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diff --git a/old/66991-0.txt b/old/66991-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3efae82..0000000 --- a/old/66991-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16222 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Memories and Adventures, by Arthur -Conan Doyle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Memories and Adventures - -Author: Arthur Conan Doyle - -Release Date: December 21, 2021 [eBook #66991] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, Thomas Frost and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMORIES AND ADVENTURES *** - - - - - -MEMORIES AND ADVENTURES - - - [Illustration: ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE. - - _Nelson Evans, Los Angeles._ - _Taken in America, 1923._] - - - - MEMORIES AND - ADVENTURES - - - BY - SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE - - -WITH ILLUSTRATIONS - - -[Illustration] - - - BOSTON - LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY - 1924 - - - - - _Copyright, 1924_, - BY ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE - - -_All rights reserved_ - -Published September, 1924 - - -PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I EARLY RECOLLECTIONS 1 - - Extraction--“H.B.”--Four Remarkable Brothers - --My Mother’s Family Tree--An Unrecognized - Genius--My First Knockout--Thackeray--The - Fenians--Early Reading--My First Story. - - - II UNDER THE JESUITS 8 - - The Preparatory School--The Mistakes of Education - --Spartan Schooling--Corporal Punishment-- - Well-known School Fellows--Gloomy Forecasts-- - Poetry--London Matriculation--German School--A - Happy Year--The Jesuits--Strange Arrival in Paris. - - - III RECOLLECTIONS OF A STUDENT 17 - - Edinburgh University--A Sad Disappointment-- - Original of Professor Challenger--Of Sherlock - Holmes--Deductions--Sheffield--Ruyton--Birmingham - --Literary Aspirations--First Accepted Story-- - My Father’s Death--Mental Position--Spiritual - Yearnings--An Awkward Business. - - - IV WHALING IN THE ARCTIC OCEAN 29 - - The _Hope_--John Gray--Boxing--The Terrible - Mate--Our Criminal--First Sight of a Woman--A - Hurricane--Dangers of the Fishing--Three - Dips in the Arctic--The Idlers’ Boat--Whale - Taking--Glamour of the Arctic--Effect of Voyage. - - - V THE VOYAGE TO WEST AFRICA 42 - - The _Mayumba_--Fearful Weather--An Escape - --Hanno’s Voyage--Atlantis--A Land of Death-- - Blackwater Fever--Missionaries--Strange - Fish--Danger of Luxury--A Foolish Swim--The - Ship on Fire--England Once More. - - - VI MY FIRST EXPERIENCES IN PRACTICE 52 - - A Strange Character--His Honeymoon--His Bristol - Practice--Telegram from Plymouth--Six - Amusing Weeks--A Deep Plot--My Southsea Venture - --Furnishing on the Cheap--The Plot Explodes. - - - VII MY START AT SOUTHSEA 59 - - A Strange Life--Arrival of My Brother--I Buy Up - a Shop--Cheap Servants--Queer Patients--Dangers - of Medical Practice--Income Tax Joke--My - Marriage--Tragedy in My House--A New Phase. - - - VIII MY FIRST LITERARY SUCCESS 67 - - New Outlook--James Payn--Genesis of Holmes--“A - Study in Scarlet”--“Micah Clarke”--Disappointments - --Andrew Lang--Cornhill Dinner--Oscar Wilde-- - His Criticism of Himself--“The White Company.” - - - IX PULLING UP THE ANCHOR 77 - - Psychic Studies--Experiments in Telepathy--My - First Séances--A Curious Test--General Drayson - --Opinion on Theosophy--A. P. Sinnett--W. T. - Stead--Journey to Berlin--Koch’s Treatment - --Brutality of Bergmann--Malcolm Morris-- - Literary Society--Political Work--Arthur - Balfour--Our Departure. - - - X THE GREAT BREAK 88 - - Vienna--A Specialist in Wimpole Street--The - Great Decision--Norwood--“The Refugees” - --Reported Death of Holmes. - - - XI SIDELIGHTS ON SHERLOCK HOLMES 96 - - “The Speckled Band”--Barrie’s Parody on Holmes - --Holmes on the Films--Methods of Construction - --Problems--Curious Letters--Some Personal - Cases--Strange Happenings. - - - XII NORWOOD AND SWITZERLAND 111 - - Psychic Research Society--Psychic Leanings - --Literary Circles in London--Young Writers - --Henry Irving--A Great Blow--Davos--“Brigadier - Gerard”--Major Pond--American Lecturing - in 1894--First Lecture--Anti-British - Wave--Answer to Prayer. - - - XIII EGYPT IN 1896 121 - - Life in Egypt--Accident--The Men Who Made - Egypt--Up the Nile--The Salt Lakes--Adventure - in the Desert--The Coptic Monastery--Colonel - Lewis--A Surprise. - - - XIV ON THE EDGE OF A STORM 130 - - The Storm Centre--To the Frontier--Assouan - --Excited Officers--With the Press Men--A - Long Camel Ride--Night Marches--Halfa--Gwynne - of the “Morning Post”--Anley--A Sudden - Voyage--Apricots and Rousseau. - - - XV AN INTERLUDE OF PEACE 140 - - Hindhead--“A Duet”--A Haunted House--A - Curious Society--Preternatural Powers--The - Little Doctor--The Shadow of Africa. - - - XVI THE START FOR SOUTH AFRICA 148 - - The Black Week--Volunteering--The Langman - Hospital--The Voyage--Bloemfontein--Sir - Claude de Crespigny--The Epidemic--Advance - to the Water Works. - - - XVII DAYS WITH THE ARMY 160 - - Pole-Carew--Tucker--Snipers--The Looted Farm-- - Taking of Brandfort--Artillery Engagement-- - Advance of the Guards--The Wounded Scout--The - Dead Australian--Return. - - - XVIII FINAL EXPERIENCES IN SOUTH AFRICA 174 - - Military Jealousies--Football--Cracked Ribs-- - A Mutiny--De Wet--A Historian under Difficulties - --Pretoria--Lord Roberts--With the Boers-- - Memorable Operation--Altercation. - - - XIX AN APPEAL TO THE WORLD’S OPINION 184 - - Misrepresentation--A Sudden Resolve--Reginald - Smith--A Week’s Hard Work--“The Cause - and Conduct of the War”--Translations--German - Letter--Complete Success--Surplus. - - - XX MY POLITICAL ADVENTURES 195 - - Central Edinburgh--A Knock-out--The Border - Burghs--Tariff Reform--Heckling--Interpolations - --Defeat--Reflections. - - - XXI THE YEARS BETWEEN THE WARS 204 - - “History of the War”--Sir Oliver Lodge-- - Military Arguments--“Sir Nigel”--The Edalji - Case--Crowborough--The Oscar Slater Case. - - - XXII THE YEARS BETWEEN THE WARS 222 - - Constantinople--The Night of Power--A Strange - Creature--Dorando--Dramatic Adventures--The - Congo Agitation--Olympic Games--Divorce - Reform--Psychic Experience--Speculation. - - - XXIII SOME NOTABLE PEOPLE 236 - - President Roosevelt--Lord Balfour--Mr. Asquith - --Lord Haldane--George Meredith--Rudyard - Kipling--James Barrie--Henry Irving--Bernard - Shaw--R. L. S.--Grant Allen--James - Payn--Henry Thompson--Royalty. - - - XXIV SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF SPORT 262 - - Racing--Shooting--A Fish Story--Boxing--Past - and Present--Carpentier and France--The Reno - Fight--Football--Golf with the Sirdar--Billiards - --Cricket--W. G. Grace--Queer Experiences - --Tragic Matches--Humiliation--Success - in Holland--Barrie’s Team--A Precedent--Motor - Accidents--Prince Henry Tour--Aviation--The - Balloon and the Aeroplane--Ski--Over - a Precipice--Rifle Shooting. - - - XXV TO THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS IN 1914 287 - - Baseball--Parkman--Ticonderoga--Prairie Towns - --Procession of Ceres--Relics of the Past--A - Moose--Prospects for Emigrants--Jasper Park-- - The Great Divide--Algonquin Park. - - - XXVI THE EVE OF WAR 304 - - The Prologue of Armageddon--The “Prince Henry” - Race--Bernhardi--“England and the Next - War”--“Danger”--General Sir H. Wilson--The - Channel Tunnel--Naval Defects--Rubber - Collars--Mines--Willie Redmond. - - - XXVII A REMEMBRANCE OF THE DARK YEARS 323 - - Nightmares of the Morning--The Civilian Reserve - --The Volunteers--Domestic Life in War Time-- - German Prisoners--Cipher to Our Prisoners--Sir - John French--Empress Eugenie--Miracle - Town--Armour--Our Tragedy. - - - XXVIII EXPERIENCES ON THE BRITISH FRONT 335 - - Lord Newton--How I Got Out--Sir W. Robertson--The - Destroyer--First Experience of Trenches--Ceremony - at