Peaceful personalities and warriors bold

Front matter

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

Contents

PAGE

I I

11 34

II

It was in the dining-room of the Old Mar Lodge on Dee Side that I first met His Majesty King Edward the Seventh, who was then Prince of Wales.

It was a characteristic house party the Duke of (then Lord) Fife had gathered together to meet the Prince. The Duke of Albany, Lord Hartington, and Lord Charles Beresford were among the men ; and the Duchess of Manchester, Lady Charles Beresford, Lady Lonsdale, and Mrs. Standish were of the ladies of the party.

The old Lodge, an odd-cornered, quaint, wooden building, was picturesquely situated overlooking a stretch of the river Dee, Round the main building was a series of chalets clinging to the bluff hillside dominating the river. The whole collection of cottages formed quite a village nestling round a charming little chapel, a window of which Lord Fife had dedicated to the memory of his mother.

The men of the party were fishing or deer-stalking all day, and the ladies would either fish or meet the stalkers at some bothy up in the hills and give them tea. After dinner there was a gathering o

o y.

w

Na.

I i of gillies in the court-yard of the Lodge, and the slain stags were placed in a row, when, to the triumphant screel of the bagpipes, in the weird light of the flickering flare of a hundred torches and a huge fire of logs, the lucky shots would examine the antlers of their quarry, afterwards joining in a reel round the stags finishing up with a flying leap through the flaming logs. Later, a string band would play the most delightful waltz music, and the guests would foregather in the hall and dance till the small hours.

During dessert on my first night at dinner the Prince sent for me to be seated near him. He said —

" I think I have seen you before, Mr. Villiers ; your face is quite familiar to me."

The Prince's marvellous memory for faces was, I knew, proverbial. He had met me before at the gate leading into the paddock at Goodwood, where we both stuck for a moment. I am afraid I treated him like any ordinary person and did not immediately give way, and I remember his good-natured stare and my tardy recognition and confusion at my seeming discourtesy. I was therefore much relieved when he continued —

"Ah, yes, of course, I have seen a portrait of you taken with Mr. Archibald Forbes."

The Prince was much interested in certain points in the Russo-Turkish war which I was able to give him, and he was very eulogistic of the brilliant service Valentine Baker had rendered to the Turks, regretting we had lost such an excellent cavalry leader.

Major (afterwards Sir C.) Teesdale, one of His Royal Highness' equerries, was at the table and, to his surprise, the Prince toasted him. It was the anniversary of his Victoria Cross day and the Prince had remembered it ; he always seemed to remember anything that was pleasant and agreeable.

The next morning Lord Fife and the Prince were going deer-stalking, and H.R.H, was good enough to say I might join them. I appeared ready to start when the Prince caught sight of my cap.

"I'm afraid that won't do, Mr. Villiers ; it is very picturesque, but you would startle the deer with that bonnet."

" I have no other, sir," I replied.

" Never mind, I will lend you one of mine."

Presently I was rigged up with the royal cap, of a proper tone to melt in with the rocks and heather.

I shall never forget that delightful tramp up the hills, the dodging behind rocks and crawling over the heather when the gillies, scouting in our front, made any significant sign. The Prince was never too absorbed with the sport to admire the beauty of our surroundings when the wavering mists unfolded some pocket of a valley with its dew-laden greenery and luminous, pearly burns. These sights brought the conversation round to the art of reproducing them on canvas. With master-pieces of landscape or figure-studies ; the great battle-pictures of de Neuville ; the smaller, but more finished, studies

I of Detaille and the vigorous work of Reinault, the Prince seemed to be familiar. In another moment he was making a picture himself, looking like a Highlander stalking an Afridi up in the wild hills of Afghanistan, as he dodged from rock to rock and at last took steady aim. One of a drive of grey, wraith-like figures, stealing through the dapple of purple shadow and patches of sunlight, had fallen to his gun, and we hurried up to the poor beast struggling to regain its footing and held its antlers while the Prince ended its sufferings with the coupde-grace.

