workhouse, with his leg contracted, tottering and scarce able to walk.
He was put into the infirmary. Said the master, “This is a more serious
case than is apparent. We must send for Dr. Budd.” There was then a Dr.
Budd of Exeter.
“Budd! Budd!” shouted the man. “I’ll have no Budds about me. Let me go.
My leg is well.”
One day, at North Tawton, a man doubled up with pain and reeling in his
walk applied at several houses for relief, got some coppers, and came
to the respectable house of evidently a well-to-do man, and rang the
bell.
The servant at once opened and asked what he wanted. He stated his case
and his need of help. “I’ll go and call Dr. Budd,” said the maid.
“Budd here! Budd there! Budd everywhere! I’ll be off!” And, completely
cured, away went the sick man as hard as his legs could carry him.
Whether he became a steady working man, or whether he fled the county
and the region of Budds to malinger elsewhere, was never known, but the
Devon workhouses saw him no more.
Budd was called to see a lady one night after dinner. As soon as he
reached the room, feeling his own condition, he staggered to the foot
of the bed, clung to a bedpost, and exclaimed, “Drunk, by Gad!” and
walked or reeled out of the room. Next morning a letter came from the
lady, with a handsome cheque, and a petition that he would not mention
the condition in which he had found her.
REAR-ADMIRAL SIR EDWARD CHICHESTER, BART.
The Chichesters are an ancient, and in North Devon an all-pervading
family, that has overflowed into South Devon.
The original name was Cirencester, but in the fifteenth century Sir
John de Cirencester married the heiress of Sir John Raleigh, Knight, of
Raleigh near Barnstaple, whereby the estate passed to the Cirencester
family, and the name slid imperceptibly into Chichester, just as
Cirencester in Gloucestershire is now pronounced Cicester.
From Raleigh the Chichesters radiated on all sides, married heiresses,
and settled into snug nests. Of the Hapsburgs it was said “Felix
Austria nube,” and the same with a change of name might be said of the
Chichesters.
There are Chichesters of Youlston, of Hall, Chichesters of Arlington,
of Widworthy; there were Chichesters of Eggesford, who choked up the
little church with their monuments; Chichesters of Calverleigh, and
Chichesters of Grenofen by Tavistock. What is more, the Chichesters
have made their mark in history. Sir Arthur Chichester, Lord Deputy of
Ireland, was created Baron Chichester of Belfast in 1612; his brother,
Sir Edward, had a son who was made first Earl of Donegal; and the
present Marquess of Donegal is a Chichester.
[Illustration: REAR-ADMIRAL SIR EDWARD CHICHESTER, BART.]
Sir John Chichester, sergeant-major of the army in Ireland and Governor
of Carrickfergus, fell into the hands of Sir James MacDonnell, and was
beheaded on a stone in Antrim. Sir Thomas Chichester, his brother, was
granted one thousand acres in Rathdonnell, in Ireland. So Chichesters
crossed the stormy streak and settled down in the Emerald Isle.
It is really remarkable how many Devonshire families did the same in
the reigns of Elizabeth and James I, and families of old county repute
and of acres sent their younger branches thither, where they rooted
themselves and became vigorous; whereas in a good many cases, the
parent stock in Devon decayed and disappeared. It does seem that just
as certain plants need transplantation, to maintain their vigour and to
avoid degeneration, the same should be the law with families.
Sir Edward Chichester, ninth Baronet, the subject of this memoir, was
the second son of Sir Arthur Chichester, whose eldest son, Arthur, died
without issue in 1898.
Youlston, the family seat, is in the parish of Sherwill, about four
miles from Barnstaple. Youlston itself is not beautiful externally. It,
however, has fine ceilings in some of the rooms, and Grinling Gibbons’
carving in the library. It stands in a fine park of one hundred and
fifty acres, on high ground between the two streams of the Bradiford
and the Youlston waters. Youlston at the time of the Domesday inquest
was held by Robert de Beaumont, but a lucky, keen-sighted Chichester
snapped up the heiress of Beaumont and so settled himself into the
property. The old park and the old house were near the little river
that bears the name of Yeo, but these sites have been abandoned and
house and park shifted further to the west.
