For the Empire’s Sake.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIX, Issue VIII, 23 August 1902, Page 489

For the Empire’s Sake.

LEAVES FROM THE DIARY OF A PREMIER ON TOUR.

Beyond acknowledging his indebtedness to wireless telegraphy, the editor does not feel at liberty to disclose the source of the interesting eommunication which follows, the securing of which is perhaps the most remarkable “scoop” yet made in the history of New Zealand journalism.

Hotel Cecil, Friday, .August 15. —So busy have I been these last few days ■that this simple record of my doings has lain neglected. I have little difficulty, however, in recalling now the events which have transpired since I made my last entry, for they are among the most important that have taken place since I arrived here, and are indelibly impressed on my memory. On Wednesday we, that is, myself and the other colonial Premiers, were received by the King in Buckingham Palace grounds. There was a sort of of colonial troops on, but the event of the day was the meeting between me and His Majesty. In anticipation of a personal interview with him I had brought with me the several loyal addresses from New

Zealand, the model pataka or storehouse, and the greenstone casket, which was a special Kuinara presentation—a happy idea of my own. Thompson was in attendance with the whole box of tricks, neatly bestowed in a large Gladstone bag. After introductions —the Prince of Wales introduced us —and the interchange of good wishes as to each other's health, I quietly motioned Thompson forward, retired a paee or two from the King, and clearing my throat, got to business. Thompson held up each article in turn while I briefly explained all about it, and then at a signal from me he handed it to the Sovereign. I need not repeat here all that I said, but I may remark that these little speechlets are among) my happiest oratorical efforts—that is, in my opinion. I reminded His Majesty of what a loyal colony he had in New Zealand, sketched the history of the country from the days of Tasman, .rapidly outlined the course of legislation under the pakeha, touched on the Maoris and their manners, catalogued our chief products, giving our export and import figures, skirted the subject of our debt, and ended up with a short

biographical note of my own career. Then Thompson handed to the King the first address. Allowing His Majesty time to fully appreciate the gift, end murmur his thanks, I proceeded to the next item, always saying something appropriate in connection with each. 1 fancy I was at my best in the case of the little greenstone casket, the gift of my Kumara constituency. I particularly emphasised the loyalty of that, part of the colony, telling the King that there was not a man on all that West Coast who was not prepared to drink his health even at the invitation of the mere passing stranger. After the gifts had thus been suitably disposed of, I dropped the official vein, and entered into familiar conversation with King Edward, the Prince of Wales, who was by, putting in a word now and then. “I must thank you warmly,” says the King, “for all your kindness to my son, while he was journeying through your kingdom—l mean colony.” He blushed slightly at his mistake, but I was too well-bred to pretend to notice it. “I am sure,” says I, modestly, “that the Prince need never want a friend so long as Dick Seddon is alive.” “Thank you, Mr Seddon,” says he. “Dick,” says I, “plain-Dick to my friends still. Your Majesty, and I don’t think there need be any fonnality between us. Det me relieve you of these addresses.” And so we went on as pleasantly as one could imagine, no “side” on the part of either of us, the Prince chipping in with a

remark now and again, and t.J forth. "Nice grounds you’ve got here,” says I, pointing with my gold-headed cane to the lawns. “ ’Spose you’ve no time for gardening, though.. Well, you're about right; bending does try the back.” I mention these scraps of conversation just to show how homely we had got in the course of less than an hour. Folks, not knowing, might imagine us conversing on big topics, such as federation, colonial finance, representative government, and the women’s franchise. But there was nothing of that; just plain, commonplace chat such as migfit pass between two ordinary individuals. Just before we parted, while I was shaking the King warmly by the hand, 1 expressed my regret that the colony was so far distant, as I felt we would appreciate each other better* if we eame more frequently in touch. “Of course,” says I, “there’s always the post, and now we’ve got the cost of transit down to the penny, correspondence is easy. But,” I added, quickly, seeing an embarrassed look on his face, “I fancy that like myself you’re no great correspondent. I’m sorry my time here is so short now. There are so many things I would have liked to speak to you about. I say: What are you doing to-night? ’Spose I drop in.” He murmured something about encroaching on my time, ■time,” says I, laughing. “What's it for, if I can't spare an hour or two to my