At mid-day we sat down near a pool of cool, bright water to eat our luncheon. I found, in the hurry to change my cap, I had left behind my parcel of sandwiches and the Prince, seeing I had none, was eood enough to share his rations with me. We were seated on the top of a mount overlooking a vast confusion of hills, dales and stretches of open country, and, in reply to a question from the Prince, I understood Lord Fife to say that as far as we could see the land belonged to him. And, I thought, surely there could be no fairer domain in all Scotland.

Towards sunset the dead stags were brought down the rugged hills on ponies when they were carted to the Lodge, while we took tea in a bothy with some of the house-party who had come out to meet us.

Her Majesty Queen Alexandra, then Princess of Wales, was staying at Abergeldie Castle, and would occasionally drive over to take afternoon tea at Mar Lodge. Directly I was presented to her a thrill of enthusiasm possessed me at her gende charm of manner. She at once chatted about the campaigns I had been through and, I found, had an accurate knowledge of all the interesting phases of the, then, recent Russo-Turkish war.

The day of her visit a picnic was arranged at some picturesque spot on the Dee where the house-party camped out for the afternoon. The women fished while the men built a fire to boil the kettles ; then the ladies cut bread-and-butter, improvised spits from twigs to make toast, and prepared tea ; while the stately footmen took their ease at a respectful distance, not even daring to approach to assist in washing up the cups and saucers. The Royal party was, for a few minutes, living the simple life, and it struck me that if their station allowed they would have liked to live that life a little lonsfer, for both the Prince and Princess, as well as their friends, seemed to mightily enjoy it.

Later on in the year I was invited to stay a few days at Abergeldie Castle. During my visit the coach-house, under the direction of the Prince of Wales, was transformed into a charming litde theatre, and Mr. Edgar Bruce and his Company were commanded from the Princes theatre, London, to perform the popular play of the Colonel.

Her Majesty the late Queen, came over from Balmoral to witness the performance. It was the first time since the death of the Prince Consort that she had seen a play, and there was much joy and excitement in the Royal Household at the unusual event. Her Majesty seemed to appreciate the acting immensely. I was seated in the row immediately at the back of the royal chairs, and I could see her absolutely shake with laughter at the fun of the piece.

After the play we returned to the Castle and supped. Mr. Bruce and his Company were entertained in a specially arranged marquee, and the Prince and his equerry paid them a visit to see that they lacked nothing to make them comfortable after their exertions.

The first night of my stay at the Castle I was introduced to Field- Marshal Lord Napier of Magdala, who was also a guest. He told me that he remembered two colleagues of mine, Mr. William Simpson and the explorer, Mr. H. M. Stanley, who were with him in the capacity of correspondents during his command in the Abyssinian campaign. Lord Napier was a fine old soldier ; his face was indicative of a stern and resolute character, and his eyes, which were remarkably large, had a fire in them which seemed to be smouldering but, in spite of his age, might blaze out at any moment with almost youthful brightness. The night before I left the Casde I was rather late in leaving the smoking-room and it was much past midnight before I retired to rest. My bedroom was one of the few in the old grey tower, which visitors to Dee side can see standing out so plainly on the south bank of the river ; Lord Napier was lodged in a room just below me. As I ascended the tower a gust of wind from an open window suddenly blew out the candle. Having no matches I had to proceed in the dark. When I thought I had reached my room I boldly turned the handle of the door, stalked in, and commenced undressing. I threw my cravat on the bed and heard a suppressed yell. It had evidently struck the occupant in the face, and a voice growled out —

" What the blank — blank — blazes was that ? "

Then I heard a hurried fumbling for matches. But before one could be struck I had gained the stairs ; I knew where my room was now, a flight higher. W^hen I reached it I listened on the landing, and could hear the old field-marshal still painting the atmosphere blue, and hunting for the strange animal which had disturbed his slumbers.

