for which he developed a forte. I will say no more than that, where the distribution of food and equipment was concerned, he was not slow to introduce a commercial element to his own advantage. At all events, we saw little of each other at this time.
By the summer of 1900, the war seemed virtually over. Roberts having taken Johannesburg on May 31 and Pretoria five days later, there appeared to remain only the mopping-up of Boer resistance. It was this swift redemption of Buller’s earlier blunderings that presumably convinced the Conservative-Unionist government at home that the time was ripe for a general election. It seemed to me, when I heard of it, a simple attempt to capitalize on the victorious mood of 38
R O B E R T G O D D A R D
the people, but it is true to say that my view may have been influenced by the imminence of my candidature for Parliament, which I had thought to be two years away and for which I was consequently ill-prepared.
Lord Roberts showed great understanding of my difficulty and sanctioned my immediate return home. Here Couch, for all that I have said about his loss of nerve at Colenso, did me a not inconsiderable service. I had accepted an invitation to stay with the van der Merwes, an influential Dutch family near Durban , as part of my bridge-building exercise. Passing through Capetown in late August, I met Couch by chance and mentioned that I would have to disappoint the van der Merwes if I were to return to England in time to make any kind of fist of the election , which seemed a pity, this being the most overt hospitality I had been shown by the Dutch community. Couch, granted leave at this slack time, when everyone was merely awaiting the formal cessation of hostilities, volunteered to take my place in Durban. In a role where charm counted for much, I have little doubt that he did an excellent job.
So it was that I arrived home in England with but a week in which to conduct my election campaign. As I might have known , my parents and brother had already mounted a highly effective one in my absence and it was the considered opinion of Flowers, the taciturn agent whom I inherited from Sir William, that any attack upon my party’s attitude to the war by my Conservative opponent would be more than offset by my own record of service in South Africa. In this he was correct. The general election of October 1900
has ever after been referred to as the “Khaki” election and if it was, as I firmly believe, the government’s attempt to exploit their virtual victory in South Africa, I am happy to record that it went otherwise for them in Mid-Devon.
I shall ever recall the scene in the town hall at Okehampton in the early hours of October 5, when the returning officer announced my victory at the poll by a majority only a little short of that traditionally commanded by Sir William and a throng of red-faced Devonians toasted in cider their new young tribune. At the age of 24, I found myself a member of that most exalted of democratic institutions—the British Parliament—with everything to look forward to.
P A S T C A R I N G
39
“Senhor Radford! Excuse the interruption: the master has asked me to tell you that luncheon is served.”
It was old Tomás speaking, rousing me from the reverie that had followed my completion of the first chapter of the Memoir.
“ Obrigado, Tomás, ” I said. Then, hesitantly, I sought to use a little more of the basic Portuguese I’d gleaned from my hand-book. “ Oude fica o almoço? ”
“In the morning room, senhor,” Tomás replied. “Please come with me.”
Taking the Memoir with me, I followed him along the verandah.
“Have you been on the island long, senhor?”
“Only a few days.”
“Then your Portuguese does you great credit.”
“Thank you for saying so. But I think your English does you greater credit.”
“No, no, senhor. I have been here forty years and Quinta do Porto Novo has always had a master who spoke
By the summer of 1900, the war seemed virtually over. Roberts having taken Johannesburg on May 31 and Pretoria five days later, there appeared to remain only the mopping-up of Boer resistance. It was this swift redemption of Buller’s earlier blunderings that presumably convinced the Conservative-Unionist government at home that the time was ripe for a general election. It seemed to me, when I heard of it, a simple attempt to capitalize on the victorious mood of 38
R O B E R T G O D D A R D
the people, but it is true to say that my view may have been influenced by the imminence of my candidature for Parliament, which I had thought to be two years away and for which I was consequently ill-prepared.
Lord Roberts showed great understanding of my difficulty and sanctioned my immediate return home. Here Couch, for all that I have said about his loss of nerve at Colenso, did me a not inconsiderable service. I had accepted an invitation to stay with the van der Merwes, an influential Dutch family near Durban , as part of my bridge-building exercise. Passing through Capetown in late August, I met Couch by chance and mentioned that I would have to disappoint the van der Merwes if I were to return to England in time to make any kind of fist of the election , which seemed a pity, this being the most overt hospitality I had been shown by the Dutch community. Couch, granted leave at this slack time, when everyone was merely awaiting the formal cessation of hostilities, volunteered to take my place in Durban. In a role where charm counted for much, I have little doubt that he did an excellent job.
So it was that I arrived home in England with but a week in which to conduct my election campaign. As I might have known , my parents and brother had already mounted a highly effective one in my absence and it was the considered opinion of Flowers, the taciturn agent whom I inherited from Sir William, that any attack upon my party’s attitude to the war by my Conservative opponent would be more than offset by my own record of service in South Africa. In this he was correct. The general election of October 1900
has ever after been referred to as the “Khaki” election and if it was, as I firmly believe, the government’s attempt to exploit their virtual victory in South Africa, I am happy to record that it went otherwise for them in Mid-Devon.
I shall ever recall the scene in the town hall at Okehampton in the early hours of October 5, when the returning officer announced my victory at the poll by a majority only a little short of that traditionally commanded by Sir William and a throng of red-faced Devonians toasted in cider their new young tribune. At the age of 24, I found myself a member of that most exalted of democratic institutions—the British Parliament—with everything to look forward to.
P A S T C A R I N G
39
“Senhor Radford! Excuse the interruption: the master has asked me to tell you that luncheon is served.”
It was old Tomás speaking, rousing me from the reverie that had followed my completion of the first chapter of the Memoir.
“ Obrigado, Tomás, ” I said. Then, hesitantly, I sought to use a little more of the basic Portuguese I’d gleaned from my hand-book. “ Oude fica o almoço? ”
“In the morning room, senhor,” Tomás replied. “Please come with me.”
Taking the Memoir with me, I followed him along the verandah.
“Have you been on the island long, senhor?”
“Only a few days.”
“Then your Portuguese does you great credit.”
“Thank you for saying so. But I think your English does you greater credit.”
“No, no, senhor. I have been here forty years and Quinta do Porto Novo has always had a master who spoke
Similar Books
