Honours from County of Essex—Visit to Balmoral—Cawdor Castle—Hughenden Manor—Promotion by selection disapproved—Entertained by the Bar of England—Forecast of Boer Rebellion.

I attended on the 20th of September the sale of Sir Thomas Lennard’s hunters at Belhus, then an annual event of much interest in the County, and it having been stated in the papers I should be there, many of the labouring classes came to see me. An elderly woman, who had walked many miles, pushing her way through the crowd round the show-ring, asked a policeman eagerly, “Which is ’im?” She had pictured in her mind an imposing heroic figure in a splendid uniform, and on my being pointed out, a middle-sized man in plain clothes, observed in a disappointed tone as she wiped her perspiring brow: “What, ’im kill all them Zulus! Why, my old man would clout un.”

On the 14th of October the County of Essex entertained me at Chelmsford, presenting me with a handsome Sword of Honour and a service of plate, and in a speech at dinner, while thanking the inhabitants of Essex, I replied to the adverse anonymous critics who had objected to my naming my comrades in previous speeches by explaining the necessity of bringing the Nation into closer touch with its private soldiers. I had long thought that with a Voluntary Army it was useless to expect the best results, unless where bravery and devotion to the interests of the country is concerned, all ranks receive consideration, and I deliberately acted upon the conviction, in spite of adverse criticism.202 A friend, the able editor of a newspaper, while remarking on my speeches in terms personally complimentary to me, observed: “Sir Evelyn Wood does not appear capable of perceiving the seamy side of his profession.” I was too fond of my friend to answer him in print, for I feel sure that if I had written to his paper he would have put in my letter, but, as I told him privately, the occasion was not one for bringing to notice the seamy side, of which there is, doubtless, in military life more than anyone could desire, but there are also many noble aspects in such a career; for, as I remarked in speaking of the death of Ronald Campbell, Coldstream Guards, “When the noise and excitement of a war is over, the soldier who has seen men die for each other, or for Duty’s sake, can never again be altogether unheroic in his life.”

I received in September a command to stay at Balmoral, and left town on the evening of the 8th. I was most graciously received by Her Majesty, who honoured me with her conversation throughout dinner, and again the next night, in addition to an hour’s interview each forenoon and afternoon, and then on until the 11th. My original invitation was for one night only, and when I was told on Thursday that I was expected to stop till Saturday I was much concerned, as I had promised to visit Lord Cawdor, who was naturally anxious to hear about his son, Ronald Campbell; and moreover, Sunday travelling is practically impossible in Scotland. The Equerry-in-Waiting informed me that it would not be etiquette for me to express any wish in the matter, so I approached Lady Ely, who was equally determined that she would not speak to the Queen, and explain my position. I then said, “Well, Lady Ely, then I shall,” believing that the Queen, who had been so gracious, would not wish to put me to inconvenience, or disappoint Lord Cawdor. This had the desired effect, and when Her Majesty sent for me in the afternoon she opened the conversation by saying, “I believe it will not be convenient to you to remain till Saturday?” and I replied, “Most inconvenient, Your Majesty.” I was greatly impressed, not only by the Queen’s accurate judgment, but by her profound knowledge of details of the recent operations.

I went by Elgin to Nairn, and spent an interesting twenty-four hours with the family of my late friend. On my return south I received the following courteous letter from Lord Beaconsfield, and I went to Hughenden on the 23rd.

“Hughenden Manor, Sept. 15th, 1878.

“Dear Sir Evelyn,—The Queen wishes that I should see you, but it is not only in obedience to Her Majesty’s commands, but for mine own honour and gratification, that I express a hope that your engagements may permit you to visit Hughenden on the 23rd inst., and remain there until the following Friday.—Your faithful servant,

“Beaconsfield.”

