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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Appreciations of Richard Harding Davis + +Author: Various + +Contributor: Gouverneur Morris + Booth Tarkington + Charles Dana Gibson + E. L. Burlingame + Augustus Thomas + Theodore Roosevelt + Irvin S. Cobb + John Fox, Jr + Finley Peter Dunne + Winston Churchill + Leonard Wood + John T. McCutcheon + +Release Date: January 21, 2008 [EBook #406] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK APPREC. OF RICHARD HARDING DAVIS *** + + + + + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +Appreciations of Richard Harding Davis +</H1> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Various Authors of Some Repute +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +APPRECIATIONS +</H2> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<A HREF="#chap01">Gouverneur Morris</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap02">Booth Tarkington</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap03">Charles Dana Gibson</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap04">E. L. Burlingame</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap05">Augustus Thomas</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap06">Theodore Roosevelt</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap07">Irvin S. Cobb</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap08">John Fox, Jr</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap09">Finley Peter Dunne</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap10">Winston Churchill</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap11">Leonard Wood</A><BR> +<A HREF="#chap12">John T. McCutcheon</A><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +R. H. D. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY GOUVERNEUR MORRIS +</H3> + +<P CLASS="intro"> +"And they rise to their feet as He passes by, gentlemen unafraid." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +He was almost too good to be true. In addition, the gods loved him, +and so he had to die young. Some people think that a man of fifty-two +is middle-aged. But if R. H. D. had lived to be a hundred, he would +never have grown old. It is not generally known that the name of his +other brother was Peter Pan. +</P> + +<P> +Within the year we have played at pirates together, at the taking of +sperm whales; and we have ransacked the Westchester Hills for gunsites +against the Mexican invasion. And we have made lists of guns, and +medicines, and tinned things, in case we should ever happen to go +elephant-shooting in Africa. But we weren't going to hurt the +elephants. Once R. H. D. shot a hippopotamus and he was always ashamed +and sorry. I think he never killed anything else. He wasn't that kind +of a sportsman. Of hunting, as of many other things, he has said the +last word. Do you remember the Happy Hunting Ground in "The Bar +Sinister"?—"where nobody hunts us, and there is nothing to hunt." +</P> + +<P> +Experienced persons tell us that a manhunt is the most exciting of all +sports. R. H. D. hunted men in Cuba. He hunted for wounded men who +were out in front of the trenches and still under fire, and found some +of them and brought them in. The Rough Riders didn't make him an +honorary member of their regiment just because he was charming and a +faithful friend, but largely because they were a lot of daredevils and +he was another. +</P> + +<P> +To hear him talk you wouldn't have thought that he had ever done a +brave thing in his life. He talked a great deal, and he talked even +better than he wrote (at his best he wrote like an angel), but I have +dusted every corner of my memory and cannot recall any story of his in +which he played a heroic or successful part. Always he was running at +top speed, or hiding behind a tree, or lying face down in a foot of +water (for hours!) so as not to be seen. Always he was getting the +worst of it. But about the other fellows he told the whole truth with +lightning flashes of wit and character building and admiration or +contempt. Until the invention of moving pictures the world had nothing +in the least like his talk. His eye had photographed, his mind had +developed and prepared the slides, his words sent the light through +them, and lo and behold, they were reproduced on the screen of your own +mind, exact in drawing and color. With the written word or the spoken +word he was the greatest recorder and reporter of things that he had +seen of any man, perhaps, that ever lived. The history of the last +thirty years, its manners and customs and its leading events and +inventions, cannot be written truthfully without reference to the +records which he has left, to his special articles and to his letters. +Read over again the Queen's Jubilee, the Czar's Coronation, the March +of the Germans through Brussels, and see for yourself if I speak too +zealously, even for a friend, to whom, now that R. H. D. is dead, the +world can never be the same again. +</P> + +<P> +But I did not set out to estimate his genius. That matter will come in +due time before the unerring tribunal of posterity. +</P> + +<P> +One secret of Mr. Roosevelt's hold upon those who come into contact +with him is his energy. Retaining enough for his own use (he uses a +good deal, because every day he does the work of five or six men), he +distributes the inexhaustible remainder among those who most need it. +Men go to him tired and discouraged, he sends them away glad to be +alive, still gladder that he is alive, and ready to fight the devil +himself in a good cause. Upon his friends R. H. D. had the same +effect. And it was not only in proximity that he could distribute +energy, but from afar, by letter and cable. He had some intuitive way +of knowing just when you were slipping into a slough of laziness and +discouragement. And at such times he either appeared suddenly upon the +scene, or there came a boy on a bicycle, with a yellow envelope and a +book to sign, or the postman in his buggy, or the telephone rang and +from the receiver there poured into you affection and encouragement. +</P> + +<P> +But the great times, of course, were when he came in person, and the +temperature of the house, which a moment before had been too hot or too +cold, became just right, and a sense of cheerfulness and well-being +invaded the hearts of the master and the mistress and of the servants +in the house and in the yard. And the older daughter ran to him, and +the baby, who had been fretting because nobody would give her a +double-barrelled shotgun, climbed upon his knee and forgot all about +the disappointments of this uncompromising world. +</P> + +<P> +He was touchingly sweet with children. I think he was a little afraid +of them. He was afraid perhaps that they wouldn't find out how much he +loved them. But when they showed him that they trusted him, and, +unsolicited, climbed upon him and laid their cheeks against his, then +the loveliest expression came over his face, and you knew that the +great heart, which the other day ceased to beat, throbbed with an +exquisite bliss, akin to anguish. +</P> + +<P> +One of the happiest days I remember was when I and mine received a +telegram saying that he had a baby of his own. And I thank God that +little Miss Hope is too young to know what an appalling loss she has +suffered.… +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps he stayed to dine. Then perhaps the older daughter was allowed +to sit up an extra half-hour so that she could wait on the table (and +though I say it, that shouldn't, she could do this beautifully, with +dignity and without giggling), and perhaps the dinner was good, or R. +H. D. thought it was, and in that event he must abandon his place and +storm the kitchen to tell the cook all about it. Perhaps the gardener +was taking life easy on the kitchen porch. He, too, came in for +praise. R. H. D. had never seen our Japanese iris so beautiful; as for +his, they wouldn't grow at all. It wasn't the iris, it was the man +behind the iris. And then back he would come to us, with a wonderful +story of his adventures in the pantry on his way to the kitchen, and +leaving behind him a cook to whom there had been issued a new lease of +life, and a gardener who blushed and smiled in the darkness under the +Actinidia vines. +</P> + +<P> +It was in our little house at Aiken, in South Carolina, that he was +with us most and we learned to know him best, and that he and I became +dependent upon each other in many ways. +</P> + +<P> +Events, into which I shall not go, had made his life very difficult and +complicated. And he who had given so much friendship to so many people +needed a little friendship in return, and perhaps, too, he needed for a +time to live in a house whose master and mistress loved each other, and +where there were children. Before he came that first year our house +had no name. Now it is called "Let's Pretend." +</P> + +<P> +Now the chimney in the living-room draws, but in those first days of +the built-over house it didn't. At least, it didn't draw all the time, +but we pretended that it did, and with much pretense came faith. From +the fireplace that smoked to the serious things of life we extended our +pretendings, until real troubles went down before them—down and out. +</P> + +<P> +It was one of Aiken's very best winters, and the earliest spring I ever +lived anywhere. R. H. D. came shortly after Christmas. The spiraeas +were in bloom, and the monthly roses; you could always find a sweet +violet or two somewhere in the yard; here and there splotches of deep +pink against gray cabin walls proved that precocious peach-trees were +in bloom. It never rained. At night it was cold enough for fires. In +the middle of the day it was hot. The wind never blew, and every +morning we had a four for tennis and every afternoon we rode in the +woods. And every night we sat in front of the fire (that didn't smoke +because of pretending) and talked until the next morning. He was one +of those rarely gifted men who find their chiefest pleasure not in +looking backward or forward, but in what is going on at the moment. +Weeks did not have to pass before it was forced upon his knowledge that +Tuesday, the fourteenth (let us say), had been a good Tuesday. He knew +it the moment he waked at 7 