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Chapter 16 - MY RETURN TO CIVILIZATION ONCE MORE—THE MAFEKING FUND—LETTERS
FROM THE KING AND QUEEN
"Let us admit it fairly,
As business people should,
We have had no end of a lesson:
It will do us no end of good."
KIPLING.
On June 27 I left Johannesburg under the escort of Major Bobby White, who
had kindly promised to see me safely as far as Cape Town. We travelled in a
shabby third-class carriage, the only one on the train, which was merely
composed of open trucks. Our first long delay was at Elandsfontein,
practically still in the Rand District. There the officer in charge came up
with the pleasing intelligence that the train we were to join had broken
down, and would certainly be four hours late; so we had to get through a
very weary wait at this most unattractive little township, whose only
interesting features were the distant chimneys and unsightly shafts of the
Simmer and Jack and the Rose Deep Mines, and far away, on the horizon, the
little white house, amid a grove of trees, which had been Lord Roberts's
headquarters barely a month ago, and from which he had sent the summons to
Johannesburg to surrender. All around, indeed, was the scene of recent
fighting, and various polite transport officers tried to while away the
tedium of our enforced delay by pointing out various faint ridges, and
explaining that there the Gordons had made their splendid charge, or,
again, that farther back General French had encountered such a stubborn
resistance, and so on, ad libitum. In response I gazed with
enthusiastic interest, but the flat, hideous country, which guards its
deeply buried treasure so closely, seemed so alike in every direction, and
the operations of the victorious army covered so wide an area, that it was
difficult to make a brain picture of that rapid succession of feats of arms.
At the station itself the "Tommys" buzzed about like bees, and the officers
were having tea or dinner, or both combined, in the refreshment-room. One
overheard scraps of conversation, from a subaltern to his superior officer:
"A capital bag to-day, sir. Forty Mausers and ten thousand rounds of
ammunition." Then someone else remarked that a railway-train from the South
passed yesterday, riddled with bullets, and recounted the marvellous escape
its occupants had had, which was not encouraging in view of our intended
journey over the same route. A young man in uniform presently entered with a
limp, and, in answer to inquiries, said his wounded leg was doing famously,
adding that the bullet had taken exactly the same course as the one did not
six weeks ago—only then it had affected the other knee; "so I knew how to
treat it, and I am off to the Yeomanry Hospital, if they will have me. I
only left there a fortnight ago, and, by Jove! it was like leaving
Paradise!" Another arrival came along saying the Boers had received a proper
punishing for their last depredations on the railway, when De Wet had
brought off his crowning coup by destroying the mail-bags. But this
gentleman had hardly finished his tale when a decided stir was observable,
and we heard a wire was to hand saying the same De Wet was again on the
move, and that a strong force of men and guns were to leave for the scene of
action by our train to-night. At this juncture, seeing there was no prospect
of any immediate departure, I installed myself comfortably with a book in
the waiting-room, and was so absorbed that I did not even notice the arrival
of a train from Heidelberg, till the door opened, and my nephew, the Duke of
Marlborough, looked in, and we exchanged a surprised greeting, being totally
unaware of each other's whereabouts. Except for meeting Winston in Pretoria,
I had not seen the face of one of my relations for more than a year, but so
many surprising things happen in wartime that we did not evince any great
astonishment at this strange and unexpected meeting. In answer to my
inquiries as to what brought him there, he told me he was returning to
Pretoria with his temporarily incapacitated chief, General Ian Hamilton, who
was suffering from a broken collar-bone, incurred by a fall from his horse.
Expecting to find the General in a smart ambulance carriage, it was somewhat
of a shock to be guided to a very dilapidated old cattle-truck, with open
sides and a floor covered with hay. I peeped in, and extended on a rough
couch in the farther corner, I perceived the successful General, whose name
was in everybody's mouth. In spite of his unlucky accident, he was full of
life and spirits, and we had quite a long conversation. I have since often
told him how interesting was his appearance, and he, in reply, has assured
me how much he was impressed by a blue bird's-eye cotton dress I was
wearing, the like of which he had not seen since he left England, many
months before. His train soon rumbled on, and then we had a snug little
dinner in the ladies' waiting-room that the Station-Commandant, a gallant
and hospitable Major, had made gay with trophies, photographs, and coloured
pictures out of various journals. From a deep recess under his bed he
produced an excellent bottle of claret, and the rest of the dinner was
supplied from the restaurant.The short African winter's day had faded
into a blue and luminous night, resplendent with stars, and still our
belated train tarried. However, the situation was improved, for later
advices stated that the Boers had cleared off from the vicinity of the
railway-line, and that we should surely leave before midnight. All these
rumours certainly added to the excitement of a railway-journey, and it
occurred to me how tame in comparison would be the ordinary departure of the
"Flying Scotsman," or any other of the same tribe that nightly leave the
great London termini.
