brave, que faites-vous done ici ? " receiving the 
 reply, '* Ma foi, monsieur, mais je vais construire le 
 Canal de Suez." 
 
 '* Bien ! et ce gamin-la ? '' pointing to a small boy 
 in the distance. 
 
 '* II cherche du bois, monsieur, pour nous construire 
 une maison." 
 
 The ** maison " being the wooden building at 
 Ismailia on Lake Timsah. And in this little abode I 
 drank tea and passed a delightful afternoon. Every- 
 thing in it was of the severest simplicity. Material 
 comforts found no place in his daily life. His mind 
 was always working at concert pitch, what he ate and 
 where he slept was of minor consequence, for even 
 when the Canal was finished, and had been in use for 
 some years, much of his time was taken up, looking 
 after the dredging and care of the costly undertaking. 
 
 Having been so successful with the Suez Canal, 
 Monsieur Lesseps felt certain he could with time, per- 
 severance and money, again conquer all the difficulties 
 attached to canal making at Panama, with what suc- 
 cess we all know. 
 
 I have often thought perhaps enough was not 
 allowed for this man's sanguine temperament. He 
 was so hopeful and full of belief in himself, which in 
 life is more than half the battle, and carries you riding 
 over many awkward places successfully, for un- 
 doubtedly if you think yourself a worm you soon 
 become one. 
 
 After I had been shown over the bungalow or hut, 
 as he called his abode on Lake Timsah, my host took 
 me in his launch on to the Bitter Lakes. In the Canal 
 I have at different times seen most wonderful mirages, 
 and this afternoon on the Lakes I plainly saw ships 
 where no ships were, water where no water was, yet 
 
70 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 so natural I could hardly beli"eve it was only one of 
 nature's little practical jokes, a joke that has been 
 bitter disappointment, and often death to many a 
 desert traveller. 
 
 Happy days come to an end all too soon, and before 
 I had heard half I wished to hear it was time to return 
 to the ship. 
 
 Monsieur Lesseps and I had a most impressive 
 farewell, vowing eternal friendship and many more 
 meetings, though as a matter of fact I did not see 
 him again until 1882, when he was in England on 
 business connected with some arrangements he was 
 making with the P. and O. Steamship Company about 
 improvements and sanitary arrangements in the Suez 
 Canal. 
 
 But he assured me he was going to build a palace 
 for me at Panama when the Canal was finished there, 
 and leave it to me in his will, and many more little 
 pleasantries of the same kind. 
 
 There stands to-day at Suez the life-sized figure of 
 the man who linked up two sides of the world, looking 
 over the narrow waterway he cut through a hundred 
 miles of desert, who thought out, and brought to a 
 successful issue, what the architects and workmen of 
 the Pyramids had failed to do, but I like best to think 
 of him steaming up and down the Canal in his launch 
 and not as the disillusioned and broken-hearted old 
 man with all the sparkle gone from his eyes. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 INDIA AND SOME GENERALS 
 
 I Arrive in Bombay — Experience a Shock — A Trying Journey — An 
 Indian table d'hdte — I Meet General Ewart — How He Annoyed Sir 
 Colin Campbell — Sir Colin Uses Swear Words — General Ewart 
 Loses His Arm — English Lady in a Harem — An Hotel Experience — 
 General Ewart to the Rescue. 
 
 AT Bombay my husband met me and was in- 
 
 iJL troduced to his son, whom he had the bad 
 -A. A. taste to say resembled all other babies, 
 except that it was not red in the face. 
 
 My first visit to Bombay is as fresh in my memory 
 as if it was yesterday ; why I do not know, unless it 
 was from the series of shocks I experienced there. 
 First of all the dress, or want of it, amongst the 
 natives appalled me, little children running about 
 with a piece of string tied round their middles, the rest 
 being birthday kit, pure and simple. I asked my 
 spouse if he did not think it horrid, though less 
 reprehensible in the children than the grown-ups. 
 He said he did not notice it. Having been some years 
 in India I suppose he had become hardened, as indeed 
 I myself soon became. After ail, it is only a matter of 
 habit. 
 
 Shock number two was when we arrived at the 
 Byculla Hotel, owned by a Parsee who strutted about 
 with a tall sort of sugar-loaf black hat on his head, 
 white buttoned-up jacket, rather tight-fitting white 
 trousers, made so long that they formed concertina 
 sort of crinkles all up his legs ; on his feet he wore 
 patent-leather shoes with white pearl buttons sewn 
 on in fantastic patterns. 
 
 This may now be a most luxurious palace of an 
 
 71 
 
72 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 hotel, but at that time left much to be desired. I had 
 been so looking forward to a nice bath of fresh water, 
 the salt water on board ship left one feeling so sticky. 
 When I was told it was ready I hurried off to enjoy it. 
 
 I forgot to mention I had in addition to my English 
 nurse brought out an ayah who had been recommended 
 to me by a lady who, having lately returned to 
 England with children, wished to find someone to take 
 her back. So the ayah, Junie by name, led me to my 
 bathroom, which consisted of a dark sort of cupboard, 
 partitioned off a corner of the bedroom; the upper 
 part of the door was glass to allow some light to pene- 
 trate, over this hung a draggled curtain of dirt colour. 
 
 Never shall I forget my feelings when I first beheld my 
 bath. It had once been a large barrel, now cut in half. 
 It stood on a bare sort of earthwork, beaten fiat and 
 hard, I believe it was called chunam or some such 
 name, but I was past making any enquiries as to its 
 proper title, or how it was spelt. My arrival in the 
 bathroom evidently disturbed its many inhabitants, 
 for there was in front of me a galloping crowd of the 
 most repellent-looking beetles I ever beheld. One 
 reddish-brown thing about two inches long had large 
 feelers, which it waved about as if it meant to contest 
 my right there. It nearly took my breath away. 
 Having always had a horror of shrieking women, and 
 those who make a fuss over trifles, I crushed my 
 desires to call someone to slay the monster, and it 
 hurried away with the rest when it saw my deter- 
 mined attitude. Considering the number of beetles 
 they showed great ability in hiding themselves quickly, 
 for soon, though I could hear a sort of crackling of 
 their feet, as they packed themselves away under my 
 bath and elsewhere, none were to be seen. I then 
 boldly stepped into my bath, keeping an eye all round 
 for any fresh horrors. The tub was so slimy I nearly 
 had a sideslip while getting in; I then found a 
 variety of small black things, something like our 
 EngUsh tadpoles in their early stages, falling on me 
 from my sponge, and discovered the water was full of 
 
INDIA AND SOME GENERALS 73 
 
 them. I had always rather prided myself upon being 
 agile and athletic, but I now surpassed myself, and was 
 out of the bathroom in a surprisingly short time. 
 I verily believe if the King of the Cannibal Islands had 
 been holding his court in the adjoining room I should 
 have done just the same. 
 
 I resolved that no more baths would I have, until I 
 reached our destination at Sitapur, the other side of 
 Lucknow ; where my husband declared the baths 
 were not slimy or full of wild animals. I observed he 
 had to allow in appearance they were much after the 
 pattern of the one in the hotel, like half a barrel only 
 not narrower at the top than the bottom. I enquired 
 if there were any beetles at Sitapur, and he spoke with 
 some reserve on the subject, but he assured me I 
 should find everything nice and ready for my reception. 
 
 The hot weather having started in earnest, the journey 
 up-country was trying, and nothing would persuade me 
 it could possibly be correct to have the windows of the 
 railway carriages shut and begged my husband to 
 leave them open so that I might get a little fresh air ! 
 He protested, but gave in to his '' favourite wife's ! " 
 entreaties, enduring the heat as best he could, until I 
 began to be light-headed. He then insisted on shutting 
 them, but of course by that time the carriage was like 
 a furnace, and no hope of its being much better until 
 night, when the windows could be opened with safety. 
 Sleep was out of the question. The poor baby was 
 nearly melted, but seemed to resent it less than the rest 
 of us. The nurse cursed her fate, and wished she had 
 never left home, my husband was miserable at my 
 discomfort, and I was past caring what became of me, 
 while to add to my misery the India-rubber pillow 
 that could be blown up for use and collapse at other 
 times, which I had been advised to bring out from 
 home, melted and stuck to my neck and hair ! 
 
 The food provided for the travelling public at the 
 railway stations in those days was beyond me, the 
 bread was grey and the butter a delicate shade of 
 green, reminding me of badly made zinc ointment. 
 
74 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 At last we reached Lucknow, which was as far as 
 we could go by rail. We continued our journey after 
 that in a dak ghari, which is rather like a bathing- 
 machine with doors at each side, that slide backwards 
 and forwards, as desired. Boards are put up, and on 
 them, pillows, rugs, and sometimes mattresses, on 
 which you lie down and try to sleep while miserable 
 little ponies, changed every few miles, carry you 
 through the night, or day as the case may be, to your 
 destination. The monotony is relieved at intervals by 
 the ponies refusing to go any further, or when fresh 
 ones are put in, by refusing to start, when the driver 
 tells them awful things about their relations, and that 
 is why they are so perverse. These revelations some- 
 times make me wish / had not learnt Hindustani. 
 If this fails to bring about better behaviour, he makes 
 strange noises to them, curious sort of grunts and 
 guttural sounds of scolding, followed by plaintive 
 expostulations, and then comes desperation and the 
 ponies are severely beaten, while being told they are 
 ungrateful children, to refuse to start with raw 
 shoulders and half-starved bodies, and that if they 
 knew their business they would start at once and 
 gallop the whole way. 
 
 We thought we would rest the night and a day at 
 Lucknow in an hotel before going on. Here I met 
 with another surprise, though of a milder form, for the 
 hotel keepers, man and wife, sat at the top and bottom 
 of the table at meals acting as host and hostess, while 
 we were paying for hotel accommodation and food. 
 This made me feel uncomfortable, as I did not like to 
 ask for marmalade, instead of jam, or any other small 
 detail, feeling as if I were looking a gift horse in the 
 mouth, while really there was no gift about it. Both 
 the people in question were English, or somewhere 
 near it, and very pleasant, but the situation was novel 
 to me. I remember at the table d'hote dinner the 
 night we arrived, a fine old man with one arm sat next 
 to me, so I offered to cut up his dinner for him. He 
 said it would be very kind of me, but that his servant 
 
INDIA AND SOME GENERALS 75 
 
 usually did it for him, though of course it would be 
 much nicer if I would do it. We then entered into 
 conversation. He said I had evidently just come from 
 home and was not used to Indian ways. He had 
 observed my surprise at the proprietors acting host 
 and hostess, explaining it was a very usual custom in 
 India, having its advantages as well as its dis- 
 advantages. He then told me he had that day 
 returned to Lucknow for the first time since the 
 Mutiny. He was very interesting, telling me of many 
 things in connection with that time I had not known 
 before, also that on the following day he was going to 
 look for the graves of his cousin, Colonel John Ewart, 
 his wife and little daughter, who were murdered in 
 the Massacre of Cawnpore, and for the graves of others 
 in the Residency grounds. I longed to go too, he 
 would have so much to tell of every corner in that 
 now beautifully kept place where the flag is always 
 flying, the only one that is not lowered at sunset, but 
 still floats day and night in memory of the heroes who 
 saw it shot down ten times, but always replaced it, 
 keeping it flying to the end against such fearful odds, 
 but I felt that he would naturally rather go alone. 
 
 When I left the table to go and see my baby have 
 its bath and asked him to excuse me, he said, '* You 
 have got a baby ? " 1 said with some pride, *' Yes.'' 
 He smiled and said, '* But you are only a baby your- 
 self." I did not quite like this, for I was now feeling 
 very grown-up, but my husband seemed tickled. 
 Later I asked my lord who the one-armed man was ? 
 and he replied, ''General Ewart." This did not convey 
 much to me then, but before long I heard all about 
 his very eventful life. 
 
 Some little time after this first meeting, a racing 
 pony of my husband's ran away with me, ending by 
 slipping up, and both of us were a good deal hurt. 
 When I was well enough to lie in the verandah General 
 Ewart, who happened to be staying near, used to come 
 and sit with me and talk of his interesting experiences 
 in the Crimea and Mutiny. I told him he ought to 
 
76 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 write a book of his life, he said perhaps he would some 
 day. His son, the present Sir John Spencer Ewart, 
 now tells me he eventually did this, and I find many 
 of the incidents he mentioned to me are referred to 
 in it. 
 
 One of the things he was most proud of was having 
 served throughout the Crimea without being off duty 
 one single day, and under canvas the whole time. 
 
 When at Balaclava Lord Raglan sent Captain 
 Ewart with a message to the irascible Sir Colin 
 Campbell asking why certain stores that had been 
 expected for some time had not arrived, as he wished 
 to form a depot for them at Balaclava. Not quite 
 liking the idea of delivering this message to Sir Colin, 
 Captain Ewart persuaded some one else to carry it 
 for him, and was congratulating himself on his little 
 manoeuvre when he heard that no answer had been 
 returned, but instead Sir Colin had rushed off to head- 
 quarters saying he had been insulted and had received 
 impertinent messages from Captain Ewart, who was 
 at once sent for and asked to explain himself : this 
 he did and was much relieved to see a smile spread 
 over Lord Raglan's face. He heard no more about it, 
 but thought Sir Colin never quite forgave him. Later, 
 when serving under him again in the Mutiny at 
 Lucknow, during the storming of the Secunder-Bagh, 
 when the Highlanders had nearly cleared it of the 
 enemy. Captain Ewart found the colours of the foe 
 guarded by two white-robed chiefs ; he determined to 
 capture these and had a hand-to-hand fight over them, 
 which ended in his killing the guard and carrying off 
 the colours in triumph. He was scrambling through 
 the hole in the wall by which he had entered, minus 
 his bonnet, which had been lost in the fighting, and very 
 dirty and dishevelled, when he saw Sir Colin Campbell, 
 to whom he wished to present the colours. The 
 moment he caught sight of Captain Ewart the General 
 shouted out, '' Get back to your regiment. Sir, at 
 once.'' In vain Captain Ewart tried to explain, but 
 could not get a word in edgeways, so at last quite 
 
PJtotc^ra/>h I'v Maitli &■ FoX" 
 
 SIR JOHN EWAKT 
 
INDIA AND SOME GENERALS ^^ 
 
 exasperated he called out, ** I have just killed the last 
 two of the enemy with my own hands and here is one 
 of their colours, Sir/' Some of his staff gave him a 
 cheer, but I am afraid the General said **Damn the 
 colours," after which perhaps he felt better, at any 
 rate he said '' Thank you '' rather ungraciously and 
 handed the colours to one of his staff with instructions 
 to remember from whom he had received them. 
 
 General Ewart, as he was when he told me the story, 
 said he felt very crestfallen, as he thought he had 
 done a fine thing. At the time he was wounded in 
 two places and had his arm in a sling. 
 
 The sequel to his story is sad, as the colours when 
 being sent home by Sir Colin Campbell were lost 
 at sea. 
 
 I was under the impression that General Ewart lost 
 his arm at Lucknow, I thought he told me so when 
 describing how it happened, but his son tells me it was 
 at Cawnpore after the relief of Lucknow. He was 
 Colonel at the time, and his regiment, the 93rd High- 
 landers, had to advance and clear the buildings in 
 front of them of the mutineers. While standing trying 
 to see where the enemy were, a cannon shot carried 
 away his left arm. At first he did not know what had 
 happened but knew he was hit, and on the left side ; 
 looking down he found his arm hanging by a piece of 
 skin, and on seeing the extent of the damage was 
 surprised the blow had not knocked him down, being 
 especially annoyed to find his field-glasses smashed. 
 One of the *' Thin Red Line " who had been with him 
 in the Redan ran up and tied his handkerchief round 
 the bleeding stump, then carried him off to a bungalow 
 which had been converted into a hospital. 
 
 The regimental doctor cut off the hanging arm with 
 a pair of scissors and said the stump must be removed, 
 but it could not be done then, as it would kill him 
 following so quickly on the loss of the arm and the shock 
 he had experienced ; however, he begged so hard to 
 have the stump removed that the Doctor gave in, 
 and the operation was performed under chloroform. 
 
78 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 When Colonel Ewart recovered from the effects of 
 the anaesthetic he found he was back in the doolie 
 comfortably bandaged up. Unfortunately his arm 
 did not do well, partly from want of attention as the 
 doctors were so busy, and partly from climatic and 
 sanitary conditions, gangrene set in ; various efforts 
 were made to bum it out but were ineffectual, mean- 
 while the flies and mosquitoes were maddening. He 
 felt something must be done if he was to have a 
 chance of living, so asked the doctors to operate 
 again, but was told they were much too busy. He was 
 now removed into a room full of men suffering from 
 dysentery and was enduring agonies from pleurodynia, 
 which he told me is a sort of cross between neuralgia 
 and rheumatism, added to which he was a mass of 
 bed sores, and quite unable to move himself in the 
 smallest degree, his legs being quite useless, one arm 
 gone and the other wounded. 
 
 A friend of his finding him in this miserable con- 
 dition had him moved into a bungalow where the air 
 and surroundings would be better for him, and after a 
 while he was able to go home. I remember him 
 telling me after all those horrible experiences the 
 Government would do nothing towards his return 
 journey ! 
 
 It used to annoy and surprise Colonel Ewart to find 
 he felt pain in the arm that was gone ; the doctors told 
 him the feeling would wear off but it never did entirely. 
 This often happens, I know, for once when I was 
 nursing a man who had lost his leg he kept calling out 
 about the pain in his foot and wanting me to move it 
 for him, and others have told me they have felt pain in 
 limbs they have lost. 
 
 The accounts General Ewart gave me of what he 
 found when first his regiment arrived before Cawnpore 
 directly after the massacre are almost too painful to 
 write about. The men who had been chosen to kill 
 the women and children were butchers by trade. 
 When the General entered the room where the orders 
 had been carried out he said he felt he could cry, the 
 
INDIA AND SOME GENERALS 79 
 
 sights that jnet his eyes were so touching, children's 
 Httle shoes here, locks of women's hair there, picture 
 books steeped in blood, red finger-marks on the 
 splashed walls where little children had tried to save 
 themselves when their turn came, after seeing the 
 others done to death. 
 
 A few good-looking girls and children were spared 
 and taken to live in the harems, and General Ewart told 
 me a strange story of an Englishwoman that he knew 
 was in one of the palaces living behind the purdah : 
 she was one of the children captured at that time and 
 believed to have been murdered : and that a mission- 
 ary's wife had seen and talked to her, but she had 
 now no wish to leave the place where she had spent 
 the greater part of her life, and appeared quite content 
 as one of the wives of a fat native. She remembered 
 being captured and shut up with several other women 
 and children ; they were all put into one bungalow 
 for some time and quite expected to be murdered when 
 the right moment came, but after a while they were 
 moved away in covered bullock carts, some in one 
 direction and some in another. She never again saw 
 any of her companions in captivity, and had forgotten 
 most of her English, but recognised some words. 
 General Ewart, when he heard of this Englishwoman 
 in a harem, went to the chief political officer of the 
 neighbourhood and said he should like to be able to 
 help her to escape ; the agent said he would see what 
 could be done, only to tell the General a little later 
 that the lady had no wish to be rescued and had been 
 removed elsewhere for her health. 
 
 General Ewart was one of the first to meet Kavanagh 
 when he escaped from the Residency in hopes of 
 guiding Sir Colin Campbell and giving him information 
 as to the best way to reach the besieged. 
 
 Many times I have wandered round the Residency 
 grounds and stood looking at the mouth of the main 
 drain down which that brave man crept in his disguise, 
 and pictured the friendly group around him, almost 
 speechless at his daring, some wringing his hands and 
 
8o MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 wishing him God-speed, Sir James Outram himself 
 putting little finishing touches to his disguise, and 
 another friend presenting him with a double-barrelled 
 pistol, wherewith to put an end to his life if captured, 
 but I am not writing of Kavanagh. I almost wish I 
 were, for I have spent many evenings in those grounds 
 alone with the spirits of the dead. At first the 
 gardeners, kept there to preserve all in order, and just 
 as it was left (except that now there are beautiful 
 plants and flowers growing amongst the graves), 
 insisted on following me around, explaining to me, 
 this is where the ayah died and was buried, because 
 she would not leave the English babies in her charge ; 
 this is where Kavanagh Sahib went down the drain, 
 and so forth. I used to wonder if these native 
 gardeners ever felt ashamed amidst it all. Once when 
 nobody was looking I tucked my skirts tightly around 
 me and tried to creep a little way down the drain just 
 to see how much room there was and what it felt like, 
 but I did not go far, and when I ventured down it was 
 not used as a drain but was sweet and clean, which I 
 understand was not the case when Kavanagh shared 
 it with the rats. 
 
 General Ewart came to my rescue when I had only 
 been a short time in India and had not learnt much 
 of the language. I was on my way down from the 
 hills with my baby and English nurse, my husband 
 having been obliged to stay behind at the depot with 
 the invalids for a little longer. I managed fairly well 
 until it was time to leave the hotel where I had rested 
 during the heat of the day. I had been told to start 
 away about lo p.m., so as to arrive at my next halting- 
 place at a convenient time the following morning. 
 I was rejoiced to find General Ewart staying in the 
 hotel while on a tour of inspection ; he retired to bed 
 early as he had a headache and wished to be up and 
 away early in the morning. Everybody on the place 
 seemed to retire unconscionably early, for not a 
 soul could be seen or heard by the time I had to 
 start. I had packed my belongings into the ghari 
 
INDIA AND SOME GENERALS 8i 
 
 and then proceeded to pack myself in, when I found 
 I was held up by a crowd of natives all demanding tips 
 and payment for something. I gave an ayah whom 
 I had never set eyes on before a tip, also the man 
 who had waited on me at dinner, but still there was 
 a crowd salaaming and addressing me eloquently. I 
 endeavoured to tell the driver to go on, but he was 
 evidently in league with the beggars and pretended 
 not to understand. At last in desperation I got out of 
 the vehicle, went back into the hotel, which was now 
 all in darkness, succeeded in getting a light from my 
 travelling-bag, and wrote a note to General Ewart, 
 asking him what I was to do, as the servants would 
 not let me leave the hotel without my tipping a 
 crowd and I only had a limited supply of change 
 until I arrived at my destination. I then sent 
 this note to the General hoping it might reach 
 him ; and waited in the ghari for help of some 
 sort. In a very few minutes General Ewart arrived 
 in his pyjamas and a military coat, his hair standing 
 on end like a cockatoo's ; the crowd at once began 
 to melt; he addressed them like a father, an angry 
 father; I could not understand what he said, but 
 gathered from his expression and the effect it had on 
 the natives that it was to the point. He became so 
 carried away by what he was saying that the coat 
 slipped off his shoulders, much to his discomfort ; 
 I thought he looked very nice in his elegant pyjamas, 
 but he was overcome with shyness and threw some coin 
 to those of the servants who were left and told them 
 to divide it amongst themselves and clear off the 
 premises. 
 
 I asked my deliverer what I owed him, but he 
 said he would let me know by post as it was time I 
 was starting and we were both losing our beauty 
 sleeps. 
 
 During the latter part of Sir John's life he was 
 A.D.C. to the Queen and became a familiar figure 
 strolling down the sunny side of Piccadilly with his 
 empty sleeve. Many missed him when he died, and 
 
82 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 his favourite haunts knew him no more. And so we 
 jog along; the phenomenon of yesterday becomes the 
 commonplace of to-day. Now we look almost in 
 wonder if we pass khaki-clad figures in Piccadilly 
 with all the proper accompaniment of arms and legs. 
 It gives this mouse pleasure to remember she once 
 was able to help the lion in so small a measure as to 
 cut up his dinner for him. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 STORIES FROM MAJUBA 
 
 Our Indian Bungalow — The Table Decorations Go to Sleep — A Munshi 
 Teaches Me Hindustani — I Meet Sir George and Lady White in 
 their Younger Days — I Take Sir George for a Drive — Mr. Ian 
 Hamilton — In Afghanistan — At Majuba — Sends Many Reports — 
 How They were Received — General Colley Asleep — What Hap- 
 pened while He Slept. 
 
 I MADE my entry into Sitapur early in the 
 morning, the most beautiful part of an Indian 
 day. It was restful to be in something one 
 could call '* home " again. Our bungalow was a 
 trifle primitive when first I viewed it. The furniture 
 had been hired from some native dealer and was not 
 artistic. The dealers in hired furniture make a good 
 thing out of the officers of the different regiments as 
 they come and go; one hiring about pays for the 
 furniture in the house, and all who require it after- 
 wards help to make the dealer rich, for it is then 
 pure profit. 
 
 My drawing-room was a fair size, with the inevit- 
 able round table in the middle of the room, on which 
 stood a posy of flowers in a glass jam-jar. The arrange- 
 ment of these flowers aroused my curiosity, they were 
 massed together in such a curious fashion. I found 
 the gardener's idea of beauty was to pull off every 
 naturally grown leaf and then string it on to the stalk 
 and shove it up until a frill was formed round the 
 flower, stiff and forbidding, not a single leaf had been 
 allowed to escape and be natural. For further decora- 
 tion the chairs were arranged around the room at 
 regular intervals. On the walls were several of the 
 lamps with reflectors generally met with in kitchen 
 passages. When the heavy luggage arrived and my 
 
 83 
 
84 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 own pretty things were unpacked I soon made it more 
 homelike. The servants had done their best according 
 to their own hghts, and I tried to convey to them my 
 appreciation of their valued services. 
 
 Writing of flowers reminds me of my first dinner- 
 party in that bungalow. We had quite a nice garden 
 with heaps of flowers and fruit, the scent of the orange 
 blossom and tuberoses at night being so strong they 
 used at times to make my head ache. Our grapes were 
 rather fine and grew in profusion, but the hornets 
 would not allow me to go near them although the 
 natives in scanty garments walked about amongst 
 them without fear, and, as far as I know, unharmed. 
 A quantity of passion flowers grew in a blaze over 
 some trees and archways. I thought my dinner-table 
 would be pretty decorated with these, so before I went 
 for my evening ride I arranged them and they looked 
 charming. On my return just in time to dress for 
 dinner I peeped into the dining-room to see all was in 
 readiness, when I discovered all my flowers had shut 
 their eyes and gone to sleep, giving my table a very 
 forlorn aspect. There was no time to make any fresh 
 arrangement, so I treated it as a joke, and my guests 
 were amused when I explained the situation. 
 
 Being anxious to speak to the servants in their own 
 lingo I sent for a Munshi to teach me. His English 
 was about on a par with my Hindustani. Each day he 
 arrived with a lesson prepared for me, English words 
 on one side of a sheet of note-paper and Hindustani on 
 the other. The first list began : 
 
 Male hen ! — with the native '' Murgi." 
 Female hen ! — with the native '' Murga." 
 I was amused at his English, but my lessons did not 
 last long, as I found it quite impossible to tolerate my 
 instructor's manners. On entering the room, he, of 
 course, cast his shoes. This is the usual custom and 
 I am told desirable. But in other ways he was so 
 unconventional that after he had continued for a few 
 days I determined to make my husband teach me and 
 discarded my Munshi. 
 
STORIES FROM MAJUBA 85 
 
 While at Sitapur I made many delightful friends ; my 
 husband's brother officers and their wives were most 
 kind, and being a small station we were thrown a good 
 deal together. Sir George and Lady White, at that 
 time Major and Mrs. White, were amongst my greatest 
 friends. I had and still have a great affection for Lady 
 White, she was so bright and had such natural and 
 pleasing manners. I like to remember that all the 
 years I have known her never have I heard her say an 
 unkind word of anybody. It is a simple matter to say 
 nothing that could hurt people for those who sit still 
 and wait to be amused, seldom speaking, only thinking 
 like the sailor's parrot, without attempting to make 
 themselves agreeable. This was not a habit of Mrs. 
 White's, she was always full of conversation, kind and 
 charitable, a charming trait in anybody's character; 
 she was no respecter of persons, all and sundry were 
 asked to her home provided they were clever, bright 
 or amusing. Major White was rather a respecter of 
 persons. He certainly understood how to choose his 
 friends and acquaintances, preferring those who could 
 be helpful and in other ways desirable. One of his 
 pleasantest characteristics was his generosity and 
 appreciation of those who worked for him, ever 
 anxious to bring to light and notice any he considered 
 deserving of praise. Many have told me he was 
 pleasant to work with, courteous and lucid in his 
 orders, though at times inclined to become over- 
 anxious in consequence of his sympathy for all who 
 had hardships to bear while under his command. The 
 hospitality of both Major and Mrs. White was un- 
 bounded. They kept open house at all times. I have 
 always thought Lady White a perfect genius in her 
 management, for everything was well done, and they 
 have been in positions where there was, of necessity, 
 considerable entertaining. One word more I should 
 like to add, she has through her husband's appoint- 
 ments had the entertaining of many important people, 
 from Royalty downwards, and though everywhere 
 popular never has she become unduly spoilt, and her 
 
86 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 influence over her husband was good. I have heard 
 people say Sir George b'ecame spoilt ; perhaps he did, it 
 was only natural after being passed over the heads of 
 those senior to himself and given important appoint- 
 ments, followed later by the 6clat of his historic 
 defence of Ladysmith. Lord Roberts was a good friend 
 to him as he was to many another. He thought highly 
 of the 92nd Highlanders and was the making of more 
 than one of them, which they are quite ready to admit. 
 
 In the Sitapur days we used to have constant paper- 
 chases ; the Whites generally came out to enjoy the 
 sport, in fact most of the station did. Mrs. White 
 rode well and would mount anything, fear being a 
 stranger to her. Major White had a strong seat but 
 not very good hands, horses did not always go kindly 
 with him, though he had endless patience and pluck. 
 
 We were lucky at this time in having some nice 
 ponies, and most of them carried me well, though one 
 was distinctly awkward to mount. Days when he was 
 amiable I was able to manage it while his eyes were 
 blindfolded and one leg held up, days when he was 
 displeased about something I had to mount out of 
 the bathroom window while one of the pony's legs was 
 held up, and a man stood holding each side of his head, 
 Thinking possibly he had been frightened or ill- 
 treated at some time and that kindness and no fuss 
 might act as a charm, I asked my husband to have 
 him brought round without having his eyes blind- 
 folded. He said he had tried it before but Ifmight 
 try again if I liked. It was not a success; I heard 
 expostulations from his syce or groom and various 
 scufflings, presently the horse appeared on its hind 
 legs trying to throw the man down with its fore feet, 
 making ugly snatches at him, while the unhappy man 
 defended himself with a stick. When once the beast 
 was mounted as a rule he was as quiet as a cow, the thing 
 was to get there. He won for us a good many small 
 chases; he was not fast but a splendid fencer, never 
 made a mistake or became excited. 
 
 One day when I was driving my Httle tum-tum, a 
 
STORIES FROM MAJUBA 87 
 
 sort of low dog-cart (made mostly out of bamboo, very 
 light and not much of it), away from some local races 
 where my husband had been riding, I met Major White 
 on foot. I asked if I might give him a lift. He said he 
 would rather walk, it was good for him. After chatting 
 awhile he informed me I should not be able to get home 
 the way I was going as a deep dry ditch lay ahead of 
 me, and I had better turn and go by the road. I 
 assured him I had more than once driven home by 
 1 he route I was taking. He was very polite, but it was 
 plain he had grave doubts, so I asked him to get up 
 beside me and see how I did it. '* Flirt," the little 
 pony I was driving, rattled along until we came to the 
 ditch in question. It was wide at the bottom with 
 sloping sides, but not impossibly steep. I have always 
 maintained a good deal can be done in driving down 
 awkward places if one wheel only goes down first, a 
 sideways crab fashion. As we neared the incline I 
 slowed down to a walk. I observed Major White plant 
 his feet ready to be shot clear when the crash came. 
 We cautiously proceeded sideways down the slope, the 
 little mare kept her feet very cleverly. Nearing the 
 bottom of the ditch I let her go, still keeping her 
 obhquely, and up the other side we dashed. All was 
 well until we almost reached the level again, then she 
 began to scramble to keep her feet, the extra weight 
 in the cart was too much for her, so I said, '' Hop out 
 your side and I will hop out mine.'* This we accom- 
 plished successfully, the mare was on top and so were 
 we. I then offered to drive Major White home. He 
 declined unless I promised to stick to the road, and 
 laughingly said he thought my husband a very brave 
 man to drive with me but I should soon shatter his 
 nerves. 
 
 Major White was a keen sportsman, fond of racing, 
 paper-chasing, shooting, anything that came along. 
 He was also a great walker, and even in his last years 
 used to pride himself on being able to keep up with the 
 best of them out shooting. Only a few years before he 
 died he rode in the same race with his son at Gibraltar 
 
88 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 If I remember rightly on this occasion *' the old man 
 was beaten by the boy/' 
 
 From both Major White and his wife we received the 
 greatest kindness in India. Once when my English 
 nurse indulged in something stronger than tea my 
 husband took charge of her while I fled with my baby 
 to the Whites' bungalow and left him in their care 
 until the nurse had been despatched to England again. 
 
 The life of Sir George White, V.C., having been 
 written so lately his career will be fresh in the minds 
 of his friends and admirers. I remember when Sir 
 George was made Commander-in-Chief in India, Lady 
 White coming to tell me about it and her saying, '' I 
 think everybody is more excited about it than we 
 are," but they were, of course, very pleased, Sir 
 George especially, for it was a great step and a great 
 honour. 
 
 I saw him last at the Royal Hospital not long before 
 he died, and thought he was looking wonderful, but 
 Lady White said she could not disguise from herself 
 that he was failing, and I think he hurried the end by 
 overtaxing his strength with walking on the Riviera. 
 Lady White now resides mostly at Hampton Court 
 with her daughters. 
 
 Amongst other delightful people I met at Sitapur was 
 Mr. Ian Hamilton, another brother officer of my 
 husband's, in fact he was my husband's subaltern, for 
 my man had moved up a step and was now Captain. 
 Mr. Hamilton was a good-looking youth, but did not 
 give the impression of being strong, had a delicate fair 
 skin, sunny brown hair that insisted on curling, blue 
 eyes, and a lithe figure a little above medium height. 
 
 Here was another Highlander who became famous. 
 He is now our only poet-General ; it sounds an- 
 omalous, but truly his reports read like poems. He 
 cannot write without betraying his charm of mind and 
 speech. As a rule Generals' reports are dull and 
 occasionally misleading. Sir lan's are things apart, 
 combining cultured language and human feeling with 
 the military virtues of clearness and precision. I made 
 
HAMILTON 
 
STORIES FROM MAJUBA 89 
 
 this remark at a big dinner-party a short time ago, at 
 which were a number of wounded officers ; their faces 
 brightened at once, while in chorus they all agreed 
 with me. 
 
 I always thought his charm of manner had much to 
 do with his early success; he was another of Lord 
 Roberts' favourites, indeed he was rather a favourite 
 with everybody. My husband and I both liked him 
 much and we saw a good deal of him. He proved 
 himself a keen soldier and quickly climbed the ladder 
 of fame, like his brother officers Major White and Mr. 
 Douglas, the latter being adjutant at Sitapur during 
 the time of which I am speaking and to whom I shall 
 refer again later. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton's father had at one time commanded 
 the Gordon Highlanders, and it was his son's ambition 
 to be in the same regiment. 
 
 In 1878 came the Afghan war, during which the 
 regiment played a conspicuous part. Mr. Hamilton 
 was appointed aide-de-camp with Colonel Brabazon 
 of the loth Hussars to the Commander of the British 
 Cavalry Brigade. That unhappy man, what strife 
 there was about him and his methods in the Chardah 
 Valley ! Happily, as it so turned out, Mr. Hamilton 
 was laid up with a sharp attack of fever while the 
 debate was in progress as to who was to blame for 
 certain mistakes, and so was saved being mixed up 
 in it. 
 
 I have a good many letters relating to that time 
 and could tell some interesting and highly instructive 
 stories, but it would serve no good purpose. Let the 
 dead bury its dead and rest in peace. 
 
 It was during the Afghan war my husband was 
 wounded, the history of which I will write later. 
 The regiment was actually on its way home to England 
 after the Afghan war when I received a telegram 
 (I was in England) from my husband telling me to take 
 a house in the Isle of Wight as the regiment was going 
 to be stationed at Parkhurst. Quickly on top of this, 
 but not before I had taken a house, came another 
 
90 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 telegram saying, '* Ordered to South Africa/' The 
 regiment were, I think, rather pleased, feeling cock-a- 
 hoop and full of spirit after their Afghan experiences, 
 and thinking they would soon polish off the Boers, 
 making the same mistake of underrating the enemy's 
 power, as is the habit of the British. They had made 
 the same mistake before, have made the same mistake 
 since, and will probably make it again. 
 
 What followed is well known and the history of 
 Majuba Hill is well known, but I do not think that 
 everybody knows how hard Sir Ian Hamilton (at that 
 time a subaltern) tried to save the situation and 
 probably would have done so, if his warnings and 
 reports had been attended to instead of scorned. 
 
 It is an ungrateful world and we are all apt to forget 
 what has been done for us in the past, especially at a 
 time like the present when colossal tragedies tread on 
 the heels of one another and are the daily bill of fare 
 for our troops. But the part Mr. Hamilton played 
 on that fateful February 26, 1881, should never be 
 forgotten. I have a number of letters referring to it, 
 some lengthy ones from my husband, others from 
 friends who were there, and a very modest account 
 from Mr. Hamilton himself, written much later. There 
 may be some people who have forgotten the story, and 
 others who never knew it, so perhaps I may be forgiven 
 if I tell it briefly again. 
 
 General CoUey, who, by the way, was an habitual 
 optimist, picked out six hundred men to be with him 
 when he carried out the great deeds he contemplated. 
 Mr, Hamilton was one of the picked men. This little 
 band spent a greater part of the day struggling up the 
 hill laden with ammunition and other requisites. 
 Mr. Melton Prior told me it took them about ten 
 minutes coming down again ! But that is not part of 
 the story. Having reached the top of the flat-topped 
 hill called Majuba the troops dug a well to supply them 
 with water and proceeded to rest. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton with a few of his Highlanders was 
 posted on the side of the hill to report any movement of 
 
STORIES FROM MAJUBA 91 
 
 the Boers far away below the hill. The night was cold 
 and dark ; all passed quietly until early da\vn, when 
 Mr. Hamilton observed some activity amongst the 
 Boer camps, presently he saw a number of mounted 
 men riding towards the hill, this he at once reported. 
 He suddenly lost sight of the riders below him and 
 moved his own position so as to get a better view if 
 they tried to ascend the hill, and again reported what 
 he had seen, this time to the officer in charge, as General 
 Colley was asleep, tired after the fatigue of climbing 
 the hill the day before. The position now looked so 
 serious that he resolved once more to attract the 
 attention of his superior officers, wording his report, 
 '' Enemy advancing to attack.'' Still no orders 
 received. He was in despair, for the enemy were 
 plainly visible to the naked eye spreading out over the 
 hill and coming nearer every minute. Could every- 
 body be asleep ? He and his men made a hasty 
 shelter with stones, but before it was strong enough 
 to be any use the enemy were upon them. It was now 
 too late to wait for orders and he told his men to fire. 
 The poor Gordons, a mere handful, did their best but 
 were hopelessly outnumbered, and the pitiful little 
 ping pong of their rifles was returned with compound 
 interest. 
 
 Seeing the hopelessness of the situation Mr. Hamilton 
 resolved to send one more report. Where could all the 
 rest of the six hundred be, surely not all asleep ? As 
 no reply came to this last message he determined to go 
 and see what was the matter and why no answer came 
 to him with orders ; so dashed up the hill himself 
 under a heavy fire, the Boers being only about forty 
 yards away. Arriving in the hollow of the hill, having 
 received two bullets through his uniform in different 
 places, he found all sleeping, but said he must see the 
 General or Officer in Command at once. 
 
 The latter was just awake and quite unaware of any 
 fighting or anxiety, which was strange ; they must all 
 surely have been sleeping the sleep of the dead not to 
 have heard the rifles of the little defending party on 
 
92 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 the slope of the hill. Be that as it may, this lofty 
 official to whom Mr. Hamilton related his experiences 
 and the danger of his men, replied that the General 
 was asleep, must not be disturbed, and he did not 
 require panicky subalterns to instruct him in his 
 duties. There was therefore nothing to be done but 
 return to his men, facing without any cover once more 
 the rifles of the Boers. He had done his best for his 
 men and to warn the rest; he remained with his 
 picket until it became clear the hill was being sur- 
 rounded, so facing a hail of bullets and possible rebuff 
 again he started to warn the rest, this time being 
 told what a nuisance he was, alarming everybody, he 
 had only got the jumps and must really try and 
 control himself, everything was '' all right.'' Three 
 times did he personally warn the authorities of what 
 was coming and three times he sent his messengers, 
 making six separate reports. 
 
 On his return after his own third attempt to awaken 
 the rest to the danger of the situation, he found it no 
 longer possible for his little picket to withstand the 
 advancing and surrounding Boers. He therefore 
 ordered them back to the top of the hill, hoping they 
 might reach the protection of its high ridge before all 
 were killed, but it was too late, the Boers were amongst 
 them, and men's brains were being blown to pieces at 
 close quarters. Out of the seventeen man with Mr. 
 Hamilton defending the slope of that hill twelve were 
 shot dead before reaching the top ; the rest, Boers and 
 Highlanders all mixed up together, made for the top 
 of the hill still fighting, and dropped together into the 
 middle of the '' all right " staff and troops. The latter, 
 who were still in the cold grey dawn sleeping, jumped 
 up, some with coats and boots on, some without, a 
 mixed medley of Highlanders and Infantrymen all 
 firing indiscriminately. The Boers lay down and fired 
 furiously, more of them poured in from another side of 
 the hill ; seeing this for a moment our troops checked, 
 not knowing what was the best thing to do, and 
 nobody issuing any orders. 
 
STORIES FROM MAJUBA 93 
 
 Mr. Hamilton, still thinking there might be a chance 
 of an exit out of this chaos, rushed up to General 
 Colley (now awake) imploring him to let the Gordons 
 fix bayonets and charge. Again he was requested to 
 mind his own business ; there was now no longer any 
 chance, the men being bewildered and having no 
 orders, left their posts and fled in all directions ; the 
 Boers then stood up on the ridge of the hill and shot 
 all down in front of them. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton's feelings can be imagined better than 
 described, amidst this pandemonium that he tried 
 so hard to avert, and was not allowed to check. In 
 the midst of it all there came to him that curious 
 feeling, curious instinct that tells us when people are 
 looking at us, which compels our attention, and 
 turning his head observed a Boer aiming at him a 
 few yards away. Somehow he found a rifle in his 
 hand, though how he came by it he did not remember, 
 had probably picked it up instinctively in the melee. 
 Being an expert with a rifle he now prepared to use it, 
 but his foe got first chance, and firing smashed his left 
 wrist, and down he went. Struggling on to his feet 
 again he made a dash after the troops now fast dis- 
 appearing over the side of the hill, but the fire from the 
 Boers was maddening; before he reached the side of 
 the hill he was struck by a bullet in his knee, also a 
 piece of splintered rock cut the back of his head, while 
 another bullet cut a hole in his tunic. He fortunately 
 fell behind a rock, which sheltered him a little. Sud- 
 denly the firing ceased. Why ? Because the Boers 
 were in possession of the hill, no longer opposed. Where 
 was General Colley now ? And the haughty superior 
 staff ? All asleep again, but this time the sleep that 
 knows no waking. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton, dazed and suffering, lay still, weak 
 and exhausted, behind his little rock shelter. Pre- 
 sently two of the Boers, who were walking round 
 gloating over their morning's work, found him. The 
 youngest man of the two suggested shooting and 
 finishing him off, but the elder and presumably 
 
94 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 superior officer did not agree. He asked Mr. Hamilton, 
 '* Are you an officer, you infernal Englishman ? " 
 
 " Yes," was the reply. 
 
 " Then give up your sword." 
 
 Here indeed was the last straw, for it had been his 
 father's, and though feeling deadly sick and ill he 
 tried to save it by offering money instead. This was 
 no use, and they were in the act of taking it by force 
 when some more Boers came in sight, giving the 
 command *' Voorwarts," and the burghers moved on. 
 
 I have received many accounts of this miserable 
 day, my husband's letter being most graphic. He 
 believed it was Joubert himself who would not allow 
 the sword to be taken from the gallant soldier who had 
 fought against such heavy odds. It may have been 
 Joubert and it may not ; whoever it was Mr. Hamilton 
 with the graciousness of manner peculiar to himself 
 thanked the officer who had allowed him to keep his 
 valued sword, then remarked to him, ** This is a bad day 
 for us," receiving in reply, " What can you expect 
 from fighting on a Sunday ? " This was scarcely the 
 moment for repartee and argument, so Mr. Hamilton 
 did not say what must, I should think, have risen to 
 his lips, *' You began," as children say when quarrel- 
 ling, followed by '' Didn't, " '' Did," and ending in 
 blows. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton lay where he was until evening, when 
 the Boer Commander went up to him saying, '' You 
 will die, you can go," so the poor lad started his 
 agonising journey down the mountain. His move- 
 ments were naturally slow, and it was dark and 
 raining before reaching the bottom. Being afraid of 
 falUng into the Ingogo River he decided to lie down 
 where he was, which happened to be marshy ground, 
 and there his life was slowly ebbing away when a 
 rescue-party found him next morning, faint from loss 
 of blood and pain, besides being starving. 
 
 Once when speaking to him of this time, it being 
 always difficult to get him to talk of his own perform- 
 ances owing to his almost exceptional modesty, I 
 
STORIES FROM MAJUBA 95 
 
 succeeded in drawing from him the fact that he 
 remembers by way of nourishment on this occasion 
 having a pot of jam given to him in hopes of keeping 
 body and soul together, nothing else being obtainable 
 at the time. This he tells me ** I devoured right off 
 the reel." 
 
 In a letter I have from a friend who was left with the 
 camp at the foot of the hill, he says, *' When the Boers 
 began collecting their prisoners they would not 
 believe the wounded Tommy who told them it was 
 General Colley's body lying before them : ' All the 
 English lie,' they said/' So polite of them, but 
 perhaps they were right ! The letter continues, 
 ** While the prisoners were looking on in sulky misery 
 they came upon Mr. Hamilton, now a pathetic sight 
 covered in blood. They said to him, ' Oh, you will die, 
 so you can go.' He waited no further permission and 
 crawled away, but did not get far before falling down 
 in the marsh close to the Ingogo, and lay there com- 
 pletely exhausted. His wrist was a horrible sight, 
 some of the bones gone, others splintered and smashed, 
 while lying on the marsh for three days had stiffened 
 his injured knee. He was told he must have his hand off 
 and that after it was amputated he would soon pick 
 up again, but Hamilton considered half a hand and 
 wrist better than none and refused to allow the opera- 
 tion. I believe he would make a better recovery if he 
 did, but that he must naturally decide for himself." 
 
 Then the letter continued with some startling 
 statements which did not reflect glory, on the contrary 
 criminal neglect of duty, on the part of some who 
 paid for it with their lives. 
 
 It always seems to me that optimism is a most 
 reprehensible quality in soldiers, instead of hoping for 
 the best they should at all times prepare for the worst, 
 but optimism being temperamental perhaps they 
 cannot help it, in which case they should not be 
 generals and given the lives of those dear to us to 
 juggle with. None of we mothers of men resent it if 
 *' pur all '' is killed in fair fight, dying the death of all 
 
96 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 others they would have chosen, but when they have to 
 die Uke rats in a hole and are given no chance of even 
 defending themselves, it is hard, very hard, not to be 
 bitter. Optimism is doubtless a pleasant garb for the 
 wearer, but it is dangerous to the individual and cruel 
 to those surrounded with its atmosphere. Both these 
 gallant brave men, Colley and Penn Symons, died 
 victims of their own optimism, and I think it must 
 have been apparent to all who knew them that what 
 happened in each case might reasonably have been 
 expected. Their very virtue, shall we say, was their 
 undoing, and alas not only their own but the lives of 
 many lads just treading the threshold of life, eager to 
 taste all its joys and pleasures, done to death. To 
 have seen either of these brave men preparing for the 
 worst would have surprised me as much as it would if 
 I met Bernard Shaw in pink hunting in the Shires. 
 
 In the Mount Prospect Graveyard lies buried 
 General Colley 's body and his fame. The photograph 
 my husband sent me shows the graves of many of the 
 victims of Majuba Hill, both officers and men. In the 
 background is Majuba Hill, in the hollow at the top 
 General Colley and the greater part of his six hundred 
 died. 
 
 But to return to Mr. Hamilton, he was very ill from 
 shock, fever and loss of blood, which kept him for 
 months an invalid, and small wonder with the night- 
 mare of Majuba haunting him. It is easy to imagine 
 how in his fevered dreams he lived over again those 
 perilous journeys backwards and forwards in the vain 
 endeavour to attract attention to their danger. 
 
 Whether he was wise to keep his damaged hand he 
 alone must judge. It is not much use to him but he 
 can move it a little. Neither would it have been any 
 use supposing it had been amputated. When I 
 remember the delicate appearance of Mr. Hamilton as 
 I first knew him I marvel that he survived such an 
 ordeal. 
 
 W^hilst still an invalid he turned over in his mind 
 what he should do with the rest of his life, Should he 
 
I 
 
 m.JSL 
 
 I.ADV IA\ HAMII.rON 
 
STORIES FROM MAJUBA 97 
 
 leave the Service ? He decided to remain a soldier, 
 and I am sorry, for, though the army benefited by 
 retaining a keen soldier whose gold had been tried by 
 fire, the literary world sustained a loss. He was and 
 is a man of Uterary ability with leanings towards the 
 poets. And a mind above the average. 
 
 Of course, after our loss of prestige at Majuba there 
 were the usual recriminations, those who made the 
 mistakes trying to saddle the shoulders of the little 
 picket of Highlanders with the blame, saying they 
 broke and ran away, thereby causing the disaster, but 
 everybody saw plainly through that little fallacy, and 
 I began to feel more sympathy than usual with the 
 Bibhcal David who said, ** All men are Uars,'' but it is 
 difficult to be really sincere even with oneself. 
 
 Up to 1914 I think the present Sir Ian has had a 
 good deal of luck, assisted by the helping hand of 
 Lord Roberts, and he is, I should think, as great a 
 student of modem military history as any general 
 officer in the country — an accomplishment not too 
 common in our army of pre-1914 days. 
 
 No public character can escape without criticism, 
 just anTi unjust, but they soon learn to take no notice 
 of it. Possibly some of the pungent remarks relative 
 to Sir Ian Hamilton's conscription views may have 
 reached his ears, but if those were then his views who 
 can blame him for stating them ? I believe, by the 
 way, that he has the distinction of owning more medals, 
 as apart from decorations, than any other man in the 
 Service. He married in 1887 the eldest daughter of 
 Sir John Muir. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 TWO GREAT SOLDIERS 
 
 Baby Under a Sofa — A Coolness Between Myself and Husband — Our 
 Monkey's Favourite Drink — Snakes in Our Bedroom — General Sir 
 Charles Douglas in His Youth — He Takes Mrs. Somebody's Anti- 
 fat — As Chief of General Staff — Cannot get on with Lord Kitchener 
 — The Southern Command Manoeuvring — We Journey to the 
 Hills — I get Left in the Lurch — A Great Landslip — An Indian 
 Judge Eats Asparagus — Sir Monier- Williams' Favourite Buns. 
 
 MY husband was interested in his son, but from 
 a distance, being horribly afraid of him. I 
 wished to acchmatise my lord, so one day 
 asked him to hold the baby, while I went into my 
 bedroom to look for something. He said he feared he 
 should drop it, but I was firm, telling him all he had 
 to do was to hold on to its petticoats with one hand 
 and support its precious head with the other. I then 
 left him looking careworn. Returning in a few minutes 
 I could see neither husband nor baby, the room was 
 empty. I was moving in the direction of the nursery 
 when my attention was attracted towards a white 
 bundle, under the sofa, with a chair up against it 
 forming a sort of cage. I picked up my dear bundle, 
 for it was my baby, still sleeping composedly, and sat 
 down with him on my lap. 
 
 Presently I heard stealthy footsteps coming along the 
 verandah, a face peeped round the chick, a sort of 
 blind made of reeds to keep out the flies and crows, also 
 to prevent people seeing into the room, though the 
 natives managed to see through them fairly well. I 
 would not look up, and maintained a dignified silence, 
 so my husband had to begin, and in rather a nervous 
 voice asked, '* Is he all right ? " I pretended not to 
 hear, then he advanced and took my hand, saying 
 
 98 
 
TWO GREAT SOLDIERS 99 
 
 he wished to explain. I remarked I did not see that 
 there was anything to explain, but the tragic account 
 he gave of his anxiety and fear overcame my wrath 
 and dignity, I was obliged to laugh. *' But why," 
 I asked, **put him under the sofa ? why not on top ? " 
 " Because,'' replied my husband, '* I feared he might 
 roll off.'' There appeared to be some method in his 
 madness after all, so I forgave him '' just this once." 
 
 I shared my husband's love for animals, especially 
 horses and dogs, but his menagerie in India I found 
 trying at times. He had some strange pets. His 
 monkey, Peter, was intensely funny, but was jealous 
 of the baby, which kept me in a state of anxiety, 
 besides, he had some most reprehensible habits, one of 
 which was, his fondness for strong drink. He used to 
 sit on the arm of my husband's chair at meals and have 
 titbits given to him, a grape, or a nut, or sometimes 
 biscuits. When he had eaten all he wanted, he used 
 to get down and hide his dainties under a rug, behind 
 a picture, or anywhere that he considered safe. He 
 loved brandy and water, or whisky and soda. If he 
 heard a soda-water cork fly, he was on the scene sur- 
 prisingly quickly. 
 
 I tried to break him of his bad habits, and presented 
 him with some weak toast and water in his own 
 special glass. We watched without appearing to take 
 any notice. He wrinkled up his brow, looking old and 
 worried after the first sip, then tried another, gave a 
 shrill scream, chattered fast and furiously, then 
 emptied the contents on to the floor and proceeded 
 to help himself from my husband's tumbler. He was 
 a very human little body. If he thought we were not 
 paying him sufficient attention, he would make weird 
 and miserable faces, then sigh heavily, and cover his 
 face with his hands. He understood Hindustani, but 
 not English. When he had partaken of more food or 
 drink than was good for him he was very pathetic. 
 He generally tried to find my husband and chmb 
 on to the sofa, cover himself up with anything he could 
 lay his hands on, an antimacassar, the baby's shawl, 
 
100 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 even pull the tablecloth off one of the small tables, 
 then groan and jabber to himself of his remorse. At 
 last he became so mischievous that he had to be given 
 away, but not before he had emptied some bags of 
 shot into my husband's bed, had torn a hat of mine to 
 pieces, as well as having hidden most of the baby's 
 clothes. 
 
 It was at Sitapur that I first saw a krait enjoying 
 freedom, a small innocent-looking little snake, but 
 very poisonous. It was found drinking the baby's 
 milk. My husband's soldier-servant killed it, but the 
 natives discovered several baby snakes in a wall, near 
 where the krait was found, which they believed were 
 part of the same family. I thought they had better 
 be dispatched in the same way as their parent, as they 
 seemed to have a very good idea of taking care of 
 themselves, and struck at a stick held in front of them 
 in a venomous fashion. My husband protested and 
 said they were dear harmless little things and he wished 
 to keep them in a glass bottle in his dressing-room, 
 and watch them grow. I had misgivings about the 
 harmless nature of these little darlings, and asked 
 tenderly after their health daily, wondering if they were 
 still in the bottle, but not daring to go and look. 
 
 One day when the 92nd were having a tennis and 
 dance afternoon, I arrived rather late, and seeing my 
 husband and his friends making merry over some 
 joke, I walked up to them, asking if I might hear all 
 about it ; a sudden hush made itself felt, and my 
 husband melted away. What could it all be about ? 
 Mr. Douglas, adjutant of the regiment, bravely stood 
 his ground. I asked him to explain the joke to me. 
 He suggested my husband had better tell me, but at 
 last I learned that my lord and master had been seek- 
 ing advice as to the best method to adopt in breaking 
 the news to me of the escape of the little snakes 
 out of the bottle in his dressing-room. He feared 
 they might have strayed into my bedroom ! This 
 was not unlikely, the only boundary mark between 
 the dressing-room and mine being a curtain, or 
 
TWO GREAT SOLDIERS loi 
 
 purdah, as it is called out there. While looking some- 
 what amused, Mr. Douglas tried to comfort me with 
 assurances that the beasties were certain to have gone 
 out of doors and I need have no fear of my baby's 
 safety. I must confess I spent some time looking for 
 them, in my shoes, and other likely places, but never 
 saw them again. 
 
 The Mr. Douglas referred to above was none other 
 than the General Sir Charles Whittingham Horsley 
 Douglas, G.C.B., K.C.B., Chief of the General Staff, who 
 died on October 25th, 1914, the victim of perpetual 
 overwork. His death came as a great blow to the 
 army, and at a time when he could ill be spared. He 
 died a courageous soldier's death as assuredly as though 
 he were fighting at the front. For months he had been 
 struggling to remain in harness and do his work while 
 suffering acutely. How bravely he battled with ill- 
 health may be gathered from the fact that only a 
 week elapsed between the time he laid down his pen 
 for the last time and his death. Indeed, suffering is 
 written in capital letters across face and form in the 
 picture painted of him a few months before he died. 
 
 The Gordons have furnished the Army with many 
 brilhant officers, but none that I have known who 
 achieved success more entirely by his own merit and 
 hard work than Sir Charles Douglas. For thirty years 
 he advanced steadily from one post to another, rang- 
 ing from adjutant of his regiment to the coveted post 
 of Chief of the Imperial General Staff. This is the 
 more remarkable as he lacked some of the little 
 auxiliaries that balanced the scales in the right direc- 
 tion for others I could name. He was not rich, he had 
 little influence behind him, and was not a general 
 favourite, owing to his short brusque manner. 
 
 While Whistler prided himself on his skill in quarrel- 
 ling and proudly wrote his Gentle Art of Making 
 Enemies to immortalise his powers in that direction. 
 Sir Charles Douglas, throughout his long and useful 
 life, had to struggle against the most extraordinary 
 knack of rubbing people up the wrong way. This was 
 
102 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 as cruel a trick of fate as could well pursue a clever and 
 ambitious man. 
 
 Of his unpopularity he was well aware, and once 
 while he was adjutant of the Gordons in India asked 
 me the reason. A difficult question for me to answer 
 truly and yet pleasantly. I told him that while every- 
 body admired his devotion to duty, his pride in and 
 love for his regiment, also his discipline, he might, 
 I thought, gain all he desired without metaphorically 
 knocking people down in the first place, by his sharp 
 sarcastic speech and supercilious manner. He said 
 he liked straightforward people, hated beating about 
 the bush, adding, '* Besides, the Ethiopian cannot 
 change his skin,'' which, after all, was the very heart 
 of the matter, I suppose. 
 
 The world is full of these men ; facing life with a 
 defiant eye and bitter tongue, that withers every 
 advance of friendship, until at last they stand alone 
 watching the hurly-burly with apparent scorn, while 
 all the time they long to dance as merry a fandango 
 as the brightest. 
 
 Years afterwards, when I met him in London, Sir 
 Charles said in the course of conversation : " You 
 
 see I am still as unpopular as ever, Mrs. ," But 
 
 this time I was glad to be able to reply : '* What matter ? 
 you are at the top of the tree \ " He never courted 
 popularity, partly perhaps from a feeling of resent- 
 ment against the unappreciativeness he at times per- 
 ceived, and never in his life would he be party to any 
 sort of self-advertisement ; it was beneath him, for 
 he had a great dignity. He made the mistake, not 
 uncommon with many of us, of thinking that so long 
 as we do what we think right, that is all that is required 
 of us, not taking into consideration the effect our 
 righteousness may have on other people, for it is 
 quite possible we may be doing right with one hand 
 while doing harm with the other. 
 
 He was a professional soldier of the best stamp, 
 living up to a very exacting standard of his own, while 
 expecting everyone else to do the same ; a strict dis- 
 
GENERAL SIR CHARLES DOUGLAS 
 Frnin a painting 
 
TWO GREAT SOLDIERS 103 
 
 ciplinarian at all times, and very hard on inefficiency 
 in any form. The rigid code of morals and work he 
 set himself combined with another disturbing element, 
 not generally known, certainly accelerated his death. 
 I refer to his relations with Lord Kitchener. When 
 the International crash came in August, 1914, and 
 the Government called Lord Kitchener to the Secre- 
 taryship of State for War, the long-standing inability 
 of these two men to understand one another became 
 a source of acute anxiety to Sir Charles Douglas, who 
 felt that it might detract from his usefulness at this 
 critical time. 
 
 There was a clash of wills that were both powerful, 
 and perhaps imperious. When powerful wills meet 
 and fail to get into sympathetic touch, giving way 
 becomes very difficult, even over such small jnatters 
 as the phraseology contained in the official notes that 
 are continually passing between the head of a depart- 
 ment and his Chief of Staff. 
 
 It is a fact that Lord Kitchener simply ignored 
 Sir Charles, the Chief of his Staff ! and as hard a 
 worker as himself. It is opposites that combine to 
 produce the most pleasing colours ; the harsh and 
 brusque cannot tolerate another of the same calibre. 
 He requires a gentle persuasive individual to bring 
 out the best that is in him. 
 
 All the work undertaken by Sir Charles throughout 
 his life was well carried out. As Adjutant to his 
 regiment he has seldom been equalled, and I think no 
 one will deny that the regiment owed much of its 
 character for smartness and efficiency to him. He was 
 still acting as Adjutant during the Afghan War, where 
 he took part in the famous Kabul to Kandahar march, 
 and met with the unpleasant experience of having 
 his horse shot under him. At one time he was Adjutant 
 to the London Scottish Volunteers, a post which has 
 always been held by Gordon Highlanders. This was 
 work after his own heart, for he loved regimental detail. 
 
 During times of peace he performed excellent work 
 as a staS-officer in the Aldershot Command under the 
 
104 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Duke of Connaught, commanding a brigade and then 
 a division. He was the first Adjutant-General when 
 the Army Council was created, and held the Southern 
 Command after Sir Ian Hamilton. He became 
 Inspector-General of the Home Forces, until he was 
 selected to fill Sir John French's place after the little 
 disagreeableness at the Curragh. 
 
 As Adjutant-General, he had a difficult and vexatious 
 task, meeting with more opposition in his endeavours 
 for the good of the army than will probably ever be 
 known, but he resolutely stuck to his guns and carried 
 through more measures and improvements than it 
 would be well to enumerate ; from these the army are 
 reaping benefit to-day. The interests of the service 
 were safe in his hands, not even the most seductive 
 politician could move him from what he considered 
 best. 
 
 I have been told his staff-tours were generally con- 
 sidered by those who understand these things, as 
 models of what staff-tours should be, and that his 
 judgment of operations and his criticisms upon them 
 were in every way admirable. Indeed, it was not 
 until he was appointed to the Southern Command 
 that he was properly appreciated. 
 
 That Southern Command has smothered me in dust 
 and delayed me on the road, not once but many times, 
 both during Sir Ian Hamilton's reign and Sir Charles 
 Douglas's. From my home in Somersetshire I fre- 
 quently motored up to town, and the road by which 
 we travelled lay through the midst of the S.C. terri- 
 tory. How they churned up the roads with their 
 heavy lorries, beer-vans, and all the rest of their 
 commissariat arrangements. During their manoeuvres 
 my heart ached for them all. They were in such deadly 
 earnest, the road was strewn with galloping majors, 
 and staff-officers, generals, colonels, all riding furiously, 
 hot and careworn. I was given to understand by one 
 of them I met, that their reputations depended on 
 who got round the comer first, or something of that 
 sort. Horses stood at the side of the road with dis- 
 
TWO GREAT SOLDIERS 105 
 
 tended nostrils and quivering tails, ridden to within 
 an inch of their lives, indeed a good many did die. 
 That road was full of surprises. Suddenly a man 
 would lop his horse over a fence close to you and ask 
 in a husky whisper if we had seen another man on a 
 white horse, and we were not sure if we were betraying 
 anybody, by saying **Yes.'' Once or twice we had 
 the refreshment of seeing some of the men standing 
 by their horses, eating bananas off a barrow at the side 
 of the road, but even then they wore a worried air. 
 
 Although I followed the drum for so many years 
 while my husband was in the Gordon Highlanders, I 
 am profoundly ignorant of military matters, as it 
 was considered most undesirable, in those days, for 
 the ladies to be military. He did not even like what 
 he called " shop '' to be talked before me. Woe betide 
 the young wife who referred to ** our regiment '' in- 
 stead of ** my husband's regiment.'' She was meta- 
 phorically flung to the lions. What the conventions 
 may be now that the army has grown by millions 
 I do not know. Nevertheless I managed to see the 
 amusing side now and then all the same. 
 