Born in 1849, Sir Edward began his preparation for service in the
Royal Navy by entering as a cadet when he was thirteen years old. In
January, 1865, he joined the _Victoria_ in the Mediterranean, was
appointed in 1868 to the _Constance_ on the west coast of America, and
in 1869 passed as sub-lieutenant to the _Donegal_ for service in the
_Ocean_ off China. He was gazetted commander, captain, and rear-admiral
respectively in 1882, 1889, and 1902.
He was too candid a man to attempt to conceal his political faith in
any way. A stauncher Conservative it would have been hard to find,
and he followed the political life in North Devon with the keenest
interest, wherever his work took him or however great its pressure. He
took an active part in the political struggles of Barnstaple in the
eighties. Severe contests were fought by the late Sir Robert Carden and
Lord Lymington, now the Earl of Portsmouth. Excitement led enthusiasts
to extremes. The head-quarters of the rival candidates adjoined. After
a public meeting the candidates had a rough time on their way from the
hall to their several hotels. Edward Chichester and his brother one
evening escorted the aged Sir Robert Carden. Stones were thrown and
the little party hustled. A Radical crowd blocked the main entrance to
the Tory candidate’s head-quarters, and threatened to maltreat him. By
great efforts, and after frequent assaults, the two Chichesters got
Sir Robert safely indoors. A moment later and they emerged from the
entrance without their coats and with their sleeves turned up. “Now,”
shouted Edward Chichester, “some of you fellows assailed my brother and
myself; come out and face us like men, if you be such!”
There were groans and cheers; but no man accepted the challenge.
Edward Chichester and his brother did not look inviting, as they stood
in the street with teeth and fists clenched, and “their tails were up.”
After this they escorted Sir Robert Carden many times, but there were
no further molestations.
For a considerable number of years Captain Chichester was on the
unemployed list, eating out his heart in his bungalow at Instow. But
to every man at least once in life comes a chance, and the unlucky and
unsuccessful man is he who, seeing it, does not recognize and grasp the
chance.
It so fell out that the gunboat _Banterer_ was caught in a storm, and
was supposed to have foundered in the Bristol Channel. No tidings had
been heard of her, and the Admiralty and the Duke of Edinburgh, then
in command at Devonport, were greatly alarmed. However, she managed to
run into Bideford estuary, but was there in a deplorable condition, and
threatened to become a total wreck by running on some of the sandbanks
that obstruct the channel. Captain Chichester, who was on the beach
with telescope to his eye, saw the peril, called together at once a
scratch crew, manned a boat, and at great personal risk, for the wind
was on shore and huge rollers were coming in, made his way to the
_Banterer_, and himself piloted her into anchorage at Appledore, and
was able to wire to the Admiralty that she was safe. This got him the
command of the troopship _Himalaya_.
During the operations against the Boers in the Transvaal he was naval
transport officer, till the ignominious surrender by Mr. Gladstone in
1881. Whenever that was mentioned in Sir Edward’s hearing, his colour
would mount in cheek and temple, and he would lower his eyes, feeling
the dishonour done to his country as if it were a personal offence.
In 1881-2 he was lieutenant of the _Thalia_ during the war in Egypt. In
1882 he was promoted for his services and received the Egyptian medal
and the Khedive’s bronze star, and was again employed in the transport
service.
In 1884-5 he was engaged on the same work in Egypt.
In 1887 he was a member of a Committee of Inquiry on British Drift-net
Fisheries, and the following year received the thanks of the Board
of Trade for the judgment and tact he displayed as senior officer
in command of the ships employed in protecting North Sea Fisheries;
while in 1891 he served on a Board of Trade Committee on Fishing
Boats’ Lights. In 1895 he was sent with the _Immortalité_ to the
China station. On inspecting a ship on the China station he was
accompanied by a major of the Royal Marines; the latter had forgotten
his inspection papers, and asked leave to go back to his ship to fetch
them. When he returned he apologized to the captain for the delay and
for having forgotten the papers. “You’ve forgotten something else,”
said Captain Chichester, looking up and down at the Marine officer, who
wore the official spurs; “why, you’ve forgotten the ’oss.” He was there
in 1898 when the Spanish-American war broke out.