At length, with many a puff and agonized groan from the poor little
undersized engine, we departed into the dim, mysterious night, which hourly
became more chill, and which promised a sharp frost before morning. As we
crawled out of the station, our kind military friends saluted, and wished
us, a little ironically, a pleasant journey. When I was about to seek
repose, Major White looked in, and said: "Sleep with your head away from the
window, in case of a stray shot"; and then I turned down the light, and was
soon in the land of dreams.
The much-dreaded night passed quite quietly, and in the morning the
carriage windows were thickly coated with several degrees of frost. The
engines of the Netherlands Railway, always small and weak, were at that time
so dirty from neglect and overpressure during the war, that their pace was
but a slow crawl, and uphill they almost died away to nothing. However,
fortunately, going south meant going downhill, and we made good progress
over the flat uninteresting country, which, in view of recent events, proved
worthy of careful attention. Already melancholy landmarks of the march of
the great army lay on each side of the line in the shape of carcasses of
horses, mules, and oxen. Wolvehoek was the first stop. Here blue-nosed
soldiers descended from the railway-carriages in varied and weird costumes,
making a rush with their billies[40]
for hot water, wherewith to cook their morning coffee, cheerily laughing and
cracking their jokes, while shivering natives in blankets and tattered
overcoats waited hungrily about for a job or scraps of food. After leaving
Wolvehoek, we entered on Commandant De Wet's hunting-ground and the scene of
his recent exploits. There, at almost every culvert, at every ganger's
house, were pickets of soldiers, all gathered round a crackling fire at that
chill morning hour; and at every one of these posts freshly constructed
works of sandbags and deep trenches were in evidence to denote that their
sentry work was no play, but grim earnest.
We next crossed the Rhenoster Spruit, and passed the then famous
Rhenoster position, so formidable even to the unskilled eye, and where my
military friends told me the Boers would have given much trouble, had it not
been for the two outspread wings of the Commander-in-Chief's army. A little
farther on, the deviation line and the railway-bridge were pointed out as
one of the many triumphs of engineering skill to be seen and marvelled at on
that recently restored line. The achievements of these lion-hearted
engineers could not fail to impress themselves even on a civilian. Many
amongst them were volunteers, who had previously occupied brilliant
positions in the great mining community in Johannesburg, and whose brains
were the pride of a circle where intellectual achievements and persevering
resource commanded at once the greatest respect and the highest
remuneration. Some of these latter had family ties besides their
considerable positions, but they gladly hastened to place their valuable
services at the disposal of their Queen, and, in conjunction with the
regular Royal Engineers, were destined to find glory, and in many cases
death, at their perilous work. The task of the engineers is probably
scarcely realized by people who have not seen actual warfare. We do not read
so frequently of their doings as of those of their gallant colleagues on
foot or on horse; but soldiers know that neither the genius of the Generals
nor the intrepidity of the men could avail without them; and as the scouts
are called the eyes, so might the engineers, both regular and volunteer, be
termed the hands and feet, of an advancing force. The host sweeps on, and
the workers are left with pickaxe and shovel, rifles close at hand, to work
at their laborious task loyally and patiently, while deeds of courage and
daring are being done and applauded not many miles away from them. This
particular Rhenoster bridge was destroyed and rebuilt no less than three
times up to the date of which I write, and the third time was only ten days
previously, when Christian De Wet had also worked havoc among the mail-bags,
the only cruel thing attributed to that commander, respected both by friends
and foes. The sad, dumb testimony of this lamented misfortune was to be seen
in the shape of thousands of mutilated envelopes and torn letters which
covered the rails and the ground beyond—letters which would have brought joy
to many a lonely heart at the front. It was really heartbreaking to behold
this melancholy remnant of 1,500 mail-bags, and, a little farther on, to see
three skeleton trucks charred by fire, which told how the warm clothing
destined for the troops perished when De Wet and his burghers had taken all
they needed. Many yarns were related to me about the chivalry of this
farmer-General, especially respecting the mail-bags, and how he said that
his burghers should not make fun of the English officers' letters, and
therefore that he burnt them with his own hands. Another anecdote was
remarkable—namely, that of an officer searching sadly among the heap of
debris for some eagerly expected letter, and who came across an uninjured
envelope directed to himself, containing his bank-book from Messrs. Cox and
Sons, absolutely intact and untouched. It can only be conjectured whether he
would as soon have known it in ashes.