Bethune--Mother--The Ypres - Salient--Ypres--The Hull Territorial--General - Sir Douglas Haig--Artillery Duel--Kingsley--Major - Wood--Paris. - - - XXIX EXPERIENCES ON THE ITALIAN FRONT 353 - - The Polite Front--Udine--Under Fire--Carnic - Alps--Italia Irredenta--Trentino--The Voice - of the Holy Roman Empire. - - - XXX EXPERIENCES ON THE FRENCH FRONT 360 - - A Dreadful Reception--Robert Donald--Clemenceau - --Soissons Cathedral--The Commandant’s - Cane--The Extreme Outpost--Adonis--General - Henneque--Cyrano in the Argonne--Tir - Rapide--French Canadian--Wound Stripes. - - - XXXI BREAKING THE HINDENBURG LINE 373 - - Lloyd George--My Second Excursion--The Farthest - German Point--Sir Joseph Cook--Night - before the Day of Judgment--The Final Battle-- - On a Tank--Horrible Sight--Speech to Australians - --The Magic Carpet. - - - XXXII THE PSYCHIC QUEST 387 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - -ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE _Frontispiece_ - - PAGE - -MY MOTHER AT 17 12 - -STEAM-WHALER _Hope_ 36 - -STAFF OF THE LANGMAN HOSPITAL 156 - -LADY CONAN DOYLE 222 - -THE FAMILY IN THE WILDS OF CANADA 298 - -KINGSLEY CONAN DOYLE 350 - -ON THE FRENCH FRONT 364 - - - - -CHAPTER I - -EARLY RECOLLECTIONS - - Extraction--“H. B.”--Four Remarkable Brothers--My Mother’s Family - Tree--An Unrecognized Genius--My First Knockout--Thackeray--The - Fenians--Early Reading--My First Story. - - -I was born on May 22, 1859, at Picardy Place, Edinburgh, so named -because in old days a colony of French Huguenots had settled there. At -the time of their coming it was a village outside the City walls, but -now it is at the end of Queen Street, abutting upon Leith Walk. When -last I visited it, it seemed to have degenerated, but at that time the -flats were of good repute. - -My father was the youngest son of John Doyle, who under the _nom de -crayon_ of “H. B.” made a great reputation in London from about 1825 to -1850. He came from Dublin about the year 1815 and may be said to be the -father of polite caricature, for in the old days satire took the brutal -shape of making the object grotesque in features and figure. Gilray and -Rowlandson had no other idea. My grandfather was a gentleman, drawing -gentlemen for gentlemen, and the satire lay in the wit of the picture -and not in the misdrawing of faces. This was a new idea, but it has -been followed by most caricaturists since and so has become familiar. -There were no comic papers in those days, and the weekly cartoon of -“H. B.” was lithographed and distributed. He exerted, I am told, quite -an influence upon politics, and was on terms of intimacy with many of -the leading men of the day. I can remember him in his old age, a very -handsome and dignified man with features of the strong Anglo-Irish, -Duke of Wellington stamp. He died in 1868. - -My grandfather was left a widower with a numerous family, of which -four boys and one girl survived. Each of the boys made a name for -himself, for all inherited the artistic powers of their father. The -elder, James Doyle, wrote “The Chronicles of England,” illustrated -with coloured pictures by himself--examples of colour-printing which -beat any subsequent work that I have ever seen. He also spent thirteen -years in doing “The Official Baronage of England,” a wonderful monument -of industry and learning. Another brother was Henry Doyle, a great -judge of old paintings, and in later years the manager of the National -Gallery in Dublin, where he earned his C.B. The third son was Richard -Doyle, whose whimsical humour made him famous in “Punch,” the cover of -which with its dancing elves is still so familiar an object. Finally -came Charles Doyle, my father. - -The Doyle family seem to have been fairly well-to-do, thanks to my -grandfather’s talents. They lived in London in Cambridge Terrace. A -sketch of their family life is given in “Dicky Doyle’s Diary.” They -lived up to their income, however, and it became necessary to find -places for the boys. When my father was only nineteen a seat was -offered him in the Government Office of Works in Edinburgh, whither he -went. There he spent his working life, and thus it came about that I, -an Irishman by extraction, was born in the Scottish capital. - -The Doyles, Anglo-Norman in origin, were strong Roman Catholics. The -original Doyle, or D’Oil, was a cadet-branch of the Staffordshire -Doyles, which has produced Sir Francis Hastings Doyle and many other -distinguished men. This cadet shared in the invasion of Ireland and -was granted estates in County Wexford, where a great clan rose of -dependants, illegitimate children and others, all taking the feudal -lord’s name, just as the de Burghs founded the clan of Burke. We can -only claim to be the main stem by virtue of community of character and -appearance with the English Doyles and the unbroken use of the same -crest and coat-of-arms. - -My forbears, like most old Irish families in the south, kept to the -old faith at the Reformation and fell victims to the penal laws in -consequence. These became so crushing upon landed gentry that my -great-grandfather was driven from his estate and became a silk-mercer -in Dublin, where “H. B.” was born. This family record was curiously -confirmed by Monsignor Barry Doyle, destined, I think, for the highest -honours of the Roman Church, who traces back to the younger brother of -my great-grandfather. - -I trust the reader will indulge me in my excursion into these family -matters, which are of vital interest to the family, but must be tedious -to the outsider. As I am on the subject, I wish to say a word upon my -mother’s family, the more so as she was great on archaeology, and had, -with the help of Sir Arthur Vicars, Ulster King of Arms, and himself a -relative, worked out her descent for more than five hundred years, and -so composed a family tree which lies before me as I write and on which -many of the great ones of the earth have roosted. - -Her father was a young doctor of Trinity College, William Foley, who -died young and left his family in comparative poverty. He had married -one Katherine Pack, whose death-bed--or rather the white waxen thing -which lay upon that bed--is the very earliest recollection of my life. -Her near relative--uncle, I think--was Sir Denis Pack, who led the -Scottish brigade at Waterloo. The Packs were a fighting family, as was -but right since they were descended in a straight line from a major in -Cromwell’s army who settled in Ireland. One of them, Anthony Pack, had -part of his head carried off at the same battle, so I fear it is part -of our family tradition that we lose our heads in action. His brain was -covered over by a silver plate and he lived for many years, subject -only to very bad fits of temper, which some of us have had with less -excuse. - -But the real romance of the family lies in the fact that about the -middle of the seventeenth century the Reverend Richard Pack, who was -head of Kilkenny College, married Mary Percy, who was heir to the Irish -branch of the Percys of Northumberland. By this alliance we all connect -up (and I have every generation by name, as marked out by my dear -mother) with that illustrious line up to three separate marriages with -the Plantagenets. One has, therefore, some strange strains in one’s -blood which are noble in origin and, one can but hope, are noble in -tendency. - -But all this romance of ancestry did not interfere with the fact that -when Katherine Pack, the Irish gentlewoman, came in her widowhood -to Edinburgh, she was very poor. I have never been clear why it was -Edinburgh for which she made. Having taken a flat she let it be known -that a paying-guest would be welcome. Just at this time, 1850 or -thereabouts, Charles Doyle was sent from London with a recommendation -to the priests that they should guard his young morals and budding -faith. How could they do this better than