[Extracts from a book which is, no doubt, having as large a sale
in Germany as _What I Found Out_, by an English Governess, is
having in this country.]
I shall never forget my arrival at the house of my new employers. Into
the circumstances which forced me to earn my living as a governess in a
strange country I need not now go. Sufficient that I had obtained a
situation in the house of a Mr. Brigsworth, an Englishman of high
position living in one of the most fashionable suburbs of London. "Chez
Nous," The Grove, Cricklewood, was the address of my new home, and
thither on that memorable afternoon I wended my way.
"The master and mistress are out," said the maid. "Perhaps you would
like to go straight to the nursery and see the children?"
"Thank you," I said, and followed her upstairs. Little did I imagine the
amazing scene which was to follow!
In the nursery my two little charges were playing with soldiers; a tall
and apparently young man was lying on the floor beside them. At my
entrance he scrambled to his feet.
"Stop the battle a moment," he said, "while we interrogate the invader."
"I am Fräulein Schmidt," I introduced myself, "the new governess."
"And I," he said with a bow, "am Lord Kitchener. You have arrived just
in time. Another five minutes and I should have wiped out the German
army."
"Oh shut up, Uncle Horace, you wouldn't," shouted one of the boys.
It was Lord Kitchener! He had shaved off his heavy moustache, and by so
doing had given himself a deceptive appearance of youth, but there could
be no doubt about his identity. Horatio Herbert Kitchener, the great
English War Lord! In the light of after-events, how instructive was this
first meeting!
"What is the game?" I asked, hiding my feelings under a smile. "England
against Germany?"
"England and Scotland and Ireland and Australia and a few others. We
have ransacked the nursery and raked them all in."
So even at this time England had conceived the perfidious idea of
forcing her colonies to fight for her!
"And some Indian soldiers?" I asked, nodding at half-a-dozen splendid
Bengal Lancers. It struck me even then as very significant; and it is
now seen to be proof that for years previously England had been plotting
an invasion of the Fatherland with a swarm of black mercenaries.
Lord Kitchener evidently saw what was in my mind, and immediately
exerted all his well-known charm to efface the impression he had
created.
"You mustn't think," he said with a smile, "that the policy of the
Cabinet is in any way affected by what goes on at 'Chez Nous.' Although
Sir Edward Grey and I----"
He broke off suddenly, and, in the light of what has happened since,
very suspiciously.
"Have you had any tea?" he asked. His relations with the notorious Grey
were evidently not to be disclosed.
* * *
I met Lord Kitchener on one other occasion, but it is only since England
forced this war upon Europe that I have seen that second meeting in its
proper light.
I had been out shopping, and when I came back I found him in the garden
playing with the children. We talked for a little on unimportant
matters, and then I saw his eye wandering from me to the drawing-room. A
soldier had just stepped through the open windows on to the lawn.
"Hallo," said Lord Kitchener, "it's Johnny."
As the latter came up Lord Kitchener smacked him warmly on the back.
"Well," he said, "my martial friend, how many Germans have you killed?"
Then seeing that his friend appeared a little awkward he introduced him
to me. "Fräulein Schmidt, this is one of our most famous warriors--Sir
John French."
I could see that Sir John French was taken aback. He had evidently come
down to discuss secretly the plan of campaign against a defenceless and
utterly surprised Germany, which their friend and tool, Sir Edward Grey,
was to put in motion--and forthwith a German governess had been let into
the secret! No wonder he was annoyed! "You silly ass," he muttered, and
became very red and confused.
Lord Kitchener, however, only laughed.
"It's all right," he said; "Fräulein Schmidt is Scotch. You can talk
quite freely in front of her."
It was the typical British attitude of contempt for the possible enemy.
But General French showed all that stubborn caution which was afterwards
to mark his handling of the British mercenaries, and which is about to
cost him so dearly.
"Don't be a fool, Horace," he mumbled, and relapsed into an impenetrable
silence.
* * *
Mr. Brigsworth's mother, who lived with them, was a most interesting old
lady. She seemed to be in the secrets of all the Royal Family and other
highly placed personages, and told me many interesting things about
them. "Ah, my dear," she would say, "they tell us in the papers that
King George is shooting at Windsor, but----" and then she would nod her
head mysteriously. "He's a _working_ king," she went on after a little.
"He doesn't waste his time on _sport_." In the light of after-events it
is probable that she was right; and that when His Majesty George the
Fifth was supposed to be at Windsor he was in reality in Belgium,
looking out for sites for the notorious British siege-guns which have
murdered so many of our brave soldiers.
In this connection I must relate one extraordinary incident. Young Mrs.
Brigsworth had an album of celebrated people in the British political
and social world. She was herself distantly connected, she told me,
through her mother's people, with several well-known Society families,
and it interested her to collect these photographs and paste them into a
book. One day she was showing me her album, and I noticed that, on
coming to a certain page, she turned hurriedly over, and began
explaining a group on the next page very volubly.
"What was that last one?" I asked. "Wasn't it Mr. Winston Churchill?"
"Oh, that was nothing," she said quickly. "I didn't know I had that one;
I must throw it away."
However, she had not been quick enough. I had seen the photograph; and
events which have happened since have made it one of extraordinary
significance.
It was a photograph of the First Lord of the Admiralty at Ostend in
bathing costume!
As soon as I was left alone I turned to the photograph. "The First Lord
amuses himself on his holiday" were the words beneath it. "Amuses
himself!" Can there be any doubt in the mind of an impartial German that
even then England had decided to violate the neutrality of Belgium, and
that Mr. Churchill was, when photographed, examining the possibilities
of Ostend as a base for submarines?
No wonder Mrs. Brigsworth had hurriedly turned over the page!