On arriving in the vicinity of Kroonstadt, the most risky part of the
journey was over, and then a wonderfully novel scene unfolded itself as we
crawled over a rise from the desolate, barren country we had been
traversing, and a tented city lay in front of us. Anyway, such was its
appearance at a first glance, for white tents stretched far away east and
west, and appeared to swamp into insignificance the unpretentious houses,
and even a fairly imposing church-spire which lay in the background. I had
never seen anything like this vast army depôt, and examined everything with
the greatest attention and interest. Huge mountains of forage covered by
tarpaulin sheets were the first things to catch my eye; then piles upon
piles of wooden cases were pointed out as "rations"—that mysterious term
which implies so much and may mean so little; again, there was a hillock of
wicker-covered bottles with handles which puzzled me, and which were
explained as "cordials" of some kind. Powerful traction-engines, at rest and
in motion, next came into sight, and weird objects that looked like
lifeboats mounted on trucks, but which proved to be pontoons—strange
articles to perceive at a railway-station. Then we passed a vast concourse
of red-cross tents of every description, proclaiming a hospital. As far as
outward appearances went, it looked most beautifully arranged in
symmetrically laid-out streets, while many of the marquees had their sides
thrown back, and showed the patients within, either in bed or sitting about
and enjoying the breeze and the rays of a sun never too hot at that time of
year. "How happy and comfortable they look!" was my remark as we left them
behind. Someone who knew Kroonstadt said: "Yes, they are all right; but the
Scotch Hospital is the one to see if you are staying long
enough—spring-beds, writing-tables, and every luxury." I was sorry time
admitted of no visit to this establishment or to the magnificent Yeomanry
Hospital at Deelfontein, farther south, to which I shall have occasion to
allude in a later chapter. This last establishment was, even at that early
stage of the war, a household word among the soldiers at the front, a dearly
longed-for Mecca amongst the sick and wounded.
Our train had come to an abrupt standstill, and, on looking out, the line
appeared so hopelessly blocked that the only way of reaching the station and
lunch appeared to be on foot. We walked, therefore, upwards of half a mile,
undergoing many perils from shunting engines, trains undecided whether to go
on or to go back, and general confusion. It certainly did not look as if our
train could be extricated for hours, but it proved there was method in this
apparent muddle, and we suffered no delay worth speaking of. The station was
densely packed with Staff officers and soldiers. Presently someone elbowed a
way through the crowd to make way for the General, just arrived from
Bloemfontein. A momentary interest was roused as an elderly, soldierly
gentleman, with white hair and a slight figure, passed out of sight into one
of the officials' rooms, and then we joined the throng trying to get food in
the overtaxed refreshment-room. We had some interesting conversation with
the officer in command of the station, and learnt how the Kroonstadt
garrison were even then living in the midst of daily alarms from De Wet or
his followers; added to these excitements, there was a colossal amount of
work to be got through in the way of supplying Pretoria with food, by a line
liable to be interrupted, and in coping with the task of receiving and
unloading remounts, which were arriving from the South in large numbers. I
saw some of these poor animals packed nine in a truck, marvellously quiet,
and unmindful of strange sights and sounds, and of being hurled against each
other when the locomotive jerked on or came to a stop. They were in good
condition, but their eyes were sad and their tails were woefully rubbed.
After seeing Kroonstadt Railway-station, I realized that the work of a Staff
officer on the lines of communication was no sinecure.
Marvellous to relate, in the early afternoon we found our train in the
station, and, climbing into our carriage once more, we proceeded on our road
without delay, congratulating ourselves on our good fortune in not being
held up at Kroonstadt, as had been the fate of many travellers going south.
Immediately south of Kroonstadt we crossed the Vaal River, with its fine
high-level bridge reduced to atoms by dynamite. This had given the engineers
another opportunity to display their skill by a clever deviation of a couple
of miles in length, winding down almost to the water-level, and then
serenely effecting the crossing by a little wooden bridge, from which its
ruined predecessor was visible about a quarter of a mile up the stream.