by finding him quarters with -a well-born and orthodox widow? Thus it came about that two separate -lines of Irish wanderers came together under one roof. - -I have a little bundle of my father’s letters written in those -days, full of appreciation of the kindness which he met with and -full, also, of interesting observations on that Scottish society, -rough, hard-drinking and kindly, into which he had been precipitated -at a dangerously early age, especially for one with his artistic -temperament. He had some fine religious instincts, but his environment -was a difficult one. In the household was a bright-eyed, very -intelligent younger daughter, Mary, who presently went off to France -and returned as a very cultivated young woman. The romance is easily -understood, and so Charles Doyle in the year 1855 married Mary Foley, -my mother, the young couple still residing with my grandmother. - -Their means were limited, for his salary as a Civil Servant was not -more than about £240. This he supplemented by his drawings. Thus -matters remained for practically all his life, for he was quite -unambitious and no great promotion ever came his way. His painting was -done spasmodically and the family did not always reap the benefit, -for Edinburgh is full of water-colours which he had given away. It is -one of my unfulfilled schemes to collect as many as possible and to -have a Charles Doyle exhibition in London, for the critics would be -surprised to find what a great and original artist he was--far the -greatest, in my opinion, of the family. His brush was concerned not -only with fairies and delicate themes of the kind, but with wild and -fearsome subjects, so that his work had a very peculiar style of its -own, mitigated by great natural humour. He was more terrible than Blake -and less morbid than Wiertz. His originality is best shown by the fact -that one hardly knows with whom to compare him. In prosaic Scotland, -however, he excited wonder rather than admiration, and he was only -known in the larger world of London by pen and ink book-illustrations -which were not his best mode of expression. The prosaic outcome was -that including all his earnings my mother could never have averaged -more than £300 a year on which to educate a large family. We lived in -the hardy and bracing atmosphere of poverty and we each in turn did our -best to help those who were younger than ourselves. My noble sister -Annette, who died just as the sunshine of better days came into our -lives, went out at a very early age as a governess to Portugal and -sent all her salary home. My younger sisters, Lottie and Connie, both -did the same thing; and I helped as I could. But it was still my dear -mother who bore the long, sordid strain. Often I said to her, “When you -are old, Mammie, you shall have a velvet dress and gold glasses and sit -in comfort by the fire.” Thank God, it so came to pass. My father, I -fear, was of little help to her, for his thoughts were always in the -clouds and he had no appreciation of the realities of life. The world, -not the family, gets the fruits of genius. - -Of my boyhood I need say little, save that it was Spartan at home -and more Spartan at the Edinburgh school where a tawse-brandishing -schoolmaster of the old type made our young lives miserable. From the -age of seven to nine I suffered under this pock-marked, one-eyed rascal -who might have stepped from the pages of Dickens. In the evenings home -and books were my sole consolation, save for week-end holidays. My -comrades were rough boys and I became a rough boy, too. If there is any -truth in the idea of reincarnation--a point on which my mind is still -open--I think some earlier experience of mine must have been as a stark -fighter, for it came out strongly in youth, when I rejoiced in battle. -We lived for some time in a _cul de sac_ street with a very vivid -life of its own and a fierce feud between the small boys who dwelt on -either side of it. Finally it was fought out between two champions, I -representing the poorer boys who lived in flats and my opponent the -richer boys who lived in the opposite villas. We fought in the garden -of one of the said villas and had an excellent contest of many rounds, -not being strong enough to weaken each other. When I got home after -the battle, my mother cried, “Oh, Arthur, what a dreadful eye you -have got!” To which I replied, “You just go across and look at Eddie -Tulloch’s eye!” - -I met a well-deserved setback on one occasion when I stood forward to -fight a bootmaker’s boy, who had come into our preserve upon an errand. -He had a green baize bag in his hand which contained a heavy boot, and -this he swung against my skull with a force which knocked me pretty -well senseless. It was a useful lesson. I will say for myself, however, -that though I was pugnacious I was never so to those weaker than myself -and that some of my escapades were in the defence of such. As I will -show in my chapter on Sport, I carried on my tastes into a later period -of my life. - -One or two little pictures stand out which may be worth recording. -When my grandfather’s grand London friends passed through Edinburgh -they used, to our occasional embarrassment, to call at the little flat -“to see how Charles is getting on.” In my earliest childhood such a -one came, tall, white-haired and affable. I was so young that it seems -like a faint dream, and yet it pleases me to think that I have sat on -Thackeray’s knee. He greatly admired my dear little mother with her -grey Irish eyes and her vivacious Celtic ways--indeed, no one met her -without being captivated by her. - -Once, too, I got a glimpse of history. It was in 1866, if my dates are -right, that some well-to-do Irish relatives asked us over for a few -weeks, and we passed that time in a great house in King’s County. I -spent much of it with the horses and dogs, and became friendly with the -young groom. The stables opened on to a country road by an arched gate -with a loft over it. One morning, being in the yard, I saw the young -groom rush into the yard with every sign of fear and hastily shut and -bar the doors. He then climbed into the loft, beckoning to me to come -with him. From the loft window we saw a gang of rough men, twenty or -so, slouching along the road. When they came opposite to the gate they -stopped and looking up shook their fists and cursed at us. The groom -answered back most volubly. Afterwards I understood that these men -were a party of Fenians, and that I had had a glimpse of one of the -periodical troubles which poor old Ireland has endured. Perhaps now, at -last, they may be drawing to an end. - -During these first ten years I was a rapid reader, so rapid that some -small library with which we dealt gave my mother notice that books -would not be changed more than twice a day. My tastes were boylike -enough, for Mayne Reid was my favourite author, and his “Scalp Hunters” -my favourite book. I wrote a little book and illustrated it myself in -early days. There was a man in it and there was a tiger who amalgamated -shortly after they met. I remarked to my mother with precocious wisdom -that it was easy to get people into scrapes, but not so easy to get -them out again, which is surely the experience of every writer of -adventures. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -UNDER THE JESUITS - - The Preparatory School--The Mistakes of Education--Spartan - Schooling--Corporal Punishment--Well-known School Fellows--Gloomy - Forecasts--Poetry--London Matriculation--German School--A Happy - Year--The Jesuits--Strange Arrival in Paris. - - -I was in my tenth year when I was sent to Hodder, which is the -preparatory school for Stonyhurst, the big Roman Catholic public school -in Lancashire. It was a long journey for a little boy who had never -been away from home before, and I felt very lonesome and wept bitterly -upon the way, but in due time I arrived safely at Preston, which was -then the nearest station, and with many other small boys and our -black-robed Jesuit guardians we drove some twelve miles to the school. -Hodder is about a mile from Stonyhurst, and as all the boys there are -youngsters under twelve, it forms a very useful institution, breaking a -lad into school ways before he mixes with the big fellows. - -I had two years at Hodder. The year was not broken up by the frequent -holidays which illuminate the present educational period. Save for -six weeks each summer, one never left the school. On the whole, those -first two years were happy years. I could hold my own both in brain -and in strength with my comrades. I was fortunate enough to get under -the care of a kindly principal, one Father Cassidy, who was more human -than Jesuits usually are. I have always kept a warm remembrance of -this man and of his gentle ways to the little boys--young rascals many -of us--who were committed to his care. I remember the Franco-German -War breaking out at this period, and how it made a ripple even in our -secluded back-water. - -From Hodder I passed on to Stonyhurst, that grand mediæval -dwelling-house which was left some hundred and fifty years ago to the -Jesuits, who brought over their whole teaching staff from some college -in Holland in order to carry it on as a public school. The general -curriculum, like the building, was mediæval but sound. I understand it -has been modernized since. There were seven classes--elements, figures, -rudiments, grammar, syntax, poetry and rhetoric--and you were allotted -a year for each, or seven in all--a course with which I faithfully -complied, two having already been completed at Hodder. It was the usual -public school routine of Euclid, algebra and the classics, taught in -the usual way, which is calculated to leave a lasting abhorrence of -these subjects. To give boys a little slab of Virgil or Homer with -no general idea as to what it is all about or what the classical age -was like, is surely an absurd way of treating the subject. I am sure -that an intelligent boy could learn more by reading a good translation -of Homer for a week than by a year’s study of the original as it is -usually carried out. It was no worse at Stonyhurst than at any other -school, and it can only be excused on the plea that any exercise, -however stupid in itself, forms a sort of mental dumb-bell by which one -can improve one’s mind. It is, I think, a thoroughly false theory. I -can say with truth that my Latin and Greek, which cost me so many weary -hours, have been little use to me in life, and that my mathematics have -been no use at all. On the other hand, some things which I picked up -almost by accident, the art of reading aloud, learned when my mother -was knitting, or the reading of French books, learned by spelling -out the captions of the Jules Verne illustrations, have been of the -greatest possible service. My classical education left me with a horror -of the classics, and I was astonished to find how fascinating they were -when I read them in a reasonable manner in later years. - -Year by year, then, I see myself climbing those seven weary steps and -passing through as many stages of my boyhood. I do not know if the -Jesuit system of education is good or not; I would need to have tried -another system as well before I could answer that. On the whole it -was justified by results, for I think it turned out as decent a set -of young fellows as any other school would do. In spite of a large -infusion of foreigners and some disaffected Irish, we were a patriotic -crowd, and our little pulse beat time with the heart of the nation. -I am told that the average of V.C.’s and D.S.O.’s now held by old -Stonyhurst boys is very high as compared with other schools. The Jesuit -teachers have no trust in human nature, and perhaps they are justified. -We were never allowed for an instant to be alone with each other, and -I think that the immorality which is rife in public schools was at a -minimum in consequence. In our games and our walks the priests always -took part, and a master perambulated the dormitories at night. Such a -system may weaken self-respect and self-help, but it at least minimizes -temptation and scandal. - -The life was Spartan, and yet we had all that was needed. Dry bread -and hot well-watered milk were our frugal breakfast. There was a -“joint” and twice a week a pudding for dinner. Then there was an odd -snack called “bread and beer” in the afternoon, a bit of dry bread -and the most extraordinary drink, which was brown but had no other -characteristic of beer. Finally, there was hot milk again, bread, -butter, and often potatoes for supper. We were all very healthy on this -_régime_, on Fridays. Everything in every way was plain to the verge -of austerity, save that we dwelt in a beautiful building, dined in a -marble-floored hall with minstrels’ gallery, prayed in a lovely church, -and generally lived in very choice surroundings so far as vision and -not comfort was concerned. - -Corporal punishment was severe, and I can speak with feeling as I think -few, if any, boys of my time endured more of it. It was of a peculiar -nature, imported also, I fancy, from Holland. The instrument was a -piece of india-rubber of the size and shape of a thick boot sole. This -was called a “Tolley”--why, no one has explained, unless it is a Latin -pun on what we had to bear. One blow of this instrument, delivered with -intent, would cause the palm of the hand to swell up and change colour. -When I say that the usual punishment of the larger boys was nine on -each hand, and that nine on one hand was the absolute minimum, it will -be understood that it was a severe ordeal, and that the sufferer could -not, as a rule, turn the handle of the door to get out of the room in -which he had suffered. To take twice nine upon a cold day was about -the extremity of human endurance. I think, however, that it was good -for us in the end, for it was a point of honour with many of us not -to show that we were hurt, and that is one of the best trainings for a -hard life. If I was more beaten than others it was not that I was in -any way vicious, but it was that I had a nature which responded eagerly -to affectionate kindness (which I never received), but which rebelled -against threats and took a perverted pride in showing that it would not -be cowed by violence. I went out of my way to do really mischievous and -outrageous things simply to show that my spirit was unbroken. An appeal -to my better nature and not to my fears would have found an answer at -once. I deserved all I got for what I did, but I did it because I was -mishandled. - -I do not remember any one who attained particular distinction among my -school-fellows, save Bernard Partridge of “Punch,” whom I recollect -as a very quiet, gentle boy. Father Thurston, who was destined to be -one of my opponents in psychic matters so many years later, was in -the class above me. There was a young novice, too, with whom I hardly -came in contact, but whose handsome and spiritual appearance I well -remember. He was Bernard Vaughan, afterwards the famous preacher. Save -for one school-fellow, James Ryan--a remarkable boy who grew into a -remarkable man--I carried away no lasting friendship from Stonyhurst. - -It was only in the latest stage of my Stonyhurst development that I -realized that I had some literary streak in me which was not common to -all. It came to me as quite a surprise, and even more perhaps to my -masters, who had taken a rather hopeless view of my future prospects. -One master, when I told him that I thought of being a civil engineer, -remarked, “Well, Doyle, you may be an engineer, but I don’t think you -will ever be a civil one.” Another assured me that I would never do -any good in the world, and perhaps from his point of view his