A. M. and perceived the Tuesday sunshine +making patterns of bright light upon the floor. The sunshine rejoiced +him and the knowledge that even before breakfast there was vouchsafed +to him a whole hour of life. That day began with attentions to his +physical well-being. There were exercises, conducted with great vigor +and rejoicing, followed by a tub, artesian cold, and a loud and joyous +singing of ballads. +</P> + +<P> +At fifty R. H. D. might have posed to some Praxiteles and, copied in +marble, gone down the ages as "statue of a young athlete." He stood +six feet and over, straight as a Sioux chief, a noble and leonine head +carried by a splendid torso. His skin was as fine and clean as a +child's. He weighed nearly two hundred pounds and had no fat on him. +He was the weight-throwing rather than the running type of athlete, but +so tenaciously had he clung to the suppleness of his adolescent days +that he could stand stiff-legged and lay his hands flat upon the floor. +</P> + +<P> +The singing over, silence reigned. But if you had listened at his door +you must have heard a pen going, swiftly and boldly. He was hard at +work, doing unto others what others had done unto him. You were a +stranger to him; some magazine had accepted a story that you had +written and published it. R. H. D. had found something to like and +admire in that story (very little perhaps), and it was his duty and +pleasure to tell you so. If he had liked the story very much he would +send you instead of a note a telegram. Or it might be that you had +drawn a picture, or, as a cub reporter, had shown golden promise in a +half-column of unsigned print; R. H. D. would find you out, and find +time to praise you and help you. So it was that when he emerged from +his room at sharp eight o'clock, he was wide-awake and happy and +hungry, and whistled and double-shuffled with his feet, out of +excessive energy, and carried in his hands a whole sheaf of notes and +letters and telegrams. +</P> + +<P> +Breakfast with him was not the usual American breakfast, a sullen, +dyspeptic gathering of persons who only the night before had rejoiced +in each other's society. With him it was the time when the mind is, or +ought to be, at its best, the body at its freshest and hungriest. +Discussions of the latest plays and novels, the doings and undoings of +statesmen, laughter and sentiment—to him, at breakfast, these things +were as important as sausages and thick cream. +</P> + +<P> +Breakfast over, there was no dawdling and putting off of the day's work +(else how, at eleven sharp, could tennis be played with a free +conscience?). Loving, as he did, everything connected with a +newspaper, he would now pass by those on the hall-table with never so +much as a wistful glance, and hurry to his workroom. +</P> + +<P> +He wrote sitting down. He wrote standing up. And, almost you may say, +he wrote walking up and down. Some people, accustomed to the delicious +ease and clarity of his style, imagine that he wrote very easily. He +did and he didn't. Letters, easy, clear, to the point, and gorgeously +human, flowed from him without let or hindrance. That masterpiece of +corresponding, "The German March through Brussels," was probably +written almost as fast as he could talk (next to Phillips Brooks he was +the fastest talker I ever heard), but when it came to fiction he had no +facility at all. Perhaps I should say that he held in contempt any +facility that he may have had. It was owing to his incomparable energy +and Joblike patience that he ever gave us any fiction at all. Every +phrase in his fiction was, of all the myriad phrases he could think of, +the fittest in his relentless judgment to survive. Phrases, +paragraphs, pages, whole stories even, were written over and over +again. He worked upon a principle of elimination. If he wished to +describe an automobile turning in at a gate, he made first a long and +elaborate description from which there was omitted no detail which the +most observant pair of eyes in Christendom had ever noted with +reference to just such a turning. Thereupon he would begin a process +of omitting one by one those details which he had been at such pains to +recall; and after each omission he would ask himself: "Does the +picture remain?" If it did not, he restored the detail which he had +just omitted, and experimented with the sacrifice of some other, and so +on, and so on, until after Herculean labor there remained for the +reader one of those, swiftly flashed, ice-clear pictures (complete in +every detail) with which his tales and romances are so delightfully and +continuously adorned. +</P> + +<P> +But it is quarter to eleven, and, this being a time of holiday, R. H. +D. emerges from his workroom happy to think that he has placed one +hundred and seven words between himself and the wolf who hangs about +every writer's door. He isn't satisfied with those hundred and seven +words. He never was in the least satisfied with anything that he +wrote, but he has searched his mind and his conscience and he believes +that under the circumstances they are the very best that he can do. +Anyway, they can stand in their present order until—after lunch. +</P> + +<P> +A sign of his youth was the fact that to the day of his death he had +denied himself the luxury and slothfulness of habits. I have never +seen him smoke automatically as most men do. He had too much respect +for his own powers of enjoyment and for the sensibilities, perhaps, of +the best Havana tobacco. At a time of his own deliberate choosing, +often after many hours of hankering and renunciation, he smoked his +cigar. He smoked it with delight, with a sense of being rewarded, and +he used all the smoke there was in it. +</P> + +<P> +He dearly loved the best food, the best champagne, and the best Scotch +whiskey. But these things were friends to him, and not enemies. He +had toward food and drink the Continental attitude; namely, that +quality is far more important than quantity; and he got his +exhilaration from the fact that he was drinking champagne and not from +the champagne. Perhaps I shall do well to say that on questions of +right and wrong he had a will of iron. All his life he moved +resolutely in whichever direction his conscience pointed; and, although +that ever present and never obtrusive conscience of his made mistakes +of judgment now and then, as must all consciences, I think it can never +once have tricked him into any action that was impure or unclean. Some +critics maintain that the heroes and heroines of his books are +impossibly pure and innocent young people. R. H. D. never called upon +his characters for any trait of virtue, or renunciation, or +self-mastery of which his own life could not furnish examples. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately, he did not have for his friends the same conscience that +he had for himself. His great gift of eyesight and observation failed +him in his judgments upon his friends. If only you loved him, you +could get your biggest failures of conduct somewhat more than forgiven, +without any trouble at all. And of your molehill virtues he made +splendid mountains. He only interfered with you when he was afraid +that you were going to hurt some one else whom he also loved. Once I +had a telegram from him which urged me for heaven's sake not to forget +that the next day was my wife's birthday. Whether I had forgotten it +or not is my own private affair. And when I declared that I had read a +story which I liked very, very much and was going to write to the +author to tell him so, he always kept at me till the letter was written. +</P> + +<P> +Have I said that he had no habits? Every day, when he was away from +her, he wrote a letter to his mother, and no swift scrawl at that, for, +no matter how crowded and eventful the day, he wrote her the best +letter that he could write. That was the only habit he had. He was a +slave to it. +</P> + +<P> +Once I saw R. H. D. greet his old mother after an absence. They threw +their arms about each other and rocked to and fro for a long time. And +it hadn't been a long absence at that. No ocean had been between them; +her heart had not been in her mouth with the thought that he was under +fire, or about to become a victim of jungle fever. He had only been +away upon a little expedition, a mere matter of digging for buried +treasure. We had found the treasure, part of it a chipmunk's skull and +a broken arrowhead, and R. H. D. had been absent from his mother for +nearly two hours and a half. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +I set about this article with the knowledge that I must fail to give +more than a few hints of what he was like. There isn't much more space +at my command, and there were so many sides to him that to touch upon +them all would fill a volume. There were the patriotism and the +Americanism, as much a part of him as the marrow of his bones, and from +which sprang all those brilliant headlong letters to the newspapers: +those trenchant assaults upon evil-doers in public office, those +quixotic efforts to redress wrongs, and those simple and dexterous +exposures of this and that, from an absolutely unexpected point of +view. He was a quickener of the public conscience. That people are +beginning to think tolerantly of preparedness, that a nation which at +one time looked yellow as a dandelion is beginning to turn Red, White, +and Blue is owing in some measure to him. +</P> + +<P> +R. H. D. thought that war was unspeakably terrible. He +thought that peace at the price which our country has been forced to +pay for it was infinitely worse. And he was one of those who have +gradually taught this country to see the matter in the same way. +</P> + +<P> +I must come to a close now, and I have hardly scratched the surface of +my subject. And that is a failure which I feel keenly but which was +inevitable. As R. H. D. himself used to say of those deplorable +"personal interviews" which appear in the newspapers, and in which the +important person interviewed is made by the cub reporter to say things +which he never said, or thought, or dreamed of—"You can't expect a +fifteen-dollar-a-week brain to describe a thousand-dollar-a-week brain." +</P> + +<P> +There is, however, one question which I should attempt to answer. No +two men are alike. In what one salient thing did R. H. D. differ from +other men—differ in his personal character and in the character of his +work? And that question I can answer off-hand, without taking thought, +and be sure that I am right. +</P> + +<P> +An analysis of his works, a study of that book which the Recording +Angel keeps will show one dominant characteristic to which even his +brilliancy, his clarity of style, his excellent mechanism as a writer +are subordinate; and to which, as a man, even his sense of duty, his +powers of affection, of forgiveness, of loving-kindness are +subordinate, too; and that characteristic is cleanliness. The biggest +force for cleanliness that was in the world has gone out of the +world—gone to that Happy Hunting Ground where "Nobody hunts us and +there is nothing to hunt." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY BOOTH TARKINGTON +</H3> + +<P> +To the college boy of the early nineties Richard Harding Davis was the +"beau ideal of jeunesse doree," a sophisticated heart of gold. He was +of that college boy's own age, but already an editor—already +publishing books! His stalwart good looks were as familiar to us as +were those of our own football captain; we knew his face as we knew the +face of the President of the United States, but we infinitely preferred +Davis's. When the Waldorf was wondrously completed, and we cut an +exam. in Cuneiform Inscriptions for an excursion to see the world at +lunch in its new magnificence, and Richard Harding Davis came into the +Palm Room—then, oh, then, our day was radiant! That was the top of +our fortune: we could never have hoped for so much. Of all the great +people of every continent, this was the one we most desired to see. +</P> + +<P> +The boys of those days left college to work, to raise families, to grow +grizzled; but the glamour remained about Davis; HE never grew grizzled. +Youth was his great quality. +</P> + +<P> +All his writing has the liveliness of springtime; it stirs with an +unsuppressible gayety, and it has the attraction which companionship +with him had: there is never enough. He could be sharp; he could write +angrily and witheringly; but even when he was fiercest he was buoyant, +and when his words were hot they were not scalding but rather of a dry, +clean indignation with things which he believed could, if they would, +be better. He never saw evil but as temporary. +</P> + +<P> +Following him through his books, whether he wrote of home or carried +his kind, stout heart far, far afield, we see an American writing to +Americans. He often told us about things abroad in terms of New York; +and we have all been to New York, so he made for us the pictures he +wished us to see. And when he did not thus use New York for his colors +he found other means as familiar to us and as suggestive; he always +made us SEE. What claims our thanks in equal measure, he knew our kind +of curiosity so well that he never failed to make us see what we were +most anxious to see. He knew where our dark spots were, cleared up the +field of vision, and left us unconfused. This discernment of our +needs, and this power of enlightening and pleasuring his reader, sprang +from seeds native in him. They were, as we say, gifts; for he always +had them but did not make them. He was a national figure at +twenty-three. He KNEW HOW, before he began. +</P> + +<P> +Youth called to youth: all ages read him, but the young men and young +women have turned to him ever since his precocious fame made him their +idol. They got many things from him, but above all they live with a +happier bravery because of him. Reading the man beneath the print, +they found their prophet and gladly perceived that a prophet is not +always cowled and bearded, but may be a gallant young gentleman. This +one called merrily to them in his manly voice; and they followed him. +He bade them see that pain is negligible, that fear is a joke, and that +the world is poignantly interesting, joyously lovable. +</P> + +<P> +They will always follow him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF DAVIS +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY CHARLES DANA GIBSON +</H3> + +<P> +Dick was twenty-four years old when he came into the smoking-room of +the Victoria Hotel, in London, after midnight one July night—he was +dressed as a Thames boatman. +</P> + +<P> +He had been rowing up and down the river since sundown, looking for +color. He had evidently peopled every dark corner with a pirate, and +every floating object had meant something to him. He had adventure +written all over him. It was the first time I had ever seen him, and I +had never heard of him. I can't now recall another figure in that +smoke-filled room. I don't remember who introduced us—over +twenty-seven years have passed since that night. But I can see Dick +now dressed in a rough brown suit, a soft hat, with a handkerchief +about his neck, a splendid, healthy, clean-minded, gifted boy at play. +And so he always remained. +</P> + +<P> +His going out of this world seemed like a boy interrupted in a game he +loved. And how well and fairly he played it! Surely no one deserved +success more than Dick. And it is a consolation to know he had more +than fifty years of just what he wanted. He had health, a great +talent, and personal charm. There never was a more loyal or unselfish +friend. There wasn't an atom of envy in him. He had unbounded mental +and physical courage, and with it all he was sensitive and sometimes +shy. He often tried to conceal these last two qualities, but never +succeeded in doing so from those of us who were privileged really to +know and love him. +</P> + +<P> +His life was filled with just the sort of adventure he liked the best. +No one ever saw more wars in so many different places or got more out +of them. And it took the largest war in all history to wear out that +stout heart. +</P> + +<P> +We shall miss him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY E. L. BURLINGAME +</H3> + +<P> +One of the most attractive and inspiring things about Richard Harding +Davis was the simple, almost matter-of-course way in which he put into +practice his views of life—in which he acted, and in fact WAS, what he +believed. With most of us, to have opinions as to what is the right +thing to do is at the best to worry a good deal as to whether we are +doing it; at the worst to be conscious of doubts as to whether it is a +sufficient code, or perhaps whether it isn't beyond us. Davis seemed +to have neither of these wasters of strength. He had certain simple, +clean, manly convictions as to how a man should act; apparently quite +without self-consciousness in this respect, whatever little mannerisms +or points of pride he may have had in others—fewer than most men of +his success and fastidiousness—he went ahead and did accordingly, +untormented by any alternatives or casuistries, which for him did not +seem to exist. He was so genuinely straightforward that he could not +sophisticate even himself, as almost every man occasionally does under +temptation. He, at least, never needed to be told +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Go put your creed into your deed<BR> +Nor speak with double tongue."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It is so impossible not to think first of the man, as the testimony of +every one who knew him shows, that those who have long had occasion to +watch and follow his work, not merely with enjoyment but somewhat +critically, may well look upon any detailed discussion of it as +something to be kept till later. But there is more to be said than to +recall the unfailing zest of it, the extraordinary freshness of eye, +the indomitable youthfulness and health of spirit—all the qualities +that we associate with Davis himself. It was serious work in a sense +that only the more thoughtful of its critics had begun of late to +comprehend. It had not inspired a body of disciples like Kipling's, +but it had helped to clear the air and to give a new proof of the +vitality of certain ideals—even of a few of the simpler ones now +outmoded in current masterpieces; and it was at its best far truer in +an artistic sense than it was the fashion of its easy critics to allow. +Whether Davis could or would have written a novel of the higher rank is +a useless question now; he himself, who was a critic of his own work +without illusions or affectation, used to say that he could not; but it +is certain that in the early part of "Captain Macklin" he displayed a +power really Thackerayan in kind. +</P> + +<P> +Of his descriptive writing there need be no fear of speaking with +extravagance; he had made himself, especially in his later work, +through long practice and his inborn instinct for the significant and +the fresh aspect, quite the best of all contemporary correspondents and +reporters; and his rivals in the past could be easily numbered. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY AUGUSTUS THOMAS +</H3> + +<P> +One spring afternoon in 1889 a member brought into the Lambs Club +house—then on Twenty-sixth Street—as a guest Mr. Richard Harding +Davis. I had not clearly caught the careless introduction, and, +answering my question, Mr. Davis repeated the surname. He did not +pronounce it as would a Middle Westerner like myself, but more as a +citizen of London might. To spell his pronunciation Dyvis is to +burlesque it slightly, but that is as near as it can be given +phonetically. Several other words containing <I>a</I> long a were sounded +by him in the same way, and to my ear the rest of his speech had a +related eccentricity. I am told that other men educated in certain +Philadelphia schools have a similar diction, but at that time many of +Mr. Davis's new acquaintances thought the manner was an affectation. I +mention the peculiarity, which after years convinced me was as native +to him as was the color of his eyes, because I am sure that it was a +barrier between him and some persons who met him only casually. +</P> + +<P> +At that time he was a reporter on a Philadelphia newspaper, and in +appearance was what he continued to be until his death, an unassertive +but self-respecting, level-eyed, clean-toothed, and wholesome athlete. +</P> + +<P> +The reporter developed rapidly into the more serious workman, and +amongst the graver business was that of war correspondent. +</P> + +<P> +I have known fraternally several war correspondents—Dick Davis, Fred +Remington, John Fox, Caspar Whitney, and others—and it seems to me +that, while differing one from another as average men differ, they had +in common a kind of veteran superiority to trivial surprise, a tolerant +world wisdom that mere newspaper work in other departments does not +bring. At any rate, and however acquired, Dick Davis had the quality. +And with that seasoned calm he kept and cultivated the reporter sense. +He had insight—the faculty of going back of appearances. He saw the +potential salients in occurrences and easily separated them from the +commonplace—and the commonplace itself when it was informed by a +spirit that made it helpful did not mislead him by its plainness. +</P> + +<P> +That is another war-correspondent quality. He saw when adherence to +duty approached the heroic. He knew the degree of pressure that gave +it test conditions and he had an unadulterated, plain, bread-and-water +appreciation of it. +</P> + +<P> +I think that fact shows in his stories. He liked enthusiastically to +write of men doing men's work and doing it man fashion with +full-blooded optimism. +</P> + +<P> +At his very best he was in heart and mind a boy grown tall. He had a +boy's undisciplined indifference to great personages not inconsistent +with his admiration of their medals. By temperament he was impulsive +and partisan, and if he was your friend you were right until you were +obviously very wrong. But he liked "good form," and had adopted the +Englishman's code of "things no fellow could do"—therefore his +impulsiveness was without offense and his partisanship was not +quarrelsome. +</P> + +<P> +In the circumstance of this story of "Soldiers of Fortune" he could +himself have been either Clay or Stuart and he had the humor of +MacWilliams. +</P> + +<P> +In the clash between Clay and Stuart, when Clay asks the younger man if +the poster smirching Stuart's relation to Madame Alvarez is true, it is +Davis talking through both men, and when, standing alone, Clay lifts +his hat and addresses the statue of General Bolivar, it is Davis at his +best. +</P> + +<P> +Modern criticism has driven the soliloquy from the theatre, but modern +criticism in that respect is immature and wrong. The soliloquy exists. +Any one observing the number of business men who, talking aloud to +themselves, walk Fifth Avenue any evening may prove it. For Davis the +soliloquy was not courageous; it was simply true. And that was a place +for it. +</P> + +<P> +When "Soldiers of Fortune" was printed it had a quick and a deserved +popularity. It was cheerily North American in its viewpoint of the +sub-tropical republics and was very up to date. The outdoor American +girl was not so established at that time, and the Davis report of her +was refreshing. Robert Clay was unconsciously Dick Davis himself as he +would have tried to do—Captain Stuart was the English officer that +Davis had met the world over, or, closer still, he was the better side +of such men which the attractive wholesomeness of Davis would draw out. +Alice and King were the half-spoiled New Yorkers as he knew them at the +dinner-parties. +</P> + +<P> +At a manager's suggestion Dick made a play of the book. It was his +first attempt for the theatre and lacked somewhat the skill that he +developed later in his admirable "Dictator." I was called in by the +manager as an older carpenter and craftsman to make another dramatic +version. Dick and I were already friends and he already liked plays +that I had done, but that alone could not account for the heartiness +with which he turned over to me his material and eliminated himself. +Only his unspoiled simplicity and utter absence of envy could do that. +Only native modesty could explain the absence of the usual author pride +and sensitiveness. The play was immediately successful. It would have +been a dull hack, indeed, who could have spoiled such excellent stage +material as the novel furnished, but his generosity saw genius in the +dramatic extension of the types he had furnished and in the welding of +additions. Even after enthusiasm had had time enough to cool, he sent +me a first copy of the Playgoers' edition of the novel, printed in +1902, with the inscription: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +TO AUGUSTUS THOMAS: +<BR> +Gratefully, Admiringly, Sincerely. +<BR> +RICHARD HARDING DAVIS. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +And then, as if feeling the formality of the names, he wrote below: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +DEAR GUS, +</P> + +<P> +If you liked this book only one-fifth as much as I like your play, I +would be content to rest on that and spare the public any others. So +for the sake of the public try to like it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +DICK. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +In 1914 a motion-picture company arranged to make a feature film of the +play, and Dick and I went with their outfit to Santiago de Cuba, where, +twenty years earlier, he had found the inspiration for his story and +out of which city and its environs he had fashioned his supposititious +republic of Olancho. On that trip he was the idol of the company. +With the men in the smoking-room of the steamer there were the +numberless playful stories, in the rough, of the experiences on all +five continents and seven seas that were the backgrounds of his +published tales. +</P> + +<P> +At Santiago, if an official was to be persuaded to consent to some +unprecedented seizure of the streets, or a diplomat invoked for the +assistance of the Army or the Navy, it was the experience and good +judgment of Dick Davis that controlled the task. In the field there +were his helpful suggestions of work and make-up to the actors, and on +the boat and train and in hotel and camp the lady members met in him an +easy courtesy and understanding at once fraternal and impersonal. +</P> + +<P> +That picture enterprise he has described in an article, entitled +"Breaking into the Movies," which was printed in Scribner's Magazine. +</P> + +<P> +The element that he could not put into the account, and which is +particularly pertinent to this page, is the author of "Soldiers of +Fortune" as he revealed himself to me both with intention and +unconsciously in the presence of the familiar scenes. +</P> + +<P> +For three weeks, with the exception of one or two occasions when some +local dignitary captured the revisiting lion, he and I spent our +evenings together at a cafe table over looking "the great square," +which he sketches so deftly in its atmosphere when Clay and the +Langhams and Stuart dine there: "At one end of the plaza the +President's band was playing native waltzes that came throbbing through +the trees and beating softly above the rustling skirts and clinking +spurs of the senoritas and officers sweeping by in two opposite circles +around the edges of the tessellated pavements. Above the palms around +the square arose the dim, white facade of the Cathedral, with the +bronze statue of Anduella the liberator of Olancho, who answered with +his upraised arm and cocked hat the cheers of an imaginary populace." +</P> + +<P> +Twenty years had gone by since Dick had received the impression that +wrote those lines, and now sometimes after dinner half a long cigar +would burn out as he mused over the picture and the dreams that had +gone between. From one long silence he said: "I think I'll come back +here this winter and bring Mrs. Davis with me—stay a couple of +months." What a fine compliment to a wife to have the thought of her +and that plan emerge from that deep and romantic background! +</P> + +<P> +And again, later, apropos of nothing but what one guessed from the +dreamer's expressive face, he said: "I had remembered it as so much +larger"—indicating the square—"until I saw it again when we came down +with the army." A tolerant smile—he might have explained that it is +always so on revisiting scenes that have impressed us deeply in our +earlier days, but he let the smile do that. One of his charms as +companion was that restful ability not to talk if you knew it, too. +</P> + +<P> +The picture people began their film with a showing of the "mountains +which jutted out into the ocean and suggested roughly the five knuckles +of a giant's hand clenched and lying flat upon the surface of the +water." That formation of the sea wall is just outside of Santiago. +"The waves tunnelled their way easily enough until they ran up against +those five mountains and then they had to fall back." How natural for +one of us to be unimpressed by such a feature of the landscape, and yet +how characteristic of Dick Davis to see the elemental fight that it +recorded and get the hint for the whole of the engineering struggle +that is so much of his book! +</P> + +<P> +We went over those mountains together, where two decades before he had +planted his banner of romance. We visited the mines and the railroads, +and everywhere found some superintendent or foreman or engineer who +remembered Davis. He had guessed at nothing. Everywhere he had +overlaid the facts with adventure and with beauty, but he had been on +sure footing all the time. His prototype of MacWilliams was dead. +Together we visited the wooden cross with which the miners had marked +his grave. +</P> + +<P> +One is tempted to go choosing through his book again and rob its +surprises by reminiscence—but I refrain. Yet it is only justice to +point out that for "Soldiers of Fortune," as for the "Men of Zanzibar," +"Three Gringos in Venezuela," "The King's Jackal," "Ranson's Folly," +and his other books, he got his structure and his color at first hand. +He was a writer and not a rewriter. And another thing we must note in +his writing is his cleanliness. It is safe stuff to give to a young +fellow who likes to take off his hat and dilate his nostrils and feel +the wind in his face. Like water at the source, it is undefiled. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DAVIS AND THE ROUGH RIDERS +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT +</H3> + +<P> +I knew Richard Harding Davis for many years, and I was among the number +who were immediately drawn to him by the power and originality of +"Gallegher," the story which first made his reputation. +</P> + +<P> +My intimate association with him, however, was while he was with my +regiment in Cuba, He joined us immediately after landing, and was not +merely present at but took part in the fighting. For example, at the +Guasimas fight it was he, I think, with his field-glasses, who first +placed the trench from which the Spaniards were firing at the right +wing of the regiment, which right wing I, at that time, commanded. We +were then able to make out the trench, opened fire on it, and drove out +the Spaniards. +</P> + +<P> +He was indomitably cheerful under hardships and difficulties and +entirely indifferent to his own personal safety or comfort. He so won +the esteem and regard of the regiment that he was one of the three men +we made honorary members of the regiment's association. We gave him +the same medal worn by our own members. +</P> + +<P> +He was as good an American as ever lived and his heart flamed against +cruelty and injustice. His writings form a text-book of Americanism +which all our people would do well to read at the present time. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY IRVIN S. COBB +</H3> + +<P> +Almost the first letter I received after I undertook to make a living +by writing for magazines was signed with the name of Richard Harding +Davis. I barely knew him; practically we were strangers; but if he had +been my own brother he could not have written more generously or more +kindly than he did write in that letter. He, a famous writer, had gone +out of his way to speak words of encouragement to me, an unknown +writer; had taken the time and the pains out of a busy life to cheer a +beginner in the field where he had had so great a measure of success. +</P> + +<P> +When I came to know him better, I found out that such acts as these +were characteristic of Richard Harding Davis. The world knew him as +one of the most vivid and versatile and picturesque writers that our +country has produced in the last half-century, but his friends knew him +as one of the kindest and gentlest and most honest and most unselfish +of men—a real human being, firm in his convictions, steadfast in his +affections, loyal to the ideals by which he held, but tolerant always +in his estimates of others. +</P> + +<P> +He may or may not have been a born writer; sometimes I doubt whether +there is such a thing as a born writer. But this much I do know—he +was a born gentleman if ever there was one. +</P> + +<P> +As a writer his place is assured. But always I shall think of him as +he was in his private life—a typical American, a lovable companion, +and a man to the tips of his fingers. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY JOHN FOX, JR. +</H3> + +<P> +During the twenty years that I knew him Richard Harding Davis was +always going to some far-off land. He was just back from a trip +somewhere when I first saw him in his rooms in New York, rifle in hand, +in his sock feet and with his traps in confusion about him. He was +youth incarnate—ruddy, joyous, vigorous, adventurous, self-confident +youth—and, in all the years since, that first picture of him has +suffered no change with me. He was so intensely alive that I cannot +think of him as dead—and I do not. He is just away on another of +those trips and it really seems queer that I shall not hear him tell +about it. +</P> + +<P> +We were together as correspondents in the Spanish War and in the +Russo-Japanese War we were together again; and so there is hardly any +angle from which I have not had the chance to know him. No man was +ever more misunderstood by those who did not know him or better +understood by those who knew him well, for he carried nothing in the +back of his head—no card that was not face up on the table. Every +thought, idea, purpose, principle within him was for the world to read +and to those who could not know how rigidly he matched his inner and +outer life he was almost unbelievable. He was exacting in friendship +because his standard was high and because he gave what he asked; and if +he told you of a fault he told you first of a virtue that made the +fault seem small indeed. But he told you and expected you to tell him. +</P> + +<P> +Naturally, the indirection of the Japanese was incomprehensible to him. +He was not good at picking up strange tongues, and the Japanese +equivalent for the Saxon monosyllable for what the Japanese was to him +he never learned. For only one other word did he have more use and I +believe it was the only one he knew, "hyaku—hurry!" Over there I was +in constant fear for him because of his knight-errantry and his candor. +Once he came near being involved in a duel because of his quixotic +championship of a woman whom he barely knew, and disliked, and whose +absent husband he did not know at all. And more than once I looked for +a Japanese to draw his two-handed ancestral sword when Dick bluntly +demanded a reconciliation of his yea of yesterday with his nay of +today. Nine months passed and we never heard the whistle of bullet or +shell. Dick called himself a "cherry-blossom correspondent," and when +our ship left those shores each knew that the other went to his +state-room and in bitter chagrin and disappointment wept quite +childishly. +</P> + +<P> +Of course, he was courageous—absurdly so—and, in spite of his +high-strung temperament, always calm and cool. At El Paso hill, the +day after the fight, the rest of us scurried for tree-trunks when a few +bullets whistled near; but Dick stalked out in the open and with his +field-glasses searched for the supposed sharpshooters in the trees. +Lying under a bomb-proof when the Fourth of July bombardment started, I +saw Dick going unhurriedly down the hill for his glasses, which he had +left in Colonel Roosevelt's tent, and unhurriedly going back up to the +trenches again. Under the circumstances I should have been content +with my naked eye. A bullet thudded close to where Dick lay with a +soldier. +</P> + +<P> +"That hit you?" asked Dick. The soldier grunted "No," looked sidewise +at Dick, and muttered an oath of surprise. Dick had not taken his +glasses from his eyes. I saw him writhing on the ground with sciatica +during that campaign, like a snake, but pulling his twisted figure +straight and his tortured face into a smile if a soldier or stranger +passed. +</P> + +<P> +He was easily the first reporter of his time—perhaps of all time. Out +of any incident or situation he could pick the most details that would +interest the most people and put them in a way that was pleasing to the +most people; and always, it seemed, he had the extraordinary good +judgment or the extraordinary good luck to be just where the most +interesting thing was taking place. Gouverneur Morris has written the +last word about Richard Harding Davis, and he, as every one must, laid +final stress on the clean body, clean heart, and clean mind of the man. +R. H. D. never wrote a line that cannot be given to his little daughter +when she is old enough to read, and I never heard a word pass his lips +that his own mother could not hear. There are many women in the world +like the women in his books. There are a few men like the men, and of +these Dick himself was one. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE +</H3> + +<P> +In the articles about Mr. Davis that have appeared since his death, the +personality of the man seems to overshadow the merit of the author. In +dealing with the individual the writers overlook the fact that we have +lost one of the best of our story-tellers. This is but natural. He +was a very vivid kind of person. He had thousands of friends in all +parts of the world, and a properly proportionate number of enemies, and +those who knew him were less interested in the books than in the man +himself—the generous, romantic, sensitive individual whose character +and characteristics made him a conspicuous figure everywhere he +went—and he went everywhere. His books were sold in great numbers, +but it might be said in terms of the trade that his personality had a +larger circulation than his literature. He probably knew more waiters, +generals, actors, and princes than any man who ever lived, and the +people he knew best are not the people who read books. They write them +or are a part of them. Besides, if you knew Richard Davis you knew his +books. He translated himself literally, and no expurgation was needed +to make the translation suitable for the most innocent eyes. He was +the identical chivalrous young American or Englishman who strides +through his pages in battalions to romantic death or romantic marriage. +Every one speaks of the extraordinary youthfulness of his mind, which +was still fresh at an age when most men find avarice or golf a +substitute for former pastimes. He not only refused to grow old +himself, he refused to write about old age. There are a few elderly +people in his books, but they are vague and shadowy. They serve to +emphasize the brightness of youth, and are quickly blown away when the +time for action arrives. But if he numbered his friends and +acquaintances by the thousands there are other thousands in this +country who have read his books, and they know, even better than those +who were acquainted with him personally, how good a friend they have +lost. I happened to read again the other day the little collection of +stories—his first, I think—which commences with "Gallegher" and +includes "The Other Woman" and one or more of the Van Bibber tales. +His first stories were not his best. He increased in skill and was +stronger at the finish than at the start. But "Gallegher" is a fine +story, and is written in that eager, breathless manner which was all +his own, and which always reminds me of a boy who has hurried home to +tell of some wonderful thing he has seen. Of course it is improbable. +Most good stories are and practically all readable books of history. +No old newspaper man can believe that there ever existed such a "copy +boy" as Gallegher, or that a murderer with a finger missing from one +hand could escape detection even in a remote country village. Greed +would have urged the constable to haul to the calaboose every stranger +who wore gloves. But he managed to attach so many accurate details of +description to the romance that it leaves as definite an impression of +realism as any of Mr. Howells's purposely realistic stories. The scene +in the newspaper office, the picture of the prize-fight, the mixture of +toughs and swells, the spectators in their short gray overcoats with +pearl buttons (like most good story-tellers he was strong on the +tailoring touch), the talk of cabmen and policemen, the swiftness of +the way the story is told, as if he were in a hurry to let his reader +know something he had actually seen—create such an impression of truth +that when the reader finishes he finds himself picturing Gallegher on +the witness-stand at the murder trial receiving the thanks of the +judge. And he wonders what became of this precocious infant, and +whether he was rewarded in time by receiving the hand of the sister of +the sporting editor in marriage. +</P> + +<P> +To give the appearance of truth to the truth is the despair of writers, +but Mr. Davis had the faculty of giving the appearance of the truth to +situations that in human experience could hardly exist. The same +quality that showed in his tales made him the most readable of war +correspondents. He went to all the wars of his youth and middle age +filled with visions of glorious action. Where other correspondents saw +and reported evil-smelling camps, ghastly wounds, unthinkable +suffering, blunders, good luck and bad luck, or treated the subject +with a mathematical precision that would have given Clausewitz a +headache, Davis saw and reported it first of all as a romance, and then +filled in the story with human details, so that the reader came away +with an impression that all these heroic deeds were performed by people +just like the reader himself, which was exactly the truth. +</P> + +<P> +It is a pity that the brutality of the German staff officers and the +stupidity of the French and English prevented him from seeing the +actual fighting in Flanders and Picardy. The scene is an ugly one, a +wallow of blood and mire. But so probably were Agincourt and Crecy +when you come to think of it, and Davis, you may be sure, would have +illuminated the foul battle-field with a reflection of the glory which +must exist in the breasts of the soldiers. +</P> + +<P> +The fact is, he was the owner of a most enviable pair of eyes, which +reported to him only what was pleasant and encouraging. A man is +blessed or cursed by what his eyes see. To some people the world of +men is a confused and undecipherable puzzle. To Mr. Davis it was a +simple and pleasant pattern—good and bad, honest and dishonest, kind +and cruel, with the good, the honest, and the kind rewarded; the bad, +the dishonest, and the cruel punished; where the heroes are modest, the +brave generous, the women lovely, the bus-drivers humorous; where the +Prodigal returns to dine in a borrowed dinner-jacket at Delmonico's +with his father, and where always the Young Man marries the Girl. And +this is the world as much as Balzac's is the world, if it is the world +as you see it. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY WINSTON CHURCHHILL +</H3> + +<P> +On that day when I read of Mr. Davis's sudden death there came back to +me a vivid memory of another day, some eighteen years ago, when I first +met him, shortly after the publication of my first novel. I was paying +an over-Sunday visit to Marion, that quaint waterside resort where Mr. +Davis lived for many years, and with which his name is associated. On +the Monday morning, as the stage started out for the station, a young +man came running after it, caught it, and sat down in the only empty +place—beside me. He was Richard Harding Davis. I recognized him, nor +shall I forget that peculiar thrill I experienced at finding myself in +actual, physical contact with an author. And that this author should +be none other than the creator of Gallegher, prepossessing, vigorous, +rather than a dry and elderly recluse, made my excitement the keener. +It happened also, after entering the smoking-car, that the remaining +vacant seat was at my side, and here Mr. Davis established himself. He +looked at me, he asked if my name was Winston Churchill, he said he had +read my book. How he guessed my identity I did not discover. But the +recollection of our talk, the strong impression I then received of Mr. +Davis's vitality and personality, the liking I conceived for him—these +have neither changed nor faded with the years, and I recall with +gratitude to-day the kindliness, the sense of fellowship always so +strong in him that impelled him to speak as he did. A month before he +died, when I met him on the train going to Mt. Kisco, he had not +changed. His enthusiasms, his vigor, his fine passions, his fondness +for his friends, these, nor the joy he found in the pursuit of his +profession, had not faded. And there come to me now, as I think of him +filled with life, flashes from his writings that have moved me, and +move me indescribably still. "Le Style," as Rolland remarks, "c'est +l'ame." It was so in Mr. Davis's case. He had the rare faculty of +stirring by a phrase the imaginations of men, of including in a phrase +a picture, an event—a cataclysm. Such a phrase was that in which he +described the entry of German hosts into Brussels. He was not a man, +when enlisted in a cause, to count the cost to himself. Many causes +will miss him, and many friends, and many admirers, yet his personality +remains with us forever, in his work. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY LEONARD WOOD +</H3> + +<P> +The death of Richard Harding Davis was a real loss to the movement for +preparedness. Mr. Davis had an extensive experience as a military +observer, and thoroughly appreciated the need of a general training +system like that of Australia or Switzerland and of thorough +organization of our industrial resources in order to establish a +condition of reasonable preparedness in this country. A few days +before his death he came to Governor's Island for the purpose of +ascertaining in what line of work he could be most useful in building +up sound public opinion in favor of such preparedness as would give us +a real peace-insurance. His mind was bent on devoting his energies and +abilities to the work of public education on this vitally important +subject, and few men were better qualified to do so, for he had served +as a military observer in many campaigns. +</P> + +<P> +Throughout the Cuban campaign he was attached to the headquarters of my +regiment in Cuba as a military observer. He was with the advanced +party at the opening of the fight at Las Guasimas, and was +distinguished throughout the fight by coolness and good conduct. He +also participated in the battle of San Juan and the siege of Santiago, +and as an observer was always where duty called him. He was a +delightful companion, cheerful, resourceful, and thoughtful of the +interests and wishes of others. His reports of the campaign were +valuable and among the best and most accurate. +</P> + +<P> +The Plattsburg movement took very strong hold of him. He saw in this a +great instrument for building up a sound knowledge concerning our +military history and policy, also a very practical way of training men +for the duties of junior officers. He realized fully that we should +need in case of war tens of thousands of officers with our newly raised +troops, and that it would be utterly impossible to prepare them in the +hurry and confusion of the onrush of modern war. His heart was filled +with a desire to serve his country to the best of his ability. His +recent experience in Europe pointed out to him the absolute madness of +longer disregarding the need of doing those things which reasonable +preparedness dictates, the things which cannot be accomplished after +trouble is upon us. He had in mind at the time of his death a series +of articles to be written especially to build up interest in universal +military training through conveying to our people an understanding of +what organization as it exists to-day means, and how vitally important +it is for our people to do in time of peace those things which modern +war does not permit done once it is under way. +</P> + +<P> +Davis was a loyal friend, a thoroughgoing American devoted to the best +interests of his country, courageous, sympathetic, and true. His loss +has been a very real one to all of us who knew and appreciated him, and +in his death the cause of preparedness has lost an able worker and the +country a devoted and loyal citizen. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WITH DAVIS IN VERA CRUZ, BRUSSELS, AND SALONIKA +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY JOHN T. McCRUTCHEON +</H3> + +<P> +In common with many others who have been with Richard Harding Davis as +correspondents, I find it difficult to realize that he has covered his +last story and that he will not be seen again with the men who follow +the war game, rushing to distant places upon which the spotlight of +news interest suddenly centres. +</P> + +<P> +It seems a sort of bitter irony that he who had covered so many big +events of world importance in the past twenty years should be abruptly +torn away in the midst of the greatest event of them all, while the +story is still unfinished and its outcome undetermined. If there is a +compensating thought, it ties in the reflection that he had a life of +almost unparalleled fulness, crowded to the brim, up to the last +moment, with those experiences and achievements which he particularly +aspired to have. He left while the tide was at its flood, and while he +still held supreme his place as the best reporter in his country. He +escaped the bitterness of seeing the ebb set in, when the youth to +which he clung had slipped away, and when he would have to sit +impatient in the audience, while younger men were in the thick of +great, world-stirring dramas on the stage. +</P> + +<P> +This would have been a real tragedy in "Dick" Davis's case, for, while +his body would have aged, it is doubtful if his spirit ever would have +lost its youthful freshness or boyish enthusiasm. +</P> + +<P> +It was my privilege to see a good deal of Davis in the last two years. +</P> + +<P> +He arrived in Vera Cruz among the first of the sixty or seventy +correspondents who flocked to that news centre when the situation was +so full of