Darkness and approaching night then hid the landscape. That evening we were
told we need have no fears, for we were practically out of the dangerous
zone. We dined comfortably in our compartment, and I heard many more
reminiscences of the advance from two travelling companions who had taken
part in it. Suddenly in the next compartment a party of Canadian officers
commenced singing part-songs with real musical talent. We relapsed into
silence as we heard the "Swanee River" sung more effectively than I have
ever heard it before or since, and it reminded me that we, too, were going
home. Presently we found ourselves joining in the chorus of that most
touching melody, "Going back to Dixie," greatly to the delight of our
sociable and talented neighbours. Daylight next morning brought us to
Bloemfontein and civilization, and what impressed me most was the fact of
daily newspapers being sold at a bookstall, which sight I had not seen for
many months. On arriving at Cape Town, I was most hospitably entertained at
Groot Schuurr by Colonel Frank Rhodes, in the absence of his brother. This
mansion had been a convalescent home for many officers ever since the war
began. There I passed a busy ten days in seeing heaps of friends, and I had
several interviews with Sir Alfred Milner, to whom events of the siege and
relief of Mafeking were of specially deep interest. I gave him as a memento
a small Mauser bullet mounted as a scarf-pin, and before leaving for England
I received from him the following letter:
"GOVERNMENT HOUSE,
"CAPE TOWN,
"November 7, 1900.
"DEAR LADY SARAH,
"How very kind of you to think of giving me that interesting relic of
Mafeking! It will indeed revive memories of anxiety, as well as of the
intensest feeling of relief and thankfulness that I have ever experienced.
"Hoping we shall meet again when 'distress and strain are over,'
"I am,
"Yours very sincerely,
"ALFRED MILNER."
Much of my time was also occupied in corresponding with Mafeking about
the distribution of the fund which was being energetically collected in
London by my sister, Lady Georgiana Curzon. Many weeks before we were
relieved I had written to Lady Georgiana, then hard at work with the
organization of the Yeomanry Hospital, suggesting to her to start a relief
fund for the inhabitants of Mafeking. It had all along seemed to me that
these latter deserved some substantial recognition and compensation beyond
what they could expect from the Government, for damage done to their homes
and their shops, and for the utter stagnation of the trade in the town
during the siege. The nurses, the nuns and their convent, were also worthy
objects for charity. This latter residence, but lately built, and including
a nicely decorated chapel with many sacred images, had been, as I have said,
practically destroyed; and the Sisters had borne their part most nobly, in
nursing the sick and wounded, while many were suffering in health from the
privations they had undergone. In response to my appeal, Lady Georgiana
inserted the following letter in the Times just before the news of
the Relief reached England:
"20, CURZON STREET, W.,
"May 11.
"SIR,"I venture to address an
appeal to the people of the United Kingdom, through the columns of your
paper, on behalf of the inhabitants of Mafeking. Nothing but absolute
knowledge of their sufferings prompts me to thus inaugurate another fund,
and one which must come in addition to the numerous subscriptions already
started in connection with the South African War. I admit the generous
philanthropy of our country has been evinced to a degree that is almost
inconceivable, and I hesitate even now in making this fresh appeal, but can
only plead as an excuse the heartrending accounts of the sufferings of
Mafeking that I have received from my sister, Lady Sarah Wilson.
"The last mail from South Africa brought me a letter from her, dated
March 3. In it she implores me to take active measures to bring before the
generous British public the destitute condition of the nuns, refugees, and
civilians generally, in Mafeking. She writes with authority, having
witnessed their sufferings herself, and, indeed, having shared equally with
them the anxieties and privations of this prolonged siege. Her letter
describes the absolute ruin of all the small tradespeople, whose homes are
in many cases demolished. The compensation they will receive for damaged
goods will be totally inadequate to cover their loss. Years must pass ere
their trade can be restored to the proportions of a livelihood. Meanwhile
starvation in the immediate future lies before them. The unfortunate Sisters
in the convent have for weeks hardly had a roof over their heads, the Boer
shells having more or less destroyed their home. In consequence, their
belongings left intact by shot or shell have been ruined by rain. The
destruction of their small and humble properties, in addition to their
discomfort, has added to their misery; and yet no complaining word has
passed their lips, but they have throughout cheerfully and willingly
assisted the hospital nurses in their duties, always having smiles and
encouraging words for the sick and wounded.