Among the guests at Mar Lodge were also Lord Rowton, Mr. Horace Farquhar (now Lord Farquhar, Master of the King's Household), Lord Algy Gordon- Lennox, and Mr. George Forbes.

The Duke of Albany was a keen student of literature and art, and we had many chats about painting and pictures. He had a gentle, rather nervous demeanour, but looked remarkably handsome in the Stuart tartan when he dressed for dinner, his face and bearing reminding me of one of the famous portraits of Prince Charles Edward. He was very particular about being properly addressed. The nio-ht of the duke's arrival at the

Lodge there was a ball. On seeing a stranger in the room he came up to the lady with whom I was chattinof, and asked her to introduce me. She at once said —

** Mr. Villiers, Prince Leopold."

The prince drew himself up with some little hauteur, then smilingly correcting her, replied —

" The Duke of Albany, if you please."

A very different type of man is his brother. Prince Arthur of Connaught, whom I met the following year in Egypt. I doubt if there is a keener soldier or, for the matter of that, an officer who knows much more about his profession, than the Duke of Connaught. His great misfortune, from a soldier's point of view, is that he is a prince of the Royal House, and therefore his duties do not always lie in the direction of campaigning. One cannot help thinking that if he had lived in the Middle Ages, when it was the acknowledged business of princes to be foremost in every war, the duke would have taken an active part in every campaign in which his country was involved, for his heart and soul is in the fighting life of a soldier.

I first met him out in Egypt, where he was in command of the Guards' Brigade. A little engagement at El Macfar turned into rather a big affair, and Lord Wolseley was obliged to send for reinforcements. The Guards were ordered up, but before they arrived the fighting was over, and I was returning with my budget of sketches to Ismailia. As I rode over the desert by the side of the railway embankment I saw the Guards, their faces catching the full glow of the setting sun, marching along the permanent way, with the Duke of Connaught at their head.

As they approached I rode up the embankment, dismounted a few paces before the general, and saluted. He asked me for information, and when I told him the result of the fight and that it was all over, a look of keen disappointment came into his blue eyes, which a moment before were full of eager expectancy. As the ominous words were passed down the ranks the whole brigade seemed to lose its elasticity, the buoyant stride of the men dropped down at once into the tramp of a mournful procession as the disappointed regiments passed onwards in the gathering night.

The postal service in Egypt was in the hands of a contingent of the 24th Middlesex Volunteers, a regiment in which I had the honour of holding Her Majesty's commission. One morning a few of us at the front were under quite a considerable shell-fire for some time. The duke happened to ride into the position during the afternoon, and hearing of the incident, sent word he would like to take tea with us. It was a graceful act to show his appreciation of our services as Volunteers.

Lord Rowton was better known as Mr. Montague Corry, the famous private secretary to Lord Beaconsfield. He was lean and lithe, and had pronounced

Hebrew features, with keen, dark, protruding eyes. After dinner we used to chat together over our coffee under the verandah of the Lodge. With much humour he told me how he first came across his chief. It was at a lady's house in London, where he had improvised some Christy minstrels for the amusement of the guests and was playing corner-man. Disraeli had sauntered in from one of the card rooms, had overheard his tomfoolery, and was evidently amused ; for, after Corry had washed his face and joined the party, Disraeli came up to him, and said —

" Are you not the young man who made us laugh so just now ? "

"Glad to have amused you, sir," returned Corry.

" I thought it was very bright and clever," answered the great statesman ; " come and see me ; I should like to meet you again."

" I thought but little of this invitation at the time," Lord Rowton told me, " but some time after, I wanted employment, and thought I would call on the ofreat man and see if he could befriend me. He received me kindly, but told me that he could offer me nothing at present. Months passed by, I heard nothing from him and thought he had entirely forgotten me ; when one morning I got a note asking me to call, and found that all the time he had been waiting to offer me a secretaryship, but opportunity had not served."

