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[Illustration: July 30, 1827, ÆT. 31.
MY GRANDMOTHER]
LOOKING BACK
BY
CAPTAIN THE HON.
SIR SEYMOUR FORTESCUE, K.C.V.O., C.M.G.
(ROYAL NAVY)
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_
LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
FOURTH AVENUE & 30TH STREET, NEW YORK
BOMBAY, CALCUTTA, AND MADRAS
1920
DEDICATION
TO
HER MAJESTY QUEEN ALEXANDRA
MADAM,
Your Majesty in so readily consenting to accept the dedication
of this humble volume, has only added one more to the long
list of gracious favours, that I have constantly received at
the hands of Your Majesty, ever since the day on which I was
fortunate enough to commence my service, as Equerry-in-Waiting
to the late King Edward.
The portion of this book that deals with that period, relates
something of the manifold activities of that monarch, and, as
regards myself, is the time of my life to which I look back
with the greatest pleasure, both on account of the honour it
was personally to serve so illustrious a Sovereign, and also
because of the great and unvarying kindness that was extended
to me by my beloved Master and the members of his family.
It has been a labour of love to write of those days, and has
given me an opportunity of expressing, however inadequately,
some of the gratitude that I feel towards those, who made the
years that I spent in His Majesty's household, the happiest of
my life.
I have the honour to remain, Madam,
Always your Majesty's devoted servant,
SEYMOUR FORTESCUE.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. EARLY DAYS 1
II. GUNROOM LIFE IN THE 'SEVENTIES 16
III. THE DARDANELLES IN 1878 75
IV. EGYPT IN 1882 91
V. FROM GALATZ TO SOUAKIM VIA LONDON 118
VI. THE CHANNEL FLEET AND MEDITERRANEAN STATION 144
VII. THE ROYAL YACHT 173
VIII. EQUERRY TO THE PRINCE OF WALES 200
IX. ON THE HEADQUARTER STAFF IN SOUTH AFRICA 228
X. SOME SCOTTISH HOUSES 250
XI. KING EDWARD'S FOREIGN TOUR 264
XII. MARIENBAD AND OTHER HEALTH RESORTS 289
XIII. SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF AN EQUERRY 305
XIV. MORE RECOLLECTIONS OF AN EQUERRY 319
XV. A VISIT TO THE NITRATE FIELDS 333
XVI. 1910 354
AFTERWORD 379
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
_To face page_
MY GRANDMOTHER _Frontispiece_
THE KEEP OF TATTERSALL CASTLE 4
(_From Photograph by F. Frith & Co., Ltd._)
THE HON. MRS. DAWSON DAMER 6
(_From the Miniature by Isabey._)
H.M.S. "ARIADNE" AT NAPLES, 1871 30
SEYMOUR FORTESCUE, 1893 75
(_From Photograph by A. Debenham, Cowes._)
GROUP ON BOARD H.M.S. "SURPRISE" 152
GROUP ON BOARD H.M.S. "SURPRISE" AT VENICE, 1887 167
ON BOARD THE ROYAL YACHT "VICTORIA AND ALBERT" 196
(_From Photograph by A. Debenham, Cowes._)
"BRITANNIA" RACING AT COWES 200
(_From Photograph by W. U. Kirk & Son, Cowes._)
SEYMOUR FORTESCUE AS MORONI'S LAWYER, DEVONSHIRE
HOUSE FANCY BALL, 1897 226
(_From Photograph by Frederick Hollyer._)
A SHOOTING PARTY AT MARIENBAD 294
KING EDWARD, WITH EQUERRIES IN ATTENDANCE, ON THE
PROMENADE AT MARIENBAD 305
ON BOARD H.M. YACHT "VICTORIA AND ALBERT," 1909 354
(_From Photograph by A. Debenham, Cowes._)
CHANCEL OF SANDRINGHAM CHURCH, DECORATED IN
MEMORY OF H.M. KING EDWARD VII 378
ON BOARD THE FLAGSHIP OF THE HOME FLEET, 1910 380
LOOKING BACK
CHAPTER I
EARLY DAYS
The principal excuse for this attempt to bring the reminiscences of a
very unimportant member of the community to the notice of the public is
that, owing to the series of accidents which make up what is commonly
called life, I can claim to have had rather exceptional opportunities
as a spectator from a great many points of view. Commencing my career
as I did on board a man-of-war, I have since lived at Court, in
Society, in Clubs, both Bohemian and Social, and during the seventeen
years that I was on the personal staff of the late King Edward VII, I
was necessarily brought into contact with a great number of persons
of all sorts and all nations, to say nothing of seeing something of
