Fifty-One Years of Victorian Life Part 16

A Canon Cazenove who was in our ship officiated on Easter Sunday. The British Government having ceased to subsidise a chaplain for the Consular Church, there was only service when a travelling clergyman could be annexed, but the congregation rolled up joyfully at short notice. While we were in church we heard cannon discharged outside in honour of the Sultan's birthday, and the impression was somewhat strange--an English service in the precincts of one of the Seven Churches of the Revelation, a congregation partly of travelling, partly of orientalised British, and without the echoes of Mohammedan rule. Poor Smyrna! still the battleground of warring races.

We resumed our voyage and I was thrilled when we pa.s.sed Tenedos, touching at Besika Bay and seeing in the distance the Plains of Troy. We entered the Dardanelles in rain and mist, and I think it was fortunate that we got through safely, as our Austrian captain, though a mild lover of little birds, was also credited with an affection for drink. A fine morning followed the wet evening; Sir Edgar Vincent sent a boat from the Bank to meet us, and received us most hospitably in his charming house. During a delightful week at Constantinople we saw all the "lions" of that wonderful city, under his auspices.

Despite its unrivalled position and the skill and wealth lavished upon it by Christendom and Islam, I do not think that Constantinople takes the same hold upon one's affection as Athens or Rome. Many of the buildings seem to have been "run up" for the glory of some ruler rather than grown up out of the deep-rooted religion or patriotism of a race. St. Sophia is glorious with its cupola and its varied marble columns, but greatly spoilt by the flaunting green shields with the names of the companions of the Prophet; and the whole effect is distorted because the prayer carpets covering the pavement have to slant towards the Kebla, the niche or tablet indicating the direction of Mecca; whereas the Mosque, having been built as a Christian church, was destined to look towards Jerusalem--at least it was built so that the congregation should turn to the East.

There was, however, one beautiful object which we were delighted to have seen while it retained a brilliance which it has since lost. There were in a new building in process of erection opposite the Museum four tombs which had lately been discovered near Sidon and brought to Constantinople by Hampdi Bey, Director of the School of Art. All were fine, but the finest was that dignified by the name of Alexander's Tomb. The attribution was doubtful, but not the beauty. They had been covered up while the building was in progress, but were just uncovered and we were allowed to see them.

The unrivalled reliefs on "Alexander's Tomb" represented Greeks and Persians first as fighting, and then as having made friends. The two nations were easily distinguished, as the Greeks had hardly any garments, while the Persians were fully clothed. The tombs having long been buried in the sand, the vivid colours, and particularly the purple worn by the Persians, had been perfectly preserved, but I understand that, exposed to the light, all soon faded away.

[Sidenote: CONSTANTINOPLE]

The streets of Constantinople were not nearly so gay as those of Cairo or of many other Eastern towns which I have seen. Things may have altered now, but during our visit hardly any women walked about the city, and the men were mostly dressed in dark European clothes with red fezes, not at all picturesque. At the Sweet Waters, a stream in a valley rather like Richmond, where we drove on Friday afternoon, it was different. The ladies celebrated their Sabbath by driving in shut carriages, or walking about near the water, in gay-coloured mantles, often with parasols to match, and with transparent veils which did not at all conceal their very evident charms.

Sir William White was then Amba.s.sador, and he and his wife were very kind to us. Among other things Lady White invited us to join a party going over to Kadikeui on the Scutari side of the Bosphorus. It was a quaint expedition. The Emba.s.sy launch and the French launch each carried guests.

The French launch, "mouche" as they called it, started first, but the sea was rapidly rising, and the few minutes which elapsed before we followed meant that the waves were almost dangerous. It was impossible, however, that the British should show the white feather when France led the way.

Lady Galloway and I sat silent, one or two foreign ladies, Belgians, I think, screamed and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed; the Swedish Minister sat on the prow like a hardy Norseman and encouraged the rest of us, but the Persian Minister wept hot tears, while Lady White stood over him and tried to console him with a lace-trimmed handkerchief and a bottle of eau de Cologne.