One niorht Lord Rowton related to me the " Peace with honour " incident,

"You know, Villiers," said he, " I was really the indirect cause of that event coming about. Lord Beaconsfield was not quite accustomed to the wily manoeuvres of the great German chancellor, and got so disgusted that he told him if certain points in the negotiations were not at once conceded he would break up the conference. Of course Bismarck thought this was all diplomatic bluff, and evidently winked the other eye. I could see that a threat of this kind by my chief was useless. So, unknown to him, I wired to Dover for a special boat to meet a train arriving at Calais on a certain date. Bismarck took the bait. Of course he read every telegram sent home by the delegates, and thought the one I sent meant business and that Disraeli intended to return. He immediately climbed down, met my chiefs views, and we eventually came back from Berlin with flying colours."

There could hardly have been a galaxy of greater beauty gathered together under one roof than represented by the lady guests at the Lodge.

The Duchess of Manchester, now Her Grace of Devonshire, was still very beautiful. She was probably the most beautiful woman in Europe a decade earlier. Lady Lonsdale was then a remarkable type of brunette loveliness ; Lady Mandeville, Mrs. Standish and Lady Charles Beresford were all types of beauty in those days.

The husband of the last lady. Lord Charles Beresford, was the life and soul of the house-party, and, like a boy fresh from school, was always up to some frolic.

From time immemorial the Beresfords have been proverbial for reckless dare-devilry, and Lord Charles was no exception in this respect to his ancestors ; he would say and do things that other men would not dare to venture. When campaigning he was always breezy and bright, and the soul of energy. He invariably had some new idea or scheme hatching in his restless brain.

When the trouble with Arabi Pasha broke out in 1882 I found myself in Alexandria. The city was nearly deserted by Europeans and rather uncomfortable to live in. Arabi's troops were growing more insolent day by day, and they swarmed everywhere. All the hotels were being closed, or, if not actually closed, the personnel was leaving, and one had to pig it as best one could. Therefore, when calling on Lord Charles on board the litde gunboat, the Condor, of which he was commander, I was more than delighted when he offered to put me up. His cabin was daintily furnished and had about it many nicknacks which gave it the appearance of a cosy drawing-room. At night the cabin was transformed, by means of two swinging cots hitched to the ceiling, into a sleeping-chamber, and a silver bath was introduced ready for our ablutions in the morning.

When I had finished my day's sketching in the hot and evil-smelling city it was sheer joy to return to the comfort of the little Condor with her smart, clean decks skimmed by a slight breeze from the sea.

The Condor, being of shallow draught, was moored in the inner harbour close up to the Ras-eltin Palace, the summer residence of the Khedive, for the purpose of rendering assistance to Tewfik's wife and children if Arabi should attack the place. What with this possibility, and looking after the refugees who had fled the city to the tramp steamers in the harbour, Beresford had plenty to occupy him while the war ships were waiting for the coming fight.

After the bombardment, within the flash of an electric spark and the time to hurry the message into the special edition of a London evening paper, Beresford suddenly leapt into fame by the exploits of the Condor before the giant Fort Marabout, and was known ever afterward to the blue-jacket as " Lord Charley." When we occupied the city I found that he was employed ashore as chief police constable, supreme judge, high sheriff, executioner, and Lord High Anything Else of a useful nature. As they say in America, "He was a live

man."

When Lord Wolseley arrived to take command of the army and every one ashore immediately came under military control Beresford wanted to become a soldier too, inasmuch that, wishing to see the fighting, he wanted to be taken on in any capacity, and even went so far as becoming a uekesford's hlue-jackkts on one of Gordon's steamers.

iToface p. 46.

i war-correspondent, appearing ashore one day in the usual Norfolk jacket, top boots, and riding breeches, the uniform of these gentlemen ; but our " only general " at the time, would not allow officers, naval or military, to represent newspapers, so I suppose Beresford ate his heart out on his little ship while the army was making history.