When, after destroying the Spanish squadron at Cavite, Commodore
Dewey blockaded Manila, the _Immortalité_ and three other men-of-war
were dispatched thither to protect English interests. Ships of other
nations also assembled there, and amongst these the Germans with such
an assumption of menace, that Commodore Dewey fired a shot across
the bows of the flagship of Admiral Dietrich, commanding the German
squadron. It was well known that the Germans were desirous of putting
a stop to the war, and that the Kaiser had no desire to see the Stars
and Stripes wave over any possession in the Eastern Archipelago. He had
but just before used the expression “_the Mailed Fist_” in reference
to his squadron in the Far East. The Emperor’s royal brother was in
command of one of the German ships. The American fleet was employed in
Manila Bay in keeping the Spanish squadron inside. The Germans were
approaching menacingly, and showed signs of irritation at the prospect
of the Americans taking active and decisive measures with the enemy. It
became necessary for the American admiral to restrict the movements of
the foreign men-of-war in the circumstances. It seemed probable that
Dietrich had received secret instructions to fire on the American fleet
in the event of its bombarding Manila, but only on the condition that
the English remained neutral. Be that as it may, the disposition of the
German squadron drawing in upon that of the American looked suspicious.
But before opening fire the German admiral went to the _Immortalité_ in
a boat to sound the disposition of the English commander.
On meeting in the cabin, Dietrich inquired, “What attitude are you
likely to take up in the event of the Americans bombarding Manila?”
“That,” replied Chichester, “is a matter known only to Dewey and me.”
Dietrich, somewhat disconcerted, paused, and then asked, “Where, sir,
do you intend the English squadron to be, should, unhappily, a conflict
ensue between the American Navy and that of his Imperial Majesty?” “Ask
Dewey,” was the only answer vouchsafed, and the German retired down the
side of the vessel growling in his beard.
Immediately significant orders were issued, and the four British
men-of-war steamed across the line of the German vessels, the
_Immortalité_ leading, and the others following in line, and when
the senior vessel was about two ship-lengths off, the band of
the _Olympia_ played “God Save the Queen,” and the band of the
_Immortalité_ responded with “The Star-spangled Banner.” It was but a
common, everyday act of courtesy, but it was vastly appreciated by the
Americans who witnessed it, and it was a significant hint of “hands
off” to the Germans.
Towards nightfall, when it was evident that the American fleet was
not going into action, the French cruisers _Bayard_ and _Pascal_, and
the German cruisers _Kaiser_ and _Kaiserin Augusta_ returned to their
former anchorage. The American cruisers _Concord_ and _Petrel_ steamed
slowly up the bay in front of the city, and anchored between it and
the foreign warships, but all through the night kept the searchlight
travelling over the water between them.
Next morning Dietrich sent an apology to the Yankee admiral.
The exact details were never officially divulged. The significance of
this dramatic action was that it convinced the world that England was
on the side of the United States, and that, to use the old familiar
phrase, “Blood is thicker than water.” Hitherto, the Americans had been
jealous and suspicious of Great Britain, and believed it possible that
England might have sided with the Germans in the negotiations which it
was understood were then taking place in Europe for the combination
of the Old World forces against the States in favour of Spain. As a
contemporary writer had it: “It was the first signal demonstration
which the Americans received that the sympathies of their kith and
kin were with them, and that the jealousy of no third Power would be
allowed to interfere with the just retribution which they were about
to exact from their enemy. Sir Edward made history that day. He wiped
out the memories of Bunker Hill and New Orleans--so far as they were
bitter memories.” That his conduct was approved at home was shown by
the Government conferring on him the C.M.G. On another occasion, when
in the China seas, Captain Chichester had an opportunity of making
history, and make it he would have had he been supported by the
Government at home. The incident shall be given in his own words:--
“I ran into Port Arthur one morning and anchored alongside a Russian
cruiser. Well, there was the devil of a to-do. The Port Admiral put off
and told me I could not anchor there. I said I was already anchored.
He said I must weigh again and get out. I told him I wouldn’t budge
an inch until it suited me, and in the meantime I must have fresh
provisions and vegetables. Then there was no end to the excitement,
Russian pinnaces and Chinese pinnaces darting all over the harbour. I
went quietly about my business. The Chinese said they would complain
to my Government. I grinned. This went on for some time, and then I
got orders from home--Salisbury was getting old then, and probably a
little weak--to leave Port Arthur and sail for Chefoo. When I reached
Chefoo, the Russians took possession of Port Arthur. Had I remained,
the history of the Far East would have changed for all time.”