Having landed as best we could, Sir Edgar Vincent, Lady Galloway and I drove to Scutari, where we saw the howling dervishes. There was a band of little children who were to lie on the floor for the chief, and specially holy, dervish to walk upon at the conclusion of the howling ceremony. The building where this took place was so hot and crowded that I soon went outside to wait for my companions. Immediately a number of dishevelled inhabitants began to gather round me, but I dispersed them with my one word of Turkish p.r.o.nounced in a loud and indignant tone. I do not know how it is spelt, but it is p.r.o.nounced "Haiti" and means "go away." I make it a point in any fresh country to learn if possible the equivalent for the words "hot water" and "go away." I suppose as we were not in an hotel I found the Turkish for "hot water" unnecessary, but "go away" is always useful.

Among the people we met in Constantinople was a venerable Pasha called Ahmed Vefyk, who used to govern Brusa and part of Asia Minor, and was noted for his honest energy, and for doing what he thought right irrespective of the Sultan. He talked English well, and his reminiscences were amusing. He told us that fifty-five years previously he had taken thirty-nine days to travel from Paris to Constantinople and then everyone came to see him as a curiosity. He introduced us to his fat wife and to a daughter, and offered to make all arrangements for us if we would visit his former Government.

[Sidenote: THE SELAMLIK]

Alas! time did not admit, neither could we wait to dine with the Sultan, though we received messages desiring that we should do so. We were told, however, that the Sultan always wished to retain known visitors in Constantinople, and to effect this would ask them to dine and then keep postponing the date so as to delay their departure. We could not chance this, so were obliged to leave without having seen more of His Majesty than his arrival at the ceremony of the Selamlik--a very pretty sight, but one which has often been described. We were at a window just opposite the Mosque and were edified, among other incidents, by the way in which the ladies of the harem had to perform their devotions. They were driven up in closed carriages, their horses (not themselves) were taken out, and they remained seated in the vehicles for the duration of the service, which lasted about three-quarters of an hour. Imagine Miss Maud Royden left in a taxi outside a church while the ministers officiated within! The Sultan was driven up with brown horses, and drove himself away in another carriage with white ones. I do not know if this had any symbolic significance.

[Sidenote: THE ORIENT EXPRESS]

We left Constantinople by the Orient Express on the evening of April 14th, and had quite an exciting journey to Vienna, which we reached on the afternoon of the 16th. Sir Edgar Vincent accompanied us, and there was also on the train Captain Waller, a Queen's Messenger, and these were each bound to have a separate sleeping compartment. There were various pa.s.sengers of different nationalities, including our maids.

A compartment with four berths had been reserved for Lady Galloway and myself--but when the maids looked in to arrange it they came back in alarm, announcing that our Damascus foewoman of the revolver and the cigar had installed herself in our compartment and refused to move! Of course Sir Edgar, being Governor of the Imperial Ottoman Bank, was all-powerful and the lady had to give way--but there was another sufferer. Later on a Greek who shared a compartment with a German wanted to fight him; they had to be forcibly separated and the Greek shut up for Tuesday night in the saloon while the German was left in possession--which further reduced the accommodation. When we stopped at Budapest, about midnight, the sister of the Queen of Servia was escorted into the train with flowers and courtesy, but the poor woman had to spend the night in the pa.s.sage, as the alternatives were sharing the compartment of the revolver woman, who, we were told in the morning, terrified her by barking like a dog, or going into the saloon with the Greek, equally uncomfortable.

These were not all the excitements. Previously, at Sofia, Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria got into the train accompanied by an imposing-looking man who we thought was Stambuloff, the Prime Minister afterwards a.s.sa.s.sinated. It appeared that Prince Ferdinand's pastime was to join the train in this way, have his _dejeuner_ on board, get out at the frontier, and return to his capital by the next train. It seemed a curious mode of enjoyment, but probably Bulgaria was less lively than it has become since. We heard afterwards that he was annoyed because Sir Edgar and ourselves had not been presented to him, but he might have given a hint had he wished it.