 When the regiment went to Afghanistan I came 
 home. On their return to England I remember 
 Captain Douglas, as he then was, coming to call on me 
 in town ; I thought he was looking very ill. When I left 
 India he was a well-covered young man, rather wofried 
 about the weight he was putting on, but now he was 
 thin and bedraggled-looking. I asked him what was 
 the matter, and he told me he had been taking quanti- 
 ties of a mysterious remedy called Mrs. Somebody's Anti- 
 fat Mixture. It had reduced his weight without any 
 manner of doubt, but he accused it also of reducing his 
 hair. A good many of his curly locks had disappeared 
 with the weight, at which he was much distressed, 
 and so was I, for he looked years older, and very ill. 
 I noticed also the cuffs of his shirt were frayed at the 
 edges. I asked him if that was also due to Mrs. Some- 
 body's Anti-fat Mixture, which was unkind of me, but 
 he laughed and said ''No." That was the work of 
 
io6 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 the Indian duobie (washerman). He had only just 
 landed and had come to pay his respects to me before 
 even going to buy a fresh trousseau, which is the 
 necessity of every man and woman returning from 
 India, where washermen and climate combined spoil 
 most things. It is a curious fact that even if you 
 only go out to India for a year, when you return you 
 look prehistoric, until rigged out in entirely new kit. 
 It did not take Captain Douglas long to fit himself 
 up. He was at all times smart, provided circumstances 
 would allow it. 
 
 In 1885 he married Miss Ida de Courcy Gordon, 
 daughter of the late George Tomlin Gordon, j.p., d.l., 
 of Cuckney, Notts, a particularly pretty and sweet 
 woman, whom he adored. It was one of the happy 
 marriages so seldom met with, for she also adored 
 him, thought of and lived for nothing else. That 
 rare and undefinable something we call charm was 
 especially hers. No one could be with her without 
 feeling it, and in consequence she had many friends. 
 
 It came as a great shock to me when, a very short 
 time ago, I heard she was dead. I had received a 
 letter from her only a few days before. She underwent 
 an operation on November 12th, a Sunday morning, 
 and died the same afternoon. Happily her sister, 
 Lady Alexander Kennedy, of whom she was fond, was 
 with her at the time. Thus she only survived the 
 husband she so mourned two years. They had no 
 children. Sir Charles was knighted while Adjutant- 
 General on the new Army Council. 
 
 I have a very warm corner in my heart for the 
 Highlanders. I love to see them swing along when 
 marching, with pipes skirling and kilts swinging. It 
 is very wonderful that I do love them, for when I first 
 went out to India our bungalow was close to where 
 the bands and pipers practised, and I shall never for- 
 get the first time I dined at the Mess when they had 
 a ladies' dinner, and the pipers walked round the 
 room behind our chairs at intervals while we ate. I 
 drank nothing stronger than iced soda water, but the 
 
LADY DOrOLAS 
 
TWO GREAT SOLDIERS 107 
 
 pipes made me feel much as people must do when 
 they have had something stronger. My head began 
 to go round, and when I saw all the men drinking 
 quaigh, or guaick (raw whisky), I wondered what 
 they would all feel hke. Happily for me, my head 
 recovered between the bursts of music. What fine 
 fellows those pipers were — what side, what swagger ; 
 it was magnificent. I remember the next day, in our 
 bungalow, trying to walk the way they did, and my 
 husband asking me what on earth I was doing. He 
 was amused when I said I was seeing if I could swish 
 my skirts as the pipers did their kilts. 
 
 The funny man of the regiment at that time was 
 Major the Hon. John Scott-Napier. Many amusing 
 stories were told of him ; probably half of them were 
 not true, but from what I know of him, I think some 
 were. He is living now, so I must be careful what I 
 say or he will be cross with me. He talks through 
 his nose. I believe it was once broken in boxing or 
 some such game, but that may have been somebody 
 else's nose ; anyway he talks through his. He is a great 
 fine-looking man with the kindest of hearts, and my 
 husband tells me once at a ball in India he was dancing 
 with some rather shy girl, and trying to make her feel 
 at ease. While standing resting at the side of the room, 
 by way of making polite conversation to her he said 
 (through his nose), '' Do you like handsome men ? '' 
 
 His partner, looking up shyly, said, '* Yes.'' 
 
 '* Then just run round the other side of me, will 
 you ? You're standing on the broken nose side," said 
 Major Napier. 
 
 Again a Httle later the shy maiden said she admired 
 the Highland uniform so much. 
 
 ** Yes," replied her partner, '' kilts are nice and cool, 
 but one wants mosquito nets badly." 
 
 Before the end of my first hot weather in India my 
 husband got leave and we went to Naini Tal, the nearest 
 hill station to Sitapur. The lake there was a great 
 source of joy to my husband ; he loved going out and 
 paddhng about in a canoe. It is a pretty little spot, 
 
io8 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 but I never felt well or happy there and longed to get 
 back to the plains. 
 
 In those days the railway only ran as far as Rane- 
 bagh (I think that was the name, but it is a long time 
 ago). After that, I remember we had a long journey 
 in dak gharis, until we arrived at the foot of the 
 Himalayas, then after staying a night in the rest- 
 house we continued our journey up to Naini Tal. My 
 husband rode up on a hired pony, baby and I went in 
 a jampan, an uncomfortable little seat slung on 
 bamboo poles resting on the shoulders of coolies, this 
 mode of procedure or riding being the only way of 
 reaching our destination. The paths were very narrow 
 and in some places so steep that it was necessary to 
 hold on to the mane of the pony being ridden, to pre- 
 vent slipping over its tail. The animals are used to 
 the roads and do not seem perturbed either when 
 sliding and scuffling down young precipices, or when 
 scrambUng up them. We started away early in the 
 morning about eight o'clock, arriving at the Victoria 
 Hotel at four in the afternoon. Not having had any 
 experience of travelling in India beyond the journey 
 up from Bombay in the train, I was unaware of the 
 amount of preparation necessary if comfort was aimed 
 at ; my husband not having had a wife and family 
 before, did not realise they could not live on whisky. 
 It never occurred to me there would be no more 
 food to be had until we finished our journey, so I took 
 only some milk in the baby's bottle and went gaily 
 away. My husband rode with me for some time, and 
 growing weary of the slowness of our mode of progress 
 said he would ride on to see that everything was in 
 readiness. I did not quite like being left all alone with 
 the baby and only the native carriers, but said nothing, 
 realising how boring it must be jogging along beside 
 us, so I was left to air my few words of Hindustani, 
 which the carriers did not understand. 
 
 All went well for a time, when it began to pour with 
 rain, not refined Enghsh sort of rain, but bucketfuls 
 I had no umbrella, no cloak, no mackintosh, only the 
 
TWO GREAT SOLDIERS 109 
 
 baby's wraps and a silk carriage apron over my knees. 
 The native carriers promptly put down the jampan 
 and left me, disappearing under cover somewhere or 
 returning to their homes. They knew I was helpless 
 and my man gone on ahead, the servants had also 
 gone on much earlier in the morning. My thin dress 
 stuck to me like a bathing-gown, the water sloshed 
 up and dowTi in my shoes, the baby cried itself to sleep, 
 and the milk in its bottle went sour. There was nothing 
 to do but sit still, shiver and bear it, until such time 
 as some one should come along. A few natives passed 
 who took no notice of me and to whom I could not 
 speak. They were carrying loads of provisions up 
 the hill. At last a half-and-half sort of man came along, 
 neither white nor black. I spoke to him and told him 
 what had happened. He said if he met my husband 
 he would send him back, and he would probably meet 
 him. 
 
 If it had been fine I suppose more people would 
 have passed who might have helped me, but nobody 
 would be out in rain of that kind for fun. The baby 
 awoke and cried with cold and hunger. I had nothing 
 to give him, and nothing dry to wrap round him ; I was 
 in despair. At last, after sitting some hours in this 
 misery my husband came back to look for us, as we 
 did not turn up in proper time. He rode back to where 
 we had started from in the morning to fetch fresh 
 carriers. This was another lonely wait, and I feared 
 it might be dark before we had traversed those danger- 
 ous-looking paths. At last my good man returned 
 with the fresh men but had been unable to get any- 
 thing to wrap my baby in, but brought some buffalo 
 milk in a bottle smelling strongly of beer. We then con- 
 tinued our way, arriving at last, worn out, shivering 
 and miserable, I feeling sure the baby would die. 
 As it happened he suffered less than I did. 
 
 The whole time we were at Naini Tal, we stayed at 
 the Victoria Hotel, which was one of the buildings 
 swept away in the big landslip on September the i8th, 
 1880. It stood high up on the hill overlooking the 
 
no MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 lake where many happy hours had been spent by those 
 who love the water, over the assembly-rooms where 
 dances and concerts were held, where the papers could 
 be read in the library, over the race-course where I 
 have seen our ponies win many races. 
 
 Rain had been falling heavily for two days, pouring 
 steadily in an uninterrupted flow. The day before 
 the catastrophe showed that the fall had aggregated 
 twenty-five inches in the forty hours of its continuance. 
 The effect of this enormous weight of water pouring 
 down the hill-sides into the little basin formed by the 
 surrounding hills, with the lake at their feet, was 
 causing anxiety, as the roads were cut up and the 
 paths down the hill-sides from the bungalows were 
 turned into deep water-courses, filled with discoloured 
 water carrying everything before it. The lake changed 
 from its placid blue-green to a foaming angry mass, 
 which threatened to overrun the only road that could 
 be called by that dignified appellation, and which ran 
 almost level with the lake. The race-course and polo- 
 ground vied with the lake for supremacy. The amount 
 of loose earth and stones lying about should surely have 
 warned people of a quite possible danger from land- 
 sHps. It was well known in 1877-8, when I was 
 there, that the hill on which Government House stood 
 on the same side of the lake as the hotel was unsafe. 
 I well remember, while in the hotel, there was a scare 
 because there had been a small landslip behind the 
 hotel stables where our ponies stood. 
 
 Early on Saturday morning, the i8th, the rain still 
 fell, a heavy cloud hung around the hill-tops, turning 
 day almost into night. The wind sighed in the dripping 
 branches of the trees, the water rushed and roared 
 uncannily, a few people collected, shaking their heads, 
 and prophesying some disaster, while others told them 
 not to be so gloomy and pessimistic. The Victoria 
 Hotel still perched picturesquely amongst the trees 
 on the hillside. The large and chief emporium known 
 as '* Beirs shop " standing on the north side of it, 
 where anything from boot-laces, apples, lamp oil. 
 
TWO GREAT SOLDIERS iii 
 
 calico to stationery or castor oil might be purchased, 
 was tenanted by all the assistants and those brave 
 people who defied the elements in search of household 
 requisites. About lo a.m. there had been a small 
 landslip close to the servants' quarters, followed 
 shortly by the whole line of outhouses and part of the 
 back of the hotel collapsing. The alarm was given, 
 and the inmates of the hotel hurried out of it to other 
 quarters. The main building remained intact. Think- 
 ing it would now be all right, the authorities worked 
 hard to remove all the debris, and to rescue if possible 
 the unfortunate people who had been buried. It was 
 discovered by making a roll-call that about thirty 
 natives connected with the hotel and one European 
 child were missing. 
 
 The Assistant Commissioner, in charge of Naini Tal, 
 arrived with the local police almost immediately. 
 Finding the task required more hands, assistance was 
 requisitioned from the military depot; four ofiicers 
 and fifteen men soon joined the working party, making 
 in all sixty or seventy hands. 
 
 By degrees others turned up, offering to help. 
 Except that the hotel was empty, life proceeded in the 
 usual way. People went to the assembly-room to 
 read the papers ; BelFs shop was filled with people 
 comparing notes as to who had been killed at the back 
 of the hotel. By one o'clock the dead were being 
 carried away, while the rain poured on unceasingly. 
 Suddenly about 1.30 the inhabitants of this little 
 station were alarmed by a sudden crashing roar, as of 
 mighty guns and angry elements combined in combat, 
 followed by a rumbling noise as of thunder passing 
 away in the distance. Then an awful silence, while 
 vast clouds of dust and dirt flung a mantle over the 
 lake, assembly-rooms, and northern end of Naini Tal. 
 The whole place rocked and shook, the waters of the 
 lake rose in one huge wave and swept towards the 
 weir. What was this awfulness that had happened ? 
 Was it God's Great Judgment Day ? All was again 
 silence, no voice was heard, no cry for help, no cry of 
 
112 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 pain, only an overwhelming silence, an unbearable 
 silence. 
 
 Oh ! where was everybody ? What had happened ? 
 Where was the Victoria Hotel, the assembly-rooms. 
 Bell's shop, the band of workers who were searching 
 for the dead ? All were gone, and in their place, vast 
 mounds of loose earth, uprooted trees, fallen masonry, 
 broken beams, and a litter of hats, rugs, boots, rifles, 
 yards of silk and cloth, bayonets, looking-glasses, all 
 mixed up together in mad confusion. What was that 
 protruding from the earth ? Surely human hands ! 
 Anything more awful to contemplate it would be diffi- 
 cult to imagine outside Dante's Inferno. 
 
 It was so sudden, so overwhelmingly complete. For 
 the moment it was recognised as hopeless to try and 
 find those who, in the early morning, had sought to 
 rescue the buried, for now all lay fathoms deep. 
 
 Working parties were quickly formed, but .it was 
 considered by the engineers and doctors that there 
 was not the remotest chance of any of the entombed 
 being still aUve. Nevertheless all worked hard, as 
 long as light remained. 
 
 On a battlefield all know the risks they are facing, 
 and in a measure go of their own free will, while here, 
 in the midst of the fun and frolic, bred of the holiday 
 feeling that pervades the hills in India, where those 
 who have been enduring the heat and lassitude of the 
 plains once more breathe health-giving air and mean 
 to spend their little savings in enjoyment, suddenly, 
 without warning are gathered home. 
 
 In the lists of the missing and dead were well-known 
 figures in Naini Tal society. 
 
 The old Government House was swept away and 
 the Naini Tal we had all known was no more. 
 
 Many people think it was one of the prettiest of the 
 hill stations, perhaps so ; but I was very glad to go 
 back to the plains again as soon as I possibly could. 
 
 I must now return to Sitapur. When the Afghan 
 War broke out I and the baby went home. On board 
 the P. and O. was Lady Cavagnari, wife of Sir Pierre 
 
TWO GREAT SOLDIERS 113 
 
 Louis Napoleon Cavagnari, who was at that time sent 
 as British resident to Kabul, where he was so shortly 
 to be murdered by mutinous Afghans. His wife was 
 young and bonny, and when I read of her husband's 
 terrible death, I grieved for her lifelong sorrow. 
 
 There was also a judge from Bombay, who sat next 
 to me at the dinner-table. His conversation was in- 
 teresting. Amongst other things he told me he had 
 spent most of his life in India, which is what I should 
 have imagined from his manners. 
 
 In the Red Sea, when it was very hot, we had iced 
 asparagus occasionally for luncheon ; the old judge 
 put the stems into his mouth bodily, green end — white 
 end — everything. What he could not swallow he 
 threw under the table close to my feet ! 
 
 Opposite to me sat Sir Monier- Williams, professor 
 of Sanscrit at Oxford — and his handsome wife whose 
 manners were as charming as her husband's were 
 rough. She was most patient with his selfishness, and 
 looked uncomfortable when he grabbed more than his 
 share of dainties. 
 
 Sometimes we had delicious little buns for luncheon 
 fresh from the oven. These especially pleased Sir 
 Monier, and quite regardless of whether there would 
 be enough to go round he would take a handful and 
 place them on the table round his plate, when there 
 was not room enough on it. 
 
 One day there were not enough to go round 
 and the head steward came behind Sir Monier's chair, 
 dug a fork into one of his spare buns and walked 
 off with it. Sir Monier was furious, the steward pre- 
 tended not to hear and carried the bun to the man 
 waiting for it, then came back full of apologies, saying 
 he had no idea the buns belonged to Sir Monier ; he 
 thought they were some spare ones on the table by 
 mistake ! 
 
 Sir Monier had a mouthful of shark-like teeth that did 
 the most extraordinary things on their own account ; 
 when excited he champed them up and down; after 
 one of his buns was taken away he champed furiously. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE AFGHAN WAR 
 
 Letters from Afghanistan — Two Brilliant Engagements — On the Way 
 to Kabul — March of 236 miles in 15 Days — An Afghan's Grave — 
 Battle of Kandahar — My Husband's Company Leads the Attack — 
 Wounded — Attacked Again — Saved by a Drummer Boy — Letters 
 from Sir Frederick Roberts — The Maiwand Disaster — Colonel 
 West Ridgeway Sends a Telegram — The Night Before Majuba — 
 Fighting with One Boot — The Empress of Austria — Hunting with 
 the Pytchley — Captain Bay Middleton, Her Pilot — Prince Kinsky 
 in Her Suite — Racing at Hopping Hill — Hunting in Ireland — The 
 Empress's Sympathy — Death of Prince Rudolph — Assassination of 
 the Empress Elisabeth — Curses that have Borne Effect. 
 
 MY husband's letters during the Afghan War 
 were full of interest. I have a few of them 
 before me as I write, also many from friends 
 taking part in that campaign, some of whom are 
 living to-day, but many alas are dead. 
 
 The first letters I received from my partner, after 
 the regiment's departure for the front, were full of 
 the fuss and excitement attending the movement of 
 troops on active service : telling how ardent young 
 subalterns anxious to begin campaigning, insisted on 
 washing and eating out of the same basin long before 
 there was any necessity for such drastic measures : 
 how some officers and men put up with the necessary 
 and inevitable discomforts with a good grace, whilst 
 others did not. In another letter later I am told of 
 jealous squabbles which arose amongst the politicals, 
 of some remarkably petty reprisals, mistakes made by 
 commanding officers and generals, of long marches 
 and bitter cold. 
 
 The Gordon Highlanders played a conspicuous part 
 in that campaign and were amongst those with Lord 
 (then Sir Frederick) Roberts ox\ tii§ rneynqrable march 
 
 114 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 115 
 
 from Kabul to Kandahar. The story of this campaign 
 has been so often told by men of knowledge and experi- 
 ence in military strategy and tactics that it would be 
 futile for me to wrestle with it, besides which I am 
 not trying to write history, but merely reminiscences 
 of some of the history-makers it has been my pleasure 
 to know. I therefore pass on with the all-embracing 
 remark that my husband took part in every action 
 that was fought on the road to and from Kabul, up 
 to the time he was wounded on September ist at the 
 battle of Kandahar. 
 
 I gather from his letters that the storming of the 
 Peiwar Kotal and the fighting before Sherpur were 
 the most critical of the engagements in which he 
 " did his bit " on the way to Kabul : of his own doings 
 he says little, but is full of appreciation and praise 
 for other people, especially his brother officers, giving 
 occasional graphic descriptions of what really took 
 place, which is not altogether in accordance with the 
 published accounts. 
 
 He expresses the opinion in one letter that the 
 Peiwar Kotal was one of Sir Frederick Roberts' most 
 brilliant engagements. I give the following extracts 
 from his letters that I think are interesting. 
 
 They raise no ghosts of the past that are better forgot- 
 ten, but give vivid little glimpses of life in that splendid 
 march from Kabul to Kandahar which still ranks as 
 one of the achievements of the British Army. In one 
 letter dated August loth, 1880, he says : *' I wish I 
 could find time to write a diary of this march, for it is 
 of an unusual nature, and if successful, will probably 
 appear in history for the benefit of the rising genera- 
 tion. The wisdom of the venture, for venture it is, 
 has been much discussed. Whether it is wise or unwise, 
 or the only thing to be done, happily does not rest with 
 me, I have to do as I am told, and here I am, one of 
 the 10,000 men in good health and spirits looking 
 forward to reaching Kandahar in the prescribed time. 
 
 '* What is unusual about this forced march is the fact 
 that after to-day we shall be completely cut off from 
 
ii6 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 any supports or help, we shall have no base, but be 
 entirely self-supporting. We are in the happy un- 
 consciousness of not knowing, from day to day, what 
 is before us ; we are making for a town supposed to 
 be held by our troops, but after the unfortunate affair 
 at Khush-ki-Nakhud (Maiwand), which will have 
 encouraged the enemy around Kandahar, it is un- 
 certain what we may find ; therein lies the interest. 
 
 " Not only shall we after to-day be cut off from 
 Kabul but consequently India also. Probably letters 
 will be delayed, and Heaven only knows when I may 
 hear from you again. . . . 
 
 '' After leaving Ghuzni, H tells me, will be 
 
 the most critical time for us, as we shall then have to 
 find food and forage wherever we may halt." 
 
 A Uttle later I read, *' Our marches are very 
 fatiguing, not from the distance we cover, that being 
 only from sixteen to eighteen miles a day, but from the 
 long halts and waiting in the sun, while the baggage 
 comes up, it being most important we should all keep 
 together. The sun is very powerful, more so than 1 
 expected, and although we are mostly pretty fit and 
 hard, when we reached camp last night, both High- 
 landers and 23rd Pioneers were so exhausted they 
 threw themselves down as they were supperless and 
 slept. We had only marched sixteen miles, which was, 
 of course, nothing to most of us, but we were fourteen 
 hours under arms. 
 
 '* At the present moment we are camping close to 
 the spot where we were last October when on our way 
 to Kabul. 
 
 ** We have, I think, an exceptionally strong staff of 
 transport officers. Colonel Lowe is their chief. Natur- 
 ally our transport arrangements are of the utmost 
 importance. As a chain is only as strong as its 
 weakest link, so we are only as strong as our weakest 
 man or mule ; the strong have to wait for the weak, 
 this is what makes our march so trying. 
 
 '* Sir Frederick Roberts has issued stringent orders 
 as to the care of baggage animals, pointing out the 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 117 
 
 success of the march depends greatly on them ; he 
 does not mean again to try working the poor beast 
 without food and care, leaving our line strewn with 
 the dead and dying. We have no camels with us now, 
 they are useless for forced marches. I hope the C.O.'s 
 will play up and help the transport officers, by seeing 
 to the loading of the animals, for as you know it is not 
 purely a matter of feeding that keeps ponies and 
 mules up to the mark, it is proper adjustments of loads, 
 avoiding sore backs,'' etc. 
 
 Later, ** In Camp Kelat-i-Ghilzai, August 23rd, 
 1880. To-day we have passed through some country 
 where opposition was expected. We met none. This 
 helps the rapidity of our march. 
 
 ** Counting our starting-point as the Bala Hissar 
 we have now covered 236 miles in 15 days, averaging 
 some 15 miles and a bit per day. Nothing wonderful, 
 you may say, neither is it, for a regiment alone, but 
 remember in addition to 18,000 souls, counting camp 
 followers, we have at least 9000 baggage animals 
 of sorts and kinds, carrying heavy loads over rough 
 and often cruel ground. Take also into consideration, 
 that we have not yet had one day's halt, to which I 
 may add, last but not least, the troops are in splendid 
 health (speaking generally) and the transport animals 
 with very little amiss, you will then consider, as I do, 
 that it has been a wonderful feat towards the accom- 
 plishment of which all have done their best. 
 
 '' We passed an interesting Afghan grave a march 
 or two back. I shall try and get a photograph of it 
 for you, by and by. At Ghuzni we passed the tomb of 
 Mahmood, the at one time King of Ghuzni, which used to 
 be a powerful city. Its glory has now departed as well 
 as its valiant king, who invaded India no less than 
 eleven times. His tomb lies in a picturesque and 
 peaceful spot and is well preserved. Wonderful to 
 relate the tiger skin that Vigne declared was the 
 largest he had ever seen, still hangs outside the gates 
 and walls, that surround the tomb. The walls and 
 general surroundings are in a tumble-down state, 
 
ii8 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 which is a pity, only the tomb itself is in good preserva- 
 tion. Here and there are illuminated inscriptions and 
 some uncommon carving, the Kufie inscriptions being 
 perhaps in the best state of preservation. 
 
 ''The Gates of Somnath, which Nott carried away to 
 India some forty or fifty years ago, have been replaced 
 by carved doors of sandalwood, or something like it. 
 The horseshoes nailed about the walls are in such 
 profusion that if they are anything like as lucky as 
 you would have me believe the old gentleman must 
 indeed be in luck's way wherever he may be ! 
 
 ** The old days of last December when we were 
 fighting against such great odds at Sherpur were 
 vividly recalled a few nights ago by reading in the 
 Field Force Orders a little notice to the effect that 
 ' Lieut. -General Sir Fred. Roberts feels sure the 
 whole Kabul Field Force will share with him, his 
 sorrow and regret on learning the sad news of the 
 death of Lieut. -Colonel Cleland, 9th Lancers, the 
 result of the dangerous wounds he received on the 
 nth of December last while gallantly leading his 
 distinguished regiment against the enemy. After 
 many months of suffering Colonel Cleland has died at 
 Murree.' The *In Memoriam ' continued with expres- 
 sions of sympathy with the officers and men of the 9th 
 Lancers, who by his death have been deprived of a 
 gallant and promising officer.'' 
 
 My husband adds : *' Cleland was very popular, and 
 I think everyone will be sorry." 
 
 '* None of us are looking very handsome just now, 
 our faces and hands are burnt brown, both being 
 ornamented by many blisters. Some of us are begin- 
 ing to feel our short allowance of sleep, also the 
 extremes of temperature. In the early morning when 
 we start our march the thermometer often registers 
 45° in the open air, while at four or five o'clock in the 
 evening it stands at 100° in a double-flap tent. 
 
 '* The last few marches we have been up at i a.m. 
 and marching by 2.30 so as to get the rearguard in 
 before dark, and give the troops time to prepare their 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 119 
 
 food before turning in about 7.30. It has been 
 my fate several times to be sent back a few miles at 
 the end of my day's march, to help in bringing in 
 stragglers. Some of our followers are wanting in grit 
 and will if they get a chance wander off into some 
 quiet corner and go to sleep quite regardless of the 
 consequences, which may easily mean, being left 
 behind and made into mincemeat by the Afghans. 
 Occasionally some do contrive to get left behind, and 
 if by chance they live to overtake us tell all sorts of 
 weird tales of their experiences. 
 
 *' While here we are going to add three hundred or so 
 camels to our transport, as well as a number of donkeys, 
 the latter are useful for carrying the men who are 
 unable to walk. 
 
 " General Hugh Gough's Cavalry Brigade have done 
 fine work throughout our march, always scouting 
 ahead, leaving us to march in peace without fear of 
 sudden attack. 
 
 ** I am one of the few who have not suffered from 
 blistered feet, thanks to your silk socks, which I soap 
 well and wear inside my other regimental ones. I am 
 afraid some of the last you knitted for me have gone 
 astray, you might register the next. Bought silk socks 
 are useless.'' 
 
 The next letter, that may possibly hold some 
 interest for others as well as myself, is dated *' Sept. 
 3rd, 1880. Kandahar." 
 
 " Our march is now a thing of the past, but a 
 splendid performance for so large a force, carrying 
 with it all the sick and supplies. 
 
 '' We arrived here on 30th August. Our Brigade 
 consisted of the 92nd Highlanders, 2nd Ghoorkas, 
 23rd and 24th Native Infantry. There was a little 
 fighting in which we took no part the same afternoon, 
 a few shells dropped about our camp but did little 
 harm. 
 
 '* I was out on picket last night and had a good view 
 of the country, at daybreak could plainly see Ayoob's 
 troops busily taking up their different positions, and 
 
120 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 swarms of white-clad Ghazis going off to a big village, 
 on a mound, which was evidently an important 
 position. 
 
 " At 7 a.m. I was relieved from picket, went down 
 and had a good feed. At 8 a.m. we paraded, and then 
 we, the ist Brigade, consisting of the troops already 
 mentioned, went forth on our way to the back of a 
 hill, where v/e were to wait for the artillery to begin, 
 being greeted en route by a smart fire of shells and a 
 few round shot. 
 
 " We could easily get to the top of this hill and look 
 over. It was a pretty sight to see the 40-pounders, a 
 field battery, and the screw guns all at work on the 
 pass, where some of Ayoob's guns were, and at the 
 village in front. 
 
 '' After about twenty minutes of this we went out 
 and were soon behind a high wall which screened our 
 movements. Here Major White directed my company 
 (the leading one) to extend, file out beyond the wall 
 and front turn, which he said would bring me facing 
 the position to he carried, Dick Cunyngham's Company 
 to be on my left, the Ghoorkas on his left again. I did 
 as I was told and got into the open, where I soon found 
 it was all a mistake and I was under a very hot fire, 
 with the company * end on ' as it were. They got 
 puzzled and crowded under some low walls, thereby 
 drawing artillery fire in a dangerous manner. Just then 
 White galloped up, and told me, he had made a mistake 
 owing to a map being wrong, or something, but I 
 managed to change front, and we went at and into the 
 village with a rush, the Ghoorkas close to us. On the 
 roof-tops and among the huts, we had some hottish 
 fighting as the Afghans could not get out. At one 
 place there was a little courtyard with a very narrow 
 passage leading up to it. I led the way into this, 
 calling on my men to follow me. On rounding a 
 corner I found myself face to face with about twenty 
 Afghans. I had got a bit too far ahead of my men, 
 had in fact got well into the open yard with only one 
 drummer near me, before the men came up. I tried 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 121 
 
 to dodge behind a wall for a moment, until the men 
 got up, when we could make a rush together ; a bullet 
 now caught me on my hip, sending me head over heels, 
 sword one way, helmet another. Two of my men 
 dragged me out of the way and the yard was cleared 
 at the point of the bayonet. Two of my company, 
 Dennis and Roddick, carried me to another part of 
 the village which the Ghoorkas had occupied. The 
 doolies were not up, and the sun was blazing hot, so 
 they put me into an apparently empty hut, in order 
 that I might have some shade. I thought I saw a 
 movement in a dark comer, but feeling pretty sick and 
 bad, thought it might be imagination. Dennis laid his 
 rifle against the wall to try and put me in a comfort- 
 able position, Roddick (a drummer) had his sword 
 sheathed, when a Ghazi dashed out of the dark comer 
 with a yell, and began slashing at me right and left. 
 He hit me fortunately with the flat of his sword, a 
 mighty whack on the head, also hit Dennis on the 
 head and cut his arm. I tried to help him and moved 
 on to my side, when the Ghazi turned on me again, 
 gave me a slash on the back as I lay, this time not 
 the flat of his sword, and was just about to finish me 
 off when Roddick and a Ghoorka shot him, and he fell 
 over me dead. 
 
 *' I believe I waited in that hut some time, but do 
 not remember much more about it. I was, I knew, in 
 a horrid mess and everything seemed very far away. 
 The next thing I can remember was finding myself in 
 a little cattle shed in the rear, where Dr. Roe was 
 dressing wounded men. I am told I was carried there 
 in a doolie. When my turn came to be examined Roe 
 was not long ripping up my tunic and shirt. My 
 bashed head and cut back were not pleasant, but 
 what worried me most, was the bullet wound in my hip, 
 the bullet had gone unpleasantly near my spine. On 
 examination it was found my life had been saved by a 
 tin of desiccated soup in my haversack." What the 
 wound can have been like at the time I cannot 
 imagine. When I first saw it more than a year after 
 
122 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 it was an ugly cicatrix the size of the top of a 
 teacup. 
 
 The letter continues, *' The man who shot me was 
 not more than four or five yards off at the most. While 
 Roe was sewing up my cuts and making me say things, 
 of which I know you would not approve, there was an 
 alarm from a lookout-man he had prudently placed, 
 so my excitements were not yet over for the day. Roe 
 hastily collected the only five wounded men able to 
 use a rifle and defended the shed against twenty-five 
 for certain, and probably more Ghazis, who had been 
 hidden somewhere, and tried to rush the place. Fortu- 
 nately they only had swords. So gallantly did Roe 
 and the wounded men fight, not one man got into the 
 place, though they came close up to the walls. After 
 eleven had been satisfactorily accounted for, the 
 rest fled. 
 
 '* I was in a beastly funk all the time; the prospect 
 of being cut up as I lay in a doolie was not reassuring, 
 and I was absolutely helpless. I got sent off to the 
 field hospital a little later but there was no doctor for 
 several hours. It did not matter so much for me, I 
 was to a certain extent patched up, but some of those 
 around me, were in great misery for a long time. 
 Donald Stewart was brought in with a nasty hole in 
 his leg just below the knee. Luckily for him the bone 
 and arteries have not been damaged, but it was a near 
 thing, just the eighth of an inch either way, and it 
 would have necessitated an amputation. 
 
 " After I fell out, the regiment had a desperate fight 
 at a Kotal or pass where the Afghans made their last 
 stand. They (our men) lost heavily, taking a lot of 
 guns at the point of the bayonet. Major White was 
 splendid all through, and how he escaped I cannot tell. 
 Douglas had his horse shot under him. Ayoob's camp 
 and guns fell into their hands, and the victory was 
 complete. We got back our own horse-artillery guns 
 which Ayoob took on 29th July, but they cut the 
 throat of poor Maclean of the Artillery, who had been 
 a prisoner, and well treated for over a month. When 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 123 
 
 found his body was quite warm, he had evidently been 
 killed at the last moment. 
 
 " White came from Simla to Kabul in four days in 
 the height of the hot weather, and a good thing he did ; 
 twelve hours lost anywhere, and he would have been 
 unable to catch the regiment up in time. When he 
 did arrive he did everything, and nobly too. He is 
 returning to take up his appointment again as soon as 
 he can. He had offered to resign but Lord Ripon gave 
 him leave of absence instead. 
 
 '' Poor Colonel Brownlow, 72nd, was shot dead. 
 He was a splendid fellow, very like White in his manner 
 of leading a regiment, and immensely popular in the 
 72nd. Captain Stratton of the 22nd, whom you used 
 to dance with at Naini Tal, was killed by a stray 
 Ghazi at the very end of the day. He was good at all 
 games, polo, rowing, cricket, etc., and also a splendid 
 soldier. 
 
 " I am very tired now, having also written to my 
 father. Lying down is a painful process as I am 
 obliged to lie on one wound or the other. I do hope 
 I may be well enough to march with the regiment, but 
 at present I cannot even turn in bed, without a good 
 deal of help, and I have always the most fiendish 
 headaches, but that will soon wear off.'' 
 
 I, in common with many others (some of whom 
 expressed their views in writing and others verbally), 
 have considered my husband met with scant justice 
 or appreciation for the clever way he got his company 
 out of a very awkward corner when through Major 
 White's mistake he found himself out in the open 
 under heavy fire. I know he felt this himself, but in a 
 measure it was his own fault, for he was always so 
 modest, amounting almost to self-depreciation, that 
 when friends wished to bring his name forward for 
 recognition he strongly objected, and unless it came 
 spontaneously he would have none of it. He was a 
 man absolutely without any ambition, and par- 
 ticularly disliked any form of self-advertisement. 
 When I urged him to let me reply to some kind letters 
 
124 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 I had received from people who had witnessed his 
 action on September ist at Kandahar, and who were 
 wishful to bring his conduct more prominently to 
 notice, he said he would rather not, he would ''leave 
 the self-advertisement business to those who like it." 
 He was so ready himself to acknowledge merit in 
 others, so full of praise for those who did well, it 
 pained us not a little that those who knew best what 
 he deserved should allow the moment to pass without 
 further mention. I have a variety of interesting 
 newspaper cuttings referring to the part my husband 
 took in the battle of Kandahar. 
 
 He received the Afghan Medal with three clasps, 
 Kandahar, Kabul, Charasia, also the Kabul to 
 Kandahar March Medal, being also honourably men- 
 tioned by Lord Roberts. 
 
 I have a tray full of medals won by my husband at 
 different times, but the only military ones are those 
 mentioned above. The rest are for walking, running, 
 jumping and swimming. Amongst others a cross so 
 like the little bronze one '' For Valour '' that it has 
 sometimes been mistaken for it by people who had 
 never seen the V.C. very close. On the back of this 
 little bronze cross, which is suspended from a green 
 and red striped ribbon, is written, *' Bradford Athletic 
 Festival, July 24th, 1869. Two miles walking race 
 won by," etc. etc. Another most imposing decoration 
 in bronze I see was won at the Leeds Athletic Club, 
 the ribbon being purple and black. In a purple velvet 
 case reposes a very large and handsome silver medallion 
 presented by the Marquess of Dufferin and Ava to the 
 best shot in the Royal North Down Rifles, Lord 
 Dufferin being the Colonel. 
 
 Other letters I received at this time provided me 
 with food for thought, some of the accounts of the 
 Maiwand disaster on July 27th, 1880, too miserable and 
 full of painful incompetence to bear repeating. A 
 cousin of mine. General Harry Wilkinson, who was 
 one of the youngest generals in the Army, and who 
 had commanded the i6th Lancers for some time, was 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 125 
 
 one of those who sat on the Board of Enquiry. 
 I received other letters from those who had only 
 visited the battlefield, yet from them I seemed to 
 picture the whole scene. Water so near yet no one 
 knew it ! men and horses dying of thirst, our troops 
 coming unexpectedly upon hordes of the enemy 
 without knowing even of their proximity. It seems all 
 like a bad dream, yet before me, as I write, lies docu- 
 mentary evidence. 
 
 In one small enclosure were found thirty-three 
 unburied bodies of the men of the 66th Regiment who 
 had stood against the enemy until all were killed, 
 while the rest of the troops were retiring from the field 
 in disorder. Lines of dead artillery horses, showing 
 most instructively what the positions had been. But 
 all that is old history now, and as in the Crimea it 
 was a case of *' Somebody Blundered.'' 
 
 In contrast to this I find some amusing accounts 
 and stories of the chief characters taking part on that 
 historic stage. I quote from one letter, ** It is very 
 amusing to witness the shifts General Baker is put to 
 
 in keeping Colonel out of the way when anything 
 
 important has to be done. He was obliged to give the 
 man a brigade on the 13th, but managed so that he had 
 nothing to do. I and the '* old man " (my husband) 
 
 overheard him say in reference to Colonel , * We 
 
 can't have him in command, he'll play perfect hell 
 with the business,' referring to some hills we had to 
 take on the 12th. The poor old boy gets hopelessly 
 confused in the field, generally says something quite 
 different to what he means, and swears if he is not 
 understood ; en parenthhe he seldom manages to carry 
 out an order correctly himself." 
 
 My husband, when speaking of the way different 
 men gave their orders always spoke of Major White in 
 terms of praise. I observe in one letter he says, 
 " White's orders are always clear and intelligible, he 
 takes care to explain them. Hay is pretty good, but 
 not equal to White." 
 
 He then passes on to speak of another brother 
 
126 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 officer ; ** Dick Cunyngham did splendidly on the 
 13th. He had been on the sick list and still had a bad 
 foot, but led his men in grand style. Jack Napier also 
 has done very well indeed and is very modest about 
 it. You will have received my telegram by now 
 telling you I am still in the land of the living. How 
 the report got about that I was dead, I don't know, 
 but it was very general. I have been receiving 
 numerous congratulations on being alive ! . . . 
 
 " Poor Hamilton is still sick, I hear. If he is unable 
 to take part in the fighting he will be very disappointed, 
 as he is so keen. I am forwarding your letter to him.'' 
 
 The *' poor Hamilton " above mentioned is the 
 present Sir Ian Hamilton, of whom I have already 
 written. The '' Jack Napier " was another favourite 
 brother officer in the 92nd, to whom I have also 
 already introduced my readers ; he was the second son 
 of the loth Baron Napier and Etterick. *' The Hon. 
 Jack," as most people called him, was an athlete and 
 good with the gloves, as well as being a most amusing 
 person. He is probably well known to a number of my 
 readers. 
 
 The White mentioned in many of my letters refers 
 to the late Field-Marshal Sir George White, v.c. 
 
 Many kind friends at the front kept me supplied 
 with news of my husband after he was wounded. 
 
 The present Sir West Ridgeway, who was then 
 acting as political officer with the Field Force, was 
 the first to send me a telegram of sympathy and to 
 inform me of the hopefulness of my husband's con- 
 dition. This was followed quickly by another tele- 
 gram from Sir Frederick Roberts, who was also good 
 enough to write later, after reaching home, saying he 
 was sorry to hear my husband's wounds still troubled 
 him. 
 
 Thanks to my husband's wonderful constitution it 
 was not long before he was on his feet once more, but 
 he was never quite the same again after the blow he 
 received on his head from the Ghazi's sword, while he 
 was lying helpless on the ground, suffering from hi§ 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 127 
 
 other wounds. I heard the drummer boy Roddick 
 won fresh laurels for himself in South Africa and was 
 recommended for the Victoria Cross, but died before 
 he had the pleasure of receiving it, so it was given to 
 his mother. I always think it must be agony to 
 receive the little cross, or any other reward, that 
 would have meant so much to our man in his lifetime. 
 It would only add to my bitter pain, I should feel 
 resentful and want to go and bury it in his grave. 
 
 The 92nd Highlanders had arrived at Cawnpore on 
 their way home, when a telegram ordered them off to 
 South Africa. My husband was not one of those on 
 Majuba Hill that fateful February 27th, 1881, he was 
 with the rest of the troops in the Mount Prospect 
 Camp at the foot of the hill. On the night of the 26th 
 the order came that all the troops must lie down in 
 readiness for action, prepared for any occasion that 
 might arise. No one was even to undo a buckle. 
 Speaking of this night, my spouse said, *' In fact we 
 were to sleep with one eye open. 
 
 '' The night was cold and dark, no lights were 
 allowed, everybody threw themselves down and cer- 
 tain musical snorings told me many, if not all, were 
 very shortly asleep. 
 
 '* My foot had been hurt a few days previously by a 
 horse standing on it. No great harm was done, but it 
 was swollen and painful, preventing me from joining the 
 snoring chorus. At last, unable to bear my boot any 
 longer, I kicked it off my bad foot and went to sleep. 
 
 '* Suddenly, while not yet properly light, the bugle 
 sounded the alarm. We all scrambled to our feet, 
 treading on each other's faces in our haste. I groped 
 about trying to find my boot, but nowhere could I feel 
 it, so there was no alternative but to go without it. 
 This I did, and fought all day without. Never again 
 did I set eyes on that boot.*' 
 
 While my husband was having all these fine though 
 strenuous times fighting, I was waiting at home. 
 
 I think it must have been during the early part of 
 the hunting season of 1876 that I rnet the Empress of 
 
128 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Austria for the first time, but my dates are rather 
 foggy. At any rate she was renting Cottesbrooke Park 
 and hunting in the Pytchley Country. Most of her 
 suite were at Guilsborough Hall, whilst Count Larish 
 with his family was at Lamport Hall, both close to 
 Cottesbrooke. I do not remember where Captain 
 Middleton stayed or Prince Kinsky, but they were a 
 good deal with the Spencers at Althorp. Perhaps the 
 Middletons were at Newbottle Manor, now I think of 
 it I beheve they were. All the houses in that neigh- 
 bourhood were occupied by sportsmen. Captain 
 Elmhirst, the '' Brooksby" of The Field, hailed from 
 The Hall, Blisworth, Northampton ; now, I am sorry 
 to say, this fine sportsman is sadly broken in health 
 and the saddle knows him no more. But I was 
 meaning to write of that thrice unhappy woman, 
 Elisabeth, Empress of Austria, whose weak and 
 wicked husband has so lately died (November 22nd, 
 1916), carrying on his intrigues to the time of his 
 death, and leaving in his will considerable sums of 
 money to the woman who played so large a part in the 
 tragedy of the poor Empress's life. Much of the un- 
 happiness was caused by her mother-in-law, the Arch- 
 duchess Sophia, who was determined to keep all power 
 in her own hands, in which her son, Franz Joseph, 
 through his weakness and vanity, seconded her. 
 
 It seems a strange thing that with such an over- 
 powering family pride the Emperor did not try to 
 uphold its better traditions, still more strange that a 
 woman possessed of such spirit as EUsabeth should 
 have allowed herself to be domineered over, either by 
 her husband or his mother, but these poor royal 
 queens are not allowed to have any feelings, or marry 
 whom they please, their children are not their own, 
 they belong to their country ; their husbands are not 
 their own, and if they indulge in an extra wife or two, 
 the legal and official wives must carry their heads high, 
 and pretend not to see. At times they must wonder if 
 their very souls are their own. 
 
 A little study of the family history of the Hapsburgs 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 129 
 
 and Wittelsbachs leads one to the conclusion that it 
 could hardly have been expected to be a happy union. 
 Both husband and wife were too nearly related ; also 
 on his side there was hereditary epilepsy and on hers 
 hereditary madness. Her cousin, Ludwig H of Bavaria, 
 suffered from fits of madness, while she herself once tried 
 to end her misery by drowning, being rescued by one of 
 her ladies-in-waiting. 
 
 This remarkable woman's appearance in the English 
 hunting field was very memorable. Austria seemed 
 almost as remote and far away a place to the average 
 country squire in those days as does '* Ruretania *' in 
 The Prisoner of Zenda to the schoolboys of to-day. 
 Yet she was an Empress straight from these realms of 
 romance. Imperious and beautiful, flashing across 
 our grass countries in the wake of the dare-devil Bay 
 Middleton. Both superbly mounted, and riding as if 
 they carried spare necks in their pockets. She not only 
 rode hard, but recklessly — for the same reason that so 
 many have ridden recklessly — to leave unpleasant 
 memories behind. 
 
 And yet Bay Middleton used to say she could not 
 make a horse gallop, but there he made the mistake of 
 thinking no woman ever could. Be that as it may, he 
 used to get impatient with the Empress and shout out, 
 ** Oh, come along, Madame, do come along ! '* 
 
 What lovers of the music of hounds are there who 
 have not started out in the morning feeling as if all the 
 cares of the churches of Asia were on their shoulders, 
 and returned without a cobweb or a care in their 
 hearts. 
 
 The Empress was a magnificent horsewoman. She 
 had devoted much of her time to riding after she left 
 her husband the first time. The Frenchman named 
 Gebhardt gave her lessons, Eliza Renz, a celebrated 
 horsewoman whose acquaintance she had made, also 
 taught her a good deal. 
 
 It was during Lord Spencer's second mastership, if 1 
 remember rightly, that she came over to hunt in 
 England. 
 
130 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Prince Kinsky who also came over with her selected 
 Captain Middleton of the 12th Lancers (generally 
 known as '' Bay Middleton ") to act as her pilot. 
 A better choice he could hardly have made, for he was 
 a man of judgment and nerve. He it was who intro- 
 duced me to the Empress at her request. It was at a 
 meet at Althorp and I was talking to the great 
 sporting parson, Jack Russell, at the moment. What 
 a beautiful woman she was and what a curious mixture 
 of unconventional and imperial dignity, jealous of her 
 rights, yet indifferent to comment. She became a great 
 favourite in England ; all admired, while none could 
 help pitying her. I can see her now as I saw her first 
 on the back of a 15.2 dark brown mare with black 
 points, riding in a side-saddle, for it was in the days 
 when riding astride had long been out of fashion and 
 had not yet come in again. 
 
 The hats and habits prevalent in 1876 and for many 
 years later look very ridiculous to-day, yet at the time 
 we fancied ourselves, thinking them chic and business- 
 like. How did we keep our hats on, I wonder ? with 
 our hair dressed so elaborately. But now I think of 
 it we did not always keep them on. It was no un- 
 common sight to see untidy hair and hats gone astray. 
 Then again the habits, the voluminous skirts that 
 required so much skilful arranging, which worried an 
 impetuous mount, longing to be oS. 
 
 At the end of that first season's hunting in England, 
 the date of which I am now uncertain. Captain 
 Middleton and a few sporting spirits arranged a hunt 
 meeting on Hopping Hill for the amusement of the 
 Empress of Austria. She was so interested in this 
 meeting that she gave two cups to be raced for, one for 
 the followers and subscribers of the hunt, the other 
 for the farmers. It was a great day, surely never were 
 there such a crowd of celebrities gathered together at 
 a hunt meeting. 
 
 Both events were to be run in hunting kit over a 
 flagged course, after the fashion of our point-to-point 
 meetings to-day ; that is to say before the war. 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 131 
 
 All present on that Hopping Hill day will remember 
 it. The extreme simplicity of the arrangements, the 
 picturesque surroundings and everybody in hunting 
 kit. All the country folks for miles round had gathered 
 up for this hastily convened meeting. There was no 
 grand stand, no judge's box, it was just a simple and 
 truly tu-ru-rural meeting, witnessed by some of the 
 most noted people of latter-day English history. The 
 surrounding hills were covered with onlookers, for 
 from there the entire course could be seen, enabling 
 the horses to be watched nearly from start to finish. 
 
 At the end of the run home stood a waggon, or hay 
 cart, and a huge flagstaff, to tell the riders it was the 
 winning-post. 
 
 The day being bright the Empress drove up in an 
 open carriage and pair, seated beside her was our 
 present Queen Mother (Alexandra), two beautiful and 
 stately women. It must have been a novel sight to 
 the Empress, its very simplicity was so telling, a 
 beautiful day, a rural gathering shorn of all pomp and 
 manufactured spectacular show. 
 
 The excitement was greatly enhanced by the 
 Empress presenting two prizes. The first race, to be 
 ridden by the followers and subscribers of the hunt, 
 was won by Captain Middleton on a favourite grey 
 horse named '' Piccadilly,'' which he often rode when 
 leading the Empress. There was wild excitement 
 when the cup was presented to him. Without doubt 
 it was a popular win, and I am pleased to say the 
 gallant grey hailed from Yorkshire, being bred in that 
 sporting county ^nd ridden there in the Holdemess 
 country for two or three seasons by that charming 
 sporting parson, the Rev. Cecil Legard,who sold the 
 gee to Captain Middleton, and who is, I am happy to 
 say, still with us. 
 
 The farmers' race was won by E. P. Wilson, a very 
 great horseman, better really than Captain Middleton. 
 Wilson was very successful during that period and 
 later in his steeplechase riding. Amongst other races 
 he won the Liverpool on *' Voluptuary " in 1884, and 
 
132 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 on '* Roquefort " in 1885. I believe he is still living. 
 He further immortalized himself by placing the 
 National Hunt Steeplechase record against his name 
 by winning that event on five occasions, all being 
 accomplished on four-year-olds, now not allowed to 
 take part in the contest. 
 
 Some wonderful stories were circulated about the 
 Empress when first she came over to hunt in this 
 country. I remember being solemnly told that she 
 had electricity stored on the pommel of her saddle, 
 with which she used to surprise her horses into taking 
 marvellous jumps. 
 
 She certainly had one curious habit — of carrying 
 a fan in her hand, it looked strangely out of place in 
 the saddle. She used to hold it up between her face 
 and the crowds who came out to stare at her — 
 ostensibly, of course, to keep the light from hurting 
 her eyes. 
 
 It seemed to me that fatigue and the Empress were 
 strangers. After a day's hunting that left most of the 
 followers limp, she would sip some coffee or tea, and 
 do acrobatic exercises ! 
 
 It was a mystery to me what she lived on, her 
 appetite was so small, like our Queen Alexandra, who 
 eats about as much as a small bird ! The Duchess 
 Paul of Mecklenburg-Schwerin was another who lived 
 on air; I remember once at luncheon her having a 
 private dish of vinegary cabbage cut up in shreds, 
 while the rest of us were having chicken, lobster salad 
 and other agreeable edibles. 
 
 The Empress returned to hunt in this country again 
 in 1878-9, this time in Ireland, chiefly with the Meath. 
 I have heard a good story in connection with this visit. 
 If anything was wanting to prove the wandering 
 Empress's keenness this should be convincing. 
 
 One day while hunting in Ireland somewhere near 
 Maynooth College the fox made straight for the 
 College and disappeared through a hole in the wall 
 that surrounds the recreation ground, shooting, as 
 she afterwards heard, into the middle of a football 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 133 
 
 scrimmage hard followed by the pack. Naturally the 
 players were somewhat surprised, but still more so 
 when, almost directly, a horse leapt over the wall after 
 them, ridden by a woman in a dripping habit. This 
 was the Empress Elisabeth, who, rather than lose sight 
 of the hounds, had swum across the river with her 
 mount and then jumped into the College grounds. 
 All were most polite to her, and the head of the 
 College said he was sorry he had nothing better to 
 offer her wherewith to replace her wet habit than his 
 doctor's robes. These she accepted saying something 
 pleasant about hoping she might keep them as a 
 remembrance of the kindness she had received from 
 all at the College. 
 
 There was great disappointment at the Viceregal 
 Lodge that the Empress could not be persuaded to 
 pay them a visit. She said she could not spare the 
 time, being in Ireland for hunting. 
 
 The third visit the Empress paid to this country was 
 in 1880-1, this time she hunted with Sir Watkin Wynn 
 — the Cheshire and North Shropshire. 
 
 It was about this time that I had the grief of losing 
 my little son, and well I remember the kindness of the 
 Empress EUsabeth, and her saying I had the comfort 
 denied to some of knowing what I loved best in the 
 world had been taken while spotless and acceptable in 
 God's sight. Poor woman, she was without doubt 
 thinking of the miserable life of her son, the Archduke 
 Rudolph. My heart went out to her, she must have 
 felt it would have been better if he had died when a 
 baby. 
 
 I doubt if many people know what a martyrdom 
 that unhappy woman's life was. She had so looked 
 forward to the advent of her baby and had been 
 robbed of him almost at once, being told he belonged 
 to the state and not to her. It always struck me as 
 rather beautiful the way when her miserable, dissipated 
 wreck of a son died in 1889 she turned to her husband 
 to try and comfort him ; forgetting his infideUties and 
 many unkindnesses in her anxiety to help him to bear 
 
134 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 the shock. I am glad she never knew the true story 
 of her son's death ; she always believed he died by his 
 own hand in a moment of drunkenness, accepting the 
 newspaper version of suicide, vC^hereas he was killed 
 in a drunken brawl in his own shooting lodge. I am 
 also more than glad that she did not see her son's body 
 until it had been made more natural-looking. The 
 face had been terribly smashed by the blow of a 
 champagne bottle, after which he had been dragged 
 to his bed, where his murdered love, her face also 
 much disfigured, was laid beside him. 
 
 Count Graf von Altham, who was in the diplomatic 
 service and an intimate friend of Prince Rudolph, 
 saw the body before any of the Royal family were 
 allowed to see it. He said the Prince's face was most 
 wonderfully pieced together and filled in with wax so 
 as to conceal the traces of the blow from the bottle 
 before the body was placed in a glass case, and the 
 public allowed to walk past as is the custom. So 
 cleverly was this carried out that the stream of people, 
 moving past in single file, noticed nothing amiss. 
 
 What led up to this last fatal debauch, was a scene 
 with his wife and his father the Emperor. Prince 
 Rudolph had never cared for his wife, who it will be 
 remembered was Princess Stephanie of Coburg. He 
 considered her plain and unattractive, to add to this 
 he was convinced there would be no male heir. Being 
 a selfish and unrestrained libertine, the Prince's 
 conduct soon became so flagrant that his wife com- 
 plained to the Emperor and her father. The latter 
 told her she had married for better or for worse and she 
 must put up with it ; besides, he did not see what there 
 was to complain about as she was the wife of the 
 Prince and had plenty to eat and drink, money for all 
 her needs, and what more could she want ? 
 
 Her father-in-law hardly knew what to do, his own 
 life not being exactly blameless, but he sent for his 
 son and a stormy interview followed, when no doubt, 
 a few mutual recriminations were bandied between 
 them. Then came Queen Victoria's Jubilee and the 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 135 
 
 Emperor chose the Crown Prince and Princess to 
 represent him in London, but on hearing that the lady 
 with whom the Prince was at the time epris had 
 preceded them, the Princess refused to go. The 
 Emperor then told his son he must give up the lady 
 causing all the unpleasantness, and the Prince sum- 
 moned up sufficient courage to write and tell the 
 Baroness Marie Vetochera that their friendship must 
 end and they must meet no more. 
 
 Nevertheless, they did meet, for she was in the 
 hunting-box on the last night of his life and was the 
 lady who lost her life with him. Some time before his 
 death the Prince had been in the habit of taking 
 morphia. His Hfe was one long debauch, even the 
 Vienna cabmen joining in the revels. 
 
 After her son's death the Empress became very 
 silent and even more reckless of her life. The Emperor 
 begged her not to go about so much alone as at that 
 time there were so many anarchists he feared her 
 being harmed : she replied, *' There are worse things 
 than death.'' As everyone knows, it was Luccheni the 
 anarchist who killed her. There being no death 
 penalty in the Courts of Geneva, Luccheni suffers 
 what is surely far, far worse, solitary confinement for 
 life. I know if the gentle woman he murdered were 
 with us to-day that man would be free, she would 
 have forgiven him long ago. 
 
 Once the Empress asked me who was the best 
 doctor in England. 
 
 I answered, "If it is a question of babies send for 
 
 Dr. G of Grosvenor Street, he is very clever and 
 
 asks what kind of medicine you like best, will tell you 
 all about the duchesses he attends, and the earls who 
 have sold him miserable screws of carriage horses for 
 long sums, which he gladly paid knowing no earl 
 would take him in ! Remember his little weakness is 
 dukes and duchesses." 
 
 " Will not an Empress do as well ? " she asked. 
 
 I repUed I was sure she would be a great treat ! 
 
 *' If you have any ordinary malady do not go to M 
 
136 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 S , he sometimes forgets when referring to one's 
 
 anatomy that he is not a vet. 
 
 ''If you want your nerves soothed and your pulse felt 
 
 with soft white hands, send for Dr. P of Hertford 
 
 Street, he is cultured and soothing. 
 
 ''If you want to hear all the latest scandal from 
 
 drawing-rooms and kitchens send for '* but here we 
 
 were interrupted. Now all these doctors are dead. 
 
 Poor Empress, I liked to see her amused, she had 
 grown so sad latterly. When speaking about the 
 reckless way she used to ride at times, she said she had 
 no fear of death, saying her soul had been dead for so 
 many years it did not matter when her body followed 
 it, and this is what happens when people marry who 
 think in different languages. 
 
 To-day the murdered mother lies beside her 
 murdered son in the Capuchin Monastery. And now 
 Franz Joseph has gone. Few monarchs have reigned 
 so long or lived through such a wealth of sorrow. But 
 who are we that we should dare to judge him ? 
 
 When the Empress said good-bye to Captain 
 Middleton on leaving England she gave him a ring as 
 a keepsake, saying if ever it went out of his possession 
 some fatality would result. Strange to relate this 
 proved to be correct, for the ring was stolen from him 
 when in Ireland, and although he did not regard it as a 
 talisman, both he and the giver died violent deaths. 
 
 Writing of this ring reminds me there is a story told 
 of certain ill-gotten jewels, stolen from some Hindu 
 temple, which found their way into the Hapsburg 
 treasure-chest. All who possessed them came under 
 the curse of the gods, not only those responsible for 
 their removal, but also those who even by accident 
 became the owner of them at once came under the ban 
 of the gods, ending in violent or miserable deaths. 
 
 Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette are supposed to 
 have had some of these jewels, they both had their 
 heads cut off. Louis Philippe is likewise supposed to 
 have possessed some, he died an exile. King Alexander 
 and Queen Draga were again punished by being 
 
THE AFGHAN WAR 137 
 
 murdered. Prince Rudolph and his mother. Maxi- 
 miUan shot in Mexico, and many more, all supposed 
 to have owned some of those temple jewels. 
 
 Someone told me a short time ago the German 
 Emperor has some of the stolen jewels that carry such 
 trouble with them. If he is wise he will have thrown 
 them into the sea, but then, according to all accounts, 
 that does not do away with the curse. 
 
 These curses are very uncanny things. I remember 
 once, on board ship coming home from Egypt, meeting a 
 very nice boy, named Walter Ingram, some relation 
 to the proprietor of The Illustrated London News. We 
 all liked him. He was so simple, straightforward, and 
 withal so plucky. He had brought out from England 
 a tiny steam launch, which he and his engineer put 
 together on arrival, and with which they hoped to be 
 able to proceed up the Nile. This hazardous enterprise 
 was attempted with only himself, his engineer and a 
 stoker on board, unless Mr. Prior was with him, but of 
 this I am not quite sure. After they were wrecked he 
 joined Lord Charles Beresford and was present with 
 him in the action of Wad Habeshi above Metemmeh 
 on February 3rd, 1885. 
 
 While journeying in Egypt Mr. Ingram had bought 
 a well-preserved mummy, which he sent home in its 
 wax-dipped wrappings. It was on his return journey 
 from the Nile expedition that I met him. Shortly 
 after this he went off on a big-game shooting expedition 
 through Abyssinia and Somaliland, where he was 
 killed by a tiger, elephant or some wild beast and was 
 buried on a small island standing in a river flowing 
 from Somaliland southwards. 
 
 His relations at home sent out a man to locate the 
 grave and bring the body back to lie amongst his own 
 kindred, but no trace of the island could be found, 
 although the Somali hunters who had been with the 
 unfortunate man joined in the search. It was then 
 discovered that the island had been completely 
 washed away by a big flood from the Abyssinian 
 mountains. 
 
138 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 As poor Mr. Ingram did not return to unpack his 
 Egyptian curios, they were attended to for him, and 
 among other things the mummy was unwrapped. On 
 the latter were found various writings, which were 
 translated by Egyptologists, and were found to be a 
 number of curses to fall on anyone who should disturb 
 the rest of the mummified dead. 
 
 " May he be abandoned by the gods. May wild 
 beasts destroy his life on earth, and after his death may 
 the floods of the angered rivers root up his bones, and 
 scatter his dust to the winds of heaven.'' 
 
 I remember a rather funny incident arising out of 
 the famous mummified Princess in the British Museum, 
 which brought disaster to everybody who had anything 
 to do with its transhipment to England. The case 
 created a good deal of public interest at the time, and 
 one of the chief London halfpenny morning papers 
 began giving news articles about it. Each man on the 
 paper who attempted to write the article fell ill, but 
 they continued to '' run " the story until the Editor 
 himself was seized with a sudden and mysterious 
 malady, which scared him so much that he decided 
 that not another word was to be written about the 
 mummy. So the '* stunt '' was hastily dropped, 
 whereupon the sufferers recovered and returned to 
 work much chastened. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 BAY MIDDLETON 
 
 Bay Middleton — His Riding Weight — Luncheon in the York Refresh- 
 ment-room — The Archbishop Joins Us — We Ask Him for Informa- 
 tion — He is Unable to Give it — Cricket in Ireland — A Visit to 
 Althorp — A Romp and the Result — Captain Middleton's Death — 
 How it Happened — Prince Kinsky Buys " Zoedone." 
 
 THE name of Captain William George Middle- 
 ton, better known as *' Bay " Middleton, 
 recalls many pleasant memories. For smart- 
 ness it would be difficult to find another trio to com- 
 pare with the late Empress of Austria, her pilot (Bay 
 Middleton) and their friend, Prince Kinsky : all good- 
 looking, well moxmted, and possessing that knowledge, 
 or shall I call it art, that can never be acquired, of 
 knowing what to wear and how to wear it. 
 
 At no time can I remember seeing Bay Middleton 
 other than smart. Never a hair out of place, never 
 a crinkle too much or too little in his well-cut and 
 admirably fitting garments. Boots, stocks, ties and 
 all the little etceteras '* just so.'' His figure, tall and 
 well proportioned, lent itself to the showing off of 
 clothes and horses. From the time of his birth in 1846 
 he appears to have been blessed with the riding thighs 
 and legs so necessary for a firm and graceful seat in 
 the saddle. He was much envied by the round-thighed 
 and round-legged horsemen. The more a man is made 
 after the fashion of the sparrow, the better he looks 
 when mounted. 
 
 It has always been a mystery to me how Bay 
 Middleton succeeded in bringing down his weight 
 sufficiently for steeple-chasing, and I wonder if he 
 practised the heroic measures my own good man 
 
 139 
 
140 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 struggled with when reducing his weight to ride in 
 India. His methods were a revelation to me. Hitherto 
 I had vaguely thought that if a man grew too fat he 
 docked his beer and banted until his proper proportions 
 were regained. I found, however, that weight-reducing 
 was a very serious matter, not to be undertaken lightly. 
 
 I did not think that either Captain Middleton or my 
 husband had any superfluity of substance to reduce : 
 but after a few weeks in India, the latter informed me 
 one day that he wished to be called early as he was 
 going to begin training. At the appointed time his 
 bearer arrived and awakened his master, who was a 
 trifle annoyed in consequence, but would have been 
 more annoyed if he had not done so. While dressing, 
 my good man threw back the purdah between his 
 dressing-room and mine, and conversed with me. I 
 could hardly believe my eyes, for it was in the hot 
 weather, when I saw a thick sweater with long sleeves 
 and a high collar thrown over his head and pulled into 
 place, a coat was donned over this, followed by a 
 variety of pants and trousers, the final touch being 
 a muffler thrown over his head and twisted round his 
 throat. A voice from inside these wraps informed me 
 he was off for a three-mile run ! I was amazed and 
 felt hot merely looking at him, wondering how he 
 could move at all, much less run. 
 
