Looking Back

by Sir Seymour John Fortescue

The year 1902 was a very busy one. In March I was in attendance on their Majesties, when they visited Dartmouth to lay the foundation-stone of the College there that took the place of the old Britannia. The change was all for the better, as the old ship was far from healthy even in my time, and age was not likely to improve her sanitary condition. From Dartmouth the Royal party went on to Plymouth, and passed the night on board the Victoria and Albert, where a large dinner party was entertained, consisting not only of the principal Naval Officials belonging to the port, but also of the Admiral and Captains of a Japanese Squadron that was there at the time. On the following day Queen Alexandra launched H.M.S. Queen, with the usual ceremonial, and the King laid the first plate of a new battleship, the King Edward.

About two months later I was spending a Sunday at the White Lodge, Richmond Park, with one of my oldest friends, Mrs. Hartmann, to whom the lodge had been lent by the King. At luncheon time she announced to her guests that the King was motoring down for tea, and at tea-time he duly arrived. We were all assembled out in the garden, and I was sure from his manner that there was some news in store for us. We had not long to wait, as without any waste of words he informed us that what he was about to tell us would be known to the world next morning, and that was, that the conditions of peace had been signed at Vereeniging, which virtually meant that the long and tiresome South African War had come to an end. For many years past, even people quite unaddicted to business in the City, had been gambling in South African shares, much, I suppose, to the delight of the South African Jews, who had invaded London and taken up their abode there. It seemed the obvious thing that, peace being signed, South Africans would go up, and I fancy a good many of us went up to London early next morning to get the first of the market. The obvious rarely happens in real life, and, as far as I can remember, the shares that were expected to rise all fell, and the small punters, as usual, lost their money.

In June the Coronation that had been arranged for the 24th was put off, owing to the very serious illness of the King, and the operation that it entailed. I was in attendance on the Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovitch of Russia, who had been sent to represent his brother, the Emperor. The Grand Duke was attended by a large suite, who were lodged very conveniently for the expected ceremony at the Buckingham Palace Hotel. Most of us remember the consternation that reigned in London when the ceremony was postponed, and few could have imagined it possible that the King could have made such a marvellous recovery as he did, and thus enable the Coronation to take place at the early date of August the 9th,—but so it was.

On the 1st of August I went down to Cowes to take my turn of duty. His Majesty had been already there for about a fortnight, and I remember my amazed delight at seeing him looking so marvellously well after such a short convalescence. Sir Frederick Treves, who had performed the operation (a very serious one), told me how astonished he was at the King’s powers of recuperation; and then afterwards, on the day after the Coronation, he was again telling me that he did not think it humanly possible that any man, who had only just recovered from such a dangerous illness, could be as well as he was after that very long and fatiguing ceremony at Westminster. I was very fortunate in being in personal attendance on that historic occasion, which has been so often described by far more practised pens than mine, that I refrain from enlarging on it; but as an instance of their Majesties’ kind thoughtfulness for their attendants, after the cortège had returned to the palace we were all given the opportunity of offering our congratulations, before the King and Queen had divested themselves of their very beautiful, but remarkably heavy, coronation robes.

Events passed quickly. Within a week the Royal party had resumed their stay on board the Royal Yacht at Cowes. On the 16th the King reviewed the Fleet at Spithead, and the next day received on board the yacht the Boer Generals Delarey, de Wet, and Botha. Towards the end of August the Royal party went for a cruise, to work round to Scotland by the West Coast. Whenever their Majesties were cruising in the Royal Yacht or using her as their home at Cowes, the Marine Painter to the Sovereign, the late Cavaliere de Martino, was invariably one of the suite in attendance. Martino was a great character. A Neapolitan by birth, he had subsequently served in the Brazilian Navy, and then given up his naval career to become an artist. He had a complete knowledge of every detail connected with a ship, but, what was far more important, he had the real artist’s sense of atmosphere, which, for him, meant sea and sky, and I am lucky enough to possess several of his charming sketches to this day. I used to see a great deal of him when he was on board, as, knowing a little Italian, I could more or less understand the extraordinary sort of lingua franca that he always talked, which appeared to be a sort of mixture of Neapolitan, Portuguese, and English. The only guests on board, I think, were the Marquis de Soveral, then Portuguese Minister, and Mr. and Mrs. Derek Keppel, now Sir Derek and Lady Keppel, Sir Derek being the well-known Master of the Household to King George.