King. I’ll drop in to-night. No ceremony, you know. I'd much rather you didn't make any preparation,” and without giving him time to remonstrate I again wrung the royal hand, patted the Prince of Wales on the head, and rejoined my party. The same evening, throwing a light coat over my dinner- jacket, I strolled over to the Palace. Knowing the

King to be partial to a good smoke, 1 filled my cigar case with half-a-dozen choice weeds. . Withe ford had recommended them to me. The King was in his sanctum, and seemed a little surprised when I was announced, z At first he was disposed to be a trifle distant—why, I could not imagine, for I was cordiality itself. I put it down to his recent illness—but my heartiness soon overcame any reserve on his part, and in half an hour I had him holding his sides as I reeled off one West Coast yarn after another. He was so taken with several of them that I have offered to jot them down for him. As he said, a good story always comes in handy to a public man. Over our glasses we got to talking about'whisky, and I opportunely slipped into his hand a card recommending the new Seddon brand. • I must confess His Majesty smokes a good cigar. I asked him where he dealt. Our conversation ranged from grave to gay, and there was not a subject touched upon that I did not give the King some new wrinkles regarding it. We talked a great deal on the Boer war, and I understood him to say that he wished Roberts had been of the party to hear my views. I introduced rather neatly the rumour that I had refused a baronetcy, as an instance of the idle stories which get abroad about public men. “I have not taken the trouble to contradict it. Your Majesty,” says I, holding- my glass to my lips, and eyeing him keenly across it, “but. as vou know, one can't refuse what they have never been offered.” “Of course they can't,” says he, quietly. He was not to be drawn. Later he twitted inc about the Papawai speech, and the purse of sovereigns, which rather narked me, but I was too polite to show it. Before we parted I got him to write his name in my birthday book, where it now is one of my most treasured possessions, and an indisputable evidence to everyone of the close terms of intimacy I can claim to have been on with my King. I question whether Barton, Laurier or any of the others has so much to show. I have also one of the Royal spoons appropriated by me as n memento of my remarkable visit to Buckingham Palace. My last impression of that evening is the genial figure of His Majesty standing at the door of his sanctum, and laughing consummately at a real old West Coast corker I had pitched him on the threshold, and myself calling up the stairs, “Well, take care of yourself. Hope to see you at the review.”

Sunday.—Yesterday was the greftf occasion of the naval review. The position I took up at the Imperial Conference has given me something of a standing in naval matters, and I was made a good deal of during the day. Conceiving that it would be appropriate for me to dress in keeping with the great event, I donned a smart yachting suit of white flannel trousers, blue shirt and red blazer—■ a combination of the national colours which attracted a great deal of attention. Barton and the others, who came in ordinary attire, looked like fish out of water while I, as I stood on the deck of our steamer, toned in admirably with the aquatic surroundings. Thompson heard scores of people commenting on my taste. At one part the King’s yacht passed us. I was on the bridge of our boat at the time watching my chance, and when His Majesty saluted I sprang on to the rail and remained there, with considerable difficulty and at no little risk, waving two small flags crisscross over my chest. It was a highly* effective performance, and I understand the King spoke of it afterwards. v

It was not till I returned last night from the review that I learned of the threat to assassinate my locum tenens, Joe Ward. The news makes me quite nervous. I feel that in the past I have rashly exposed myself to risks of this kind. But I mean to take very special precautions in tho future. My success this trip will have further increased the undoubted animus against me in the colony—indeed I know it has—and heaven only knows what some crack-brained individual might take it into his head td do. “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown!” as Irving says in the play.

Monday.—Acting on my resolve of last night to take greater precautions for my safety in the future, I went into a. curio-dealer’s place this morning, and was persuaded by Thompson to try on a suit of fourteenth century armour. It was trying merely, foi» the thing was ridiculously small, and putting it on was largely by way of a joke. Yet I can seriously conceive of being reduced to some such expedient ns a safeguard, and I shall certainly do something to provide myself witli protective armour of some kind before T return to New Zealand. . , .

By the way, talking of armour reminds me that last week I presented General Baden-Powell’s mother with the solid gold salver subscribed for by the public service of New Zealand. In the course of my speech I told her all I thought of Mafeking, and assured her that in my opinion her son was the right man in the right place —a remark which I have made concerning very few people save the King and Lords Roberts and Kitchener and Mr. Chamberlain since I came here.