 After dressing leisurely I was just preparing to leave 
 my room with a handful of letters and books, when 
 back came my lord, still running, dashed into bed 
 just as he was, seized a dressing-gown of mine (that 
 I rather fancied), wrapped it round his head, dived 
 under the clothes and shouted for hot tea with lemon 
 and no milk or sugar. It all took place in a flash, and 
 I was still standing staring in wonderment when a 
 muffled voice drowned in bedclothes and wraps 
 addressed me, ** Put some more warm things on me." 
 This process in varying forms of severity took place 
 daily. All invitations were declined, as the sight of 
 other people eating good things that are forbidden 
 to those in training was too much for my man to endure. 
 
BAY MIDDLETON 141 
 
 He succeeded in riding the required weight, but I was 
 not sorry when the training was over, it made him so 
 irritable. I hope Bay Middleton did not have to go 
 through this ordeal. 
 
 The early part of Bay's life was divided between 
 military duties, racing, steeple-chasing, bear-fighting 
 and practical jokes, he being a leading member of the 
 Practical Joke Committee reigning in the sixties and 
 seventies, when such things were not considered bad 
 taste. Now if we asked young men to stay with us 
 and doors had to be barricaded against them at night, 
 I doubt if they would be asked again, yet I know that 
 when Bay and some congenial spirits were staying 
 with friends, it was considered wise to fortify the doors 
 at night. His playful tricks became so well known 
 that when old Lord Strathnairn went to stay at Went- 
 worth with Lord Fitzwilliam and found Bay a fellow- 
 guest, he took the precaution of placing a chest of 
 drawers against his bedroom door. 
 
 Captain Middleton married in 1871 Miss Baird, of 
 Rosemount. He did not remain long in the Service 
 after this, retiring at the age of twenty-nine ; it was 
 almost directly afterwards he became the pilot of the 
 Empress of Austria. 
 
 There were two things I always regretted about him, 
 one was the way he used at times to lose his temper 
 with horses, and bully them, the other was his deaf- 
 ness. He was only slightly deaf, and when in a room 
 and all was quiet he could hear fairly well ; but in the 
 street, when other people were talking, or when there 
 was music anywhere near, it became necessary to raise 
 your voice considerably. It was easy to see he was 
 hard of hearing for he had that pecuHar '' all attention " 
 look in his eyes which usually accompanies deafness. 
 I remember one occasion when poor Bay's hardness 
 of hearing made me feel very foolish. A large party 
 of us were staying near York for one of the Yeomanry 
 balls, which were always popular and at which the 
 County were well represented. Eight of us were 
 having luncheon in the station refreshment-room at 
 
142 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 York, which was a regular rendezvous at all times 
 when anything was going on in the town. I was the 
 guest of the Rev. George Hustler and his wife ; sitting 
 opposite to me was Captain Middleton; on my right 
 Mr. Hustler, a delightful old sporting parson ; on my 
 left Captain Lascelles of the 9th Lancers. There were 
 several girls amongst our party, and the conversation 
 and laughter was fairly general. From time to time 
 Captain Middleton looked at me enquiringly when he 
 did not catch the joke, and I repeated it to him. He 
 was very sensitive about asking anybody to help him. 
 In the midst of luncheon the Archbishop of York, 
 Thomson by name, hearing I was in the refreshment- 
 room, came in to give me a message he wished delivered 
 to my mother. He stood by my chair chatting for 
 some time ; presently there was a pause, that made 
 itself felt. Searching through my mind for something 
 to say in the way of polite conversation to the great 
 man standing by me in an attitude that all might 
 admire him, I asked, bending my head in the direc- 
 tion of a chicken that Captain Lascelles with his eye- 
 glass screwed firmly into his eye and his brow puckered 
 was endeavouring to carve, *' Can you tell me which 
 way up that chicken would run if it were alive and 
 kicking ? " They look so different on a dish. The 
 poor A.B., as we used disrespectfully to call him, 
 looked quite worried and thoughtful, evidently he 
 was as ignorant of housekeeping matters as I was. 
 The whole table giggled in a suppressed manner wait- 
 ing for his answer. Meanwhile Captain Lascelles was 
 turning the fowl over and over into all sorts of attitudes 
 to illustrate what he thought would be the most 
 natural way for it to run. At last his lordship burst 
 out laughing and said he really did not know. Of 
 course we all laughed, it was the proper thing to do, 
 but I saw Bay Middleton looking at me with question- 
 ing eyes. He had not grasped the joke. Horrid 
 moment ! Could I shout it all out, had I enough 
 nerve ? Yes ! it must be done, otherwise he would 
 feel uncomfortable, so I had to explain my silly. 
 
BAY MIDDLETON 143 
 
 miserable little funniness, and his lordship's reply, at 
 the top of my voice, while everybody stopped to listen. 
 
 I felt like a parrot belonging to some relatives of 
 mine, which was turned out of the room during family 
 prayers one morning because it would repeat the rela- 
 tive's petitions to the Almighty. Just as the solemn 
 butler was putting the cage outside the door, the old 
 bird put its head on one side and in its habitual nasal 
 voice said, " I wish I hadn't spoke." That is how I 
 felt in the York refreshment-room. 
 
 Writing of people being a little deaf reminds me 
 of a dear old lady, a great friend of mine, who was 
 really very deaf and always used a speaking-tube. She 
 was giving a large garden party ; some of her family 
 usually stayed near to assist her in receiving her 
 guests, but on this occasion for a short time she was 
 left alone. I was standing near and saw a family 
 party arrive who had a cousin staying with them 
 home from the Colonies. Our hostess seeing she did 
 not know the man's face addressed some kindly words 
 of welcome to him, and presented him with the mouth- 
 piece of her ear trumpet. A look of terror spread itself 
 over the youth's face while he glanced right and left 
 for a way of escape, but was hurried up by a dig in the 
 ribs from those standing behind him. He then raised 
 the receiver to somewhere near his face and shouted, 
 ** Great Scott ! " dropped the speaking-tube and 
 hurried on, scarlet in the face and neck, full of sorrow 
 at his awkwardness and anger with his relatives for 
 not having warned him. 
 
 Captain Middleton was fond of cricket and formed 
 one of Captain Chandos Leigh's Zingari eleven, which 
 occasionally went to play in Ireland. Bay once 
 caused some amusement when they were playing 
 against the Viceregal Lodge during the Duke of Aber- 
 com's Lord Lieutenancy. It was after dinner, at the 
 Castle, when Sir Chandos, on bended knee and with 
 considerable pomp and ceremony, was in the act of 
 presenting the freedom of the Zingari to the Duchess. 
 Mischievous Bay crept up behind and pinned his 
 
144 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 pocket handkerchief on to the coat-tails of the kneehng 
 courtier. Sir Chandos could not think what everybody 
 was laughing at, and felt ruffled, as he was rather 
 fancying both the neatness of his speech and appear- 
 ance. When he found out the way his otherwise 
 picturesque little ceremony had been turned to ridicule 
 and merriment he was quite angry. 
 
 Prince Kinsky was a great admirer of Captain Middle- 
 ton. He once said, *' In my younger days Bay was my 
 beau-ideal of a first-rate rider to hounds, though he 
 had rather a military seat. It was not stiff ; on the 
 contrary, quite elastic. Out hunting he and his horse 
 were a picture worth looking at." Here I agree with 
 the Prince, so long as all was going well, but if a horse 
 displeased Bay the picture was not pretty. 
 
 The night before his marriage Captain Middleton 
 gave a dinner at the Cafe Royal in Regent Street. 
 Some of those who were there speak of it as a *' hot 
 night," the scrimmages and bear-fighting surpassing 
 all previous experiences. Prince Kinsky said he 
 fought at least twenty men that night and found his 
 friend Bay the hardest to beat. Captain Middleton 
 was at all times a great favourite. I usually heard 
 him spoken of as '' a good sort," and was, I know, a 
 warm-hearted friend. 
 
 Prince Kinsky told an amusing story of one of 
 their visits to the Spencers at Althorp, when he and 
 Captain Middleton nearly got themselves into trouble 
 with their romps and high jinks. It happened thus. 
 The ladies had gone to bed. Lord Spencer and the 
 two skylarkers adjourned to the billiard-room. It 
 was not long before the romping began. Bay opened 
 the ball by throwing a lemon across the room at the 
 Prince, who picked it up and returned it with some 
 force. It cannoned off his friend and shot through the 
 half -open door of the adjourning library, now all in 
 darkness. The fighters were somewhat sobered by 
 hearing a tremendous crash, evidently broken glass, 
 and who could tell what else. A catastrophe of some 
 sort. Speechless and with long faces they crept into 
 
BAY MIDDLETON 145 
 
 tlie room striking matches to see what they had done. 
 They hghted candles and proceeded to examine the 
 room, finding a valuable carved or china ship, I do 
 not remember which, but worth some thousands of 
 pounds, had been hit, the lemon had smashed through 
 the glass case and embedded itself in the ship. Fear- 
 fully and stealthily as though they expected the 
 valuable ornament would arise and reproach them, 
 they examined the amount of damage done, most 
 thankfully coming to the conclusion that beyond the 
 glass case being shattered, nothing serious had re- 
 sulted. Fighting was suspended for that night. 
 
 At the early age of fifty-six poor Bay met his 
 death, on April 9th, 1892, while riding one of his own 
 horses, named *' Nightline,'' in the Midland Sportsman 
 Cup, run in connection with the then annual House 
 of Commons' Steeplechases, at Kineton, Warwickshire. 
 His horse was tired, and so I think was he, for 
 when '* Nightline " pecked, on landing over the 
 double, his rider seemed unable to save him. The 
 horse while endeavouring to recover himself threw 
 up his head, as a horse invariably will when in trouble, 
 and caught Captain Middleton on the chin with such 
 force as to break his neck on the spot. He died before 
 the assistance, which was practically at hand, had time 
 to reach him. His death came as a great shock to the 
 sporting public. 
 
 The Empress Elisabeth preferred Captain Middleton 
 to any one else as a pilot, having not only faith in his 
 judgments, but a great private regard for him as a 
 faithful and amusing friend. She always addressed 
 him as " Bay," and he greatly valued her friend- 
 ship. 
 
 Many people felt that with his death the hunting 
 field had been deprived of one of its greatest orna- 
 ments. 
 
 Prince Kinsky, or to give him his full name. Prince 
 Rodolphe Ferdinand Kinsky, was the son of Ferdi- 
 nand Kinsky and Marie, Princess of Liechtenstein, 
 is partly Austrian and partly Hungarian. He became 
 
146 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 very English while over here and almost as well known 
 as in his own country. Now I presume he is fighting 
 against us ! He was a sportsman, especially fond of 
 hunting and racing, being no mean performer in the 
 racing saddle. 
 
 It was while staying at Combermere with the Duke 
 of Westminster that he saw *' Zoedone '* for the first 
 time winning a local steeplechase. So impressed was 
 he with her appearance and form that he became her 
 owner before the sun set, and with her won the Grand 
 National in 1883, riding her himself. *' Zoedone " 
 won in a canter, proving the Prince, or Count as he 
 was at that time, by no means a bad judge of a good 
 horse when he saw it. Only ten ran in this race, the 
 smallest field for the Liverpool since the race was 
 transformed into a handicap in 1843, ''Vanguard's'' 
 year. The same small number ran, I am told, in 1841 
 when '' Charity " won. 
 
 The Prince was a pleased man that day at Liver- 
 pool. I am told he rode the race with much judgment, 
 and the little mare jumped splendidly from start to 
 finish, coming home well in advance of *' Black Prince." 
 
 At one time, indeed for years, the Prince was a 
 member of our English National Hunt Committee and 
 hon. member of the Jockey Club, holding at the same 
 time the much envied position of Chamberlain and Privy 
 Councillor to His Imperial and Royal Majesty the 
 Emperor of Austria-Hungary. 
 
 After Captain Middleton died Prince Kinsky wrote 
 an appreciation of him, which appeared in Gentlemen 
 Riders as follows : — 
 
 '' Yes, poor old Bay, he certainly was one of the 
 best friends of my younger days, and although much 
 older than myself liked me, I know, because he loved 
 a boy keen for the horse, keen for the chase, and keen 
 about riding races over a country. Another reason 
 why he took to me from the first was because he 
 thought I could hold my own in a bear fight, an 
 amusement which was in full swing when I first came 
 over to England. 
 
BAY MIDDLETON 147 
 
 *' He was the first man to give me an idea of what 
 straight riding to hounds really meant/' 
 
 I have been told by Prince Kinsky's admirers that 
 if he had his own choice he would sooner have drawn 
 his sword for England than for Austria and Germany — 
 I wonder ! 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE prince's button-hole 
 
 Lord Dupplin Joins the Life Guards — Racing — Pigeon Shooting — 
 Paris — Musical Parties — Marie Ha}^ — Prince of Wales in the 
 Champs Elysees — The Prince Asks a Question — My Reply — The 
 Prince Receives a Button-hole — 92nd Highlanders Return to 
 England — Return to India — Fire in a Rajah's Palace — The Taj 
 — Sir Alfred and Lady Lyall — Regimental Doctors. 
 
 THE first Earl of KinnouU was so created by 
 James I, described by Sully as the wisest 
 fool in Christendom, and by Macaulay as 
 ** made up of two men, a witty well-read scholar, who 
 wrote, disputed and harangued, and a nervous drivel- 
 ling idiot, who acted/' 
 
 All the menkind in the family have been staunch 
 supporters of the Crown, and each generation has 
 added its quota to the British Army. The fourth Earl 
 married Lady Blanche Somerset, daughter of the 
 seventh Duke of Beaufort, a most charming woman 
 for whom I often felt sorry as the wild spirits of some 
 of her sons caused her many anxious moments. 
 
 My elder brother at one time shared the same tutor 
 at Dupplin as Francis and Fitzroy Hay. I am not sure 
 if Lord Dupplin and my brother were studying there 
 at the same time. All the Hays were good-looking 
 cheery souls. The eldest, Viscount Dupplin, joined 
 the 1st Life Guards as cornet at the age of eighteen, 
 retiring five years later, as the Life Guards was too 
 expensive, when multiplied by the immensity of his 
 own extravagant tastes. I have not often met a man 
 so devoid of all sense of the value of money, even 
 when most desirous of retrenching and going '' canny '' 
 he had not the faintest idea how to set about it. After 
 
 148 
 
THE PRINCE'S BUTTON-HOLE 149 
 
 leaving the Guards he devoted his time to what he 
 would probably have described as enjoying himself, 
 though I doubt whether in his search for pleasure he 
 really found it. If so, it must have been transient. 
 Racing, pigeon shooting, bilhards and whist were his 
 chief pleasures. He owned some famous race-horses, 
 and at one time promised to become a distinguished 
 member of the Turf Club. *' Petrach " was un- 
 doubtedly his best horse, a good-looking animal, with 
 power and quality combined, and at his best I think, 
 as a three-year-old ; yet this fine horse did not bring 
 him much luck and his racing career was meteoric. 
 I am under the impression he told me that Colonel 
 Farquharson and Colonel Oliphant were part owners 
 with him in this horse, and if my memory does not 
 play me false they paid between ;fi2,ooo and £14,000 
 for him. 
 
 The chief races won by " Petrach " for Lord Dupplin 
 were the Two Thousand, Derby, and St. Leger. 
 
 Unfortunately there was trouble about the running, 
 and altogether things went wrong, more is the pity, 
 for Lord Dupplin had undeniable talent and an active 
 brain. If circumstances had obliged him to work for 
 his living, and he had owned a stern instead of one of 
 the most indulgent of fathers, he might have given 
 some good account of himself. 
 
 I always think regretfully of him as one of the 
 *' might-have-beens.'' " Petrach " was eventually 
 sold to the late Lord Lonsdale, and won the Ascot 
 Cup for him in 1877. 
 
 In 1871 Lord Dupplin married Lady Agnes Duff, 
 daughter of the fifth Earl of Fife. It was not altogether 
 a success, and in 1876 they were divorced, Lady Kin- 
 noull taking care of the fragile and delicate little 
 daughter Marie, now the Baroness Herbert von 
 Hindenburg, whose husband was Councillor of the Im- 
 perial German Embassy at Rome. She is a capable, 
 clever woman and has written several books. 
 
 Unfortunately neither science, literature nor politics 
 had any charm for " Duppy," as his friends called him, 
 
150 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 though some of his racing brethren dubbed him " Mol- 
 lie/' chiefly, I imagine, because he was at all times attired 
 in the very latest thing in fashions, even at times 
 creating fashions of his own : his scarlet tie, in par- 
 ticular, without which he would not have been 
 *' Duppy/' He also affected great -coats with sable 
 collars, very highly scented silk handkerchiefs and 
 so forth. We saw a lot of him at Hurlingham, where 
 he spent much time pigeon-shooting. He fancied 
 himself tremendously as a shot, but those who knew 
 his form better than I did, told me he was more a 
 fashion-plate than a shot. At whist, I believe, few could 
 beat him. He played remarkably well, but it is a game 
 that means late hours, and is not always lucrative. 
 
 Then came a time when Lord Dupplin decided that 
 Paris would be a better place for him to live in than 
 London, and it was at a large party in his beautiful 
 rooms in the Champs Elysees, that I last saw him, not 
 long before his death. At that time I was often in 
 Paris with relations of mine, and we frequently went 
 to his musical evenings. Being a brilliant musician 
 and pianist himself, he recognised talent in others, 
 gathering round him all the musical world within 
 reach. His technique was almost professional and as 
 a composer he was quite good, some of his work being 
 remarkable for an amateur. 
 
 Lord Dupplin had a large circle of friends and 
 acquaintances. These sporting people usually have 
 a larger following than the long-faced psalm-singers. 
 There were conflicting rumours as to the cause of his 
 death, but I know he had been very ill for a couple 
 of years before he died. Indeed at one of the parties 
 when we were present, in the midst of accompanying 
 a woman with a beautiful voice while she sang, '' Voila 
 ce que je suis sans toi,'' he was seized with violent 
 internal pain and had to be helped to his room and put 
 to bed by his valet. At intervals he suffered greatly, 
 and on March loth, 1886, died at the early age of 
 thirty-seven, having diligently sought happiness but 
 never found it. 
 
THE PRINCE'S BUTTON-HOLE 151 
 
 All the Hays are musical, inherited from their 
 mother's side of the family. Who is there that does 
 not know and like the '' Somerset " songs ? 
 
 Dear, beautiful, gay Paris, perhaps Lord Dupplin 
 was right in coming to you for his dwelling-place. 
 No city that I have ever seen can compare with your 
 brilliancy. Your Bois de Boulogne before the Grand 
 Prix is run, with its beautiful carriages, beautiful 
 women, frocks and chiffons ; family parties picnicking 
 in the Bois simply for the pleasure of seeing the 
 kaleidoscopic throng going to and from the races. 
 Then, oh then, the drive to Longchamps, but I only 
 dream, so let it be, for in our dreams we are always 
 young, strong and happy. 
 
 There is something infectious in the air of Paris. 
 We cast aside our gloom and poker-back dignity, 
 unbend, become bright and buoyant, like the inhabi- 
 tants of the city, and cease to take too seriously the 
 problems of life. Even the most solemn and righteous 
 churchwardens, the most prim and proper papas 
 become a little human under its influence. Some 
 have been known to give cheery little suppers to bright 
 little friends. Portly old gentlemen wink gentle sub- 
 dued little winks at one another, then return to their 
 families and take life once more au grand serieux, as 
 our friends over the water would say. Occasionally 
 in this Gay City one comes across those whose names 
 have been household words, now unremembered, and 
 anxious to remain so. 
 
 Marie Hay, Lord Dupplin's little daughter, used to 
 stay with him sometimes, but Paris, for any length of 
 time, was not considered good for her. I think his 
 most cherished possession was his beautiful-toned 
 piano, which stood in a large and lofty drawing-room 
 admirably adapted for music. King Edward VII, 
 always kind to those down on their luck, used often 
 to go and see him when in Paris. Was there ever so 
 natural and gracious a king ? Though at that time he 
 was still Prince of Wales. He came to a small musical 
 evening there once when we were among the guests, 
 
152 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 and his blending of dignity and bonhomie was charm- 
 ing. A few years later, while at a ball given by the 
 officers of one of the Highland regiments at Parkhurst 
 barracks in the Isle of Wight, I was standing in the 
 middle of the room between some of the dances talking 
 to partners, when someone touched me on the arm, 
 saying, '' Do you know you are standing with your 
 back to the Prince ? '' I turned hastily and made my 
 best curtsey and apologies, H.R.H. smiled and said 
 he quite understood. After one or two pleasant little 
 remarks about my programme being so full, and 
 should he see me at the meet of the hounds at the 
 barracks the following morning, he concluded by 
 saying, '' I don't think I have seen you at one of my 
 mother's drawing-rooms lately, have I ? '' This was 
 quite true, and I was rather put to it for an explana- 
 tion, so chose the true one, and said, '' No, Sir, I 
 cannot afford the frock just now.'' He was amused 
 and replied, '' Oh, but you should, you know, you 
 should." I think that dance was given by the Black 
 Watch, but cannot be certain ; it was one of the High- 
 land regiments. 
 
 I remember a pretty little incident, one August long 
 ago, at Cowes, between the Prince of Wales and little 
 Hilda Grant, daughter of Mr. Richard Grant, Secretary 
 of the Yacht Squadron. Miss '' Fonie " Cust and I were 
 having tea one day with Mr. Grant in his pretty little 
 house close to the Old Castle, now the home of the 
 Royal Yacht Squadron. I forget the name of this 
 little abode, but it was close to the sea and just 
 below *' Nubia," where the Godfrey Barings lived. 
 At the time of which I am writing, Mr. Grant was a 
 widower. While we were having tea the Prince of 
 Wales strolled in to see him and joined us. Presently 
 little Hilda Grant passed the window returning from 
 her walk, a dainty little maid of seven or eight summers. 
 Her father beckoned to her to come in. On entering 
 the room she looked round to see if she recognised any 
 of us, and advanced towards me as if to shake hands, 
 but suddenly turned round and going up to the 
 
THE PRINCE'S BUTTON-HOLE 153 
 
 Prince, made a sweet little curtsey. He shook hands 
 with her and asked, *' Do you know me. Who am 
 1 ? " With wide-open eyes riveted on his face, she 
 answered, *' Yes, you are Mr. Prince.'' He was 
 delighted with this self-composed and pretty little 
 maid and asked if he might have a flower out of the 
 tiny posy she carried in her hand. They were hanging 
 their heads and looking rather sad, but without a 
 vestige of awkwardness she spread her treasures on 
 the ground, chose a little yellow rosebud with a piece 
 of fern and handed them to him. He asked her to 
 place them in his button-hole for him while he sat on 
 a low chair within her reach and held out the lapel 
 of his coat to assist her. How they managed it I do 
 not know, but suddenly she clasped her hands together 
 and burst into a merry peal of laughter, for the head 
 of the rosebud had broken off and fallen on the floor 
 with a plop. She was anxious to go out and search for 
 a fresh one, but was told by her father that it was her 
 tea-time. 
 
 I congratulated my old friend Mr. Grant on his 
 daughter's manners and self-possession. He said she 
 saw so many people it prevented her becoming gauche 
 or shy. This little person is now the wife of Sir Charles 
 Hilton Seely, member for the Mansfield Division of 
 Notts. 
 
 Francis Hay, a younger brother of Lord Dupphn's, 
 was a popular and cheery soul. He had chosen the 
 navy as his profession. If I remember rightly I heard 
 him say something about having had a difference 
 with his commander, after which he became a captain 
 on a P. and O. He also died quite young, being only 
 thirty-one. I remember taking him and his brother 
 Fitzroy, the late Earl of Kinnoull, to a dance at Lupton, 
 near Torquay. I was spending the winter there, and 
 had been asked by the late Sir Bernard and Lady 
 Samuelson to take a party of young people to their 
 dance. Both Francis and Fitzroy were splendid 
 dancers and fond of it. They enjoyed themselves so 
 much on this occasion that I could not persuade them 
 
154 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 to come away. I think they bribed the band to play 
 extras for them and kept begging me to stop, pleading 
 each time for just one more. I could see plainly that 
 our tired host and hostess wished to go to bed so 
 bade them good night and left my two young friends 
 to come home the best way they could. They came 
 back to Torquay with the band, in the rosy hues of 
 early dawn. 
 
 Torquay was very bright that winter ; dinners, 
 dances, concerts, and theatricals following one another 
 in quick succession. 
 
 I remember getting a little mixed with my invita- 
 tions, having mislaid one or two cards, amongst them 
 one from the Wilsons of Rigmaden Park, who were 
 spending the winter at Lunedale, Torquay. I felt sure 
 I remembered the date, so drove up to their door in 
 one of my best Sunday-go-to-meeting frocks, only to 
 find a forbidding darkness about the house and 
 grounds which struck me as strange. What struck me 
 as still more strange was the long time I waited before 
 the door was answered. 
 
 At last the footman arrived, followed shortly by 
 the butler with big owl-like eyes but perfect manners. 
 I suggested that I had been asked to dinner, the foot- 
 man looked frightened and backed into the hall. The 
 butler then came forward and explained that the 
 dinner was on the morrow. I was full of apology for 
 having so stupidly made a mistake and was about 
 to depart when Mr. Christopher Wilson, the son, 
 came to the door and said his people were dining out 
 and he was all alone and having a mutton chop, 
 otherwise he would have asked me to come in and 
 share it. We laughed over my silly mistake and I 
 returned home, leaving Mr. Wilson to finish his dinner 
 in peace. 
 
 At last in 1881 came the news that the 92nd High- 
 landers were coming home. My husband broke it 
 gently to me that I must not expect to see them land 
 at Southampton looking very spick and span, as many 
 of them had little left after three years^f campaigning 
 
THE PRINCE'S BUTTON-HOLE 155^ 
 
 except spats and umbrellas, which is what they pro- 
 posed landing in. All those at home in any way con- 
 nected with the regiment went to stay at Southampton 
 to welcome it. The Duke of Richmond and Gordon 
 addressed them as soon as they left the ship, also 
 Major White, the latter saying he wished he had been 
 with them in South Africa, but could not be spared 
 from his staff appointment. 
 
 We were a large party at the chief hotel near the 
 landing-stage, and all were merry and bright. 
 
 Soon after the return of the regiment my husband 
 exchanged into the 78th Seaforth Highlanders stationed 
 at Lucknow in India, so back we went to a station 
 within a few miles of Sitapur, the latter, however, 
 being a village while Lucknow was an historic city. 
 
 Our voyage out was not eventful. We were rather 
 a dull party on board, but that is not astonishing 
 considering the month was September, about the 
 hottest time in the whole year in the Red Sea. At 
 Suez as usual we met a number of, people we knew. 
 I cannot remember passing Suez without meeting 
 people from all parts of the earth in the hotel court- 
 yard. Whom does one not meet out there ? Military 
 big-wigs, who give the impression the whole place 
 belongs to them, statesmen, who explain and are 
 apologetic for being there, persons of various denomina- 
 tions, regarding each other with jackdaw eyes of suspic- 
 ion, brides and bridegrooms, adventurers, pale-faced and 
 wistful little children on their way home, and lusty- voiced 
 children on their way out. This is the half-way house 
 where the Northern and Western cold aloofness begins 
 to thaw. A man from home may, while looking with 
 eyes of interrogative doubt, answer some kindly meant 
 sociability from an Anglo-Indian or traveller from the 
 south with a lukewarm reply. By the time that 
 superior man reaches Bombay he will grasp the hand 
 in unfeigned delight of any one of any nationality 
 who will speak to him in accents kind and mild. 
 
 Then there is the opposite stream of good people 
 returning from the East. Commissioners and their 
 
156 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 wives, statesmen, military doctors, lawyers from Bom- 
 bay who have made untold sums pleading cases for 
 rich rajahs, and many others who have been holding 
 positions of importance, carrying their heads high in 
 consequence. At Suez, a little of the mantle of their 
 greatness falls from them ; the cosmopolitan crowd 
 is even so ignorant as not to recognise them. Visions 
 of home arise where they will be one of the crowd, 
 jostled here and there and of no particular importance. 
 Nobody knows they have arrived at Suez, and nobody 
 would care if they had not. 
 
 Many times I have entertained myself watching 
 people in this well-run hotel at Suez, under the manage- 
 ment of the P. and O. Company, where Greek meets 
 Greek, yet neither feeling quite assured of his position. 
 It is quite diverting. 
 
 I missed my little friend, Monsieur Lesseps, on the 
 Canal. He was away with the mosquitoes at Panama. 
 
 Lucknow is one of the most delightful stations in 
 India. It is picturesque, with lovely gardens and big 
 shady trees, and it has also a large mixed society, pre- 
 venting any chance of the weariness and petty quarrels 
 which often arise in a smaller station. A big bungalow 
 was hired for us by an old friend of my husband's, the 
 Rev. J. W. Adams, v.c. In India everybody likes as 
 many letters of the alphabet after their name as 
 possible, though the Padre, bless him, would not have 
 minded if they had been forgotten. 
 
 We managed to make the large barn-like buildings 
 look fairly comfortable with treasures brought from 
 home, but which the fish-insects and white ants treat 
 with little respect. 
 
 I had very good servants in India, and strange as 
 it may seem, when we arrived at Bombay several who 
 had been in our service while at Sitapur presented 
 themselves at our hotel asking to be re-engaged. 
 How they knew we were returning to India I have 
 no idea. Other people have told me this has hap- 
 pened to them in exactly the same way. 
 
 My head servant, Abdul, a young man who spoke 
 
THE PRINCE'S BUTTON-HOLE 157 
 
 very fair English, was new. He was responsible for 
 the behaviour of the rest, and though I understand 
 he waxed rich while in our service, would not allow 
 anybody else to do so beyond a certain limit. I only 
 had two differences of opinion with this little man. 
 One happened thus. I thought both the oil for the 
 lamps and also the tea were going too quickly. Abdul 
 not only looked after the rest of the establishment 
 but constituted himself my special guardian, standing 
 always near my chair or sitting outside the room where 
 I might happen to be, held my keys and looked after 
 the stores and provisions generally. 
 
 When I expressed my opinion about the amount 
 of oil and tea being used, with a deep salaam he bowed 
 and placed the keys beside me on my writing-table, 
 requesting me to relieve my humble servant of the 
 responsibility by giving out the stores myself. I 
 replied, " Very good, so I will,'' finding to my infinite 
 dismay that I could make neither of the commodities 
 in question go nearly as far as my '' humble servant " 
 had done, so I put a brave face on it and gave back the 
 keys, saying I could not make the things last any 
 longer than he, Abdul, had done. The little man was 
 wreathed in smiles and, bowing low, took the keys 
 and disappeared. The fact was, I suppose, that either 
 they had another key or else some dodge by which they 
 got in, perhaps they took out some of the wood from the 
 big doors of the store cupboard, but that I do not know. 
 All I can vouch for was that the things went very fast, 
 but faster when I gave them out than when Abdul did. 
 
 The other occasion, when our relations were strained, 
 was in connection with my English maid, whom I had 
 taken out with me. The servants were very jealous 
 and did their utmost to make me dissatisfied with and 
 distrustful of her. I think she kept her eye on the 
 dessert and such-like dainty comestibles, which was 
 thwarting and annoying. 
 
 After a variety of complaints and suggestions that 
 she was not honest, there came a climax one day when 
 I had passed a sleepless night and was feeling irritable. 
 
158 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 My bearer, Abdul, came to me saying he wished to 
 prove how dishonest my EngUsh servant was, and 
 would I come with him and demand to see what was 
 in one of her boxes. I replied '' Certainly/' and went 
 to my maid's room. It was rather awkward for me, 
 but she was a very good girl as far as her work was 
 concerned, and very honest. So I explained what 
 the servants had been saying and that, of course, it 
 was false, but the best way to put an end to the 
 gossip would be for her to open her box and make the 
 natives ashamed of themselves, as three of them had 
 now appeared with tales of her misdoings. The poor 
 girl. Smith by name, opened her box at once with a 
 key from her pocket, and there, lying just on top, 
 were the very things my servants had accused her of 
 having stolen, namely, some silk night garments and 
 other things of that nature. She first turned very 
 white then burst out laughing. I could see plainly it 
 was a got-up case by the bearer and his brethren, who 
 had arranged this little surprise. So I turned angrily 
 on them and told Abdul he, or some one known to him, 
 had done this thing, and if I found any repetition of 
 such disgraceful conduct I should part with them all 
 and take so much off their wages by way of a fine, 
 and there the matter ended. 
 
 I have every reason to be grateful to my Indian 
 servants. They were very attentive and kind to me 
 and more honest than very many English ones that 
 I have met with. While in sickness or sorrow they 
 excel in patient kindness. 
 
 The English of some of the native servants is amus- 
 ing. When a servant comes to ask for employment he 
 presents you with a variety of notes, or '' chits," as 
 they are called out there. These are, or purport to be, 
 characters from their former employers. While reading 
 them the owner keeps up a running accompaniment, 
 explaining, *' Me Christian ! Mem-sahib, me drink 
 brandysh (brandy), eaty meats and swear like the 
 Captain Sahib." I have been told a rather funny 
 story which I believe is quite true. 
 
THE PRINCE'S BUTTON-HOLE 159 
 
 A servant had been engaged and taken up-country. 
 He soon asked for leave to go and bury his wife, im- 
 ploring his master to advance him some money for 
 the funeral expenses, saying, ** Please give some 
 money quick as she will not kip ! '' 
 
 A merry subaltern I once knew, who is now a big 
 official, so I dare not give his name in connection with 
 this story, when first he joined his regiment in India, 
 took delight in teaching his young bearer English 
 sentences and little *' mots," which of course the 
 native did not understand. This was all very well 
 and quite funny, until Sir Frederick Haines, then 
 Commander-in-Chief, riding past the bungalow one 
 day asked the bearer if his master was at home, and 
 received in reply, '* Not for Jo.'' 
 
 Being anxious to see the Taj Mahal at Agra, a friend 
 who knew the Rajah owning the palace there asked 
 him if he would lend it to me while staying in that 
 city. He very kindly placed it at my disposal, being 
 elsewhere himself at the time. The pleasure of this 
 visit was much spoilt by what might have been an 
 awkwardness of some importance. 
 
 My maid, wishing to air the mattresses, without 
 which none travel in India, stood them up in front of 
 a fire she had lighted in a spacious apartment allotted 
 to her, and left them while she unpacked. On return- 
 ing she found one had fallen into the fire and was 
 blazing merrily, the whole room and those adjoining 
 being enveloped in smoke. Fortunately I had not 
 left the palace, as we wished to see the Taj by moon- 
 light, so I dashed out of my room and besought the 
 servants to call the Bhistis (water-carriers) to put it 
 out. I was informed they were not on the premises 
 but would be sent for. I then implored our soldier 
 guards marching up and down by the entrance to 
 come and put out the fire, but they said they dare not 
 leave their posts for all the fires in the world. Mean- 
 while I expected the whole palace to be burnt. A nice 
 little return for His Highness's hospitality ! 
 
 On my return, after galloping about seeking assist- 
 
i6o MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 ance, my maid informed me the Bhistis had arrived 
 and thrown the mattresses outside, but that not much 
 damage had been done to the building, which was 
 indeed fortunate as the place looked as if it would 
 burn very easily. 
 
 The next thing was to break the news to our friend 
 who had borrowed the palace for us, and ask him to 
 convey our profound apologies, and then to try to 
 forget all about it. But I shall always remember the 
 guards' faces when I told them the palace was on 
 fire. I could plainly see they thought it was a plot 
 on our part. They jabbered to one another and sent 
 messengers in every direction except that of the fire. 
 . I had not properly recovered from my shock when 
 we drove out to the marble Taj that night, but soon 
 forgot all my anxieties in wonderment. This dazzlingly 
 beautiful building has often been both photographed 
 and described, but neither conveys a true impression 
 of the place ; for it is not entirely the structural beauty 
 of the building that is so arresting : the cool white 
 marble, the jewelled screen, the four minarets ; it is 
 the atmosphere and many whispers that strike you 
 dumb. First there is the influence of the wondrous 
 moon, not like even our glorious harvest moon, but 
 the unchallengeable moon of the East, that lures you 
 from your bed speaking of things that know not 
 words, the something that is neither prayer nor praise, 
 but akin to both. Then that profound silence, those 
 mystic shadows, the spirit that dwells around that 
 tomb, telling of the mighty, soulful love that could 
 not rest until it had found expression in the erection 
 of the most beautiful tomb Shah Jehan could con- 
 ceive as a memorial to his supreme love. 
 
 I have stood in awed silence by that jewel-studded 
 screen, and at the top of the steps leading down to the 
 Taj, and felt a little tremble creep into my hands and 
 heart from emotion as I gazed my fill at the blue- 
 black sky, studded, as it were, with the souls of those 
 who have gone. The reflection of the moon — Taj — sky 
 — and stars, in the ornamental water lying so still and 
 
THE PRINCE'S BUTTON-HOLE i6i 
 
 calm, carried away far, far into the world of faith and 
 love that constrained Shah Jehan to commemorate in 
 such a manner, the chief love of his life. The soul can 
 never be satisfied with anything lower than itself, and 
 who can fathom the depths of that man's feelings ? 
 It has always seemed to me he reached the borders 
 of the Great Beyond where only love can dwell. 
 
 There is a certain mystery about the East and its 
 people, an undefinable something that we seem to get 
 near but are unable to touch ; their faiths are to the 
 individual very real, and nothing can move them. 
 They are not blown about by blasts of vain doctrines 
 as are the people of the West. The Mahometans at 
 their devotions are an impressive sight, their religious 
 fervour, their attitudes of lowly and devout supplica- 
 tion are moving and unequalled. 
 
 Lucknow is written large across my brain. I am not 
 sure it is not engraved upon my heart, not entirely 
 because I loved it dearly, or because I was unhappy 
 there. I think it was because while there I contrived 
 in about twelve months to live through a whole life- 
 time of feelings and experiences, tasting joy, sorrow, 
 suffering, excitement, friendship, disillusions, and for 
 ever staring into the open graves of the exiles who 
 have been with us in the morning, gone by night, and 
 buried next day. I seemed to come in touch with 
 almost every phase of human nature and emotion. 
 
 Gaiety, forced gaiety, is the order of the day in 
 India. This must be so, for it is the land of partings, 
 and none of us wish to wear our hearts on our sleeves. 
 We have no business to burden other people with our 
 sorrows, each has enough of his own. While all are 
 kind and friendly to one another, equal exiles in a 
 foreign land, few are really intimate. They meet 
 daily perhaps, are friendly to one another, but the 
 innermost being of their nearest and best-known 
 neighbours is a closed book. We know not and care 
 not who they are, or whence they came, whether 
 married, single, rich or poor, but value them according 
 to the way they help us to pass the time and forget. 
 
i62 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 I had the bad luck one morning in the cold weather 
 to have a nasty fall. We had been out, my husband 
 and I, in the early dawn, with the hounds, but had 
 not found a jackal who would play the game and go 
 away in a sporting manner, consequently when we 
 returned to our bungalow the ponies were still jumping 
 out of their skins, so my husband suggested we should 
 put them over the jumps in our compound, which were 
 there for the purpose of schooling ponies. 
 
 Whether the hght was bad or what happened I do 
 not know, but my mount turned a complete somer- 
 sault with me through the middle of a mud wall. He 
 was one of the cleverest animals we had in the stable 
 and had been over the same jump many times. Poor 
 little beast ; he got up so carefully to avoid treading 
 on me and fortunately I kept the reins. I heard my 
 lord say, '* My God, she's broken her neck this time ! '' 
 But I had done nothing of the kind, though my collar- 
 bone was broken and I was rather badly hurt by the 
 saddle. In consequence I was very ill and laid up a 
 long time. It was then I had my first experience of 
 regimental doctors, and from the bottom of my heart 
 pitied the soldiers and their wives left to their tender 
 mercies. After this accident the military doctor 
 who came to give an anaesthetic to me fell into a pro- 
 found slumber of so alcoholic a nature that no one 
 could wake him and another had to be fetched. Lady 
 Lyall used to be very good to me and sit with me when 
 the rest of the world and their wives were dancing, 
 playing tennis and listening to the band. Her husband 
 being at that time Lieut. -Governor of the North- West 
 Provinces and Chief Commissioner of Oude. Both 
 Sir Alfred and his wife were very kind to me. The 
 former was an emotional man, fond of music and 
 poetry. Indeed, he was no mean poet himself. He 
 gave me the impression of being one of the few men 
 holding appointments in India who were really in- 
 terested, heart and soul, in her people. He did much 
 valuable work in India, especially as Foreign Secretary 
 to the Government during the time of the Afghan War. 
 
THE PRINCESS BUTTON-HOLE 163 
 
 In 1880 Lord Ripon sent his name up for the honour 
 of a Knighthood of the Bath, expressing it as his 
 opinion Mr. Ly all's invaluable services were deserving 
 of it. There appears to have been some little demur 
 about conferring the Knighthood, but Lord Ripon, 
 at all times most faithful to those who worked with 
 him, wrote home to Lord Hartington, saying he should 
 be deeply hurt and disappointed if Mr. Lyall's work 
 was not acknowledged and that he would feel ** utterly 
 ashamed " to accept any thanks himself unless the 
 man who had really deserved praise much more than 
 he did received some suitable acknowledgment. This 
 letter decided the matter and Mr. Lyall was created 
 K.C.B. 
 
 Sir Alfred's artistic temperament was responsible 
 for his restlessness and little discontents, he being one 
 of the most highly cultured and imaginative of men I 
 met in India. Always striving after something, he 
 knew not quite what, a discontent or shall I say dis- 
 satisfaction with himself and his work, combined with 
 a distinct knowledge of his own power, was the cause 
 of that peculiar slackness and depression so often 
 noticeable in connection with brilliant brains. Their 
 minds soar to heights from which their bodies and the 
 conditions of life hold them back, for which words 
 have not yet been coined, which in expression give 
 peace to the soul. 
 
 He prophesied what has come true, namely, that 
 the civilisation we have been at such pains to instil 
 into the people of India has not been an unmixed 
 blessing to them, having resulted, as he said it would, 
 in the higher classes leaving their own country for 
 Paris and London, where they find pleasure and spend 
 money. Nevertheless he was distinctly in sympathy 
 with the natives. 
 
 Asiatics look like simple trusting children and we 
 all begin our lives in India feeling rather sorry for the 
 natives, and think perhaps they should be allowed 
 some sort of self-government, but after a while change 
 our minds as we see what a long time it must be before 
 
i64 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 they would reap any benefit either for themselves or 
 for others. 
 
 Lord Tennyson thought some of Sir Alfred's verses 
 charming, and congratulated him on them, but the 
 author of them thought they were only fit for a maga- 
 zine. He was a dreamer and loved his books. Lady 
 Lyall was one of the most unselfish women I ever 
 met. With gratitude I remember her goodness to me 
 in India. 
 
 In those days it was a terrible thing to be ill out 
 there, as there were no proper nurses to be had. 
 Soldiers' wives were pressed into the service, and I was 
 unlucky in those sent to me. One not only helped 
 herself to many of my belongings, but had an insatiable 
 appetite. My bearer would stagger into the woman's 
 room, next to mine, with a tray laden with fish, curry, 
 eggs, toast, and little what-nots. When the decks 
 were cleared, she came in to me bursting and breath- 
 less, saying she was not a good breakfast eater, but 
 she had managed to " bolt an egg." The doctors also 
 were a holy terror. I was much impressed with some 
 on board ship with me on one of my voyages. They 
 were en route for Alexandria after the bombardment, 
 and the senior officer boasted to me one evening that 
 he had not opened a medical book for twelve years, 
 and laughed at having to begin again with such work 
 as lay before him. I was so horrified at his callousness 
 I for the moment forgot Talleyrand's advice that 
 speech was meant as a cloak for one's real feelings, 
 and retorted, '' I would be ashamed to say so if I 
 were you ! " 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 SIR DONALD STEWART 
 
 An Indian Hot Weather — Brain-fever Birds — Hunting the Jackal — 
 In the Hospitals — Church Services under Punkahs — A Sunset 
 Procession — Sir Donald Stewart — Carries His Own Tail — Lady 
 Stewart's Adventures — Young Sir Donald — In America — Sells 
 Ducks and Chickens — As Police Officer — Commissioner in Kumassi 
 — Sir Claude de Crespigny Stays with Him — Captain Sir Donald 
 Stewart's Death. 
 
 OUR day minds and our night minds are quite 
 different things, that is the conclusion I 
 came to during my first hot weather in India. 
 Happenings of the day that have troubled us not at 
 all assume gigantic proportions at night, while things 
 that have troubled us during the day become intoler- 
 able during a sleepless night, when that blessed 
 spiritual regeneration of sleep is denied us. 
 
 The hot weather takes a fiendish delight in making 
 us sleepy but refusing us sleep. '* The night time of the 
 Body is the day time of the soul," when we can sleep, 
 for then we pass into another world and leave our 
 earthly bodies for a tiny space — a veil is drawn over 
 our sorrows and pains, giving us strength to bear our 
 burdens. 
 
 An Indian day is full and varied, providing much 
 food for thought during sleepless nights when an iron 
 band seems to be tightening and tightening round our 
 heads, and the brain-fever bird outside mocks us with 
 its ascending vocal scale until it reaches the harsh, 
 shrill top note of its ambition and then begins again. 
 I have been told that when this bird reaches the 
 desired high note it falls backwards off its perch, but 
 this must surely be a traveller's tale. I wish they did 
 fall off their perch, they might then be a little longer 
 before starting the same wearisome notes over and 
 
 165 
 
i66 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 over again. You determine you will not listen, but 
 find yourself waiting for each note and following the 
 unmusical cadences. The days seem packed with 
 tragedy and comedy treading quickly on each other's 
 heels, each day seemingly alike yet all so different. 
 The following account of one day out of my life in the 
 land of regrets is typical of many. It was during the 
 cold weather, and I had unfortunately acquired the 
 habit of sleeplessness, a legacy from the long hot 
 nights, and was thankful when in the grey dawn I 
 heard the far-away cry in the City of Lucknow calling 
 the faithful to prayer. This was followed quickly by 
 the bearer bringing my early tea, after which I hurried 
 into my habit and rode away some three miles to a 
 meet of the newly imported fox-hounds, who still 
 suffered a little from the indignity of being requested 
 to hunt jackal. During these early morning gallops 
 I could never bring myself to ride regardless over the 
 Indian crops. It seemed to me so selfish of men and 
 women only seeking sport and pleasure to ride ruth- 
 lessly over the land where some poor patient natives 
 had toiled single-handed, with one miserable tool or 
 hand instrument, to render fruitful their plots of land 
 close to their village homes. This they did by the 
 construction of endless little irrigation tunnels over 
 which it was impossible to ride without making 
 leakages and trampling down the young grain. The 
 difference between the way riders have to respect the 
 farmers' crops in English hunting countries, and the 
 way they gallop over Indian fields with utter callous- 
 ness is a matter the authorities in India might well 
 bestir themselves to put down. 
 
 About 8 o'clock the sun became too hot for pleasure 
 or scent, and I returned to bathe, dress and breakfast. 
 My good man having returned from his work and 
 parade we were able to breakfast together, after which 
 I interviewed the khandsama (cook), reduced the 
 total of his previous day's supposed expenditure on his 
 catering by about half, which left him a good margin 
 of profit and with which he always appeared content. 
 
SIR DONALD STEWART 167 
 
 I was then at liberty to walk across to the regimental 
 hospitals under the protection of a big sun umbrella, 
 dirt colour outside and green within. 
 
 The sick men, women and children look forward to 
 a visit and I always made a point of putting on some 
 bright colours and dressing nicely for these visits, 
 knowing how a touch of colour and a dainty toilet 
 benefit the patients ; they feel worlds better and 
 brighter after a visit from someone in gay garments 
 rather than in dull or black, although they may not be 
 able to locate exactly the reason. I have experienced 
 the feeling when I have been ill so know all about it. 
 
 After an hour or two in those hospitals I have often 
 seen, heard and felt enough to fill a three-volumed 
 novel and still have some material to spare. On the 
 day that is present in my mind, I entered the large, 
 bare, lonesome-looking barrack building bearing the 
 dignified title of Women's Hospital. The beds stood 
 in rows, backs to the wall, with a small rough table 
 beside each. The windows were high up in the walls 
 so that no patient could see out. 
 
 The first bed I came to was occupied by quite a 
 grand lady, a sergeant's wife with rings on her fingers 
 and much pomatumed hair, attired in a gaudy dressing- 
 jacket. This invalid was sitting up, feeling quite 
 perky and voluble. She at once gave me to understand 
 hospital was no place for her and she was not there 
 because she could not afford to stay in her own house, 
 or because she was very ill, but because the regiment 
 had a silly rule obliging all who were ill or about to 
 increase the population being removed to this place ; 
 no one was allowed to be ill in quarters. Of course 
 she had brought her own servant with her, the ayah 
 had in fact just finished dressing her hair. The 
 hospital food she could not touch, but her husband 
 sent nice things over to her every day. It may appear 
 as if this patient would not want to be visited, yet her 
 pleasure was plainly visible, she loved explaining 
 about her exalted position and showing off her pretty 
 things. I explained to her a new pattern for knitting 
 
i68 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 her baby's socks and, leaving her quite happy, moved on 
 to the next bed where lay what had once been a girl ; 
 she was now sixteen years of age and had been married 
 twelve months to a private in the regiment, her father 
 being in the Artillery at the other side of the station. 
 Girls mature quickly in India. This child had pre- 
 sented her husband with twins the day before my 
 visit, the poor little miseries were being washed by a 
 kindly soldier's wife in a tin basin resting on the stone 
 carpetless floor at her feet close to the mother's bed. 
 I looked from the bed to the babies and back from 
 the babies to the bed. Who would go first ? The poor 
 blue pinched wee humanities wailing piteously, or 
 the little mother crying silent tears in her weakness 
 at being unable to do anything for her long-looked-for 
 treasures whose plaintive cries tortured her. Here 
 was one of those cases that always troubled me. 
 I could not sit by her and utter words of deception 
 and promise of speedy recovery, it would have been 
 too cruel ; neither did I like to talk to her of the Great 
 White Day that was to be hers so soon, for she gave 
 me no opening, never asking if I thought she was 
 going to get better as many do when very ill, or 
 enquiring what I thought of her babies. So while 
 feeling a horrid moral coward, knowing she had not 
 long to live and wondering if she realised it, I spoke of 
 the cold draughty room so unsuitable for the toilet of 
 newly born infants, and promised to send a stove by 
 which their little bodies and clothes could be warmed. 
 As I left the hospital after visiting a variety of other 
 patients, I turned to look once more at the child-wife ; 
 her eyes were fixed upon me. I smiled back at her and 
 I thought I saw the faintest flicker of a smile in return. 
 Then came the men's hospital. Here some were 
 well enough to be amused and cheered by the latest 
 news from outside, how the adjutant's horse had run 
 away with him on parade, the latest pranks of our 
 pet monkey, etc. They in turn told me funny tales 
 which I treasured up in my memory to recount to 
 other sick soldiers another day. 
 
SIR DONALD STEWART 169 
 
 During my journey down the hospital from bed to 
 bed I was quite as often entertained by my friends as 
 they were by me. I reserved my last visit for a bed 
 at the end of a building, where I knew I should find a 
 very sick man. He had been in that quiet corner for 
 many days, but would not be there much longer. 
 I asked him if he would not be glad when all his 
 weariness, pains and disappointments were over. He 
 replied, ** I should like to have lived a little longer.'' 
 Many have expressed that same wish to me when they 
 have been dying and I have wondered not once but 
 many times that it should be so. In a weak subdued 
 voice he talked of the old folk at home. He feared 
 they would '' greet " when he was gone. I took his 
 hand between mine and held it while we spoke of 
 things seen and unseen, then I gently stroked back his 
 hair from off his cold damp forehead. I have known 
 this simple little act bring untold comfort to many 
 lonely men and women far from all who love them, 
 waiting on the shore for the good ship Redemption. 
 
 One rough diamond with tears in his eyes told me 
 he felt '' less lonely and nervous like " after my taking 
 his hand, it reminded him of home and mother ; and 
 what a simple little thing — the human touch to ease 
 the passing of a soul. I glanced at the card hanging 
 above the sick man's bed on which was inscribed his 
 name, his medicine and the food allowed him. Milk 
 and boiled chicken were mentioned as desirable 
 nourishing dainties. The patient dozed, so glancing 
 round my eyes travelled to the small table by the bed 
 on which various things had been spilt. A tumbler 
 had some milk in the bottom, various previous allow- 
 ances had left dried rings inside the glass, and tear- 
 stains outside. On an enamel plate sprawled the 
 grey-blue leg of a boiled chicken, no attempt had been 
 made to press it into comely form, it lay as though in 
 protest against its unshapely nakedness and lack' of 
 modest white drapery. Small wonder it remained on 
 the plate unheeded until thrown outside by the 
 hospital orderly for the crows to quarrel over. 
 
170 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 I returned to our bungalow to write the letters I had 
 promised to send for my sick friends of the morning, 
 and to dress for a luncheon-party we were giving. 
 Another dress and another smile were necessary now, 
 all sad thoughts must be banished, I must be bright, 
 laugh, joke and take part in the would-be gaiety with 
 which we deceive and lull ourselves into thinking we 
 are happy and have an abiding city in the best of all 
 possible worlds. At luncheon, riddles are asked, 
 scandals related, if you will allow them at your table, 
 meetings arranged, dances promised to partners at 
 coming balls, which, by the way, is a most repre- 
 hensible practice in the East, it being by no means 
 uncommon for a woman to enter a ballroom with her 
 programme full, which is not quite fair in a land where 
 men predominate. 
 
 Our luncheon lasted a long time, after which more 
 people came to call. I talked platitudes for an hour 
 or more, gave them tea and coffee. And at sunset the 
 cosmopolitan crowd buzzed off to watch polo, listen 
 to the band, or read the papers in the Chatter Manzil, 
 once the King of Oudh's palace, now a club and 
 general rendezvous. All were gone, and I was alone 
 once more. A tempting chair in the verandah made me 
 rest awhile and dream a tiny dream or two, when 
 suddenly I was roused from my reverie by the '' Dead 
 March in Saul '' and the usual evening procession 
 coming down the Mall from the Church, headed by a 
 gun-carriage covered with the Union Jack on which 
 lay a feather bonnet and sword. 
 
 The music ceased suddenly, and I was glad, then the 
 the sad, sad wail of the pipes broke upon the stillness of 
 the coming night, and I wanted to run away somewhere, 
 far from everybody and everything and spend the rest 
 of my life in prayer for the souls of those lonely bodies 
 borne in this long procession. After the pipers came 
 another and yet another gun-carriage bearing its 
 silent draped freight, followed by a charger being led 
 with empty saddle and long boots reversed in the 
 stirrups, then the bomb, bomb of the '' March in Saul " 
 
SIR DONALD STEWART 171 
 
 again began its requiem. At last all have passed on 
 their way to the cemetery with high walls so that no 
 jackal may wander into God's Acre and disturb the 
 sleepers. 
 
 Once when I was very ill in bed for some time, from 
 a horse having rolled over me during my sojourn in 
 Lucknow, I used to dread that sunset procession. The 
 cholera was rampant at one time and the processions 
 seemed unending. Try as we may to keep from 
 thinking in India we cannot escape from our thoughts 
 during sleepless nights when all our doubts and fears 
 descend upon us in a magnified form and we have to 
 hold tight on to our faith lest we lose it altogether and 
 abandon ourselves to fatalism. 
 
 After the funeral processions on the day I am 
 endeavouring to describe, I drove down to the club 
 with my husband to read the papers and talk to my 
 friends. I gazed in wonder at the leafless cotton trees 
 beside the Mall, yesterday brown and bare, to-day a 
 blaze of short-lived scarlet flowers, something between 
 a water-lily and a large convolvulus, the ground a 
 crimson carpet of fallen blossoms. A dinner-party and 
 a dance brought this day to an end. Some of the same 
 band who played the solemn march in the afternoon 
 made merry music to which we danced. Then came 
 bed and prayers for sleep and oblivion for a space. 
 
 I wrote to Calcutta for a portable oil-stove for the 
 comfort of the hospital patients, but it arrived too 
 late to benefit the twins or their mother, for they 
 joined the sad procession at sundown the following 
 evening. 
 
 That stove was the occasion of harsh words between 
 myself and the chief medical officer, for he turned it 
 out of the hospital on to the verandah, saying, if I 
 made *' the hospital too comfortable it would always 
 be full,'' so on the verandah it remained for some time 
 until one day a bad case which interested the profes- 
 sion arrived in hospital, and somehow the stove crept 
 in and there it remained. 
 
 During the hot weather every movement was an 
 
172 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 exertion, but I struggled valiantly to church with the 
 heat registering 102° in the shade of our verandah. 
 To EngHsh minds the service was a novel one. The 
 Padre read the lessons while fanning himself with a 
 palm leaf, a therm-antidote whirled and whizzed 
 about in a vain endeavour to keep us cool. A per- 
 spiring crowd of men chiefly from the loth Hussars 
 acted as choir and finding voice in spite of the heat. 
 The Padre in the pulpit with his medals and Victoria 
 Cross pinned on outside his surplice. Unprotestingly 
 we watched the toads and frogs lop up the aisle to the 
 damp near the therm-antidote, the punkahs swinging 
 backwards and forwards unceasingly. The loth 
 Hussars sat on the opposite side of the aisle to the 
 Seaforths, and when we all stood up to sing hymns it 
 amused me in a languid sort of way to watch some of 
 the tall men like Lord Airlie, Colonel Wood and 
 Captain Brabazon having their hair swept backwards 
 and forwards by the flapping of the punkahs. How it 
 must have worried them, for I think they all prided 
 themselves on their smart and well-groomed appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Colonel West Ridgeway, Under-Secretary to the 
 Government of India about this time, and his wife 
 were enjoying the beautiful climate of the hills, 
 moving from Calcutta to Simla with the Viceregal 
 party. They had very kindly asked me to stay with 
 them for a while to escape the rest of the hot weather. 
 My husband, who could only get short leave, preferred 
 going to Naini Tal, being nearer for him than journey- 
 ing to Simla. 
 
 It was very blessed to breathe fresh air again and 
 there were a goodly crowd of interesting people up 
 among the rhododendron-clad hills. The Ripons 
 had no young people of their own but there were 
 generally a number of friends staying with them. 
 
 The Commander-in-Chief, Sir Donald Stewart, his 
 wife and family were bright and cheery. There was a 
 large party of them, all good-looking and always ready 
 to join in any form of amusement. 
 
SIR DONALD STEWART 173 
 
 Sir Donald was a wonderful instance of what can be 
 done with perseverance and determination, minus 
 push and self-advertisement. He said that at the age 
 of sixteen he joined a native regiment with nothing 
 but his pay and his sword, yet when I first knew him, 
 he was Commander-in-Chief with a family of good- 
 looking sons and daughters. 
 
 Modesty was one of his chief characteristics, some 
 of his friends thought him too diffident. Lord Ripon 
 told me he considered him one of the most modest 
 and unselfish of men. How many would have given 
 the Command of the March from Kabul to Kanda- 
 har to another when in a position and anxious to 
 undertake it themselves ? 
 
 My husband in his letters from Afghanistan also told 
 me it was quite touching the way Sir Donald effaced 
 his own desires for the advancement of his old friend 
 Sir Frederick Roberts, adding, ** He has gone out of 
 his way to avoid putting little Bobs's nose out of 
 joint,'' it sounds rather disrespectful, but that was the 
 way it was described to me. In the same letter I am 
 told that Sir Donald knows how to carry his own tail 
 and does it very effectively. I gathered amongst 
 other things that there had been a little hitch on his 
 arrival at Kabul in consequence of Lord Lytton 
 having sent Mr. Lepel Griffin as political agent to 
 Northern Afghanistan in supreme control of the 
 political situation and in direct communication with 
 the Viceroy. This dual control Sir Donald con- 
 sidered was neither wise nor consistent with his 
 dignity, he therefore wrote firmly and in parliamentary 
 language to the Viceroy explaining his views, and that 
 if the arrangement was unalterable he would like to 
 be reUeved of his command. There appears to have 
 been silence for a time and then Mr. Griffin was told 
 that while supreme he must of course have the 
 approval of Sir Donald Stewart on all points. After 
 this all went well. 
 
 It was the custom in those days, and may be still 
 for all I know to the contrary, to send a political 
 
174 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 officer with every general on a campaign in India. In 
 the opinion of many people this has led to controversy, 
 and in some cases good work done by the Army has 
 been rendered useless from the interference of the 
 political officer. When we go to war with any other 
 country we do not send a political officer with our 
 generals. For instance, when Lord Kitchener went 
 to Khartoum he was not accompanied by a political ; 
 the practice seems to be peculiar to India. 
 
 When speaking to Captain Stewart once about his 
 father's career and success in life, I remarked how very 
 modest, almost deprecatory he was about himself. 
 His son said, '' Yes, he is. Do you know that when 
 he was appointed Commander-in-Chief (without having 
 been consulted about it, by the way) he said he 
 could not believe it, there were so many men better 
 qualified for so important a post.'' This interested 
 me and I suggested that he was probably one of the 
 very few men in India who did not consider they 
 held all the necessary qualifications and were only 
 receiving their due ! 
 
 I asked Sir Donald if it was true that he was with 
 Lord Mayo when he was murdered on the Andaman 
 Islands. *' Yes," he replied, '' I was quite a young 
 man at the time, and had a strange feeling, a sort of 
 intuition that something was going to happen, and 
 begged the Viceroy to go about with a proper escort, 
 but he would take no care. For this reason I kept as 
 near him as possible, and so it happened that I was 
 close to him when the deed was done, but as it all 
 occurred in a flash, there was no chance of avert- 
 ing it ; and I believe the gentleman intended to bag 
 me too, but somehow this little surprise mis- 
 carried." 
 
 Many people have told me they thought Sir Donald 
 gruff and bad-mannered : he certainly was very out- 
 spoken and at times looked rather fierce ; this idea was 
 conveyed by his bright eyes shining from under 
 bristling and shaggy eyebrows, like untidy little 
 haystacks. In reality he was kind-hearted, full of 
 
SIR DONALD STEWART 175 
 
 humour and of a bright, happy nature, which made him 
 loved by all his family. 
 
 It was he who inaugurated that happy plan and 
 habit of never seeing anybody he passed on the Mall 
 at Simla. In small hill stations it is most fatiguing 
 for big officials like Viceroys and Commanders-in-Chief 
 to be obliged to bow and scrape to everybody they 
 meet, one perpetual taking off of their hats, and he 
 thought it would be a saving of trouble for everybody 
 concerned if he sailed along and saw nobody. At first 
 this caused surprise and some heart-burnings. People 
 did not like being passed by and no notice taken of 
 them any more than if they had been little dogs 
 wagging their tails, but they soon learned to be 
 grateful to him, understanding the common sense of 
 the idea. 
 
 When Sir Donald was appointed Governor of the 
 Royal Hospital, Chelsea, after the death of Sir Patrick 
 Grant, I asked Lady Stewart if she was pleased, and if 
 she liked the idea. The reply was *' No ! Everybody 
 dies when they go there/' It was difficult to find a 
 cheering and suitable reply as it is true that nobody 
 goes there until the end of their days, so to speak, this 
 being the last compliment paid them in their lifetime. 
 
 Lady Stewart and I were comparing notes one day 
 as to who had experienced the most adventures in our 
 lives. I maintained I had and so did she. At first 
 certainly hers were the most thrilling and her last 
 experience threw some of mine into the shade, but 
 mine made a bigger total. 
 
 Among the chief of Lady Stewart's adventures was 
 one day early in her married life, her palanquin bearers 
 put her down and ran away leaving her in the road, 
 which is exactly what happened to me once, only in 
 my case no smart young man came to my rescue. 
 Lady Stewart was more fortunate, a kind and 
 chivalrous youth, who happened to be passing in a 
 carriage or buggy, immediately he saw her plight got 
 out and placed the vehicle at her disposal, continuing 
 on foot himself. It turned out to be Lieutenant 
 
176 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Roberts, late Lord Roberts, who, after this meeting, 
 became a lifelong friend of the Stewarts. 
 
 Another of my friend's adventures happened when 
 she was on her way home to England with some of her 
 young family, in the days when travelling was most 
 primitive. Several hundreds of miles had to be 
 traversed in an open boat down a river full of rapids 
 and dangerous rocks. They had the misfortune to be 
 wrecked, and when rescued the mattresses, children 
 and, I believe. Lady Stewart — then Mrs. Stewart — were 
 all floating about in the barge, boat, or whatever the 
 thing was. This sort of experiences is all very well 
 when alone and nobody to think of but oneself, but 
 with small children it becomes quite another story, 
 most terrifying and nerve-shattering. 
 