With all officers with whom he had been shipmates, as with the men
of the lower deck, the feeling entertained for Sir Edward was one of
real affection. He was a sailor after the sailor’s own heart--bluff,
hearty, and just and generous to a degree, and as fearless as he was
just. In his manner of bearing there was an entire absence of that
characteristic which in the service as in civil life is generally known
as _side_. To his great disappointment he was never engaged in naval
warfare; but there can be no manner of doubt that he would have proved
a brilliant commander in an engagement at sea.
During the South African war in 1899 to 1900, he was again employed as
Transport Officer, this time at Cape Town. It was no light matter to
transport a quarter of a million men over five thousand miles of sea,
and to land them at the Cape without a hitch. It was no fault of his
that the troops were dumped down in chaotic groups and in unsanitary
spots. All he had to do was to convey these men who were sent to him
from England to Africa.
As the _Morning Chronicle_ said:--
“During the South African war, Sir Edward Chichester, as Chief Naval
Transport Officer, superintended the disembarkation of the troops,
horses, guns, and provisions, which the country poured into the
subcontinent. The smoothness and the skill and the absence of casualty
with which that difficult work was carried through, won for the gallant
officer universal approbation.”
Chichester was a man of blunt speech, and most of the stories told of
him illustrate this roughness. Sir Edward ordered, on one occasion, the
captain of one of the transports lying in Cape Town docks to move his
ship out, in order to make room for another. The captain did not want
to go, and raised difficulties. “He had not his steam up--could not
possibly change quarters that night.” Sir Edward remarked, “Give him an
hour, and if he is not out by then, we will shift him.”
The hour elapsed without a move being made. Then, at a signal, two
Government tugs shot out, ran alongside, and in twenty minutes the
steamer was had out and anchored in the bay.
Into his room at Cape Town one day burst a Volunteer colonel, swelling
with importance. “Who are you, sir?” asked Sir Edward.
“I am Colonel Blank,” was the reply, given with much pomposity.
“Oh, indeed, is that all?” said Sir Edward. “I thought at least you
were an admiral.”
He was busy writing in his office on the quay on another occasion, and
took no notice of a ponderous person waiting impatiently.
“Will you please to attend to me?” the man asked at length.
Sir Edward looked up and inquired, “Have you bought these docks, sir?”
“Most certainly not. I do not know what you mean.”
“Then go to the devil,” Sir Edward remarked, going on with his writing.
Then, summoning his clerk, he said: “Here! stick up on my door the
notice in big letters, ‘Office of the Chief Transport Officer, and _not
a general inquiry office_.’” But he had also inscribed on his office
door, “Walk right in; no Red Tape here.”
On one occasion the captain of a big Union-Castle liner came in to
make a report. Chichester had a great objection to the uniforms worn
by the officers of these ships, because he thought they were modelled
too closely on the lines of the naval uniforms. Seeing this gorgeously
clad individual in his office he stood up, and gravely saluting him
remarked:--
“I am sorry, _Admiral_, that the Government have thought it necessary
to send you out to supersede me in my duties. I hoped that I was giving
satisfaction, but----”
“There is some mistake, Sir Edward,” was the reply. “I am Captain----,
of the _---- Castle_.”
“Oh! Then why the devil do you deck yourself up in that rig?” roared
out the Chief Transport Officer. “If that is all you are, you can wait
till I’ve finished my letter.”
Bored on another occasion by some officer over a trumpery affair, he
burst out, “Look here, sir! you are sent out to South Africa to kill
Boers, and not to kill time. Anyhow, you shall not kill mine.”
Mr. Douglas Story tells the following: An anæmic officer came to Sir
Edward one day during the Boer war, and demanded attention.
“H’m, what do you want?” growled the Chief Naval Transport Officer.
“Food, sir, for my men.”
“Well, haven’t they got any? What are they living on?”
“Biscuits, sir; beastly dry biscuits.”
“Can’t they live on biscuits? The Navy men manage to subsist on them.”
“They are used to ’em; our Tommies are not. Theirs is a better stomach
for biscuits than that of the men in the army.”
“Aye, and they have a d---- d better stomach for fighting, too!” roared
the Captain, and resumed his work.
When the Devon Volunteers landed in South Africa, Sir Edward saw to
their disembarkation, and also saw them leave for the front. One of the
Barnstaple men relates that as they moved away Sir Edward put his hands
to his mouth, funnel-wise, and shouted: “Mind, you Devon chaps, give
the Boers a d---- d good hiding.”
