XII. THE BOER WAR
On May 4, 1899, at Marion, Massachusetts, Richard was
married to Cecil Clark, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John M.
Clark of Chicago. After the marriage Richard and his wife
spent a few weeks in Marion and the remainder of the summer in
London and Aix-les-Bains.
MARION, May 28th, 1899.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
You sent me such a good letter about the visit of the
three selected chorus girls. But what was best, was about
your wishing to see me. Of course, you know that I feel that
too. I would have it so that we all lived here, so that Dad
could fish, and Nora and Cecil could discuss life, and you and
I could just take walks and chat. But because that cannot be,
we are no further away than we ever were and when the pain to
see you comes, I don't let it hurt and I don't kill it either
for it is the sweetest pain I can feel. If sons will go off
and marry, or be war-correspondents, or managers, it does not
mean that Home is any the less Home. You can't wipe out
history by changing the name of a boulevard, as somebody said
of the French, and if I were able to be in two places at once,
I know in which two places I would be here with Cecil at
Marion, and at Home in the Library with you and Dad and The
Evening Telegraph, and Nora and Van Bibber. You will never
know how much I love you
all and you must never give up trying to comprehend it. God
bless you and keep you, and my love to you every minute and
always.
DICK.
Late in January, 1900, Richard and his wife started on
their first great adventure together to the Boer War.
Arriving at Cape Town, Richard left his wife there and, acting
as correspondent with the British forces for the New York
Herald and London Mail, saw the relief of
Ladysmith.
After this he returned to Cape Town, with the intention of
joining Lord Roberts in his advance on Pretoria. But on
arriving at Cape Town he learned that Lord Roberts did not
intend to move for three weeks, and so decided to say farewell
to the British army and to return to London in a leisurely and
sightseeing fashion along the east coast. It was after they
were well started on this return voyage that Richard conceived
the idea of leaving the ship at Durban, going to Pretoria,
and, as he expressed it, "watch the Boers fighting the same
men I had just seen fighting them."
R. M. S. Scot
February 4th, 1900.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
A great change has come since I wrote you from Madeira.
We are now on Summer seas and have regulated the days so that
they pass very pleasantly — not that we do not want to be on
land — I never so much wanted it — Somers is with us and is
such a comfort. He is even younger than he used to be and so
quick and courteous and good tempered. He is like a boy off
on a holiday — I think he is very much in love
with his wife, but in spite of himself he is glad to get a
holiday, and like all of us he will be so much more glad when
he is homeward bound. They threatened to shut us out of our
only chance of putting foot on land at Madeira — In the first
place, we were so delayed by the storm that we arrived at
eight o'clock at night, so that we missed seeing it in its
beauty of flowers and palms. And then it was so rough that
they said it was most unsafe for us to attempt to go ashore.
It was a great disappointment but I urged that every one loved
his own life, and if the natives were willing to risk theirs
to sell us photographs and wicker baskets it was probably
safer than it looked — So we agreed to die together, and with
Somers got our rain coats, and the three of us leaped into a
row boat pulled by two Portugese pirates and started off
toward a row of lamps on a quay that seemed much lower than
the waves. The remainder on the ship watched us disappear
with ominus warnings — We really had a most adventurous
passage — towards shore the waves tossed us about like a
lobster pot and we just missed being run down by a coal barge
and escaped an upset over the bow anchor chain of a ship. It
was so close that both Somers and I had our coats off and I
told Cecil to grab the chain — But we weathered it and landed
at a high gangway cut in the solid rock the first three steps
of which were swamped by the waves. A rope and chain hung
from the top of the wharf and a man swung his weight on this
and yanked us out to the steps as the boat was on the wave.
The rain beat and the wind roared and beautiful palms lashed
the air with their fronds — It was grand to get on shore once
again — At the end of the wharf we were hustled into a sled on
steel runners, like a hearse with curtains
around it and drawn by bullocks — The streets were all of
mosaic, thousands of little stones being packed together like
corn on a cob. Over this the heavy sledge was drawn by the
bullocks while a small boy ran ahead through the narrow
streets to clear the way — He had a feather duster made of
horse's tail as a badge of authority and he yelled some
strange cry at the empty streets and closed houses. Another
little boy in a striped jersey ran beside and assured us he
was a guide. It was like a page out of a fairy story. The
strange cart sliding and slipping over the stones which were
as smooth as ice, and the colored house fronts and the palms
and strange plants. The darkness made it all the more
unreal — There was a governor's palace buttressed and guarded
by sentinels in a strange uniform and queer little cafe's
under vines — and terraces of cannon, and at last a funny,
pathetic little casino. It was such a queer imitation of Aix
and Monte Carlo — There were chasseurs and footmen in
magnificent livery and stucco white walls ornamented with silk
shawls. Also a very good band and a new roulette table —
Coming in out of the night and the rain it was like a theatre
after the "dark scene" has just passed — There were some most
dignified croupiers and three English women and a few sad
English men and some very wicked looking natives in diamonds
and white waistcoats. We had only fifteen minutes to spare so
we began playing briskly with two shilling pieces Cecil with
indifferent fortune and Somers losing — But I won every time
and the croupiers gave me strange notes of the Bonco de
Portugal which I put back on the board only to get more of a
larger number — I felt greatly embarrassed as I was not a real
member of the club and I hated to blow in out of a hurricane
and take their money and sail away again — So I appealed to
one of the sad eyed Englishmen and he assured me it was all
right, that they welcomed the people from the passing steamers
who generally left a few pounds each with the bank. But the
more I spread the money the more I won until finally the whole
room gathered around. Then I sent out and ordered champagne
for everybody and spare gold to all the waiters and still
cashed in seventy-five dollars in English money. It was
pretty good for fifteen minutes and we went out leaving the
people open-eyed, and hitting the champagne bottles — It was
all a part of the fun especially as with all our gold we could
get nothing for supper but "huevos frite" which was all the
Spanish I could remember and which meant fried eggs — But we
were very wet and hungry and we got the eggs and some fruit
and real Madeira wine and then rowed out again rejoicing. The
pirates demanded their pay half way to the boat while we were
on the high seas but they had struck the very wrong men, and I
never saw a mutiny quelled so abruptly — Somers and I told
them we'd throw them overboard and row ourselves and they
understood remarkably well — The next day we were the admired
and envied of those who had not had the nerve "to dare to
attempt." It was one of the best experiences altogether we
had ever had and I shall certainly put Madeira on my silver
cup.