prophecy -has been justified. The particular incident, however, which brought -my latent powers to the surface depended upon the fact that in the -second highest class, which I reached in 1874, it was incumbent to -write poetry (so called) on any theme given. This was done as a dreary -unnatural task by most boys. Very comical their wooings of the muses -used to be. For one saturated as I really was with affection for -verse, it was a labour of love, and I produced verses which were poor -enough in themselves but seemed miracles to those who had no urge in -that direction. The particular theme was the crossing of the Red Sea by -the Israelites and my effort from-- - - “Like pallid daisies in a grassy wood, - So round the sward the tents of Israel stood”; - -through-- - - “There was no time for thought and none for fear, - For Egypt’s horse already pressed their rear.” - -down to the climax-- - - “One horrid cry! The tragedy was o’er, - And Pharaoh with his army seen no more,”-- - -was workmanlike though wooden and conventional. Anyhow, it marked what -Mr. Stead used to call a signpost, and I realized myself a little. In -the last year I edited the College magazine and wrote a good deal of -indifferent verse. I also went up for the Matriculation examination of -London University, a good all-round test which winds up the Stonyhurst -curriculum, and I surprised every one by taking honours, so after all -I emerged from Stonyhurst at the age of sixteen with more credit than -seemed probable from my rather questionable record. - -Early in my career there, an offer had been made to my mother that my -school fees would be remitted if I were dedicated to the Church. She -refused this, so both the Church and I had an escape. When I think, -however, of her small income and great struggle to keep up appearances -and make both ends meet, it was a fine example of her independence of -character, for it meant paying out some £50 a year which might have -been avoided by a word of assent. - -[Illustration: MY MOTHER, AT 17. - -_Drawn by Richard Doyle, July 1854._] - -I had yet another year with the Jesuits, for it was determined that -I was still too young to begin any professional studies, and that I -should go to Germany and learn German. I was despatched, therefore, -to Feldkirch, which is a Jesuit school in the Vorarlberg province of -Austria, to which many better-class German boys are sent. Here the -conditions were much more humane and I met with far more human kindness -than at Stonyhurst, with the immediate result that I ceased to be a -resentful young rebel and became a pillar of law and order. - -I began badly, however, for on the first night of my arrival I was kept -awake by a boy snoring loudly in the dormitory. I stood it as long as -I could, but at last I was driven to action. Curious wooden compasses -called _bett-scheere_, or “bed-scissors,” were stuck into each side of -the narrow beds. One of these I plucked out, walked down the dormitory, -and, having spotted the offender, proceeded to poke him with my stick. -He awoke and was considerably amazed to see in the dim light a large -youth whom he had never seen before--I arrived after hours--assaulting -him with a club. I was still engaged in stirring him up when I felt -a touch on my shoulder and was confronted by the master, who ordered -me back to bed. Next morning I got a lecture on free-and-easy English -ways, and taking the law into my own hands. But this start was really -my worst lapse and I did well in the future. - -It was a happy year on the whole. I made less progress with German -than I should, for there were about twenty English and Irish boys who -naturally balked the wishes of their parents by herding together. There -was no cricket, but there were toboganning and fair football and a -weird game--football on stilts. Then there were the lovely mountains -round us, with an occasional walk among them. The food was better than -at Stonyhurst and we had the pleasant German light beer instead of -the horrible swipes of Stonyhurst. One unlooked-for accomplishment I -acquired, for the boy who played the big brass bass instrument in the -fine school band had not returned, and, as a well-grown lad was needed, -I was at once enlisted in the service. I played in public--good music, -too, “Lohengrin,” and “Tannhäuser,”--within a week or two of my first -lesson, but they pressed me on for the occasion and the Bombardon, as -it was called, only comes in on a measured rhythm with an occasional -run, which sounds like a hippopotamus doing a step-dance. So big was -the instrument that I remember the other bandsmen putting my sheets and -blankets inside it and my surprise when I could not get out a note. It -was in the summer of 1876 that I left Feldkirch, and I have always had -a pleasant memory of the Austrian Jesuits and of the old schools. - -Indeed I have a kindly feeling towards all Jesuits, far as I have -strayed from their paths. I see now both their limitations and their -virtues. They have been slandered in some things, for during eight -years of constant contact I cannot remember that they were less -truthful than their fellows, or more casuistical than their neighbours. -They were keen, clean-minded earnest men, so far as I knew them, with a -few black sheep among them, but not many, for the process of selection -was careful and long. In all ways, save in their theology, they were -admirable, though this same theology made them hard and inhuman upon -the surface, which is indeed the general effect of Catholicism in its -more extreme forms. The convert is lost to the family. Their hard, -narrow outlook gives the Jesuits driving power, as is noticeable in the -Puritans and all hard, narrow creeds. They are devoted and fearless and -have again and again, both in Canada, in South America and in China, -been the vanguard of civilization to their own grievous hurt. They -are the old guard of the Roman Church. But the tragedy is that they, -who would gladly give their lives for the old faith, have in effect -helped to ruin it, for it is they, according to Father Tyrrell and the -modernists, who have been at the back of all those extreme doctrines -of papal infallibility and Immaculate Conception, with a general -all-round tightening of dogma, which have made it so difficult for the -man with scientific desire for truth or with intellectual self-respect -to keep within the Church. For some years Sir Charles Mivart, the last -of Catholic Scientists, tried to do the impossible, and then he also -had to leave go his hold, so that there is not, so far as I know, -one single man of outstanding fame in science or in general thought -who is a practising Catholic. This is the work of the extremists and -is deplored by many of the moderates and fiercely condemned by the -modernists. It depends also upon the inner Italian directorate who -give the orders. Nothing can exceed the uncompromising bigotry of -the Jesuit theology, or their apparent ignorance of how it shocks -the modern conscience. I remember that when, as a grown lad, I heard -Father Murphy, a great fierce Irish priest, declare that there was sure -damnation for every one outside the Church, I looked upon him with -horror, and to that moment I trace the first rift which has grown into -such a chasm between me and those who were my guides. - -On my way back to England I stopped at Paris. Through all my life -up to this point there had been an unseen granduncle, named Michael -Conan, to whom I must now devote a paragraph. He came into the family -from the fact that my father’s father (“H. B.”) had married a Miss -Conan. Michael Conan, her brother, had been editor of “The Art Journal” -and was a man of distinction, an intellectual Irishman of the type -which originally founded the Sinn Fein movement. He was as keen on -heraldry and genealogy as my mother, and he traced his descent in some -circuitous