During the war Sir Edward stayed in one of the smallest hotels in Cape
Town, near the docks, as more convenient to his work than one that
was larger and up town. But the food provided there was execrable.
Sir Edward, unable to stomach this, one day provided himself with a
gigantic cheese that he had purchased, and entered the coffee-room
carrying it, and thereon he made his lunch.
At the same time there was staying in the hotel a Dutchman whom
every one looked upon as a spy. In the evening Sir Edward was late
for dinner, and the Hollander early. Imagine, therefore, the gallant
captain’s disgust when on entering the room he found the Dutchman
tucking into his cheese. He paused in the doorway, stared, and then
thundered out: “I say, waiter, look there! I’m d---- d if that Boer spy
isn’t eating my cheese! By heavens, it’s a bullet or two he should have
inside him and not my cheese!”
Every one but the Dutchman burst into a roar of laughter.
He was made C.B. in October, 1900, and was naval A.D.C. to Queen
Victoria, and afterwards to the King, from 1899 to 1904. On his return
from South Africa he took command of the fleet reserve at Devonport. He
was promoted to Rear-Admiral in January, 1902, and on June 10th, 1904,
was appointed Admiral-Superintendent, with charge of His Majesty’s
naval establishments at Gibraltar. He had married the daughter of the
late Commander R. C. Whyte, /R.N./, of Instow, in 1880, and by
her had four sons and six daughters.
He returned to England hale and cheerful in 1900. On arriving in North
Devon he was welcomed by his tenantry with great rejoicings, and was
presented with an illuminated address, which was read in the presence
of a large assembly of local notabilities by his brother, the rector
of Sherwill. His first words in reply were, “You said that very well,
Pass’n Charles.”
He went back to his duties at Gibraltar, where he died on September
17th, 1906. The body was brought to Plymouth in the _Formidable_, and
thence conveyed by train to North Devon, and the obsequies took place
at Sherwill. Sir Edward had seldom resided at Youlston when in England,
but at his bungalow, Instow.
“Outside his own country and navy,” said the Paris edition of the
_New York Herald_, “the untimely death of Rear-Admiral Chichester,
/R.N./, cannot be more regretted than by the American people
and its naval service. During the critical period succeeding the
capture of Manila, this British officer proved himself a steadfast
supporter of our rights in those waters. While scrupulously observing
the obligations imposed on him as a neutral, his official and personal
conduct strengthened the hands of Admiral Dewey, harassed as he was by
the inexplicable and annoying performances of the German admiral on
that station. The prompt and graceful action of Rear-Admiral Brownson
on his arrival off Gibraltar, with the American armoured cruiser
division, in furnishing an escort for the funeral of this distinguished
officer, will therefore be earnestly approved by our Government and
people. It was both a recognition of the personal esteem in which
Rear-Admiral Chichester was held, and a fitting official testimony to
the services rendered by him when our friends were few and far between.”
The _Morning Chronicle_ said: “Admiral Sir Edward Chichester was a
splendid specimen of the British naval officer. In physique, in his
bluff heartiness of manner, in his racy conversation, in the very roll
of his walk, he was every inch a sailor. Wherever he went he carried
with him the savour of the sea. A thorough West-countryman--a man ‘of
Bideford in Devon’--he preserved the traditions of the old Elizabethan
sailors, and seemed indeed to be in the lineal succession to Grenville
and Hawkins, to Drake and Raleigh.”
Equally sympathetic was a notice in the _Standard_:--
“In Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Chichester there has passed away a sailor
after Lord St. Vincent’s own heart. We had said after Nelson’s, but
Nelson had no hand in the administrative work of the Navy, in which
Sir Edward took so great, if subordinate, a share. He belonged to a
class which will probably become more and more rare in the Navy--the
type of blunt sailor who is a sailor first, second and last, but who,
just because he is all a sailor, is also an inimitable diplomatist,
prompt and resolute, seeking no quarrel, but fearing no responsibility.
We do not for a moment imply that these qualities are not to be found
in abundance in the new Navy; but the naval officer of to-day has the
habits and manners of the world in a degree to which a sailor of the
school of Sir Edward Chichester did not attain.”
At a dinner given in honour of Sir Redvers Buller in Exeter, in
November, 1900, the late Lord Clinton, in the course of a speech on
that occasion, said:--