the daily work of a great monarch. As an example of the many points of
view, taking a few of the more salient ones, with complete disregard
for dates, I may instance that it has been my good fortune to witness
the work of the British Army in the Field in more than one campaign; I
was in attendance on the late King in Paris when he was engaged in what
is possibly the greatest achievement of his life,--namely, laying the
first stone of our _entente_ with France, and thereby probably saving
Europe from the domination of the Teuton; I have seen his son, our
present King George, when, as a young naval lieutenant, he was serving
his country in that subordinate capacity with the same earnestness and
devotion to duty that he has shown in his present exalted position;
and, from another side, I have seen him on the polo ground, taking
his part in the Inter-ship and Regimental Polo Matches at Malta, and
exhibiting that same working together of hand and eye that has made
him one of the best game shots in the kingdom. I have ridden many
miles of messages for that gallant old Field-Marshal, the late Earl
Roberts, as his Naval Aide-de-Camp in South Africa;--have occasionally
tried to extract some information from the late Lord Kitchener (then
the Field-Marshal's right-hand man), and have breakfasted with the
Staff of the then General Sir John French on the Veldt. I can remember
David Beatty as a midshipman riding racing ponies, in which I was
frequently interested, with the same skill, dash, and determination
that has distinguished him in that larger field of operations which
the Armistice has just enabled him to quit. I have discussed at Henry
Labouchere's table the possibilities of _Cyrano de Bergerac_ as a drama
for the English stage, with the late Sir Henry Irving; I was present in
the House of Lords in my present post of Sergeant-at-Arms at the time
of the fateful division when,--in spite of the "die-hards" and their
venerable chief, Lord Halsbury,--that august body virtually voted away
their own powers.
This long career as a Spectator of Events has resulted in a list of
acquaintances which, like the immortal Sam Weller's knowledge of public
houses, is "extensive and peculiar." I confess to a great love of the
real Artist, be the artist a king or a prize-fighter, and I think that,
on the whole, this world of ours is a pleasant enough place to live in,
always assuming that you do not expect too much from your fellow-man.
So perhaps I may claim to have had more opportunities than have most
philosophical lookers-on of seeing the inside turn of life in general.
Having now made my excuses, I may as well go back and begin at the
beginning.
* * * * *
I was born at my father's place, Castle Hill, in North Devon, in
February 1856, so I may be said to have been a Crimean baby, as that
expedition had not then arrived at its conclusion. My father, the
third Earl Fortescue (who in those days was Viscount Ebrington), had
always taken life seriously, and in his early years, before going into
Parliament, where he sat as Member for Plymouth and Marylebone, had
been appointed Private Secretary to Lord Melbourne, Queen Victoria's
first Prime Minister, and had also served in the same capacity to his
uncle, Lord Harrowby, then Foreign Secretary. During the eighteen
years that he was in Parliament he was for four years Secretary to the
Poor Law Board, and he seemed to have quite a promising Parliamentary
career before him, when, unfortunately for him, his health was broken
down, so far as his official life was concerned, by a violent attack of
ophthalmia contracted whilst visiting a military hospital when serving
on a Sanitary Commission. This unfortunate accident completely lost him
one eye and much weakened the sight of the other; so for the rest of
his life he confined his activities to the management of his estates,
to which he had succeeded in 1861, and to general County work.