way from the Dukes of Brittany, who were all Conans; indeed -Arthur Conan was the ill-fated young Duke whose eyes were put out, -according to Shakespeare, by King John. This uncle was my godfather, -and hence my name Arthur Conan. - -He lived in Paris and had expressed a wish that his grandnephew and -godson, with whom he had corresponded, should call _en passant_. I ran -my money affairs so closely, after a rather lively supper at Strasburg, -that when I reached Paris I had just twopence in my pocket. As I could -not well drive up and ask my uncle to pay the cab I left my trunk at -the station and set forth on foot. I reached the river, walked along -it, came to the foot of the Champs Élysées, saw the Arc de Triomphe in -the distance, and then, knowing that the Avenue Wagram, where my uncle -lived, was near there, I tramped it on a hot August day and finally -found him. I remember that I was exhausted with the heat and the -walking, and that when at the last gasp I saw a man buy a drink of what -seemed to be porter by handing a penny to a man who had a long tin on -his back, I therefore halted the man and spent one of my pennies on a -duplicate drink. It proved to be liquorice and water, but it revived -me when I badly needed it, and it could not be said that I arrived -penniless at my uncle’s, for I actually had a penny. - -So, for some penurious weeks, I was in Paris with this dear old -volcanic Irishman, who spent the summer day in his shirt-sleeves, with -a little dicky-bird of a wife waiting upon him. I am built rather on -his lines of body and mind than on any of the Doyles. We made a true -friendship, and then I returned to my home conscious that real life was -about to begin. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -RECOLLECTIONS OF A STUDENT - - Edinburgh University--A Sad Disappointment--Original of Professor - Challenger--Of Sherlock Holmes--Deductions--Sheffield--Ruyton-- - Birmingham--Literary Aspirations--First Accepted Story--My Father’s - Death--Mental Position--Spiritual Yearnings--An Awkward Business. - - -When I returned to Edinburgh, with little to show, either mental or -spiritual, for my pleasant school year in Germany, I found that the -family affairs were still as straitened as ever. No promotion had come -to my father, and two younger children, Innes, my only brother, and -Ida, had arrived to add to the calls upon my mother. Another sister, -Julia, followed shortly afterwards. But Annette, the eldest sister, had -already gone out to Portugal to earn and send home a fair salary, while -Lottie and Connie were about to do the same. My mother had adopted the -device of sharing a large house, which may have eased her in some ways, -but was disastrous in others. - -Perhaps it was good for me that the times were hard, for I was wild, -full-blooded, and a trifle reckless, but the situation called for -energy and application, so that one was bound to try to meet it. -My mother had been so splendid that we could not fail her. It had -been determined that I should be a doctor, chiefly, I think, because -Edinburgh was so famous a centre for medical learning. It meant another -long effort for my mother, but she was very brave and ambitious where -her children were concerned, and I was not only to have a medical -education, but to take the University degree, which was a larger matter -than a mere licence to practise. When I returned from Germany I found -that there was a long list of bursaries and scholarships open for -competition. I had a month in which to brush up my classics and then I -went in for these, and was informed a week later that I had won the -Grierson bursary of £40 for two years. Great were the rejoicings and -all shadows seemed to be lifting. But on calling to get the money I was -informed that there had been a clerical error, and that this particular -bursary was only open to arts students. As there was a long list of -prizes I naturally supposed that I would get the next highest, which -was available for medicals. The official pulled a long face and said: -“Unfortunately the candidate to whom it was allotted has already drawn -the money.” It was manifest robbery, and yet I, who had won the prize -and needed it so badly, never received it, and was eventually put off -with a solatium of £7, which had accumulated from some fund. It was -a bitter disappointment and, of course, I had a legal case, but what -can a penniless student do, and what sort of college career would he -have if he began it by suing his University for money? I was advised -to accept the situation, and there seemed no prospect of accepting -anything else. - -So now behold me, a tall strongly-framed but half-formed young man, -fairly entered upon my five years’ course of medical study. It can be -done with diligence in four years, but there came, as I shall show, a -glorious interruption which held me back for one year. I entered as a -student in October 1876, and I emerged as a Bachelor of Medicine in -August 1881. Between these two points lies one long weary grind at -botany, chemistry, anatomy, physiology, and a whole list of compulsory -subjects, many of which have a very indirect bearing upon the art of -curing. The whole system of teaching, as I look back upon it, seems -far too oblique and not nearly practical enough for the purpose in -view. And yet Edinburgh is, I believe, more practical than most other -colleges. It is practical, too, in its preparation for life, since -there is none of the atmosphere of an enlarged public school, as is the -case in English Universities, but the student lives a free man in his -own rooms with no restrictions of any sort. It ruins some and makes -strong men of many. In my own case, of course, this did not apply, -since my family lived in the town, and I worked from my own home. - -There was no attempt at friendship, or even acquaintance, between -professors and students at Edinburgh. It was a strictly business -arrangement by which you paid, for example, four guineas for Anatomy -lectures and received the winter course in exchange, never seeing -your professor save behind his desk and never under any circumstances -exchanging a word with him. They were remarkable men, however, some -of these professors, and we managed to know them pretty well without -any personal acquaintance. There was kindly Crum Brown, the chemist, -who sheltered himself carefully before exploding some mixture, which -usually failed to ignite, so that the loud “Boom!” uttered by the class -was the only resulting sound. Brown would emerge from his retreat with -a “Really, gentlemen!” of remonstrance, and go on without allusion to -the abortive experiment. There was Wyville Thomson, the zoologist, -fresh from his _Challenger_ expedition, and Balfour, with the face and -manner of John Knox, a hard rugged old man, who harried the students in -their exams, and was in consequence harried by them for the rest of the -year. There was Turner, a fine anatomist, but a self-educated man, as -was betrayed when he used to “take and put this structure on the handle -of this scalpel.” The most human trait that I can recall of Turner was -that upon one occasion the sacred quadrangle was invaded by snowballing -roughs. His class, of whom I was one, heard the sounds of battle -and fidgeted in their seats, on which the Professor said: “I think, -gentlemen, your presence may be more useful outside than here,” on -which we flocked out with a whoop, and soon had the quadrangle clear. -Most vividly of all, however, there stands out in my memory the squat -figure of Professor Rutherford with his Assyrian beard, his prodigious -voice, his enormous chest and his singular manner. He fascinated and -awed us. I have endeavoured to reproduce some of his peculiarities in -the fictitious character of Professor Challenger. He would sometimes -start his lecture before he reached the classroom, so that we