Anyhow, we presently saw some apricot omelettes walking about and asked for some, but were told that this was a _dejeuner commande_ and we could not share it, to which deprivation we resigned ourselves. When the repast was over, however, an American solemnly addressed Sir Edgar saying, "Did you, who were near the royal circle, have any of that asparagus?" (I think it was asparagus--may have been French beans.) "No," replied Sir Edgar.

"Very well then," said the Yankee; "since you had none I will not protest, but we were refused it, and if you had had any I should certainly have made a row." It was lucky that we had not shared any of the Princely fare, for there was hardly s.p.a.ce for more rows on that train.

At Vienna Lady Galloway and I parted. She went to her relatives at Berlin, and I returned via Cologne and Flushing to England, where I was very glad to rejoin my family after these long wanderings.

We had some very happy parties at Osterley during the succeeding summer. I have already mentioned Mr. Henry James's description of the place. Our great friend Sir Herbert Maxwell, in his novel _Sir Lucian Elphin_, also adopted it under another name as the background of one of his scenes, and I have quoted Mr. Ashley's verses written in 1887. I love the place and its memories so dearly that I cannot resist adding the testimony of another friend, Mr. Augustus Hare. He knew it well both in the days of the d.u.c.h.ess of Cleveland and after we had taken up our abode there, and mentions it several times in _The Story of my Life_, but he tells, in an account of a visit to us including the Bank Holiday of August 1890, of our last party before we went to Australia. From that I extract a few lines, omitting the over-kindly portraits of ourselves which he was apt to draw of his friends:

"I went to Osterley, which looked bewitching, with its swans floating in sunshine beyond the shade of the old cedars. Those radiant gardens will now bloom through five years unseen, for Lord Jersey has accepted the Governorship of New South Wales, which can only be from a sense of duty, as it is an immense self-sacrifice.

"The weather was really hot enough for the luxury of open windows everywhere and for sitting out all day. The party was a most pleasant one. M. de Stael, the Russian Amba.s.sador; Lady Crawford, still lovely as daylight, and her nice daughter Lady Evelyn; Lady Galloway, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with cleverness; M. de Montholon, French Minister at Athens; Mr. and Mrs. Frank Parker, most amusing and cheery; Sir Philip Currie, General Feilding, etc. Everything was most unostentatiously sumptuous and most enjoyable. On Monday we were sent in three carriages to Richmond, where we saw Sir Francis Cook's collection, very curious and worth seeing as it is, but which, if his pictures deserved the names they bear, would be one of the finest collections in the world. Then after a luxurious luncheon at the Star and Garter we went on to Ham House, where Lady Huntingtower showed the curiosities, including all the old dresses kept in a chest in the long gallery. Finally I told the Jersey children--splendid audience--a long story in a glade of the Osterley garden, where the scene might have recalled the _Decameron_.

I was very sorry to leave these kind friends, and to know it would be so long before I saw them again."

[Ill.u.s.tration: OSTERLEY PARK. _From a photograph by W. H. Grove._]

[Sidenote: STORY OF A PICTURE]

Sir Francis Cook--Viscount Monserrate in Portugal--had a wonderful collection both of pictures and _objets d'art_ which he was always ready to show to our friends and ourselves. I am not expert enough to know whether all the names attributed to the pictures could be verified, but I can answer for one which we saw on an occasion when we took Lord Rowton over with some others. It was a large circular painting of the Adoration of the Magi by Filippo Lippi. Lord Rowton expressed the greatest interest in seeing it, as he said that Lord Beaconsfield and himself had hesitated greatly whether to utilise the money received for _Endymion_ to purchase this beautiful picture, which was then in the market, or to buy the house in Curzon Street. I should think the decision to buy the house was a wise one under the circ.u.mstances, but the picture is a magnificent one. I saw it not long ago at an exhibition of the Burlington Fine Arts Club lent by the son--or grandson--of Sir Francis Cook.