[Illustration: _Photo: F. Frith & Co., Ltd._]
THE KEEP OF TATTERSALL CASTLE]
These estates consist of small properties in Ireland, South Devon,
Gloucester and Lincolnshire, and considerable property at Castle Hill
in North Devon. The Lincolnshire property, which has since been sold (I
believe to some speculative firm of land buyers), deserves a passing
mention, for the Manor House of the property consists of the remains of
the famous old brick castle of Tattersall. This Tattersall Estate came
into the possession of my family about 1690, through the marriage of
the Hugh Fortescue of that day with the heiress of the Earl of Lincoln,
when it became her property (the male line of the Clinton family having
died out), and has remained in our family until its recent sale. The
Castle now only consists of a rectangular brick tower, and was built
by the Lord Treasurer Cromwell about the year 1440, which would make
it some few years more ancient than the other celebrated brick castle
of Hurstmonceux. It was originally designed to be a place of defence
and suffered severely during the Civil War, so much so that the
then owner, Theophilus, fourth Earl of Lincoln, actually petitioned
Parliament in 1649 for the damages sustained, but whether successfully
or not I know not. The tower that still remains, which was probably
the keep, is wonderfully beautiful, not only in colour but owing to
its exquisite workmanship, and it still contains the celebrated Norman
Gothic chimney-pieces which are so well known to art students through
their models in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Shortly after its sale,
which took place a very few years ago, there was a report current that
the old keep and its famous fire-places were to be pulled down, brick
by brick, and sent over to America to be there reconstructed. Whether
this report was true or not I cannot tell, but anyhow the American
scheme came to nothing owing to the patriotism and love of archæology
exhibited by Lord Curzon of Kedleston, who stepped into the breach and
bought the old Castle so as to ensure its remaining in this country.
To return to my father: it is only necessary to say that for the many
years that remained to him, after giving up political life, until old
age and infirmity had limited his activities, he remained faithful to
his County duties and was a most just and generous landlord. When he
died at the age of eighty-seven, I believe it to be true that the only
building on the estate, whether it were cottage, farm, farm-building,
village school, or church, that was badly in need of a new roof and
general repair was his own house. In fact, he was an excellent specimen
of the average Victorian peer.
My mother, who, alas! died when I was a small boy ten years old,
was the eldest daughter of Colonel and Mrs. Dawson Damer, both of
whom died before I was born. The Colonel was a very considerable
personage in his time. He had fought at Waterloo, and was earlier
a member of the Military Mission that was attached to the Emperor
Alexander during Napoleon's Moscow Campaign. In 1825 he married Miss
Mary Seymour, the daughter of Lord Hugh and Lady Horatia Seymour.
Lady Horatia will always be remembered by lovers of art as the most
beautiful of the three Ladies Waldegrave, immortalised by Sir Joshua,
and her daughter, my grandmother, Mrs. Dawson Damer, was the "little
Minnie," Mrs. Fitzherbert's adopted daughter, so often mentioned in
the Memoirs of the times of the Regency and the reign of George IV.
After Mrs. Fitzherbert's death my grandparents lived in the well-known
house in Tilney Street which Mrs. Fitzherbert had occupied for so
many years and had, on her death, bequeathed to her adopted daughter.
Besides the house in Tilney Street, Colonel and Mrs. Dawson Damer had
a charming property in Dorsetshire, Came by name, in the neighbourhood
of Weymouth, and it was from there that my parents were married. There
was a great deal of entertaining done at Came in my grandfather's
time. Prince Louis Napoleon, afterwards Napoleon III, was a constant
guest there when he was a very poor young man about town, and was
always said to have proposed marriage to my mother. I rarely believe
family legends, and so used not to have much faith in this particular
story, but Lord Rosebery told me some time ago that he believed it was
perfectly true. The Colonel, who was eminently a man of fashion as well
as a Member of Parliament, was one of the last of those to be concerned
in a political duel. He did duty as second to Lord Alvanley when he
fought Morgan O'Connell at Wimbledon. The cause of the duel, as is
well known, was that O'Connell called Alvanley a "bloated buffoon" in
the House. When called out he made his usual excuse of having vowed
never to fight another duel, and his son, Morgan O'Connell, took his
place. Three shots were exchanged on both sides and no one was hurt,
but Greville writes in his Memoirs that O'Connell's second behaved
outrageously, and, had an accident occurred, should have been hanged.
[Illustration: _From the miniature by Isabey_]
THE HON. MRS. DAWSON DAMER]
I hardly remember my grandfather, who had married in 1817 Lady Susan
Ryder, a daughter of the first Earl Harrowby; she died in 1827, but
his second wife (the widow of an Irish Baronet), to whom he was
married when Viceroy of Ireland, was one of the greatest friends of
my childhood. She must have been adorably lovely in her youth, for in
her old age she was the most beautiful old woman I have ever seen. Her
first visit to England was when she settled down at Castle Hill after
her marriage, and I well remember, in later days, when she was staying
there, the admiration we children used to feel for the neat Wellington
boots that always stood outside her bedroom door at Castle Hill, for,
from the day she first left Ireland, she always insisted on wearing
Wellingtons in the country as she was afraid of being bitten by snakes!
She survived my grandfather for many years and died at a great age.
At the time of my birth the only celebrity with whom I came in contact
was the Barnstaple doctor who assisted my entrance into the world. I
knew him well when I was a schoolboy, and in his way he certainly was,
as well as being a very good fellow, somewhat of a celebrity. He was
the eldest of nine brothers who were all doctors and all practised in
the West of England. I am positive about the number, for when covert
shooting with him as a boy he invariably talked about the medical
exploits of "my brother Octavius" or "my brother Nonus," the two who,
apparently, in his opinion, were the pick of the Budd family.
In the winter of 1859 my father, then Viscount Ebrington, accompanied
his brother John, who had developed consumptive tendencies and was
ordered abroad by his doctors, to Madeira, and, what was still more
remarkable, elected to go there with his wife and children. We were
then a family of seven children, and, as far as I can remember, from
motives of economy we were all packed up in a sailing ship with our
governesses and nurses, while our parents took the steamer to Funchal.
We arrived there all well after a journey lasting, I believe, some
three weeks. We children lived for two years in that delightful island,
and during that time two more of my brothers were born. Two events
which I remember very clearly were the arrival of the late Empress of
Austria, who came to winter there, with a large suite in attendance,
and the arrival of Captain Keppel (subsequently Admiral of the Fleet
Sir Henry Keppel) in H.M. Frigate _Forte_ on his way to take command
of the Cape of Good Hope Station. It was there that he met his future
wife, Miss West, who was living with her sister in a small villa near
the one occupied by my parents. We children, as a treat, were taken
on board the _Forte_, and that was my first introduction to the
quarter-deck of a man-of-war.
The Empress of Austria arrived about the same time in the royal yacht
_Victoria and Albert_, which had been lent to Her Imperial Majesty
by Queen Victoria. Many years afterwards, when I was serving as a
lieutenant on board her, I was able to read in the journal of the Royal
Yacht the account of the Empress' journey across the Bay. The _Victoria
and Albert_ was the most beautiful vessel of her day and a great credit
to our Naval Constructors, but, though capable of going what in those
days was an unheard-of speed--about fifteen or sixteen knots--being
under 3000 tons and a paddle steamer, she could get considerably
knocked about in heavy Atlantic weather. Unluckily for the Empress and
her travelling companions, the yacht encountered a severe gale, and
there was a heartrending account in the said journal of the horrors of
the passage. However, all things come to an end, even a bad sea voyage,
and the Empress and her suite duly arrived and installed themselves
in a couple of villas, or "quintas" as they were named in Madeira, in
close proximity to the quinta where my parents lived.
I think that, even at that very early age, I was dimly conscious of the
Empress' extraordinary beauty, but what we children naturally liked
most of all were the lovely little knick-knacks from Vienna which
she showered on us,--to say nothing of the chocolates they generally
contained.
I heard in after years what I believe to be the true reason for the
Empress' expedition. In 1859 she was very young and conscious that she
was probably the most beautiful woman in Europe, and naturally greatly
resented the Emperor's indifference to herself and attention to various
other ladies, of both worlds, in Vienna. In her dilemma she wrote and
asked the advice of Queen Victoria. The Queen strongly advised her
to leave Vienna for a time, and suggested that she should, under the
plea of ill-health, go to Madeira, which in those days was a sort of
fashionable sanatorium for all kinds of ailments, and placed her new
yacht, the _Victoria and Albert_, at the disposal of the Empress for
the journey.
It was at Madeira, too, that I saw for the first time the late Duke
of Teck, the father of Her Majesty, Queen Mary. In those days he was
a young and extremely handsome man, and for the moment was attached
to the suite of the Empress, to whom he was related. He and my father
naturally saw a great deal of each other, and remained friends for the
rest of their lives.
We were for the greater part of two years at Madeira, and during that
time my uncle died and was buried in that wonderful bower of flowers
which is the little cemetery there.
The autumn of 1860 saw us on our way back to Europe, and the winter of
1860-61 was spent at Pau. In those days the railway only went as far
as Dax, and the rest of the journey had to be done by "diligence." I
have a hazy recollection of the discomforts of that journey, for our
_little_ party consisted of nine children and two governesses, and I
suppose a nurse or two. Anyhow, we must have taken up a good deal
of the interior of that somewhat archaic vehicle, and we children
remembered afterwards with delight the remark addressed to our most
respectable middle-aged spinster governess, who was in charge of this
caravan, by a sympathetic Frenchman: "Mon Dieu, Madame, êtes vous donc
la grand'mère de _tous_ ces enfants?"
During our stay at Pau my grandfather died, and my parents settled down
at Castle Hill, with 17 Bruton Street as their London house.
Naturally the next few years, which were passed while still in the
hands of governesses and nurses, were absolutely colourless, but I can
still remember some of the house parties at Castle Hill. My father,
like all the Whigs of the early 'sixties, was greatly interested in the
Italian movement. Various Italian celebrities used to undertake the
long journey down to Devonshire, I suppose to make the acquaintance of
a specimen of an English country house and to see a week of English
country life. It was our great amusement as children, just before
being packed off to bed, to lean over the gallery which surrounded the
hall when the guests were assembling before dinner, and watch them
processing into the dining-room, and I can well remember our childish
delight and wonder at the behaviour of the Italians, who invariably
went in to dinner, as was the custom in those days on the Continent,
with their gibus hats under their arms.
For the next few years Castle Hill and Bruton Street were my alternate
homes in their respective seasons, and one of the impressive ceremonies
I remember was being allowed to see our parents dressed up for Court,
and, greatest joy of all, to see them driven away in a coach with a
footman behind, and one of my dearest friends, the coachman, in a wig
and state livery, enthroned on his hammer-clothed box. How smart were
the carriages in London in those days, and how paltry do the most
expensive Rolls-Royce cars appear in comparison! Even on ordinary
occasions the whole of London Society, which in those days was small
and select, used to take their afternoon drives in barouches. In our
turn, we children used to drive in the sacred vehicle with our mother.
It was very magnificent. To drive in a barouche in London in the height
of the Season was rather a solemn affair and not particularly amusing,
and the only redeeming feature I remember was that at the end of the
outing the carriage used to pull up under the trees in Berkeley Square,
and, delight of delights! strawberry ices used to be brought to us from
Gunter's to consume in the carriage, and that admirable institution,
I am glad to see, still keeps its hospitable doors open. It was one
of the sights of the London Season to see the carriages pulled up in
the shade of the trees, full of children consuming strawberry ices. I
insist on strawberry ices, for, as far as I can remember, no child ever
dreamt of asking for any other.
The expression "dearest friend" as regards the coachman was certainly
no mere figure of speech. The two men a boy loves best in the world are
the two who teach him how to ride and how to shoot. My friend of the
hammer-clothed box did the former, the tuition of the latter fell to
the lot of the butler. The butler's business is generally supposed to
lie in another direction, but in our particular case he was undoubtedly
the right person, as, apart from his other dignities, he had the high
honour of being own brother to the head gamekeeper.
The early years slipped away in the happy childhood that is always
ensured by being one of a large family of children treading close
on one another's heels. For, by the time I went to school in 1865,
there were exactly a dozen of us,--no very unusual number in those
days of large families. Our nearest neighbour and kinsman, the Lord
Portsmouth of that day, was the happy father of nine, and to go
back another generation or two, I was always led to believe that my
step-grandmother, to whose Wellington boots I have already alluded, was
one of a family of over twenty.
In the summer of 1865 my eldest brother--my senior by a little over
a year--and I were sent to school at Brighton. The owner and manager
of this establishment was an old lady, Mrs. Walker by name, and, as
was inevitable in those days, the school came to be known by the name
of Hookey's. This school, one way and another, earned an excellent
reputation, and I suppose was quite as good as any other preparatory
school for Eton and Harrow, to one of which schools nearly all the
boys went eventually. Certainly the boys of my time achieved, as a
lot, very considerable success in after life. Out of about sixty boys,
who must have passed through there during my time, I can remember
three Lytteltons, known to us as Bob, Edward and Alfred: the eldest of
the three is now a well-known solicitor, the second was Headmaster of
Haileybury and Eton, and the youngest was one of the most brilliant
men of his time, not only as a born athlete, but in the House of
Commons, and in the Cabinet as Colonial Secretary. I also recollect
two Northcotes, one being the late Lord Northcote, a most successful
Colonial Governor-General; the late Sir Michael Herbert, whose
much-to-be-regretted early death had not prevented him from rising
to the rank of Ambassador at an unusually early age; Colonel à Court
Repington, the well-known writer on military subjects; my own younger
brother, John, now a distinguished man of letters; my cousin, the late
Lord Portsmouth, and his next two brothers,--the late peer was at one
time Under-Secretary of State for War; the present Lord Strathmore and
his brothers; and a good sprinkling of boys who subsequently became
soldiers, many of whom,--including my brother, Lionel, who was killed
in South Africa,--have met a bullet in the wars, great and small, of
the last forty-five years.
Poor old Hookey! She was a good old woman and a terrific snob. It
speaks well for the sense of humour of the school when I can aver
that its best mimic always had his greatest success when he gave his
imitation of the old lady showing parents of possible prospective
pupils over the school. She invariably used to produce, apparently
out of her sleeve and quite by accident, all the eldest sons, the
regular formula being: "That boy is Lord Blank, Earl Dash's son. Come
here, Blank, my dear; I am so glad to learn from your tutor that you
are first in your class this week." If there happened to be a slump
in eldest sons, even a wretched "honourable" would be produced as a
makeshift; but as we were well supplied with Viscounts this very seldom
happened.
My holidays were passed entirely at Castle Hill, and hunting became the
great joy of the summer and winter holidays, for, in addition to the
fox-hunting provided by our kinsman and neighbour, Lord Portsmouth,
the Devon and Somerset Staghounds used to begin their season in
mid-August, and it was in August 1866 that I was formally entered to
the sport of stag-hunting, having been in at the death of a hunted
stag after a terrifically long run. My eldest brother and I were both
baptised at the same time, having both managed to get to the end on
our Exmoor ponies. The ceremony of blooding was performed by the Rev.
John Russell, the well-known sporting parson, generally known as Jack
Russell, who, in those days, was vicar of a neighbouring parish and
esteemed to be the greatest authority on hunting, whether of the stag,
the fox, the otter, or the hare, that lived in the West Country. We got
home somewhere about ten o'clock that night and fought ferociously to
prevent the blood being washed off our faces before being packed off to
bed.