During the Nile expedition of 1884 I found him in command of the bluejacket contingent. The afternoon of our march into the valley of Abu Klea I met him again. He was leading his sailors, who were mounted on camels, on a white donkey. So anxious were our men to be at the enemy that some of them were difficult to keep in hand and they were straggling all over the place. I was riding a smart, quick, little pony and Beresford on sighting me asked me to carry a message, as his mount was not fast enough, to Lord Cochrane, the officer in command of the straying men, to point out the danger of not keeping on the line of route. In the subsequent fight when the British square was rushed by the Dervishes he nearly lost his life. He was knocked down, but a camel partly fell over him and he was thus saved from the fanatical spearmen who for the moment could not stab at him.

A few days after I was able to be of service, when he fell sick, by finding a bugler down in the camel-lines by the river, when he was compelled to rally the stragglers and wounded to protect the village of Gubat, as Sir Charles Wilson had marched off with the British army to attack Metemmah.

His naval contingent being decimated, and all the officers either killed or wounded, he called for volunteers, and I wavered whether I should join the Queen's navy. It was a brilliant opportunity lost, for I might now, with ordinary luck, have become an admiral had I not had the interests of my paper at heart and decided to serve it alone. If I had known then how woefully indifferent newspapers are to the untiring work of their war-correspondents, and what little reward one gets for the energy one expends and the risks one runs in procuring news or sketches for them, I should certainly have accepted Beresford's offer.

Ill

Another naval officer I met in Egyptian waters in 1882 was Sir Beauchamp Seymour. I called to pay my respects on board his flagship when the British fleet was about to bombard Alexandria. This admiral (afterwards Lord Alcester) had a sobriquet given to him by the Navy, " The Swell of the Ocean." I could never quite understand why this title was applied to him. It was certainly not in virtue of his smartness of attire, because I found him generally in his shirt-sleeves, as was the case on the morning of my call. He was perspiring in a white shirt and solar top^e. The weather was exceedingly hot, and he was continually lifting his helmet and mopping his forehead with a voluminous, coloured handkerchief. After pleasantly greeting me, he said —

" Your colleague, Mr. Cameron, has also joined my fleet and is coming to dine with me this evening. Will you come too ? "

" Certainly, with pleasure," I rejoined.

There was a hearty bluffness about the admiral that was irresistible. He was rather thick-set, of medium height, and he had a face that reminded one of the skipper in Millais' famous picture, The

North- West Passage; strong and genial, but one that could quickly change into a sternness most imposing and emphatic. It suddenly changed in this way while I was still talking to him.

His flag-lieutenant, now Vice- Admiral Sir Hedworth Lambton, saluted and reported the French captain coming aboard. The genial light died out of Seymour's keen grey eyes, and as they flashed anger, he growled —

'• What the devil does he want with me now? "

** He's just coming on board," continued Lambton. " Will you receive him in your coat, sir I*

" Why hang it, yes," flustered Seymour, who had forgotten his neglig^ attire.

In another moment he was wrestling with his dress-jacket, epaulettes, and sword, and had just time to straighten himself and wreathe his face into an affable smile before the dapper little French officer approached him.

When the bombardment of the Egyptian forts took place, I saw the admiral, who had transferred his flag to the Invincible, because of her light draught, anchor the ship before Fort Mex and slog away at the Egyptian works with her broadsides, much after the fashion of old Nelsonian days. The "Swell of the Ocean" was sternly standing on his bridge in shirt and trousers, watching the effects of his shell-fire through a telescope, and was still mopping his head with that voluminous handkerchief.

i (

"THE SWELL OF THE OCEAN " AND HIS FLAG-LIEUTENANT.