RICHARD.
After their arrival at Cape Town, where Richard arranged
for his wife to stay during his absence at the British front,
he started for Ladysmith, sailing on the same vessel on which
he had left England.
February 18th, 1900
On board Scot.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
I got off yesterday and am hoping to get to Buller before
Ladysmith is relieved. I could not get to go with Roberts
because Ralph has been here four months and has borne the heat
and burden of the day, so although I only came in order to be
with Roberts and Kitchener I could not ask to have Ralph
recalled — They wanted me with Roberts and I wanted it but
none of us could make up our minds to turn down Ralph. So I
am going up on this side track on the chance of seeing
Ladysmith relieved and of joining Roberts with Buller later.
I shall be satisfied if I see Ladysmith fall. Fortunately I
am to do a great deal of cabling for The Mail every day
and
that counts much more with the reading public than letters —
Cape Town is a dusty, wind ridden western town with a
mountain back of it which one man said was a badly painted
back drop — The only attractive thing about the town is this
mountain and a hotel situated at its base in perfectly
beautiful gardens. Here Cecil is settled. I got her a
sitting room and a big bedroom and The Mail agent or Pryor
pays her $150 a week and will take good care of her. It
really is a beautiful and comfortable hotel and grounds and
she has made many friends, and also I forced a pitch battle
with a woman who was rude to her when we visited the
hospital — So, as the hospital people were very keen to have
me see and praise their hospital they have taken up arms
against the unfortunate little bounder and championed Cecil
and me. Cecil had really nothing to do with it as you can
imagine — She only laughed but I gave the lady lots to
remember.
On the other hand every one is as kind and interested in Cecil
as can be. Mrs. Waldron whose son is Secretary to Milner and
his secretary were more than polite to each of us. Milner
spent the whole evening we were there talking to Cecil and not
to the lady we had had the row with, which was a pleasing
triumph. He sent me unsolicited a most flattering personal
letter to the Governor of Natal, saying that I had come to him
with my strong letters but that he had so enjoyed meeting me
that he wished to pass me on on his own account. Cecil asked
me what it was I had talked so much to him about and I asked
her if it were possible she couldn't guess that of course I
would be telling him how to run the colony. My advice was to
bombard Cape Town and make martial law, for the Cape Towners
are the most rotten, cowardly lot of rebels I ever imagined as
being possible. He seemed so glad to find any one who
appreciated that it was a queen's colony in name only and
said, "Mr. Davis, it is as bad as this — I can take a stroll
with you from these gardens (we were at the back of the
Government House) and at the end of our stroll we will be in
hostile territory."
We spent the last day after I had got my orders to join
Buller (who seemed very pleased to have me) calling on the
officials for passes together and they were in a great state
falling into their coats and dressing guard for her and were
all so friendly and hearty. The Censor seems to think I am a
sort of Matthew Arnold and should be wrapped in cotton, so
does Pryor The Mail agent who apologizes for asking me to
cable, which is just what I want to do. They are very
generous and are spending money like fresh air. I am to cable
letters to Cape Town, only to save three
days. So, now all that is needed is for something to happen.
Everything else is arranged. All I want is to see three or
four good fights and a big story like the relief of Ladysmith
and I am ready and anxious to get home. I shall observe them
from behind an ant hill — I don't say this to please you but
because I mean it. This is not my war and all I want is to
earn the very generous sums I have been offered and get home.
We are just off Port Elizabeth. I will go on shore and post
this there. With all love.
DICK.
Deal's Central Hotel, East London.
February 20th, 1900.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
We are stopping at every port now, as though the
Scot were a ferry boat. We came over the side to get here in
baskets with a neat door in the side and were bumped to the
deck of the tender in all untenderness. This is more like
Africa than any place I have seen. The cactus and palms
abound and the Kaffirs wear brass anklets and bracelets. A
man at lunch at this hotel asked me if I was R. H. D. and said
he was an American who had got a commission in Brabants
horse — He gave me the grandest sort of a segar and apparently
on his representation the hotel brought me two books to sign,
marked "Autographs of Celebrities of the Boer War." It seemed
in my case at least to be premature and hopeful.
Good luck and God bless you. This will be the last
letter you will get for ten days or two weeks, as I am now
going directly away from steamers. This one reaches you by a
spy gentleman who is to give it to Rene Bull of The Graphic
and who will post it in Cape
Town — He and all the other correspondents are abandoning
Buller for Roberts. Let 'em all go. The fewer the better, I
say. My luck will keep I hope.
DICK.
Imperial Hotel,
Maritzburg, Natal.
Feb. 23rd, 1900.