There was a house party, those interesting me most after my host being Mr. Edward Stanhope, then known as “Young Stanhope,” afterwards Secretary of State for War, and Sir Drummond Wolff. Lord Beaconsfield asked me to come and stroll with him on the terrace the morning after my arrival,—a walk which we shared with his peacocks,—and he asked me many questions about soldiers and South Africa, I endeavouring to parry his queries respecting Sir Bartle Frere. In the course of his conversation he expressed unbounded admiration for Sir Garnet Wolseley, telling me that when he embarked for South Africa he had said to him: “Now, I trust you—you trust me.” Then passing on to other soldiers, he asked if I had known Colonel Home. I explained that I had lived for many weeks in a hut of leaves on the West Coast of Africa with him, and, moreover, had been associated with him at Aldershot. His Lordship said: “That man had the biggest brain of any soldier I have met.” I agreed heartily, but then Lord Beaconsfield rather spoilt the value of his judgment by observing, “Why, it was Home who made me acquire Cyprus!” Home foresaw clearly that England must, for the sake of India, acquire a predominant interest in Egypt, and at one time had made a plan for building a gigantic fort in the bed of the sea, three miles outside Port Said.

The second night, after the ladies had left the dining-room, somebody remarked on the news in the evening papers that Mr. Waddington had been appointed French Ambassador at the Court of St. James, and went on to say how extraordinary it was that the French found it necessary to nominate an Englishman to that position, appealing to Lord Beaconsfield for his opinion. His Lordship replied: “The fact is, the French have never had a native Frenchman worthy of the name of statesman.” I observed gently: “My Lord, have you forgotten Colbert?” He turned to me, saying somewhat sharply: “You don’t seem to be aware that Colbert was a Swiss!” I did not think it necessary to contradict my host, and a much older man, by stating the fact that, although educated in Switzerland, Colbert was born at Rheims, and submitted to the suppressing looks of my fellow guests, who chorused: “Yes, Colbert was a Swiss!” I was sitting next but one to His Lordship, and then in a low tone observed: “My Lord, how about Sully?” Sir Drummond Wolff from the end of the table called out: “What is that you are saying?” “Oh, nothing, I only made another suggestion;” but our host, drawing himself up, said in his slow, measured voice: “I now feel I made a rash and inaccurate statement. Sir Evelyn Wood challenged it, and I could not agree with him when he instanced Colbert, but he has now reminded me of Sully, who was not only a Frenchman, but a very great minister. I admit my mistake.”

In the drawing-room, later in the evening, Drummond Wolff came up to me and said: “I say, how on earth did you manage to remember Sully?” “When I was small,” I replied, “my parents were poor, and we had few toys, but in our nursery there was a French history book, The Kings and Queens of France, and I often looked at a picture of Sully standing at the door with a portfolio of papers, having surprised Henri IV., who was on his hands and knees carrying two of Gabrielle D’EstrÉes’ children on his back.”

I saw by Lord Beaconsfield’s manner that if I stayed till the end of the week, as I had been invited, I should never escape a searching inquisition respecting Sir Bartle Frere’s action in declaring war, so on Wednesday night I asked my host’s permission to take my leave next morning. As we were going to bed, I said: “You will allow me to thank you, and say good-bye, as I am going by the earliest train.” He replied: “There is no earlier train than 8.23, and as I am always up at 7 I shall have the pleasure of seeing you.” As this was just what I wanted to avoid, I told the butler I would have my breakfast at 7.30 in my bedroom, and at that hour rang, and asked why it had not been brought. He answered that it was in an ante-room, close at hand, where a fire had been lighted. I had scarcely sat down before I heard the measured step of his Lordship on the stairs, and as he came in, after greeting him, I asked him whether he had read an article in a magazine which I had open on the table. He replied somewhat shortly, “No,” but he had come to talk to me about other matters, and he proceeded to put many searching questions as to Sir Bartle Frere’s procedure with the Zulu nation.