SIR WILLIAM HEWITT AND HIS AHYSSINIAN ESCORT.

i

Sir William Hewitt was another admiral I had the gratification of knowing. He had the same bluff, hearty manner that was characteristic of Lord Alcester, but with a temper rather hasty and explosive at times. Knowing this, I was somewhat uncertain as to my reception on our first meeting. After the expedition in the Eastern Soudan against Osman Digna there was nothing much to do for the war-correspondents at Suakim. Sir William was about to pay a friendly visit to King John of Abyssinia, and Mr. Cameron of the Standard had been invited to accompany the admiral, much to the chagrin of his confreres, who clamoured to be taken also. This, he told them, would be impossible. There was so much ill-feeling over the matter that Sir William at last even refused to take Cameron. I had not been one of the applicants and I resolved to accompany the expedition by applying to Mason Bey, an American, who was about to join the party on behalf of the Khedival Government, and who was good enough to take me on as his private secretary. When the expedition started up country from the Port of Massowah I rode beside Mason and the Egyptian contingent. The vigilant eyes of the irascible admiral soon caught sight of me, and presently I found his A.D.C. by my side with a message from his chief to report myself. I rode up to him with much misgiving.

" How is it, Mr. Villiers," said he, " that you have managed to come with us ? "

5^

I told him of the capacity in which I was acting for Mason Bey, the Egyptian delegate, and would not, if he wished it, do any correspondence for my paper but strictly keep to my billet as secretary for Mason. He, to my astonishment and pleasure, answered —

** Do just what you like in this matter ; but I am very glad to see an artist with the expedition, for it seemed to me a pity that so interesting a journey should not be chronicled with pen and pencil. Come to me if you want anything."

I was very delighted with this reception, and on the journey up through the passes on to the Abyssinian tableland had many pleasant chats over my previous campaigns with him.

One afternoon, just as we were about to encamp, his A.D.C. brought a note from the admiral asking me to dine with him. I found on entering^ his tent that my friend Mason was the other guest. When the champagne was opened Sir William proposed my health, reminding me that it was my birthday. I was so astonished at the fact, which I had forgotten myself, that I inquired how he knew of the auspicious occasion. There was a merry twinkle in his eyes, as he said —

" You told me that the Russo-Turkish War was declared on your birthday. I know that event occurred on the twenty-third of April, and as it is now that date and St. George's day, I thought I would celebrate both \k\&fMe of our patron saint and your birth."

1 m

SIR RUDOLPH VON SLATIN.

Yl'oface p. 52.

I

After delivering his credentials and Her Majesty's presents to the king Sir William asked permission to return at once to the coast, as the rainy season was now threatening. He was, however, politely told that there was no immediate hurry. A few days later the admiral applied for permission to send an officer to the coast with despatches. This request was granted, but we found that the Negus Negusti evidently thought that there was no immediate hurry in this matter also. For day after day passed by and the necessary escort of Abyssinian soldiers was not forthcoming. There was no doubt, at this period, that the Italian consul at Mocha was using all his influence to minimize the success of our mission. One day we intercepted a letter to the Negus from an Italian who claimed to have solved the difficulty of steering balloons against the wind. The intention of the letter was to impress upon the king the superiority of the Italians over the English in the art of war.

In the meanwhile the king, courtiers, and officials attached to the palace began to show us marked coolness. The British admiral suppressed his anger at this treatment as much as he could, which was marvellous, considering his choleric disposition. However, one afternoon, as I was about to call on him, I was suddenly arrested by vigorous and emphatic expletives coming from the direction of his tent. He was pacing up and down in great dudgeon, very red in the face and evidently bursting with indignation. Occasionally he halted and shook his fist towards the king's palace up on the hill, when the following threats were plainlyaudible —

" By G — ! if I only had my Euryalus up here I would give you, you infernal nigger, something for your insolence ! "

This, I concluded, meant a few live shells into the reception-room of the king's palace.

The Negus Negusti, King of Zion, The King of Kings of Ethiopia — or "the Nigger of Niggers," as a young wag of our mission abbreviated his long title — was rather a remarkable personality. The coming of his presence was always notified by the Court drums slowly beating out the sounds —