[DEAR MOTHER: — ]
I reached Durban yesterday. They paraded the band in my
honour and played Yankee Doodle indefinitely — I had corrupted
them by giving them drinks to play the "Belle of New York"
nightly. The English officers thought Yankee Doodle was our
national anthem and stood with their hats off in a hurricane
balancing on the deck of the tender on one foot — The city of
Durban is the best I have seen. It was as picturesque as the
Midway at the Fair — There were Persians, Malay, Hindoo,
Babu's Kaffirs, Zulu's and soldiers and sailors. I went on
board the Maine to see the American doctors — one of them
said he had met me on Walnut Street, when he had nearly run me
down with his ambulance from the Penna Hospital. Lady
Randolph took me over the ship and was very much puzzled when
all the hospital stewards called me by name and made
complimentary remarks. It impressed her so much apparently
that she and the American nurses I hadn't met on board came to
see me off at the station, which was very friendly. I have
had a horrible day here and got up against the British officer
in uniform and on duty bent — The chief trouble was that none
of them knew what authority he had to do anything — and I had
to sit down and tell them. I wonder with intelligence like
theirs that
their Intelligence Department did not tell them the Boers
fought with war clubs and spears. I bought a ripping pony and
my plan is to cut away from all my magnificent equipment and
try to overtake Buller before he reaches Ladysmith and send
back for the heavy things later. It is just a question of
minutes really and it seems hard to have come 1500 miles and
then to miss it by an hour — I arrive at Chievely tomorrow at
five — that is only ten miles from where Buller is to night, so
were it not for their d — — d regulations I could ride across
country and join them by midday but I bet they won't let me
and I also bet I'll get there in time. Of course you'll, know
before you see this. Marelsburg is the capital and its chief
industry is rickshaw's pulled by wild Kaffi's, with beads and
snake skins around them and holes in their ears into which
they stick segars and horn spoons for dipping snuff. The
women wear less than the men and have their hair done up in
red fungus.
Well, love to you all, to Nora and Dad and Chas,
and God bless you.
DICK.
February, 1900.
[DEAR DEAR MOTHER: — ]
I am here at last and counting the days when I shall get
away. War does not soothe my savage breast. I find I want
Cecil, and Jaggers, and Macklin to write, and plays to
rehearse. Without Cecil bored to death at Cape Town, I would
not mind it at all. I know how to be comfortable and on my
second day I beat all these men who have been here three
months in getting my news on the wire. For I am a news man
now, and have to collect horrid facts and hosts of casualties
and to find out whether it was the Dubblins
or the Durbans that did it and what it was they did. I was in
terrible fear that I would be too late to see the relief of
Ladysmith but I was well in time and saw a fight the first few
hours I arrived. It is terribly big and overwhelming like
eighty of Barnum circuses all going at once in eighty rings
and very hard to understand the geography. The Tugela is like
a snake and crosses itself every three feet so that you never
know whether you have crossed it yourself or not. Every one
is most kind and I am as comfortable as can be. Indeed I like
my tent so much that I am going to take it to Marion. It has
windows in it and the most amusing trap doors and pockets in
the walls and clothes lines and hooks and ventilators — It is
colored a lovely green — I have also two chairs that fold up
and a table that does nothing else and a bed and two lanterns,
3 ponies, one a Boer pony I bought for $12. from a Tommy who
had stolen it. I had to pay $125 each for the other two and
one had a sore back and the other gets lost in my saddle. But
war as these people do it bores one to destruction. They are
terribly dull souls. They cannot give an order intelligently.
The real test of a soldier is the way he gives an order. I
heard a Colonel with eight ribbons for eight campaigns scold a
private for five minutes because he could not see a signal
flag, and no one else could. It is not becoming that a
Colonel should scold for five minutes. Friday they charged a
hill with one of their "frontal" attacks and lost three
Colonels and 500 men. In the morning — it was a night
attack — when the roll was called only five officers answered.
The proper number is 24. A Captain now commands the regiment.
It is sheer straight waste of life through dogged stupidity.
I haven't seen a Boer yet except
some poor devils of prisoners but you can see every English
who is on a hill. They walk along the skyline like ships on
the horizon. It must be said for them that it is the most
awful country to attack in the world. It is impossible to
give any idea of its difficulties. However I can tell you
that when I get back to the center of civilization. Do you
know I haven't heard from you since I left New York on the
St. Louis. All your letters to London went astray. What
lots you will have to tell me but don't let Charley worry. I
won't talk about the war this time. I never want to hear of
it again.
DICK.
LADYSMITH. March 1st, 1899.
[DEAR CHAS:]
This is just a line to say I got in here with the first
after a gallop of twelve miles. Keep this for me and the
envelope. With my love and best wishes —
DICK.
LADYSMITH, March 3, 1900.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
The column came into town today, 2200 men, guns, cavalry,
ambulances, lancers, navy guns and oxen. It was a most cruel
assault upon one's feelings. The garrison lined the streets
as a saluting guard of honor but only one regiment could stand
it and the others all sat down on the curb only rising to
cheer the head of each new regiment. They are yellow with
fever, their teeth protruding and the skin drawn tight over
their skeletons. The incoming army had had fourteen days hard
fighting at the end of three months campaigning but were
robust and tanned ragged and
caked with mud. As they came in they cheered and the
garrison tried to cheer back but it was like a whisper.
Winston Churchill and I stood in front of Gen. White and
cried for an hour. For the time you forgot Boers and the
cause, or the lack of cause of it all, and saw only the side
of it that was before you, the starving garrison relieved by
men who had lost almost one out of every three in trying to
help them. I was rather too previous in getting in and like
every-one else who came from outside gave away everything I
had so that now I'm as badly off as the rest of them.
Yesterday my rations for the day were four biscuits and an
ounce of coffee and of tea, with corn which they call mealies
which I could not eat but which saved my horse's life. He is
a Boer pony I bought from a Tommy for two pounds ten and he's
worth both of the other two for which I paid $125 a piece.
Tomorrow the wagon carrying my supplies will be in and I can
get millions of things. It almost apalls me to think how
many. Especially clean clothes. I've slept in these for four
days. I got off some stories which I hope will read well. I
can't complain now that I saw the raising of this siege. But
I hope we don't stay still. I want to see a lot quickly and
get out. This is very safe warfare. You sit on a hill and
the army does the rest. My sciatica is not troubling me at
all. Love to you all and God bless you.
DICK.
LADYSMITH, March 4th, 1900.