We all knew in December that the Government had refused General Thesiger the reinforcements he had asked, as the Cabinet wished to avoid war, but the High Commissioner and the General were of opinion that matters had then gone too far to avoid it. Lord Beaconsfield asked me: “Will you please tell me whether, in your opinion, the war could have been postponed for six months?” “No, sir.” “For three months?” “I think possibly.” “For one month?” “Certainly.” “Well, even a fortnight would have made all the difference to me, for at that time we were negotiating with Russia at San Stefano, and the fact of our having to send out more troops stiffened the Russian terms.” “But, sir,” I said, “you surely do not mean to say the sending out of four or five battalions and two cavalry regiments altered our military position in Europe?” He said: “Perhaps not,—but it did in the opinion of the Russians, who imagined we were sending an Army Corps.” He then went on to say: “You are young; some day you may be abroad, and let me urge you to carry out, not only the letter of the Cabinet’s orders, but also the spirit of its instructions.” Two years later, after Majuba, I had to ponder often on this admonition.

On the 16th October the Military Secretary informed me that the Colonial Office had brought to the notice of the Commander-in-Chief “the very valuable Political services” I had rendered when in command of a column in Zululand. Sir Bartle Frere had brought the services of my friend Colonel Pearson also to notice, and the fact that the only result in my case was an expression of His Royal Highness’s gratification, which caused him to make a note in the records of the War Office, did not detract from the pleasure I had on reading of Pearson’s being made a Knight Commander of the Order of Saint Michael and St. George.

There were many discussions amongst the Heads of the Army on the question of my promotion. His Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief was conscientiously opposed to it, and indeed to all promotion by selection, having been a consistent advocate of advancement by seniority. He held an officer should command a battalion when he was forty, but on the other hand maintained that a Colonel should become a Major-General only by seniority. He said more than once, “Men are much of a muchness; I find officers very much on a par.”203 Lord Penzance’s committee pointed out, however, that if the system advocated by the Commander-in-Chief was maintained the average of Majors-General would be sixty-four. The senior Staff officers appointed by him naturally reflected his views. There was, however, a Colonel of very decided opinions then in the office, for whom the Adjutant-General sent, and asked: “Would you object to Evelyn Wood being put over your head?” He replied: “Do you consider he would make a good general?” “Yes, his reports are good.” “Then, sir, I think you should promote him; and having said that, may I further add I do not think you have any right to ask my opinion.”

Sir Garnet Wolseley did his utmost to get me promoted on Public grounds. In addressing the Commander-in-Chief from South Africa, on the 18th July,204 he wrote: “I earnestly hope that Your Royal Highness will be enabled to recommend Colonel Wood to Her Majesty for the permanent rank of Major-General, not as a reward for what he has done, but in the interests of the Queen’s Army, and of the State.” The Chief, ignoring the Public grounds question, replied: “Evelyn Wood I know as an excellent man.... I have my doubts, however, whether Wood has not received his full reward with a K.C.B. and a Good Service Pension.” The Commander-in-Chief was misinformed as to the rewards he mentioned. He had given me the Good Service Pension in March 1879, on General Thesiger’s strong remonstrance that I was the only officer unrewarded for the Gaika War, and the K.C.B. was given for my services in Northern Zululand, before the battle of Kambula.205

On the 1st November the Bar of England gave me a dinner in the Middle Temple Hall, the first, I believe, to a soldier, unless we consider Drake belonged to both Services, at which the Lord Chancellor paid me a gracious compliment: “The law is silent in the midst of Arms, yet, as we see to-night, the lawyer and soldier combined can, after Arms have been laid aside, speak with the eloquence which befits the one and the vigour which characterises the other.”