 But the most alarming of all her mishaps was 
 reserved for after her return to England. When 
 on her way from Scotland, where they had been 
 renting a shooting at Tarland in Aberdeenshire, Lady 
 Stewart and her daughter, Lady Jenner, left the North 
 by the Scotch Express on the night of October the 
 31st, 1892, I think. All went well and both were 
 sleeping when towards morning, on nearing Thirsk in 
 Yorkshire, they ran into a heavily laden goods train. 
 The collision was so violent that the front part of the 
 express was completely wrecked, throwing the line 
 into dreadful confusion. The sleeping-car occupied by 
 Lady Stewart and her daughter was completely 
 telescoped by the carriage ahead, tearing one side of 
 the coach bodily out and flinging poor Lady Stewart, 
 mattress and all, on to the line, while her daughter on 
 the other side remained untouched. It was marvellous 
 that my dear old friend was not killed from shock 
 alone ; her spine and one leg were a good deal hurt, but 
 with her usual pluck she made light of it and con- 
 tinued her journey home the same day, though feeling 
 very ill, and had to remain in bed for weeks, never 
 really making a complete recovery. I was sitting by 
 her bedside one afternoon and asked her about the 
 accident, but she could not bear to talk of it. 
 
SIR DONALD STEWART 177 
 
 Sir Claude de Crespigny, speaking of Lady Stewart 
 not long ago, pleased me by saying he considered her 
 undoubtedly one of the most charming old ladies of 
 her time, with which I entirely agree. I always 
 remember with affection her many kindnesses to me, 
 and regret she is no longer with us. 
 
 The Stewarts had a number of lifelong friends, 
 which is not surprising; they were a most attrac- 
 tive family with their unpretentiousness and sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 The two Sir Donalds in this family were rather 
 confusing. Lady Stewart's husband, of whom I have 
 been writing, was Field-Marshal Sir Donald Stewart, 
 Bt., and his son was Sir Donald Stewart, k.c.m.g. ; the 
 latter being a brother-officer of my husband's in the 
 92nd Highlanders, and was wounded at the Battle of 
 Kandahar the same day as my man, both being in 
 hospital together. ** Donny," as we all called him, 
 was a great, handsome fellow and very strong. I have 
 heard it remarked that he was one of the strongest 
 men in the army ; he stood about 6 feet 2 inches, was 
 well set up and broad. Being popular and having a 
 large heart and love for his fellow-creatures as well 
 as sport, his finances were often a little strained. His 
 father helped him once or twice, till at last '' Donny " 
 came to the conclusion the best thing he could do was 
 to leave the service. He had been acting A.D.C. to 
 his father when Commander-in-Chief before they left 
 India. 
 
 I think he then went to America and for a time I 
 lost sight of him, at any rate after a while a letter came 
 from America telling me he was selling chickens off 
 a barrow in New York. A friend of mine met him 
 outside one of the big hotels there with a handcart 
 laden with ducks and chickens. I tried to picture 
 dear, beautiful, smart Donny selling his wares ; 
 it was amusing but incredible, especially as I am told 
 he stood by his barrow in a battered silk hat, flannel 
 trousers and frock-coat, without which peculiar kit 
 no one could hope to do any business ; as he amusingly 
 
178 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 explained, he would have been regarded as no class at 
 all amongst the other vendors. Donny's devoted 
 mother used her influence with Lord Roberts on her 
 son's behalf and in consequence he was appointed 
 to the Police in West Africa, becoming political 
 officer to the Ashanti Expedition, and at the time of 
 his death from fever in 1905 was Commissioner and 
 Commander-in-Chief of the East African Protectorate. 
 He practically died at the beginning of his career. 
 There was no doubt he had considerable ability, and 
 had he lived would surely have made his mark. He 
 carried with him through his short life the same 
 happy cheerful spirit that had made so many friends 
 for his father. As a subaltern in the 92nd Highlanders, 
 as A.D.C. to his father, poultry-farmer, political 
 officer. Commissioner and Commander-in-Chief of the 
 East African Protectorate, he was hard-working, 
 straightforward and always ready with a friendly 
 hand to help anyone in trouble. Nothing could ex- 
 ceed his generosity and hospitality. Sir Claude de 
 Crespigny had been staying in Kumassi with him for 
 some time before he died. 
 
 Sir Donald, as my friend had now become on being 
 appointed Chief of the East African Protectorate, had 
 been ill for some little time from fever and a chill 
 brought on by standing in water when shooting. 
 Had not the doctors said he was going on quite 
 well Sir Claude would never have left him, and 
 he was greatly grieved and shocked on reaching 
 home to receive a cable saying poor Donny was 
 dead. 
 
 Several times I have been told that Sir Donald was 
 one of the best, indeed some have said the best Com- 
 missioner East Africa has ever seen. 
 
 There is a medallion at Kumassi, let into the 
 wall of the post office, that is a most excellent like- 
 ness of him, and Sir Claude de Crespigny caused 
 a memorial brass to be placed in the crypt of 
 St. Paul's to the memory of his old friend, on which 
 is inscribed : 
 
SIR DONALD STEWART 179 
 
 CAPTAIN SIR DONALD WILLIAM STEWART, K.C.M.G., 
 
 GORDON HIGHLANDERS 
 
 SON OF FIELD-MARSHAL SIR DONALD STEWART, BART. 
 
 SERVED IN THE AFGHAN WAR, 1879-80. 
 
 SEVERELY WOUNDED. 
 TRANSVAAL WAR, 1881. SOUDAN, 1884-5. 
 
 BRITISH RESIDENT AT KUMASSI, 
 COMMISSIONER AND COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, 
 BRITISH EAST AFRICA. 
 BORN i860, DIED IN SERVICE AT NAIROBI, I905. 
 
 This memorial is quite near the marble placed in 
 the crypt to the memory of his father, the Field- 
 Marshal, and near that of Nelson, and Charles Reade, 
 the novelist. 
 
 When Lord Roberts unveiled the memorial to Field- 
 Marshal Sir Donald Stewart, a pick-pocket during the 
 ceremony took the opportunity to annex a gold 
 presentation watch from young Sir Donald. I have 
 heard that the latter was the only man to have all 
 three bronze stars, Roberts, Ashanti and Khedive's. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 OFF TO EGYPT 
 
 My Young Brother as War Correspondent — The Great Savile Lumley — 
 Off to Cairo — Landing at Ismailia — I Sit Amongst Horses' Buckets 
 and Hay — Donkey Ride with a General — Shepheard's Hotel — Lord 
 . Hay of Kinfauns — Colonel George Harvey and His Wife — General 
 Valentine Baker — His Daughter — Wounded at El Teb — The loth 
 Hussars off to the Front Salute Their Old Colonel. 
 
 A FRIEND asked me long ago which of all the 
 countries I have been in I liked the best. 
 There was no occasion for me to pause and 
 think, even for a moment, for Egypt, that land of 
 mystery and mighty dead, holds me in thrall. Egypt 
 and Rome have atmospheres entirely their own, 
 romance of the past and present-day civilisation 
 intermingled, something that appeals profoundly to 
 us, that defies speech. In Egypt especially we seem to 
 feel that we are near some great hidden truths, some 
 soulful discoveries, but cannot get near enough for 
 touch, though in the twilight, when all is bathed in 
 orange and gold, we sometimes creep very close. 
 
 One of my most thrilling visits to Egypt was in 
 1885, just after poor Gordon was done to death at 
 Khartoum. My youngest brother was very anxious 
 to see some of the stirring events, some of the great 
 battles taking place in the Soudan, but not being a 
 soldier did not know how it could be done. He and I 
 put our heads together, and I suggested possibly it 
 might be worked if we could get him on to some paper 
 as correspondent. He jumped at the idea. I there- 
 fore wrote a little note to my kind friend Mr. Augustus 
 Savile Lumley, the great Savile who always helped 
 everybody and did not fail me. Within twenty-four 
 hours my brother had in his pocket the magic card 
 
 180 
 
OFF TO EGYPT i8i 
 
 that would act as a passport anywhere, but before 
 going on our journey to Egypt I must acknowledge 
 my indebtedness to my friend, and have a little parley 
 about him, for he was a great character. His name 
 was a thing to conjure with, and not to know this 
 popular person was to label oneself unknown. When 
 I first met him he was past the first heyday of his 
 youth, and was struggling manfully to keep his figure 
 in symmetrical proportions with the rather severe 
 restrictions of Dame Corset. 
 
 When first I married nobody thought their ball 
 could be a success without him ; he was the cotillion 
 leader of the Victorian Era. People with daughters 
 to introduce eagerly sought his help. If he assisted 
 them their efforts were generally crowned with suc- 
 cess, without it, the people wasted their time and 
 money ; entertainers scrambled for his help, anybody 
 fortunate enough to attract his attention was made at 
 once, for he knew the game from A to Z, and thoroughly 
 enjoyed it too. Nothing bored him. 
 
 I regarded him as one of the best of the butterflies 
 of that period. He was the hero of many strange tales, 
 and also had many to relate of other folk. He knew 
 all the gossip from Court to kitchen and has amused 
 me by the hour, yet never did I hear him repeat an 
 unkind story or tell one in an unkind way, though he 
 managed to relate endless amusing anecdotes of people 
 and things. I liked him for four reasons : first, for 
 his good-natured, kindly chatter ; secondly, for the 
 amount of trouble he would take to help those who 
 sought his aid ; thirdly, for the faultlessness of his 
 attire ; and last, though by no means least, for his 
 refined and ever dainty mode of speech ; his manners 
 were most courtly at all times. 
 
 He told me a stern parent had put him in the Army 
 when a youth, although it was not the profession of 
 his choice. In many ways the role of Guardsman 
 must have suited him admirably, but while an ex- 
 tremely good-tempered man, he was very determined, 
 and when he held views not altogether in sympathy 
 
i82 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 with his colonel, was not inclined to give way. There- 
 fore after a while he left the service and the First Life 
 Guards saw him no more. He went abroad to study 
 art and languages. While thus improving his educa- 
 tion in Italy he was thrust into prison, being taken for 
 a Prussian spy. 
 
 He had a distinct leaning towards art, and before 
 the end of his reign painted a picture that was 
 hung in the Academy. Perhaps what he loved best 
 was painting portraits of pretty ladies. I thought 
 the ladies rather liked it too. He certainly had a 
 large field from which to make his selections of 
 beauties. 
 
 Those who could count themselves his friends were 
 lucky. He was loyal and would put himself to great 
 inconvenience without a murmur to help those he 
 cared for, be they man, woman or child. He was on 
 intimate terms with kings, emperors, artists, actors, 
 and society with a very big '' S,'' Napoleon the Third, 
 Metternich, the Empress of Russia, and other notable 
 people. 
 
 At one time I believe he went into the City, which 
 always sounds so mysterious and often is, though it is 
 now quite the fashionable thing to do. 
 
 I wondered latterly how he could nip about so 
 nimbly on the lightest of toes with such a wonderful 
 waist. I have heard he used to go long walking tours, 
 perhaps that was when his figure had other propor- 
 tions. 
 
 He remained a bachelor to the end of his days, 
 dying at the early age of 58 in 1887. Many will, I 
 think, agree with me that he died much too soon, 
 being one of those kindly, bright people who radiate 
 some of their joy of life on those around them. 
 
 Now I must place my other memories of this good 
 old friend somewhere for safety, and where I can find 
 them again, and go on to Egypt with my brother 
 Percy. He was anxious I should go with him, partly 
 because the doctors wished me to be in a warm dry 
 climate during the cold early spring months, and partly 
 
OFF TO EGYPT 183 
 
 because I knew so many of the people out there taking 
 part in the Soudan Campaign. 
 
 Haste was my brother's primary object, so hurriedly 
 throwing some garments into a dress-basket, I de- 
 clared myself ready to start. As we drove to the 
 station black-edged English papers were being 
 sold in the streets in mourning for poor betrayed 
 Gordon, whose death was that day announced. The 
 whole country had been in suspense for some weeks, 
 wondering if the splendid fanatic would be able to 
 hold out until help reached him. He had been be- 
 sieged five months, and we all knew the chances were 
 against him, but we hoped, until it was no use hoping 
 any longer. 
 
 We sailed in a P. & O., and hearing that some 
 horses, hay and provisions were going to be moved 
 from our steamer into barges in the Suez Canal and 
 then landed at Ismailia, my brother asked the captain 
 if he would allow us to be landed at the same time, 
 so as to save days more travelling. He very kindly 
 gave his consent, but told me he feared I should find 
 it very rough work. Near Lake Timsah we anchored 
 in a siding cut in the bank of the Canal, and the horses 
 were lowered by a crane into the barges ; poor things, 
 it was no use protesting, and they must have felt 
 horribly sick and frightened. I began to wonder if 
 that treatment would be apphed to me. I watched 
 with much interest the horses being packed close 
 together in rows in the barges and the huge blocks of 
 hay being stowed away, wondering where I should be 
 expected to sit or stand, for indeed there seemed no 
 room anywhere. I was determined I would not ask 
 any questions for fear it might be thought I was grum- 
 bling or ungrateful when the skipper had made the 
 arrangement for us to go with these loads. The last 
 three horses were being swung out over the barge 
 standing longside, when orders were given for the 
 gangway and ladder to be let down for me. I felt 
 relieved, and after many expressions of regret at part- 
 ing, and thanks for kindnesses had been exchanged 
 
i84 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 between us, the skipper and other passengers, I 
 descended and found a bucket turned upside down 
 had been placed for me to sit upon. I was painfully 
 near the heels of some of my four-footed companions, 
 but they were packed too tight to be able to do much 
 harm. I observed with much more dismay the nearness 
 of the water, which in such a heavily laden barge was 
 fairly lapping the gunwale or whatever they call the 
 edge of a barge, but I hoped for the best. 
 
 We were already in touch with matters of moment 
 and interest that my brother could write about for 
 his paper. I made mental notes, keeping one eye on 
 the nearness of the water and the other on a big black 
 horse towering above me as I sat on my bucket turned 
 almost under his body. 
 
 Horses are generally friendly with me, and I soon 
 ceased to be anxious, little knowing what was in store 
 for me. On arrival at Ismailia a large place had been 
 roped in where we were to land. I naturally wished 
 to efface myself as much as possible so as to give no 
 trouble or take up anybody's valuable time, so re- 
 mained quietly on my bucket while the horses were 
 all turned loose and the bales of hay, buckets and 
 harness tied together in huge bundles were in turn 
 thrown ashore. Horses are, as a rule, anxious to do 
 all that is required of them if they only know what 
 our pleasure may be, but when one man gives them 
 a spank behind urging them to get out of the way, 
 another puts his fist in their faces for being too push- 
 ing, and when clattering buckets are thrown in heaps 
 on the ground close to their heads or heels, or occasion- 
 ally on top of their backs, it is small wonder they 
 become bewildered and wild. 
 
 I shall never forget that landing. I should probably 
 have been killed by any other animals, but horses and 
 I are good friends. My brother was anxious to tear off 
 to catch General Arbuthnot, who he heard was start- 
 ing away up-country at once. I told him to go on by 
 all means, I would follow with the horses and the hay. 
 A transport officer, perspiring and unshaven, khaki- 
 
OFF TO EGYPT 185 
 
 coloured from face to boots, informed me there was a 
 little inn on the place where everybody was staying 
 and I had better make my way there, warning me I 
 should find it a weary tramp in the sand. It was no 
 use grunting, there being no alternative. 
 
 I suggested that though I could not lift large trusses 
 of hay I could certainly put some halters on the horses 
 and could lead some of them, if by so doing I should be 
 any help. I led the procession with my big black 
 friend whom I had conversed with on the barge. He 
 made no sort of protest, and most of the rest followed 
 him meekly. Some of the poor beasties were looking 
 rather sadly. I think they had suffered on the voyage, 
 and the swinging on board the barges must have made 
 them feel sick. Horses, I know, suffer much from sea- 
 sickness, and are denied the relief permitted to human 
 beings. 
 
 When we reached the little inn I found my brother 
 there. He had seen the General, and had been told 
 none of us could go on until the next morning, that the 
 place was cram full of soldiers and more expected that 
 night, and there was no chance of a bed for me, and 
 not much prospect of any food. He also added there 
 was not another woman on the place but myself, with 
 the exception of the proprietor's wife, who was French. 
 
 Being most anxious not to take either food or accom- 
 modation required by the hard-worked and tired 
 soldiers, I told my brother to try and get me a few 
 biscuits or something to keep my body and soul 
 together arid I would sleep outside under the little 
 verandah. It was evening and I walked round the 
 little hut, for it was not much more. I saw through an 
 open door the General and some officers of sorts sitting 
 at a long wooden trestle table in a small parlour, only 
 large enough to seat twelve people tightly packed. 
 It was quite a squeeze for the men to get to and from 
 their places. As soon as one had finished he got up 
 and went away, when his seat was immediately filled 
 again by someone else who had been waiting for his 
 turn to feed. I observed the wooden and canvas paper- 
 
i86 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 covered walls or partitions bulging as they squeezed 
 up and down. 
 
 All were gobbling away as if life depended on every- 
 thing being eaten up in five minutes. There was no 
 cloth on the narrow table formed of planks on trestles, 
 in the middle stood a tin basin answering for a soup 
 tureen. I did not see very clearly what was inside it, 
 but it looked as though it might have been second 
 cousin to the English Irish stew. All the hungry, tired- 
 looking men had their eyes glued on their plates ; while 
 feeding themselves with spoons in their right hands, 
 their left groped about the middle of the table for a 
 loaf that was being passed up and down, from which 
 each helped themselves in turn. I wandered on and 
 found my brother helping to water the horses. He 
 had captured some biscuits for me and a drink of 
 water. I think they must have been dog biscuits. 
 They were very hard, and had queer-looking odds and 
 ends inside ; in one I found a tin-tack. 
 
 Presently the landlady came with profuse apologies 
 and regrets at my discomfort, assuring me that at any 
 other time the best of everything should have been 
 placed at my disposal, but now, well now she had not 
 enough for the poor soldiers, and there was nowhere 
 for me to sleep, unless I would condescend to occupy 
 the bed usually used by herself and her husband. I 
 told her I could not dream of doing that, but was at 
 length persuaded, as she said she would have no time 
 to go to bed. Various kindly offers were made of 
 rigging me up a tent, but I would not hear of it, every- 
 body had quite enough to do without bothering 
 about me. 
 
 Having no luggage with me I gladly accepted my 
 landlady's offer of some sleeping garments, and how 
 thankful I was to get off my shoes that were full of 
 sand, but I did not reap much benefit from this as the 
 floor was sanded. 
 
 Although very tired I could not sleep much. The 
 horses tethered outside were restless and soldiers 
 tramped about nearly all night. At the first streak of 
 
OFF TO EGYPT 187 
 
 dawn I looked out of my window, which was a very 
 small square like those seen at times in attics, only in 
 this case near the ground. I wished to see who were 
 the musicians with such unmusical snores. I found 
 rows of soldiers lying asleep close under my window, 
 in all their kit, just as I had seen them when watering 
 the horses the evening before. I hoped so much they 
 had found something to eat. As it grew lighter I 
 observed a black rim round the skirt of my rohe de nuit. 
 On examination I found it composed of fleas, real 
 ballet dancers, full of agility. Fortunately they do 
 not like me, so I was not as annoyed with them as I 
 should otherwise have been. 
 
 My hard-worked and harassed landlady brought 
 me a cup of tea and piece of bread and jam, which I 
 enjoyed in my room. Before long my brother came 
 to say would I go with him to see the camels branded, 
 as he wished to make some notes. I expressed myself 
 as delighted to go with him if only I could get a basin 
 and some water wherewith to wash. He laughed at 
 me, saying nobody had washed, and I must do as 
 others did, so I went with him unwashed, wondering 
 what my landlady usually did, as there was no sign 
 in her bedroom of anything in the nature of cleansing 
 paraphernalia. 
 
 The camels were being branded in an enclosed place 
 with high walls and big wooden gates. It was not a 
 pleasant sight, and I found the smell of camels and 
 native drivers overpowering on top of a dinnerless 
 night and breakfast less morning. I told my brother 
 I would wait outside the walls for him, and turned to 
 carry out my intention, when I saw a camel wiggle its 
 neck round like an india-rubber tube and, with one 
 sideways sort of chew, take the top of a man's head off. 
 I suppose matters were more or less balanced now the 
 camel had been branded and did not like it, and the 
 driver had been branded and did not like it, at least 
 if he knew anything about it he would not have liked 
 it. I was feeling so sick and ill I began to think I was 
 going to make an exhibition of myself by fainting, but 
 
i88 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 managed to stumble outside the gates and there sat 
 down under the shade of a few trees close to the en- 
 closure to await my brother. 
 
 On returning to our hotel, shall I call it ? I was met 
 by General Arbuthnot, who informed me it was time 
 for us to go to the station, which was some little dis- 
 tance from our head-quarters, and he had engaged a 
 donkey for me to ride and one for himself. He hoped 
 I did not mind, but there was no saddle, and unless I 
 rode or walked I should not reach the station, there 
 being no other means of transit. Had I been in riding 
 kit I should not have minded how I rode, but was 
 hardly prepared to ride astride in skirts and their 
 usual accompaniments in the face of hundreds of men 
 watching the proceedings. Being determined to make 
 no fuss I said it would be all right. My brother gave 
 me a leg up and I started sitting sideways, balancing 
 myself on the razor-blade back of my little white moke. 
 We went away in great style. Presently the General, 
 who was also saddleless, said, '' If you are all right we 
 will push on," and without waiting for answer he 
 bouffed off at a brisk canter, developing into a gallop ; 
 he wore spurs. My donkey of course followed suit, 
 but I did not, for after falling first on its neck and then 
 recovering myself, I fell off head first on the off side 
 into the sand, and relieved of its burden the donkey 
 did a sprint all on its own and disappeared in the 
 direction taken by the General. 
 
 I picked myself up, spat out a little sand that had 
 found its way into my mouth, shook some out of my 
 hair and shoes, making up my mind to endure what 
 had gone down the back of my neck. I now proceeded 
 to follow my donkey's footsteps, but had not gone far 
 when to my relief I saw coming towards me General 
 Arbuthnot riding his donkey and leading mine. He 
 was full of concern until he saw I was laughing. Then 
 he explained to me his dismay when on arriving at 
 the station and dismounting to come and help me to do 
 the same he found my donkey without its rider. We 
 both laughed heartily, and I told him I should cer- 
 
OFF TO EGYPT 189 
 
 tainly ride astride now and so prevent a repetition of 
 my ignominy. This I proceeded to do, and confess it 
 was not graceful, but nobody seemed the least sur- 
 prised or shocked. 
 
 I feared after this delay we might miss our train. 
 I was going to Cairo and my newly found friend to 
 Suakim ; but we were now informed there had been 
 some delay and the train for Suakim would not be in 
 for probably an hour or more, and the one for Cairo 
 would be even later. The General had so exhausted 
 himself with anxiety and fuss that he sank down on 
 to a narrow Httle bench in what answered for ticket 
 office, waiting-room, luggage and telegraph office, and 
 fell asleep still wrapped up in his green gauze veil, 
 blue goggles, and endless little contrivances hanging 
 from him in all directions which he had explained to me 
 were going to be a boon and blessing to him in the near 
 future. There were field-glasses, spoons, knives and 
 forks all growing on one stalk, a drinking-cup that did 
 conjuring tricks, was a looking-glass one moment and 
 a something else the next. They all looked forlorn 
 and degage now hanging about the sleeping figure with 
 his sun helmet sitting jauntily on one side of his head. 
 I wondered he did not lie on the ground and rest him- 
 self instead of endeavouring to balance on a narrow 
 bench, but perhaps that would have been infra dig. 
 for a full-blown general. His slumbers did not last 
 long. First one and then another soldier of sorts came 
 to ask questions and have things signed. At last his 
 train came in and I saw him steam away to do or die. 
 I never met him again, and do not even know who he 
 was beyond the fact that he had a most charming 
 manner and gentle persuasive voice, absolutely devoid 
 of any of the knock-you-down, thigh-slapping, feet- 
 wide-apart, bullying manner so repulsive in some of 
 those I have seen in high places, not of course to their 
 equals but to the men. I observed General Arbuthnot 
 once or twice speaking to young officers and men ; he 
 was dignified, reserved in manner, yet gentle and 
 pleasant. 
 
igo MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 My brother and I went on to Cairo and Shepheard's 
 Hotel. We had wired for rooms, and Monsieur Louigi 
 did his best to make us comfortable. I wish all hotels 
 had such obliging managers. The place was crammed 
 with officers and some of their wives come to see them 
 off, as well as a goodly number of visitors there for 
 the winter and their health. 
 
 I had not been five minutes on the steps of the hotel 
 before I met a number of men I knew, all in a violent 
 hurry and full of business, for train -loads of troops 
 were being despatched daily to the different fronts. 
 Fortunately one of the first I met was General Sir 
 George Greaves, whom I had known in India, and he 
 took my brother under his wing, promising to give 
 him all the information that circumstances permitted. 
 
 Cairo was peculiarly interesting at that time. Every 
 other person we met was taking some active part in 
 those stirring times. At dinner the first evening, in 
 the large dining-room with every corner packed, I 
 observed many faces I knew. As we were leaving the 
 room, someone caught hold of my brother, saying, 
 '' Hullo, what are you doing here ? " On turning to 
 see who was speaking I found our old friend, Fitzroy 
 Hay, at that time Lord Hay of Kinfauns, of the 
 Egyptian gendarmerie, but formerly in the Black 
 Watch. 
 
 My brother replied, *' I am here as correspondent 
 for one of the London papers.'' ''Oh, are you?'' 
 replied Lord Hay. '* I am here as co-respondent ! " 
 This amused us, as a short time before our arrival he 
 had run away with somebody's wife, and she was, I 
 believe, somewhere in the vicinity at the time. 
 
 We saw a good deal of this old friend when in Cairo. 
 He kindly sent his piano into our room to amuse us. 
 He was wearing the uniform of the Egyptian Gendar- 
 merie, which was to him most unbecoming. The only 
 person I ever saw in a tarboosh who looked well in it 
 was Lord Kitchener. It made Lord Hay look quite 
 plain, whereas he was really good-looking. It is the 
 national Egyptian and Turkish head-dress, and nothing 
 
OFF TO EGYPT 191 
 
 I should have thought could have been more unsuit- 
 able, affording no sort of protection to the head from 
 the sun. 
 
 I remarked on this once to Lord Kitchener, and he 
 told me the reason it is adopted by Mussulmans, is 
 because it allows them to touch the ground with their 
 foreheads in prayer, which is part of their ritual. 
 Any head-dress with a brim would interfere with this 
 practice. 
 
 By the way, it was in Egypt I first met Lord Kit- 
 chener, but I must write of him in another chapter, 
 there being so much that was arresting in his character, 
 manners and ways. 
 
 I have to thank Egypt for many good friends. 
 When I was left alone in the hotel after my brother 
 had gone on with General Greaves and the troops. 
 Colonel George Harvey and his handsome wife (nee 
 Craigie-Halkett) took pity on me and asked me to 
 stay with them in their bungalow at Ghezireh, a little 
 way outside Cairo, where their hospitality was un- 
 bounded, and I was glad a little later to be able to 
 return it by lending them my house in town for the 
 arrival of the first little Harvey. Colonel Harvey was 
 in the Black Watch and present at the battles of Tel- 
 el-Kebir and El Teb, where his brave deeds won him 
 special mention, and the picture papers portrayed him 
 doing gallant deeds. When he married he left the 
 army and joined Valentine Baker's Egyptian Police. 
 He it was who raised '' Harvey's Blacks." He com- 
 manded the Sudanese Gendarmerie, and is now Com- 
 mandant of Police, bearing the title of Harvey Pasha 
 at Alexandria. 
 
 Their bungalow at Ghezireh was most artistic. The 
 drawing-room, which was large and lofty, had a hand- 
 painted dado of great depth running all round the 
 room, depicting sporting scenes, from the brush of some 
 artist. Many pleasant evenings have I spent in that 
 room, both my host and hostess being adepts in the 
 art of entertaining. It was during this visit that I 
 drove with Mrs. Harvey to call on General Valentine 
 
192 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Baker and his little daughter. It was soon after the 
 death of his wife and eldest girl from typhoid fever. 
 They died at Shepheard's Hotel. It nearly broke his 
 heart, for during all his troubles when he left the 
 loth Hussars, his wife had been loyal and would listen 
 to no word against him, cheering him and showing the 
 world no scandal shook her faith in her husband. 
 
 I had not seen General Baker since the early days 
 of m}^ marriage, and was hardly prepared for the 
 change I found in him. It was evening in the short 
 twilight when we were shown by a silent-footed 
 Egyptian manservant into a large dim room. The 
 General did not hear us as we entered. He was walk- 
 ing up and down, his hands behind his back, leaning 
 forward with chin on chest, the whole attitude of this 
 big man one of dejection, while his one remaining 
 child, a little fair-haired daughter in short skirts and 
 hair down her back, was sitting on a music-stool before 
 a sweet-toned piano playing from memory some of 
 Mendelssohn's little songs without words, which I 
 think should be called prayers without words. Poor 
 lonely motherless bairn, truly a tragic little figure, with 
 large blue unhappy eyes, and a literally tear-stained 
 face. She saw us first and stopped playing. This 
 attracted her father's attention, and he came forward 
 to greet us, with his sad gentle voice. Could this be 
 the same Valentine Baker I had known in England, 
 patron of the Prince of Wales' Theatre, and dashing 
 cavalry commander, with bright eye and alert manner ? 
 His experiences had indeed left a mark. 
 
 Lady Evelyn Baring, Mrs. Harvey and others tried 
 hard to comfort the little Sybil, and have her with them 
 as much as possible, but it was painful to see the child ; 
 she was always with tears in her eyes and heart. 
 
 I thought my husband might like to be in the 
 Egyptian Police as the climate suited me. Both 
 General Baker and Colonel Harvey tried to arrange 
 this, and it was practically settled. General Baker 
 thought my husband might have been his private 
 secretary, and I would have looked after his house 
 
OFF TO EGYPT 193 
 
 and chaperoned his daughter, but at the last moment 
 a change of plans frustrated this nice arrangement, and 
 the daughter went home to a relative to be looked 
 after. Her father did not live long after this, and she 
 then felt more lonely than ever, and in the dangerous 
 position of a rich and unhappy orphan. In 1891 she 
 came to tell me she was going to marry Sir John 
 Garden of Templemore, Ireland. She died in 191 1, 
 having had a sad life. I do not think she ever re- 
 covered from the shock of her mother's and sister's 
 death in Cairo. It quite upset her nerves and health. 
 
 General Valentine Baker, or Baker Pasha, as he was 
 called latterly, died of angina pectoris at Tel-el-Kebir 
 on November 17th, 1887, and was buried with military 
 honours in the English cemetery at Cairo. In a de- 
 spatch dated December 5th, 1887, from Lord Salisbury 
 to Sir Evelyn Baring, the late Lord Cromer, his lordship 
 expressed the regret of Her Majesty's Government at 
 the news of his death, acknowledging the important 
 services he had rendered to the Egyptian Government. 
 
 I have heard people who understand these things 
 say his great military abilities were wasted on the 
 command of a civil force. They were sufficiently 
 great to have made a most brilliant career in our 
 military service. 
 
 It was with the loth Hussars under Colonel Valen- 
 tine Baker that the Prince of Wales (later King 
 Edward VII) received his first military training, the 
 regiment being stationed at Hounslow, the Prince 
 and his tutor making their home at the White Lodge, 
 Richmond, meanwhile ; for thirteen years Valentine 
 Baker commanded the regiment, becoming known as 
 ** Baker of the Tenth," bringing it to such a state of 
 efficiency that it was the admiration of the whole 
 army. 
 
 Being a really keen soldier he preferred learning 
 from practical demonstration rather than from books ; 
 for this reason he managed to be present at most of 
 the great European campaigns. He was in the Austro- 
 Prussian War, also as a spectator in the German- 
 
194 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Franco War, when for a time he was detained as a 
 German spy. Quite a number of my friends and 
 relations appear to have shared this experience. 
 
 In 1874 Colonel Baker was appointed Assistant 
 Quartermaster-General at Aldershot, and he was away 
 so much from his regimental duties that the Duke of 
 Cambridge spoke to him about it. Then came the 
 great misfortune of his life. A scandal associated 
 with his name and a lady's, obliging him to leave the 
 regiment he had been instrumental in making so smart, 
 as the Queen had *' no longer any use for his services.'' 
 
 There have been various opinions about the rights 
 and wrongs of this case. His wife, whom he had 
 married in 1865, never believed a word of the scandal, 
 remaining a faithful and devoted wife to him up to 
 the day of her death. The Prince of Wales also never 
 forsook his old friend. 
 
 After leaving the Tenth he decided to go to the 
 Eastern deserts, which had always had a fascination 
 for him. 
 
 General Baker told me one of the greatest disap- 
 pointments of his life was experienced at the first 
 battle of El Teb, when his Egyptian soldiers either 
 threw down their arms or surrendered to the Arabs. 
 
 It was during the second El Teb that he was badly 
 wounded in the face ; he carried a deep scar to the end 
 of his days, and I cannot imagine how he escaped 
 losing his eye, the bullet wound was so close to it. 
 
 Well I remember the loth Hussars leaving Lucknow 
 when ordered to Egypt, nearly all Lucknow went to 
 see them off and bid them au re voir. They were in 
 grand spirits and delighted they were going to have a 
 chance of fighting. The whole regiment had been 
 popular, and although I had been informed they in- 
 dulged in a certain amount of cheap swagger, I must 
 confess I never saw any of it. The story of '* The Tenth 
 don't dance " may have been emblematic once in days 
 long past, but they certainly not only danced but made 
 themselves very agreeable, joining in every sort of 
 amusement for the moment. 
 
OFF TO EGYPT 195 
 
 Baker Pasha did valuable work in Egypt, and was 
 much missed after his death. I have heard it 
 remarked that he was at times rather a thorn in 
 the side of some of the military authorities, as he 
 held very determined and pronounced views on 
 certain points from which nothing would persuade 
 him to secede, and being in command of the blackies 
 he was more or less independent. 
 
 I find it is not generally known that General Baker 
 was offered reinstatement in the English Army but 
 declined it. Neither is it known, and I have been told 
 it is a fact, that when Colonel Wood was commanding 
 the Tenth in Egypt and came across his old friend 
 Baker of the Tenth he ordered the regiment to march 
 past and invited their old Colonel to take the salute. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 LORD KITCHENER 
 
 Egypt — Dinner at the British Agency — The Coming K. — Captain 
 Baden-Powell — Prince Bliicher — Lord Kitchener — His Character — 
 He Asks for Bucksheesh — And Gets It — Lord Airlie's Coat-of-arms 
 — Lord Kitchener Loses His Cap — Finds It on a Subaltern's Head — 
 Lunches at the J.U.S.C. — Meets a Friend — An Afternoon Call 
 — Plays a Game of Soldiers — Becomes Frightened — Hides — 
 A Lady Loses Her Chignon — Lord Kitchener Finds It — Gordon's 
 Farewell to England — Lord Kitchener is Disappointed — His Death. 
 
 DINING at the British Agency in Cairo in 
 1885 with Sir Evelyn and Lady Baring, 
 I found myself seated between two most 
 interesting people, on my right Colonel Ardagh (later 
 General Sir John Ardagh), at that time D.A.A.G.and 
 Q.M.G. to the expeditionary force in Egypt, on my left 
 Prince Bliicher, with whom I had to air my best 
 French. Our conversation turned on who would be 
 the great men of the future. Colonel Ardagh expressed 
 the opinion that Egypt held at that moment some 
 promising young men, and he had noticed they seemed 
 to come in waves and cycles. Looking across the 
 table, he attracted my attention to a well-set-up, 
 good-looking young man absently engaged in making 
 bread pills, speaking seldom, but attentive to all that 
 was passing and looking very dour. I was informed 
 this was '' young Kitchener,'' Colonel Ardagh adding, 
 '' There is the coming K. That man will make a 
 mark, and so will Gerry Portal. They are both bound 
 to come to the front. Another man of whom I expect 
 great things is Baden-Powell.'' This forecast has all 
 come true, thereby proving Colonel Ardagh a judge of 
 character. The Baden-Powell referred to is the 
 present-day Sir Robert, father of the Boy Scout 
 Movement, one of the most useful and far-reaching 
 
 196 
 
LORD KITCHENER 197 
 
 institutions of the age. Gerry Portal I shall speak of 
 later. He was in the diplomatic service and working 
 under Sir Evelyn Baring (afterwards Lord Cromer). 
 
 After dinner Captain Kitchener was introduced to 
 me. We chatted like the folk in The Hunting of the 
 Snark, about thimbles, ploughs and railway-shares. 
 He was reserved and monosyllabic. Even in those 
 early days I felt he was a lonely soul, not in the body, 
 but in the spirit. In later years this impression 
 increased. There grew a look in his eyes of perpetual 
 loneliness. His personality was attractive yet in a 
 measure repellent. He held all at arm's length. I think 
 I gathered my impressions and what I wanted to 
 know, not so much from what he said as what he did 
 not say. His passionless, cold, steely-blue eyes w^ere 
 quite peculiar, one being rather different from the other. 
 I used quite to forget what I was talking about while 
 studying which eye was looking into mine and which 
 at my hair. Not that I mean to suggest for a moment 
 that he squinted or had any sort of deformity, only that 
 his eyes were not equal, and his massive brow shading 
 them gave him an arresting and uncommon appearance. 
 
 He gave the impression of being a hard unemotional 
 man, yet I do not feel at all sure this impression is a 
 correct one. He certainly was very canny, not easily 
 taken in or likely to be turned from his own opinion ; 
 still less was he a man to be rushed into unconsidered 
 situations. Being a hard worker by temperament he 
 liked other people to keep pace with him. When they 
 failed in this he was apt to be intolerant and looked 
 upon it as shirking. One of his staff told me nobody 
 dare even be ill who had to work with '' the Chief " 
 as they called him. His passion for work was one of the 
 most interesting traits in his character, never happy 
 unless studying something to assuage his thirst for 
 knowledge. 
 
 Field-telegraphy was one of his first studies in the 
 days of its infancy. Fortunately it did not meet with 
 the same scorn that aircraft suftered when first intro- 
 duced into this country. The first great work of 
 
198 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Kitchener's life was when he was asked to undertake 
 some BibUcal research and exploration in Palestine. 
 This was after his own heart, an open-air life amongst 
 the people who interested him more than all others. 
 
 It was difficult to get him to talk of himself, 
 his work or experiences, but I found a way of cir- 
 cumventing his reticence. I had heard he saved the 
 life of a friend working with him in Palestine, and 
 the man's name was Condor ; so one day I said to 
 him while trying to look very innocent, '' What a 
 wonderful story that is about all those people whose 
 lives you saved when on your Biblical research work, 
 one man's name was Condy, was it not ? Any relation 
 to Condy 's Fluid ? " At first the poor man looked some- 
 what puzzled, but when I mentioned the name of 
 Condy it dawned on him what I referred to and I 
 heard the story at first hand, but told in such a modest 
 way I had to do a good deal of reading between the 
 lines. Speaking of Mr. Condor he said, '' Yes, I was 
 once able to lend him a helping hand when he was in 
 trouble while bathing, and again when the Moslems 
 attacked and nearly throttled him. They objected 
 to our poking our noses into their villages and prowl- 
 ing about amongst their tombs, and chose an oppor- 
 tunity when Condor was alone in his tent to attack 
 him. I went to the rescue, and was only just in time." 
 
 From what I gathered the Moslems had the best of 
 the argument, at first at any rate, though they were 
 made to pay for it afterwards ; as both Kitchener and 
 Condor were rather badly hurt. I think it was on this 
 same occasion that the former had to run for his life 
 from a furious and pursuing Sheik who he said had 
 legs as long as his own and an infinitely better wind ! 
 
 It was not given to everybody to see Lord Kitchener 
 in his lighter moments, yet he enjoyed a joke, as the 
 following will show. A relation of mine was with him 
 in Egypt in 1885, when he reached 30 Mile Hill to 
 meet the returning columns under Red vers Buller. 
 A Greek merchant anxious to capture some trade 
 before the troops reached Korti, went out with boxes 
 
LORD KITCHENER 199 
 
 and bales containing many varieties of everyday- 
 requisites for sale. After making a number of 
 purchases for the mess, Kitchener addressed the 
 merchant, saying, *' I think you now ought to give me 
 some bucksheesh (present) after buying all these 
 things,*' speaking jokingly of the native habit of 
 always asking for bucksheesh. The Greek merchant, 
 taking it seriously, presented Kitchener with a pot 
 of apple-jelly for which he could find no purchaser. 
 Kitchener was more pleased with that than all the 
 other newly acquired possessions. 
 
 This story reminds me of another in connection with 
 the same Greek merchant during that identical visit 
 to the troops. The relation to whom I have already 
 referred bought a small looking-glass as an aid to 
 shaving off some of the overgrowth of the campaign. 
 Lord Airlie of the loth Hussars going into his tent 
 picked it up, examining himself carefully and critically 
 from right to left for some moments, then addressing 
 himself, said, '' Well, David, haven't seen you for some 
 time now, had quite forgotten what an ugly beggar 
 you are.'' I can well imagine Lord Airlie 's feelings 
 when he beheld in the glass his scrubby beard, and red 
 blistered face compared with the neat and well- 
 groomed reflection he had last seen. Poor " David," 
 as his intimate friends in the regiment called him, died 
 at Diamond Hill, Pretoria, in 1900. There could never 
 have been any difliculty about identifying him, as 
 nearly the whole of the upper part of his body was 
 covered with his coat-of-arms tattooed. When I was 
 told of this I thought what a pity it was such a work 
 of art should be hidden from view. 
 
 Lord Airlie and I had some great arguments in 
 Lucknow about the advisability of soldiers marrying. 
 He said it was a mistake, that a man lost interest in his 
 profession, and wives persuaded their men to retire 
 from the Army just when they were growing useful. 
 I did not agree with him, and was amused a little later 
 to find he had taken unto himself a wife while still in 
 the service. 
 
200 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Another story of Lord Kitchener, this time in 
 South Africa. I have forgotten the exact details, but 
 this was the gist of it. I presume it must have been in 
 some mess. 
 
 A young and joyous subaltern, seeing Lord 
 Kitchener's cap, helmet, or whichever it may have 
 been, on the table, its owner being elsewhere, put it 
 on his own head and proceeded to amuse the rest of 
 the occupants of the room or tent by swaggering 
 about pretending to be Kitchener, all in good part, 
 but of course exaggerating any little peculiarities or 
 habits, his audience rocking with laughter at a 
 wigging being addressed to them from the would-be 
 Kitchener. Meanwhile the real Lord Kitchener had 
 returned in person to look for his cap. Seeing it on the 
 head of the cheeky young subaltern, he quickly put 
 the cap belonging to the acting youth upon his head, 
 it being some sizes too small for the General, and 
 waited until the pantomime should be over. Suddenly 
 the laughter ceased and all the faces grew long, for they 
 had discovered the smiling face of the Chief looking 
 at them round the door with a rakish-looking cap 
 perched on one side of his head. Could it be possible 
 this was the strict and rather alarming commanding 
 officer, looking as if he had been out for the night on 
 a spree ? 
 
 A brother-officer who was in the Engineers with 
 Lord Kitchener when first he joined, writing a short 
 time ago about him, said, *' He was not regarded as 
 clever or forceful in character as a young man in my 
 batch, but, of course, developed later. ... A little 
 interview I had with K. when he was at home on leave 
 from the Governorship of Suakim seemed to me to 
 reveal the development of his character. I was 
 lunching at the Junior United Services Club when he 
 came up and shook hands with me. After a time I 
 asked him how he liked being at home, something of 
 a ' lion,' rather feted and so forth. 
 
 *'*It is pleasant enough for a time,' he replied, 
 ' but to tell the truth I like to be in a place where, 
 
LORD KITCHENER 201 
 
 when I am called in the morning my man says to me, 
 ''Is it your Highnesses will that the world shall go 
 round as usual to-day/' and I reply, *' Yes,'' where- 
 upon he says, '' Your Highness's word shall be obeyed," 
 and it is so/ K. said this with a pleasant smile at 
 himself/' 
 
 I once saw Lord Kitchener look really frightened. 
 He had come to call on me one afternoon in town and 
 found me in the middle of a game of soldiers with 
 a small son. We had cleared one of the tables in the 
 drawing-room, set up many tin soldiers, and were 
 firing with cannon and peas. Each had large armies 
 and obligingly fired at one another in turns. In the 
 midst of a heavy bombardment Lord Kitchener was 
 announced, he looked on for a short time and then 
 I persuaded him to take my army and fight my son. 
 He declared he could not fight unless we let him have 
 the camel corps which had fallen to my son's share 
 when we drew lots for the soldiers. We let him have 
 them, and learnt a lesson in placing our men so that 
 one pea did not throw a whole regiment on their 
 faces. 
 
 It amused me to watch this long-legged soldier 
 shooting peas out of cannon at tin soldiers and looking 
 as if he enjoyed it. I suddenly heard more callers 
 coming upstairs ; my son heard them at the same time 
 and said, *' Oh, bother, mother, there are more people 
 coming to call, shall we have to stop our game ? " 
 Lord Kitchener looked scared at being caught playing 
 soldiers and jumped up saying he must be moving on; 
 but it was too late, the handle of the door rattled and 
 without more ado he plunged headlong into a heavy 
 velvet curtain that hung between the two drawing- 
 rooms, making himself a prisoner, as there was no door 
 out of the far room except through the one we occupied. 
 
 I had the greatest difficulty in greeting my friends 
 demurely, indeed I think I must have had a most 
 irritating grin on my visage most of the time they 
 were with me. When the servants brought the 
 tea and went through the curtain for the table I was 
 
202 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 prepared for a debacle of some sort, but all that hap- 
 pened was a sound as if a hiccup had gone astray from 
 the butler. 
 
 From my son's face I could plainly see he was only 
 awaiting a lull in the conversation to ask why Lord 
 Kitchener was hiding, so I chattered incessantly, 
 leaving no lull, and to make it more safe told my boy 
 to go and have his tea and then come back and finish 
 the game. How glad I was I had taught him he must 
 never interrupt grown-up people when they were 
 talking. 
 
 After what seemed an age my guests departed and 
 Lord Kitchener emerged, still looking frightened. 
 I asked him, amidst the laughter I was trying to 
 control, why he had bolted ? He said he did not know, 
 but thought it must have been because he was so 
 upset at being caught playing with soldiers and had 
 lost his head ! By degrees he recovered and joined in 
 my amusement. 
 
 There is another story I promised faithfully I would 
 never give away, but now as both the men who were 
 actors in the comedy are, alas ! gone, perhaps I may 
 not be doing wrong in relating it. 
 
 There was a lady in Cairo who had a great dislike to 
 Lord Kitchener, and never lost an opportunity of 
 running him down. She was under the impression he 
 had tried to harm her socially : he in return had no 
 tender feelings towards her, indeed I have heard them 
 very rude to one another. 
 
 On Sundays the English Church was well attended by 
 all the British Community in Cairo. On the particular 
 Sunday of which I am writing, Lord Kitchener was 
 three pews ahead of me and sitting in the end seat next 
 the aisle. Sir Gerald Portal was one pew ahead and 
 sitting next the aisle also. The service had just begun 
 
 when Mrs. , Lord Kitchener's pet aversion, 
 
 swaggered up, all sails set. As she passed where I was 
 sitting she dropped her chignon, but sailed on quite 
 unaware of her loss until she sat down in her pew and 
 put up her hand to adjust her bonnet, which missed 
 
LORD KITCHENER 203 
 
 its support. Not finding all she was accustomed to, 
 both hands went up to search about, then scarlet in the 
 face she turned round and glared at us all as if we had 
 robbed her of it. She now arose from her seat, put 
 up her parasol and, holding it over her head, marched 
 out of church, looking right and left as she went, in 
 hopes of seeing the missing coiffure : but Sir Gerald 
 had witnessed its fall and quickly swept out one of his 
 long legs, hitched it into his pew and kicked it under 
 the seat almost at my feet. As she passed him going 
 out of church he looked tenderly into her face as much 
 as to say, ''I hope you are not feeling indisposed/' 
 and as if butter would not melt in his mouth. He had 
 been so quick I do not think anybody but myself had 
 observed his action, and until the lady began groping 
 round her neck and shoulders for the missing article 
 no one knew anything was wrong. When she put up 
 her parasol, however, there was no doubt something 
 was very wrong, as it is not usual in church. 
 
 When Sir Gerald went his tour round the church 
 with the offertory plate, I saw him shuffle the chignon 
 on the end of his boot into Lord Kitchener's pew and 
 continue gravely round the church. It was evident 
 that Lord Kitchener was unaware of there being any- 
 thing unusual in his immediate neighbourhood, and 
 at the end of the service we all trooped out and stood 
 
 chatting outside for a few minutes. Mrs. was 
 
 outside the church with her parasol held well down to 
 keep the sun off ; she was waiting until the service was 
 over to look for something she had dropped when she 
 had to leave the church feeling faint ! While she was 
 explaining this to me Sir Gerald told Lord Kitchener 
 that someone had said he (Lord Kitchener) had left 
 something on his seat in the church. Gerry then 
 hurried away for fear of being sent to look for whatever 
 it was. Thus it happened that Lord Kitchener 
 arrived in his pew first to search for what he had left 
 behind, followed quickly by his pet aversion. What 
 happened we were never told, both maintained 
 a dignified silence about the incident, but it was 
 
204 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 observed they never spoke to one another again, and 
 when she was speaking of Lord Kitchener a little later 
 called him a '' contemptible person/' Lord Kitchener 
 said she ought to be shut up ! Rather like a game of 
 consequences ; and the world thought they had 
 quarrelled. 
 
 Sir Gerald played his part so well that I do not 
 think Lord Kitchener ever guessed the extent of his 
 share in the mischief, and I faithfully kept my promise 
 not to give him away, until now. 
 
 The two men who made Egypt were the late Lord 
 Cromer and Lord Kitchener. The former arrived in 
 the country with an established, brilliant reputation, 
 the latter as a little-known lieutenant of Engineers, 
 yet he seemed to have been made for the country, he 
 understood the people and sympathised with all their 
 superstitions and fanaticism, and undoubtedly had a 
 great influence over them. I could not say they loved 
 him, but they showed him respect and trust, tempered 
 with a wholesome fear. 
 
 The Soudanese have much to thank him for. He 
 delivered them from a horrible tyranny and said that 
 during the time he was reorganising the entire 
 administration, he saw such shocking cruelties in- 
 flicted by the Mahdi's troops that he ever afterwards 
 carried about with him a little powder of virulent 
 poison to enable him to put an end to himself quickly 
 if ever he should be unlucky enough to fall into the 
 Mahdi's hands. Not many years before his death I 
 asked him if he still carried the poison with him, and 
 he showed me a tiny little fiat envelope made of oiled 
 paper lying inside the case of his watch, and another 
 in his letter-case. He said probably both had long 
 lost their savour, but they had been his companions 
 for so long he could not make up his mind to throw 
 them away. 
 
 There was much criticism and heart-burning when 
 Lord Kitchener was appointed Sirdar through the 
 influence of Lord Cromer, who, caring nothing for 
 criticism, knew he had put his hand on the right man 
 
LORD KITCHENER 205 
 
 to reconquer the Soudan. There was another popular 
 officer who considered he had prior claims, he said 
 little himself about his disappointment, but his friends 
 voiced his grievances for him. 
 
 When Sir Ian Hamilton returned from South Africa, 
 he said it was a pleasure to work under such a chief 
 as Lord Kitchener. I think the latter might have said 
 the same of Lord Cromer, for he played loyally into his 
 hands from 1876 when he was lieutenant to 191 1 as 
 British Agent. 
 
 I have always wished poor Gordon could have known 
 how whole-heartedly Kitchener worked to relieve him, 
 he would then have felt and written less bitterly. 
 
 My mind travels back to the day in January, 1884, 
 when Gordon left England at the request of the 
 British Government, to try once more to save the 
 Egyptians from the hands of the revolting natives, to 
 clear and proclaim the country under Egyptian rule. 
 I can see him now as I saw him then, standing by 
 the railway-carriage door at Charing Cross Station, 
 pleased and happy, with implicit faith in his country- 
 men to see him through. A number of people had come 
 to wish him God-speed and shake hands in faithful 
 friendship. The Duke of Cambridge, rotund and 
 cheery, was to be seen talking to the square-figured 
 little fanatic. Everybody wanted to do something for 
 him. Lord Granville, at that time Foreign Secretary, 
 brushed imaginary dust from off Gordon's coat collar, 
 and almost ran to take his ticket before anybody else 
 should think of doing it. Sir Garnet Wolseley carried 
 his bag. 
 
 My young brother bought him enough papers and 
 magazines to fill a seat in the carriage. 
 
 How often the poor man must have remembered 
 that send-off, when he was deserted ; how bitterly he 
 must have thought of some of those old friends. 
 
 That several times in his life Lord Kitchener had 
 some bitter and mortifying moments no one who 
 knew him can doubt. I know there were times when 
 he thought his best endeavours for the good of the 
 
2o6 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Army in particular and the country in general had 
 not met with the acknowledgment they deserved. 
 I do not think he ever realised that he was difficult 
 and at times almost impossible to work with. He felt 
 it very keenly that posts of importance and trust he 
 could have filled went begging. 
 
 On his return from India, where he had been Com- 
 mander-in-Chief, he said he felt deeply that he should 
 be standing idle when he saw so much of great import- 
 ance waiting to be done. 
 
 To my lay mind, I told him, it did not seem as if 
 there were many posts that he could be asked to fill 
 after having been such an exalted person. In reply to 
 this he mentioned one or two he considered would have 
 been suitable ; he might have been offered the Vice- 
 royalty of India, though he would not have cared 
 for it ; he thought he might have been useful in the 
 War Office, or better still British Agent in Egypt, 
 adding, *'The fact is I am considered an old fogy now, 
 and no more good, and they do not want fogies either 
 here or abroad apparently." 
 
 Shortly after this discussion my eye fell on an 
 announcement in The Morning Post that the post of 
 High Commissioner and Commander-in-Chief in the 
 Mediterranean had been offered to him. I felt sorry 
 and uncomfortable, knowing what he would feel at 
 being offered a post the Duke of Connaught had given 
 up because there was not enough to do ; and I was not 
 surprised to hear he had declined it and gone for a tour 
 round the world. 
 
 I asked a friend who is well up in military matters 
 and holds high office why Lord Kitchener was not 
 retained for the War Office, which seemed the place of 
 all others where he might be wanted. The reply was, 
 *' We are all frightened of him, his determined arm 
 might sweep us all off our chairs and leave us either 
 out in the cold or on very uncertain shelves." 
 
 In July, 1914, when what Lord Roberts and Lord 
 Kitchener had so long prophesied came to pass. 
 Kitchener was actually on his way back to his beloved 
 
LORD KITCHENER 207 
 
 Egypt when he was recalled. He considered it his 
 duty to stay and do his best at home, but he most 
 bitterly regretted not being able to return to Cairo. 
 
 I have wondered many times that he should have 
 been so hard on any signs of waywardness or lack of 
 discipline in those under him, considering it was one 
 of his own grave faults. He is supposed to have run 
 away from Woolwich and joined General Chazy's Army 
 of the Loire ; this is in fact not quite correct, he had 
 already left the " Shop,'' as it is called, and he enlisted 
 in the French Army between that time and joining the 
 Royal Engineers at Chatham. In his youth he 
 acknowledged he defied all authority ; if he wished to 
 do a thing he did it, regardless of who might say him 
 nay, also of the consequences. He maintained that 
 some of the most useful lessons of his life were learnt 
 while with the French Army. 
 
 He saw the army from the soldier's point of view, 
 learnt that they do not resent hard work, hardships, 
 discipline, rules or regulations, but most bitterly 
 incompetence in their officers, unnecessary privations 
 brought about through it, and injustice in any form. 
 
 During Lord Kitchener's career his life was several 
 times in jeopardy. Lord Wolseley saved him once, 
 one of his staff another time ; yet after his many 
 escapes he lost his life close to our own shores. When 
 the dreadful news reached us on June 7th our breath 
 was taken away, we could not believe it. My own 
 thoughts flew back to the day I first saw him in Cairo. 
 When we lose old friends we always seem to remember 
 them as we knew them in their youth. In a measure 
 I was glad that he died when he did, though not in the 
 way fate decreed. The reason why I was glad was 
 because there were already some heavy clouds hanging 
 over his head ready to burst, and it would have been 
 painful to see him torn limb from limb after so many 
 years of useful work. 
 
 I should have liked him to die in Egypt, where he 
 was happy and appreciated, and I know he would have 
 liked it himself, for there his heart was enshrined. 
 
2o8 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 It is curious the stories that are floating about 
 concerning his death, some people believe firmly that 
 he is still alive and will turn up again in the flesh when 
 the war is over ; these rumours often collect round any- 
 one that has died, so that it is not possible to collect 
 circumstantial evidence and place witnesses in the 
 box under cross-examination to prove it. There are 
 still people who believe General Hector Macdonald is 
 alive, and we all remember the Druce case. 
 
 Lord Kitchener always kept a couple of cars stand- 
 ing outside the War Office day and night — in readiness 
 to be jumped into at a moment's notice. The day 
 before his last fateful journey, as he was walking into 
 his office, he saw one of his chauffeurs standing near. 
 He stopped and spoke to the man, saying, '' You are 
 married, are you not ? " The reply being in the affirma- 
 tive. Lord Kitchener continued, *' Then I will not take 
 you with me to-morrow, I will take Broome instead.'' 
 So Broome and his car went with their master — and 
 will be seen no more until the sea gives up her dead. 
 
 I doubt if anybody thoroughly understood Lord 
 Kitchener, or if he understood himself. He has often 
 been harshly judged. I have heard him called mean, 
 yet his hospitality, both in India and Egypt, was 
 memorable. I have heard him called hard and un- 
 sympathetic, even the gifted G. W. Steevens writing 
 from Egypt referred to him, saying, '' His precision is 
 so inhumanly unerring, he is more like a machine than 
 a man." Someone else, I forget who, said he ought to 
 be made '' Manager of the Army and Navy Stores," 
 in consequence, I presume, of his organising powers and 
 mathematical mind. 
 
 Yet I doubt if any man who is fond of and kind to 
 animals can be hard, unsympathetic. Kitchener was 
 kind and gentle with his horses, though not a great 
 horseman, and when in South Africa a pet bird was ill, 
 he thought it was moping for want of a mate and tried 
 hard to find one for it, though it was at a time when 
 he was overwhelmed with work. 
 
 After the memorial service at Khartoum he could 
 
LORD KITCHENER 209 
 
 not trust himself to speak ; again after the victory at 
 Atbara he was in contrasting mood, laughed, cheered 
 and ran about shaking hands with everybody. Can we 
 justly call this man hard and unsympathetic ? 
 
 That he was deeply religious I know. I had several 
 opportunities of judging this. Once in Cairo I had 
 crept out of Shepheard's Hotel in the early morning 
 when few were astir and gone to the little English 
 church for the early service. In front of me knelt Lord 
 Kitchener. He liked to begin each day with prayer and, 
 if possible, in God's House. 
 
 I thought in later years that the wall he built 
 around himself, the reserve and silence with which he 
 fortified himself, the splendid isolation he had created, 
 refraining from intimate human companionship, had 
 become painful to him. In a way he resented it ; he 
 felt something was wanting, that he was not necessary 
 to anybody's happiness, and, while congratulating 
 himself on his few obhgations, felt lonely without 
 them. 
 
 Losing his mother quite early in life had been a 
 blow to him. I think that the amenities of home life 
 have much to do with the making of fine men. I have 
 always felt the one thing wanting for Lord Kitchener's 
 happiness was someone to be devoted to him, someone 
 he knew would be proud of him. Gratitude was a 
 marked feature in his character. He never forgot 
 even the smallest service rendered to him. He was 
 certainly careful in money matters, yet loved collecting 
 curios for the day when he should retire from responsi- 
 biUties, fighting and strife, to settle down for a 
 peaceful autumn and winter of his life, surrounded 
 with all his collected treasures, china, curios and 
 antiques, from all ends of the world. He had begun 
 the arranging of them, a work of great pleasure, in his 
 new home, Broome Park, near Canterbury, which he 
 bought in 191 1. He had been busy planning his new 
 gardens to be filled with his favourite flowers, 
 geraniums, when war broke out, and all had to be left 
 for happier times, not vouchsafed to him here. 
 
210 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 I am glad he lived long enough to see the British 
 Army raised to the same scale as Continental armies. 
 I wonder if Wellington could have called for 1,000,000 
 men and got them as Kitchener did in 1914 ? 
 
 I shall always carry in my heart a warm corner for 
 Lord Kitchener. He was a kind friend to me, and no 
 matter how busy he was, no letter asking for his 
 advice or help was ever left unanswered. Very shortly, 
 in fact only a few weeks, before his death I received 
 a letter from him full of kindliness and sympathy, 
 when my son came home from Flanders, probably 
 winged for life. 
 
 India is congratulating itself on having a memorial 
 of Lord Kitchener in the statue of him mounted on 
 Lord William Beresford's old race-horse '* Democrat." 
 
 A great and brave man on a good and plucky 
 horse. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 SOME EGYPTIAN EXPERIENCES 
 
 A Train on Fire — A Missionary Tries to Save Me — Uses a Soda-water 
 Syphon as an Extinguisher — Lost Shoes — Blistered Feet — Un- 
 dignified Entry into Alexandria — How a Bath was Secured — Mr. 
 Melton Prior Amuses Us — He is Angry — My Double — Mr. Moberly 
 Bell — I Blossom Out as a War Correspondent — Mr, Moberly Bell 
 Interviewed — His Prophecy — His Death. 
 
 /I MONGST other Egyptian experiences I include 
 
 L\ a railway accident, which sounds alarming, 
 jL jL, but was really amusing, except for the fact 
 that it inconvenienced a train -load of sick soldiers 
 on their way to what I believe they now term 
 " Blighty/' 
 
 I was on my way from Cairo to Alexandria to meet 
 my husband, who was on a troopship coming from 
 India on the way home, and our train-load of sick was 
 to be picked up at our destination, Alexandria. 
 
 Various kind friends came to see me off from Cairo, 
 and the people I had been staying with provided me 
 with a large luncheon-basket full of good things for 
 the journey, cold chicken, sandwiches, tomatoes, dates, 
 a syphon of soda-water and other dainties. 
 
 The train was full owing to the number of sick 
 soldiers, so Gerry Portal, who was amongst those come 
 to see me off, asked one of the railway officials whom 
 he knew if he would allow me to travel in his, the 
 officiars, reserved compartment. He kindly con- 
 sented, and also took pity on a frantic missionary 
 running up and down the platform unable to find 
 room anywhere. 
 
 The official was introduced to me and I found him 
 exceedingly kind and pleasant, but I regret to say I 
 have forgotten his name, and was never quite clear 
 
 211 
 
212 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 whether he was manager of the railway, chairman, or 
 what ? But an authority, at any rate, and if he is 
 ahve now I again thank him for all his kindness on that 
 occasion, and ask his permission to call him Mr. A. 
 for the moment. 
 
 I had been feeling ill for some time, so made up my 
 mind as soon as the train started I would lie down and 
 try to sleep. 
 
 After many tender good-byes and the usual number 
 of *' Take care of yourselfs,'' we steamed out of the 
 station. The day was hot and after a little polite 
 conversation we all settled down to snooze. I lay full 
 length down one side of the compartment. At my 
 feet sat the missionary dozing, opposite Mr. A., doing 
 the same. The luncheon-basket on the rack above the 
 seat opposite to me. As soon as my companions began 
 nodding I quickly kicked off my shoes underneath my 
 dust-sheet covering and dozed also. How long we had 
 been in dreamland I do not know exactly, when Mr. 
 A. jumped up saying the carriage was on fire. This 
 appeared to be true enough, smoke was issuing in 
 some volume under the sleeping missionary. Mr. A. 
 shook him, while assuring me there was no occasion to 
 be frightened ; he could easily stop the train and all 
 would be well. With this in view he put his head out 
 of the carriage window, waved his white handkerchief 
 and began shouting to the engine driver, two coach- 
 lengths away. I sat up and began to look for my 
 shoes preparatory to getting out ; the missionary was 
 just alive to the fact that something was wrong and 
 was making for me with arms outstretched, saying 
 excitedly, " Oh, I must save you, I must save you.'' 
 