would -hear a booming voice saying: “There are valves in the veins,” or some -other information, when the desk was still empty. He was, I fear, a -rather ruthless vivisector, and though I have always recognized that a -minimum of painless vivisection is necessary, and far more justifiable -than the eating of meat as a food, I am glad that the law was made more -stringent so as to restrain such men as he. “Ach, these Jarman Frags!” -he would exclaim in his curious accent, as he tore some poor amphibian -to pieces. I wrote a students’ song which is still sung, I understand, -in which a curious article is picked up on the Portobello beach and -each Professor in turn claims it for his department. Rutherford’s verse -ran: - - Said Rutherford with a smile, - “It’s a mass of solid bile, - And I myself obtained it, what is more, - By a stringent cholagogue - From a vivisected dog, - And I lost it on the Portobello Shore.” - -If the song is indeed still sung it may be of interest to the present -generation to know that I was the author. - -But the most notable of the characters whom I met was one Joseph Bell, -surgeon at the Edinburgh Infirmary. Bell was a very remarkable man in -body and mind. He was thin, wiry, dark, with a high-nosed acute face, -penetrating grey eyes, angular shoulders, and a jerky way of walking. -His voice was high and discordant. He was a very skilful surgeon, but -his strong point was diagnosis, not only of disease, but of occupation -and character. For some reason which I have never understood he -singled me out from the drove of students who frequented his wards and -made me his out-patient clerk, which meant that I had to array his -out-patients, make simple notes of their cases, and then show them in, -one by one, to the large room in which Bell sat in state surrounded -by his dressers and students. Then I had ample chance of studying his -methods and of noticing that he often learned more of the patient by -a few quick glances than I had done by my questions. Occasionally the -results were very dramatic, though there were times when he blundered. -In one of his best cases he said to a civilian patient: “Well, my man, -you’ve served in the army.” - -“Aye, sir.” - -“Not long discharged?” - -“No, sir.” - -“A Highland regiment?” - -“Aye, sir.” - -“A non-com. officer.” - -“Aye, sir.” - -“Stationed at Barbados?” - -“Aye, sir.” - -“You see, gentlemen,” he would explain, “the man was a respectful man -but did not remove his hat. They do not in the army, but he would -have learned civilian ways had he been long discharged. He has an -air of authority and he is obviously Scottish. As to Barbados, his -complaint is elephantiasis, which is West Indian and not British.” To -his audience of Watsons it all seemed very miraculous until it was -explained, and then it became simple enough. It is no wonder that after -the study of such a character I used and amplified his methods when in -later life I tried to build up a scientific detective who solved cases -on his own merits and not through the folly of the criminal. Bell took -a keen interest in these detective tales and even made suggestions -which were not, I am bound to say, very practical. I kept in touch with -him for many years and he used to come upon my platform to support me -when I contested Edinburgh in 1901. - -When I took over his out-patient work he warned me that a knowledge -of Scottish idioms was necessary and I, with the confidence of youth, -declared that I had got it. The sequel was amusing. On one of the -first days an old man came who, in response to my question, declared -that he had a “bealin’ in his oxter.” This fairly beat me, much to -Bell’s amusement. It seems that the words really mean an abscess in the -arm-pit. - -Speaking generally of my University career I may say that though I -took my fences in my stride and balked at none of them, still I won -no distinction in the race. I was always one of the ruck, neither -lingering nor gaining--a 60 per cent man at examinations. There were, -however, some reasons for this which I will now state. - -It was clearly very needful that I should help financially as quickly -as possible, even if my help only took the humble form of providing -for my own keep. Therefore I endeavoured almost from the first to -compress the classes for a year into half a year, and so to have some -months in which to earn a little money as a medical assistant, who -would dispense and do odd jobs for a doctor. When I first set forth to -do this my services were so obviously worth nothing that I had to put -that valuation upon them. Even then it might have been a hard bargain -for the doctor, for I might have proved like the youth in “Pickwick” -who had a rooted idea that oxalic acid was Epsom salts. However, I had -horse sense enough to save myself and my employer from any absolute -catastrophe. My first venture, in the early summer of ’78, was with a -Dr. Richardson, running a low-class practice in the poorer quarters of -Sheffield. I did my best, and I dare say he was patient, but at the -end of three weeks we parted by mutual consent. I went on to London, -where I renewed my advertisements in the medical papers, and found a -refuge for some weeks with my Doyle relatives, then living at Clifton -Gardens, Maida Vale. I fear that I was too Bohemian for them and they -too conventional for me. However, they were kind to me, and I roamed -about London for some time with pockets so empty that there was little -chance of idleness breeding its usual mischief. I remember that there -were signs of trouble in the East and that the recruiting sergeants, -who were very busy in Trafalgar Square, took my measure in a moment and -were very insistent that I should take the shilling. There was a time -when I was quite disposed to do so, but my mother’s plans held me back. -I may say that late in the same year I did volunteer as a dresser for -the English ambulances sent to Turkey for the Russian War, and was on -the Red Cross list, but the collapse of the Turks prevented my going -out. - -Soon, however, there came an answer to my advertisement: “Third -year’s student, desiring experience rather than remuneration, -offers his services, &c., &c.” It was from a Dr. Elliot living in a -townlet in Shropshire which rejoiced in the extraordinary name of -“Ruyton-of-the-eleven-towns.” It was not big enough to make one town, -far less eleven. There for four months I helped in a country practice. -It was a very quiet existence and I had a good deal of time to myself -under very pleasant circumstances, so that I really trace some little -mental progress to that period, for I read and thought without -interruption. My medical duties were of a routine nature save on a few -occasions. One of them still stands out in my memory, for it was the -first time in my life that I ever had to test my own nerve in a great -sudden emergency. The doctor was out when there came a half-crazed -messenger to say that in some rejoicings at a neighbouring great house -they had exploded an old cannon which had promptly burst and grievously -injured one of the bystanders. No doctor was available, so I was the -last resource. On arriving there I found a man in bed with a lump of -iron sticking out of the side of his head. I tried not to show the -alarm which I felt, and I did the obvious thing by pulling out the -iron. I could see the clean white bone, so I could assure them that the -brain had not been injured. I then pulled the gash together, staunched -the bleeding, and finally bound it up, so that when the doctor did at -last arrive he had little to add. This incident gave me confidence and, -what is more important still, gave others confidence. On the whole I -had a happy time at Ruyton, and have a pleasing memory of Dr. Elliot -and his wife. - -After a winter’s work at the University my next assistantship was a -real money-making proposition