Early in December 1879 my mother’s health gave us cause for anxiety, and on the 13th of that month my sister, Lady Lennerd, in whose house she was staying, said: “I am afraid that you are feeling very ill.” “Yes, very ill!” “Would you like us to telegraph for Evelyn to come and see you?” “Yes, please do so.” As my sister was leaving the room, mother called her back, and asked: “What time is it?” “About six.” “Then please write on the telegram, ‘Not to be delivered till 11.15 p.m.’” “Why?” my sister asked. “Because he is giving an important dinner party at his Club, and if the telegram goes now he will leave the table, and it will spoil the party.” I was, in fact, entertaining the Attorney-General Sir John Holker, and some friends who had thrown themselves warmly into the dinner given to me by the Bar. At 11.15 the telegram was placed in my hands as I was saying good-night to my guests. My brother was with me, and we left by a luggage train at 2 a.m., reaching Belhus early on Sunday. My mother spoke to me about ten o’clock that night quite rationally, asking about the dinner party, and died at five o’clock next morning, so painlessly that I was unable to credit the fact that she had passed away. Her last act of unselfishness was only similar to her conduct throughout her life. There are few men, I suppose, who remain in quite as close touch with mother and sisters when they marry as they were while bachelors; but in my case, with the mother, as with two sisters, my marriage only brought one more into the circle of devoted relations.

I assumed command of the Belfast District on the 22nd of December, and to this day am ignorant why I was sent there, as the Commander-in-Chief had given me on the 29th of October the command of the Chatham District, which I took over on the 12th of January 1880, from General (now Sir) Edward Bulwer, brother of Sir Henry Bulwer, who was Governor of Natal in 1879. My only difference of opinion with the General was as to the terms on which I purchased horses, furniture, et cetera, concerning which he showed much more consideration for me than for his own pecuniary interests.

When Her Imperial Majesty the Empress EugÉnie read in the newspapers the account of the Fishmongers’ banquet on the 30th of September, and the allusion to her noble son beautifully expressed in Shakespeare’s language, she sent for me, and, after several prolonged interviews, I was commanded to Windsor, where Her Majesty was graciously pleased to honour me with the charge of the Empress on a journey she was undertaking to the spot where her gallant son perished. The Queen enjoined on me the greatest care for the safety of her Sister, and I replied I could only accept full responsibility if H.I.M. the Empress would follow my instructions as if she were a soldier in my command. This was arranged, and on the 25th of March the Empress sailed from Southampton for Cape Town and Durban.

Her Imperial Majesty had sent me a cheque for £5000, desiring me to purchase everything required, and to defray all charges. I handed back on our return to the Empress’ Secretary £3600. I was allowed to take my Aide-de-Camp, Captain Arthur Bigge,206 and Lieutenant Slade207 as an extra Aide-de-Camp. Both these officers had distinguished themselves by the courage with which they fought their guns in the open at Kambula twelve months earlier. The Marquis de Bassano, Lady Wood, and the Honourable Mrs. Ronald Campbell, the widow of my Staff officer and friend who fell leading so determinedly at the Inhlobane, Dr. Scott of the Army Medical Department, two maids in the service of the Empress, Walkinshaw, my bugler, who had served with me in 1878 and 1879, and a complete establishment of servants, made up the party.

When we reached Cape Town, I had communications from well-educated acquaintances in the old Colony and Natal, loyal to our Government from conviction and personal interest. I wrote to my uncle on the 20th April, after an interview with a Dutch gentleman: “From what this gentleman told me, and from what I learn from other sources, it is clear to me that affairs in South Africa are in a very unsatisfactory state. Joubert and Kruger are now in this Colony agitating amongst the Colony Boers for the restoration of the Transvaal. There are many members of the Cape House whose seats depend on the vote, and thus pressure is brought on the Ministry here. I do not suppose we shall restore the Transvaal: if we do, we shall be obliged to re-annex it in ten years, for the sake of both Whites and Blacks. If it is not to be restored, the cause of order and progress will be greatly strengthened by the Imperial Ministers saying, ‘We cannot restore the Transvaal.’” I suggested he should tell some of his friends in the Cabinet what I had learnt. He had long before resigned his seat on the Woolsack, owing to failing vision, but was on intimate terms with his former colleagues.