 I was vaguely wondering how putting his arms 
 round me was going to save me when the whole 
 carriage went down on one side where the missionary 
 had been sitting, and I was shot down violently on 
 top of him, while on top of me came the luncheon- 
 basket, which had burst open, hurling the chicken 
 into one corner, tomatoes here, there, and everywhere. 
 The missionary was now really excited. Seeing a 
 
SOME EGYPTIAN EXPERIENCES 213 
 
 soda-water syphon rolling about he seized it and began 
 diligently squirting me and the fire. Poor Mr. A., 
 who had nearly fallen out of the window as the 
 carriage subsided, and had just wriggled himself back 
 into the compartment and turned to tell us he had 
 attracted the driver's attention and all would be well, 
 when he was deprived of speech and breath by a 
 forceful stream of soda-water from the syphon full in 
 Ms face. The parson was still trying to save us by 
 putting out the fire. The syphon was taken from him, 
 not that it mattered now as it was empty. 
 
 The train stopped, the men jumped out on the high 
 side of the carriage and I jumped after them, but 
 without my shoes. I could not find them, probably 
 they were amongst the things on the burning side of 
 the coach. I know the chicken was ; I smelt it. We 
 made all haste to get the sick and wounded occupants 
 out of the rest of the coach and laid them down on the 
 sandhills until we could pack them away somewhere 
 amongst the other carriages. The burning coach was 
 uncoupled, then thrown off the line, and the rest re- 
 coupled. While this was being done we rearranged 
 the sick soldiers, who were very worried at the delay, 
 fearing the troopship might go on without them. 
 
 Everybody behaved very well, and the soldiers 
 most patient. I wished the parson had not used up 
 the soda-water as the men felt the heat and exposure, 
 wanting water or something to drink badly. The 
 missionary worked really well, and was most helpful 
 in lifting and carrying the soldiers, but even in such 
 exciting moments I could not help feeling amused, for 
 at intervals he kept bursting into song. He would 
 throw back his chest, brace himself up, hitch at his 
 shirt-sleeves and nether garments (his coat had been 
 thrown on to a sandhill), then as he stooped down to 
 take one end of a stretcher or railway-seat cushion 
 occupied by a sick soldier he would indulge in song. 
 One moment I gathered he was '' Far from his 
 Heavenly Home,'' at another he was going to '' Arise 
 and go," I did not catch where to. 
 
214 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 At last all was in order once more and we moved on 
 towards Alexandria, hoping to be in time to catch the 
 transport. We were now seated in the luggage van on 
 top of all sorts of queer-looking, queer-shaped boxes 
 and bundles. I wished so much we could move a 
 little faster. We were travelling, as we had done the 
 whole journey, very deliberately ; but I feared if I 
 made any remark on our speed the official might 
 consider it a personal matter. We were on a single 
 line and very few trains were running, so there really 
 had been very little risk either of collision or from 
 excessive speed, the only thing that mattered was the 
 discomfort and delay for the sick. 
 
 While the three of us were perched on various 
 pinnacles of baggage we examined our wounds. The 
 parson's hand was bleeding but he smiled sweetly and 
 could not say how it happened. The official put on 
 his coat, mopped his brow and heaved sighs of relief, 
 while I looked in dismay at my indecent, shoeless feet, 
 now much blistered, and my silk stockings full of holes. 
 Running about on the hot sand had not agreed with 
 them. After a rueful glance at them hanging down over 
 a pile of soldiers' bundles, I looked up and caught the 
 eye of Mr. A. For a moment he became rigid as he 
 glanced from my feet to my face, and my face to my 
 feet, then the utter absurdity of the whole situation 
 seized us simultaneously, and we became inarticulate 
 with laughter. He began something about '' so 
 sorry " and could get no further, had to stop and 
 wipe away his tears. I began '' I lost them " and 
 could get no further. The parson did not know what 
 amused us but was sure it was very funny and laughed 
 too. 
 
 In time we overcame our mirth and began explana- 
 tions. There had been no time before. We were all 
 so busy. The situation had burst upon us so suddenly, 
 calling for prompt action. Mr. A. explained some part 
 of the mechanism of the train, connected, I think, 
 with the wheels, got hot and set fire to the woodwork 
 of the coach, which caused the disaster. I assured my 
 
SOME EGYPTIAN EXPERIENCES 215 
 
 newly-found friend that I really was in the habit of 
 wearing shoes or boots and verily and indeed had 
 some on when I started. The parson explained how 
 anxious he had been to save us body and soul. None 
 of us made any allusion to the soda-water syphon. 
 
 I feared my entry into Alexandria to greet my 
 husband would not be dignified with my feet tied up 
 in pocket handkerchiefs, but when the moment 
 arrived I had no time to think about it, as the troop- 
 ship was waiting and the men had to be taken on 
 board as quickly as possible. For some time I ran 
 about with my feet tied up in pocket handkerchiefs, 
 but they worked loose and got in my way, tripping me 
 up, so I pulled them off and ran about in what was 
 left of my stockings. However, all is well that ends 
 well, and the sick men sailed away for home. 
 
 I could not bring myself to journey home on a troop- 
 ship. My husband gave me such horrifying accounts 
 of the discomforts for ladies, and told me of such 
 fierce quarrels amongst the women on board, that I 
 decided to return by a passenger steamer a little later. 
 I never saw the missionary again, and do not know 
 where he went to, but had the pleasure of introducing 
 Mr. A. to my husband, who thanked him for his kind 
 care of me. I then returned to Cairo for a time until 
 I could get a passage on a P. & O. After waiting some 
 time and being unable to secure a berth, I decided to 
 go by a smaller, cheaper line which shall be nameless, 
 for its discomforts were great, and the provision of 
 food small. 
 
 Happily a number of people I knew were coming 
 home on the same steamer as far as Marseilles, all of 
 whom had been soldiering at the front, amongst them 
 Colonel Stanley Clarke, Lord Hay of Kinfauns, Mr. 
 Melton Prior, Mr. Walter Ingram and Colonel 
 Harrington. 
 
 We discovered there was only one bath on the ship, 
 and that one repulsive. I made many attempts to 
 secure it but always found it occupied and a queue of 
 people waiting their turn. My endeavours had been 
 
2i6 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 observed, for one evening when I was sitting reading, 
 Lord Hay came up to me saying they had been 
 arranging between them how to keep the bath for me 
 and proposed that I should get up very early. They 
 would come and knock at my cabin door, one knock ; 
 and I must get ready to fly off when a double knock 
 came. Five of them were going to stand outside the 
 bathroom door as if waiting their turn. I was then to 
 walk up calmly in front of them and usurp the leader's 
 place, walk into the bathroom and leave them 
 ejaculating. This little scheme worked splendidly. 
 
 There were days in my life when, to '' run the 
 gauntlet " of all these men and the many others 
 awaiting their turn, would have been impossible to me 
 in my demi-toilet, my hair all piled on top of my head 
 out of the way ; but after travelling about the world 
 for a while one learns how this sort of self -consciousness 
 makes everybody uncomfortable and creates awkward 
 situations out of what is meant for kindness, besides 
 who cares what you look like ? 
 
 Mr. Melton Prior kept us amused on this voyage 
 with his funny stories, mostly against himself, highly 
 coloured on purpose, to entertain us, I think. One 
 day at luncheon, which by the way consisted of 
 ** bouillon " according to the menu, but according to 
 Mr. Prior it was the water they had washed the dishes 
 in, the only other alternative being sardines and 
 bread. But now for the story. Mr. Prior wished us to 
 believe that on one occasion, when the Battle of 
 Tamai was at its height, he became frightened. He 
 had lost his head covering and he feared the baldness 
 of his cranium might form a target for the enemy, so 
 determined to run away. This he carried out, running 
 as fast as his legs would take him, until he thought he 
 must be out of danger's way, finding this was not the 
 case he hid his head in the sand. As that did not help 
 him much, and shells were playing little games around 
 him, he came to the conclusion that the middle of the 
 square was the best place for him and ran all the way 
 back again. 
 
SOME EGYPTIAN EXPERIENCES 217 
 
 None of us believed a word of it but we were 
 grateful to him for amusing us. 
 
 I only once saw Mr. Prior angry. At Shepheard's 
 Hotel in Cairo, a lady who did not know him to speak 
 to, came up while we were conversing, saying, '* Mr. 
 Prior, I think ? " he bowed and said he believed so, 
 or something to that effect ; she then said, " I wish, 
 Mr. Prior, you would draw a little picture for me, I 
 should so value it. I have a collection of autographs 
 and I want you to draw a nice little picture for me to 
 go with them, a battle scene I would like best." 
 
 I was very much amused, not so Mr. Prior, he 
 glared at her without speaking, then turned to me 
 still glaring through his spectacles and said out aloud 
 so that she could hear, '* That is the way we get shot, 
 Mrs. , did you ever hear anything like it ? " 
 
 I tried to turn it off by saying we would all like to 
 have some of his drawings, and no doubt he was weary 
 of being asked for them. I think the lady scented 
 danger, she looked a little uncomfortable but put her 
 head on one side looking archly at the, for the moment, 
 unappreciative glaring Mr. Prior and said in a simper- 
 ing voice, *' I know you will, here is my name and 
 address, I shall wait anxiously for it ! " 
 
 I took the opportunity to move hurriedly away and 
 speak to Mrs. Gramshaw standing near, but kept one 
 eye on Mr. Prior. He stood for a moment after the 
 woman left him, then dropped the card on which she 
 had written her address and scrubbed it up and down 
 on the steps of the hotel with his boot, then walked 
 away talking to himself. It was such an astonishing 
 piece of impertinence, I wondered he did not see the 
 ridiculous side of the request. 
 
 The Mrs. Gramshaw referred to above was supposed 
 to be my double. I could not see the likeness ; neither 
 could she, but at a party we were giving at the Lyric 
 Club, when in Bond Street, some friends of my 
 brother's he had asked me to invite, and whom I had 
 met for the first time that evening, went up to her to 
 say good night and thanked her in the usual stereo- 
 
2i8 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 typed phrases for a pleasant evening, thinking of 
 course it was I. Another time, one of my friends 
 walked down Regent Street after her into the flower- 
 shop she had entered and where she was making 
 purchases, not finding out his mistake until he heard 
 her voice, then bolted out again before betraying 
 himself. 
 
 The Egyptian campaign was in the palmy days of 
 the war correspondents. Melton Prior, Moberly Bell, 
 Archibald Forbes and Cameron, are still famous names 
 from that wonderful little band that went everywhere 
 and saw everything with the armies of Europe in a 
 way that is never permitted now. 
 
 It was in Egypt I first met Mr. Moberly Bell, 
 correspondent to The Times. He had come back from 
 the front with a crushed foot and a broken ankle, 
 suffering a good deal of pain ; and worried about his 
 work. I said to him one day, *' I wish I could help 
 you, don't you think perhaps I could ? '* He smiled 
 his kind, benevolent smile and replied, ''It is very 
 kind of you, have you ever written anything for any 
 paper ? '' I replied, " No, but I would like to." He 
 then said, '' Will you write something for me to see ? 
 say one thousand words on any subject you like.'' 
 I pressed him to name one, so he answered, *' The 
 present political situation ; Necessity is the mother of 
 invention; anything." I answered, ''Very well," and 
 went off to my room to see what I could do. 
 
 After an hour's mastication of the end of my pen, 
 an essay of one thousand words on " Necessity being 
 the mother of invention " was sent on its way to 
 Mr. Bell. When I saw the invalid the next day he 
 was kind enough to tell me my effort was " excellent." 
 He then and there gave me a bundle of telegrams and 
 some documents he wanted written up, giving me an 
 idea of his views. When I had finished what he wished 
 written he went through the manuscripts, making 
 what corrections he thought necessary, and away they 
 went. I loved the work and delighted in Mr. Bell. 
 He was so well-informed, gracious and withal full of 
 
SOME EGYPTIAN EXPERIENCES 219 
 
 imagination. In those days he had a big beard which 
 suited him admirably. When he shaved it off later, it 
 entirely altered his appearance, and was not an 
 improvement. It was sad to see that great, fine, 
 handsome man tied by the leg for so long, and I was 
 glad to be able to help him even in a small measure. 
 What struck me most, when first I saw him, was the 
 benevolence of his expression and his courteous 
 manners, he might have been an ambassador. 
 
 The day came all too soon when I had to say good- 
 bye to Egypt and all my kind friends and return home. 
 I hardly knew how much I had enjoyed my writing 
 until the moment came when I had to give it up. 
 
 After my return to England I received a very nice 
 note from Mr. Bell telling me he missed my help and 
 enclosing what he called a small cheque (in return for 
 my work) which perhaps would come in useful for 
 some of my charities. This was the first and last time 
 I ever received a cheque for services rendered as a 
 war correspondent ! It was for £60. I did not con- 
 sider the cheque small at all, but newspaper pro- 
 prietors I suppose deal with such large sums, it seemed 
 small to him. 
 
 Mrs. Moberly Bell, who is still living, tells me she 
 remembers her husband telling her about me and my 
 writing. 
 
 Poor Mr. Bell, he was very patient with that bad 
 foot, and suffered a good deal. It kept him a prisoner 
 in hospital four months, and had no less than twenty- 
 two separate operations on it, yet he would not allow 
 a word of his misfortune to reach his wife, she being ill 
 at home, and he feared she would try and reach him, 
 which would make her much worse, so she was left 
 with the impression that he had a sprained ankle, about 
 which he wrote cheerfully. 
 
 Born in Alexandria in 1847 and having been in an 
 Egyptian mercantile firm there for some years, Mr. 
 Bell was well versed in the geography of the country 
 and the habits of the people. This, combined with his 
 knowledge of Arabic, made him very useful in Egypt. 
 
220 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 He was on the Condor with Lord Beresford during the 
 bombardment, and said he thoroughly enjoyed it. 
 When the blue-jackets landed he acted as interpreter 
 for them. He was also constantly with the troops in 
 their different encounters near Ramleh. 
 
 One of the plucky things he did during those 
 troublous times I am told was to shut himself in a 
 village where cholera was raging because the Govern- 
 ment had cor donned it. No supplies could get in, the 
 inhabitants being in danger of starvation, but by being 
 inside he could send telegrams more effectually until 
 the cordon was removed ; this was in 1883. 
 
 In 1890 Mr. Bell returned to England to help Mr. 
 Walter in the management of The Times in London, 
 still lame from the crushed foot and ankle. This 
 prevented him taking much exercise or enjoying out- 
 door amusements ; he now became more than ever an 
 omniverous reader and wrote almost unceasingly. 
 He was a determined man with a remarkably active 
 brain. When I asked him what was his favourite 
 amusement or recreation, he answered, '* Work." It 
 will be remembered The Times Atlas was the result of 
 some of this favourite recreation, also The History of 
 the South African War. 
 
 The establishment of the Times Book Club in 1905 
 was the work of the same brain, and caused a con- 
 siderable flutter in the publishing and book-selling 
 dovecotes. He, thought the people of this country did 
 not read enough and wished for books to be brought 
 within the reach of everyone. There has been an 
 enormous development in the book-selling trade in the 
 last few years before the war, so perhaps he was 
 right. 
 
 Mr. Bell's religious views were interesting. Dogma 
 was abhorrent to him, also anything in the shape of 
 priestcraft, yet he was not irreligious, but rather 
 interested in all religions and in the various develop- 
 ments of them. By nature sceptical and keenly 
 critical. 
 
 His views on the present situation as expressed by 
 
SOME EGYPTIAN EXPERIENCES 221 
 
 him in September, 1909, in an interview which was 
 printed in The San Francisco Chronicle is of interest. 
 After giving Lord NorthcHffe's views on the poHtical 
 situation in Europe he continued : '* I do not think 
 there is any doubt that there will be a war between 
 Great Britain and Germany before long. The situa- 
 tion is very much as a French writer pictured that 
 between France and Germany before the Franco- 
 German War, when he said the two countries were 
 like two railway trains rushing together on a single 
 track. 
 
 ** Germany is increasing her population beyond the 
 limits of her country to support, and in looking about 
 for new lands she finds, unfortunately, that the most 
 available belong to Great Britain. In this situation it 
 is only natural, perhaps, that Germany should seek 
 some pretext for a quarrel, and quarrels that are 
 sought are generally easy enough to find. 
 
 '* If England should get into trouble in India, as is 
 not unlikely, you would probably find Germany quick 
 to take advantage of it, or if other conditions arise 
 which seem to place England at a disadvantage, 
 Germany would not miss the opportunity to strike 
 a blow. She might, for excuse, pick a quarrel with 
 France or with Holland, and England would be 
 obliged to intervene. It is not that there is any 
 alliance between Great Britain and France that could 
 compel this, but Great Britain would not be willing 
 to see France again defeated by Germany. France is 
 too close to England's doors to make that desirable. 
 
 *' Unless something occurs which makes it inevit- 
 able, in Germany's opinion, to provoke immediate 
 war with England, it is probable that Germany will 
 delay the conflict for a few years, until her navy is 
 proportionately stronger than it is now, and it is 
 significant that all the new German battleships are 
 being built with very small coal capacity. As she has 
 few coaling stations it is obvious that the German 
 strategists contemplate a struggle at close quarters. 
 In other words that the contest will take place in the 
 
222 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 English Channel in a desperate effort to land a German 
 army on English soil, under cover of the German 
 fleet." 
 
 The paper then continues : '' Germany at the 
 present time occupies somewhat the same position 
 in the eyes of Europe as did Napoleon a hundred years 
 ago, namely that of a public enemy," is Bell's view 
 of that country, as a result of the diplomacy of the 
 Kaiser and his statesmen. ** The German Emperor," 
 he said, *' is a strong and able ruler, but he is emotional 
 and impetuous, and such men can never be depended 
 on to pursue a steady policy. I do not believe that 
 much popular hatred of England exists among the 
 Germans at present, but the Emperor is a source of 
 danger." 
 
 Mr. Bell was unwilUng to hazard an opinion as to the 
 probable outcome of a conflict between Germany and 
 Great Britain, but he said that it is essential to the 
 latter's safety that a system of universal military 
 training should be inaugurated in England, and he 
 expects to see such training compulsory before long. 
 
 The interview continues : '* Raw material is not of 
 great use in the first clash of arms, that was strikingly 
 illustrated in our South African War. The volunteers 
 who went out there, brave and enthusiastic as they 
 were, lacked efficiency, because they lacked training. 
 My son, then seventeen years old, was one of those 
 volunteers. When he came to me and said he was 
 going to enlist, I asked him what use he was going to 
 be. * Well at any rate I can die for my country,' he 
 replied, and I said to him, ' That is no good, the 
 question is, can you make some fellow on the other 
 side die ? ' " 
 
 I know that in 1909 Mr. Moberly Bell said this war 
 must come within five years, and his words have come 
 true. 
 
 He died as he would have wished, sitting in his 
 chair at The Times office. He was writing to the then 
 Postmaster-General an amusing letter on a difference 
 of opinion he had on some business point, His 
 
SOME EGYPTIAN EXPERIENCES 223 
 
 secretary had just turned to get an envelope to match 
 his note-paper when she heard him sigh. He had laid 
 down his pen as if to think for a moment about his 
 next sentence, and quietly and peacefully died on 
 April 5th, 1911. He had been under the doctor's 
 orders for some weeks for heart strain, and was 
 believed to be quite well again. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 SOME GENERALS AND BATTLES 
 
 Sir John Ardagh — At the Battle of Gunnis — Looks after the Cooking — 
 Drives an Engine — Works on the Line — Relieves Me of a Tiresome 
 Charge — Marries — Director of Military Intelligence — Someone to 
 Blame — Hague Conference — Advice in His Office — My Experiences 
 in Alexandria — View the Battlefield of Tel-el- Kebir — Lord Wolseley 
 has an Accident — Mr. Melton Prior Promises not to Tell — Mr. 
 Walter Ingram Shoots the Nile Cataracts — Sir John Ardagh as 
 Arbiter. 
 
 GENERAL SIR JOHN ARDAGH, who had 
 such a number of letters of the alphabet 
 after his name, and who prophesied that 
 Captain Kitchener, Mr. Gerald Portal and Captain 
 Baden-Powell would leave their mark in history, was 
 one of those willing horses who habitually get worked 
 too hard. 
 
 A reserved, silent man, unusually gifted, clever with 
 brush and pencil, an architect, astronomer and 
 linguist, able to speak and read French, German, 
 Italian, Spanish, Turkish, Arabic and Hindustani, 
 besides being a Greek and Latin scholar. He had 
 travelled nearly the world over, gathering knowledge 
 wherever he went. 
 
 I have heard his staff speak of him as '* a perfect 
 encyclopaedia of knowledge and a lovable associate.'' 
 He lived at a time of hard workers — Lord Kitchener, 
 Sir Charles Douglas, to wit ; both of these men were 
 ceaseless workers, expecting others to do as they did, 
 and having something to say if they did not. With 
 Sir John Ardagh work was not so much a passion as a 
 stem duty, yet at all times ready with excuses for 
 those who failed to live up to his high standard, often 
 doing their work for them. 
 
 He was an engineer of repute when first I knew him, 
 
 224 
 
SOME GENERALS AND BATTLES 225 
 
 and had been for many years in the employment of 
 the Foreign Office, Colonial Office and Treasury. It 
 was very difficult to get him to talk about himself at 
 all, which I regretted, as I have known few men who 
 could have told more interesting stories. In Cairo, 
 where he did so much useful work, he was not popular 
 amongst the social butterffies, for he had no time to 
 dally. Whenever he was seen outside his office he was 
 going in haste to see some person or place of import- 
 ance, or returning from them ; nobody could inveigle 
 him into stopping for a chat. 
 
 I never think of Colonel Ardagh, as he was in those 
 days, without picturing him wrestling with his eye- 
 glass; when not to be found he was lost. It had an 
 aggravating way of hiding itself, or becoming twiddled 
 up amongst his buttons, being retrieved as often as 
 not from dangling down his neck. 
 
 I have been told, at the Battle of Gunnis he was 
 busily engaged discussing the situation with General 
 Grenfell while looking through a telescope, their heads 
 just appearing above a rock, when a bullet passed 
 through his helmet, hurting his ear and making him 
 deaf for a short time. The first thing he thought of 
 was his precious eye-glass, and he began searching 
 fiercely and desperately for it, finding the evasive 
 monocle hanging down his back. He was then quite 
 happy, poked his finger into the hole in his helmet to 
 see the extent of the damage, and continued his work 
 at the telescope. 
 
 Writing of eye-glasses reminds me of a story General 
 Ardagh told me of General Dormer, at one time on the 
 same staff with him. Perhaps, as there are several 
 well-known Dormers, I had better give his full title. 
 General the Hon. James Charlemagne Dormer, known 
 amongst his friends as General Jim. Some bumptious 
 boastful soldiers of the Mahdi were relating before 
 General Jim all the wonderful things their chief could 
 do. He listened for some time as though much 
 impressed, then quickly unhitched his glass eye, 
 threw it up in the air and popped it back again in its 
 p 
 
226 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 accustomed place, saying, *' Your Madhi can't do 
 that ! " They were subdued, for indeed he could not. 
 
 When General Valentine Baker was with the Turks 
 in 1878, throwing up defence works south of Constanti- 
 nople, Colonel Ardagh was one of the many friends 
 who paid him a visit, being at that time on the 
 Bulgarian Boundary Commission. He travelled over 
 much the same ground that is being fought over 
 to-day ; and shared his tent with a Captain Cherm- 
 side, who was working on the Commission with him. 
 All went well save that their servant cooked so badly 
 Colonel Ardagh felt something must be done, so said 
 he would enquire into matters and try to improve 
 them. I fear his stable companion was rather un- 
 grateful as this is what he wrote : 
 
 " There was a gay Captain called Ardagh, 
 Who kept a sharp eye on the larder ; 
 When his servant was late 
 Him he soundly did rate, 
 When too early he swore at him harder." 
 
 Colonel Ardagh was in command of the Royal 
 Engineers and in charge of the Water Works at 
 Ramleh, near Alexandria, when I was out there in 
 1882. They were stirring times ; I believe I was the 
 first woman in Alexandria after the bombardment. 
 The place was still smoking, the chief thoroughfares 
 strewn with stones and debris of every description, 
 guns, ramrods, barrels, ladders and many other less 
 pleasant sights. A number of people were searching 
 about amongst the ruins, Greeks and Asiatics chiefly. 
 I was being taken by a doctor to visit a dying relative 
 and was conducted into what had once been an hotel, 
 but was then a very uncertain and unsafe-looking 
 ruin. A Greek vendor of drinks had established him- 
 self with a tray balanced on heaped-up stones, and 
 was selling sherbet. I indulged in some of this while 
 waiting for the doctor to make the necessary arrange- 
 ments for me, but I did not care for the look of either 
 the vendor or some of his customers. 
 
 The room where I waited was open to the sky and 
 
SOME GENERALS. AND BATTLES 227 
 
 the walls bore evidence of the bombardment. I was 
 standing drinking my sherbet near what I presumed 
 had once been a window, when an officer came clanking 
 by on a handsome grey Arab. When he saw me he 
 told me it was not safe for me to be in Alexandria and 
 still less to stand amidst the ruins. I was proceeding 
 to explain my errand when suddenly close to where I 
 stood came a sisse-ping, sisse-ping from a rifle bullet. 
 The Greek seized his tray and fled, his customers all 
 tumbling over one another in haste to escape; the 
 officer on the Arab jumped off and flung the reins in 
 my direction, saying, ** Somebody hold this horse " ; the 
 only somebody left being me I made a snatch at them, 
 succeeding in catching the curb rein. This, and the 
 noise of firing and shouting upset the beast and he 
 proceeded to back violently, dragging me along with 
 him, my feet planted firmly, and holding back, but 
 being scuffled along in the wake of my backing charger, 
 its owner having disappeared in the direction of the 
 firing and shouting. Once when near a low wall I tried 
 to mount, but it was impossible, and I was dragged 
 nearly down to the quay. I tried giving him his head, 
 but then he only twisted round and tried to get away ; 
 a number of people were running past me, but all too 
 intent on either seeing what the row was, or running 
 away, to stop and help me. 
 
 Just when I was thinking I should have to give in, 
 I heard a horse galloping behind me, and up rode 
 Colonel Ardagh. He could not stop to talk, but took 
 the reins from me and carried off the Arab with him, 
 telling me hurriedly that there had been a little row as 
 some of the enemy had been hiding in the ruins and 
 had shot an English soldier and everybody had gone in 
 pursuit — apparently. I made my way back to my 
 ruins to wait for the doctor, who arrived shortly, and 
 took me on board the Carthage, a hospital-ship that 
 had been a P. & O. boat, now painted white with the 
 Red Cross emblem. I tried to find out later whose 
 horse had given me this exhausting experience. 
 Colonel Ardagh said it was an Arab belonging to 
 
228 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Colonel Crealock. It may have been his Arab, but 
 certainly the man who had been riding it was not 
 Colonel Crealock, because I knew him well. 
 
 Someone else said it was Colonel Barrington Foote's 
 mount, and he was doing galloper to somebody, I 
 forget who; that again was a mistake, for I knew 
 Colonel Barrington Foote and he was not the man. 
 
 During the bombardment a lady and her daughter, 
 whose name I never heard, hid in the lighthouse at the 
 mouth of the harbour for two days and nights, too 
 frightened to come out. It was not a very safe place, 
 and although only one shot actually hit the upper 
 part of the tower, the walls at the base got a good deal 
 knocked about. 
 
 The looting and murder at this time was con- 
 siderable, but Lord Beresford soon put an end to that, 
 giving notice that anybody caught at it red-handed 
 would at once be shot. Numbers were caught red- 
 handed, tried and shot, being made to dig their own 
 graves and then stand in them while shot. 
 
 When next I heard of Colonel Ardagh he was 
 working hard on the little single line of railway 
 running between Ismailia and Cairo, endeavouring to 
 repair the damage done to the line during the battle of 
 Tel-el-Kebir, which had been fought over it, the 
 railway departments having been decimated with the 
 sun, not a thing to be trifled with in Egypt during the 
 months of August and September. At all cost the 
 railway had to be kept in working order to keep the 
 army in touch with head-quarters, also the advance 
 from Ismailia depended on it. The line was entirely 
 broken up in places, and what was so harassing for 
 Colonel Ardagh was the lack of mending material. 
 When he thought he had succeeded in concocting 
 something that would suffice, the heavy engines and 
 laden trucks were too heavy for it. Thanks to his 
 ingenuity and hard work it was patched up, and 
 Colonel Ardagh drove the trains himself at one time 
 when all other helpers failed. 
 
 Here again I believe I was the first woman to travel 
 
SOME GENERALS AND BATTLES 229 
 
 over that line after the battle of Tel-el-Kebir. We 
 had to move very slowly for fear of kicking up the 
 temporary lines, and I had plenty of time to see where 
 the battle had been fiercest. The ground was still 
 littered with dead beasts, gun-carriage wheels and all 
 the sad sights of a battlefield, the little sand fortifica- 
 tions behind which brave men had done their bit and 
 died, all was still eloquent of the great struggle. 
 I have passed along that same line since, and close up 
 beside it stands lone, yet peaceful, a little cemetery 
 packed with white crosses where those who fell at 
 Tel-el-Kebir are buried. Anyone in the train can 
 plainly see them silhouetted against the miles of sand. 
 
 Colonel Ardagh told me that one of the most trying 
 times of his life and one that told considerably on his 
 health, was when in command of the base of the Nile 
 Expedition. His duties and responsibilities were 
 multitudinous, added to which, when Lord Wolseley 
 arrived with a large staff, the officers already out there 
 resented having their noses put out of joint and there 
 was a good deal of friction. Some of those already 
 there declined to help or work with the latest arrivals, 
 until Colonel Ardagh succeeded in smoothing things 
 over. He set a wonderful example of unselfishness and 
 disinterestedness. 
 
 Some of the telegrams he received in the course of 
 one day gives a fair idea of the comprehensiveness of 
 his work. One asked for two hundred camels at the 
 earliest possible moment, followed closely by demands 
 for Swiss milk, blankets and coffins. Then came a 
 note from Sir Evelyn Baring saying could he spare 
 a few minutes as he particularly wished to speak to 
 him ? Could he collect all the things necessary and 
 make the arrangements for Mr. PortaFs Mission that 
 was under consideration ? Yet, not only did I 
 notice, but several times had it remarked to me, that 
 Colonel Ardagh was never even impatient, or answered 
 irritably. He was not a man of many words at any 
 time, and never other than courteous. 
 
 I cannot pass on from this Nile Expedition to the 
 
230 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 rest of my memories of Colonel Ardagh without 
 mentioning an account Mr. Ingram gave me of his 
 endeavours to shoot the cataracts, for it was thrilling. 
 I gathered that he had come out to see some of the 
 fun ! and joined Mr. Prior, who was on the paper 
 belonging to his family (The Illustrated London News). 
 He had brought out some patent sort of steam launch 
 with him, but it was not a success, therefore he and Mr. 
 Prior decided to travel up the Nile in a dahabieh, in 
 the same fashion as the troops were doing. 
 
 On nearing the first great shoot of cataract about 
 fifty feet wide, the water travelling at the rate of 
 fifteen miles an hour, he and his companion rowed 
 hard up to the shoot, then before they knew what was 
 happening found they were swept along with the 
 rushing water, dashed past a huge rock, expecting to 
 be smashed to pieces but just missed it, being hurried 
 along in their dahabieh, then an awful plunge under 
 water, and they thought this must be the end, but 
 found themselves spinning round in a whirlpool. 
 
 It seems strange that the guides down these rapids 
 who must know every current are not able to manage 
 better, the bumps the boats get are enough to knock 
 them to pieces. 
 
 Mr. Ingram also told me a story of Lord Wolseley 
 while journeying up with the relief force. He was 
 riding a prize camel, which had been presented to him 
 by the Khedive. The animal being a little above itself 
 from mimosa or some such dainty, took the oppor- 
 tunity to unship its rider in full view of a number of 
 the troops and Mr. Melton Prior. His Lordship was in 
 an agony of mind thinking the next Illustrated London 
 News would have a picture of the incident. Mr. Prior 
 ran to his assistance and while helping him up remarked 
 under his breath, " I did not see it happen, sir." 
 
 '' Thank you, Mr. Prior," replied Lord Wolseley, 
 laughing. 
 
 Colonel Ardagh was a man of many parts : at one 
 time working in the Foreign Office in London, at 
 another sitting on a Commission for the reform of the 
 
^ 
 
 SLSAN COUMKSS OF MAI.MKSHURY— LADY ARDAGH 
 
SOME GENERALS AND BATTLES 231 
 
 system of weights and measures in Cairo — on the 
 Viceregal Staff in India — Secretary to Lord Lansdowne 
 — A.D.C. to the Duke of Cambridge — Director of 
 Military Intelligence at Home. During the first few 
 years he held the latter post, he had what must surely 
 be the unique experience, of advising the Government 
 on no less than thirty wars and expeditions under- 
 taken by the Foreign and Colonial Offices. 
 
 In 1896 he married Susan, Countess of Malmesbury, 
 widow of the third Earl ; they had known one another 
 for many years though he was considerably older than 
 his bride. The announcement took us all by surprise, 
 we had begun to look upon Colonel Ardagh as a 
 confirmed bachelor ; he was now Sir John by the way, 
 having been made K.C.I.E. on leaving India and the 
 Viceroy's Staff in 1894. 
 
 Once when the Duke of Cambridge was having 
 luncheon with us in Paris, Colonel Ardagh was among 
 the guests we had invited to meet him ; he was suffering 
 from a bad cold, and the Duke told him he ought to 
 have a wife to take care of him, teasing him about the 
 number of ladies anxious to become Lady Ardagh 
 and finally wound up with the question, '' Why don't 
 you marry ? " 
 
 ** Because nobody will have me, sir,*' replied Sir 
 John. We were rather amused, knowing well he had 
 given nobody the chance. We also thought we knew 
 one or two who would not have said him ** Nay." 
 
 At the Hague Conference in 1899, when the Queen 
 of Holland invited the twenty-six powers to meet at 
 the *' House in the Wood '' at the Hague, Sir John was 
 selected to represent England as Military Technical 
 Adviser. It is interesting to remember that amongst 
 the subjects under discussion was the forbidding of 
 the use of submarine torpedo boats, and the throwing 
 of bombs from balloons during wars ! 
 
 Lady Ardagh thinks that what killed her husband 
 was the South African War. He was at the time head 
 of the Military Intelhgence Department. The work 
 was overwhelming and yet with his usual unselfishness 
 
232 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 he allowed most of his Staff to go out to South Africa, 
 and struggled on with the work surrounded with men 
 more or less strangers to the subjects to be dealt with. 
 Then followed what so often seems to overtake men 
 who have given the best years of their lives to the 
 service of their country, blame and abuse for other 
 people's slackness and mistakes. The usual cry of it 
 being all the fault of the Intelligence Department that 
 we met with reverses, that Sir John had not told the 
 Government how powerful the enemy was or that guns 
 were being taken into the country in piano cases, etc. 
 
 The victim of these injustices made no reply, denied 
 none of the charges hurled at him, thinking somebody 
 other than the real delinquents must bear the blame 
 and his shoulders would do as well as those of anybody 
 else. 
 
 I am glad to say that Lord Elgin's Commission to 
 enquire into the part played by the Intelligence 
 Department in connection with the Boer War entirely 
 exonerated Sir John, and he had the satisfaction of 
 seeing himself vindicated. 
 
 I have been told by more than one who worked 
 with Sir John that he set them all a magnificent 
 example, that they would have been ashamed to shirk 
 when he was working morning, noon and night. 
 Being sensitive himself, Sir John was most particular 
 not to hurt other people's feelings if it could possibly be 
 avoided, and as he was a busy man and could not 
 afford to waste time, and his work entailed seeing and 
 conversing with a number of different people, he put 
 up a notice in his office printed in large black letters 
 on a white ground with this advice : 
 
 When you visit a man of ' 
 Tell him quickly your 
 Leave him to his 
 Go about your own 
 
 He found this little notice answered admirably and 
 prevented him having to hurry people and so throw 
 them out of their stride. 
 
 business. 
 
SOME GENERALS AND BATTLES 233 
 
 Sir John was much sought after as arbiter. Poor 
 man, there was hardly any subject he was not called 
 upon to decide at one time or another. Once at Simla 
 he was asked to settle a friendly dispute over a bet 
 between Lord William Beresford and a stout and 
 sporting general. Lord William had bet he would 
 carry the fifteen-stone general from the foot of the 
 hill below Government House to the Club, a distance 
 of a quarter of a mile or more ; the general closed with 
 the bet. A small crowd of friends collected to see the 
 show. Lord William arrived to the moment punctual 
 as usual, threw off his coat and rolled up his sleeves ; 
 the general smiled complacently. 
 
 Lord W. : *' Now then, sir, are you ready ? '' 
 
 General : ** Yes, and waiting." 
 
 Lord W. : '* Then strip, please I " 
 
 General : " Then what ? '' 
 
 Lord W. : ''Strip, please. I said I would carry you, 
 I said nothing about carrying your clothes ! " 
 
 There was a good deal of argument and friendly 
 banter ; Lord Wilham claimed he had won his bet, as 
 the general declined to strip, and Colonel Ardagh was 
 called in to decide. The general paid. 
 
 Again in Cairo to his horror he was asked to decide 
 a question of precedence between two very angry 
 ladies ; they came to me and I could not help laughing 
 it was so childish. The elder woman's argument was 
 she was much older than the '* nothing but a child," 
 and in addition to that her husband was a Member 
 of the Privy Council, so of course she should go in to 
 dinner first. The younger woman considered herself 
 a bride in the first place, and in the second her 
 husband was the younger son of an Earl. 
 
 The discussion was taking place in my private 
 sitting-room at Shepheard's Hotel, the door of the 
 room was open and I saw Sir John, who was then 
 Colonel Ardagh, go past on his way to consult a big-wig 
 in a room a little further down the corridor, so I called 
 him in and asked him to decide. He puckered up his 
 brow into many crinkles and listened. When the 
 
234 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 parties had done talking (both at once), Sir John began 
 by saying that in his own private opinion, weight 
 should be allowed for age, and strongly advised the 
 " nothing but a girl '' not to insist on going in to 
 dinner first as in that case she might find herself told-off 
 to some old fogy like himself, for instance, instead of 
 some of the younger and more amusing men. The old 
 lady was pleased because she thought she had won the 
 day, and the young woman was pleased because she 
 was amused at Sir John's way of putting his views 
 and because she had not thought that of course she 
 would be sure to have elderly and dull people next to 
 her at dinner if she went in first. 
 
 Painting was Sir John's principal recreation. I liked 
 to see him with his brush, it was a great pleasure to 
 him. I wondered when he died in 1907 what had 
 become of his valuable collection of sketches taken in 
 all parts of the world. Lady Ardagh now tells me he 
 left nine hundred of them to her. She gave a good 
 many of them to the Royal Engineers as they were 
 of harbours all over the world. Besides being clever 
 with his brush he was clever with his pen. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 LORD CROMER AND SIR GERALD PORTAL 
 
 Lord Cromer in Egypt — In India — His Work and Difficulties — General 
 Gordon Writes from Khartoum — His Death — Mr. Portal and 
 Lord Cromer — Mr. Portal's Mission to Abyssinia — Experiences 
 on the Way — Betrayed — Despair — Saved by a Mule's Sagacity — 
 Late for Luncheon — How He was Punished — Made a K.C.M.G. — 
 His Mission to Uganda — Interview with Angry Bishops — Death 
 of Captain Raymond Portal — Lady Alice Bertie — Sir Gerald's 
 Death. 
 
 IT was a happy day for Egypt when the mantle of 
 its financial administration fell upon the shoulders 
 of Sir Evelyn Baring, afterwards Lord Cromer. 
 He was a great financier, coming from ancestors of 
 finance and banking fame, and Egypt's saviour. 
 
 He first showed his talents for juggUng with figures 
 in 1858, at the age of eighteen, when he joined the 
 Artillery. The mess had been in debt and badly 
 managed for some time, and he was asked to tackle it 
 and put it on a sounder footing. This he soon accom- 
 plished. How they discovered his genius for finance 
 I do not know. 
 
 I first met the Barings in India, while Sir Evelyn 
 was Minister of Finance, I think it was. He and his 
 delightful wife were well-known figures in Calcutta and 
 Simla. Both were rather stout, and used to eat the 
 air regularly on fine weight-carrying cobs. 
 
 I have heard people say Sir Evelyn was a bear, with 
 bearish manners, if so, I wish there were more bears 
 like him. I have always found him courteous and 
 exceedingly kind, often putting himself to great incon- 
 venience to help a friend. 
 
 For a young man to attract the notice and sympathy 
 of Sir Evelyn meant the making of that young man, 
 
 235 
 
236 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 and all his life he proved himself a genius at discover- 
 ing hard-working and clever people. 
 
 When first he went to Egypt that country was on 
 the verge of bankruptcy and the Khedive in despair. 
 Lord Cromer bought up the Khedive's interests in the 
 Suez Canal for the British Government at a sum of 
 ;f 4,000,000 sterling. But his history is well known, and 
 all the great and comprehensive work he carried out 
 in the East. 
 
 After Hicks Pasha's annihilation with his whole 
 army made up of funks and miserable material, in 
 which I think he had no real faith, much of Sir Evelyn's 
 time was taken up in arranging the abandonment of 
 the Soudan, which another administrator spent more 
 time in regaining. 
 
 A few years ago, when advertising for a butler, 
 amongst the answers which I received was one signed 
 Hicks, and purporting to be from the Pasha's son. If 
 this was true, which I think it may have been, for the 
 writing and diction were good, it seems a scandal. 
 
 Many unkind and some unjust aspersions have been 
 levied at Sir Evelyn in connection with the relief of 
 Gordon. It has even been suggested he was a party 
 to leaving him to his fate in Khartoum. I happen to 
 have known intimately several people in a position to 
 explain to me the entire situation. Sir Evelyn's views, 
 and his difficulties. While all must, and have, bitterly 
 regretted the lovable fanatic's death under such tragic 
 circumstances, it should be borne in mind that Charles 
 Gordon had always been difficult to work with, and 
 at all times impatient of control. When asked by the 
 English Government to go out in 1884 to try and ex- 
 tricate the Egyptian garrison from the hands of the 
 revolting natives, and proclaim the separation of the 
 country from Egyptian rule, he was so certain of his 
 power over the Soudanese that he would hardly listen 
 to any suggestions of possible difficulties. He felt 
 sure he had only to reappear in the Soudan and the 
 followers of the Mahdi would rally round him gladly. 
 Again, when leaving Cairo for Khartoum, he wished 
 
LORD CROMER 
 
 Photograph by Russell 
 
LORD CROMER AND SIR GERALD PORTAL 237 
 
 Sir Evelyn Baring to allow him to take Zebehr Pasha 
 with him, the man having been virtually a prisoner in 
 Cairo for some time as a notorious slave-dealer in the 
 Soudanese traffic. It seems amazing that Gordon 
 should not have realised that Zebehr was not friendly 
 to him, considering Suleiman, the man's own son, had 
 been executed for revolt five years previously by 
 Gordon's orders, and that he, Zebehr, had been de- 
 prived of some of his property for complicity. Sir 
 Evelyn was much against this man being set free to 
 return with Gordon to Khartoum. 
 
 Arriving at Khartoum on February i8th, 1884, 
 Gordon quickly changed his views, finding he could no 
 longer influence the Soudanese, and he wrote to Sir 
 Evelyn Baring saying the Mahdi must be smashed. 
 Gordon's requests had to be carefully considered, as 
 his wishes and views changed frequently ; one letter 
 would say he was going to stand by those who trusted 
 him, and nothing would persuade him to leave them, 
 a later letter would be entirely personal and complain 
 bitterly at being left to walk about day in and day 
 out with sandled shoes like the natives, a virtual 
 prisoner. 
 
 Sir Evelyn Baring had not only to arrive at some 
 conclusion amongst these conflicting letters as to the 
 best thing to do, but had the annoyance of having his 
 advice misconstrued or neglected at home. 
 
 I have always passionately wished poor Gordon 
 could have known how hard the British Agents and 
 Lord Kitchener worked in hopes of relieving him, and 
 of the desperate endeavour of every man in the relief 
 force to hasten so as to be in time. The Government 
 at home was alone to blame for what happened, and 
 to have known this would have been a relief and a 
 happiness to poor bitterly disappointed Gordon, who 
 felt his friends were neglecting him. 
 
 Even as I write my kind friend Lord Cromer has 
 passed away, died practically in harness. The last 
 letter I had from him, written a few weeks before his 
 death, told me he was very busy over the difficult work 
 
238 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 of the Dardanelles Commission, which seemed to worry 
 him a good deal. 
 
 I have seen Lord Cromer in many different moods, 
 grave, gay, inscrutable, tender and affectionate ; he 
 was very homely and domestic in his own house. When 
 his two little sons were very ill in Egypt, he would 
 leave his office and creep on tiptoe to the door of the 
 sick-room and ask if the children were any better, 
 and if he could see them. At that time he was Sir 
 Evelyn Baring, and when Lady Baring came to speak 
 to him and give the latest bulletin, he would link his 
 arm in hers and walk off with troubled face to console 
 the anxious mother, and perhaps find some consolation 
 himself. I never saw him other than most courteous 
 and considerate to all his family, no matter what 
 weighty matters were pressing for his attention. 
 
 He would shake and wobble with laughter when any- 
 thing tickled his fancy. I remember once, when I was 
 dining with him and Lady Cromer in Egypt, I was 
 endeavouring to amuse Prince Bliicher with polite 
 conversation and stories, telling him about some 
 Suffragettes who had been trying to blow up buildings 
 at Westminster, and that it was a case of the biter bit, 
 as some of them had been blown up themselves ; adding 
 that one who had ascended with her usual garments, 
 came back to mother earth not much the worse, but 
 minus her flannel petticoat. Not being able to speak 
 a word of German, I was doing my best in French, and 
 trying to think of some delicate way of mentioning the 
 inoffensive article which in bald English sounds rather 
 crude, but would be quite '' comme il faut " if I could 
 only think of some appropriate term in French. 
 Suddenly I discovered Lord Cromer had been listening 
 while trying to converse with somebody on the other 
 side of him and he was evidently much amused, so I 
 turned to him and said, *'Do tell me the French for 
 flannel petticoat, I can think of nothing but jupe de 
 flanelle.'* He burst out laughing and said he thought 
 that would do quite nicely. 
 
 Meanwhile the Prince, all attention to hear what 
 
LORD CROMER AND SIR GERALD PORTAL 239 
 
 was missing when the lady came back from her journey 
 in the air, had grasped the gist of my story and roared 
 with laughter, thus attracting everybody's attention, 
 and I wished I were dead. I believe they all thought 
 I had invented the story ; but I had really seen it in 
 the papers a short time before. I was a good deal 
 teased about it, and for some time afterwards when- 
 ever there was a pause in the conversation I was asked 
 to tell one of my funny stories ! 
 
 Prince Bliicher was a fine well-groomed man with 
 dark hair, heavily-marked eyebrows and rather 
 squarely and closely trimmed beard, bright brown 
 eyes, courtly manner, and polished address. Natur- 
 ally I liked him, for when I apologised for my halting 
 French, he told me it was perfect, and it was a very 
 long time since he had met so pleasant and amusing 
 a lady. The least I could do after that was to admire 
 him. 
 
 With a merry twinkle in his eye he said he had been 
 wondering which garment had been left in mid-air ; 
 and when I asked him how he accounted for the dis- 
 appearance of *' la jupe '' he said he was unable to 
 assist me, as in his country they did not have *'^es 
 femmes obstinees," and if they did would certainly 
 shortly be wearing '' la camisole de force ! " I said I 
 was shocked, it was worse than my talking of *' la jupe." 
 
 The Prince was much interested in the Egyptian 
 Gendarmerie, and asked me many questions about 
 them. I told him General Valentine Baker and 
 Colonel George Harvey had been the making of them. 
 He said he had watched the career of General Baker, 
 adding, ** Wonderful man, wonderful man. Any 
 country would be proud of him." 
 
 Amongst the many people who have Lord Cromer 
 to thank for making them, perhaps Mr. Portal owed 
 him the largest debt of gratitude, for he was treated 
 like a son. 
 
 Handsome, plucky, genial Gerry, at home every- 
 where, and liked by all. For nearly eight years he had 
 helped Lord Cromer and was full of pride at being left 
 
240 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 in entire charge for a few weeks during Lord Cromer's 
 absence in 1886-7. While full of fun and jokes at his 
 own importance in connection with it, he conducted 
 affairs with considerable credit, Lord Cromer told me. 
 
 Lord SaHsbury asked the British Agent in 1887 to 
 recommend someone to him to carry out a special 
 Mission to Abyssinia with a view to smoothing over a 
 difference of opinion between King Johannes and 
 the Italian Government regarding the occupation of 
 Massowah. He appointed Mr. Portal, who was over- 
 joyed at being given such an opportunity. The fact 
 that another mission had undertaken the same journey 
 about twenty years before and it had taken ten 
 thousand men two years later to rescue them, did not 
 damp Mr. PortaFs spirits, for he loved adventure and 
 responsibility and was full of pride at having a chance 
 of showing what he could do. 
 
 It was while on this mission that he nearly died 
 from thirst. I made him tell me the whole story from 
 beginning to end, it was so wonderful that he lived 
 through such an experience. 
 
 Briefly it was thus : 
 
 Having received instructions from Lord Cromer to 
 reach King Johannes with all possible dispatch before 
 any fresh complications arose, he at once set to work 
 and collected all the necessary impedimenta, tents, 
 mules, drivers, guides, interpreter, and all the hundred 
 and one things necessary on expeditions of the kind. 
 
 The only other Englishmen of the party were Mr. 
 Beech, a friend of Mr. Portal's, at that time in Cairo, 
 and his own English servant named Hutchinson, who 
 was most anxious to accompany his master. 
 
 All went fairly well until they left Massowah and 
 the hospitable ItaUans ; then the real work began, 
 and it was not long before difficulties arose. The mule 
 drivers, six in number to twelve mules, either pre- 
 tended they could not load the animals properly, or 
 were really useless, and the hard work fell upon the 
 shoulders of the three Englishmen. The interpreter 
 turned sulky, and Mr. Portal had grounds for being 
 
SIR GERALD PORTAL 
 
LORD CROMER AND SIR GERALD PORTAL 241 
 
 dissatisfied with the two drivers whom it had been 
 arranged were to act as guides. 
 
 These latter had promised to lead the party to a 
 place where water would be found before nightfall. 
 Night came but no water, and the guides confessed 
 they had been mistaken, but a few miles further on 
 they knew of plenty. The sun had been painfully hot, 
 their faces, feet, and hands were bhstered, and the 
 animals much distressed. They journeyed a few miles 
 further, but were again disappointed, for there was no 
 water. Mr. Portal decided it would not be possible to 
 go on without a rest, so gave orders for the water they 
 had brought with them to be used, only to find this 
 had either been already used or thrown away. 
 
 There was nothing to be done but make all lie down 
 and rest for a few hours and then march again, when 
 it was hoped they would reach Baresa about 6 a.m., 
 where Mr. Portal knew there was water. 
 
 All were soon asleep with the exception of poor 
 Gerry, who sat up and watched, being too worried and 
 anxious to sleep. 
 
 At this juncture in the story I asked Mr. Portal why 
 he did not return to Massowah and get more reliable 
 guides, as it was evident they were treacherous, and I 
 asked if it would not have been a good plan to make 
 the new ones deposit some valuables, such as weapons 
 or wives, as security for their good behaviour. He 
 repHed it would never have done for him to turn back 
 at each difficulty, and he doubted if loss of wives or 
 weapons would have influenced them much. The only 
 thing to do was to go ahead and make the most of 
 valuable time. 
 
 The second day's march was worse, far worse, than 
 the first, for in addition to the heat the country was 
 almost impassable, the horses and mules kept shpping 
 down precipitous rocks and had to be rescued and 
 loaded up afresh, the heat when they started again 
 being 100° Fahrenheit though not yet daylight. The 
 Enghshmen walked to save the horses a little. Six 
 o'clock arrived, but there was no sign of Baresa and 
 
 Q 
 
242 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 of course no water. Mr. Portal now stopped the 
 caravan and decided to go alone with one of the guides, 
 who swore he could find water a little further ahead. 
 
 After travelling about four miles the guide suddenly 
 dashed off into the scrub and disappeared. 
 
 There was no longer any doubt about the man's 
 treachery. Mr. Portal said he felt sadly discouraged 
 and lonely, and tried to retrace his steps and rejoin 
 the rest of the party. This did not prove easy, as 
 some of the ground being rocky there were no foot- 
 marks left as a guide, and all the mountains surround- 
 ing him looked so much alike. After plodding along 
 wondering if he was going in the right direction or 
 away from it he saw someone waving to him, and heard 
 shouting from one of the mountain-tops ; it proved to be 
 his friend Mr. Beech, who with his field-glasses had 
 been watching for him all the time after he left, feeling 
 nervous on his account. On rejoining his party the 
 rest of the men ran away. A consultation was then 
 held as to what was the best thing to do. 
 
 Mr. Portal, who had been marching since midnight 
 without food or water and had had none the day before, 
 was suffering great pain from thirst ; they all felt very 
 ill but they decided to unload the mules, leave every- 
 thing where it was, and try and find their way back to 
 Massowah. The animals relieved of their burdens 
 would be sure to follow. So they began another weary 
 march in perfect silence, for speaking was painful and 
 they could not raise their voices above a whisper ; 
 their tongues were swollen, lips black, eyes staring and 
 figures bent. 
 
 After some hours of this agonising tramping 
 Hutchinson became so very ill, it was necessary to 
 halt until the paroxysm was over. Then it seemed 
 almost more than they could do to start again, all 
 wished to lie down where they were and die, but they 
 made a great struggle. Mr. Portal was by no means 
 satisfied that they were on the right track and doubted 
 their seeing another day's sun. He also expected at any 
 moment the men who had run away, might return 
 
LORD CROMER AND SIR GERALD PORTAL 243 
 
 bringing others with them and murder the whole of 
 the Mission. 
 
 By his pocket thermometer the temperature regis- 
 tered 108° in the shade. Now to his inexpressible 
 relief he found they were on the right track ; this was 
 proved by the intelligence of one of the mules, which 
 he observed now jogging along in front of them with 
 nose to ground and ears cocked, evidently scenting 
 their former tracks and knew they would lead him to 
 water, other mules, horses and comfort. 
 
 All recognised the mule's leadership, and Mr. Portal 
 was thankful to be relieved of that responsibility. 
 At sunset they found themselves once more in sight 
 of the Italian forts. All were unable to speak, but the 
 Italians saw at once what was the matter and attended 
 to their needs. A kind doctor sat up all night pouring 
 cold water over Mr. PortaFs head and bathing his 
 body. 
 
 All agreed it was the mule who saved their lives, and 
 Mr. Portal said he made it his business to see it had 
 *' all the corn in Egypt for a reward.'' 
 
 Next day in spite of feehng very ill Mr. Portal 
 started off again to find the baggage and presents he 
 had unloaded from the mules. The latter were sent 
 by the Queen to King Johannes and naturally Mr. 
 Portal was anxious about them. He found all as he had 
 left them with the exception of some ammunition, 
 and so continued his journey with fresh mules and 
 men. 
 
 After many more thrilling adventures he reached the 
 King who, while being very civil, would give no 
 definite answer as to his future conduct, so Mr. Portal 
 had to return without having the satisfaction and 
 pride of having accomplished the object of his mission, 
 but with a considerably enhanced reputation for pluck 
 and determination. He was made a C.B. in recog- 
 nition of his efforts. King John was killed later 
 at the battle of Metemmeh. 
 
 Mr. Portal then returned to his duties at Cairo, being 
 Charge d'affaires in the autumn of 1888. His character 
 
244 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 was a curious mixture of dignity and gaiety, full of 
 natural humour, though the latter was at times 
 tinged with irony. Nothing ever seemed to oppress 
 him, not even his finances, which were often somewhat 
 straitened. He told me he was always hard-up, but 
 never felt really badly off unless the interest on the 
 money borrowed exceeded his income ! When we 
 made him recount some of his experiences he always 
 made them appear ludicrous. His knowledge and 
 understanding of Eastern life and politics seemed to 
 come to him instinctively. 
 
 Lord Cromer said he took great pleasure in training 
 Mr. Portal, and hoped he might some day be his 
 successor in Egypt. Undoubtedly the turn in 
 fortune's wheel that took Gerry to Cairo to work under 
 Sir Evelyn Baring was the turning-point in his life. 
 Very early in his diplomatic career he acquired that 
 air peculiar to the profession that wishes you to 
 understand, '* I know a great deal, but must not tell 
 you anything.'' I used to tease him about it. I am 
 afraid he got a little spoilt, accepting invitations and 
 then not turning up, keeping people waiting for 
 dinner, luncheon, etc. I determined to bring home 
 this little failing to him the first opportunity I had. 
 We asked hin to luncheon one day before going on to 
 Hurlingham. We were only a small intimate little 
 party. As usual Mr. Portal was late. We had been 
 prepared for this and had given instructions a place 
 should be laid at the side table. After we had been 
 seated at luncheon about ten minutes or a quarter of 
 an hour Mr. Portal put in an appearance, asking, " Am 
 I late ? " with wide-open eyes of innocent enquiry. 
 I replied, '' Yes, and as a punishment you must sit at 
 the side table." He enjoyed the joke and sat down 
 quite good and quiet, but would not allow the servants 
 to remove anything from his table ; as a cold pigeon 
 pie, fruit salad and other good things were standing 
 there awaiting our pleasure, this was disconcerting ; 
 but he maintained they were all his, and he would not 
 have anything removed from his table. 
 
LORD CROMER AND SIR GERALD PORTAL 245 
 
 When we told him if he was sorry he might come 
 to our table he decHned, saying he was having a very 
 good time where he was. His was a happy sunny 
 nature. 
 
 After our Hurlingham luncheon-party Gerry Portal 
 said most good-temperedly, '* I will not forget your 
 wigging." 
 
 From April to November in 1889 Lord Cromer gave 
 his protege another opportunity, allowing him to 
 become Consul-General at Zanzibar and, in March, 
 1891, permanently appointed him to the Agency there 
 under the scheme of the British Protectorate then 
 inaugurated. 
 
 On arriving at his head-quarters in Zanzibar, Portal 
 found the Protectorate was more name than fact, the 
 Arabs being most anxious to reap all benefits of 
 protection, without the smallest understanding of its 
 reciprocal obligations. He was keenly interested in his 
 work and lost no time in tackling important con- 
 siderations ; slavery being still the order of the day 
 amongst the populations under Mahometan law. 
 Here he had to watch the interests of thousands 
 incapable of looking after themselves. 
 
 Writing to me at that time he said the question 
 of obtaining the control of the finances of the country 
 was his first anxiety. This he managed successfully, 
 built and organised a post office, run under English 
 management, placing the army also under a British 
 officer. The Sultan became piqued and restive as he 
 saw his power disappearing, but patience and infinite 
 tact on Portal's part brought about a successful issue. 
 
 It is, I think, remarkable that at the end of the first 
 year's work there was a slight surplus of revenue. In 
 the midst of all this interesting work he was called to 
 undertake the important mission to Uganda towards 
 the end of 1892. The death of the Sultan made it 
 easier for other hands to carry on what Mr. Portal had 
 commenced at Zanzibar on such good foundations. 
 
 For his services in these Islands Mr. Portal was made 
 a K.C.M.G. and thus became Sir Gerald Portal. A 
 
246 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 record for such a young man, Lord Cromer and his 
 own initiative being to thank for it. 
 
 When Sir Gerald Portal came to tell me he had 
 undertaken the mission to Uganda, I asked him to 
 take pity on my ignorance and explain to me what it 
 was all about. I was amused at his reply, '^ Mission- 
 aries, of course ! They are the cause of half our troubles. 
 They will go poking in where angels fear to tread, and 
 then it is our job to get them safely home again.'* 
 
 As probably everybody knows the political situation 
 at that time, this lucid explanation will be enough to 
 explain the state of affairs when Sir Gerald undertook 
 the mission. 
 
 I asked my friend if he had been expecting this 
 honour, for as such he regarded it, and he said, '' No. 
 It was quite unexpected.'' I remarked he looked very 
 happy over it and he expressed his delight, but wished 
 he did not have to do everything in such a rush. There 
 was so much to do and so little time ; the journey 
 alone would take him three weeks and he had to buy 
 all his medical stores, articles for barter, beads, cotton 
 stuffs, coloured handkerchiefs, tents, rope and all the 
 many things the want of which might cause vexatious 
 delay. 
 
 Sir Gerald Portal selected a brilliant staff to go out 
 with him. Colonel Rhodes, D.s.o., Royal Dragoons, of 
 much distinguished service. Major Roddy Owen of 
 the Lancashire Fusiliers, one of the best gentlemen 
 riders of modern times, his eldest brother, Raymond 
 Portal, as good-looking and popular as himself, also 
 many others, all with their own particular work to do. 
 His servant, the great Hutchinson, of course, who had 
 shared his master's hardships in Abyssinia, again 
 journeyed with him. 
 
 One of the things Sir Gerald was most proud of in 
 connection with this mission was the fact that with 
 this large staff, never for one moment throughout the 
 long journey was there anything but good-fellowship 
 amongst them all, not even a difference of opinion or 
 jealous squabble. 
 
LORD CROMER AND SIR GERALD PORTAL 247 
 
 I think a good deal of the merit of this must be 
 attributed to Sir Gerald himself. He knew how to be 
 cheery and hail-fellow-well-met with all his staff, yet 
 had a reserve and dignity of his own not often met 
 with in one so young. He had also a most assured 
 manner, and gave his orders as though all were 
 strangers to him and giving no reasons. Being a bom 
 diplomatist he realised the benefit of this, knowing his 
 conclusions might be right but his reasons wrong. 
 
 Poor Sir Gerry suffered from sea-sickness the whole 
 way to Mombasa. 
 
 When nearing Uganda, Major Roddy Owen was 
 obliged to be carried in a hammock slung on the 
 shoulders of native carriers in consequence of a bad leg ; 
 to keep the sun off him, a blanket was thrown over a 
 pole or stick. This gave rise to a story that preceded 
 them to the effect that the Commissioner was bringing 
 a wife with him. The whole of Uganda was full of 
 excitement to see the lady, while the King Mwanga 
 felt certain the English Queen had sent him an English 
 princess, thinking she would be a suitable present. 
 
 Some of the camp-followers, native coolies or what- 
 ever they were called, were now and then seized with 
 violent colic on the march, for which they threw 
 themselves face downwards on the ground while some 
 of their brethren pulled their arms and legs violently 
 in opposite directions, and others walked up and down 
 their backs to cure them. At first this looked as if it 
 called for Sir Gerald's notice, but he found it was an 
 established custom and cure for what they termed 
 ** Tumbo." In England I think we call the same 
 complaint tummy-ache, perhaps it originally came 
 from " Tumbo." 
 
 The Commissioner formed the opinion that the King 
 Mwanga was weak and highly nervous. When talking 
 he seized anybody's hand close to him and squeezed it. 
 Captain Raymond Portal summed him up as /* not 
 much count.'' 
 
 The most dreaded of Sir Gerald's tasks, he said, was 
 trying to arrange diplomatically all the miserable 
 
248 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 religious quarrels between the Catholic and Protestant 
 bishops. He was most anxious to get them to come 
 to some agreement whereby the Catholic and Protes- 
 tant missionaries would no longer follow on one 
 another's heels planting missions in the same districts, 
 with the inevitable result, war and scandal. Speaking 
 of his meeting with the two bishops, one named 
 Tucker and the other, whose name I forget, he said, 
 '* We were at it hammer and tongs from 9.30 a.m. 
 till 2 p.m." At last after quarrelling fiercely they 
 decided to let Sir Gerald decide the whole matter as he 
 seemed so just and yet sympathetic. He told them 
 plainly if he did this they must accept it as final. There 
 must be no discussion, no more questioning, and he 
 should if necessary see his ruling carried out by force. 
 He then drew a map of the territory he allocated to 
 each as he considered it proper and just. This he tried 
 to persuade them to sign, and swear they would use 
 their best endeavours to see the agreement peacefully 
 carried out. Eventually he got them to shake hands 
 and sign it. The way he told this story was very 
 amusing, winding up with, '' May I never again be 
 shut up with two angry bishops acting as diplomatist, 
 peace-maker and interpreter." 
 
 During this mission Captain Raymond Portal died 
 from sunstroke and fever, nearly breaking his 
 brother's heart. They were much attached to one 
 another. I never heard a soul say an unkind word of 
 Captain Portal, the high and mighty, the poor and 
 lowly, all loved him. 
 