CHAPTER XI

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF AUSTRALIA

Mr. Hare's account of our August Party in 1890 mentions the reason of its being the last for some time. My husband had been already offered the Governorship of Bombay and would have liked it for many reasons, but was obliged to decline as the climate might have been injurious after an attack of typhoid fever from which he had not long recovered. He was then appointed Paymaster-General, an unpaid office which he held for about a year. The princ.i.p.al incident which I recollect in this connection was a lengthened dispute between his Department and the Treasury over a sum of either two pounds or two shillings--I think the latter--which had gone wrong in an expenditure of thirty-five millions. In the end Jersey came to me and triumphantly announced that the Paymaster-General's Department had been proved to be in the right. How much paper, ink, and Secretary's time had gone to this conclusion I cannot say. Postage being "On Her Majesty's Service" would not come into the reckoning.

[Sidenote: WAR OFFICE RED TAPE]

We had one other experience of pre-war War Office methods, but that was many years later. A rumour arrived in Middleton village that the soldier son of one of our labourers had had his head blown off. As there was no war proceeding at the time, we could not think how this accident had happened, and went to ask the parents where their son was stationed. They had no clear idea, but after a long talk remembered that they had received a photograph of his regiment with the Pyramids in the background.

Armed with this information we approached the War Office and ultimately elicited that the poor youth had not lost his head, but had died of fever in Egypt, when arose the question of certain pay due to him. The War Office, with an insatiable thirst for information, would pay nothing until elaborate forms were filled up with the names and addresses of all the brothers and sisters. These proved to be scattered over the face of the Empire, and as the parents could neither read nor write, endless visits to them were necessary before we could find out enough to fill in the forms.

Before this was accomplished I had to leave home and one of my daughters took charge.

At last she wrote that the money was really being paid to the old father and would be deposited in the Post Office. Knowing that he was very shaky, I wrote back begging that she would get him to sign a paper naming his heir, but before this was done he suddenly fell down dead, leaving the money in the Post Office, and my daughter corresponded on alternate days with the General Post Office and the War Office before she could get it out. Then some more money was found to be due, and the War Office said they could not pay it until they had certificates from the s.e.xton and the undertaker who had buried the poor old man. I was back by the time these were procured, and lo and behold! one spelt his name Hitchc.o.x and one Hitchc.o.c.ks. Foreseeing another lengthened correspondence, I enclosed the form with a letter in Jersey's name vouching for the fact that they referred to the same person but that the villagers spelt the name in two different ways. Fortunately the War Office felt that they were now sufficiently acquainted with the family biography and paid up. No wonder a plethora of clerks was needed even in pre-war days.

To return to our own affairs. The late Lord Knutsford, then Colonial Secretary, in the summer of 1890 asked my husband if he would accept the Governorship of New South Wales, and he consented. Great stress was laid on our not telling anyone before the Queen had approved, and we were most conscientious, though I do not believe that other people keep such offers equally secret from all their friends and relatives. It was rather inconvenient as we wanted to invite my brother Rupert to accompany us as A.D.C. and he was already committed to another appointment abroad. As soon as the telegram announcing the Queen's approval arrived, I sent a footman to look for him at two or three addresses saying that he must find Captain Leigh somehow. He brought him back in triumph, having caught him in the street. Lord Ancram and my cousin Harry Cholmondeley were the other A.D.C.s, and George Goschen, now Lord Goschen, Private Secretary.

[Sidenote: BALMORAL]

Just before we were due to start, the Queen sent for us to Balmoral to say good-bye. We there met amongst others the Duke of Clarence, the only time I ever saw him, and I thought him a singularly gentle, modest young man.

Some old gentleman had lately left him a long gold and turquoise chain which had belonged to Marie Antoinette. He told the Queen about it, and, with genuine surprise, said he could not think why it had been left to him. Her Majesty expressed the greatest interest in anything which had belonged to Marie Antoinette, so he ran upstairs and brought it down for his grandmother's inspection. He talked of his voyage to Australia, and said he was sorry that he had been too young to appreciate all he had seen as he should have done. I remember the late Admiral Lord Clanwilliam, who had the supervision of the young Princes when they were on board the _Bacchante_, saying that no boys had ever given him less trouble, and that Prince George (the present King) was equal to boys a year older than himself.