[DEAR, DEAR MOTHER:]
Today I got the first letter I have had from you since we
left home. It was such happiness to see your
dear sweet handwriting again. It was just like seeing you for
a glimpse, or hearing you speak. I am so hungry for news of
Nora and Chas and you all. I know you've written, but the
letters have missed somehow. I sent yours right back to Cecil
who is very lonely at present. Somerset has gone to the front
and Jim — home — Blessed word! A little middy rode up to me
today and began by saying "I'm going home. I'm
ordered
there. Home — To England!" He seemed to think I would not
understand. He prattled on like a child saying what luck he
had had, that he had been besieged in Ladysmith and seen lots
of fighting and would get a medal and all the while he was
"just a middy." "But isn't it awful to think of our chaps
that were left on the ship" he said quite miserably. It is a
beastly dull war. The whole thing is so "class" and full of
"form" and tradition and worrying over "putties" and etiquette
and rank. It is the most wonderful organization I ever
imagined but it is like a beautiful locomotive without an
engineer.
The Boers outplay them in intelligence every day. The
whole army is officered by one class and that the dull one.
It is like the House of Peers. You would not believe the
mistakes they make, the awful way in which they sacrifice the
lives of officers and men. And they let the Boers escape. I
watched the Boers for four hours the other day escaping after
the battle of Pieters and I asked, not because I wanted them
captured but just as a military proposition "Why don't you
send out your cavalry and light artillery and take those
wagons?" The staff officer giggled and said "They might kill
us." I don't know what he meant; neither did he. However,
I'm sick of it but there's nothing else to talk of. I hate
all the people
about me and this dirty town and I wish I was back. And I'm
going too. I'll have started by the time you get this.
I mean to cut out of this soon but don't imagine I'm in
any danger. I'm taking d — -d good care to keep out of danger.
No one is more determined on that than I am. Dear Mother,
this is such a dull letter but you must forgive me. I was
never so homesick and bored in my life. It will be better
when I go out tomorrow in my green tent and leave this beastly
hole. I like the tent life, and the horses and being clean.
I've really starved here for four days and haven't had a clean
thing on me. God bless you all and dear Nora God bless her
and Chas and the Lone Fisherman.
DICK.
Outside Ladysmith.
5th March, 1900.
[DEAREST MOTHER:]
I was a brute to write as I did last night. But I was so
blue in that miserable town!!! It was so foul and dirty. The
town smelt as bad as Johnstown. My room in the so called
hotel stunk, the dirt was all over the floor and the servants
had to be paid to do everything even to bring you a towel — and
then I had no place to write or be alone, and nothing to eat —
The poor souls at my table who had been in the siege, when
they got a little bit of sugar or a can of condensed milk
would carry it off from the table as though it were a diamond
diadem — I did the same thing myself for I couldn't eat what
they gave me and so I corrupted the canteen dealer and bought
tin things — I've really never wanted tobacco so much
and food as I have here — to give away I mean, for it was
something wonderful to see what it meant to them. Three
troopers came into the dining room yesterday and asked if they
could buy some tea and were turned out so rudely that it
seemed to hurt them much more than the fact that they were
hungry: I followed them out and begged them to come back to
my verandah and have tea with me but they at first would not
because they knew I had witnessed what had happened in the
hotel. They belonged to a very good regiment and they had
been starved for four months. But in spite of their
independence I got them to my porch. I had just purchased at
awful prices a few delicacies like sugar and tobacco,
marmalade and a bottle of whiskey. So I gave them to them and
I never enjoyed anything so much — The poor yellow faced
skeletons ate in absolute silence still fighting with their
pride until I told them I was an American and was a canteen
contractor's friend — Then I gave them segars and it was too
pitiful — In our column, if you give a man something extra he
says a lot and swears it's the best drink or the best segar or
that you're the best chap he ever met — Just as I say it to
them when they give me things. But these starved bodies tried
to be very polite and conversational on every subject except
food — when I offered them the segars which could only be got
then at a dollar twenty-five a piece (they had not cost me
that as I had bought them in Cape Town for two cents apiece!)
What has Dad to say to that for economy? They accepted them
quite as though it was in Havana — and then leaned back and
went off into opium dreams — Imagine the first segar after
three months. I am out here now on a bluff, with two trees in
front and great hills with names
historical of the siege of Ladysmith — names which I refuse to
learn or remember — I am perfectly comfortable and were it not
for Cecil perfectly content — If she were only here it would
be perfectly magnificent — I have a retinue that would do
credit to the Warringtons in the Virginians — Three Kaffir
boys who refuse to yield to my sense of the picturesque and go
naked like their less effete brothers, two oxen and three
ponies, a little puppy I found starved in Ladysmith and fed on
compressed beef tablets. I call her Ladysmith and she sleeps
beside my cot and in my lap when I am reading — I have also a
beautiful tent with tape window panes, ventilators, pockets
inside, doors that loop up and red knobs; also, it is green so
that the ants won't eat it. Also two tables, two chairs, a
bath tub, two lanterns, and a cape cart — and a folding bed —
In Cuba I had two saddle bags and was just as clean and just
as happy. One boy does nothing but polish my boots and
gaiters and harness, so that I look as well as the officers
who are not much good at anything but that. I must tell you
what I think is the saddest story of the siege — They could
not feed the horses, so they kept part of them for scouting,
part to eat and drove 3,000 of them towards the Boers. Being,
well trained cavalry horses, they did not know how to eat
grass, so at bugle call the whole 3,000 came trotting back
again and sentries were placed at every street to stampede
them back into the veldt — One horse from one battery met out
in the prairie another horse that had been its gun mate in an
artillery regiment five years before in India and the two poor
things came galloping back side by side and passed the
sentries and into the lines and drew up beside their battery.
Another horse found its rider acting as sentry and
when the man tried to drive it away it thought he was playing
with it and kept coming back and finally the man brought it in
to the colonel and cried and asked if it might have half of
his rations of corn. Good night and God bless you all with
all my love.
DICK.
March 15th, 1900.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
I am on my way back to Cape Town. This seemed better
than staying with Buller who will not move for two or three
weeks. I shall either go straight up to Roberts, or we will
return to London. I have seen the relief of Ladysmith and got
a very good idea of it all, and I do not know but what I shall
quit now. I started in too late to do much with it and as it
is I have seen a great deal. It is neither an interesting
country nor an interesting war. But I don't have to stay here
to oblige anybody. If I do go up to Roberts it will only be
to stay for three weeks at the most and only then if there is
fighting. I won't go if he is resting as Buller is. So this
will explain why we start home so soon. I am very glad I
came. I would have been very sorry always if I had not, but
my heart is not in it as, of course, it was in our war.
Sometimes they fight all day using seven or eight regiments
and kill a terrible lot of fine soldiers and capture forty
Boer farmers and two women. It is not the kind of war I care
to report. "Nor mean to!" I cannot make a book out of what
little I've seen but I will come out about even. It has been
very rough on Cecil. Today I went to the Maine and asked
Lady Randolph to give me a lift down to Cape Town as the ship
gets there two days ahead of the Castle
Steamer. So, they were apparently very glad to have me and I
am going on Saturday. I like it on the ship where I have been
spending the day as it is fun taking care of the wounded and
listening to their stories. I am to write an article for her
next Anglo Saxon magazine on the Passing of the War
Correspondent. The idea is that he must either disappear
altogether like the Vivandiere or be allowed to do his work.
As it is now the Government forces him upon the Generals
against their will and so they get back by taking it out of
him. Either they should persuade the Government that their
objections to him are weighty and suppress him altogether, or
recognize him as a part of the outfit. I don't much care
which as I certainly would never again go with an English
army. I am sorry the letters home have been so dull but I
have had rather hard luck straight through, and the distances
are so very great and the time spent in covering them seems
very wasteful. I shall be glad I saw it because it is the
biggest thing as to scale that I ever saw of the sort, and I
could not have afforded to have missed being in it. It is the
first big modern war and all the conditions and weapons are
new. I don't think the English have learned anything by it,
because the fault lies entirely with their officers who are
all or nearly all of one class.
DICK.
March 25th, 1900.
Cape Town.
This is just to explain our plans and as they take a bit
of explaining this is meant for the Houses of Clark and of
Davis. So, pass it on — After Ladysmith was relieved Buller
decided he would not move
for a month, so I came back to join Roberts. I could not do
that on first arriving because there was a
Mail man with
him. I meant to do it later as a
Herald man, and to let
The Mail go. But on arriving here, having spent a week in
coming and having sold all my outfit at a loss, I found that
Roberts did not intend to move for three weeks either. So I
decided I had seen enough to justify my returning. There were
other reasons, the chief one being that the English irritated
me and I had so little sympathy with them that I could not
write with any pleasure of their work. My sporting blood
refused to boil at the spectacle of such a monster Empire
getting the worst of it from an untrained band of farmers — I
found I admired the farmers. So we decided to chuck it and go
to London. I would not have missed it for anything. I would
never have been satisfied, if we had not come. I have seen
much of the country and the people, and of the army and its
wonderful organization and discipline. I enjoyed two
battles — and the relief of Ladysmith is one of the things to
have seen, almost the best, if not the best. Every officer
and correspondent agrees that I got the pick of the fighting
and the "best story." By the way, I beat all the London
papers in getting out the news by one day. At least, so
Pryor,
The Mail manager tells me. The paper was very much
pleased. We have now decided to come home by the East Coast.
It was Cecil's idea and wish and I was only too glad to do it.
She says we certainly will never come to this country again.
God help us if we do — and that it would be criminal to spend
seventeen blank days on the West coast when we could fill in
the entire trip North on the East Coast at many ports. It is
a rather complicated trip as one has to change frequently but
it will be a great thing to have seen. Cecil has really seen
nothing at Cape Town and on this trip she will be paid for all
the boredom that has gone before. I have been over part of it
and am sure. Durban alone is one of the most curious cities I
ever saw. It is like the Midway at the Fair. I want her to
have some fun out of this. She has been so unselfish and fine
all through and I hope I can make the rest of the adventure to
her liking — It is sure to be for after Delagoa Bay it is all
real Africa not the shoddy "colonial" shopkeepers' paradise
that we have here. And we are going to stop off at Zanzibar
for some time where we have letters to everybody and where
Cecil is to draw the Sultan and I am to play him the "Typical
Tune of Zanzibar." You will see by our route that we spend
two days or a day at many places and so shall get a good idea
of the country. The
Konig is a 5,000 ton ship and we have
two cabins — From Port Said we will run up to Cairo to get a
dinner and then over to Constantinople to see Lloyd Griscom
and the city which Cecil has never visited. Then to Paris by
way of the Orient Express. Then London and back with Charley
to Aix. I feel sure that one more course there will cure my
leg for always. As it is it has not touched me once even
during the campaign when I was wet and had to climb hills, and
at Ladysmith, where I had no food for a week. Of course, if
we get tired on the way up we may go straight on from Port
Said to Marseilles and so to London. It seems funny to look
upon Port Said as being at home, but from this distance it
seems as near New York as Boston — You will get this when we
reach Zanzibar or later and we will cable when we can.
DICK.
It was said at the time that Richard left the British
forces because the censors would not permit him to send out
the truth about Buller's advance, and that the English
officials resented his going to report the war from the Boer
side. The first statement my brother flatly denied, and the
fact that it was through the direct intervention of Sir Alfred
Milner, assisted by the efforts of our consul Adelbert S. Hay
at Pretoria, that Richard was enabled to reach the Boer
capital seems to prove the latter charge equally false.
Although throughout the war my brother's sympathies were with
the Boers, and in spite of the fact that the papers he
represented wanted him to report the war from the Boer side,
he persisted in going at first with the British forces. His
reasons were that he wished to see a great army, with all
modern equipment in action, and that practically all of his
English friends were with the British army. "My only reason
for leaving it", he wrote, "was the fact that I found myself
facing a month of idleness. Had General Buller continued his
advance immediately after his relief of Ladysmith I would have
gone with his column and would probably have never seen a
Boer, except a Boer prisoner."
Royal Hotel,
Durban, Natal.
April 5th, 1900.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
We arrived here to-day and got off in a special tug
together. We did the basket trick all right, although the
next time it came down a swell raised the tug and fractured
every one in the basket except Sangree and Rogers, the two New
York correspondents who were hanging on by the upper edges.
Cecil loved the place
which is the Midway Plaisance of cities and we had a good
lunch and managed to get into the hotel where there are over
twenty cots in the reading room, and hall. The Commandant
objected to our going to Praetoria and seemed inclined to
refuse us passes to leave Durban for Delagoa Bay. He also was
rather fresh to Cecil, so I called him down very hard, and
told him if he couldn't make up his mind whether we would go
or not, I'd wire to some others who would help him to make up
his mind quickly. He said I was at liberty to do that, so I
went out and burned wires over all of South Africa. As he
reads all the telegrams he naturally read mine and the next
morning he was as humble and white as a head waiter. But by
ten o'clock my wires began to bear fruit and he began to catch
it. Milner wired him to send us on at once and apologized to
us by another wire so all is well and we go vouched for by the
High Commissioner.
DICK.
PRETORIAmarion, May 18th, 1900.
[DEAR DAD — AND OTHERS OF THE CLARK AND DAVIS
FAMILIES:]
I have not had time to write such a long letter as this
one must be, as I have been working on my Ledger and
Scribner stories.
Cecil and I started to the "front," which was then May
4th, at Brandfort with Captain Von Loosberg, a German baron
who married in New Orleans and became an American citizen and
who is now in command of Loosberg's Artillery in the Free
State. The night we left, the English took Brandfort, so we
decided to go only as far as Winburg. The next morning
the train despatcher informed us Winburg was taken, so we
decided to go to Smalldeel, but that went during the
afternoon, so we stopped at Kronstad. From there, after a
day's rest, we went to Ventersberg station, and rode across to
Ventersberg town, about two hours away, and put up in Jones's
Hotel. The next day we went down to the Boer laagers on the
Sand river and met President Steyn on the way. He got out of
his Cape Cart and gave Cecil a rose and Loosberg his field
glasses, which Cecil took from Loosberg in exchange for her
own Zeiss glass, and he gave me a drink and an interview. He
also gave us a letter to St. Reid, who had established an
ambulance base on Cronje's farm, telling him to give Cecil
something to sleep upon. The, Boers were very polite to Cecil
and as she rode through the different camps every man took off
his hat. We went back to Ventersberg that night and about two
o'clock Cecil came to my room and woke me up with the
intelligence that the British were only two hours away. She
had heard the commandant informing the landlady, a grand low
comedy character from Brooklyn, who had the room next to
Cecil's. I interviewed the landlady who was sitting up in bed
in curl papers, and with a Webley revolver. She was quite
hysterical so I aroused Loosberg who was too sleepy to
understand. The commandant could be heard in the distance
offering his kingdom for a horse and a Cape cart. Cecil and I
decided our horses were done up and that we were too ignorant
of the trail to know where to run. So we decided to go to
sleep. In the morning we confessed that each had been afraid
the other would want to escape, and each wanted only to be
allowed to go to sleep again. Loosberg's Cape Cart and five
mules having arrived we
packed our things on it and started again for the Sand River
where we spent the night on Cronie's farm. Mrs. Cronje had
taken away all the bedding but Dr. Reid gave Cecil his field
mattress and I made one out of rugs and piano covers. In the
morning I found that the iron straps of the mattress had
marked me for life like a grilled beefsteak. There were only
Reid and his assistant surgeon in the farmhouse and they were
greatly excited at having a woman to look after.
We bade farewell to Loosberg who had found his artillery
push, and started off in his Cape Cart which he wished us to
use and take back for him for safety to Del Hay at Pretoria.
Our objective point was the railroad bridge over the sand.
The Boers were on one bank, the British about seven miles back
on the other, the trail ran along the British side of the
river which was sad of it. However, we drove on, I riding and
Cecil and Christian, the Kaffir, in the Cart. We saw no one
for several hours except some Kaffir Kraals and we almost ran
into two herds of deer. I counted twenty-six in one herd,
they were about a quarter of a mile away. We came to a cross
road and I decided to put back as we had lost track of the
river and were bearing straight into the English lines. Just
as we found the river again and had got across a drift cannon
opened on our right. We then knew we were in between the
Boers and the English but we had no other knowledge of our
geographical position. Such being the case we decided to
outspan and lunch. Out-spanning is setting the mules and
horses at liberty, in-spanning trying to catch them again. It
takes five minutes to out-span, and three hours to in-span.
We had Armour's corned beef and Libby's canned bacon. Cecil
cooked the bacon on a stick and we ate
it with biscuits captured by our Boer friends at Cronje's
farm from the English Tommies. About three o'clock we started
off again, and were captured by three Boers. I was riding
behind the cart and threw up my hands "that quick," but Cecil
could not hear me yelling at her to stop on account of the
noise of the cart. I knew if I rode after her they would
shoot at me, and that if she didn't stop, as they were
shouting at her to do, they would shoot her. Under these
trying circumstances I sat still. It caused quite a coolness
on Cecil's part. However the Boers could see I was trying to
get her to halt so they only rode around and headed her off.
We were so glad to see them that they could not be suspicious.
Still, as we had come directly from the English lines they had
doubts. We told them we had lost ourselves and the more they
threatened to take us to the commandant the more satisfied we
were. I insisted on taking photos of them reading Cecil's
passport. It annoyed them that we refused to be serious, we
assured them we had never met anyone we were so glad to see.
They finally believed us, and our passports which describe
Cecil as my "frau," and artist of
Harper's Weekly, an idea
of Loosberg's. We all smoked and then shook hands and they
went back to their positions. We next met Christian De Vet
one of the two big generals who is a grand character. Nothing
could match the wonderful picturesqueness of his camp spread
out over the side of a hill with the bearded fine featured old
Van Dyck and Hugonot heads under great sombreros. De Vet made
us a long speech saying it was only to be expected that the
Great Republic would send men to help the little Republics,
but he had not hoped that the women would show their sympathy
by coming too. All this with the most
simple earnest courtesy. He said "No English woman would
dare do what you are doing." He showed us a farin house on a
kopje about five miles off where he said we could get shelter
and where we would be near the fighting on the morrow. We
rode in the moonlight for some time but when we reached the
house it was filthy and the people were in such terror that we
decided to camp out in the veldt. We found a grove of trees
near by and a stream of water running beside it so we made a
fire there. We had only one biscuit left but several cans of
bacon and tea. It was great fun and we sat up as late as we
could around the fire on account of the cold. We could see
the Boer fires in the moonlight on the hills and across the
Sand, the English flashlights signalling all night. We put a
rubber blanket on the grass and wrapped up in steamer rugs but
both of us died several times of cold and even sitting on the
fire failed to warm me. We were awakened out of a cold
storage sort of sleep by pom-poms going off right over our
heads. They sounded just as disturbing I found from the rear
as when you are in front of them. They are the most effective
of all the small guns for causing your nerves to riot. We
climbed up the hill and saw the English coming in their usual
solid formation stretching out for three miles. We went back
and got the cart and drove to a nearer kopje, but just as we
reached it the Boers abandoned it. Roberts's column was now
much nearer. We then drove on still further in the direction
of the bridge. I kept telling Cecil that the firing was all
from the Boers as I did not want Christian to bolt and run
away with the cart and mules. But Cecil remembered the
pictures in
Harper's Weekly showing the shrapnel smoke
making rings in the air
and as she saw these floating over our head, she knew the
English were firing on us, but said nothing for fear of
scaring Christian. I had promised to get her under fire which
was her one wish so I said that she was now well under fire
for the first and the last time. To which she replied
"Pshaw!" I never saw any one show such self possession. We
halted the cart behind a deserted farm house, and saddled her
pony. The shells were now falling all over the shop, and I
was scared to distraction. But she took about five minutes to
see that her saddle was properly tightened and then we rode up
to the hill. Again the Boers were leaving and only a few
remained. They warned her to keep back but we dismounted and
walked up to the hill. It was a very hot place but Cecil was
quite unmoved. We showed her the shells striking back of her
and around her but she refused to be impressed with the
danger. She went among the Boers begging them to make a stand
very quietly and like one man to another and they took it just
in that way and said "But we are very tired. We have been
driven back for three days. We are only a thousand, they are
twenty thousand." Some of them only sat still too proud to
run, too sick to fight! When the British got within five
hundred yards of the artillery I told her she must run. At
the same moment Botha's men a mile on our right broke away in
a mad gallop, as though the lancers were after them. I
finally got her on her pony and we raced for Ventersberg with
Christian a good first. He had lost all desire to out-span.
At Ventersberg we found every one harnessing up in the
street and abandoning everything. We again felt this untimely
desire for food, and had lunch at Jones's hotel on scraps and
Cecil went off to see if
she could loot the cook, as everyone but her had left the
hotel and as we needed one in Pretoria. A despatch-rider came
running to me as I was smoking in the garden and shouted that
the "Roinekes" were coming in force over the hill. I ran out
in the street and saw their shells falling all over the edge
of the village. They were only a quarter of an hour behind
us. I yelled for Cecil who was helping the looted cook pack
up her own things and anyone else's she could find in a sheet.
I gathered up a dog and a kitten Cecil wanted and left a note
for the next English officer who occupied my room with the
inscription "I'd leave my happy home for you." We then put
the cook, the kitten, the dog and Cecil in the cart and I got
on the horse and we let out for Kronstad at a gallop. We
raced the thirty miles in five hours without one halt. That
was not our cruelty to animals but Christian's who whenever I
ordered him to halt and let us rest, yelled that the Englesses
were after us and galloped on. The retreat was a terribly
pathetic spectacle; for hours we passed through group after
group of the broken and dispirited Boers. At Kronstad
President Steyn whom I went to see on arriving ordered a
special car for me, and sent us off at once. We reached here
the next morning, Christian arriving a day later having killed
one mule and one pony in his eagerness to escape. We are
going back again as soon as Roberts reaches the Vaal. There
there must be a stand. Love and best wishes to you all — —
DICK.
June 8th, 1900.
On board the Kausler.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
We engaged our passage on this ship some weeks ago not
thinking we would have the English near
Pretoria until August. But as it happened they came so near
that we did not know whether or not to wait over and see them
enter the capital. I decided not, first, because after that
one event, there would be nothing for us to see or do. We
could not leave until the 2nd of July and a month under
British martial law was very distasteful to me. Besides I did
not care much to see them enter, or to be forced to witness
their rejoicing. As soon as we got under way and about half
the distance to the coast, it is a two days' trip. We heard
so many rumors of Roberts's communication having been cut off
and that the war was not over, that we thought perhaps we
ought to go back — As we have no news since except that the
British are in Pretoria we still do not know what to think.
Personally I am glad I came away as I can do just as much for
the Boers at home now as there where the British censor would
have shut me off from cabling and mails are so slow. With the
local knowledge I have, I hope to keep at it until it is over.