 In November, 1893, Sir Gerald came home, having 
 accomplished his mission, receiving congratulations 
 from aU, very proud, pleased and happy, but his 
 health had been undermined with all the hardships 
 of his two missions, when he had stood face to face 
 with death more often than falls to the lot of a man of 
 his years. While shooting, I think with Lord Rendles- 
 ham, soon after his return, he caught a chill which he 
 could not throw off, fever set in and his strength could 
 not meet it. He died at the early age of thirty-six, on 
 
LORD CROMER AND SIR GERALD PORTAL 249 
 
 January 24th, 1894, a very short time being allowed 
 to him in which to enjoy his triumph and congratula- 
 tions. 
 
 Laverstoke Park, the Portals' home in Hampshire, is 
 a beautiful old place. The mills where the Bank of 
 England notes are made lie close to the main road. 
 The family have the exclusive right to manufacture 
 the paper for those useful articles. Gerry used to say 
 that under the circumstances he thought it a great 
 shame he was not able to have as many as he wanted. 
 
 It was a terrible blow to Lady Charlotte Portal 
 losing her boys Raymond and Gerald so early in their 
 lives, both men of promise, Gerald the younger of 
 actual achievements. Lord Cromer spoke of Gerry's 
 death as a loss to the nation, and I know felt his 
 loss very keenly. Lord Salisbury and Lord Rosebery 
 said the country had lost a valuable servant. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A WAR correspondent's STORIES 
 
 Mr. Melton Prior — Some of His Stories — What Knocked Him Over — 
 Narrow Escape from Being Drowned — A Stampede of Horses — 
 On Majuba Hill — The Prince Imperial — Nearly Starved — Mr. 
 Cameron of The Standard — Mr. Prior Does a Sprint — Camels and 
 Their Character — Father Stanton of St. Albans — His Sermons — 
 His Parishioners' Views. 
 
 I CANNOT leave the Egyptian environment 
 without referring again to Mr. Melton Prior. 
 In my mind I picture him mostly in that 
 country, but indeed I seem to have met him every- 
 where, no matter in what part of the globe I travelled 
 there was Mr. Prior with his bald head, spectacles, 
 cheery disposition and kind heart. In Russia, South 
 Africa, Burma, America, at Royal weddings, here, 
 there and everywhere. 
 
 Thirty years he worked for The Illustrated London 
 News, and during the time of his active service only 
 spent one whole year at home. He told me he kept 
 duplicates of everything for wear or use, one lot 
 always stood ready packed in his front hall so that he 
 could start away at a moment's notice for any part of 
 the world. 
 
 What struck me most when I first met Mr. Prior 
 was his naturalness, he spoke his mind, enjoyed telling 
 good stories against himself and never posed. He was 
 not at heart a soldier, hating battles and wars, they 
 never thrilled him, to use his own words he was '* in a 
 beastly funk " all the time. Then indeed he must 
 have been courageous, for he was in most, if not all the 
 big and little campaigns from Ashanti in 1873 to the 
 Russo-Japanese in 1904, and with the besieged in 
 Ladysmith. He told me many times in a battle he 
 
 250 
 
Photograph by LlUott &■ Fry 
 
 MR. mp:lton prior 
 
A WAR CORRESPONDENT'S STORIES 251 
 
 vowed to himself it should be his last, he would 
 " sooner break stones on the road '' than go through 
 such alarming experiences any more ; yes, he would 
 certainly '* chuck it up." Nevertheless none worked 
 harder or took more pride in it than he did, and no one 
 got their work through quicker to the paper, or stuck 
 to it more faithfully. 
 
 He may have had the dumps sometimes, but I never 
 saw him anything but cheerful ; I remarked on this to 
 him once, and in his own funny way he said, '' You 
 should have seen me when I lost my sketch-book in 
 South Africa, I sat down on the ground and cried." 
 
 The two things that seem to have made an ever- 
 lasting impression on him were the appaUing smells at 
 Coomassi and the sights he saw four months after the 
 battle of Isandlwana when he was allowed to go over 
 the ground where the battle was fought. 
 
 I asked if the former of these lasting impressions had 
 been caused by decaying vegetable matter, as I had 
 met one or two fairly powerful in the jungle in India 
 and in marshy land in other countries. There is a 
 certain moss that has a most unpardonable smell, 
 I have made its acquaintance several times ; but 
 Mr. Prior told me the smell that *' knocked him over " 
 came from the blood of human beings killed in the 
 King's private slaughter-house, kept entirely for 
 humans. He also assured me it was a fact that under 
 the palace there was a dungeon full of men and 
 women awaiting their turn to be sacrificed, and that 
 when Sir Garnet Wolseley arrived and the doors were 
 opened for the prisoners to go free, they at first 
 declined, saying, *' No," they were waiting their turn 
 to be killed — evidently so accustomed to the idea it 
 had ceased to be a terror. 
 
 His vivid impressions of Isandlwana were gathered 
 four months after the battle when General Newdigate 
 gave him permission to revisit the scene of that 
 disaster. Mr. Prior could hardly bear to talk about it 
 and assured me at the time it quite unnerved him. 
 There still lay the skeletons of the battalion of the 24th 
 
252 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Regiment, the ground still strewn with the tender 
 things that means the last straw to the beholder who 
 cares. 
 
 I wonder what Mr. Prior would have to tell us if he 
 was with our troops now in this Great War ? 
 
 His art was not perhaps of the highest order, 
 but eminently graphic. He worked in black and white 
 with marvellous rapidity. I was watching him once 
 filling in and finishing a battle picture in the Soudan 
 and remarked on the celerity with which he used his 
 pencil; he replied with one of his usual jokes, '* Oh, 
 the same battle picture does for them all. I only 
 put in a face or two suitable to the occasion." He 
 belonged to the adventurous school of correspondents, 
 Mr. Archibald Forbes being another of the same 
 spirit. 
 
 At all times an amusing companion, full of anecdote, 
 embroidering his stories a little, especially when they 
 were against himself. Whenever anybody wanted to 
 start him off for their entertainment they brought 
 forward the subject of missionaries, that set the ball 
 rolling for any length of time. Amongst other remarks 
 of his on this subject I remember his saying a Kaffir, 
 who had not made the acquaintance of a missionary, 
 might be trusted, but after being converted was a 
 certain thief and liar. 
 
 During his career he had many narrow escapes of 
 losing his life. While sketching the burning palace at 
 Ashanti, he was so engrossed with his work he did not 
 notice all had withdrawn and he was left behind, 
 practically cut off from them. It would have been 
 too tragic to have been burnt up by the fire he was 
 sketching. I forget how he escaped. 
 
 In Egypt he was nearly drowned, indeed the news 
 reached us one evening, when we were all standing 
 about the steps and terrace at Shepheard's Hotel, that 
 Melton Prior had been drowned while shooting a 
 cataract up the Nile. We all shook our heads, re- 
 counted his many virtues or otherwise as they recurred 
 to different people. Next day came news that he 
 
A WAR CORRESPONDENT'S STORIES 253 
 
 was still very much alive and going strong. He did, 
 however, have ** a very narrow squeak," as he called 
 it, having been wrecked ; he was in the act of jumping 
 from the wreckage on to a big rock, missed his footing 
 and fell into the rushing, swirling water. After being 
 submerged for a time he was fished out by a boat-hook, 
 or some such thing, applied to the seat of his trousers ; 
 his friends kept him upside down until all the water 
 ran out of him and then laid him on the bank of the 
 Nile to dry. While this saving process was in full 
 swing, we in Cairo were trying to remember what we 
 had said the day before, some folk trying to hedge and 
 qualify their previous statements. 
 
 He told me a good story of a fright he once had 
 in South Africa. One night something frightened the 
 Artillery horses and they stampeded, coming down 
 like an avalanche in the direction of his tent ; he felt it 
 was useless with his short legs to endeavour to compete 
 with the madly galloping horses ; while if he stayed 
 in his tent they would wreck it and bury him under- 
 neath it ; he said if he had owned any hair on the top 
 of his head it would have stood on end from fright ; 
 fortunately he was spared by some brilUant brain 
 conceiving the idea of sounding the feeding bugle, 
 when all the horses wheeled round and galloped back 
 to their normal places when waiting to be fed. 
 
 I asked particularly if those confiding and trusting 
 animals were rewarded with a feed, and was glad to 
 hear they were not disappointed. 
 
 At Majuba poor little Mr. Prior was knocked down ; 
 he told the story thus at a little reunion dinner of old 
 Cairo friends in London. 
 
 " It had taken us ten hours to climb Majuba Hill 
 the day before the battle, the soldiers being heavily 
 weighted with ammunition and so forth, it took us 
 ten minutes coming down again ; I got knocked down 
 while friend and foe took the opportunity to run over 
 my prostrate body ; when they had quite done with me 
 I was cast into prison, but liberated later when it was 
 proved I was a non-combatant." 
 
254 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 After being nearly drowned in the Nile, he thought 
 he had done enough to justify his existence and would 
 prefer the ship of the desert in future, but after ten 
 hours' ride on one came to the conclusion he had not 
 struck oil but wished he had ! This was between 
 Wady Haifa and Dongola. 
 
 I sympathise with Mr. Prior. After a three hours' 
 journey on a camel I thought my back must be broken 
 in at least three places. I longed to lie down some- 
 where — anywhere — flat on my back and not get up 
 again for a week. 
 
 The Illustrated London News artist was the last or 
 possibly one of the last to speak to the Prince Imperial 
 before his death, and one of those who went to search 
 for him. He bad much of great interest to tell me of 
 this time that I had not heard before and have not 
 heard since. According to his account the blame (as 
 usual) was laid on the wrong shoulders. The story 
 as the public knew it ran this way. When the Prince 
 was found he was covered with wounds, all his clothes 
 gone, but a fine gold chain remained round his neck 
 from which was suspended the portrait of his father 
 Napoleon III. The Zulus had been afraid to interfere 
 with this thinking it was a charm and might bring 
 them bad luck. The story of who was to blame for 
 this poor lad's death had better be left buried in the 
 past. 
 
 The first sketch of this melancholy scene which 
 reached England came from the pen of Mr. Prior. 
 
 In Dalmatia Mr. Prior endured great hardships and 
 was nearly starved. He was telling me about this one 
 day when we were camel-riding in the desert. Mr. 
 Cameron of The Standard, whom I think he liked 
 better than any other man of his acquaintance, was 
 riding the other side of me and said, '* Don't believe 
 
 him, Mrs. , nobody knows better how to take care 
 
 of himself than our friend, or knows how to travel in 
 greater comfort." 
 
 I tried to steer a middle course by saying war-time 
 comfort was not very great at any time. Mr. Prior 
 
A WAR CORRESPONDENT'S STORIES 255 
 
 now entered into a wordy argument about all he had 
 endured, and told his friend it would be better if he 
 took a little more care of himself, adding, *' Or you 
 will be getting killed one of these fine days,'' and so he 
 was, at the battle of Gubat, the same day as Mr. Leger 
 Herbert of The Morning Post. 
 
 Mr. Prior and the other correspondents carried 
 them to their graves. During the battle Mr. Cameron 
 kept exposing himself unnecessarily, though Mr. Prior 
 begged his friend to be more careful and keep behind 
 the camels and biscuit-tin barricades, but Mr. Cameron 
 said he knew he was going to be killed that day ; he 
 felt it, and would take no care. 
 
 It was during the Turkish War in 1877 that Mr. 
 Prior said he did the sprint of his life, running away 
 from a Turk who had insulted him. I cannot picture 
 Mr. Prior sprinting, nothing about him looked like it. 
 
 This clever artist had been two or three times round 
 the world. His last campaign was the Russo-Japanese 
 War, where he was much worried at being allowed so 
 little scope for his work. The day was just dawning 
 when correspondents were to be put on the shelf. 
 
 At the age of sixty-five Mr. Prior died in London in 
 igio, the wonder is he lived so long, his life had been 
 one of prolonged adventure, full of hardships and 
 danger. 
 
 I was staggered when told the sum of money he 
 had to spend in connection with his work ; truly corre- 
 spondents are an expensive luxury. 
 
 He said he would pay anything that would enable 
 him to get his '* stuff " through at the earhest possible 
 moment. Once in South Africa he was very anxious 
 to find the means of getting some information he 
 wanted, and also something to ride or drive to carry 
 it to a place about forty miles away. By dint of a 
 handful of loose coins presented to some dirty Boer 
 children, he softened the heart of a hitherto scowling 
 parent, and she was persuaded to converse with this 
 lover of children. He heard what he was anxious to 
 find out and succeeded in buying a lame old horse and 
 
256 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Cape cart for thirty pounds. With this he galloped 
 until the horse had had enough, he then after some 
 bribery hired another horse for seven pounds, this he 
 had to ride. Various people en route had to have 
 little presents to prevent them being too inquisitive 
 and avoid delays. 
 
 This he explained was quite a modest day's expenses. 
 
 In Egypt he once paid £ioo for the hire of a camel, 
 by this means he was first with some important news. 
 
 I feel that camels, so little understood by English 
 people, need a little notice \ they have been good 
 friends to me and interested me not a little. The 
 horse is a friend of man, not so the camel ; he resents 
 any attempt at friendliness, makes strange guttural 
 bubbling sounds suggestive of disgust. He is a 
 natural grumbler, very reserved and asks for no 
 affection. Flattery and blandishments are entirely 
 lost upon him. Yet there is something about a camel 
 that always makes me feel sorry, he seems so desolate, 
 a thing apart, taking his pleasures sadly, looks as if he 
 was thinking of and regretting the days of the Pharaohs, 
 as though he felt the indignity of working for infidels 
 and people from the West. His under lip is like that 
 of a spoilt child on the verge of tears. 
 
 To make a camel happy it is necessary to keep him 
 always on the move, there is nothing he resents more 
 than camp life. The oppression and desolation of the 
 desert, silent and mysterious, has taken possession of 
 him just as it does of us. He is only happy when 
 sailing over the desert with his head in the air, his 
 soft, gentle eye, partly from endurance, partly in 
 protest, gazing far away at something we do not see, 
 possibly the Mecca of his dreams. 
 
 I have felt when travelling over the desert sands on 
 the back of camels something of their unrest and 
 yearning. When far from the haunts of man, and 
 after days and nights spent in the great oppressive yet 
 speaking silence, a little of the mantle of the East 
 descended upon me, a little of their longing to keep on 
 the move until reaching the Mecca of my dreams. 
 
A WAR CORRESPONDENT'S STORIES 257 
 
 I have even felt as though I must speak in BibHcal 
 language, all others seeming out of place and sympathy 
 with the surroundings. 
 
 All the movements of these animals are dignified, 
 yet they are silly fellows as well as grumblers ; they 
 cannot even decide for themselves what is good for 
 them to eat and what will upset their interior economy, 
 therefore they are rather an anxiety when travelHng 
 and have to be watched. I wonder if they see some 
 of those beautifully cruel mirages that no matter how 
 we pursue them are ever far away with mocking smiles 
 luring people on until they give up the struggle and 
 lie down to die. 
 
 How bitterly and sadly we think of all the gallant 
 promising men those sands have swallowed up. 
 
 " Of those who fought and those who fell 
 And those who bravely died, 
 Of those who bore our banners high 
 And battled side by side." 
 
 The Arabs call the mirage the Devil's Sea — *' Bahr 
 esh Sheitan." 
 
 Camels have little tricks of their own which it is well 
 to know ; it prevents our hearts from sinking into our 
 shoes unnecessarily. When they are tired and have 
 done enough, they lie down and wish you to under- 
 stand they are going to die ; it is just as well to 
 accept this attitude for a time without argument, but 
 do not believe it unless they stretch their heads out 
 backwards, then it means real business and all is 
 indeed up. 
 
 My memories carry me back to Town, the town — our 
 town London. Writing of the religious feeling that 
 belongs to the East and which seizes you whether you 
 wish it or no, reminds me of my religion at home and 
 some of the great preachers that have impressed me. 
 I have listened to many, none have so carried me off 
 my feet with religious emotion as Father Stanton of 
 St. Albans, Holborn ; at one time so much before the 
 public eye. Mr. Haweis of St. James's, Marylebone, 
 interested me, but more of him later. Cardinal 
 
258 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Manning of Westminster made me feel I wanted to 
 write poetry. Cardinal Newman of Oxford fame made 
 me feel I wished to renounce the world and join the 
 *' Silence Sisterhood/' but Mr. Stanton, known as 
 Father Stanton, made me feel I wanted to be good, 
 useful, bright, try and radiate joy wherever I went. 
 His well-bred, handsome and refined face was attrac- 
 tive ; then he was a lover of humanity, a powerful 
 preacher, and full of gentleness and pity. 
 
 He held very decided views of his own, not altogether 
 pleasing to the elect rulers of the Established Church 
 of England, and told them at intervals he did not 
 quite agree with their views or their ruling. It was 
 then suggested to him some other Faith, the Roman 
 Catholic for instance, might be more to his liking, but 
 he was sorry he could not oblige them. 
 
 He was a comparatively young man when first I 
 met him, full of energy born of health, blessed with 
 the gift of speech, intelligence and money, all of 
 which he spent lavishly in the service of his Master. 
 I think he must have been about thirty when first I 
 knew him. He gave me a most interesting account 
 of the services he and Mr. Mackonochie held when 
 first he went to St. Albans in 1862. They were held in 
 an underground basement ; I am not sure it had not 
 been a coal cellar, at any rate the only daylight that 
 reached the place came from the pavement somehow. 
 While the service was being conducted they were 
 greeted with cries from the street above of *' Halle- 
 luiah," *' Oh Jerusalem,'' ''Go it strong " and other 
 encouragements of the same sort. When we remember 
 St. Albans from 1876 to 1886, with its music, candles, 
 vestments, incense and ritualistic services, it seems 
 wonderful that in such a short time so great a change 
 could have come over the people, and a beautiful 
 church be built. 
 
 Many living people must remember what a com- 
 motion there was about Mr. Mackonochie and his 
 ritualistic practices at St. Albans ; his curate Mr. 
 Stanton, of course, sharing the obloquy. 
 
A WAR CORRESPONDENT'S STORIES 259 
 
 Mr. Tait, at that time Bishop of London, warned 
 Mr. Stanton if he went to St. Albans he would never 
 gain much recognition by the Established Church, 
 and this proved to be the case ; notwithstanding this 
 advice he went to St. Albans, and the one thing I 
 could not quite understand and which I regretted in 
 Mr. Stanton's life was the way he cared at being 
 passed over for preferment ; it really hurt him. 
 This seemed strange to me who knew him fairly well ; 
 in the first place, he could not expect it, he had been 
 told so plainly; secondty, I thought he was above 
 caring for anything of the kind. 
 
 Once when staying with us many years later, he 
 told me of all the wondrous dreams that filled his 
 brain and heart when he stood on the threshold of life, 
 of the great things he meant to do ; the world was 
 going to be a better place as the result of his work ; 
 the same ideas so many of us start life with, yet he 
 like the rest of us suffered disillusionment from the 
 desperate realities of life. At the end of his first year's 
 work, all his rose-tinted imaginings had died violent 
 deaths. 
 
 Mr. Stanton's first difference with his ecclesiastical 
 superiors took place while holding a Mission Service 
 for soldiers. The Chaplain-General fell out with him, 
 forbidding him ever again to preach in a Garrison 
 church or chapel, as he considered his preaching and 
 teaching Popish. 
 
 I think in 1886 Mr. Stanton's vicar was put in 
 prison for defying the law with regard ^to ritualistic 
 practices, the result being a notice was fastened on the 
 door, stating the services were prohibited as they 
 wished to hold them, and advising their congregation 
 to go to a neighbouring church where services were 
 held in the same manner as those forbidden at 
 St. Albans. Acting on this advice all trooped off to a 
 neighbouring church. 
 
 Mr. Stanton was a delightful person to have staying 
 in the house, being bright and gay, full of anecdote 
 and fun, more like an overgrown schoolboy, except 
 
26o MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 that he was always dignified, there was nothing 
 sanctimonious about him. 
 
 I remember as a girl hearing the St. Albans affairs 
 and the Purchase Judgment much discussed, Mr. 
 Purchase being a Brighton clergyman, and the decision 
 over that case apparently formed a rule to be followed 
 by other churches ; if I remember rightly it was all 
 a question of ritual and what should be worn, in the 
 way of vestments. 
 
 Some of Mr. Stanton's stories of his experience were 
 amusing, and he told them well. One parishioner, 
 wishing to speak kindly, suggested it was not wise to 
 use incense and processional lights. He replied, '* Did 
 you say not wise ? " 
 
 Parishioner : '' Yes." 
 
 Mr. Stanton : '' There are only two people called 
 ' Wise ' in the Gospels, the ' Wise Men ' who offered 
 incense, and the * Wise ' Virgins who carried pro- 
 cessional lights." 
 
 Another man who attended the church said he 
 disliked the '' smell of incense." " Well," replied the 
 parson, " there are two stinks in the next world, 
 incense and brimstone, and you've got to choose 
 between them." 
 
 Then there was an old woman amongst the poorest 
 of his flock who was bed-ridden, he often looked in to 
 see if he could do anything for her, and one day found 
 her in great pain. He suggested that a poultice might 
 be soothing and hurried off to buy some linseed ; he 
 returned to make the poultice, thinking it a simple 
 thing to do. The patient was feeling too ill to take 
 much notice of what he was doing, he had hoped she 
 would have given him some instructions as to the 
 usual mode of mixing linseed poultices. He looked 
 about and found an unsavoury-looking saucepan 
 which smelt of many things, into this he poured the 
 linseed bodily, adding enough water to float it. There 
 was a glimmer of fire which a neighbour occasionally 
 looked in to keep alight ; this he stoked and put the 
 saucepan on it. 
 
A WAR CORRESPONDENT'S STORIES 261 
 
 He had no idea it took so long to make a poultice, 
 and as it looked rather liquid he poured off some of 
 the water out in the street as he could find no other 
 suitable place ; this expedited matters and at last he 
 thought it must be warm enough, it was steaming; 
 but now was confronted with the problem of what 
 was he to do for a rag to place it on, he could find 
 nothing, not even a newspaper, so sacrificed his nice 
 clean pocket handkerchief, and turned the contents 
 of the saucepan upside down in the middle of it. 
 There was too much linseed, it threatened to 
 swamp the handkerchief, so he picked up the comers 
 quickly and told the old lady to prepare, he was 
 coming with a nice warm poultice ; a good portion of it 
 fell out on to the floor with a plop en route, the rest 
 the old lady said was cold and no use, she pushed it 
 away from her. Mr. Stanton said he himself felt it 
 was not altogether a success, it did not look like the 
 poultices he had been accustomed to, and he had made 
 a horrid mess, there was poultice on the floor, adhering 
 to the sides of the saucepan and on his clothes. There 
 was nothing to be done but go and find a charlady to 
 come and put all to rights, this he did and bought 
 some firing and other comforts for the old sufferer. 
 A few days later when he went to enquire after the 
 woman's health, he received a considerable wigging for 
 having spoilt her one and only saucepan ; he had to 
 go and buy another for her. After this he thought it 
 wise to have a lesson in poultice-making. 
 
 How the name of Father Stanton attached itself to 
 him I do not know, perhaps from the children who loved 
 him so well, with whom he used to play, and walk 
 along the streets holding their dirty, sticky little hands. 
 
 Father Stanton's preaching was remarkable, almost 
 jocular at times, and some of his similes so homely it 
 was impossible to help smiling. 
 
 On one occasion when he had chosen the text 
 " Fishers of Men " after a prolonged pause as though 
 thinking deeply, he continued, '* and what queer fish 
 we have caught ! " 
 
262 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Another evening after a most impassioned address 
 about seeking God's help in our daily lives, living with 
 him at our side, he stood still for a moment at the 
 back of the pulpit almost exhausted after throwing 
 his arms wide in eloquent entreaty to us, his black 
 hair tossed and falling over his white face, voice tired 
 and husky aftet raising it in almost beseeching 
 exhortation, then slowly moving to the front of the 
 pulpit again, he leaned far over it until I feared he 
 would fall out, clasping his hands tightly together 
 without speaking a word he turned his head looking 
 at the whole congregation from right to left, then in 
 almost a whisper, '' Let us go home and ask God to 
 put us to bed ! '' It was surprising but very telling. 
 
 At times he quite took my breath away. Once 
 instead of giving a text out of the Bible he chose an 
 epitaph from a tombstone he had seen in Brittany, 
 which he translated for the benefit of his congregation 
 thus, '' Born a man and died a grocer." I think he 
 dehghted in surprising and perhaps shocking people 
 into attention. 
 
 At one time there had been an animated discussion 
 between the Vicar of St. Albans and the Authorities 
 over carrying the Cross in front of the procession from 
 the vestry to their seats in the chancel ; they might 
 process as much as they liked but must not carry the 
 Cross in front of the choir. During the usual proces- 
 sion the hymn was sung : 
 
 " Onward, Christian soldiers, 
 Marching as to war, 
 With the Cross of Jesus 
 Carried on before." 
 
 So Father Stanton quite solemnly altered the last 
 line to '' Left behind the door ! " 
 
 Sunday was not the only day Father Stanton 
 preached, but on Monday evenings as well and with 
 neither choir nor ritual, only prayer, a hymn sung by 
 the congregation, and then his sermon. I have many 
 times seen the church so packed that people were 
 standing right up to the altar and glad to stand 
 
A WAR CORRESPONDENT'S STORIES 263 
 
 through the whole service to hear him preach, crowds 
 waiting outside in the hope of finding room. The New 
 Year services at St. Albans were things to remember 
 for the rest of our lives, it seemed to be a special 
 service for the poor, they had asked for it. There was 
 going to be no midnight service, but some of the 
 lowhest rang the bell of the Clergy House and asked 
 him to see the old year out and the new one in with 
 them in church. The Vicar gave his consent and ever 
 after the midnight service seemed more especially 
 their own. Up to twelve o'clock he talked to them of 
 the past and the many mistakes made by us all, a few 
 minutes before twelve he told us what to pray for and 
 how to pray, on the stroke of twelve we all knelt down 
 and I think all prayed, when the last stroke of twelve 
 had died away he rose from his knees in the pulpit and 
 exhorted us in words of encouragement to '' try 
 again.'' 
 
 I have been told that at the end of one of these 
 services when many of his congregations wanted to see 
 their favourite come out of the church, one poor 
 woman who had been most attentive and who had 
 already had more than was good for her pressed up to 
 Father Stanton and pushed sixpence into his hand 
 saying, *' Father, you must be dry, go and get a 
 drink." He put the money in the alms-box at the 
 church door. 
 
 I heard him preach a begging sermon once ; he did 
 not like doing this and very seldom would do so, but 
 when he did was successful. Men turned out their 
 trousers pockets searching for silver, women took off 
 their rings and bangles and put them into the plate, he 
 asked for nothing in vain, not even souls, for he 
 gathered in many. 
 
 One New Year's Eve which happened to fall on a 
 Saturday, as soon as Father Stanton began to preach, 
 a woman who was seated astride on the back of one 
 of the seats and also had been refreshing, shouted out, 
 *' You ain't no preacher, come out of it," to which 
 some of the rough men near said, " You let the gentle- 
 
264 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 man alone or we'll knock you silly " ; she was led out of 
 the church by one of the curates and was heard running 
 through her vocabulary as she went growing fainter 
 and fainter in the distance. 
 
 I wonder how many clergymen would have said, 
 " You must not come to church tipsy, you must not 
 talk, you must not sit astride in the pews '' ; there was 
 no rebuke from Father Stanton, he wanted them to 
 come anyway, anyhow, he wanted the sinners, drunkards 
 and thieves and he got them. He did not want them 
 to wait and wash and dress in Sunday clothes, but 
 to come as they were. 
 
 After fifty years of work amongst the poor, Father 
 Stanton died. 
 
 His funeral was wonderful, there is no other word 
 to describe it. His coffin was wheeled on a low bier, 
 followed by Boy Scouts, Postmen, Watercress-sellers, 
 Dukes, Duchesses, Sisters of Mercy, Clergy of many 
 denominations, the Rev. R. J. Campbell from the 
 City Church, Rag-pickers, Orange girls. Hawkers 
 selHng his memorial card on which was written, '' The 
 blessings of the poor follow him, for he was their best 
 friend for fifty years." 
 
 The procession was over a mile long. The poor are 
 so respectful to the dead. 
 
 The words Father Stanton wished written over his 
 grave are, '' God had made of one blood all nations 
 of men." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE TENNYSONS AND OTHERS 
 
 The Rev. H. R. Haweis — Calls on the Tennysons — His Reception at 
 Farringford — Theatrical Ladies in His Choir — Magic Lanterns 
 in Church — Tennyson the Picturesque at Afreton — I meet Mr. 
 Parnell — He Asks a Question and Receives an Unexpected Answer 
 — His Views on Ireland's Viceroys — His Funeral — Sir West and 
 Lady Ridgeway — Lady Ridgeway's Pluck — Three Ridgeway 
 Brothers — A Ghost in the Under-Secretary's Lodge — The Duke of 
 Clarence's Illness— The ChUd She-Bear. 
 
 THE Rev. H. R. Haweis was quite another 
 stamp of man and most interesting ; at the 
 time I knew him when at St. James's, Maryle- 
 bone, he attracted crowds to his church, men pre- 
 dominating, which is unusual. He was even more 
 surprising than Mr. Stanton, but in a different way — 
 being of an artistic temperament and music mad, if I 
 may use such an expression. Music, the vioHn in par- 
 ticular, was the joy of his life. I used to think he would 
 have made his fortune on the stage. 
 
 As a boy he had been delicate, suffering from hip 
 disease, and Sir Benjamin Brodie expressed the opinion 
 he would not live long. His father sent him to Brighton 
 for his health, where he grew much stronger. He was 
 then sent to a tutor at Freshwater in the Isle of Wight, 
 at that time a very quiet little spot. Not being able 
 to play games like other boys he mooned about with 
 books and his beloved violin. 
 
 He told me a story in connection with this visit to 
 the Isle of Wight. The Tennysons were at Farring- 
 ford House, and he was most anxious to see the poet ; 
 with this in view he wandered about the lanes and 
 woods near the house, but never caught a glimpse of 
 him ; he then went regularly to church, thinking 
 that might be a find — but no, Mr. Tennyson did 
 
 265 
 
266 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 not go to church in the Isle of Wight ; he now made 
 himself quite miserable, being in a far advanced stage 
 of hero worship. At last he decided he would go to 
 Farringford House and ask to see Mr. Tennyson. Yes, 
 that was what he would do. Why not ? Most simple. 
 
 Having quite made up his mind on this point he 
 felt happier, and not until he had rung the front-door 
 bell did he feel any qualms, but the clanging of the 
 bell as it echoed through the house filled him with 
 alarm and it occurred to him for the first time that his 
 visit might appear presumptuous ; and he had no 
 idea what he was going to say, or what reason to give 
 for his visit. He meditated running away; too late, 
 the door was opened and a demure maid stood in front 
 of him, so he asked if he could see Mr. Tennyson, 
 being told in reply that Mr. Tennyson saw nobody ; 
 this he already knew quite well, but having got so 
 far he was not going to give in without a struggle, so 
 he asked if Mrs. Tennyson was at home, perhaps she 
 would see him ; the maid said she would go and enquire, 
 returning shortly to say '' Yes,'* would he walk in. 
 
 With hat in hand and heart in mouth he followed 
 the maid into a pretty drawing-room, it was empty ; 
 he was trembling from emotion, for was he not in the 
 house of the great man, actually treading where he had 
 trod. There was a picture of the poet in the room 
 (or photo, I forget which), he went up to it and was 
 indulging in raptures when Mrs. Tennyson entered 
 the room. He bowed, she bowed, and waited some 
 explanation of his visit, what he wanted to see her 
 for. He was sorry he did not know ; he stuttered and 
 stammered, then said, '*I want to see Mr. Tennyson." 
 
 Mrs. Tennyson: *' But I am afraid he is too busy.'' 
 
 Mr. H. : '* Oh, but do ask him to see me." Then 
 thinking she certainly took him for a lunatic, he 
 launched forth all about his admiration for the poet. 
 
 Mrs. Tennyson listened while he explained the state 
 of his feelings and his desire to behold the hero of his 
 dreams. 
 
 At last the kind-hearted motherly Mrs. Tennyson 
 
THE TENNYSONS AND OTHERS 267 
 
 took pity on the youth and went to see if her husband 
 would come and be seen. After she had left the 
 room Mr. Haweis became so nervous he almost hoped 
 the man would not come, for he had no explanation 
 to give for his visit that did not sound mad ; he 
 listened anxiously for footsteps, presently he heard a 
 man's voice outside the door say, '* Is he an impostor, 
 do you think ? What does he want ? " Oh ! how he 
 wished he could fly away before the door opened, 
 which it did almost at once. Mr. Tennyson entered ; 
 Mr. Haweis was speechless. Could this ordinary looking 
 man possibly be the poet, no lily in his hand, no laurel 
 wreath on his head ; what was the proper thing to 
 do, should he fall flat on his face, go on his knees, or 
 what ? Mr. Tennyson looked suspiciously at him, 
 spoke a few not very cordial words, and went out of 
 the room again, leaving Mr. Haweis standing, as far 
 as I could gather, in a stage-struck attitude. 
 
 Mrs. Tennyson talked kindly to him while he 
 recovered himself a little, he then begged her to give 
 him some writing or a signature of her husband's ; 
 she took up an envelope lying beside her addressed 
 to herself and gave it to him. He went away delighted 
 and now quite happy. I wonder whether it really 
 was Tennyson's writing or a stray envelope she took 
 up just to get rid of him. 
 
 This visit was paid while Tennyson was writing 
 Maud, which the critics cut up so mercilessly, that 
 of course helped to sell it. 
 
 When telling me of the Farringford story Mr. Haweis 
 said he had blushed many times since at his daring, 
 his *' impulsive cheek," and that he had met the 
 Tennysons somewhere years afterwards and had asked 
 them if they remembered his impertinence, but they 
 had entirely forgotten all about it. 
 
 When in 1856 Mr. Haweis entered Trinity College, 
 Cambridge, he was given an introduction to Dr. 
 Whewell (the master), whom I have always heard 
 spoken of as a most disagreeable and rude man. Dr. 
 Whewell sent for Haweis and asked him what were 
 
268 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 his aims and ambitions in life. Haweis replied he 
 had none, but loved the fiddle. 
 
 Haweis regarded Dr. Whewell as an intellectual 
 monarch, but owned he himself did little work while 
 at the University beyond writing a number of news- 
 paper articles on all sorts of subjects, starting a 
 University Magazine called The Lion, quickly followed 
 by another called The Bear, which was clever, and 
 owned by Mr. George Otto Trevelyan, who had lately 
 come up from Harrow and who filled its pages with 
 good-natured parodies and banter on articles appearing 
 in The Lion, The poor Lion expired after three 
 numbers had been circulated. Somebody suggested 
 another magazine should be started entitled " David 
 who Slew the Lion and the Bear." Mr. Haweis' views 
 of the University training agree with mine, my experi- 
 ence having been that those amongst my relations 
 and friends who have been there have learnt nothing 
 more than they knew when they went up in the way of 
 educational knowledge, but a good deal not quite so 
 desirable. Mr. Haweis said all the knowledge that had 
 been any real use to him he acquired after the Uni- 
 versity had proclaimed him Master of Arts ; the know- 
 ledge had enabled him to make money with his pen, 
 write books, preach sermons, give lectures, organise 
 parishes, edit journals and so forth ; and this was not 
 what the University training imparted, discouraged 
 it rather than otherwise. 
 
 I remember there was a great commotion when Mr. 
 Haweis introduced magic-lantern pictures during his 
 services in Marylebone. I think he must have been the 
 first to use them in his church ; it was considered very 
 wicked in those days — unheard-of secularity. Then 
 he played his violin in church and had theatrical 
 ladies in his choir, which set everybody buzzing ; 
 his idea was to make his services attractive and he 
 certainly succeeded, his church used to be crammed ; 
 at first they went out of curiosity and remained because 
 interested. 
 
 His first rise towards fame came when he was curate 
 
THE TENNYSONS AND OTHERS 269 
 
 at St. James the Less, Westminster. Dean Alford 
 (Dean of Canterbury), editor of The Contemporary 
 Review, gave him some work to do, asking him to write 
 a page or two for him on a couple of volumes of Mozart's 
 letters. This was his first remunerative work, and the 
 article he wrote attracted so much attention his literary 
 fortune was made. The following week more volumes 
 arrived for review. 
 
 Amongst his intimate friends were Mendelssohn, 
 whose Songs Without Words are to be found in almost 
 every home, Piatti, prince of violoncellists, Joachim, 
 who played Bach's Chaconne so beautifully at the 
 early age of fifteen or sixteen, poor Chopin, dying of 
 consumption, playing in the drawing-rooms of the 
 rich nightly, and many more. Music was the joy of 
 Mr. Haweis' life ; he had a theory that it is a great 
 healer, and nerve soother, that it should become a 
 powerful and acknowledged therapeutic. Certainly we 
 are often told our illnesses are due to disordered nerves, 
 so if music would cure us what a charming remedy. 
 Mr. Haweis said there was the stimulant of music, 
 and the lubricant, each to be applied in their different 
 ways. 
 
 He preached on this subject once, saying that 
 music was the discipline of emotion. I remember 
 him throwing out his arms in his theatrical way and 
 saying : 
 
 ** What is the ruin of art ? 
 
 What is the ruin of life ? 
 
 What mars happiness, de- 
 stroys manliness ? 
 
 SulHes womanhood, spoils 
 success ? 
 
 Ill-regulated emotions, 
 
 " If there is one thing more important than knowing 
 self it is governing self." 
 
 He then pointed out how music was to regulate the 
 emotions. 
 
 I think some people could have told him it did 
 much the reverse ! 
 
270 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 There is, however, no doubt Mr. Haweis was a 
 man of considerable musical ability. He died in 1901 
 at the age of sixty-three, leaving a number of books 
 he wrote at one time and another during his life ; his 
 Music and Morals had a great sale. 
 
 The man was an artist and everything he said and 
 did was for effect. I do not think people always realise 
 that Art is not always spontaneous, but the result 
 often of hard work and considerable thought. Yet 
 this has been proved many times when we chance 
 to catch glimpses of the private documents of 
 great men. 
 
 There is a well-known advocate living to-day who 
 marks his briefs down the margins to remind him 
 where a little theatrical effect will be helpful to press 
 a point. Thus — *' Angry — angrier. . . .'' 
 
 There was once a clergyman who preached a sermon 
 that moved his congregation to tears. A bed-ridden 
 parishioner told him she regretted so much not having 
 been able to go and hear it as her son had told her it was 
 ''most beautiful," so the parson said he would lend it 
 to her to read, quite forgetting his marginal notes of 
 '' Voice must tremble with emotion here,'' a little 
 further down *' Cry here." 
 
 A certain newspaper correspondent I have met, 
 when being sent abroad for his paper, made out his 
 line of campaign before starting on the back of an 
 envelope, thus : '' Exciting journey." '' Must be lost 
 here." '' Reward offered." '' Found suffering from 
 privations." All nicely arranged before starting from 
 his home ! Surely this is Art with a very big A. 
 
 Mr. Haweis' story of Tennyson reminds me of the 
 first time I saw the poet when dining at Afreton, 
 Mr. Ben Cotton's place at Freshwater, during the time 
 he was Master of the I.O.W. Hounds. 
 
 It was summer, and when we came out from dinner 
 we found the whole grounds illuminated with hundreds 
 of small Chinese lanterns of many colours, hanging 
 from trees and shrubs, as well as arranged along the 
 edge of the lake in front of the house, quite a fairy- 
 
THE TENNYSONS AND OTHERS 271 
 
 land effect ; I wonder it did not inspire Tennyson into 
 writing an ode to it, but perhaps it did. The French 
 window of the drawing-room at Afreton opened on to 
 the lawn. I was half in the room and half out when 
 Mr. Tennyson, who had been to fetch his hat and 
 cloak, came to talk to me. What an artist he was to 
 the finger-tips, every movement of studied grace, he 
 looked a poet and felt a poet. As he approached me 
 he threw one end of his cloak over his shoulder, leaned 
 back against the window-frame, the subdued light 
 from the drawing-room falling on his face, the back- 
 ground of the creeper-covered house, and beyond, the 
 fairy lamps amongst the shadows of the trees. The 
 picture was perfect and Tennyson knew it, felt it. 
 The way he dressed his hair, the way he wore his beard 
 and moustache combined, made an artistic frame for 
 his thoughtful eyes, lofty brow, and benevolent nose. 
 
 His clothes added to his picturesqueness, though I 
 must confess I have longed at times to adjust his tie, 
 turn his collar down comfortably; there was always 
 the wide flap of his coat, lapel, I think tailors term it, 
 crumpled up and trying to squeeze from under his 
 cloak or greatcoat, yet none of it appeared studied, 
 on the contrary quite natural. 
 
 I have heard it stated that he was disagreeable and 
 inclined to snub people. I am glad I never saw that 
 side of him if it was there. I thought him charming 
 and refined, and he loved gardens, trees and birds, as 
 I do. We used to enthuse over them. I feel I know 
 the mood he was in when he wrote those lines, 
 
 *' There seemed no room for sense of wrong, , 
 The woods were filled so full of song." 
 
 Yet at times after talking to Lord Tennyson I have 
 wondered if he understood himself or his poetry. 
 Someone once said it is a mistake for people to be 
 famous in their lifetimes. If they Uve long enough 
 the world begins to think they are not half such fine 
 fellows as they thought they were. This rather applied 
 to Tennyson. Before he died he was a little out of 
 favour, one heard it suggested he was not as great as 
 
272 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 had been imagined. He felt the way the critics cut 
 up his In Memoriam, the work that was so much 
 hked by the pubUc. 
 
 Looking back over the number of people I have met 
 at one time and another I am glad to have known 
 Charles Parnell, the inscrutable Pamell who was so 
 prominently before the public at one time. 
 
 I think it was in 1889 a friend asked me if she might 
 bring Mr. Parnell to one of my Sunday afternoons 
 in London as he wished very much to meet me. I 
 gladly consented; that was the first of many visits. 
 I came to the conclusion he either wanted me to do 
 something for him or to find out something from me. 
 A relation of mine was Under-Secretary for Ireland at 
 the time, so I scented danger. He seemed to think I 
 must know a great deal about Irish happenings, and 
 what was going on at the Castle. As a matter of fact 
 I did not know much, and if I had, I should naturally 
 have held my own counsel. 
 
 During either the second or third call he said, 
 '' You know Lord S., do you not ? " I replied 
 I did and had been dining there a few evenings pre- 
 viously. Mr. Parnell then said, '* Do you happen 
 to know whether he personally thinks I was in any 
 way connected with Burke's murder ? and what his 
 opinion is about these forgeries ? " Now it so happened 
 there had been considerable discussion on these sub- 
 jects ; the Pamell Commission was sitting at the time 
 if I remember rightly, to inquire into these forgeries, 
 and the general concensus of opinion had not been in 
 Mr. ParnelFs favour. Lord S. had spoken rather 
 severely. I therefore turned from a direct reply, 
 saying, *' His lordship did not tell me any secrets, 
 but offered me a golden crown if I would bring to him 
 your head on a charger." He looked amused and 
 grasped that pumping me was no use. Mr. Pamell 
 could not laugh, and I mistrust all who cannot do so ; 
 the nearest to a real laugh I ever saw or heard from 
 the Irish leader was on this occasion. 
 
 We had various little fencing matches after this. I 
 
THE TENNYSONS AND OTHERS 273 
 
 could never quite convince myself that Pamell was 
 really sincere in his love for the Irish, their rights and 
 wrongs, nevertheless I liked to hear him talk of what 
 he called the ** cruel injustice " from which they 
 suffered. His eyes, which were soft and plaintive- 
 looking at ordinary times, became the yellow-red- 
 brown of a burnished chestnut when angry or 
 excited. 
 
 Although not quite convinced of his true feelings 
 concerning the Irish, I was never in any doubt about 
 his feelings for the English. He hated them all. At 
 heart a Tory, and loving a fight, he could not endure 
 cringing or flattering. Mr. Pamell's appearance was 
 striking, he carried himself well with dignified bearing 
 and had charming manners. There was no mistaking 
 him for anything but a gentleman, and I should have 
 said a self-respecting gentleman if it had not been for 
 his habitual untidiness, his hair was always unkempt, 
 looking as if it had been accidentally overlooked in 
 the morning's toilet, while his clothes might have 
 been put on with a pitchfork ; this did not seem to me 
 to run kindly with self-respect. 
 
 For sheer audacity he would have been hard to 
 beat ; the Irish loved him for it, they went wild over 
 him, but he never became passionate either when 
 speaking or during great moments. A relation of mine 
 was travelling with him from Dublin or Athlone 
 once during the zenith of his success. A large crowd 
 came to the station to see him off, handkerchiefs were 
 waving, hats thrown up in the air ; and there was 
 every expression of affection and approval. Parnell 
 looked on quite unmoved, until someone pointed out 
 to him a young woman who was so carried away by 
 her feelings and having nothing handy with which to 
 illustrate them, waved her unhappy baby backwards 
 and forwards in the air — a sort of dot and dash signal 
 business. He was obliged to smile, a gentle relaxation 
 of the muscles of his mouth. The people were so 
 amused they rocked with laughter. I have been told 
 Mr. Pamell laughed heartily but I have my doubts. 
 
274 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 and my relations did not hear it, but there are other 
 versions of this story. 
 
 While so composed outwardly, I believe inwardly 
 Mr. Parnell was consumed with intense feeling, an 
 ever-abiding excitement, and that was what made him 
 always in a hurry ; he could never wait for anything ; 
 to wait for a train was anguish to him, he would have 
 liked a special always and to travel at the rate of 
 sixty miles an hour. He never wrote letters if he could 
 help it, but sent telegrams, bundles of telegrams. In 
 the same way if people wrote letters to him they were 
 laid on one side, possibly forgotten, but a telegram 
 was attended to on the spot. I once received three 
 telegrams from him in as many hours, and none of 
 them of any consequence. 
 
 It was difficult when talking to Mr. Parnell to believe 
 he could be the cruel man that I fear he was. His voice 
 was gentle, his speech cultured, yet there was no getting 
 away from the fact that he was responsible for the 
 cattle maiming and torture of dumb animals in Ireland. 
 I dared to say something of this to him once when he 
 was stating his love for animals. He stoutly denied 
 being a party to it and said the people were excitable 
 and got out of hand, nobody deplored the sufferings 
 of the maimed cattle more than he did. This did not 
 satisfy me, as it was at a time when one word from 
 him would, I believe, have put an end to it. Besides, 
 the responsibiUty rested with him if the people did 
 get out of hand, he must have known, if anybody did, 
 the temperament of the people, and when he founded 
 the Land League and suggested boycotting and agrarian 
 outrages, what they might lead to. 
 
 Talking to me one day, not long before the end of 
 his life, when he was in a very bitter and dejected 
 mood, he gave me at some length his opinions of 
 Ireland's Viceroys during his time. He said Lord 
 Aberdeen in 1886 (I think, if I remember the date 
 correctly) was the only man who knew anything 
 about Ireland or cared anything about her. I asked, 
 " What of Lord Londonderry ? " 
 
THE TENNYSONS AND OTHERS 275 
 
 " Oh, he is no use at all, but has not enough brains 
 to do much harm, a child could see through his little 
 schemes/' 
 
 ** And what of Lord Spencer ? " 
 
 *' Deceitful old liar, thinks if he hides his head behind 
 somebody else that we cannot see his legs/' 
 
 " Then I am afraid you have not a very exalted 
 opinion of any of them ? '' 
 
 ''I do not look for brains amongst the inbred 
 aristocracy ; the rising generation may be an improve- 
 ment, a few have been bold enough to break away 
 from the old family traditions and have married clever 
 American women. The ordinary education of English 
 gentlemen's sons at Eton and Oxford is not calculated 
 to turn out brilliant statesmen. One I know at the 
 present moment is a brilliant example of an hereditary 
 legislator, when writing to me the other day spelt 
 barracks with one ' r ' and no ' c ' ! While one of your 
 leading statesmen confessed not long ago that he had 
 not been taught geography and did not know where 
 the Philippine Islands were." 
 
 ** But Eton and Harrow, Oxford and Cambridge 
 have turned out some of our greatest statesmen, 
 soldiers and sailors," I replied. 
 
 ** In the past yes, not much was asked, nothing 
 questioned, but that will not do to-day, the people 
 are educated and interested." 
 
 Parnell died hopelessly in debt and no longer the 
 idol of the Irish people ; they could not forgive his 
 lapse and more especially his being found out over the 
 O'Shea matrimonial trouble. 
 
 The attitude of the press and of Parnell's friends 
 amused me when the divorce case came on. The Irish 
 people felt aggrieved, they had been deceived, had 
 received a cold douche. One or two papers stood up 
 for him saying his private Hfe had nothing to do with 
 his politics, another remarked perhaps there were 
 more members who had not kept all the command- 
 ments. Gladstone said he had done with Parnell, 
 and henceforth washed his hands of him. 
 
276 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Parnell told me Gladstone was a '' canting old fool," 
 I also gathered he considered it had been a got-up 
 case all through and he was utterly disgusted with 
 everybody concerned. Of course it was the end of his 
 political career. 
 
 As soon as it was possible after the divorce Parnell 
 married Mrs. O'Shea and five months later died 
 suddenly at Brighton, some say of inflammation of 
 the lungs, others say by his own hand. I cannot say 
 which, but lean towards the latter, for he was ruined 
 politically, ruined financially, and possibly, as has 
 happened time and time again, the woman who has 
 been the means of ruining a man's life ceases to hold 
 his heart-strings when able to marry. Besides this, 
 certain things he said led me to the conclusion he no 
 longer wished to live or thought it possible to do so. 
 
 I was in Dublin staying at the Under-Secretary's 
 Lodge at the time of Parnell's funeral. I wanted to 
 go and see it but was told it was not considered wise 
 for the Government liveries to be seen for fear it might 
 lead to disturbance. The funeral procession and service 
 passed off quite quietly, there was no sort of demon- 
 stration. He was buried in Glasnevin Cemetery, 
 Dublin. 
 
 While staying at the Under-Secretary's Lodge with 
 the Ridgeways I asked if it was true that the grass 
 would not grow on the place where Lord Frederick 
 Cavendish and Mr. Burke were murdered ? 
 
 Lady Ridgeway said yes, it was quite true, but 
 because the crowd of people who went to see the place 
 trampled it so much, that the grass had no chance of 
 growing. This rather threw down my mystic romance, 
 as I had been told the grass would never grow on the 
 place and remained bare in the shape of a cross. 
 
 Ireland was anything but settled even when I was 
 there on this visit in 1891. I think I felt quite as 
 nervous of the Irish Police walking up and down and 
 around the Lodge for our protection as I did of the 
 Fenians. I asked Lady Ridgeway if she ever felt 
 nervous, she said no, but she had felt uncomfortable 
 
THE TENNYSONS AND OTHERS 277 
 
 once or twice. One evening she was sitting in the 
 drawing-room reading in an arm-chair close to the 
 fireplace with her little dog on her lap. She was quite 
 alone, as Sir West was staying at Barons Court with 
 the Abercorns. All the servants were at supper far 
 away at the other end of the house. The conservatory 
 opened out of the drawing-room and had a door at 
 the far end leading into the garden. All was very 
 quiet. Presently there came to Lady Ridge way the 
 curious feeling we have when people are looking at 
 us, and she raised her eyes from her book in time to 
 see a man's dirty hand holding back a little corner of 
 the blind that was hanging between the drawing- 
 room and the greenhouse. She never moved, but held 
 her book up as if still reading and quietly pressed a 
 finger on the electric bell close to her by the fireplace. 
 When the butler answered the bell she said, *' I think 
 there is someone in the conservatory, will you please 
 look ? " The butler moved towards the blind, when 
 there was a great clatter of falling flower-pots, a 
 scuttling of feet, and the door at the far end slammed 
 to violently. Lady Ridgeway never knew for certain 
 who it was, but had a shrewd guess. I really think 
 she was very brave. 
 
 One dark November night, the butler came in after 
 dinner to say a man who looked very rough and common 
 wanted to see her ladyship and would not go away ; 
 the man was most insistent, what should he do ? 
 
 Lady Ridgeway said he was to ask what the man 
 wanted. This he had already done, only to be told 
 he would not see anybody but her ladyship. 
 
 She then said, '' Bring the man here to me and wait 
 outside the door. If I want you I will touch the 
 bell." 
 
 After waiting a short time the servant returned 
 ushering in a big, rough, dirty-looking man in workaday 
 clothes. He seemed very agitated, and coming fairly 
 close up to her, said he wanted her to go and see his 
 wife who was dying. Lady Ridgeway asked a few 
 questions as to where his wife lived and what was the 
 
278 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 matter, etc. At first she thought it might only be a 
 ruse, but eventually decided to go, for the man said 
 he was very anxious, fearing his wife might die without 
 seeing the lady. So putting on some wraps, she told 
 the man she would go with him. The butler implored 
 her to let him go with her as a protector, but she 
 declined, saying that would be the way to make trouble, 
 she would rather go alone and trust the man. This 
 she did, being led down narrow, dark alleys with rough- 
 looking people standing at their doors, and passing 
 remarks. 
 
 At last the man stopped in front of a house in a 
 row of shabby buildings. He struck a match to show 
 her the way in, and led her up a narrow staircase to 
 the bedside of a woman evidently very ill, whose whole 
 face lit up when Lady Ridge way entered the room. 
 The poor woman said she had often seen Lady Ridge- 
 way driving about in Dublin and admired her sweet, 
 pretty face so much. She had never seen anybody so 
 beautiful and had longed to see her near and speak 
 to her, and now she would die happy. After sitting 
 by the woman for some time while a crowd of relations 
 and friends looked on and used up every vestige of air 
 that was sadly needed by the sick woman Lady 
 Ridge way left, saying she would send all the nice things 
 she thought would do the patient good, and descended 
 the rickety stairs on her return home. The husband, 
 waiting by the door, escorted her on the return 
 journey, gruffly thanked her for coming, refused any 
 offer of money to get dainties for his wife, and left 
 Lady Ridge way safely at her own front door, where 
 the household were gathered together holding con- 
 clave as to the best steps to take to find her possibly 
 murdered body. Lady Ridgeway is dead now. I 
 think she was one of the bravest women I ever knew, 
 and always without any sort of fuss. 
 
 Once when her married sister was very ill and stay- 
 ing with her people, Lady Ridgeway, at that time quite 
 a girl, on returning from a ball in the small hours of 
 the morning looked into her sister's room as she had 
 
THE TENNYSONS AND OTHERS 279 
 
 promised to do, and was asked if she could fill an 
 india-rubber bag with hot water to save calling the 
 nurse who was asleep in the next room. The light was 
 very low and Lady Ridgeway was very short-sighted, 
 but she managed to fill the bag from the kettle boiling 
 on the hob, kissed her sister good night and went 
 away. Not until the next day did anybody know that 
 she had seriously scalded her hand and arm, necessi- 
 tating a doctor being sent for to dress it. Yet she had 
 made no sound nor dropped the bag, for fear of alarm- 
 ing her sister. 
 
 She was a pretty girl, a beautiful woman and a 
 devoted wife and mother. 
 
 Sir West Ridgeway was, and is, a clever man, one of 
 three clever brothers, all self-made men from their own 
 abihty : Fred Ridgeway is the present Bishop of 
 Salisbury, a good preacher in his own line ; Charles 
 Ridgeway, Bishop of Chichester, a most eloquent 
 preacher, with great charm of manner, who, while 
 treading the straight road according to the Established 
 Church of England's ruling, has not been deprived of 
 his personality or become narrow-minded, so unsancti- 
 monious and natural has he remained that I should 
 hardly know him to be a bishop but for his frills and 
 sleeves. 
 
 Of all the professions when they get to the top of 
 the tree I think the Church is the most pompous and 
 priggish. I once asked the Rev. Charles if he was a 
 great stickler for dogma, if he was narrow-minded, 
 and if he allowed there were more paths than one to 
 heaven ? He replied, *' I am careful to see the founda- 
 tions of the Faith are soundly laid, the superstructure 
 may take different styles of theological architecture.'' 
 
 He was one of the founders of the Church and Stage 
 Guild, at one time so much criticised, and is glad that 
 the principles he upheld are generally adopted in the 
 Theatrical Guild as it now exists. 
 
 His views on temperance are rational. He says 
 nations cannot be made sober by law, temptations 
 may be diminished, and the public-houses so improved 
 
28o MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 that they are not only drinking houses, but places 
 where wholesome food and recreation may be found. 
 
 He was selected preacher, Cambridge, in 1890 and 
 1907, Golden Lectureship 1900. Amongst other high- 
 sounding titles he is Grand Chaplain of Freemasons, 
 Scotland 1883 and England 1899, and author of various 
 theological books. 
 
 Sir West Ridgeway has had many important posts 
 and is a feom diplomatist. Of his many appointments 
 the place where Lady Ridgeway was happiest was in 
 the Isle of Man when her husband was Governor. I 
 have always thought the time when he was Governor 
 of Ceylon caused the final breakdown of his wife's 
 health. She was not strong enough either for the 
 climate or the amount of entertaining it entailed. I 
 noticed in her letters after our present King and Queen, 
 then Duke and Duchess of York, were staying with 
 them that she spoke of always feeling tired, there 
 was so much to do and so much to arrange. 
 
 Rather a thrilling ghost story was told to me by 
 Lady Ridgeway of certain extraordinary occurrences 
 while she was at the Under-Secretary's Lodge in Dublin. 
 I should not like to say I am a believer in ghosts, 
 neither dare I say I am not, for fear I should see one ; 
 I am a great believer in spirits being near us, especially 
 of those we have loved, but ghosts ! I don't know 
 what to say. At any rate Lady Ridgeway was neither 
 a nervous nor imaginative person, and she told me 
 the story herself, so I accept it. 
 
 She slept in the room where Lord Frederick Caven- 
 dish had been brought after he was murdered. Nothing 
 unusual occurred until the time I have already spoken 
 of when Sir West was staying at Barons Court and 
 Lady Ridgeway had not been well enough to go with 
 him. While he was away she arranged that her maid 
 should sleep in her room in a temporary bed arranged 
 at the foot of her own. As nearly as I can remember 
 the story, she was suddenly awakened one night by 
 her bedroom door bursting open with considerable 
 violence as though some gale of wind had done it, 
 
THE TENNYSONS AND OTHERS 281 
 
 which could not have been the case as there was no 
 wind. After the door had been burst open, steps were 
 heard going down the passage ; the maid got up and 
 looked down the passage to see who it was, but saw 
 nobody, and they went to bed again, locking the door. 
 The next night they locked the door to begin with, 
 the same thing happened, so the next day it was 
 arranged that one of their private detectives, con- 
 sidered necessary while in Ireland, should sleep in 
 the dressing-room opposite, where he could watch the 
 door and see if anybody came along the passage. All 
 was quiet until early morning, when the door was 
 burst open with such violence that the detective 
 rushed to see what had happened and followed the 
 footsteps along the passage up the servants' staircase 
 to an attic over their rooms. Every corner was 
 searched, even empty boxes turned inside out and upside 
 down, but nothing was ever found to account for it. 
 The servants heard the footsteps, the nervous ones 
 gave notice, the brave remained. 
 
 Up to the time I was told this story I had been 
 under the impression ghosts were the outcome of 
 heavy dinners or suppers and poor digestions ; but 
 now, hearing this story, I have been more reserved 
 in my judgments. 
 
 The detectives were unable to make anything out 
 of it but were certain of the occurrence. 
 
 When the Duke of Clarence was taken ill it was 
 feared at first that some oysters eaten when dining 
 with the Ridgeways had been the cause of the mis- 
 chief ; this worried them very much, but it was 
 afterwards proved beyond doubt that they were 
 eaten elsewhere. I asked Colonel Stanley Clarke if 
 he thought Queen Alexandra was quite satisfied on 
 this point, and he said '* Quite." 
 
 On Sunday afternoons in Ireland Lady Ridgeway 
 used to play for her daughter and her little friends 
 to sing their favourite hymns, each choosing the 
 one she liked best. When it came to the turn of one 
 of the children staying there to name the hymn she 
 
282 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 desired the number could not be remembered, but the 
 child said she knew it was about '' Child She-Bears." 
 This puzzled the accompanist, who could not think 
 of any hymn that referred to anything of the kind, 
 but at last it dawned upon her it was the hymn that 
 has a verse in which the following appears : 
 
 " Can a woman's tender care 
 Cease toward the child she bare ? " 
 
 The child who asked for this hymn was one of the 
 Dundas's, I forget which, but think it was the present 
 Lady Fitzwilliam of Went worth- Woodhouse. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MR. JAMES LOWTHER 
 
 Mr. James Lowther, His Father's Valet — Member for York — Of Jockey 
 Club — Stockton and Redcar Races — His Best Horses — Their 
 Triumphs — Gimcrack Speeches — A Row — Lord Durham and the 
 Bishop — Mr. Lowther 's Tailor — The Hon. Jim Orders Trousers — 
 The Tailor Offended— A Tiff With Sir William Harcourt— Be- 
 friends a Lady in York — Sir George WombwcU at Balaclava — The 
 Ferry Boat Accident — Saved by a Friend — Sir Joseph Pease — His 
 Wealth — Workmen — Misfortune. 
 
 OF my old Yorkshire friends, I think I have 
 I missed James Lowther more than any. He 
 was my prop and stay in all business matters, 
 ready to help at all times with suggestions in con- 
 nection with farms, tenants, investments, quarrelsome 
 relations, and any such-like workaday matters. 
 
 After meeting him I always felt as though I had 
 been at the seaside in a strong breeze which left me 
 refreshed. I have several nice photographs of him, 
 but none picture him so naturally as the gifted '' Spy " 
 of Vanity Fair fame. I think this one of ** The Hon. 
 Jim '' is among the best, it exactly portrays him as 
 I have seen him hundreds of times. The reason I sc 
 often like Vanity Fair cartoons in preference to photo- 
 graphs is that '' Spy's '' gift of catching the little 
 intimate peculiarities of people is most happy. No 
 photographer could hope to vie with him ; in the first 
 place they would not have the opportunity of catching 
 their clients at the right moment, in the midst of 
 their pleasures and pursuits ; and in the second place, 
 none look their best when told to smile and look 
 pleasant. 
 
 I rather wish *' Spy " had pictured Mr. Lowther 
 riding in the Row, as I have ridden with him many 
 times, not in smart breeches and boots, but in Oxford 
 
284 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 shoes, socks innocent of suspenders and drooping over 
 his shoes, flannelly-looking trousers riding up his leg, 
 coat-tails flying, and hat well on the back of his head. 
 I cannot remember the time I did not know him ; his 
 people lived near us in Yorkshire. His father, dear 
 old Sir Charles Lowther, was blind, with quantities of 
 snow-white hair, and a saintly character which was 
 written on his face. 
 
 In his innocent way he would express himself 
 curiously at times, causing people to smile, but quite 
 unconscious that he had said anything odd, and of 
 course, knowing nothing of the smiles. When I was a 
 little child he used to hold my hand with one of his 
 and pat it with the other while speaking, in rather a 
 fascinating way, and he never lost this habit, even 
 after I was grown up. 
 
 Perhaps to the blind we never do grow up. Both 
 Sir Charles and Lady Lowther were gentle- voiced, 
 quiet-mannered people. Their youngest son James 
 was loud-voiced, genial, jovial, rough-mannered and 
 astoundingly cheery as I have already indicated, albeit 
 unassuming and natural, no side, no cheap swagger. 
 
 Sir Charles had a valet who went everywhere with 
 him, standing behind his chair at dinner-parties to cut 
 up his dinner and look after him generally. The man 
 was of curious appearance, but an excellent servant. 
 He had neither eyebrows nor eyelashes, which gave 
 him a scraped look, and he wore a wealth of wig. Of 
 what colour shall I say, I wonder? for I never saw 
 anything quite like it. Perhaps the nearest I can get 
 to it is a cross between buff and red. As children we 
 always used to hope that something would happen 
 to knock it off or disarrange it. One day something 
 of the sort did happen. There was a big luncheon- 
 party, the valet stood behind his master's chair, and in 
 the hurry of servants passing backwards and forwards 
 someone cannoned into the man and shot his wig side- 
 ways over one eye ; we nearly shouted with joy. 
 