When we went to Australia Lord Hopetoun was already there as Governor of Victoria, and Lord Kintore as Governor of South Australia, while Lord Onslow reigned in New Zealand. These, like Jersey, had all previously been Lords-in-Waiting to the Queen, and Her Majesty said to us, "As soon as I get a nice Lord-in-Waiting Lord Salisbury sends him off to govern a Colony"; to which my husband aptly replied, "You see, Ma'am, how well you brought us up!" A remark rewarded by a gracious smile.

The Queen was indeed more than kind, and was very much upset when our departure was delayed, just when all preparations were made, by my being seized with an attack of typhoid fever. She telegraphed constantly, and when the Court returned to Windsor sent a messenger daily to inquire. We were told that her kind heart led her to imagine that my illness was either caused or intensified by our having been summoned to Balmoral just at the last minute, because she had forgotten that we were starting so soon. Of course it had nothing to do with it, but the Queen was well aware what typhoid fever meant. As she wrote to Jersey, she was "but too well acquainted with this terrible illness not to feel anxious whenever any relations or friends are suffering from it."

The result was that when I was convalescent Jersey had to start alone, and I went with my children to spend Christmas at Stoneleigh, following him in January. Lady Galloway was a true friend, for since our London house was let she took me from Claridge's Hotel, where I was taken ill, to her house in Upper Grosvenor Street and nursed me there for weeks.

Everyone was kind, Lady Northcote offering that I should take possession of her house and have Lady Galloway there to look after me, but in the end I stayed in Upper Grosvenor Street till I could move to Stoneleigh.

Christmas at Stoneleigh was an unexpected pleasure, and my parents, brothers, and sisters did all they could to further my convalescence. An addition to the family party was my brother Dudley's charming new American wife, of whom he was intensely proud. When we greeted them or drank their healths, however, in the course of the festivities he invariably prefaced his words of thanks with "I and my wife" despite the laughing protests of his auditors. On Twelfth Night we drew characters, with the result--perhaps not quite fortuitous--that my eldest girl Margaret and her youngest brother Arthur, aged seven, were Queen and King. Their healths were duly drunk, and Arthur eagerly and emphatically responded, beginning "My wife and I!"

Mrs. Dudley Leigh had been in her girlhood much admired in the Court of Napoleon III and the Empress Eugenie. She was greatly attached to the Empress and was one of the young ladies recorded in Filon's _Memoirs_ as having helped to cheer the deposed monarchs in the first part of their exile when they resided at Cowes.

Helene Leigh (then Beckwith) told me that she and her sister often went to spend an evening with the Empress, who, as is well known, had a leaning towards spiritualism and table-turning. The Emperor disliked the experiments, and on one occasion begged them to stop. Presently he went to bed and then Eugenie determined to resume. The table moved, and rapped out "Janvier." The Empress asked what the date implied, and the answer came "La Mort." In the following January the Emperor died. Personally none of these coincidences convince me, as I have known automatic and other prophecies which did not "come off." The Emperor was very ill and his death must have seemed imminent to many present, but I allow that it is curious that the date as remembered by my sister-in-law should have proved accurate.

[Sidenote: FAREWELL TO ENGLAND]

At last I was considered well enough to start, and went off accompanied by four children, two governesses and three servants, the rest of the household having preceded us. We had a bitterly cold journey, and Lady Galloway, who joined us in London and went with us across France and Italy, had her work cut out to keep us warm and fed. She then went to stay with some of her friends, having promised to visit us later in Australia.

It was very sad leaving all my family, and particularly my eldest boy Villiers. He had to finish his time at Eton and was then to come to us before going to Oxford. Everyone who has to leave children behind--and, alas! that is the lot of only too many English parents--knows what it means, and I will not dwell upon it.

All our friends were most sympathetic and helpful, and I was particularly touched by Lord Derby's thoughtfulness. In his first letter on hearing of the appointment he wrote: "You are a queen and an exile. Are you to be congratulated or condoled with?..." He went on with serious words of encouragement, and a little later took the trouble voluntarily to write out for our use notes on Australia "founded on the reports of many friends and on some experience of C. O."

Among his very shrewd remarks was: