We entertained other famous soldiers besides Lord Roberts, such as Lord Dundonald, when he came back from the great exploit of his life, the relief of Ladysmith, and Sir Ian Hamilton. Cecil Raleigh, I remember, took the chair to Sir Ian Hamilton, and showed his versatility by making a really admirable speech. I do not remember who it was who took the chair to Lord Dundonald, but he told a characteristic story of Lord Dundonald in his earlier service in Egypt.
When the news of the fall of Khartum reached the army which might have relieved Khartum, if Sir Charles Wilson had pushed on, taking the risks as Lord Roberts would have taken them, after the victory of Abu Klea, the General asked for an officer to volunteer to carry the dispatches to Sir Redvers Buller at the base. It was necessary to have some one with a knowledge of astronomy, because he had to find his way across the desert, to avoid the great loop of the Nile above the Second Cataract. There were many men who would have risked the dangers of meeting wandering parties of dervishes, but there was only one of the force who was not only prepared to take the risk, but possessed the requisite astronomical knowledge, and that was Lord Cochrane, a subaltern in the 2nd Life Guards, the future Lord Dundonald. He carried out his mission, and in an incredibly small number of hours presented the dispatches to Sir Redvers, whom he found sleeping under a palm tree. As soon as he had delivered them, he collapsed with exhaustion.
He is a grandson, of course, of the immortal frigate Commander, the fighting Lord Cochrane, the Almirante Cochrane who was the liberator of South America, and is a distinguished inventor. He invented the pocket heating apparatus for soldiers to carry when doing sentry work in cold climates, the extra light carriages used for machine-guns in the Boer War, and the apparatus for enabling cavalry soldiers to turn out ready for duty as quickly as firemen.
From time to time we entertained distinguished ecclesiastics such as the late and the present Bishops of London and the ex-Bishop of Ripon. Creighton was much the best guest of the three, for he had a most saving gift of humour.
For some reason or other, on the night that he was with us, at the conclusion of his speech returning thanks for the way in which his health has been proposed, he had to propose the toast of journalism, coupled with the name of the editor of The Times. He said, “I do not know much about newspapers; I read so few of them. I have only one test for them, and that is their suitability for wrapping up shooting boots. And, judged by this standard, The Times is the best newspaper.”
It was not easy to get the better of Creighton, with his humour to back up his wisdom and firmness. But my dear old friend, the late Father Stanton, who was a frequent visitor to Vagabond entertainments with F. E. Sidney, once got the better of him, and he was very amusing in telling the story of it.
Creighton, it appears, went to a service of Stanton’s, because he wished to wean him from certain ritualistic practices. After the service was over, they had a talk in the vestry, which was quite cordial, because Creighton knew the essential greatness and goodness of Stanton’s character. Stanton, who was very astute and tactful about getting his own way, and yet avoiding trouble with his Bishop, adroitly kept the conversation away from dangerous points, and finally the Bishop gave up, and called for his carriage. Stanton escorted him to the carriage door, and as he was driving off, Creighton got out what he had come to say.
“I don’t like that incense of yours, Stanton.”
“Nor do I, my lord, it’s wretched stuff—only three and sixpence a pound, but I can’t afford any better.”
“Do without it, Stanton, do without it altogether,” said the Bishop.