Complete Fictional Works of John Buchan (Illustrated)

by John Buchan

  Melgund was also an ardent fisherman, putting fishing as a sport next to hunting. He was constantly on the Tweed, on the Floors, or Makerstoun, or Bemerside waters. He chronicles the talk of George Wright, the fisherman, who considered that “London maun b’e a gran’ place for leddies — Hyde Park will be then: best cast, and they’ll use verra fine tackle there.”

  The Melgunds, having both passed their tests, became members of the London and the Wimbledon Skating Clubs. Mr. Algy Grosvenor, himself a finished skater, first instructed Lady Melgund in the art of combined hand-in-hand figure skating. A few years later the artificial ice rink, called “Niagara,” at Westminster, organized by Mr. Hwfa Williams, gave them endless amusement and exercise. It became the daily resort of skating friends, while a periodical fancy dress or masked carnival produced amazing costumes and baffling incognitos. Melgund was one of the few hunting men who welcomed an occasional frost, if not too protracted: it gave his hunters a rest, and he and his wife would skate all day long as well as by moonlight. A spectator, after watching Lady Melgund’s rapid and dashing turns, said that he considered her style was “abandoned,” while an old Scots minister, in a subdued religious voice, spoke of it as “unear-r-thly.”

  The year 1890 was remarkable for its literary activity, and Melgund wrote several articles and papers dealing with the mounted rifleman, of whom he had become the chief prophet. He took part in a symposium in the United Service Magazine, where he championed the cause of mounted infantry as against cyclists and ordinary yeomanry, and secured Wolseley’s assent to his views. September was taken up with the Army Manoeuvres, on which he wrote a detailed report, full of shrewdness and good sense: —

  “The regiment leaders in our Brigade were good; French of the 19th a first-rate soldier, excellent in all I saw him do, decided and full of dash. Of the commanding officers on the other side I had little opportunity of forming an opinion, with the exception of Hutton of the Mounted Infantry. He thoroughly knows his work and appreciates the role of Mounted Infantry, and he placed his men capitally. He is one of those of whom there are not enough, who try to see things without prejudice and who take a big view. Of the gunner officers I saw little. The general result has been to show how much we are in want of opportunities for giving officers instruction in the leading of anything like large masses of men. The scouting was extremely well done — a branch of the work to which officers accustomed to hunting will always readily take. Evelyn Wood was the heart and soul of the whole thing. The manoeuvres are entirely due to him, and the cavalry officers I have spoken to as to the position he has held during the manoeuvres heartily acknowledge the good turn he has done them.”

  On 4th November Mrs. Grey,* Lady Melgund’s mother, died.

  Lord Melgund in 1890 (Photo by Chancellor)

  “If ever any one was perfect she was,” her son-inlaw wrote, “never thinking of herself, so good and kind to every one. It is a great break-up at St. James’s. She had lived there for forty years, and it has been a very happy gathering place for all of us. The old house is full of associations. We were married from there, and Ruby and Violet were both born there.”

  * Daughter of Sir Thomas Farquhar, Bart.

  Queen Victoria gave Lady Melgund permission to stay on at St. James’s Palace in view of her approaching confinement: —

  BALMORAL CASTLE, November 16, 1890.

  “DEAR MARY, — I must write you a line to thank you for your two kind letters, and to say how truly pleased I am to feel that my offer to you to remain for the expected event at St. James’s Palace is a convenience and comfort to you. But what a trying time it will be to you without your beloved mother, one of the kindest and most unselfish of parents!

  “I hope I may see you soon some morning at Windsor.

  “Ever yours affectionately,

  “VICTORIA, R.I.”

  On February 12, 1891, a son was born. The Queen stood godmother, and one of the godfathers was Lord Wolseley, who wrote that he would be proud to undertake the duty, and hoped that the boy “may be as good and as brave a soldier as his father.” The child was christened in the Chapel Royal on 25th March with the names Victor Gilbert Lariston Garnet-Lariston after the old Liddesdale home of the Elliots.

  On the coming of the new generation followed the departure of the old, for on 17th March Lord Minto died. While leading a quiet country life, he had always taken an alert interest in public affairs. His nature was rare and fine; his extreme modesty, his complete indifference to his own advancement, and his dread of ostentation inclined him to conceal, even from those nearest to him, his public and private services. It was only those who actually worked with him who knew his quality. One of these was the late Lord Moncreiff, who wrote thus of him: “His temperament was unassuming, as his manners were courteous and unobtrusive, but he was eminently and essentially a man having a pervading interest and influence in public affairs. . . . There were, during the many years Lord Minto was a member of the House of Commons, few public questions affecting Scotland on which he had not left the mark of his vigorous thought. . . . He never laid himself out as a candidate for place or for self-seeking of any kind. He preferred independence and unostentatious usefulness. These he cultivated to the end in his household and in his circle of friends, as well as in such more public duties as his position prompted him to discharge.” Like the rest of his family he was a firstrate rider to hounds; and he appeared on horseback almost on the eve of his death.

  II

  On succeeding to the peerage Minto was asked to bring forward in the House of Lords the grievances of “purchase officers” and press for a Royal Commission on the subject, but he was too busy with his Volunteer work to take his seat yet awhile. To his deep regret it was found necessary to disband the Border Rifles, but his own Brigade was increased by two battalions. In his journal at this time he tells a story which proves that the discipline of these Borderers was not equally good off and on parade: “Met a volunteer sauntering in the plantation with his arm round the neck of a very pretty girl, which he never attempted to remove, but saluted gravely with the other hand, both looking me full in the face and neither seeing anything in the least odd in it. I felt it would have been brutal to interfere, the thing was so gravely ridiculous.”

  In August 1892 Minto, with Colonel Wardrop of the 12th Lancers, attended the French Cavalry Manoeuvres at Tarbes and filled a note-book with comments, which show how acute and ardent was his study of his profession. He was especially interested in the details of equipment, the distribution of weight on the saddle, and the handling of the horses. He thought the horses good and the men a fine, sturdy lot, but the leadership poor. There seemed to be little speed and initiative, and the faults were all on the slow side. One comment has been fully justified in recent years: “To a great extent I believe we are wrong in our estimate of the French character. I think there is much more moderation and common sense, and far less flightiness than we are accustomed to give them credit for. We judge too much by Paris, and Paris probably does take the lead, but the average Frenchman is no scatter-brain.”

  Early in 1893 Lord Roberts returned from India. The journal comments: —

  “A large gathering to receive him, nearly all Indian soldiers, and a great many old friends were there, amongst them Sir Hugh Gough, whom I don’t think I have met since Afghanistan in 1879. Seeing them all reminded me of a party at the India Office in the summer of ‘80. I had just taken off my coat when I met one of the Plowdens. It was before Roberts’s march to Kandahar, and Donald Stewart had just got the chief command at Kabul, going over Roberts’s head. Plowden said to me, ‘I am so glad to see Stewart has the command at Kabul; people have found out: now what Roberts is — we never thought much of him in India.’ I rather shut him up and went upstairs. The first person I met was Wolseley. He said, ‘I am so sorry to see Donald Stewart has gone over Roberts’s head at Kabul.’ I answered, ‘But I suppose, Sir, he is his senior officer.’ ‘I don’t care about senior officer,’ said Wolseley,
‘I have watched Roberts’s career now for a long time, and I’ll tell you what it is, he is a very fine fellow.’

  “Roberts has, I believe, expressed a wish to make Wolseley’s acquaintance, as apparently they don’t know each other. I am, I suppose, among the very few who are friends with both. It will do much good it they show that there is room in the world for two great men, and that though they may differ in opinion they are at any rate above petty jealousies. Both men are very much to be admired; Wolseley, I should say, the better read of the two, very agreeable and the best of friends; but with all his good fellowship I never think he inspires the individual love of every one as Roberts does. Charming man as he is, he has not the same personal influence. The men worship Roberts. I doubt if they care much for Wolseley personally, though they know he is a leader they can rely on. Myself, I was surprised, when reading his Life of Marlborough, at his power of description and the poetry and romance of his nature. I should not have given him credit for appreciating the picturesque side of life as much as he evidently does. He sets great value upon the sympathetic nature so important for a great leader, and this is always the quality I have doubted his possessing. He has it very markedly as regards his friends, for no one has drawn more sincere admirers towards him than he has, but I have always thought him lacking in the magnetism which captivates the masses. It is a remarkable book, and the country can be proud of the man who wrote it, for it is refreshing to see all through it the admiration of the writer for patriotism, high spirit and heroism, and his contempt for the party politician and the time-server, and for the tendency which exists now in certain circles of sneering at the Volunteer, who is ready to expose himself more than his duty requires. But indeed I believe that, owing to Wolseley and those who think like him, much of this sneering tendency is already dying out. One likes to know that we are at least possessed of one distinguished man who has the courage to say what many feel as to the pettiness and time-serving of men in high places, and their apparent inability to realize that those who form our public life can never be deemed great unless they lead, and are not led about themselves by every whim of the multitude.”

  Minto’s life in 1893 was a busy one, for, apart from work in connection with his estate, he had his duties as a Brigadier, and was much in request to umpire at manoeuvres and attend military discussions, while he was constantly being asked to write on army subjects. In June he made his maiden speech in the House of Lords on the employment of discharged soldiers, a matter on which he was constantly bombarding the War Office. His speech, which was carefully prepared and well received, urged that “situations in Government Offices should be open preferentially for the employment of such discharged non-commissioned officers and soldiers of good character as may be able to pass the requisite examination.” He pointed out that in an army raised by voluntary recruiting there must be some inducement to enlist; that it was impossible to expect from the Treasury a rate of pay high enough to be an attraction as compared with the rates of pay in civilian life; but that much might be done in ensuring for a soldier a career after his discharge, and fitting him for it by education while still serving in the ranks.

  Home Rule was once more the question of the hour, and though Minto was inclined to leave ordinary politics alone and stick to his own subject, the journal is full of comments on the events of the moment: —

  “Just back from the House of Commons after hearing the closing debate on the Home Rule bill, the remaining clauses of which have been passed without discussion according to closure rule. A most disgraceful scene occurred arising out of a speech of Chamberlain’s, during which one of the Irish members shouted at him as ‘Judas’: a free fight ensued and many blows were struck, the Speaker was sent for, and after much heated discussion the matter dropped. I should think at least some forty or fifty members were engaged in a violent melee in which it was difficult to say who actually took the lead. One felt utterly ashamed for one’s country: nothing could have been more disgraceful, and one wonders if we shall go on for ever under the rule of such an assembly. The Speaker was very dignified and was listened to with respect. . . .

  “Hartington at his meetings at Dalkeith and Edinburgh a little while ago referred most strongly to Ulster’s right to resist, alluding to our rebellion against James II. and to the possibility of civil strife in England as well as in Ireland, and instancing the action of our ancestors against James as an example to us of what we might be bound to do for the sake of the country. Such words from a man certainly not given to romance, and carefully weighing what he says, should bring the position of affairs home to everybody. We are, I believe, on the verge of very great danger. The leading men on our side consider Ulster justified in armed resistance should any attempt be made to enforce Home Rule, and such resistance might not be confined to Ireland, for passions would be roused in England too which would appeal to force. I cannot believe that the dangers in the air are fully known to the Government. Only the other day Antrim wrote to me for advice as to the organization and drilling of men (I sent him the Mounted Infantry organization as best suited for hastily raised infantry), and Saunderson last year spoke to me more than once as to my serving in Ulster should matters come to a climax.

  “Within the last few days Lewis Dawnay has issued a circular in Yorkshire (backed by a letter of Saunderson’s) asking for names of those willing to enroll themselves in a corps of gentlemen, should occasion arise to assist the people of Ulster. Though I think this ill-judged and premature, it shows the way the wind blows and the feeling that is already stirring, and as such may perhaps do good.”

  In the beginning of 1894 we find Minto re-reading his old journal of the Turkish War and reflecting on the changes of time. “I couldn’t be happier than I am now, and there is much to do here to occupy me — but still the active life and the insight into great events have as much charm as ever, and I hope they always will have.” He lamented that as a country gentleman he had no leisure for reading, the days being filled with an endless routine of small duties. “I don’t waste time, but looking into everything myself really fills most of the day. I suppose it is good work — in fact it is a profession, and, with Brigade work, gives me plenty to do, but it leads nowhere, and, well — right or wrong, I long to be in the stream of the world of history again.” He adds Loyally, “All the same home here is perfection.”

  It was a year full of great interest: —

  “March 6th. — Gladstone has resigned, and yesterday it was announced that Rosebery had accepted the Premiership. I hope now we may consider that Gladstone has finally given up the reins of Government. He has done his country an immensity of harm at home and abroad, and I hope his countrymen will never be tempted by the recollection of his brilliant oratory to forget this. Certainly the power he wielded at one time was enormous, not only at home but amongst many European races. I always remember, when crossing the Balkans and sleeping in a small place called Kasan at the summit of the pass, a deputation of Bulgarians coming to see me to talk over Mr. Gladstone’s speeches, he having then taken up the cause of Bulgaria. As I had not seen the papers for weeks I could say little, but the Bulgarian villagers seemed well up in them. Rosebery, who succeeds him, I used to know well in old racing days; he was very amusing and sarcastic, but I never see him now. He has always impressed me as very ambitious, very able, and capable of playing a game he does not quite believe in himself.”

  During the summer came an unexpected chance of service abroad: —

  “June 5th. — The last few days have been very interesting and puzzling ones for me. Last Wednesday we dined at the old Duchess of Marlborough’s. I took Lady Loch in to dinner. I had not known her or him before, but after the ladies left the room he said to me, ‘Will you come with me to South Africa on Saturday?’ I said I could certainly not come as a loafer, in no position, to which he answered he would take me as military secretary. He spoke to me again about it before we left and asked me to think it over. I thought the matter well over, and wrot
e to him next day that I had been a great deal away from home in connection with different expeditions and campaigns, and now that I had succeeded my father I felt rather a fear of getting too much of a roving reputation, and believed that possibly, though it was very humdrum here, I might perhaps eventually be the better for remaining in England, for a time at any rate. But I must say I am just as eager to be off as ever I was. . . .

  “On Thursday evening I met him again at a party at the Fifes’, and he pressed me very strongly to come and to send him a telegram next morning. I, however, determined not to go, and on Saturday morning wrote to thank him before he started. It has been a most difficult question to decide for many reasons, but the chief ones I considered for and against going were those I have named, and every time I thought it over I came to the conclusion that so far as ambition was concerned it was better not to go; but the temptation to be employed again, and in the sort of work I like, was great. Of course, leaving home, and the bitter break it must be, was a heavy consideration, the pain one may give, the home duties one must leave: it is bound always to be a difficult question which way real duty leads, but no great country was ever made by those who feared sacrifice. It has all rather put me in mind of Cavagnari asking me to go with him to Kabul in 1879.”

  Only for a moment had he hesitated. Had he gone he might, like his brother-in-law Albert Grey, have fallen under the spell of the Rhodesian dream.

  In October, at the age of ninety-two, old Lord Grey died. He had been Lord John Russell’s Colonial Secretary. “There is an excellent account of Lord Grey’s career in the Times” the journal notes, “the last words of which aptly sum up what he was: ‘Men more brilliant and more original our days have seen. They have seen none more steadfast or more honourable.’ The Greys are a wonderfully hard, long-lived race. John, a brother and a parson, is 82, wiry, and with an eye like a hawk. The other day, to amuse himself, he came down a canvas fire-escape from the top window, and, as he forgot to stick out his elbows to moderate the pace of his descent, he came down like a catapult, and nearly demolished the butler and servants waiting his arrival below!”