 My mother sometimes took me with her when she 
 was paying calls. I always found it rather dull at 
 
MR. JAMES LOWTHER 285 
 
 Wilton, as the Lowthers had no young people any- 
 where near my own age. If Mr. James Lowther was 
 at home he took me to see the horses in the stables and 
 paddocks, or into the garden to eat fruit. If he was 
 not there, I was either sent into the garden by my 
 lone self, while the old ladies talked secrets, or I sat 
 and listened to their conversation. I could not 
 always understand what they were talking about ; 
 whenever my mother asked, ** And how is Mrs. George 
 Lowther ? " the answer never seemed to vary, *' Oh, 
 thank you, she is a little busy just now.'' I wondered 
 what she was always so busy about, she did not seem 
 a very strenuous person. At last I discovered, when a 
 little older, that it was Lady Lowther 's delicate way of 
 explaining that the family was being augmented, time 
 after time, in the hope a son would put in an appear- 
 ance, which in time he did, so all was well. It has now 
 become quite a family expression — '* Being a little 
 busy ! " 
 
 Jim Lowther was a man of considerable ability, but 
 not highly educated. One of those naturally idle men 
 who worked very hard, always in a hurry, yet never 
 excited, indeed particularly level-headed. Whether 
 his education was inferior, or his powers of imbibing 
 information deficient, I do not know, but at Winchester 
 and Cambridge he did nothing brilliant ; however, 
 thanks to ability, which he showed when he chose to 
 exert himself, kind relations and some ambition, it 
 was not long before he was doing useful work. At 
 twenty-five he was returned as Member for York, 
 where he was exceedingly popular. A bold speaker, 
 rough and original, listened to with respect, and a 
 strong Conservative, he soon made a name for him- 
 self, and occasionally rapped out a successful epigram. 
 
 In the racing world, Mr. Lowther was a great man, 
 a few more like him are badly needed. He was 
 elected a member of the Jockey Club when thirty-seven 
 and in 1883 served in the capacity of steward during 
 the time the present Duke of Richmond (then Lord 
 March) and the late Lord Cadogan were also in offige, 
 
286 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 a grand combination of great sportsmen. It has often 
 been averred that the Turf never saw Mr. James 
 Lowther's equal for conducting its affairs, yet he never 
 seemed to fall out with anybody. As an owner of race- 
 horses he never held very high order. Perhaps his 
 best horses were '' King Monmouth/' '* King Olf/' 
 " Cheroot " and '' Thuringian Queen.'' The first of 
 these won for him the best three-year-old race his 
 colours were ever successful in, namely, the Great 
 Yorkshire Stakes at York in 1885. He never won a 
 classic race, which, however, did not disturb him in 
 the least. He loved the sport and thoroughly enjoyed 
 the quiet little meetings he had done so much to 
 establish at Redcar near his home — Wilton Castle, 
 which stands in full view of the high road a few miles 
 from Redcar. As a child I thought it exactly like the 
 castles on the gingerbread we used to eat, and I think 
 so still. 
 
 There used to be great parties at Wilton and in all 
 the country houses of the neighbourhood for Stockton 
 and Redcar races. We should all have felt something 
 was wrong if Mr. James Lowther had failed to put in 
 an appearance at either of them. Lord Londonderry 
 at Wynyard, Lord Zetland at Marske and the Lowthers 
 were the making of these two meetings, which provided 
 the country-side with an excuse for sociable merry- 
 making. Everybody wanted to capture Mr. Lowther 
 for luncheon, he was so cheery. People used to speak 
 of the *' Yorkshire Autumn Tour '' when referring to 
 the meetings at Redcar, Stockton, York and Don- 
 caster, and a very popular tour it has always been. 
 
 Mr. Lowther bred a few horses at Wilton, but none 
 of them did anything great. Not being a rich man he 
 could not afford, nor would he have cared, to give long 
 prices for them. He would dearly have liked to win 
 a Classic with a horse of his own breeding, but to buy 
 a horse and pay a long price for him to win one of those 
 races would not have appealed to him at all, he told me 
 so more than once, but he always hoped that one of 
 his own breeding might, on^ day, distinguish itself. 
 
MR. JAMES LOWTHER 287 
 
 He always declared he was not a ladies' man, but I do 
 not think I quite agree with him. He did not often 
 go to dances certainly, although I have seen him doing 
 his duty in the '* Square " dances of those days some- 
 times, not knowing one figure from another and having 
 to be pushed to get him through. 
 
 I do not quite know what constitutes a ladies' man, 
 but he appreciated beauty, and still more wit, and he 
 had many friendships among the women of his 
 acquaintance, and one great attachment which lasted 
 nearly all his life. She was not good-looking but very 
 charming and witty. Although he never gossiped and 
 seldom said anything unkind, he loved to hear all the 
 '* on-dit '* repeated to him, they amused him. 
 
 There used to be a number of very handsome women 
 at those North Country meetings. Lady Londonderry, 
 now the dowager, dark and handsome : Lady Zetland, 
 with such wonderful colouring it earned her the 
 soubriquet of **The White-heart Cherry." Mrs. 
 George Lowther tall and handsome. Mr. Lowther 
 fluttering about amongst them all. 
 
 One of the curious things about him was that while 
 he was fond of horses and always mixed up with 
 them and their performances, he was not a great 
 horseman. His hands were carried somewhere near 
 his chin, elbows flopping up and down, and his stirrups 
 often too short. 
 
 As far as I can remember, the chief races won by 
 Mr. Lowther were : the Grand Yorkshire Stakes in 
 1885 ; the Ebor Handicap, 1889 ; the Yorkshire 
 Handicap at Doncaster, 1889 ; the Northumberland 
 Plate, 1890, and the Ascot Stakes, 1891. *' King 
 Monmouth " was considered Mr. Lowther 's best horse, 
 but it was '* Cheroot," '' Thuringian Queen " and 
 ** King Olf " that placed the racing halo round their 
 owner's head in Turf history, as they won for him the 
 noted Yorkshire Gimcrack Stakes as follows : 
 1877, '' King Olf "—Archer. 
 1884, " Thuringian Queen "—Watts. 
 1888, " Cheroot "— Woodburn. 
 
288 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 And the first-named inaugurated his entry as member 
 of the Jockey Club. 
 
 Being Member for York when he won his first 
 Gimcrack, this gave extra weight to the victory. 
 Fred Archer being in the saddle made it still more 
 popular. 
 
 Some dinners after the Gimcrack wins gave birth 
 to speeches dealing with the question of curbing the 
 jockey's betting, and some other little indiscretions 
 that have a way of creeping in when £ s. d. is plentiful. 
 These speeches by degrees grew in volume and fervour ; 
 ending in personalities and a lawsuit, Sir George 
 Chetwynd versus Lord Durham. Sir George objected 
 to certain remarks and the kettle called the pot black, 
 the pot returned the compliment. In this case the 
 tact and justice of Mr. Lowther was displayed ; at all 
 times a splendid arbitrator, weighing both sides with 
 the utmost care, sifting patiently until he gained the 
 exact truth, then expressing his opinion very lucidly. 
 
 Considering the amount of racing Mr. Lowther did, 
 and it was seldom that he missed a meeting as far as I 
 could judge, it was astonishing how he always managed 
 to be in his place in the House of Commons at question 
 time. Between politics and the Turf, he put in a lot 
 of useful work. 
 
 Mr. Lowther was a beautifully ugly man, I feel I 
 ought to give a photograph of him in his Sunday-go- 
 to-meeting clothes so that his trousers may be viewed, 
 one of his peculiarities being his trousers. To look at 
 these garments one would have thought he had worn 
 them for a year without their having seen the trouser- 
 press. He really owned an unconscionable number, 
 all absolutely alike ; this he insisted on, so his tailor — 
 a man called Miles in Bond Street — kept a large roll of 
 the cloth always in stock. Vainly Miles used to try 
 to introduce a new pattern, but could find little 
 opportunity of expatiating on the merits of material 
 and patterns as Mr. Lowther gave him no time. He 
 would pop his head inside the door saying : *' Oh, 
 Miles, Fm off to Goodwood next week, §end round 
 
MR. JAMES LOWTHER 289 
 
 a couple of pairs of the old pattern, not later than 
 Monday. Don't forget as I can't go without them." 
 
 Now Miles was a typical tailor turfite, full of con- 
 versation and pride, having seen '' Blair Athol " win 
 the Derby, but the summit of his pride lay in the 
 knowledge that " Jim Lowther " was one of his 
 customers : not on account, certainly, of the number 
 of clothes he ordered, but to think that he actually 
 made trousers for a member of the Jockey Club, and 
 at one time senior member ! This indeed filled the 
 sporting tailor with joy and gladness : made him feel- 
 a man of repute — the envy of other tailors. He never 
 tired of telling people how well he knew ** Jim 
 Lowther." The following true story is rather amusing. 
 
 Miles was having his hair cut at a famous hair- 
 dresser's in the same street, and was indulging in a 
 Uttle chat with the operator explaining that he had 
 just been talking to a Steward of the Jockey Club, 
 who had been in ordering clothes for Goodwood. Now 
 these blase hairdressers, themselves accustomed to 
 the '* highest society," had heard these stories so often 
 from Miles that they concocted a dreadful plot. 
 
 " Indeed ! is that so ? " replied the hairdresser 
 innocently in accents of surprise : " Then I take it you 
 must be Mr. Miles ? " 
 
 *' That is so " — proudly and with unction. 
 
 Hair dresser: **Well, as he is going in for cheap 
 clothes, it surprises me that he does not go to your 
 other shop in Whitechapel, as when I was passing 
 there this morning I observed outside your door the 
 notice : 
 
 GOING AT ONE POUND 
 
 MILES 
 
 TROUSERS REDUCED AGAIN 
 
 The tailor jumped up using naughty words : " Sir ! 
 that Miles is no relation of mine. Do you think a 
 
290 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 gentleman like Mr. Lowther, a Steward of the Jockey 
 Club, would deal there ? I will never have my hair 
 cut here again ! " 
 
 Mr. Lowther was walking down Bond Street one 
 morning with Sir William Harcourt, they drifted into 
 rather a heated political argument, the former having 
 the best of it, which ruffled Sir William, who on 
 passing Truefitt's thought he would end the interview, 
 saying suddenly, ** I want my hair cut,'' and bolting 
 into the shop leaving Mr. Lowther surprised and 
 amused. He indulged in one of his boisterous and at 
 times aggravating laughs. Sir William slammed the 
 door to. His temper was a trifle ruffled and seeing 
 a hatless man handling some bottles at one of the 
 counters addressed him with, '* I want my hair cut'' ; 
 the individual replied, *' Yes, you do ! " He likewise 
 was waiting to have his hair cut. 
 
 At York during one of the election times Mr. 
 Lowther happened to come into Samson's the book- 
 seller's in Coney Street where I was making some 
 purchases ; we left the shop together. Just in front of 
 us was a stout middle-aged lady strugghng with the 
 door of her brougham, which Mr. Lowther at once 
 opened for her. As she stepped into the carriage, full 
 of smiles and thanks, she dropped something; for a 
 second Mr. Lowther stood back viewing it, then 
 picked it up and handed it to its owner, saying, '' I 
 think you have dropped something." I saw a look 
 pass over the lady's face of doubt as to whether she 
 should acknowledge the ownership or repudiate it, but 
 she had no time to frame any diplomatic inexactitude, 
 so meekly said, '' Oh, thank you," and threw the 
 thing on to the floor of the carriage. It was her bustle, 
 and a very inartistic one. 
 
 When Mr. Lowther returned to me I said, " How 
 could you ! Why did you not pretend you did not 
 see it ? " 
 
 He replied, '' My charitable feelings got the better 
 of me, I thought she might catch cold without it." 
 
 We were having luncheon in the station refreshment- 
 
MR. JAMES LOWTHER 291 
 
 room a little later and Mr. Lowther joined us. We 
 had not been seated long before the door opened and 
 the lady whom he had so lately befriended walked in, 
 but the moment she caught sight of Mr. Lowther bolted 
 out again. He said she was an ** ungrateful woman ! " 
 
 Mr. Lowther died on the 12th of September, 1904, 
 aged sixty-six. Everybody knew him, and everybody 
 liked him. Yorkshire especially mourned his loss. 
 
 Another well-known Yorkshireman was Sir George 
 Womb well of Newburgh Priory. The smartest of 
 smart men ; consumed with self-importance. I liked 
 to watch him walk down Piccadilly, it was hardly big 
 enough for him, yet his side was not offensive, on the con- 
 trary it was rather amusing, and he was as far removed 
 from a snob as it was possible to be. There are two 
 kinds of snobs ; the one who knocks you down with 
 his money — *' My friend the Duke " and '* My friend 
 the Prince,'' and the other, who is such a snob that he 
 is afraid to mention his friends or relations by name, or 
 any of their possessions, for fear of being thought 
 snobbish. 
 
 Sir George Wombwell was neither the one nor the 
 other, but perfectly natural. Possessed of an here- 
 ditary dignity, he carried his head high, and walked 
 through life as though he were a person of importance, 
 as indeed he was, being in a position to do many 
 kindnesses and help many a lame dog over a stile, and 
 he did not forget to do so. His friends and acquaint- 
 ances were not chosen from any one set ; being 
 cosmopohtan in taste : he numbered among them 
 members of all the professions, not forgetting the 
 theatrical. Perhaps he was inclined to think all his 
 geese were swans. 
 
 I have seen him at shows jump on to a horse he did 
 not think was being shown to the best advantage, and 
 ride it round himself, and what is more, with con- 
 spicuous success. He was naturally a good horseman, 
 his figure and weight being an asset. After leaving 
 Eton, he joined the 17th Lancers and was with them in 
 the Crimea. Lord Cardigan appointed him his A.D.C. 
 
292 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 and he rode beside his chief in the charge of the Light 
 Brigade at Balaclava. Two horses were shot under 
 him, and he only escaped by his alertness. I am told 
 Sir George was the Cornet who sounded the trumpet 
 for the Balaclava charge (they were called Cornets in 
 those days), but his brother the present Sir Henry 
 Wombwell tells me this was not so, Sir George always 
 gave him to understand it was the trumpeter to Lord 
 Cardigan who did so. The same trumpeter after he 
 left the service was for years a messenger at the Horse 
 Guards. 
 
 There are many still living who remember the 
 terrible accident in 1869 at Newby Ferry. Sir George 
 was out with the York and Ainsty that day. I was 
 not there, but have often been told all about it. 
 Hounds were running hard, and crossed the river 
 close to Newby Hall. A crowd of followers, including 
 the Master and Sir George Wombwell, packed into the 
 ferry-boat, which was worked by a chain. Thirteen 
 horses and eleven men were in the boat and all might 
 have been well, had not *^ Saltfish,'' the horse ridden 
 by the Master, kicked at Sir George's mount, which 
 tried to return the compliment. '* Saltfish,'' not 
 liking the look of things, promptly jumped overboard. 
 The river was in full flood, and in their efforts to save 
 the Master, all rushed to the side of the boat, which 
 capsized. Men and horses were thrown struggling 
 into the water. Sir George was picked up, when nearly 
 exhausted, by Mr. Henry Vyner, who had succeeded in 
 reaching the upturned boat, a kindly current having 
 washed his friend near to him, but the Master was 
 drowned. 
 
 One year, when the Prince of Wales attended the 
 Royal Agricultural Show at York, having heard of a 
 famous horse dealer named Kirby, who lived in those 
 parts, he asked Sir George Wombwell to introduce the 
 man to him. Kirby was sought, found and led into 
 the Royal presence. He stood timidly with hat in 
 hand while the Prince congratulated him on his 
 success with his horses. Kirby stood dumb, wonder- 
 
MR. JAMES LOWTHER 293 
 
 ing desperately what was the proper way to talk to 
 princes. At last, deciding that something with a 
 touch of easy grace would be best, he blurted out : 
 '' 'Ow's your Mother ? " 
 
 A certain amount of flutter and excitement was 
 caused at one time by Sir George asking some of his 
 theatrical friends to stay in Scarborough, where he 
 entertained them. The very prim and proper, to 
 whom the very name theatrical was like a red flag to 
 a bull, said they were shocked. 
 
 The last time I saw Sir George Wombwell was at 
 Homburg, standing in his favourite attitude talking to 
 King Edward ; elbows stuck out, hand on side. 
 
 The York and Ainsty hounds were hunted by him 
 at one time, and they were turned out very well. It 
 was his pleasure and his glory that they should never 
 have been '* done so well.'' He rode boldly to hounds, 
 yet with judgment, was fond of racing but never 
 betted. Nearly always wore a brown and white tie — 
 his racing colours being brown with white spots and a 
 white cap. I have heard stories of foxes having been 
 shot on the Newburgh country, but I cannot believe 
 Sir George knew anything about it, he loved hunting. 
 
 He married in 1861 Lady Julia Villiers, daughter of 
 the 6th Earl of Jersey ; and lived to the ripe age of 
 eighty-three, keeping his figure to the end, and 
 looking extraordinarily young for his years. 
 
 There are many more Yorkshire people I should like 
 to write about, but space forbids. I cannot pass on, 
 however, without mentioning Sir Joseph Whitwell 
 Pease. I should not know the Cleveland hounds 
 without him. He was nearly always out with a large 
 party of sons and daughters, all well mounted. I wish 
 for no cheerier companion to ride home with than that 
 interesting man. Both he and the entire Clan Pease 
 were Quakers. I loved to draw him out on the 
 subjects of temperance and Home Rule — either of them 
 set the ball rolling. He was an admirer of Pamell and 
 a worshipper of Gladstone. He voted for the Home 
 Rule Bill on the occasion of its defeat. 
 
294 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 The name of Pease in the North used to convey the 
 idea of riches. At one time Sir Joseph was a very rich 
 man, and I could never quite understand how he got 
 into such trouble. As far as I can remember there 
 was some difficulty over a trusteeship. At the time 
 I remember him he was in the hey-day of his success 
 as a vast coal and iron master. He employed five 
 thousand workmen and took interest in their lives, 
 establishing science classes for their benefit. He was a 
 kindly man, with rather a patronising manner. He 
 had great interests in the railways of the North, and 
 trade generally of Durham. I used to wish I could 
 travel about as he did, without a ticket. His pretty, 
 gentle wife, to whom he was much attached, died 
 before him. I am glad she did not live to see the 
 crash. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 VICTORIAN WORTHIES 
 
 A Shooting Expedition — Amateurish Cooking — The Quarrel — Straw- 
 berry Jam and Wild Goose — Sir Edward Bradford — Tiger Shooting 
 — And the Duke of Clarence — As Commissioner of the Police — 
 Dissatisfaction in the Force — Three One-handed Men — Sir 
 Howard Vincent — At Sandhurst — Writes to the Duke of 
 Cambridge — A Soldier War Correspondent — At the Criminal In- 
 vestigation Department — Protects Bigwigs and Royalties — Some 
 " Abject Funks " — Mr. Gladstone Tiresome — Sir William Harcourt 
 Impatient — Arrest of Irish Agitator — His Exciting Drive — Sir 
 William Harcourt's Fish Dinner — His Disappointment — Sir Howard 
 Vincent's New Word of Command. 
 
 ONE shooting expedition I went with my lord 
 ) and master in India remains indehbly im- 
 pressed on my memory. My cooking powers 
 were put to the test and we very nearly quarrelled 
 over our arrangements. The fact is there is a great 
 art in preparing game and poultry for the table, an 
 experienced person does it in a minute, while the in- 
 experienced take a long time and when finished there 
 are such strange holes and gaps in the edibles under 
 discussion that they are hardly recognisable. 
 
 Everything went wrong on this jaunt from the 
 beginning. The servants had been sent on ahead with 
 tents, provisions, and such comforts as we allowed 
 ourselves when shooting and on the march. We 
 arrived at our first day's halting-place expecting to 
 find dinner ready and tents up. There was no sign of 
 anything of the kind, not a servant in sight. Here 
 was a pretty kettle-of-fish. I was tired and we were 
 both very hungry ; having been riding for six hours. 
 
 My husband said if we waited the servants would 
 probably turn up, so we unsaddled our ponies and 
 tethered them where they could feed. Night came 
 
 295 
 
296 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 and no servants, there was nothing for it but to sleep 
 under the stars, our saddles for pillows. The ponies 
 had plenty to eat, we had nothing but some mangoes, 
 the common kind that taste of turpentine. There 
 were some native huts not far away, but that did not 
 help us much, though my husband promised unheard-of 
 presents to the inhabitants if they would go and find 
 the servants. The natives all ran off in different 
 directions to search, but my own private opinion is 
 they did not go far. So under the stars and a glorious 
 moon we lay down to sleep, if we could. 
 
 It did not take my husband long before he was fast 
 asleep. It took me some time, the horses fidgeted and 
 I heard strange noises and footsteps. 
 
 In the early morning our servants arrived, with a 
 small crowd of natives from the huts each claiming 
 the promised present, declaring they had been the 
 means of finding our servants. My good man grew 
 exasperated and taking up his whip began using it 
 right and left. The result of this was a good many 
 ran away and we saw them no more, so now we had 
 to continue our journey with three only. My good 
 man was refreshed after his sleep. I was a sight, as 
 either from the damp or many mosquito bites I could 
 hardly open my eyes. My whole face was distorted and 
 when I tried to laugh my appearance was so peculiar it 
 nearly threw my man into convulsions. But it is no 
 use taking notice of trifles of that sort when out for 
 sport ; it is all part of the show. 
 
 All went well after this until there was another row. 
 As we reached colder climes the servants were dis- 
 covered rolled up in the ponies' blankets. 
 
 This was certainly annoying, as proper warm clothing 
 had been provided for the servants to wear when we 
 reached higher altitudes. What they said was their 
 warm things had been stolen. Now we were left with 
 two servants who swore their caste forbade them 
 touching game or food for us to eat, and we were far 
 from haunts where we could get more servants. We 
 had some tinned provisions and my man's gun had to 
 
VICTORIAN WORTHIES 297 
 
 do the rest. One day he brought in what looked like 
 a wild goose. I was requested to cook it. I said I 
 would be charmed if it was prepared for me, but as the 
 servants would not touch it, it was against their caste, 
 and it certainly was against mine, what was to be done ? 
 I suggested hanging it up on a tree. We both thought 
 it would be better for hanging awhile ! 
 
 That goose got on my mind. I could not tackle 
 its insides even if I succeeded in pulling its feathers 
 off, how I wished some kind animal would come in 
 the night and eat it up. 
 
 At last my husband became aggressive over it and 
 we quarrelled. I declared nothing would persuade 
 me to touch it until it was prepared for me, and he 
 told me not to make a fool of myself, but **go ahead 
 and cook it.'' I said, 'Xertainly, if you do not mind 
 it being cooked with its insides in,'' but warned him 
 it might taste a little strong in places ! 
 
 At last with the air of an exasperated martyr he 
 seized the bird and disappeared with it behind the 
 tent somewhere. 
 
 I heard some strange language and things being 
 kicked about. 
 
 Something in the air seemed to tell me what was 
 taking place, and I thought a little walk further afield 
 might be pleasant and refreshing. On my return I 
 was met by a tired, hot-looking husband who exclaimed, 
 ** There's the damned thing ! " 
 
 I thanked him politely and went to see the result 
 of his endeavour ; he followed me at a respectful 
 distance twiddling his moustache and trying to look 
 e very day ish. 
 
 When I beheld the bird, to keep a demure face was 
 beyond my power of self-control, but I kept my back 
 to my husband so that his feelings should not be hurt, 
 and he should not see my mirth, but something gave 
 me away and he said angrily, '* Well, what are you 
 laughing at, why didn't you do it yourself if you could 
 do it so much better ? " 
 
 I tried to draw him towards me while I was shaking 
 
298 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 with laughter ; I could hardly speak my amusement 
 was so great ; but he would have none of my blandish- 
 ments and wriggled away, so I followed and put my 
 hand into his saying, ''You have done it splendidly, 
 but you must allow it looks ve-r-y f-u-n-n-y \ " At 
 last he laughed too and we mopped our eyes between 
 furtive glances at the bird, which presented the appear- 
 ance no bird ever presented before. The wings had 
 been chopped off close to its sides, little bits of feathers 
 here and there stood up like islands between strange 
 gashes and gaps ; while its neck had grown yards 
 long. It was Ipng on a packing-case, with its head 
 and lengthy neck hanging over the edge in a zigzag 
 pattern. I gathered he had fastened its head with a 
 box which he weighted while wrestling with its feathers 
 and insides — ^he must have pulled very hard ! 
 
 As we only had one stew-pot of any size we decided 
 it would be well to cut up the pathetic-looking bird 
 and stew it. 
 
 This being accomplished I thought I had better 
 wait and see to the cooking, the natives not being in 
 love with the dish, and it would be a pity if it should 
 be spoilt after my husband taking such pains with 
 its preparation. 
 
 It stewed for a long time but looked and tasted 
 uninteresting, it required something to make it piquant, 
 red-currant jelly perhaps, but I had none ; but there 
 was some strawberry jam which I used, it was the saving 
 of that dish and was pronounced '* not half bad.'' 
 
 Once in Scotland long ago, when shooting in an 
 out-of-the-way place, it fell to my lot to have to cook 
 a rabbit. It was prepared for me by the keeper, it 
 looked blue and horrid, I hastily slipped the thing 
 into a saucepan and shut the lid down quick. Oh ! 
 it was amazingly slippery. I tipped some water out 
 of a jug under one side of the Hd so that I should not 
 see the thing again and put it on to cook. After a 
 time I summoned up courage enough to peep at it, 
 and was deHghted to find it all curled up and com- 
 fortable, looking white and nice. 
 
VICTORIAN WORTHIES 299 
 
 Since those days I have learned to cook and be use- 
 ful, every woman should know how to do these things, 
 especially if fond of sport, for it has a way of leading 
 us into odd places and throwing us on our own resources. 
 
 Sporting expeditions remind me of one when Colonel 
 Bradford lost his arm, while tiger shooting at Dilanpur, 
 about seventy miles from Agar. Many people in 
 London will remember the smart one-armed little 
 man who rode about the streets attending to his duties 
 while Administrator and Commissioner of the London 
 Metropolitan Police. The way he lost his arm is a 
 thrilling story which has often been told but not 
 always correctly. Hearing there was a man-eating 
 tiger in the neighbourhood which greatly alarmed 
 the natives, Colonel Bradford and some friends went 
 in search of it, each selecting a line some distance 
 apart, and the beating began. The Colonel seated 
 himself in the fork of a tree too near the ground, the 
 tiger happened to come his way and within range, he 
 shot it, the animal then charged and the sportsman 
 fired his second barrel, but a twig of the tree got into 
 the hammer preventing the shot being effective, there 
 was nothing now to be done but jump down and rush 
 for a ravine or nullah as it is called out there, which 
 was near, hoping that if he dived into the water he 
 would escape the tiger's claws. 
 
 Unfortunately the water was not deep enough, it 
 only came to his knees, and the animal sprang at him, 
 to save his throat and chest he thrust his left arm into 
 the animal's throat, which it was crunching when help 
 came in the form of a plucky sportsman named Dulla, 
 Colonel Bradford's gun-bearer, who took aim while 
 close to the beast, the Colonel shouting, "Mind you 
 shoot the tiger and not me ! " Then followed the long 
 journey, jolting along through the jungle in the heat 
 of an Indian May day on a stretcher improvised for the 
 occasion. A camel sowar was sent off in haste for a 
 doctor, and they pushed on with the wounded man all 
 through the night. About ten o'clock next morning 
 they met the surgeon galloping towards them. Finding 
 
300 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 mortification had set in, an immediate operation 
 became necessary. Dr. Beaumont, who was after- 
 wards Deputy Surgeon-General, performed the opera- 
 tion of amputation at the shoulder, while a blanket 
 was held over the patient to keep off the scorching 
 sun. There was no chloroform or convenience for such 
 an operation and it was performed with only a pocket 
 case of instruments. Dr. Beaumont said the shock 
 would have killed most people, and it was Colonel 
 Bradford's pluck that pulled him through. 
 
 Having lost one arm it might be imagined sport was 
 over for him, but this was by no means the case, he 
 had many enjoyable days pig-sticking afterwards, 
 catching hold of the reins with his teeth when nearing 
 the pig, thus freeing his arm for the use of the spear. 
 
 At home he was a follower of the hounds in Leicester- 
 shire and Oxfordshire ; being a light weight he was 
 easily mounted. 
 
 Thirty-four years of his life were spent in India 
 holding various posts of importance. Starting at the 
 age of seventeen in the Madras Cavalry, he was in time 
 to take part in the Mutiny, receiving the medal and 
 being mentioned in despatches. A soldier par excel- 
 lence but compelled by the circumstances of the times 
 in India to become a politician ; though for ten years 
 he gave abundant promise of a brilliant military 
 career : his men had confidence in him, appreciating 
 his charm of manner and admiring his horsemanship. 
 
 He was a trifle below medium height, with blue 
 eyes, a gentle voice and manner. It would not have 
 been easy to guess from his appearance that he was 
 possessed of such courage and physical endurance. As 
 a boy he had been so delicate he was unable to remain 
 at Marlborough and obliged to have private tutors. 
 
 Sir Edward Bradford was in charge of the Police in 
 Bombay when in 1875 King Edward VII, at that time 
 Prince of Wales, went a tour through the North- West 
 provinces. Sir Bar tie Frere, a former Governor of 
 Bombay, was chief of the personal staff of the Prince 
 of Wales and recommended the appointment of Major 
 
SIR EDWARD BRADFORD 
 
VICTORIAN WORTHIES 301 
 
 Bradford, as he considered very special precautions 
 were necessary against fanatics, and he knew no one 
 so capable of dealing with this feature with less fuss 
 and worry than Major Bradford. Sir Bartle Frere 
 therefore suggested he should be in constant attend- 
 ance on H.R.H. and never leave him throughout his 
 visit in India. The way he carried out his duties 
 throughout this visit proved Sir Bartle Frere 's con- 
 fidence had not been misplaced. The quiet unobtrusive 
 little figure kept a close watch on all the huge crowd 
 at one time and another approaching His Royal 
 Highness. 
 
 Ever after this the Prince took an interest in Sir 
 Edward, looking upon him as a counsellor and friend ; 
 this was proved later when in 1889 King Edward 
 sent for Sir Edward and asked him if he would accept 
 the responsibility of accompanying the Duke of 
 Clarence to India. Adding kindly, ** I should feel no 
 anxiety about my son's safety if I knew you were by 
 his side.'' 
 
 Sir Edward therefore accompanied the young Duke, 
 and on his return the Queen made him one of her 
 A.D.C.'s, as an expression of her appreciation of his 
 services. 
 
 In 1885 Colonel Bradford was knighted and in 1887 
 returned to England to take up the Secretaryship of 
 the Secret and Political Department of the India 
 Office, and in the spring of 1890 was appointed Com- 
 missioner of Police in the Metropolis, which he held 
 for thirteen years. He took office at the time when 
 the police were dissatisfied about their pensions, 
 resulting in a strike amongst them. This had been 
 brewing before Sir Edward took office, but it soon 
 came to an end, for he acted promptly, dismissing the 
 thirty-nine men who had refused to go on duty, and 
 then turned his attention to remedying their griev- 
 ances. 
 
 The law and order of London and the safety of the 
 Royal Family rested in his hands on several great 
 occasions. There was the Diamond Jubilee in 1897, 
 
302 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 after which the Queen sent for him to thank him for 
 the able way he had carried out his duties. Then 
 there was the funeral of Queen Victoria in 1901. And 
 the Coronation of King Edward VII in 1902. 
 
 On each of these occasions he rode at the head of 
 the procession, a picturesque little figure with one 
 empty sleeve. The public were always interested 
 and had a warm corner in their hearts for him, the 
 English people love a plucky sportsman. 
 
 Anxious times arrived with the relief of Mafeking 
 and Ladysmith ; the rejoicings of six millions of people 
 all in high spirits and out to enjoy themselves required 
 some management, to safeguard them from their own 
 frolics. 
 
 It was about this time I met him one afternoon at 
 a crush in Eaton Square. He asked me if I was walking, 
 and if so might he come part of the way home with 
 me. I was charmed, and we had just crossed over 
 from St. George's Hospital to the Park side of Piccadilly 
 when we saw thundering towards us a runaway horse 
 in a hansom cab. Two very frightened-looking men 
 inside, and the driver nearly on top of the vehicle in 
 his endeavours to stop the horse. We stood for a 
 moment to see what was going to happen as the road 
 was covered with traffic. With an awful crash the 
 horse ran straight into the refuge in the middle of the 
 road, where it fell down amidst wreckage of sorts. 
 
 The two men inside the cab executed the most 
 wonderful somersaults and arrived one each side of 
 the refuge on their feet, each with a black bag in his 
 hand, and each without his hat. It was like a well- 
 rehearsed pantomime trick. 
 
 Sir Edward had dashed to the assistance of the man 
 nearest to us, who was looking very dazed, and tried 
 to relieve him of his bag and give him a hand to the 
 pavement. This was fiercely resented and Sir Edward 
 seized by the collar and told he was a thief and a few 
 other things. I was so taken up at first looking at 
 the poor horse and seeing what I could do to help it, 
 I did not see half the amusing scene between the late 
 
VICTORIAN WORTHIES 303 
 
 hansom-cab occupant and the Chief of the Pohce, 
 who was being handed over to the charge of one of 
 his own constabulary for trying to rob the man of 
 his bag. 
 
 A few days later I heard from Sir Edward that the 
 two men were lawyers and had their bags full of 
 important documents, and it was much to their credit 
 the way they stuck to the bags through such a toss ; 
 and we had a good laugh over the whole incident. 
 
 In 1892 Sir Edward was made a Baronet, and in 
 1903 retired. He was then appointed Equerry to 
 King Edward, acting in the same capacity for King 
 George in 1910. 
 
 When on his way home from India he was wrecked 
 in the P. and O. Tasmania off Corsica and was ordered 
 into the boat with the women and children but refused 
 to go. He clung to some of the wreckage for hours 
 with his one arm, being eventually picked up by a 
 yacht and taken to Ajaccio. 
 
 Sir Edward Bradford had great personal charm 
 and I quite agree with my old friend Sir Owen Burne 
 who said, " Nothing can §poil Bradford, he is un- 
 spoilable '' — and it is a privilege to have known him. 
 
 It is wonderful what resolute plucky people can do 
 with one hand. One of Sir Edward's greatest friends 
 in India was a one-armed man — a Mr. Lane, he happened 
 to be one of the tiger-shooting party when Sir Edward 
 lost his arm. Mr. Lane had lost his when only nineteen 
 years of age; notwithstanding this he finished his 
 education for the Civil Service and East India Com- 
 pany, passed his exam, and went out to India, being 
 magistrate in the N.W.P. through the Mutiny, and did 
 such good service that he was rewarded with the 
 Mutiny medal. 
 
 Another one-armed man was General Sir Henry 
 Hardinge, grandfather of the late Viceroy of India. 
 The General lost one hand at the battle of Quatre 
 Bras, just before Waterloo, and had his arm injured 
 by a French cannon-ball. I think he was the only 
 one-handed Viceroy India has had. 
 
304 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Sir Edward died quite suddenly from angina pectoris 
 on May 13th, 191 1. 
 
 Sir Howard Vincent had retired from the Criminal 
 Investigation Department before Sir Edward Brad- 
 ford was appointed as Chief Commissioner. I think 
 Sir Howard Vincent, who was plain Mr. when first I 
 knew him, was one of the most astounding people I 
 ever met ; full of feverish activity, a determination 
 to make his name, never happy unless hard at work, 
 interested in everything, gifted with a wonderfully 
 tenacious memory, and a charming way of establishing 
 definite and intimate relationships and friendships 
 after a comparatively short acquaintance. 
 
 The annoying thing was nobody would take him 
 seriously ; I think it was because he felt he was not 
 appreciated that made him so restless, unable to stick 
 to anything for long. 
 
 One of his most delightful characteristics was his 
 unswerving devotion to his parents ; all his life he 
 made a habit of writing on Sunday to either his father 
 or his mother, not scrappy bits but long epistles telling 
 them of his doings, hopes and fears, and withal so 
 naive, holding nothing in reserve, pointing out his 
 own ability, his charity, how devoted to him certain 
 people were, his financial prospects — ^in fact laid bare 
 his life to them, often asking their advice. 
 
 His audacity was really profound. When a youth 
 at Sandhurst he wrote a letter of complaint to the 
 Duke of Cambridge about certain matters he con- 
 sidered required attention and improvement ; after 
 he had sent it off he worried himself nearly into fits 
 wondering what the Commander-in-Chief would say. 
 Happily no answer was received. After Sandhurst, 
 he joined the Royal Welsh Fusiliers and said he found 
 it hard to make both ends niieet with the small allow- 
 ance his people were able to give him, he could not 
 afford to do as many of his brother officers did, but 
 he did not mind that, he was determined not to spend 
 more than he had got. 
 
 Whenever he could get leave he spent it learning 
 
VICTORIAN WORTHIES 305 
 
 languages, he actually asked for six months' leave to 
 enable him to go to Italy for that purpose, he did 
 not receive much encouragement. That was a time 
 when it was not the fashion to encourage initiative or 
 study in young officers. Nevertheless he was a great 
 linguist. 
 
 I wish I had space to recount the story of how he 
 became War Correspondent of The Daily Telegraph, 
 it was a fine piece of what the schoolboys call *' cheek." 
 All the preparations were made and the paper arranged 
 for him to be attached to the Crown Prince of Prussia's 
 Staff when war broke out between Germany and 
 France. To his bitter disappointment at the last 
 moment he was not allowed to go, the Military authori- 
 ties at home feared as England might be drawn into 
 the row every officer ought to be at home at his post. 
 
 Sir Howard was always so full of anxiety to repay 
 his people for all the money they had spent on his 
 education. My own opinion is he educated himself, 
 he was always studying something. Nothing, how- 
 ever, made him downhearted, he now returned to his 
 regiment and wrote articles for a number of papers 
 exposing the wrongs and injustices of the Service 
 according to his views. It makes me tremble to think 
 of the audacity of a young subaltern writing to the 
 papers in this way. I should have imagined he would 
 have been suppressed once and for ever. 
 
 Mr. Vincent had an unusual way of telling amusing 
 stories against himself that was most refreshing. He 
 was a curious mixture of modesty and self-confidence. 
 I never met him without hearing of some scheme he 
 was full of. At one time when in Ireland with his 
 regiment, he was in a ferment over a scheme he had 
 conceived for settling the Home Rule difficulties to 
 the mutual satisfaction of all parties ; being so carried 
 away with fervour that he made some injudicious 
 speeches on the subject. The Irish people were 
 delighted with him and the local papers printed his 
 utterances, amongst which appeared part of his wonder- 
 ful scheme, and the expression of his belief that the 
 
3o6 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Irish people had just cause for grievance and dis- 
 content ; that the British parHament undoubtedly 
 neglected their interests. Amongst other things by 
 his scheme there would be no Lieutenant-Governors 
 of Ireland, he saw no use in them, but instead he would 
 have a Prince of Royal Blood reside there permanently. 
 
 Out hunting next day Mr. Vincent was pained and 
 surprised that Lord Spencer cut him dead. At the 
 moment he was a little upset about this, but soon 
 settled the matter in his own mind, and owing to the 
 little unpleasantness decided to leave the Service. 
 
 There was some friction and disturbance at Scotland 
 Yard about this time in connection with the Turf 
 Fraud Scandal. Mr. Vincent felt certain this would 
 lead to a new appointment and thought he would try 
 for it, so hurried off to Paris and other capitals and 
 studied their detective systems. This combined with 
 his knowledge of many languages he hoped would 
 '' win him the trick,'' and it did, with the assistance 
 of some of his friends whom he looked up ; he now 
 blossomed out into Director of Criminal Investigation, 
 drawing £1100 a year. 
 
 I remember the amount of witticism, criticism and 
 chaff that flew about when the announcement of this 
 appointment appeared in the daily papers. Mr. 
 Vincent was most good-tempered over it, he never 
 resented criticism. 
 
 He once gave me an amusing account of his endea- 
 vours to protect people. He was always most anxious 
 when foreign Royalties were staying in England and 
 knew no rest until they were safely away from our 
 shores again. He said the Queen (Victoria) was always 
 nervous on Constitution Hill, having once been fright- 
 ened there in 1850, and that many high personages 
 he knew (and he gave me some names), while pretend- 
 ing to be very brave and fearless were '' really abject 
 funks.'' But Mr. Gladstone was tiresomely fearless, 
 and he had to implore him for the sake and credit of 
 the Force to be careful. Once when Mr. Vincent had 
 received word that the Prime Minister's life was to be 
 
VICTORIAN WORTHIES 307 
 
 taken, he wished to warn the proposed victim, but 
 knowing his disUke of being accompanied or taking 
 any sort of care, and how snappy he became when any 
 such suggestions were put forward, Mr. Vincent asked 
 Sir Wilham Harcourt, then Home Secretary, to speak 
 to him and tell him there was a plot against his life. 
 Sir William, however, was not inclined to do anything 
 of the kind, and said, *' Tell him yourself,'' and this 
 he had to do. Mr. Gladstone was cross, and asked, 
 ** What do you want me to do ? '' Mr. Vincent suc- 
 ceeded in extracting a promise not to go about un- 
 accompanied and that he would drive instead of walk 
 for a time ; but in a very few days he lapsed again, 
 and went about as usual, walking and alone. 
 
 During the time Mr. Vincent held this appointment 
 from 1878 to 1884 there were some momentous occa- 
 sions for him to deal with. The terrible murder of 
 Lord Frederick Cavendish, the arrest of Davitt and 
 many others. Mr. Vincent's account of the Davitt 
 day was most exciting and he seemed to have enjoyed 
 it thoroughly. 
 
 He had given orders for Davitt to be arrested in 
 Ireland just before the train started in which he was 
 to travel. All went well and Mr. Vincent had a carriage 
 and guard of honour awaiting the arrival of the train 
 at Willesden Junction with police officers in plain 
 clothes hiding in a place near, mounted men in plain 
 clothes round the comer, all armed with revolvers and 
 ammunition in case of a row. 
 
 I should think poor Mr. Davitt had the drive of 
 his Hfe, for he was bundled into the carriage and all 
 galloped madly to Bow Street, where an equally 
 excited magistrate awaited them. In a few moments 
 the necessary business was transacted, and Davitt then 
 had another mad gallop the whole way to Millbank ; the 
 agitated agitator, well shaken up, was safe in prison at 
 last. It was all very exciting and Johnny Gilpinny. 
 
 I once asked Mr. Vincent if he found Sir William 
 Harcourt (at that time Home Secretary) pleasant to 
 work with. The following was the reply. 
 
3o8 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 '' Speaking generally he was very pleasant to work 
 with, but at times difficile and very impatient. If 
 things did not work quite smoothly and come off at 
 the expected moment he would turn and rend me, 
 saying, ' Then what use are you ? What are the 
 police for ? ' He also was inclined to worry too much 
 about details, he wanted to know what I was going 
 to do and how I was going to do it, when often it was 
 quite impossible to give an exact answer as it must 
 depend on the circumstances arising, which could not 
 be altogether foretold/' 
 
 I think Mr. Vincent had a sincere liking for Sir 
 William, who was not a very popular person. There 
 is a story about him and eight Cambridge under- 
 graduates who gave a little dinner at Greenwich, each 
 saying they would ask the man they disliked most in 
 the world. When the evening arrived only one guest 
 put in an appearance ; all had asked the same man. 
 Sir William Harcourt ! 
 
 I can understand Sir William not being popular, 
 for at times the Harcourt manner was unbearable, 
 at others nothing could have been more charming 
 and polished, but the elder brother Edward Harcourt 
 was the pleasantest, though he too was rather lordly. 
 Once when driving me from the Alexandra Hotel in 
 Knightsbridge in a landau with a pair of his horses, 
 which by the way were very badly coupled, untidy 
 and slipshod looking, he suddenly said, *' I believe one 
 of the horses is lame ? Do you notice it ? " 
 
 I replied, '' It certainly is.'' To this he remarked in 
 an angry voice, '* Then I shall discharge the coach- 
 man." I laughed and asked how that was going 
 to help matters. Still indignant he said, '' If the 
 horses fall down or go lame I discharge the coachman, 
 if the cows give no milk I discharge the dairymaid," 
 adding, ** I do it on principle." 
 
 I then asked if he found it answered and he replied, 
 " Admirably ! " 
 
 It was curious that the two brothers Edward and 
 William Harcourt should be of different political 
 
VICTORIAN WORTHIES 309 
 
 opinions, the eldest a Conservative and the younger a 
 Liberal-Radical. At one time I thought Sir William 
 really was above party politics, and once made this 
 remark to Mr. Joseph Chamberlain ; he smiled a calf- 
 like smile and said nothing. A little later I changed 
 my views when I saw and heard how bitterly dis- 
 appointed Sir WilUam was at not being made Prime 
 Minister in 1894. After which he did not support 
 Lord Rosebery as might have been expected, for which 
 reason it is stated Lord Rosebery resigned. 
 
 Mr. Vincent was knighted in 1896. 
 
 There are many reasons why we should all remember 
 Sir Howard Vincent with gratitude. We have him to 
 thank for the passing of the bill which gave powers to 
 the Police to send for a veterinary surgeon to put poor 
 animals out of their pain when injured in the streets ; 
 after which we were saved the horrors of seeing poor 
 horses struggling to get up with broken legs and other 
 injuries. Both Sir Howard and Lady Vincent were lovers 
 of animals, as most gentle, nice-natured people are. 
 
 Another good work we have to thank him for, was 
 the appointment of the Public Trustee. 
 
 If I had the space I should like to write of the very 
 many kind things I have known Sir Howard do, his 
 goodness to little children, to the sick and anybody 
 in trouble. His simple faith and many charities. 
 
 He never lost his affection for soldiering, he loved 
 the uniform, sword, glitter, band and emotions they 
 evoked ; he acknowledged this himself, often laughing 
 at his own expense. During the latter part of his life 
 he took much interest in the Westminster Volunteers, 
 which corps he commanded. Although doubtless a 
 very gallant soldier he was never able to recollect the 
 regulation words of command ; fortunately he and his 
 men understood and liked one another, or there might 
 have been difficulties. He was especially proud of a 
 new word of command he coined one field day when 
 he had received orders to move his men to some spot 
 without being seen by the enemy. After rapidly 
 running over in his mind all the words of command 
 
310 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 he could remember and finding all inappropriate to 
 this emergency, he delivered himself thus : 
 
 " Now, you fellows, you have got to line that ridge 
 over there. Creep,'' and they crept. 
 
 Sir Howard died at the age of fifty-nine. I think 
 the activity of his brain killed him, for he worked so 
 unceasingly that his poor body could not keep pace 
 with his brain. 
 
 I never met a sweeter-tempered man or one with a 
 kinder heart. 
 
 When I read day after day of the splendid achieve- 
 ments of the French army in this great war my mind 
 travels back to the days when I saw the raw conscripts 
 being trained at Villefranche on the road between 
 Nice and Monte Carlo. The parade ground lies close 
 to the road, and I used to go with a small son and sit 
 on a low mud wall at the side of the road and watch 
 the French conscripts being drilled. This was an 
 unfailing source of joy, it was all so different to what 
 I had been accustomed to see at home. 
 
 One day part of what had to be practised, was a 
 certain movement of arms, then a run of about thirty 
 yards and jump over quite a low mud wall, that any 
 of them could easily have stepped over without much 
 exertion but which presented terrible difficulties to 
 the raw conscripts who were not athletes. They were 
 shown how it was to be done by their instructors, and 
 it looked so easy. Then the men were set at it again 
 in fours ; anyone accustomed to hunting or schooling 
 horses could tell in a moment those whose hearts were 
 in it, and whose that were not. Some went at the 
 jump fiercely, gave a mighty jump with legs well apart 
 and arrived sprawling, but proud at the other side. 
 Others would start well, then a certain doubt and 
 falter made itself apparent in their stride. The 
 sergeants, or whoever their instructors were, shouted 
 words of encouragement to them ; thus braced the men 
 meant to do or die in the attempt, but at the last 
 moment tucked their toes in and threw their hearts 
 over, their bodies remaining this side of the jump. 
 
VICTORIAN WORTHIES 311 
 
 At last to my utter astonishment the instructors 
 in exasperation slapped the men's faces ! after which 
 they were so inspired they all got over this thing about 
 the size of a footstool and looked round anxiously to 
 see the enormous amount of ground they had covered. 
 Yet now probably those very men are doing wondrous 
 brave things daily and have forgotten all about those 
 first days of soldiering. 
 
 One day while we were watching the drilling, a 
 carriage -load of tourists drove up and unblushingly 
 began to photograph the soldiers, but a gendarme was 
 on the spot in a moment and told them it could not be 
 allowed, was defendu. ... I do not think either 
 papa, mama, daughter, or maiden aunt, which is what 
 they looked like, understood one word of what was said 
 to them, but gathered perhaps they had better move on. 
 
 I often bicycled and walked along that road to 
 Nice. There was a most picturesque old beggar who 
 was daily to be found sitting at the roadside, where he 
 collected alms in his big brigand-looking felt hat. 
 The man was French and had snow-white hair and 
 heavy beard ; beside him was his little carriage, which 
 consisted of part of a packing-case with the sides cut 
 away and mounted on old perambulator wheels. 
 This was drawn from and to Nice every day by two 
 handsome well-cared-for dogs, who slept beside their 
 master until time to go home. Many people stopped 
 to give the crippled old man and his dogs money and 
 food, for which they received much thanks in well- 
 chosen words, and were told the story of how the 
 great English Queen (Victoria) had stopped her 
 carriage as she drove past and had sent him some 
 money by one of her attendants and asked for a 
 photograph of him, which had been taken at once, 
 and the Queen had taken the picture of him and his 
 dogs sitting on the roadside away to England with 
 her. Then a precious much-folded and creased news- 
 paper was produced giving an account of the meeting 
 and showing the Queen in her carriage near the old 
 man. 
 
312 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 This splendid but pathetic-looking beggar said he 
 could only crawl about to harness his dogs and get 
 into his quaint carriage. I watched him do this one 
 day : at a word from the old man the dogs almost 
 harnessed themselves, and stood in their places while 
 their master hitched their leather traces over a couple 
 of big nails and climbed into his seat, where he sat 
 cross-legged as he did on the road. 
 
 I was rather surprised one evening when I was in 
 Nice rather late with my French maid, who was leading 
 me down some back streets to find an old curio shop 
 she knew of, to see my friend the beggar rattle up with 
 his dogs and chariot, step out at the door of a respect- 
 able almost bettermost house where a servant was 
 awaiting him and led away the dogs, while another 
 attended to the gentleman who had been a cripple all 
 day. 
 
 I was told afterwards that the man was well off and 
 had made it all begging. He was fond of his dogs and 
 good to them. The Chaplain had made enquiries 
 about the case and found out all about him. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 LORD ROBERTS 
 
 Lord Roberts as " Wee Bobs " — In the Mutiny — His Private Secretary 
 — Sleeps in a Cape Cart — Inspecting Goth Rifles — Breaks Down — 
 Helps to Save a Young Officer — Dislike of Cats — His Death — Sir 
 Neville Chamberlain — Wounded at Kandahar — Seven Years in 
 Kashmer — Inspector-General of Irish Police — Executor to Lord 
 Roberts — A supposed Governorship — A Dancing Lesson — General 
 Park — On Wagon Hill — Thanked by Sir George White and Sir 
 Ian Hamilton — Account of the Battle — Congratulations — Prices 
 in Ladysmith During the Siege — General Park Sees a Boer General's 
 Wife Off by Train— The Way She Says Good-bye— His Death- 
 Funeral at Exeter. 
 
 LITTLE BOBS" was the title of affection 
 that descended upon Lord Roberts very 
 ^ early in life. The first time I heard it in 
 connection with him was from Sir John Ewart, he 
 told me that during the storming of the Dilkusha Park 
 at Lucknow during the Mutiny, when the 93rd were 
 endeavouring to get inside the walls, '' Little Bobs " 
 galloped up in advance and nearly lost his life, as a 
 shot from one of the enemies' guns either in the palace 
 or behind it, I forget which, struck the horse he was 
 riding, cutting the horse in two just behind the saddle. 
 All fell in a confused and ghastly heap. The men of 
 the 93rd said, '' Plucky wee Bobs is done for," but 
 '* Wee Bobs " was by no means done for, and as he 
 was seen to issue from the carnage, on his feet again, 
 the Highlanders gave him a cheer. I have been 
 told by some people that it was not the horse Mr. 
 Roberts was riding that was shot, but that of an 
 Artilleryman near, whom he went to assist. I adhere 
 to Sir John Ewart 's story, I would always take the 
 word of a Scotsman against the rest of the world, they 
 may be prosaic, but are nearly always exact. 
 
 313 
 
314 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 I first met " Wee Bobs '' in London when he was 
 General Sir Frederick Roberts. I have already men- 
 tioned his kindness in telegraphing and writing, when 
 my husband was wounded; on many other occasions 
 he has gone out of his way to help me, always showing 
 that consideration for others which endeared him to 
 the hearts of the British public. 
 
 Lord Roberts attributed his success as a soldier, to 
 a great extent, to the kindness of the late General Sir 
 Donald Stewart, who gave him the chance of his life 
 in the command of the Army which marched from 
 Kabul to Kandahar ; and he endeavoured to show 
 his gratitude by chivalrous attention to dear old Lady 
 Stewart in her declining years. 
 
 That Lord Roberts had favourites, no one can deny, 
 but most Generals have, only they don't admit it. 
 He had a very kindly feeling and admiration for the 
 Highlanders, and said he was proud to have one on 
 his coat of arms as standard bearer. 
 
 The two names amongst my own friends that I 
 associate most closely with the old Chief are the 
 present Sir Ian Hamilton, always a great favourite, 
 and Sir Neville Chamberlain, who was a second son 
 to the old man. Both these men have particularly 
 charming manners and are dear old friends of mine. 
 
 When the second Afghan War broke out in 1878 
 General Roberts was appointed to command the 
 column which was to advance via the Kurram Valley, 
 and he appointed Mr. Chamberlain to his personal 
 staff ; he always speaks with the warmest affection of 
 Lord Roberts, in one letter I have from him after the 
 General's death he says : ''I owe any success I may 
 have achieved in life to him, and to his personal 
 example all the many years it was my privilege to be 
 closely associated with him, and that was from the 
 time I joined him in 1878 to the day of his death in 
 November, 1914/' 
 
 For true kindness of heart, it would be hard to find 
 the equal of Lord Roberts, it was apparent in his every 
 action, and he shared with our late King Edward VII 
 
SIR NKVILI.i: CHAMBERLAIN 
 
LORD ROBERTS 315 
 
 that happy genius of remembering faces and names, 
 even remembering their relationships. It was natural 
 to him to wish to give pleasure, and in Afghanistan 
 when he went round outposts, he would stop and 
 speak to a native officer in command of some picquet 
 and after a brief conversation would say, '' I know 
 
 your brother — Subidar X of the Punjab 
 
 Infantry, and your father served with me at Delhi." 
 Small wonder the men loved him. 
 
 The Mr. Chamberlain I have already mentioned, 
 now Sir Neville Chamberlain, acted as Private 
 Secretary to Lord Roberts in South Africa. When 
 they reached Kroonstadt in their advance to Pretoria, 
 one of the Staff had been sent on ahead to secure a 
 house for the Commander-in-Chief ; there were 
 many vacant, but a large one in the centre of 
 the town which seemed suitable was occupied by the 
 family of a Dutch clergyman. They were asked to 
 move into one of the smaller empty houses near which 
 would have accommodated them, so as to leave the 
 larger one for General Roberts and his Staff. It was 
 late in the evening when Lord Roberts arrived and 
 found the good people preparing to evacuate their 
 premises. He was much upset and would not hear of 
 the household being inconvenienced on his account. 
 It was then too late to make other arrangements, so he 
 bivouacked for the night in his small Cape cart by 
 the side of the road, along which clouds of dust were 
 blowing as mounted and other troops were passing 
 through most of the night. 
 
 Sir Neville says he can answer for the dust, as he 
 slept in inches of it on the ground at the foot of the 
 cart — and he added, " I believe he (Lord Roberts) was 
 probably the only officer on the various staffs of any 
 rank who was not comfortably housed that night.'' 
 
 Next day a suitable dwelling-place was found. 
 
 One of the charms of Lord Roberts was he was 
 courteous and polite to all, it was not possible to 
 detect the slightest difference in his mode of address 
 when speaking to the last joined subaltern, non- 
 
3i6 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 commissioned officer or soldier, or officer of the 
 highest rank. 
 
 We can all remember when the sad news came 
 telling Lord Roberts his only son in the 6oth Rifles, 
 a smart, good-looking, promising young soldier, had 
 been killed, the bravery of the old man with his 
 broken heart sailing for South Africa in response to 
 his country's demands to take supreme command. 
 When he reached Pretoria he inspected the 6oth Rifles, 
 and tried to address them, but completely broke down, 
 his voice failed him, all he could whisper was 
 *' My poor son . . . my poor son. . . .'' Sir William 
 Pit cairn Campbell linked his arm into the old warrior's 
 and led him off the parade. 
 
 We can also well remember how often Lord Roberts 
 tried to save England from '' The Surprise " of 1914, 
 how persistently he tried to awaken those who did not 
 wish to be awakened. When the crash came, he must 
 have longed to say, '' I told you so,'' but was too 
 generous. 
 
 The pubUc life of Lord Roberts is too well known 
 to bear repeating, but hundreds of his private kind- 
 nesses remain unwritten. 
 
 Here is one instance known only to myself and the 
 few concerned. 
 
 A well-known Yorkshire family living not far from 
 our home in the North, had a favourite son in whom 
 all the hopes of the family were centred ; he was in 
 one of the crack regiments that served several times 
 with distinction under Lord Roberts. As it was a 
 question of his having to leave the Service in disgrace, 
 the lad's people felt it acutely, and asked me as I knew 
 Lord Roberts if I would speak to him about it and 
 ask his advice. I wrote to the General, who happened 
 to be in England at the time, and he replied at once 
 saying he would like to talk to me about it, and would 
 come and see me if I would suggest a convenient time 
 on one of two days he mentioned. Not only did he 
 give me advice that would be comforting to the lad's 
 people, but promised to see what could be done. The 
 
LORD ROBERTS 317 
 
 young officer's mother came up to town to be near if 
 wanted, and became very ill from shock at an hotel ; 
 when Lord Roberts heard this he offered to go and 
 see her to try and relieve her mind ; she joyfully 
 accepted his kind offer. 
 
 In the end there was no flagrant scandal, the boy 
 left his regiment by sending in his papers and went 
 abroad where a billet was found for him, but where 
 I hear he is not doing very well. His mother is dead 
 now. This is only one instance where Lord Roberts 
 has tried to give a lad a second chance, and had 
 soothed unhappy parents. 
 
 During the whole of Lord Roberts' life he had a 
 great dislike to cats, something more than a dislike, 
 for he instinctively felt when one was near him, even 
 though he could not see it, not only did it make him 
 feel uncomfortable but at times quite ill. Once at 
 a dinner-party when a cat rushed into the room and 
 rubbed itself against his legs, he nearly fainted. 
 
 With some people this might have been considered 
 affectation and absurd ; but no one could suggest 
 anything of the kind in connection with the brave, 
 plucky old warrior, he would have been the last 
 person in the world willingly to make himself con- 
 spicuous in such a way. Again while on board ship he 
 was walking up and down talking to a friend, and 
 suddenly became uneasy, looking about him right and 
 left, quite unable to attend to his friend's conversation, 
 at last he could stand it no longer and left the deck. 
 
 It was found the ship's cat had taken the oppor- 
 tunity to go for a stroll on top of the awning over the 
 quarter-deck. Lord Roberts had not seen her, but 
 felt she was near. 
 
 I have noticed that Generals often seem to have 
 an excellent idea of how to be comfortable. Lord 
 Roberts was no exception to this rule. For instance, 
 he was never without his pint of champagne for 
 dinner, even in the most far-reaching and protracted 
 campaigns. 
 
 I expect he regarded it as a duty to take care of 
 
3i8 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 himself as, of course, his health was of great import- 
 ance. 
 
 It was a splendid death for this fine old warrior, to 
 die among the soldiers with whom his whole life had 
 been associated, and who had always responded so 
 nobly whenever he had special work for them to do. 
 His body was brought back to the old country, the 
 ** England that to me has been so much ; England 
 that to me has done so much." His spirit must surely 
 be still in Flanders with the troops. 
 
 Sir Neville Chamberlain missed his old friend sorely. 
 Sir Neville is another of the lucky ones, well favoured 
 by Dame Nature in looks and disposition. He has 
 always been popular with men and women and has 
 never become the least spoilt. Always the same '* so 
 glad to see you " manner. His career is remarkable 
 for a man so young as he was when he began to hold 
 posts of trust and political bearing. In 1873 he joined 
 the Devonshire Regiment in India, three years later 
 the Central India Horse, a crack Bengal cavalry 
 regiment. When in the happy intervals, which in those 
 days existed between drills and routine work, the 
 officers of the regiment used to have their tiger- 
 shooting parties, excellent training for active service 
 for both officers and men of the regiment, a number 
 of the latter being skilful shikaris. Many other 
 well-known men have served in the Central India 
 Horse since, Lieutenant-General Sir Montagu Gerard, 
 a keen soldier and a great tiger slayer, who died while 
 serving as one of the British representatives with the 
 Russian Army, in the Russo-Japanese War ; Colonel 
 Algy Durand, who was British Agent at Gilgit during 
 the Hunza-Nagar campaign ; General Townshend, the 
 gallant defender of Kut ; Sir Edward Bradford, of whom 
 I have written, and others, the regiment has either 
 attracted good men or made good men. 
 
 Sir Neville counts it good fortune to have been 
 present at all the engagements fought by the troops 
 under Lord Roberts' command in Afghanistan ; and 
 was one of the wounded at the Battle of Kandg-U^-r. 
 
LORD ROBERTS 319 
 
 In 1889 Lord Lansdowne, then Viceroy in India, 
 appointed him, at the request of the Kashmer State 
 to put their Army on a sound financial and administra- 
 tive footing ; for seven years he carried out this work, 
 and these British trained " Imperial Service Troops " 
 of the State served with distinction in Chitral and 
 quite lately one of His Highness' regiments has gained 
 a high reputation for bravery and efficiency in the 
 fighting during this Armageddon. 
 
 Then followed various other appointments in India. 
 General Sir William Lockhart, who had succeeded Sir 
 George White as Commander-in-Chief, now selected 
 Sir Neville to command the Force in the Khyber Pass 
 with political charge of the Tribesmen there. All that 
 summer of 1899, block-houses were being built along 
 the Khyber Pass. 
 
 After this he was in South Africa as Private Secretary 
 to Lord Roberts, and then the important post of 
 Inspector-General of the Royal Irish Constabulary, 
 which he held for sixteen years. During his tenure of 
 office, there were many interesting episodes. The 
 missing Crown Jewels, the Wyndham Act in 1903 
 which facilitated the requisition of land by the tenant 
 farmers, the big Agrarian Campaign, characterised by 
 cattle driving in 1907-8, various riots in Belfast, and, 
 last of all, the outbreak of the Sinn Feiners in Dublin 
 on Easter Monday, 1916. This latter threw a severe 
 strain on the RJ.C. as a whole, being under strength 
 at the time, owing to a number of men having joined 
 the Army for the War. It speaks well for Sir Neville 
 Chamberlain that the Police came out of the nasty 
 business as well as they did, had there been any flaw 
 in the machinery it would now assuredly have come 
 to light. 
 
 I made many anxious enquiries at this time amongst 
 people in the know, as to how things were going with 
 the Police. I so feared Sir Neville might be made to 
 bear blame that belonged to other shoulders ; and 
 was thankful when the Force emerged from the ordeal 
 with even a higher reputation for discipline, courage 
 
320 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 and loyalty than it had deservedly enjoyed previously. 
 This was proved in the report of Lord Har dingers 
 Commission which investigated the causes which led 
 to the rebellion, and the action which was taken by 
 those responsible in Ireland to deal with it. 
 
 A few months later Sir Neville retired from his 
 onerous task, having served the State for forty-three 
 years, and yet he does not look that age. Someone 
 said the other day he looks '' disgracefully young," 
 which is very wonderful after having held the very 
 slippery seat of an Irish official with all its work and 
 anxieties for so many years. I am thankful he escaped 
 without being pulled limb from limb. Amongst his 
 many honours he possesses the coveted by all policemen 
 " The King's Police Medal." 
 
 Not long ago when talking over old days and com- 
 paring notes, Sir Neville said, '' Apart from all pro- 
 fessional honours, what I have valued most has been 
 the confidence and close personal friendship which 
 Lord Roberts honoured me with, and I feel, very 
 deeply, the fact that he selected me as one of his 
 executors." 
 
 Sir Neville is now manager, director or some such 
 thing in a big munition factory, I did not like to ask 
 him any questions about it as in these days there are 
 so many secrets people must not divulge. 
 
 There are still a number of people I should like to 
 write about, but my publisher will be growing restive 
 and I must restrain my inclinations, and be very brief 
 about the few I cannot pass over. Amongst them 
 General Cecil Park, the hero of Wagon Hill, where he 
 commanded the Devons and did such splendid work, 
 receiving the thanks of Sir George White and Sir Ian 
 Hamilton. 
 