sensational possibilities. It was a time when the American +newspaper-reading public was eager for thrills, and the ingenuity and +resourcefulness of the correspondents in Vera Cruz were tried to the +uttermost to supply the demand. +</P> + +<P> +In the face of the fiercest competition it fell to Davis's lot to land +the biggest story of those days of marking time. The story "broke" +when it became known that Davis, Medill McCormick, and Frederick Palmer +had gone through the Mexican lines in an effort to reach Mexico City. +Davis and McCormick, with letters to the Brazilian and British +ministers, got through and reached the capital on the strength of those +letters, but Palmer, having only an American passport, was turned back. +</P> + +<P> +After an ominous silence, which furnished American newspapers with a +lively period of suspense, the two men returned safely with wonderful +stories of their experiences while under arrest in the hands of the +Mexican authorities. McCormick, in recently speaking of Davis at that +time, said that, "as a correspondent in difficult and dangerous +situations, he was incomparable—cheerful, ingenious, and +undiscouraged. When the time came to choose between safety and leaving +his companion he stuck by his fellow captive even though, as they both +said, a firing-squad and a blank wall were by no means a remote +possibility." This Mexico City adventure was a spectacular achievement +which gave Davis and McCormick a distinction which no other +correspondents of all the ambitious and able corps had managed to +attain. +</P> + +<P> +Davis usually "hunted" alone. He depended entirely upon his own +ingenuity and wonderful instinct for news situations. He had the +energy and enthusiasm of a beginner, with the experience and training +of a veteran. His interest in things remained as keen as though he had +not been years at a game which often leaves a man jaded and blase. His +acquaintanceship in the American army and navy was wide, and for this +reason, as well as for the prestige which his fame and position as a +national character gave him, he found it easy to establish valuable +connections in the channels from which news emanates. And yet, in +spite of the fact that he was "on his own" instead of having a working +partnership with other men, he was generous in helping at times when he +was able to do so. Davis was a conspicuous figure in Vera Cruz, as he +inevitably had been in all such situations. Wherever he went he was +pointed out. His distinction of appearance, together with a +distinction in dress, which, whether from habit or policy, was a +valuable asset in his work, made him a marked man. He dressed and +looked the "war correspondent," such a one as he would describe in one +of his stories. He fulfilled the popular ideal of what a member of +that fascinating profession should look like. His code of life and +habits was as fixed as that of the Briton who takes his habits and +customs and games and tea wherever he goes, no matter how benighted or +remote the spot may be. +</P> + +<P> +He was just as loyal to his code as is the Briton. He carried his +bath-tub, his immaculate linen, his evening clothes, his war +equipment—in which he had the pride of a connoisseur—wherever he +went, and, what is more, he had the courage to use the evening clothes +at times when their use was conspicuous. He was the only man who wore +a dinner coat in Vera Cruz, and each night, at his particular table in +the crowded "Portales," at the Hotel Diligencia, he was to be seen, as +fresh and clean as though he were in a New York or London restaurant. +</P> + +<P> +Each day he was up early to take the train out to the "gap," across +which came arrivals from Mexico City. Sometimes a good "story" would +come down, as when the long-heralded and long-expected arrival of +Consul Silliman gave a first-page "feature" to all the American papers. +</P> + +<P> +In the afternoon he would play water polo over at the navy aviation +camp, and always at a certain time of the day his "striker" would bring +him his horse and for an hour or more he would ride out along the beach +roads within the American lines. +</P> + +<P> +After the first few days it was difficult to extract real thrills from +the Vera Cruz situation, but we used to ride out to El Tejar with the +cavalry patrol and imagine that we might be fired on at some point in +the long ride through unoccupied territory; or else go out to the +"front," at Legarto, where a little American force occupied a sun-baked +row of freight-cars, surrounded by malarial swamps. From the top of +the railroad water-tank we could look across to the Mexican outposts a +mile or so away. It was not very exciting, and what thrills we got lay +chiefly in our imagination. +</P> + +<P> +Before my acquaintanceship with Davis at Vera Cruz I had not known him +well. Our trails didn't cross while I was in Japan in the +Japanese-Russian War, and in the Transvaal I missed him by a few days, +but in Vera Cruz I had many enjoyable opportunities of becoming well +acquainted with him. +</P> + +<P> +The privilege was a pleasant one, for it served to dispel a +preconceived and not an entirely favorable impression of his character. +For years I had heard stories about Richard Harding Davis—stories +which emphasized an egotism and self-assertiveness which, if they ever +existed, had happily ceased to be obtrusive by the time I got to know +him. +</P> + +<P> +He was a different Davis from the Davis whom I had expected to find; +and I can imagine no more charming and delightful companion than he was +in Vera Cruz. There was no evidence of those qualities which I feared +to find, and his attitude was one of unfailing kindness, +considerateness, and generosity. +</P> + +<P> +In the many talks I had with him I was always struck by his evident +devotion to a fixed code of personal conduct. In his writings he was +the interpreter of chivalrous, well-bred youth, and his heroes were +young, clean-thinking college men, heroic big-game hunters, war +correspondents, and idealized men about town, who always did the noble +thing, disdaining the unworthy in act or motive. It seemed to me that +he was modelling his own life, perhaps unconsciously, after the favored +types which his imagination had created for his stories. In a certain +sense he was living a life of make believe, wherein he was the hero of +the story, and in which he was bound by his ideals always to act as he +would have the hero of his story act. It was a quality which only one +could have who had preserved a fresh youthfulness of outlook in spite +of the hardening processes of maturity. +</P> + +<P> +His power of observation was extraordinarily keen, and he not only had +the rare gift of sensing the vital elements of a situation, but also +had, to an unrivalled degree, the ability to describe them vividly. I +don't know how many of those men at Vera Cruz tried to describe the +kaleidoscopic life of the city during the American occupation, but I +know that Davis's story was far and away the most faithful and +satisfying picture. The story was photographic, even to the sounds and +smells. +</P> + +<P> +The last I saw of him in Vera Cruz was when, on the Utah, he steamed +past the flagship Wyoming, upon which I was quartered, and started for +New York. The Battenberg cup race had just been rowed, and the Utah +and Florida crews had tied. As the Utah was sailing immediately after +the race, there was no time in which to row off the tie. So it was +decided that the names of both ships should be engraved on the cup, and +that the Florida crew should defend the title against a challenging +crew from the British Admiral Craddock's flagship. +</P> + +<P> +By the end of June, the public interest in Vera Cruz had waned, and the +corps of correspondents dwindled until there were only a few left. +</P> + +<P> +Frederick Palmer and I went up to join Carranza and Villa, and on the +26th of July we were in Monterey waiting to start with the triumphal +march of Carranza's army toward Mexico City. There was no sign of +serious trouble, abroad. That night ominous telegrams came, and at ten +o'clock on the following morning we were on a train headed for the +States. +</P> + +<P> +Palmer and Davis caught the Lusitania, sailing August 4 from New York, +and I followed on the Saint Paul, leaving three days later. On the +17th of August I reached Brussels, and it seemed the most natural thing +in the world to find Davis already there. He was at the Palace Hotel, +where a number of American and English correspondents were quartered. +</P> + +<P> +Things moved quickly. On the 19th Irvin Cobb, Will Irwin, Arno Dosch, +and I were caught between the Belgian and German lines in Louvain; our +retreat to Brussels was cut, and for three days, while the vast German +army moved through the city, we were detained. Then, the army having +passed, we were allowed to go back to the capital. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime Davis was in Brussels. The Germans reached the +outskirts of the city on the morning of the 20th, and the +correspondents who had remained in Brussels were feverishly writing +despatches describing the imminent fall of the city. One of them, +Harry Hansen, of the Chicago Daily News, tells the following story, +which I give in his words: "While we were writing," says Hansen, +"Richard Harding Davis walked into the writing-room of the Palace Hotel +with a bunch of manuscript in his hand. With an amused expression he +surveyed the three correspondents filling white paper. +</P> + +<P> +"'I say, men,' said Davis, 'do you know when the next train leaves?' +</P> + +<P> +"'There is one at three o'clock,' said a correspondent, looking up. +</P> + +<P> +"'That looks like our only chance to get a story out,' said Davis. +'Well, we'll trust to that.' +</P> + +<P> +"The story was the German invasion of Brussels, and the train mentioned +was considered the forlorn hope of the correspondents to connect with +the outside world—that is, every correspondent thought it to be the +OTHER man's hope. Secretly each had prepared to outwit the other, and +secretly Davis had already sent his story to Ostend. He meant to +emulate Archibald Forbes, who despatched a courier with his real +manuscript, and next day publicly dropped a bulky package in the +mail-bag. Davis had sensed the news in the occupation of Brussels long +before it happened. With dawn he went out to the Louvain road, where +the German army stood, prepared to smash the capital if negotiations +failed. His observant eye took in all the details. Before noon he had +written a comprehensive sketch of the occupation, and when word was +received that it was under way, he trusted his copy to an old Flemish +woman, who spoke not a word of English, and saw her safely on board the +train that pulled out under Belgian auspices for Ostend." +</P> + +<P> +With passes which the German commandant in Brussels gave us the +correspondents immediately started out to see how far those passes +would carry us. A number of us left on the afternoon of August 23 for +Waterloo, where it was expected that the great clash between the German +and the Anglo-French forces would occur. We had planned to be back the +same evening, and went prepared only for an afternoon's drive in a +couple of hired street carriages. It was seven weeks before we again +saw Brussels. On the following day (August 24) Davis started for Mons. +He wore the khaki uniform which he had worn in many campaigns. Across +his breast was a narrow bar of silk ribbon indicating the campaigns in +which he had served as a correspondent. He so much resembled a British +officer that he was arrested as a British derelict and was informed +that he would be shot at once. +</P> + +<P> +He escaped only by offering to walk to Brand Whitlock, in Brussels, +reporting to each officer he met on the way. His plan was approved, +and as a hostage on parole he appeared before the American minister, +who quickly established his identity as an American of good standing, +to the satisfaction of the Germans. +</P> + +<P> +In the following few months our trails were widely separated. I read +of his arrest by German officers on the road to Mons; later I read the +story of his departure from Brussels by train to Holland—a trip which +carried him through Louvain while the town still was burning; and still +later I read that he was with the few lucky men who were in Rheims +during one of the early bombardments that damaged the cathedral. By +amazing luck, combined with a natural news sense which drew him +instinctively to critical places at the psychological moment, he had +been a witness of the two most widely featured stories of the early +weeks of the war. +</P> + +<P> +Arrested by the Germans in Belgium, and later by the French in France, +he was convinced that the restrictions on correspondents were too great +to permit of good work. +</P> + +<P> +So he left the European war zone with the widely quoted remark: "The +day of the war correspondent is over." +</P> + +<P> +And yet I was not surprised when, one evening, late in November of last +year, he suddenly walked into the room in Salonika where William G. +Shepherd, of the United Press, "Jimmy Hare," the veteran war +photographer, and I had established ourselves several weeks before. +</P> + +<P> +The hotel was jammed, and the city, with a normal capacity of about one +hundred and seventy-five thousand, was struggling to accommodate at +least a hundred thousand more. There was not a room to be had in any +of the better hotels, and for several days we lodged Davis in our room, +a vast chamber which formerly had been the main dining-room of the +establishment, and which now was converted into a bedroom. There was +room for a dozen men, if necessary, and whenever stranded Americans +arrived and could find no hotel accommodations we simply rigged up +emergency cots for their temporary use. +</P> + +<P> +The weather in Salonika at this time, late November, was penetratingly +cold. In the mornings the steam coils struggled feebly to dispel the +chill in the room. +</P> + +<P> +Early in the morning after Davis had arrived, we were aroused by the +sound of violent splashing, accompanied by shuddering gasps, and we +looked out from the snug warmth of our beds to see Davis standing in +his portable bath-tub and drenching himself with ice-cold water. As an +exhibition of courageous devotion to an established custom of life it +was admirable, but I'm not sure that it was prudent. +</P> + +<P> +For some reason, perhaps a defective circulation or a weakened heart, +his system failed to react from these cold-water baths. All through +the days he complained of feeling chilled. He never seemed to get +thoroughly warmed, and of us all he was the one who suffered most +keenly from the cold. It was all the more surprising, for his +appearance was always that of a man in the pink of athletic +fitness—ruddy-faced, clear-eyed, and full of tireless energy. +</P> + +<P> +On one occasion we returned from the French front in Serbia to Salonika +in a box car lighted only by candles, bitterly cold, and frightfully +exhausting. We were seven hours in travelling fifty-five miles, and we +arrived at our destination at three o'clock in the morning. Several of +the men contracted desperate colds, which clung to them for weeks. +Davis was chilled through, and said that of all the cold he had ever +experienced that which swept across the Macedonian plain from the +Balkan highlands was the most penetrating. Even his heavy clothing +could not afford him adequate protection. +</P> + +<P> +When he was settled in his own room in our hotel he installed an +oil-stove which burned beside him as he sat at his desk and wrote his +stories. The room was like an oven, but even then he still complained +of the cold. +</P> + +<P> +When he left he gave us the stove, and when we left, some time later, +it was presented to one of our doctor friends out in a British +hospital, where I'm sure it is doing its best to thaw the Balkan chill +out of sick and wounded soldiers. +</P> + +<P> +Davis was always up early, and his energy and interest were as keen as +a boy's. We had our meals together, sometimes in the crowded and +rather smart Bastasini's, but more often in the maelstrom of humanity +that nightly packed the Olympos Palace restaurant. Davis, Shepherd, +Hare, and I, with sometimes Mr. and Mrs. John Bass, made up these +parties, which, for a period of about two weeks or so, were the most +enjoyable daily events of our lives. +</P> + +<P> +Under the glaring lights of the restaurant, and surrounded by British, +French, Greek, and Serbian officers, German, Austrian, and Bulgarian +civilians, with a sprinkling of American, English, and Scotch nurses +and doctors, packed so solidly in the huge, high-ceilinged room that +the waiters could barely pick their way among the tables, we hung for +hours over our dinners, and left only when the landlord and his +Austrian wife counted the day's receipts and paid the waiters at the +end of the evening. +</P> + +<P> +One could not imagine a more charming and delightful companion than +Davis during these days. While he always asserted that he could not +make a speech, and was terrified at the thought of standing up at a +banquet-table, yet, sitting at a dinner-table with a few friends who +were only too eager to listen rather than to talk, his stories, +covering personal experiences in all parts of the world, were intensely +vivid, with that remarkable "holding" quality of description which +characterizes his writings. +</P> + +<P> +He brought his own bread—a coarse, brown sort, which he preferred to +the better white bread—and with it he ate great quantities of butter. +As we sat down at the table his first demand was for "Mastika," a +peculiar Greek drink distilled from mastic gum, and his second demand +invariably was "Du beurre!" with the "r's" as silent as the stars; and +if it failed to come at once the waiter was made to feel the enormity +of his tardiness. +</P> + +<P> +The reminiscences ranged from his early newspaper days in Philadelphia, +and skipping from Manchuria to Cuba and Central America, to his early +Sun days under Arthur Brisbane; they ranged through an endless variety +of personal experiences which very nearly covered the whole course of +American history in the past twenty years. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps to him it was pleasant to go over his remarkable adventures, +but it could not have been half as pleasant as it was to hear them, +told as they were with a keenness of description and brilliancy of +humorous comment that made them gems of narrative. +</P> + +<P> +At times, in our work, we all tried our hands at describing the +Salonika of those early days of the Allied occupation, for it was +really what one widely travelled British officer called it—"the most +amazingly interesting situation I've ever seen"—but Davis's +description was far and away the best, just as his description of Vera +Cruz was the best, and his wonderful story of the entry of the German +army into Brussels was matchless as one of the great pieces of +reporting in the present war. +</P> + +<P> +In thinking of Davis, I shall always remember him for the delightful +qualities which he showed in Salonika. He was unfailingly considerate +and thoughtful. Through his narratives one could see the pride which +he took in the width and breadth of his personal relation to the great +events of the past twenty years. His vast scope of experiences and +equally wide acquaintanceship with the big figures of our time, were +amazing, and it was equally amazing that one of such a rich and +interesting history could tell his stories in such a simple way that +the personal element was never obtrusive. +</P> + +<P> +When he left Salonika he endeavored to obtain permission from the +British staff to visit Moudros, but, failing in this, he booked his +passage on a crowded little Greek steamer, where the only obtainable +accommodation was a lounge in the dining-saloon. We gave him a +farewell dinner, at which the American consul and his family, with all +the other Americans then in Salonika, were present, and after the +dinner we rowed out to his ship and saw him very uncomfortably +installed for his voyage. +</P> + +<P> +He came down the sea ladder and waved his hand as we rowed away. That +was the last I saw of Richard Harding Davis. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Appreciations of Richard Harding Davis, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK APPREC. 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