"Sitting at home in our comfortable houses, it is hard to realize the
actual sufferings of these besieged inhabitants of Mafeking. My letter tells
me that for months they have not slept in their beds, and although no
opposition to the Boer forces in the first instance would have saved their
town, their properties, and in many cases their lives, yet they one and all
bravely and nobly 'buckled to,' and stood by that gallant commander,
Baden-Powell. Loyalty was their cry, and freedom and justice their household
gods. Have not their courage and endurance thrilled the whole world? I feel
I need not ask forgiveness for issuing yet this one more appeal. It comes
last, but is it least? A handful of soldiers, nearly all colonials, under a
man who must now rank as a great and tried commander, have for six months
repelled the Boer attacks. Could this small force have for one moment been a
match for the well-equipped besiegers if the inhabitants had not fought for
and with the garrison? Some worked and fought in actual trenches; others
demonstrated by patient endurance their cool and courageous determination
never to give in. Would it not be a graceful recognition of their courage
if, on that glorious day, which we hope may not be far distant, when the
relief of Mafeking is flashed across thousands of miles to the 'heart of the
Empire,' we could cable back our congratulations on their freedom, and
inform Mafeking that a large sum of money is ready to be placed by this
country for the relief of distress amongst the Sisters, refugees, and
suffering civilians of the town?
"I feel I shall not ask in vain, but that our congratulations to Mafeking
will take most material form by generous admirers in the United Kingdom.
"Subscriptions will be received by Messrs. Hoare and Co., bankers, Fleet
Street, E.C.
"I remain,
"Your obedient servant,
"GEORGIANA CURZON."
The fund had reached unhoped-for proportions. In our most optimistic
moments we did not expect to collect more than two or three thousand pounds,
but subscriptions had poured in from the very commencement, and the grand
amount of £29,267 was finally the total contributed. This sum was ably
administered by Colonel Vyvyan of the Buffs, who had been Base-Commandant of
Mafeking during the siege. He was assisted by a committee, and the principal
items allocated by these gentlemen were as follows:
£
Widows and orphans
6,536
Refugees
4,630
Town relief
3,741
Seaside fund
2,900
Churches, convent, schools, etc. 2,900
Wounded men
2,245
Small tradesmen
1,765
Hospital staff, nuns, etc.
1,115
Colonel Plumer's Rhodesian column, etc.
1,000
Lady Georgiana Curzon's eloquent appeal proved to be the salvation of
many a family in Mafeking.
The popularity of the fund was enormously helped by the interest of the
then Prince and Princess of Wales, now our King and Queen, in the town and
in the assistance of the same. This interest was evinced by the following
letters, given to me later by my sister:
"TREASURER'S HOUSE,
"YORK
"June 20, 1900.
MY DEAR LADY GEORGIE.
"The Princess and I thank you very much for sending your sister's
letters for us to read. They are most interesting, and admirably written.
She has certainly gone through experiences which ought to last her a
lifetime! If the papers are correct in stating that you start on Saturday
for Madeira to meet her, let me wish you bon voyage.
"Ever yours very sincerely,
"(Signed) ALBERT EDWARD."
The Princess of Wales had already written as follows:
"MY DEAR GEORGIE,
"I saw in yesterday's Times your touching appeal for poor,
unfortunate, forsaken Mafeking, in which I have taken the liveliest interest
during all these months of patient and brave endurance. I have therefore
great pleasure in enclosing £100 for the benefit of the poor nuns and other
inhabitants. I hope very soon, however, they will be relieved, and I trust
poor sister Sarah will be none the worse for all she has gone through during
her forced captivity. Many thanks for sending me that beautifully drawn-up
report of your Yeomanry Hospital. How well you have explained everything!
Hoping to meet soon,
"Yours affectionately,
"(Signed) ALEXANDRA."[41]
Some fourteen months after my return home a Gazette appeared
with the awards gained during the early part of the war, and great was my
delight to find I had been selected for the coveted distinction of the Royal
Red Cross. The King had previously nominated Lady Georgiana Curzon and
myself to be Ladies of Grace of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, which
entitles its members to wear a very effective enamel locket on a black bow;
but, next to the Red Cross, the medal which I prize most highly is the same
which the soldiers received for service in South Africa, with the well-known
blue and orange striped ribbon. This medal was given to the professional
nurses who were in South Africa, but I think I was, with one other
exception, the only amateur to receive it, and very unworthy I felt myself
when I went to St. James's Palace with all the gallant and skilful
sisterhood of army nurses to share with them the great honour of receiving
the same from His Majesty in person.
FOOTNOTES:
[40]
Small kettles.
[41]
I am allowed to reproduce the foregoing letters by the gracious
permission of Their Majesties the King and Queen.
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