But when I consider the magnitude of the misrepresentation
about the burghers I feel appalled at the idea of going up
against it. One is really afraid to tell all the truth about
the Boer because no one would believe you — It is almost
better to go mildly and then you may have some chance. But
personally I know no class of men I admire as much or who
to-day preserve the best and oldest ideas of charity, fairness
and good-will to men.
DICK.
June 29th, 1900.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
We are now just off Crete, and our next sight of the blue
land will be Europe. It means so many things; being alone
with Cecil again, instead of on a raft touching
elbows with so many strangers, and it means a shop where
you can buy collars, and where they put starch in your linen.
Also many beautiful ladies one does not know and men in
evening dress one does not know and green tables covered with
gold and little green and red bits of ivory where one passes
among the tables and wonders what they would think if they
knew we two had found our greatest friends in the Boer
farmers, in Dutch Station Masters who gave us a corner under
the telegraph table in which to sleep, with Nelson who kept
the Transvaal Steam Laundry, Col. Lynch of the steerage who
comes to the dividing line to beg French books from Cecil, and
that we had cooked our food on sticks, drunk out of the same
cups with Kaffir servants and slept on the ground when there
was frost on it. It will be so strange to find that there are
millions of people who do not know Komali poort, who have
thought of anything else except burghers and roor-i-neks — It
seems almost disloyal to the Boers to be glad to see
newspapers only an hour old instead of six weeks old, and to
welcome all the tyranny of collar buttons, scarf pins, watch
chains, walking sticks and gloves even. I love them both and
I can hardly believe it is true that we are to go to a real
hotel with a lift and a chasseur, where you cannot smoke in
the dining-room. As for Aix, that I cannot believe will ever
happen — It was just a part of one's honeymoon and I refuse to
cheat myself into thinking that within a week I will be riding
through the lanes of the little villages, drinking red wine at
Burget, watching Chas spread cheese over great hunks of bread
and listening to three bands at one time. And then the joy to
follow of Home and America and all that is American. Even the
Custom
House holds nothing but joy for me — and then "mine own
people!" It has been six weeks since we have heard from you
or longer, nearly two months and how I miss you and want you.
It will be a happy day when Dad meets me at the wharf and I
can see his blue and white tie again and his dear face under
the white hat — where you and Nora will be I cannot tell, but I
will seek you out. We will be happy together — so happy — It
has been the longest separation we have known and such a lot
of things have happened. It will be such peace to see you and
hold you once again.
DICK.
AIX — LES — BAINS.
July 6th, 1900.
[DEAR FAMILY:]
Cecil and I arrived last night tired and about worn
out — we had had a month on board ship and two days in the cars
and when we got out at Aix and found our rooms ready and
Francois waiting, we shouted and cheered. It was never so
beautiful as it looked in the moonlight and we walked all over
it, through the silent streets chortling with glee. They
could not give us our same rooms but we got the suite just
above them, which is just as good. They were so extremely
friendly and glad to see us and had flowers in all the rooms.
We have not heard a word about Chas yet, as our mail has not
arrived from Paris, but I will cable in a minute and hear. We
cannot wait any longer for news of him. I got up at seven
this morning so excited that I could not sleep and have been
to the baths, where I was received like the President of the
Republic. In fact everybody seems to have only the kindest
recollections of us and to be glad to have us back.
Such a rest as it is and so clean and bright and good — Only I
have absolutely nothing to wear except a two pound flannel
suit I bought at Lorenzo Marquez until I get some built by a
French tailor. I must wear a bath robe or a bicycle suit
until evening. We have not been to the haunts of evil yet but
we are dining there to night and all will be well. Cecil
sends her love to you all — Goodbye and God bless you.
RICHARD.
Richard and his wife returned to America in the early
fall of 1900 and, after a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Clark at
Marion, settled for the winter in New York. They took a house
in East Fifty-eighth Street where they did much entertaining
and lived a very social existence, but I do not imagine that
either of them regarded the winter as a success. Richard was
unable to do his usual amount of work, and both he and his
wife were too fond of the country to enjoy an entire winter in
town. In the spring they went back to Marion
.
MARION,
MASSACHUSETTS. May, 1901.
We arrived here last night in a glowing sunset which was
followed by a grand moon. The house was warm and clean and
bright, with red curtains and open fires and everything was
just as we had left it, so that it seemed as though we had
just come out of a tortuous bad dream of asphalt and L. roads
and bad air. I was never so glad to get away from New York.
Outside it is brisk and fine and smells of earth and
melting snow and there is a grand breeze from the bay. We
took a long walk to-day, with the three dogs, and it
was pitiful to see how glad they were to be free of the cellar
and a back yard and at large among grass and rocks and roots
of trees. I wanted to bottle up some of the air and send it
to all of my friends in New York. It is so much better to
smell than hot-house violets. Seaton came on with us to
handle the dogs and to unpack and so to-day we are nearly
settled already with silver, pictures, clothes and easels and
writing things all in place. The gramophone is whirling madly
and all is well — Lots and lots of love.
DICK.
The following was written by Richard to his mother on her
birthday:
MARION, MASSACHUSFTTS.
June 27th, 1901.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
In those wonderful years of yours you never thought of
the blessing you were to us, only of what good you could find
in us. All that time, you were helping us and others, and
making us better, happier, even nobler people. From the day
you struck the first blow for labor, in The Iron Mills on
to the editorials in The Tribune, The Youth's
Companion and
The Independent, with all the good the novels, the stories
brought to people, you were always year after year making the
ways straighter, lifting up people, making them happier and
better. No woman ever did better for her time than you and no
shrieking suffragette will ever understand the influence you
wielded, greater than hundreds of thousands of women's votes.
We love you dear, dear mother, and we know you and
may
your coming years be many and as full of happiness for
yourself as they are for us.
RICHARD.
