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 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
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.
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 everyone 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