One of our first stops was made at the Isle of Man, which the King and Queen had never seen, and consequently desired to visit thoroughly. It was arranged that the party was to have a picnic luncheon at some historic ruin that is at one end of the island, and then drive across to the other side and finish the journey back to the landing-place by tramway. The arrangements for this expedition automatically fell upon my shoulders as Equerry-in-Waiting, and I don’t know that I have ever spent a more arduous twelve hours. It was the middle of the tourist season! I forget the exact number of thousands of them that were on the island that morning, but I remember that the entire local police consisted of a very able Chief Constable and, about six men. The tourists were determined to see as much of their Sovereign and his Consort as they could manage, and though it was the best-intentioned and most loyal crowd that I have ever seen, its immense size and demonstrative loyalty made it really very difficult to cope with. When the drive across the island took place, the tourists constituted themselves into a vast escort of bicyclists. This was all very well as regards the first carriage in which their Majesties were driving, but the carriages behind were enveloped in such a cloud of dust that the unfortunate coachmen literally could not see to drive. Finally, after what was for me, to use the modern expression, “a hectic day,” we arrived back at the port where the boats were ready to re-embark us all. The King’s carriage drove out to the end of the pier, but so great was the crowd that the occupants of the other carriages had to get out and walk alongside, and in the wake of, this one vehicle, and even that was not easy, for the pressure was so great, and the crowd so enthusiastic, that one had literally to cling to any part of the carriage one could get hold of. However all ended well. Their Majesties were much gratified with the loyalty and friendliness of the people, who were, on their side, equally delighted to have their Sovereign and his Consort actually in their midst; but personally, being, as Equerry, entirely responsible for anything connected with journeys, I was extremely relieved, when I found myself once again in the decorous surroundings of the Royal Yacht.

Another very interesting island visited that autumn was Arran, where the Duchess of Hamilton and her daughter were established in a shooting-box, which literally was a sort of sportsman’s paradise. Every officer in the ship who could be spared from duty was provided with some sort of sport. One party went after grouse. Two rifles were sent on the hill, and there was excellent salmon and sea-trout fishing for the rest. There was also known to be a heavy stag, who had taken to leaving the hill and coming down to feed on some corn that was in the immediate vicinity of the lodge; the King succeeded in shooting him late in the evening. The Royal party and their guests had spent the afternoon on the fringe of the moor, watching some sheep-dog trials; these trials, I believe, are constantly held in Wales and Scotland, and are well worth watching. Each shepherd works his own dog without moving from a certain fixed place, and it is little short of marvellous to see how dog and man work together. The sheep are in the distance on the hill, and the prize is given to the dog who succeeds in turning them off the hill, making them go through certain gaps, and finally rounding them up in a small enclosure in the shortest time, one of the conditions being that the sheep are to be herded there, without being distressed or exhausted.

Another place visited was Dunrobin, and there again excellent sport was provided. There were not a great many guests staying at the castle during their Majesties’ visit, but one charming lady, whose acquaintance I remember I had that opportunity of making, was Miss Irene Vanbrugh, otherwise Mrs. Dion Boucicault.

Shortly after the visit to Dunrobin I was relieved by a brother Equerry and went down South.

Whilst on the subject of country houses and sport in the North, I may as well mention that, before the war, I had made for many years a practice of going to Scotland in the autumn, and I can look back with infinite pleasure on the many happy and health-giving days spent in that very delightful part of the world. At many of these places I became almost an annual visitor. I am afraid to say how many times I was a guest at Tulchan, that delightful lodge and moor on Speyside, that was so long tenanted by the late Mr. Arthur Sassoon and his charming wife. Year after year I was one of the many who were invited there, and had not only excellent sport in very beautiful surroundings, but the greatest fun in the most supreme comfort; for though only a shooting-lodge, very simply arranged, the Chef was super-excellent, and the wine matched the Chef! One of the features of Tulchan was the number of dogs that literally swarmed there. Mrs. Arthur Sassoon herself was an ardent dog-lover, and had a string of Skye terriers. Our host had a large yellow retriever that was always with him. Every male guest thought it incumbent on him to bring a retriever, and the ladies of the party invariably possessed at least one dog apiece, and I veritably believe that had they not possessed a dog to take with them to Tulchan, they would have hired one for the occasion! So, as I remarked before, dogs swarmed there. Poor Major Seymour Wynne Finch (long since dead, to the infinite sorrow of his many friends, of whom, I am glad to remember, I was one,) was another yearly visitor to Tulchan. After one of his visits he wrote to thank his hostess for a very pleasant visit, adding: “it was so nice of you to have such a charming lot of dogs to meet me.” Moreover, there were very few years that passed without the late King, or the present King spending a few days of their stay in Scotland, as the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Sassoon at Tulchan Lodge, Speyside.