 It may be remembered the orders received by 
 General Park were that the hill had to be cleared at 
 all costs as from it the Boers were a perpetual menace to 
 the Camp at Ladysmith. I think Colonel Park's own 
 account of that day in a letter to his wife, which she 
 has kindly lent to me, will explain the situation. From 
 
GKNERAI. C KCn. PARK 
 
LORD ROBERTS 321 
 
 his childhood I knew Colonel Park and he had always 
 been of a most retiring disposition and one of the most 
 unboastful of men, but one can I think read between 
 the lines of what he experienced at that time. 
 The letter to his wife runs : 
 
 '' January 8, 1900. 
 
 ** I have been through the most terrible ex- 
 perience of my life since I wrote last. Thank 
 God for His great mercy that He has brought me 
 through it. On Saturday, 6th, the Boers made a 
 most determined attack on Caesar's Camp and 
 Wagon Hill, which is long and flat -topped, running 
 East and West on the far side of the town [Lady- 
 smith]. It is all one ridge, the East being called 
 Caesar's Camp and the other Wagon Hill. The 
 Boers crept up at both ends before dawn ; arrived 
 at the edge of the crest and held on all day, some- 
 times gaining and sometimes being pushed back, 
 both sides firing heavily and with great loss. 
 
 '* We had five companies out occupying various 
 positions elsewhere, and I was left with three 
 companions in Camp, the officers being Lafone, 
 Field, Masterman and Walker (Somersets attached). 
 At 4 p.m. I got orders to start for Wagon Hill 
 at once with every available man to help Sir Ian 
 Hamilton who was hard pressed. I had the men 
 under arms, and we started within ten minutes ; 
 and got there in about five, just as a most terrible 
 thunder and hail storm burst over us, drenching 
 us to the skin. I reported myself to Hamilton 
 and asked what he wanted me to do, and he said, 
 ' Well, Park, there are about fifty Boers holding a 
 small ridge of rocks right in front of the line we are 
 holding here, and only one hundred yards off, they 
 have been there all day, are picked shots, and we 
 cannot get them out. We have men almost on three 
 sides of them but they are all under the cover of the 
 rocks, and pick off our men if they even show their 
 heads. They must be turned out, the only way 
 
322 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 is to rush them with the bayonet, can you do it ? ' 
 Of course I could only answer, * We will try/ We 
 settled details, and then I formed up the Companies 
 in Column, close behind one another, as there was 
 not room to form lines in the little hollow in which 
 we were. We fixed bayonets and charged magazines. 
 I explained to each Company exactly what we had 
 to do, and when all was ready Colonel Hamilton 
 said, ' Go on, and God bless you.' Away we went, 
 the men cheering and shouting, the first few yards 
 we were under cover, but when we reached the top 
 of the crest line, we were met by the most awful 
 storm of bullets. I never heard such a hot fire, and 
 can only compare it to the crackling of a dry gorse 
 branch when thrown into a fire. We saw then for 
 the first time what we had to do. The little ridge 
 of rocks held by the Boers was right up in front of 
 us, between it and us 130 yards of open flat grass 
 without shelter or cover of any kind. 
 
 '' The men behaved most splendidly ; every man 
 went straight and hard as he could for the enemy's 
 ridge ; though, as I ran, I could see they were 
 falling like ninepins on both sides of me : then at 
 last to my intense relief, when we were in about 
 fifteen yards of them, I saw the Boers suddenly 
 jump up, turn tail and fly down the hill for their 
 lives and the position was ours. 
 
 " After a minute or two, when we had settled 
 down in the position and I had time to look round, 
 I realised that not only had we lost heavily in 
 the charge, but we were still exposed to a heavy 
 cross fire from both flanks, from which we suffered 
 severely. Just then Lafone remarked that he 
 wished someone would tell the Imperial Light 
 Horse fellows, who were holding a little ridge behind 
 us, to fire at the Boers on our left front, without 
 a word Masterman jumped up and ran back across 
 the open through the hail of bullets to give the 
 Imperial Light Horse the message, and though he 
 was badly hit by at least three bullets in both 
 
LORD ROBERTS 323 
 
 thighs, he managed to reach them and give the 
 message before he collapsed. . . . Very soon after 
 that I was watching Lafone, who had got a rifle 
 and was sniping at the Boers, when I suddenly saw 
 a hole come in his head just above his right ear and 
 he just sank down as he sat. I crawled over and 
 found him quite dead, poor old fellow. A little 
 further on I found poor Field, also lying dead. 
 Walker of the Somersets had been shot dead during 
 the charge, and I was the only officer left. It was 
 then about five forty-five and there was nothing 
 for it but to hang on where we were until dark. The 
 rain and hail continued to pour down the whole 
 time and I had no coat of any sort, I lay behind 
 a rock blue with cold and my teeth chattering so 
 that I could hardly speak. It wasn't funk, though 
 I own I was in a horrid funk just before we started 
 out, but that all went directly we were off and 
 never came back again. I felt as cool and steady 
 as possible, it was sheer miserable cold. The men 
 had their thick khaki serge greatcoats, so were 
 better off. After a bit I spied a blanket lying rolled 
 up a little way off, so crawled after it, and to my joy 
 found there were two and a waterproof sheet. . . . 
 ** Never was darkness more longed for, and when 
 at last it came, the Boers gave us a final burst of 
 firing for about a minute which did no harm and 
 then bolted down the hill finally beaten. You will 
 I expect have seen all about it in the papers. . . . 
 I was thankful when dawn came and we could get 
 our dead carried down/' 
 
 Colonel Park then appears to have collected his 
 companions and returned to Camp ; where he says : 
 
 '* Sir George [White] came round and called me 
 up shaking hands with me, saying, * I congratulate 
 and thank you for the splendid work you and your 
 men did yesterday. It was magnificently done. 
 I am afraid you suffered very heavily, but you 
 
324 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 must remember that such work as that cannot be 
 done for the Empire without loss.' Those are as 
 nearly as I can remember his exact words. I 
 thanked him, and a lot of the Staff came round 
 and said how splendid it was and how the honour 
 of the day was ours and so on until I began to feel 
 uncomfortable and escaped." 
 
 In another letter dated January loth he says : 
 
 *' This morning came a lovely message direct 
 from the Queen to Sir George White sending con- 
 gratulations and saying, ' Greatly admire conduct 
 of Devonshire Regiment.' I feel so pleased and 
 proud that she should single out the regiment by 
 name." 
 
 Many letters followed, in all of them accounts of the 
 eager watching from day to day for relief of Lady- 
 smith and the daily disappointment. At last a letter 
 dated February 28th. '' Night. — ^We are relieved, 
 thank God, I can't realise it in the least yet hut it is 
 true." 
 
 In one letter I notice he says : '* G. W. Steevens of 
 The Daily Mail is dying, he has had typhoid, but was 
 almost convalescent when two days ago he had a bad 
 relapse and cannot now live forty-eight hours. He 
 will be a terrible loss to The Daily Mail and the 
 public." 
 
 The prices paid during the siege were fairly pro- 
 hibitive : ** I lb. common tobacco £5 los., 12 eggs 
 ;fi IIS. 6d. I bought a pot of peach jam yesterday 
 for 7s." 
 
 At Elandslaagte, Bill Park, for that is what we all 
 called him, did well when commanding the ist Devons 
 with whom he had grown up. They marched across 
 an absolutely open plain commanded by the enemies' 
 position. His coolness was much commented on, 
 while his battalion were subjected to a most severe 
 rifle fire. Also at Lydenburg, where he captured a 
 fort and took prisoners. 
 
LORD ROBERTS 325 
 
 Rather an amusing thing happened when Colonel 
 Park was seeing off some of the wives of those taken 
 prisoners. Being at all times polite and chivalrous 
 to ladies, he felt concerned for the comfort of the Boer 
 GeneraFs wife, who was being sent by train *' else- 
 where " — a concentration camp really. He was civil 
 enough to go and see her off by train and explained to 
 her how sorry he was that being so short of rations he 
 was unable to provide her with much food or comfort 
 on her journey ; she shut the window of the railway 
 carriage up in his face, nothing daunted and still full 
 of good purpose, he stood by the carriage door to 
 salute her as she moved off. At the last moment as 
 the train began to move, the window was lowered and 
 the cork out of a champagne bottle let off with a pop 
 in his face, while she shouted at him a word of affection 
 amongst sailors, according to Dr. Johnson, but not 
 usually heard in polite society. Colonel Park was 
 immensely tickled and laughed whenever he pictured 
 the scene over again to himself. 
 
 Many people have told me how brilliantly he 
 handled his men during that sixteen-hour fight on 
 Wagon Hill, Lord Kitchener, Sir Ian Hamilton, Sir 
 George White spoke highly of him. 
 
 His active service was one of which any soldier 
 might be proud. He served in the Afghan War 1879-80. 
 D.A.A.G. and Stalf Officer to General Sir R. Stewart 
 in Burma. At the end of his service in South Africa 
 obtained the Queen's medal with clasp. King's medal 
 with two clasps. Besides all the other appointments he 
 held at different times he was from 1900 to 1913 A.D.C. 
 to His Majesty the King. 
 
 He was very musical and when a small boy played 
 the organ in church, when his feet would not reach 
 the pedals without balancing himself first on one 
 side and then on the other. Music was born in him, 
 he had no lessons and played without notes, some of 
 his improvised harmonies were charming. 
 
 He started life well armed, for he was very religious, 
 with an unswerving faith — a great sense of humour 
 
326 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 and a self-contained happiness — able to be happy 
 without depending on other people — and had no 
 expensive tastes. 
 
 In 1884 Colonel Park married the daughter of 
 Admiral Robert Coote. A son worthy of so gallant 
 a father carries on the name, he also is in the Devons, 
 and was badly wounded at Neuve Chapelle, December, 
 1914, and had to have his hand amputated. 
 
 General Park died in 1913 and is buried at Exeter, 
 the family thinking that as he had passed all his life 
 in the Devonshire Regiment, it was fitting he should 
 rest near the headquarters of the regiment, where his 
 name will go down to history with its records. He 
 died from the privations he endured in South Africa, 
 not being at any time very strong and he never 
 entirely recovered from the enteric which invalided 
 him home. His funeral was an impressive sight. The 
 whole town of Exeter in mourning, shops shut, flags 
 half-masted. The service in the Cathedral, the 
 thousands of people that lined the roads, those who 
 had known and loved him, others who had only known 
 him from his work. At the time of the funeral a 
 battalion of the Devons were in Jersey, they sent men 
 to attend his funeral and the coffin was carried by the 
 sergeants who had served under him ; the last post being 
 sounded by a bugler who was with him on Wagon Hill 
 that memorable January 6th, 1900. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A MIXED BAG 
 
 The German Crown Prince in India — A German Duchess — At Ascot — 
 Her Bonnet — General Bewicke-Copley Arrested as a Spy — Wears 
 Lord Fitzwilham's Clothes — At Oxford with Cecil Rhodes — Rhodes' 
 Banking Account — Invites Author to Groote Schuur — His Gardens 
 in Africa — Present to Parnell — Pursued by Russian Intrigueante 
 — His Dress and Manners — Colonel Edward King-Harman — His 
 Mad Spirits — Puts Peas in the Organ — Captures " the Tail of the 
 Prophet's Shirt " in Mutiny — Puts Policeman in the Pond — Wrecks 
 the Place — Puts a Waiter in the Big Drum — Goes to Prison — Lord 
 Cardigan's Sympathy with a Subaltern — Sends His Seconds to the 
 Governor of Malta — A Musical Evening with Lord Kinnoull and 
 Lord Queensberry — A Pigeon Shoot at Sir Claude de Crespigny's — 
 Sir Charles Dilke and the Trainer — The Prince of Wales Learns to 
 Swim — Sir Charles Dilke on and in the River — Sir Spencer 
 Ponsonby-Fane — Queen Victoria's Walking-stick. 
 
 MANY stories have been told of the rather 
 remarkable escapades of the German Crown 
 Prince during his memorable Indian tour, 
 which came to such an abrupt conclusion. I do not 
 think, however, that the following has been told before, 
 and it is worth telling as it was the cause of his sudden 
 departure from India on a liner instead of a cruiser as 
 had originally been arranged. 
 
 At a ball given in a certain Indian city, the Crown 
 Prince's roving eye aUghted on a very beautiful lady 
 of high degree, who had been allowed to view the 
 proceedings from a discreet vantage-point above the 
 floor. The Crown Prince expressed an ardent desire 
 to make this lady's acquaintance ; this was managed 
 and during the rest of the time he was in that par- 
 ticular city, he was her constant and devoted slave. 
 
 However the programme of a Crown Prince's pro- 
 gress is an inexorable thing, and at last with many 
 regrets he and his suite had to leave and become the 
 
 327 
 
328 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 guests of a very high Enghsh Official at a considerable 
 distance from the home of his delight. 
 
 A reception of the most stately description had been 
 arranged at which many people were to be presented 
 to the Crown Prince. When it was time for him to 
 appear at the reception a message was sent to his 
 apartment to acquaint him of the fact. 
 
 The messenger was informed by members of the 
 Crown Prince's suite that his Royal Highness was in- 
 disposed and not able to appear. The truth was he 
 had hied him off back to the lady in the city he had 
 just left, having hired a motor to take him there and 
 bring him back in due course. 
 
 Horrified at the news of the Crown Prince's illness, 
 the High Official sent his own physician to see the 
 sufferer. Of course he was told the Crown Prince 
 could not be seen. The High Official being a shrewd 
 man began to make enquiries, and the police were 
 sent to make investigations amongst motor-car pro- 
 prietors in the neighbourhood and also in the city 
 where dwelt the Crown Prince's delight. The driver 
 of the car, hearing of the hue and cry, became seriously 
 alarmed fearing he would get into trouble- over the 
 affair and did what was perhaps wisest under the 
 circumstances — disappeared into the blue horizon with 
 his car, leaving the Crown Prince high and dry in a 
 city he was not supposed to be even near ! 
 
 The night felt chilly and a rather disconsolate young 
 man with a long nose and in civilian's clothes made 
 a modest appearance at the railway station and entered 
 a sleeping-compartment. In it a couple of snoring 
 subalterns on leave lay rolled up in rugs in the only 
 two comfortable berths. 
 
 The young man with the long nose sat discon- 
 solately upright and shivering until he could bear it 
 no longer. He then began to pull the rug from off 
 one of the sleepers, who promptly awoke and for a 
 moment stared in speechless astonishment at the 
 individual who had dared to try and rob him of his 
 wraps. The silence, however, was only momentary, 
 
A MIXED BAG 329 
 
 then followed language that had never been addressed 
 to him before in all his life unless it was by his father. 
 
 '' Do you know who I am ? '' demanded the young 
 man haughtily, as soon as he could make himself 
 heard. 
 
 The infuriated subaltern described very lucidly how 
 little he cared who or what the intruder was. This 
 was too much to be tolerated, so drawing himself up 
 to his full height the shivering young man replied : 
 
 '* Well, I am " and then remembered the last 
 
 thing he must do was to disclose his identity as he was 
 not supposed to be there at all. So he returned to his 
 cold and lonely perch, followed by parting insults 
 from the subaltern, who then curled up again and went 
 to sleep for the rest of the night. 
 
 In due course the chastened youth returned to the 
 official residence where he was a guest and went to 
 bed, becoming the Crown Prince again during the 
 process. Later in the morning came a message from 
 his host to say that a train was being prepared to convey 
 His Royal Highness to Calcutta. 
 
 '* Calcutta,'' quoth the Crown Prince amazed, '' I 
 am not due there for a long time yet. What are you 
 talking about ? '* 
 
 What passed between host and guest is best known 
 to themselves, but rumour stated that it was pointed 
 out to the Crown Prince that when a guest behaved in 
 such a manner in a house of the entertainer, the 
 responsibility became more than he cared to under- 
 take and that the train was now quite ready to start. 
 
 A cable had been sent to Berlin indicating that the 
 Prince's ways were oppressive, and Papa had at once 
 replied, '' Send him home at once." So that is why 
 he hastened away in a lowly liner instead of a cruiser. 
 
 The mental perspective of the German people seems 
 to be entirely different from our own. 
 
 When a certain German was over iiere in 1885, or 
 thereabouts, she went to someone I know who had 
 been bitten with the then fashion for going into 
 business. The lady in question kept a very smart 
 
330 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 bonnet shop, and a letter was received saying the 
 Duchess would call on a certain date to choose some 
 things for Ascot. 
 
 She duly arrived and was very charming, ordered a 
 few things, parasols, bonnets, etc. All were sent to 
 
 the Duchess at House. The lady who kept the 
 
 bonnet shop heard how well the bonnet and other 
 things suited the Duchess when she appeared in them 
 in the Royal Enclosure at Ascot, therefore was rather 
 surprised a few days later to receive back the bonnet 
 and parasol that had been worn on Cup day, with a 
 message that they were not approved of and could 
 not be worn. 
 
 My friend was very firm and said foreign royalties 
 or no, she was not going to take back things when 
 they had been worn, and sent off one of her porters 
 with the things again. In a day or two they were once 
 more left at the bonnet shop and were again returned 
 to the Duchess. That was the last seen of them. 
 I remember the Duchess well, she was very fair and 
 bonny, with the tiniest waist I ever saw ; I wondered 
 how she lived and breathed, it was almost painful to 
 see. 
 
 My bonnet-shop friend told me of several amusing 
 things that happened while she elected to remain in 
 business. One lady-in-waiting with a large family of 
 daughters and a not long purse ordered all sorts of 
 things; the bill ran on and nothing was paid. My 
 friend did not like to press for it as she feared perhaps 
 Royalty, who had been very kind to her and ordered 
 lots of things, might possibly be put off by the lady- 
 in-waiting if she was annoyed. At last a diplomatic 
 letter was sent and the reply came in person next day 
 as the lady-in-waiting walked in and asked what was 
 meant, as she considered it a favour to wear the things, 
 being such a o^ood advertisement for the shop ! Again 
 my friend had to be firm. 
 
 On another occasion an English girl who had married 
 a German Prince ordered some things and paid for 
 them with a cheque of her husband's that was returned 
 
A MIXED BAG 331 
 
 from the bank with *' refer to drawer " written across 
 it. This was done and the Princess was most apologetic 
 and appeared so upset that my friend felt sorry for 
 her. It was explained that certain money expected 
 from Germany had not arrived but would very shortly, 
 would madam keep the cheque and present it again a 
 little later ? This was done and the money received, 
 also a polite note from the Princess, so all was well. 
 
 General Bewicke-Copley, who served for many years 
 in the 60th Rifles, has seen a good deal of service ; like 
 all good soldiers he considers his regiment the finest 
 in the service. The 60th have an intense love for their 
 regiment, which has been and is a gallant corps. 
 Originally they were red-coated, long before the Rifle 
 Brigade were thought of : not until after Waterloo 
 did they become Riflemen. I believe they still march 
 to the time of 
 
 " I'm ninety-five, I'm ninety-five, 
 And to keep single I'll contrive ! " 
 
 There has been some falling off amongst them from 
 
 this boastful theory. 
 
 In 1887 the General was arrested at Brienne-le- 
 Chateau as a Russian spy and put into prison. It 
 was really very trying, for he was in France for the 
 perfecting of his French, and in the afternoons went 
 various walks and fishing expeditions in the vicinity. 
 One day when peacefully fishing, some gendarmes 
 marched up and arrested him, handing him over to 
 the mayor, who, by way of showing his thorough 
 knowledge of the English language, agreed that it 
 was ** incontestish " that he was an Englishman, 
 nevertheless he must go to prison ; so to prison he 
 went and spent the night there. 
 
 The following morning he was released, receiving an 
 apology through the mayor on behalf of the French 
 Republic, expressing himself as desole that such a 
 mistake should have been made. The part that struck 
 me as tragic was that in spite of the General's beautiful 
 French accent, on which he rather prided himself, he 
 was mistaken for a Russian. 
 
332 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 He had aroused suspicion by having taken the 
 opportunity to study the battlefields of the 1814 
 Campaign, and his prowlings were not looked upon 
 with favour ; especially as at the time of his arrest he 
 was fishing in a stream where it was crossed by one 
 of the new strategic railway lines. It was declared 
 that his fishing-rod was really meant for measuring 
 purposes. 
 
 Another experience the reverse of pleasant befell 
 General Bewicke-Copley when one of a large party 
 staying with the Bowers at Welham near Malton. 
 They had been to a ball at Lord Middleton's and on 
 their return thought they saw a stack on fire. Nearing 
 their destination it proved to be their host's house. 
 They all set to work on the pumps and stood in water 
 up to their knees in their best Sunday-go-to-meeting 
 evening clothes ; but all their possessions were burnt, 
 nothing of my brother's was left but the exceedingly 
 wet garments he stood in. The guests and indeed 
 the household had to find quarters elsewhere. The 
 General went to Lord Fitzwilliam — grandfather of 
 the present Earl, and masqueraded in his clothes until 
 some arrived from home. 
 
 I saw the General do a plucky thing once when a 
 boy, home from Rugby. A pair of spirited black 
 Irish horses belonging to a relation ran away while 
 the coachman was off the box doing something to the 
 harness. Seeing the run-away horses coming towards 
 him the General made a dash at their heads and, 
 though swept off his feet and swished past shrubs and 
 trees that slapped his face, succeeded in stopping 
 them. 
 
 At Oxford while he was at Merton College, Mr. 
 Cecil Rhodes was at Oriel; the latter had been up 
 earher and was ordered to South Africa for his health, 
 but had come up a second time. The General tells me, 
 '* Mr. Rhodes was always regarded with a certain 
 amount of curiosity at Oxford, in the days when we 
 used to spend our shillings freely, as a man who had 
 ' made some money.' He was a nice quiet fellow. 
 
A MIXED BAG 333 
 
 who used to wear very comfortable clothes — and even 
 then used to wag his forefinger at me and say, * I give 
 you a thought.' " 
 
 In Cape Town just before the South African War 
 Mr. Rhodes was using his private walk across the range 
 where a company of 60th Rifles were at musketry ; he 
 was somewhat disconcerted by hearing the swish of 
 bullets close to him, without having seen the danger 
 flag hoisted. He walked up to the officer in charge of 
 the shooting party, who was a master of six oriental 
 languages, and gave him a taste of his own, showing 
 a complete mastery of it, and taking the shine com- 
 pletely out of the vocabulary of the oriental language 
 man. 
 
 Hard things have been said of Mr. Rhodes at one 
 time and another, many quite undeserved, some 
 people even having the impertinence to discuss and 
 criticise the way he spent his money, saying it was 
 made in Africa and spent elsewhere. As a matter of 
 fact he spent a great deal of it in Africa, spending 
 large sums on thoroughbred horses and starting a 
 stud farm at Kimberley for the benefit of the country. 
 He bought all the latest improvements in machinery 
 for the benefit of the country, taught the farmers 
 fruit growing, and packing ; and to-day South Africa 
 largely supplies the English market. He even went to 
 the expense of bringing men from California to teach 
 the art. I do not think it is generally known that 
 notwithstanding the large fortune he made in the 
 South African Mines, his banking account was fre- 
 quently overdrawn owing to all he did for the benefit 
 of the country combined with his many charities and 
 philanthropic undertakings. 
 
 He loved flowers — big blazes of one colour. I have 
 always wished I had been able to accept Mr. Rhodes' 
 kind invitation to go and stay at Groote Schuur when 
 Lady Sarah Wilson was out there. He gave such 
 glowing accounts of his large garden of Blue Hy- 
 drangeas, about half an acre of them. It must have 
 been glorious, and growing at Christmas ! He was 
 
334 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 very kind to the poor people, allowing them to walk 
 about amongst his flowers and gather what they liked. 
 As usual on such occasions people abused his kindness, 
 spoiling plants, leaving picnic papers about and 
 making general nuisances of themselves, but he would 
 not have them stopped, saying why should the many 
 suffer for the wrong-doing of the few. 
 
 It was characteristic of Mr. Rhodes that after 
 building Groote Schuur and making it beautiful, he 
 filled it with guests and slept in an old outhouse 
 himself. 
 
 Not long before his death he rented Rannock Lodge 
 and some of the shooting from Lady Menzies of Castle 
 Menzies for a couple of months, paying £2000 for that 
 period. 
 
 These Scotch Moor shoots are usually calculated at 
 £t per bird, and £30 per deer, whether killed or wounded. 
 I am sorry to say he did not enjoy this shoot as he 
 hoped to do, as he was suffering a good deal from his 
 heart, and had to be very careful not to overexert 
 himself. He therefore rode on a shooting cob instead 
 of walking, which fretted him a good deal. 
 
 It may be remembered that he sent ;f 10,000 to Mr. 
 Parnell towards the Irish Home Rule movement. 
 
 One thing that struck me particularly about Mr. 
 Rhodes was the way he felt what has come home 
 to many of us at times ; that it is not a question 
 of only doing what we individually think right, 
 but must consider the effect on other people of 
 what we may do ; how it may influence them for 
 good or ill. 
 
 As a conversationalist Mr. Rhodes was charming, 
 in his dress untidy, and very simple, wearing no 
 jewellery as a rule, not even a tie-pin. 
 
 He suffered greatly from his heart for several years 
 before he died in March, 1902, leaving a remarkable 
 will — amongst other things clear instructions as to 
 his own interment, expressing the wish to be buried 
 ** on the hill which I used to visit and which I called 
 * the view of the world,' in a square to be cut in the 
 
A MIXED BAG 335 
 
 rock on the top of the hill, covered with a plain brass 
 plate, with these words thereon : 
 
 *' Here lie the remains of Cecil John Rhodes. 
 So much to do, so little done." 
 
 Preaching at his funeral service the Bishop of Cape- 
 town gave his text, '* Know ye not that there is a 
 prince and a great man fallen this day in Israel ? " 
 
 My book would not be complete without a reference 
 to my old friend Colonel Edward King-Harman of 
 Rockingham ; but impossible to give a proper idea of 
 the man in so small a space, I could write a whole 
 fat book about him. A man of unflinching courage, 
 great ability, consumed with animal spirits, generous 
 and emotional. Known amongst his friends, who 
 were many, as '*The King.'' He simply loved a fight 
 or row of any kind, and, being a very big powerful 
 man, whichever side he joined felt the benefit of his 
 weight. 
 
 At one time he was Under-Secretary to the Chief 
 Secretary for Ireland (Mr. Balfour), a post of which 
 he was the only occupant, as it was created for him 
 and died with him. When at Eton it took him seven 
 days' travelling to get from the West of Ireland to 
 Windsor. He was as full of mad pranks as his old 
 friend Lord William Beresford. 
 
 At Eton he began some of the astonishing enter- 
 prises for which he was noted all his life. Having 
 a large quantity of peas and no pea-shooter, he 
 conceived the idea of putting them down the pipes 
 of the chapel organ, thinking that when it was re- 
 quested to discourse sweet music it would act as a 
 grouped pea-shooter, peppering everybody in chapel. 
 He was disappointed, for nothing more happened than 
 the organ being put out of action after a few throttled 
 notes and querks. 
 
 After Eton he joined the 60th Rifles and went to 
 India in time to be present in the siege of Delhi, where 
 he was one of the first through the breach. A portion 
 of the loot he secured was the Sacred Relic of the 
 
336 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Shirt of the Prophet, what he called '* the tail of the 
 Prophet's Shirt/' and this he proceeded subsequently 
 to carry with him in his bag as he marched back 
 through India with his regiment. At various places 
 as he went down country he was met by deputations 
 of pious natives who begged to be allowed to worship 
 the Prophet's shirt. Eventually he was persuaded to 
 give up the relic, which for his own sake was just as 
 well, for I am certain he would never have been allowed 
 to leave India alive as long as he possessed it. 
 
 On his return to England he became adjutant of 
 the Artists' Corps and, as he had very highly developed 
 artistic tastes and a facile pen, he lived a Bohemian 
 life for some years, painting and writing a little whilst 
 living amongst artists. At this time of his life he was 
 a magnificent specimen of a man, six feet four inches in 
 his socks, beautifully proportioned, with golden hair 
 and beard, and a grand head set upon broad shoulders, 
 an ideal artists' model. Sir John Millais, who was a 
 great friend of his, wished to paint his portrait, but 
 could never persuade him to sit still long enough, 
 therefore the beautiful picture of him painted by 
 Millais was done after his death from photographs 
 and from recollections. 
 
 He married early in life a daughter of Sir William 
 Worsley of Hovingham, a relation of the Sir William 
 Worsley who drove with us through the floods to 
 Gilling. 
 
 He joined Isaac Butt's party in Ireland as a Home 
 Ruler and stood for the County of Longford, but after 
 a hotly contested election in which he thoroughly 
 enjoyed himself, as there was quite as much fighting 
 as speech-making, he was defeated. A huge black- 
 thorn stick with which it is said he literally fought the 
 Longford election is still at Rockingham; with this 
 stick and twenty trusty followers the great fair-haired 
 giant succeeded in holding a bridge across which about 
 two hundred voters had to come if they were to register 
 their votes for his opponent. Many sore heads were 
 registered but no votes. 
 
A MIXED BAG 337 
 
 The complete change in the policy of the Irish 
 Home Rule party from the ideal of Isaac Butt and his 
 earlier followers, made it impossible for Colonel King- 
 Harman any longer to act with the out-and-out section 
 of the party, which became the dominant factor and 
 drove men like King-Harman and subsequently Butt 
 himself out of the party. He now severed his connec- 
 tion with the Home Rulers and became Conservative 
 member in the late seventies for Dublin County. 
 
 One of the incidents in Colonel King-Harman's 
 earlier days in London was frequently brought up 
 against him by his political opponents. The Cremorne 
 affair, when he and a number of his chosen friends, 
 having dined well, set forth to wreck the Gardens, 
 carrying out their intentions fairly thoroughly, finish- 
 ing up by throwing the police into the pond, making 
 hay generally and returning to his club triumphant. 
 
 The proprietor of the place, named E. T. Smith, 
 overlooked the first row, but determined if there was 
 any fresh disturbance to make an example of the mis- 
 demeanants. On Derby night someone dared Colonel 
 King-Harman to repeat the experiment at Cremorne. 
 This time only one or two friends accompanied him. 
 First he turned all the Hghts out, followed of course 
 by pandemonium; at the end of the row one waiter 
 was missing and was found later shoved into the big 
 drum belonging to the band. 
 
 The police being in force this time and on the 
 look-out for eventualities, now, pour encourager les 
 autres, took Colonel King-Harman prisoner after a 
 fierce battle, the Colonel defending himself with tables 
 and chairs. Then followed one month's imprisonment ! 
 There were a good many well-known people, young 
 bloods and Queen's Equerries, who had a hand in the 
 fray, but all escaped except King-Harman. 
 
 Later he settled down into a more serious life, 
 becoming a keen politician and representative Irish 
 landlord with a huge estate; a rent roll of £40,000 a 
 year and a house or two as large as Windsor Palace 
 He was fighting the representative of Irish landlordism 
 
338 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 in the stirring days of the land war in the early eighties, 
 often carrying his life in his hands and he knew it . Many 
 conspiracies were made to shoot him, but no actual 
 attempt that I ever heard of was made on his life other 
 than in many fights. 
 
 He was full of sympathy and love for Ireland, it 
 was his misfortune to Uve in troublous times and to 
 be branded as an enemy of his country. 
 
 Mr. Parnell hated him for renouncing the party 
 when it became identified with rapine and outrage, 
 and the Home Rule party vowed revenge. 
 
 Colonel King-Harman died in 1888 at the early age 
 of fifty, and during most of those years thoroughly 
 enjoyed his Hfe ; the last sixteen he devoted to fighting 
 in the lost cause of Irish landlordism and the defence 
 of the Union. He had been in bad health for some 
 time, perhaps the frivolities of his early youth had 
 told upon him ; when during the Season in town he 
 said there was no occasion to take any garments 
 except dress clothes, as he went to bed about 8 a.m. 
 and dressed again in time for dinner in the evening — 
 after which he usually proceeded on the war-path. 
 
 Also there is no doubt the loss of his son, Lawrence, 
 who died of enteric fever at Hythe in 1886 at the age 
 of twenty-three, was a great grief, from which he 
 never seemed able to rally. He died from heart failure 
 while sitting up in bed talking to his family at Rock- 
 ingham. 
 
 Colonel King-Harman was devoted to his children ; 
 many times I have seen him dance sword dances with 
 his daughter Fay (afterwards Lady Stafford) when we 
 went to children's parties. She was very pretty with 
 masses of beautiful fair hair, while she danced daintily 
 with the swords crossed in front of her. He danced 
 opposite to her ; it was wonderful the way that huge 
 man tipped the ground with his toes, looking as if he 
 hardly touched it, he then advanced towards his 
 daughter, she advanced towards him, and he whirled her 
 round the room, her long hair streaming out behind her. 
 
 At the time of Colonel King-Harman's death he was 
 
A MIXED BAG 339 
 
 Member for Thanet. Not an eloquent speaker in the 
 usual acceptance of the term, but with a surprising list 
 of fierce epithets not half of which he really meant. 
 
 Lord Cardigan of Balaclava fame was one of the 
 friends of Colonel King-Harman's early years ; both 
 were headstrong impetuous men, but the latter did 
 not have the fierce quarrels with people that his lord- 
 ship did. Once when Lord Cardigan was staying at 
 Badminton a fellow-guest touted for an order for 
 wine. The fiery old Earl turned on him like a tiger : 
 *' Certainly not, sir, Fve too much of your filthy stuff 
 in my cellars at Deane.'' On some occasions he was 
 more sympathetic. A subaltern once asked him for 
 three days' leave, adding it was fhost particular — to 
 which Lord Cardigan as Colonel said, '* But, my boy, 
 your troop's for musketry.'' On being pressed as to 
 what was most particular he at first demurred to reply. 
 Lord Cardigan to encourage him said, ** Now between 
 man and man tell me why do you want three days' 
 leave ? " ** Oh ! well, sir, if you put it like that, I 
 want to bolt with another man's wife." ** Most 
 Hussar like," answered Lord Cardigan, *' of course 
 
 you can have the leave, why the didn't you say 
 
 so before ! " 
 
 The friend who told me this story added, ** I think 
 he thought it was part of the duty of his subalterns to 
 make civiUans jealous." 
 
 When he himself bolted with another man's wife, 
 he notified the husband his willingness to give him 
 satisfaction and received the following answer : 
 
 " Satisfaction, my dear sir, I look on you as my 
 greatest friend, you have already given me the greatest 
 possible satisfaction by taking off that blankety blank 
 wife of mine. . . ." 
 
 When at Malta Lord Cardigan sent his seconds to 
 call out the Governor for not returning Lady Cardigan's 
 call, so His Excellency put the police on to him, and 
 the gallant Cherubim (nth Hussars) had to get up 
 full speed and clear out without delay. 
 
 People did not care to argue with Lord Cardigan, 
 
340 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 he was so peppery, and being such an autocrat would 
 naturally resent one of his retainers replying after an 
 order was given. 
 
 At a shooting luncheon he pointed to a covert on a 
 neighbouring hill, saying to his head keeper, '' We will 
 shoot that after lunch." 
 
 The result being disappointing he wheeled the keeper 
 into line and read the Riot Act, demanding to know 
 
 why the there was so little game. *' Well, 
 
 my lord, in the first place the covert is not yours, 
 
 and Squire only shot it the day before yesterday. 
 
 I did not think you would find much.'' 
 
 This story has been attributed to one or two others, 
 but it is so characteristic of the Leicestershire Earl, 
 that I think it has found its right home. 
 
 I have known a good many men who have climbed 
 high in the professions who have had peppery tempers 
 equal almost to Lord Cardigan's, and some who were 
 very touchy, and easily offended. 
 
 That gallant soldier Sir H. Smith-Dorrien, whom I 
 met as a young man in India, was inclined to take 
 offence rather easily. I have heard him called strait- 
 laced by the gayer spirits of those days, and I fancy 
 some of the revue critics to-day will agree ; judging by 
 what has appeared in the press lately. 
 
 Another man who had lately married a lady with 
 rather fluffy hair found out one day that some of the 
 disrespectful A.D.C.'s called him '' Huffy " and his 
 wife '' Fluffy " ; he was much upset and told the young 
 men, '' I have no objection to your calling me ' Huffy ' 
 if it pleases you, but I strongly object to your calling 
 my wife 'Fluffy'!" 
 
 Admiral Lord Fisher, to whom I am distantly con- 
 nected by marriage, is one of the peppery order, a close 
 relative of his tells me they all fly when they see clouds 
 on the horizon. 
 
 Not to know '* Beautiful Bwab " is to write oneself 
 unknown. I believe the family name was Higgins 
 originally, now the family is represented by Bwab, 
 so called, I think, from his inability to pronounce his 
 
A MIXED BAG 341 
 
 own name. R's do not come easily to him either by 
 nature or habit. He originally served in the i6th 
 Lancers. After that the Grenadier Guards. Much 
 has been forgiven to Colonel Brabazon that would 
 have excommunicated most people. When I knew him 
 first he was very handsome and very spoilt, but amusing 
 and pleasant. I never quite understood why so much 
 side was tolerated by his brother officers or the com- 
 munity at large, probably because they knew it was 
 all froth and a kind heart was to be found underneath 
 it. I think Vanity Fair's description of him would be 
 hard to beat. So '*Bwab,'' bearded and faultlessly 
 dressed, after a brief campaign in Canada, took his 
 natural place as the leader of London Society ; and 
 when the paternal acres refused to keep him any longer 
 on the surface, he — with the calmness he would have 
 evinced in leading a forlorn hope or snubbing an im- 
 pertinent Duchess — retired to a regiment of which he 
 could never remember the number, and concerning 
 which he knew only that '' they wore yellow facings 
 and got 'em from Waterloo.*' However, it is recorded 
 that *' the fellows " of the vaguely designated regi- 
 ment did not like '* Bwab " and he, remarking to the 
 Colonel that he did not Hke '' the fellows," left the 
 Army and went off to do a little fighting on his own 
 account as a volunteer in Ashantee. Here, he alone, 
 in white kid gloves, took a village and was rewarded 
 with a commission in the loth Hussars. 
 
 I never thought the style of dress affected by Colonel 
 Brabazon was either smart or telling, his trousers 
 wide and flapping over his boots, his silly-looking 
 collars and curious ties were all patterns of his own, 
 but I did not think they added to the attractiveness of 
 his appearance. 
 
 I cannot picture him campaigning, without scent 
 for his handkerchiefs, pomatum for his hair and other 
 toilet requisites. But he is a brave soldier and a great 
 man amongst the ladies. His usual mode of address 
 to menkind is ** My dear Fellar." 
 
 My husband told me that once in South Africa, 
 
342 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 when the general commanding his division was speak- 
 ing to him about something that had not gone off quite 
 all right, he began from force of habit '* My dear 
 Fellar . . ," 
 
 History relates nothing further. 
 
 Another man who affected a dress peculiar to him- 
 self was the late Lord Kinnoull, an old and valued 
 friend of mine, nobody's enemy but his own, with 
 almost as much assurance as Colonel Brabazon. 
 
 Once at a new club ball when I was talking to 
 
 Colonel and he moved away for a moment to bring 
 
 a man who wished to be introduced. Lord Kinnoull 
 came up in his absence and said, *' Can you tell me 
 what relation I am to that man ? I ran away with 
 his wife/' At the time this happened his Colonel 
 seeing how conspicuous *' young Hay *' (as he was 
 then) was making himself advised him to go away for a 
 while on leave and break it off. Mr. Hay said he would 
 go away if the Colonel would lend him J^200, as he was 
 very hard up. This was forthcoming and Mr. Hay 
 went on leave and so did Mrs. . 
 
 Poor Fitzroy ! one of the kindest and cheeriest of 
 hearts, but unfortunate in his love affairs ; never 
 really happy until he married in 1903 Miss Darell, 
 who was as musical as himself. She played the violin 
 beautifully. Lord Kinnoull the organ, piano, har- 
 monium ; in common with the rest of his family he was 
 full of music. 
 
 A musical evening with Lord Queensberry and Lord 
 Kinnoull taking turns at the piano, apparently under 
 Queensberry Rules, was not easily forgotten. 
 
 At Dupplin the volume of sound Fitzie (as his in- 
 timates called him) got out of the organ in the hall, 
 originally fitted up as a chapel, was surprising. 
 
 He composed the music of the hymn for his second 
 wedding with Miss Darell and the parson wrote the 
 verses. 
 
 One curious thing about Lord Kinnoull, he said he 
 had never tasted whisky ; this for a kiltie is unusual ; 
 he always drank champagne, a bottle every day at 
 
A MIXED BAG 343 
 
 dinner. He was a temperate man, I have never seen 
 him unduly elated. He was a good shot, and staying 
 with the De Crespignys at Champion Lodge, when Sir 
 Claude gave two silver cups for the best pigeon shots, 
 it worked out as below : 
 
 Won 
 
 Highlander, (S»" 
 
 Guards . ("S- ri^'"'^''T^r ■ 
 
 \K. Champion de Crespigny 
 
 Rifles i ^^^ ^' Troubridge, Bt. 
 
 \Sir C. Champion de Crespigny, Bt. 
 
 So the mugs went North. 
 
 Not long before Lord Kinnoull died he gave me an 
 order for the Strangers' Gallery in the House of Lords 
 for a special debate I was anxious to hear, and over 
 which there was a good deal of feeling. My son and I 
 were hooted at as we drove to the House, being taken 
 possibly for some member to whom the crowd objected. 
 When we arrived my son was taken to the Strangers' 
 Gallery, but owing to Suffragettes having lately made 
 a scene from it, orders had been issued no woman 
 was to be allowed in it again, so I was taken to a comer 
 close to the members on the floor of the House, where 
 I saw and heard everything I wished to see and hear. 
 
 When it became time to turn homewards, I had to 
 return by myself, having lost sight of my son. To 
 my dismay I found the rather misty evening in which 
 we had arrived had now developed into a dense fog. 
 There was no chance of people getting their own 
 cars, and someone standing near the door advised 
 my jumping into the first thing that came up; it hap- 
 pened to be the Duke of Wellington's car, but his 
 party hopped in before I got a chance ; next came a 
 hansom with an excited horse, into this I half jumped 
 and was half pushed and away we went. I was by 
 way of going to the Hotel Cecil, but first we ran into 
 some raihngs, and then on to the pavement some- 
 where, and whenever the driver tried to pull up some- 
 
344 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 body either ran into us behind and called us names 
 or the horse reared and tried to turn round. 
 
 The traprdoor on the top of the hansom was opened 
 and I was informed the driver had no idea where he 
 was and the horse was a beast, and he advised me to 
 get out before we had an accident. This I politely 
 but firmly declined to do, I had no wish to be left in 
 the fog alone without any idea where I was. The 
 cabman became piqued and said something about 
 ** taking the consequences '' ; so we lurched about a 
 little longer shouting to other vehicle drivers to ask 
 where we were — nobody knew, wanted to know them- 
 selves badly. 
 
 At last a policeman with a flare light came to ask 
 what we were doing and why we did it. We now 
 found we were amongst the trees in the vicinity of 
 the Bird Cage Walk. Towards morning the fog lifted 
 a little and with the help of a policeman or two I 
 arrived once more at my hotel, very cold, and the 
 cabman requesting exorbitant payment after keeping 
 him all night ! My son had just arrived before me and 
 was wondering what had happened and where to go 
 and look for me. 
 
 There are still many old friends and acquaintances 
 crowding my memory, amongst them Sir Charles 
 Dilke, a great man on the river, where I first met him ; 
 he was an enthusiastic oarsman. I believe he was 
 coached by the ex-champion sculler W. G. East, now 
 Barge Master to the King, as he was to King Edward. 
 Mr. East also taught the present Prince of Wales to 
 row and swim. Two or three days a week Mr. East 
 used to go from his home at Richmond to Shepperton, 
 where Sir Charles Dilke had a beautiful place called 
 Dochetts Eddy, and here these two in the early 
 morning went off regularly in a double sculler away 
 up the river for a long pull. Sir Charles loved the 
 exercise and, no matter how late the sitting had been 
 in Parliament or elsewhere, he was never late for this 
 morning recreation on the river. On their return to 
 the landing-stage, each would slip off his flannels and. 
 
A MIXED BAG 345 
 
 diving side by side into the river, swim across and 
 back, this acting as a shower bath after the morning's 
 work. 
 
 The King's Barge Master, who, I believe, still lives at 
 Richmond, has trained many winners for the Diamonds 
 at Henley, including, I think, the present Lord Iveagh, 
 at whose wedding Mr. East asked for and received 
 permission to use the King's Watermen to line up 
 outside the porch of the church with the royal oars to 
 make the customary archway. When last I heard of 
 Mr. East he owned a riverside hotel called " The 
 Three Pigeons," the freehold of which was, I think, 
 given to him by Lord Iveagh with £100 a year for life in 
 remembrance of his training when in 1895 he won the 
 Henley Diamonds, a victory he repeated the next year. 
 
 I never liked Sir Charles Dilke, he had a peculiar 
 way of looking at one from under his lowered brows 
 that was not pleasing ; I did not like his manner 
 with women, and I did not like his disloyalty, the way 
 he used to allude both in print and out of it to the 
 Royal Family ; besides he was not at all exact in 
 many of his statements, which was misleading. At 
 one time he was an avowed Republican, yet from 
 1880 to 1882 he was Under-Secretary of State, and 
 President of the Local Government Board from 1882 
 to 1885. 
 
 In 1885 came the famous divorce suit — Crawford 
 versus Crawford and Dilke, owing to which he dropped 
 out of social life, but continued to use his pen. King 
 Edward VII liked him and was friendly towards him 
 until the scandal. I remember there were some 
 references in the case to Sir Charles being seen by a 
 milkman climbing down from a balcony in the early 
 dawn, which resulted in some absurd comic song, 
 something about 
 
 " Charlie Dilke he spilt the milk 
 Coming home from Chelsea ; 
 The ladies say that Charlie's gay " — 
 
 and something else — I forget the rest, but it was 
 amusing and I know he chuckled over it himself. 
 
346 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 The house in Sloane Street with the httle portico over 
 the doorway with windows looking on the street 
 which was mentioned at the case, remains, I beheve, 
 unlet. An agent in the street offered it to some friends 
 of mine at a low rent because he said nobody would 
 take it now. I wonder if the house hunters thought 
 the place would contaminate them ! 
 
 What a wonderfully young old man Sir Spencer 
 Ponsonby-Fane was. Up to the time of his death he 
 travelled up and down to town every week from 
 Brympton in Somersetshire. Such a dear picturesque 
 place with its ivy-clad chapel standing in the grounds 
 close to the house. He was a delightful companion, 
 full of anecdote, and took pleasure in his collections, 
 of which he had a variety. He showed me with pride 
 his wonderful collection of buckles of all ages and 
 many histories. Also a large collection of spear- 
 heads, I think they are called, belonging to the 
 " Friendly Societies." Nothing pleased him better 
 than to have one given to him that he did not already 
 possess. 
 
 One of a large family with ancient traditions and 
 some of them with courtly manners ; Sir Spencer 
 being one of the good-mannered ones. In 1857 he 
 was appointed Comptroller and Gentleman Usher to 
 the Royal Household, which post he held for many 
 years. No one could compete with him in matters of 
 precedent and royal etiquette. 
 
 He was apt to be impatient with people who differed 
 from him, whose views were not in accordance with 
 his own, and not a great favourite at Court in conse- 
 quence. Truth went so far as to say Queen Victoria 
 disliked him and that more than once only the tact 
 and good humour of his cousin Sir Henry Ponsonby 
 prevented serious trouble. I hardly think this is true, 
 or why should the Queen have wished him to have her 
 walking-stick as a remembrance of her ? I have seen 
 the stick at Brympton, it is a valued possession. 
 
 Since I have taken to writing books and for the 
 papers and magazines I have found still more kind 
 
A MIXED BAG 347 
 
 friends amongst the editors and publishers, all ready 
 to help me. Sir Willoughby Maycock, who wrote that 
 interesting book With Mr. Chamberlain in the United 
 States, has often been most helpful, as indeed have 
 many others. Sir Claude de Crespigny, Mr. Meyrick, 
 and relatives of those I have mentioned in this and 
 other books, as in several instances I was not sure of 
 my dates until they kindly verified my remembrances. 
 
 Mr. Burton Balding, late editor of Fry's Magazine, 
 always held out a hand to me, and before the War 
 wanted me to start a Women's Sports Magazine and 
 edit it in conjunction with him. He is now of course a 
 soldier. I hope he still finds time to write little lyrics. 
 
 I lay down my pen with regret. I have enjoyed 
 my chats with my old friends, whom I have not half 
 exhausted. I hope to introduce some of them in another 
 form, and under a different heading by and by. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abdul, Indian servant, 156-8 
 Abercorn, Duchess of, 143 
 Abercorn, Duke of, 143 
 Abu Klea, battle of, 55-7 
 Adams, V.C, Rev. J. W., 156 
 Afghan War, 114, 162 
 Airlie, Lord, 172, 199 
 Alexander, King of Serbia, 49-51, 
 
 Alexandra, Queen- Mother, 38, 39, 
 
 131, 132, 281 
 Altham, Graf von, 134 
 Arbuthnot, General, 184, 185, 188, 
 
 189 
 Ardagh, General Sir John — 
 anecdotes of, 225-9 
 as arbiter, 233, 234 
 in command at base of Nile Ex- 
 pedition, 229 
 Head of Military Intelligence De- 
 partment in South African War, 
 231, 232 
 a man of many parts, 224, 230, 
 
 231. 234 
 
 his marriage, 231 
 
 prophesies future greatness of 
 Kitchener, G. Portal and Baden- 
 Powell, 196 
 
 represents England at Hague Con- 
 ference in 1899, 231 
 
 as worker, 224, 232 
 
 Baden-Powell, Sir Robert, 196 
 Baker, General Valentine. 125, 191-5. 
 
 226, 239 
 Balding, Burton, 347 
 Baring, Lady, 192, 196 
 Bell, Mr. Moberly, 218-23 
 Bell, Mrs. Moberly, 219 
 Benedict, Sir Juhus, 33-5 
 Beresford, Lord, 57, 137, 220, 228 
 Beresford, Lord William, 210, 233, 
 
 335 
 Bewicke-Copley, General, 331, 332 
 Binning, Lord, 56, 57 
 BlUcher, Prince, 196, 238, 239 
 Brabazon, Colonel, 89, 172, 340-2 
 Bradford, Sir Edward, 299-304, 318 
 Brownlow, Colonel, 123 
 
 Buller, Sir Red vers, 198 
 Burnaby, Colonel Fred., 52-60 
 Butler, Captain H., 245, 246 
 
 Cambridge, Duke of, 55, 194, 205, 
 
 231, 304 
 Cameron, Mr., Correspondent of 
 
 Standard, 254, 255 
 Campbell, Sir Colin, 76, 77 
 Campbell, Sir Wm. Pitcairn, 316 
 Cardigan, Lord, 291, 292, 339, 340 
 Cavagnari, Lady, 112, 113 
 Cavendish, Lord Frederick, 276, 280, 
 
 307 
 Chalmers, Captain George, 47 
 Chamberlain, Joseph, 309 
 Chamberlain, Sir Neville, 314, 315, 
 
 318-20 
 Chermside, Captain, 226 
 Chetwynd, Sir George, 288 
 Chichester, Bishop of, 279, 280 
 Clarence, late Duke of, 281, 301 
 Clarke, Colonel Stanley, 215, 281 
 Cleland. Lieut.-Colonel. 118 
 Clements, Rev. and Hon. Francis, 
 
 12, 13 
 Colley, General, 90-3. 95. 9^ 
 Condor, Mr., 198 
 Connaught, Duke of, 206 
 Cowper-Coles, Captain, 27-30 
 Crespigny, Sir Claude de, 16, 177, 
 
 178. 343. 347 
 Cromer, Lord — 
 
 affectionate father, 238 
 
 appoints Sir G. Portal to Mission 
 
 to Abyssinia, 2 40 
 considered Sir G. Portal's death a 
 
 loss to the nation, 249 
 his courtesy and kindness, 235 
 his death in harness, 237 
 difficulties in connection with 
 
 relief of Gordon, 236, 237 
 his enjoyment of a joke, 238, 239 
 first shows his ability as financier, 
 
 235 
 his genius at discovering hard- 
 working and clever people, 236 
 joins the Artillery at eighteen, 235 
 Kitchener's loyalty to, 205 
 
 349 
 
350 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Cromer, Lord — 
 
 makes Sir G. Portal Consul-General 
 
 at Zanzibar, 245 
 Minister of Finance in India, 235 
 shares with Lord Kitchener the 
 
 reputation of being maker of 
 
 Egypt, 204, 235 
 trains Sir G. Portal in hopes of his 
 
 becoming his successor, 244 
 uses influence to get Kitchener 
 
 appointed Sirdar, 204 
 Cunyngham, Dick, 120, 126 
 
 Dilke, Sir Charles, 344, 345 
 Dodsworth, Sir Charles, 40, 41 
 Dormer, General, 225 
 Douglas, General Sir Charles — 
 
 Adjutant to Gordon Highlanders 
 at Sitapur, 89, 100 
 
 his career, loi 
 
 his death from perpetual over- 
 work, 10 1 
 
 difficulties as Adjutant-General, 
 104 
 
 goes in for banting, 105, 106 
 
 a hard worker, 224 
 
 his marriage, 106 
 
 his relations with Lord Kitchener, 
 103 
 
 his unpopularity, loi, 102 
 Draga, Queen, 49-51, 136 
 Dufierin and Ava, Marquess of, 124 
 Dupplin, Lord, 148, 149, 150, 151 
 
 East, W. G., Barge-Master to the 
 
 King, 344. 345 
 Edward VII— 
 
 asks Sir E. Bradford to accompany 
 
 Duke of Clarence to India, 301 
 his button- hole, 152, 153 
 conversation with authoress, 152 
 his coronation, 302 
 genius for remembering names 
 
 and faces, 314 
 and Girton (Mr. C. Sykes's valet), 
 
 20 
 and Kirby, the horse-dealer, 292, 
 
 293 
 receives first military training 
 
 under General V. Baker, 193 
 staunchness to General V. Baker, 
 
 194 
 tour in N.W. Provinces, 300, 301 
 visits Lord Dupplin, 151 
 Elisabeth, late Empress of Austria, 
 
 127-36. 139. 141. 145 
 Ewart, General Sir John, 74-82, 313 
 
 Fisher, Lord, 340 
 
 Foote, Col. Barrington, 228 
 
 Forbes, Archibald, 218, 252 
 
 Franz Joseph, late Emperor of 
 
 Austria, 128, 133-6, 146 
 Frere, Sir Bartle, 300, 301 
 
 Garibaldi, 58-60 
 
 Girton, valet to Mr. Christopher 
 
 Sykes, 19-22 
 Gladstone, W. E., 275, 306, 307 
 Gordon, General, 180, 183, 205, 236, 
 
 237 
 Gough, General Hugh, 119 
 Grant, Hilda, 152, 153 
 Grant, Richard, 152, 153 
 Granville, Lord, 205 
 Greaves, General Sir George, 190, 191 
 Grenfell, General, 225 
 Griffin, Lepel, 173 
 
 Haines, Sir Frederick, 159 
 Hamilton, General Sir Ian — 
 
 considered it a pleasure to work 
 
 under Lord Kitchener, 205 
 cultured language of reports of, 88 
 a favourite of Lord Roberts, 89, 
 
 314 
 great student of modern military 
 
 history, 99 
 invalided after Majuba, 96 
 terrible experiences on Majuba 
 
 Hill, 90-5 
 thanks General Park for splendid 
 work of Devons at Wagon Hill, 
 320 
 Harcourt, Archbishop, 66 
 Harcourt, Sir William, 296, 307-9 
 Harrington, Colonel, 215 
 Harvey, Colonel George, 191, 192, 
 
 239 
 Haweis. Rev. H. R., 257, 265-70 
 Hay, Frances, 148, 153 
 Hicks Pasha, 236 
 
 Ingram, Walter, 137, 138, 215, 230 
 
 Jenner, Lady, 176 
 
 John, King of Abyssinia, 240, 243 
 
 Kenyon, Lord, 16 
 
 King - Harman, Colonel Edward, 
 
 335-9 
 Kinnoull, late Earl of, 148, 153, 190, 
 
 215, 216, 342, 343 
 Kinsky, Prince, 128, 130, 139, 144-7 
 Kirby, the horse-dealer, 292, 293 
 Kitchener, Earl — 
 
 adventures of his youth, 207 
 
 his appointment as Sirdar much 
 criticized, 204 
 
 belief current that he still survives, 
 208 
 
INDEX 
 
 351 
 
 Kitchener, Earl — 
 
 consideration for his chauffeur, 208 
 deeply rehgious, 209 
 disappointment at not being em- 
 ployed after return from India, 
 
 206 
 exploration and research work in 
 
 Palestine, 198 
 future greatness prophesied by Sir 
 
 J. Ardagh in 1885, 196 
 and Greek merchant, 199 
 hospitality memorable, 208 
 and impudent subaltern, 200 
 his kindness and sympathy, 210 
 his life in peril several times, 207 
 looked well in tarboosh, 190 
 his love of animals, 208 
 personal characteristics, 197, 208, 
 
 209 
 playing with toy soldiers, 201, 202 
 preference for Oriental life, 200, 
 
 201 
 recalled from Egypt on outbreak 
 
 of Great War, 207 
 relations with Sir C. Douglas, 103 
 shared reputation with Lord 
 
 Cromer of making Egypt, 204 
 splendid work for relief of Gordon, 
 
 205, 237 
 his statue erected in Calcutta, 210 
 victim of practical joke by Sir G. 
 
 Portal, 202-4 
 
 Lascelles, Captain 9th Lancers, 142 
 Lawley, Sir Arthur, 43 
 Leigh, Captain Sir Chandos, 143, 144 
 Lesseps, Viscount Ferdinand de, 
 
 67-70. 156 
 Londonderry, Lady, 17, 287 
 Londonderry, 5th Marquess of, 18, 
 
 19. 286 
 Lowe, Colonel, 116 
 Lowther, Mr. James, 20, 283-91 
 Luccheni, anarchist, 135 
 Ludwig II of Bavaria, 129 
 Lumley, Augustus Savile, 180, 181 
 Lyall, Lady, 162, 164 
 Lyall, Sir Alfred, 162-4 
 Lytton, Lord, 173 
 
 Macdonald, General Hector, 208 
 Majuba Hill, 90-7, 127, 253 
 Manning, Cardinal, 61-5, 258 
 Maycock, Sir Willoughby, 347 
 Mayo, Lord, 174 
 Mecklenburg-Schwerin, Duchess Paul 
 
 of, 132 
 Middleton, Captain W. G., 128, 130, 
 
 131, 136, 13^46 
 Millais, Sir John, 336 
 
 Napier, Hon. John Scott, 107, 126 
 Newman, Cardinal. 65, 258 
 Northclifie, Lord, 221 
 
 Owen, Major R., 246, 247 
 
 Paget, Lord Alfred, 26 
 
 Park, General Cecil, 67, 320-6 
 
 Parnell, Charles Stewart, 272-6, 334, 
 
 338 
 Pease, Sir Joseph, 293, 294 
 Ponsonby-Fane, Sir Spencer, 346 
 Portal, Sir Gerald- 
 appointed by Lord Cromer to carry 
 out special Mission to Abys- 
 sinia, 240-3 
 as Consul-General at Zanzibar, 243 
 death at age of thirty-six, 248 
 expedition to Abyssinia, 240-3 
 kindness to authoress, 211 
 personal characteristics, 243, 244 
 plays practical joke on Lord 
 
 Kitchener, 202-4 
 referred to by Sir John Ardagh as 
 
 coming man, 196, 197 
 takes entire charge in Cairo in 
 
 absence of Lord Cromer, 240 
 treated by Lord Cromer as a son, 
 
 239 
 tributes paid to by Lords Cromer, 
 
 Salisbury, and Rosebery, 249 
 undertakes important Mission to 
 Uganda, 243-8 
 Portal, Captain Raymond, 246-9 
 Prior, Melton — 
 
 his amusing stories, 216, 250, 251, 
 
 254. 255 
 as artist, 252 
 
 belonged to adventurous school of 
 
 correspondents, 252 
 description of, 250 
 expenditure ais war correspondent, 
 
 255. 256 
 
 experiences at Majuba Hill, 90, 253 
 impressions of Kumassie and Is- 
 
 andlwana, 251, 252 
 indignation with autograph hunter, 
 
 217 
 and Lord Wolseley, 230 
 narrow escape from drowning, 252, 
 
 253 
 and Prince Imperial, 254 
 his version of death of Colonel 
 
 Burnaby, 56 
 
 Raglan, Lord, 76 
 
 Rhodes, Cecil, 332-5 
 
 Rhodes, Colonel, 246 
 
 Richmond and Gordon, Duke of, 155, 
 
 285 
 
352 MEMORIES DISCREET AND INDISCREET 
 
 Ridgeway, Lady, 172, 276-82 
 Ridgeway, Sir West, 126, 172, 279, 
 
 2 So 
 Ripon, Lord, 123, 163, 173 
 Roberts, Earl — 
 
 care for baggage animals, 116, 117 
 chivalry to Lady Stewart, 175, 
 
 176, 314 
 courtesy to all alike, 315, 316 
 death in France, 318 
 devotion of Sir Neville Chamber- 
 lain to, 314 
 dislike of cats, 317 
 escape from death at Lucknow, 313 
 his favourites, 314 
 friendship for Sir G. White, 86 
 genius for remembering names and 
 
 faces, 315 
 procures appointment of Captain 
 Stewart to Police in West Africa, 
 178 
 his prophecy of Great War, 206 
 reference to death of Lieut. -Col. 
 
 Cleland, 118 
 self-sacrificing devotion of Sir 
 
 Donald Stewart to, 173 
 his sympathy and kindness of 
 
 heart, 126, 314, 315-7 
 unveils Memorial to Sir Donald 
 Stewart, 179 
 Robertson, Sir William, 52 
 Roe, Dr., 121, 122 
 Rosebery, Larl, 249, 309 
 Rudolph, late Archduke of Austria, 
 133-7 
 
 Salisbury, Bishop of, 279 
 
 Salisbury, the late Marquess of, 193, 
 
 240, 249 
 Smith-Dorrien, General Sir H., 340 
 Spencer, Lord, 128, 129, 144, 275, 306 
 Stanton, Father, 64, 257-265 
 Steevens, G. W., 208, 324 
 Stephanie of Coburg, Princess, 134, 
 
 135 
 Stewart, Field-Marshal Sir Donald, 
 
 122, 172-5, 179, 314 
 Stewart, Captain Sir Donald, 174, 
 
 177-9 
 Stewart, Lady, 175-7, 314 
 Strathnairn, Lord, 141 
 Stratton, Captain, 123 
 Sufifield, Lord, 25, 26 
 Sykes, Mr. Christopher, 19-22 
 
 Teck, late Duchess of, 18 
 Tel-el-Kebir, battle of, 228, 229 
 
 Tennyson, the late Lord, 164, 265-7, 
 
 270-2 
 Thomson, Wm., Archbishop of York, 
 
 142 
 Tweedale, Mrs., 47-51 
 
 Vetochera, Baroness Marie, 135 
 Victoria, Queen — 
 
 and cripple, 311 
 
 funeral of, 302 
 
 holds Drawing Room, 38 
 
 Jubilee of, 134 
 
 left her walking-stick to Sir S. 
 Ponsonby-Fane, 346 
 
 message to Sir G, White, 324 
 
 nervous on Constitution Hill, 306 
 
 thanks Sir E. Bradford for services, 
 302 
 Vincent, Sir Howard, 304-10 
 
 Wenlock, Lord, 42, 43 
 Whewell, Dr., 267, 268 
 White, Field-Marshal Sir George — 
 addresses Gordon Highlanders 
 after their return from South 
 Africa in 1881, 155 
 anecdotes of, 87 
 in battle outside Kandahar, 120, 
 
 122 
 his hospitality and kindness, 85, 
 
 86 
 praised for way of giving orders, 
 
 125 
 rides in same race as his son, 87 
 thanks General Park for splendid 
 work of Devons on Wagon Hill, 
 320. 323 
 travels from Simla to Kabul in 
 four days, 123 
 White, Lady, 85, 86, 88 
 Wilkinson, General Harry, 124 
 William II, German Emperor, 137 
 William, German Crown Prince, 
 
 327-30 
 Williams, Sir Monier, 113 
 Wilson, Sir Charles, 57 
 Wolseley, Lord, 57, 205, 207, 229, 
 
 230, 251 
 Wombwell, Sir George, 291-3 
 Wood, Colonel loth Hussars, 172, 
 
 195 
 Worsley, Sir William, 40, 41, 336 
 Wynn, Sir Watkin, 133 
 
 Zanzibar, 245 
 Zebehr, Pasha, 237 
 
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