to the extent of some two pounds a month. -This was with Dr. Hoare, a well-known Birmingham doctor, who had a -five-horse City practice, and every working doctor, before the days of -motors, would realize that this meant going from morning to night. He -earned some three thousand a year, which takes some doing, when it is -collected from 3_s._ 6_d._ visits and 1_s._ 6_d._ bottles of medicine, -among the very poorest classes of Aston. Hoare was a fine fellow, -stout, square, red-faced, bushy-whiskered and dark-eyed. His wife was -also a very kindly and gifted woman, and my position in the house was -soon rather that of a son than of an assistant. The work, however, -was hard and incessant, and the pay very small. I had long lists of -prescriptions to make up every day, for we dispensed our own medicine, -and one hundred bottles of an evening were not unknown. On the whole I -made few mistakes, though I have been known to send out ointment and -pill boxes with elaborate directions on the lid and nothing inside. I -had my own visiting list, also, the poorest or the most convalescent, -and I saw a great deal, for better or worse, of very low life. Twice -I returned to this Birmingham practice and always my relations with -the family became closer. At my second visit my knowledge had greatly -extended and I did midwifery cases, and the more severe cases in -general practice as well as all the dispensing. I had no time to spend -any money and it was as well, for every shilling was needed at home. - -It was in this year that I first learned that shillings might be earned -in other ways than by filling phials. Some friend remarked to me that -my letters were very vivid and surely I could write some things to -sell. I may say that the general aspiration towards literature was -tremendously strong upon me, and that my mind was reaching out in -what seemed an aimless way in all sorts of directions. I used to be -allowed twopence for my lunch, that being the price of a mutton pie, -but near the pie shop was a second-hand book shop with a barrel full -of old books and the legend “Your choice for 2_d._” stuck above it. -Ofter the price of my luncheon used to be spent on some sample out of -this barrel, and I have within reach of my arm as I write these lines, -copies of Gordon’s Tacitus, Temple’s works, Pope’s Homer, Addison’s -Spectator and Swift’s works, which all came out of the twopenny box. -Any one observing my actions and tastes would have said that so strong -a spring would certainly overflow, but for my own part I never dreamed -I could myself produce decent prose, and the remark of my friend, who -was by no means given to flattery, took me greatly by surprise. I -sat down, however, and wrote a little adventure story which I called -“The Mystery of the Sassassa Valley.” To my great joy and surprise it -was accepted by “Chambers’ Journal,” and I received three guineas. -It mattered not that other attempts failed. I had done it once and I -cheered myself by the thought that I could do it again. It was years -before I touched “Chambers’” again, but in 1879 I had a story, “The -American’s Tale,” in “London Society,” for which also I got a small -cheque. But the idea of real success was still far from my mind. - -During all this time our family affairs had taken no turn for the -better, and had it not been for my excursions and for the work of -my sisters we could hardly have carried on. My father’s health had -utterly broken, he had to retire to that Convalescent Home in which -the last years of his life were spent, and I, aged twenty, found myself -practically the head of a large and struggling family. My father’s life -was full of the tragedy of unfulfilled powers and of undeveloped gifts. -He had his weaknesses, as all of us have ours, but he had also some -very remarkable and outstanding virtues. A tall man, long-bearded, and -elegant, he had a charm of manner and a courtesy of bearing which I -have seldom seen equalled. His wit was quick and playful. He possessed, -also, a remarkable delicacy of mind which would give him moral courage -enough to rise and leave any company which talked in a manner which -was coarse. When he passed away a few years later I am sure that -Charles Doyle had no enemy in the world, and that those who knew him -best sympathized most with the hard fate which had thrown him, a man -of sensitive genius, into an environment which neither his age nor -his nature was fitted to face. He was unworldly and unpractical and -his family suffered for it, but even his faults were in some ways the -result of his developed spirituality. He lived and died a fervent son -of the Roman Catholic faith. My mother, however, who had never been a -very devoted daughter of that great institution, became less so as life -progressed, and finally found her chief consolation in the Anglican -fold. - -This brings me to my own spiritual unfolding, if such it may be -called, during those years of constant struggle. I have already in my -account of the Jesuits shown how, even as a boy, all that was sanest -and most generous in my nature rose up against a narrow theology and -an uncharitable outlook upon the other great religions of the world. -In the Catholic Church to doubt anything is to doubt everything, for -since it is a vital axiom that doubt is a mortal sin when once it has, -unbidden and unappeasable, come upon you, everything is loosened and -you look upon the whole wonderful interdependent scheme with other -and more critical eyes. Thus viewed there was much to attract--its -traditions, its unbroken and solemn ritual, the beauty and truth of -many of its observances, its poetical appeal to the emotions, the -sensual charm of music, light and incense, its power as an instrument -of law and order. For the guidance of an unthinking and uneducated -world it could in many ways hardly be surpassed, as has been shown in -Paraguay, and in the former Ireland where, outside agrarian trouble, -crime was hardly known. All this I could clearly see, but if I may -claim any outstanding characteristic in my life, it is that I have -never paltered or compromised with religious matters, that I have -always weighed them very seriously, and that there was something in -me which made it absolutely impossible, even when my most immediate -interests were concerned, to say anything about them save that which -I, in the depth of my being, really believed to be true. Judging it -thus by all the new knowledge which came to me both from my reading -and from my studies, I found that the foundations not only of Roman -Catholicism but of the whole Christian faith, as presented to me in -nineteenth century theology, were so weak that my mind could not build -upon them. It is to be remembered that these were the years when -Huxley, Tyndall, Darwin, Herbert Spencer and John Stuart Mill were our -chief philosophers, and that even the man in the street felt the strong -sweeping current of their thought, while to the young student, eager -and impressionable, it was overwhelming. I know now that their negative -attitude was even more mistaken, and very much more dangerous, than the -positive positions which they attacked with such destructive criticism. -A gap had opened between our fathers and ourselves so suddenly and -completely that when a Gladstone wrote to uphold the Gadarene swine, or -the six days of Creation, the youngest student rightly tittered over -his arguments, and it did not need a Huxley to demolish them. I can -see now very clearly how deplorable it is that manifest absurdities -should be allowed to continue without even a footnote to soften them -in the sacred text, because it has the effect that what is indeed -sacred becomes overlaid, and one can easily be persuaded that what is -false in parts can have no solid binding force. There are no worse -enemies of true religion than those who clamour against all revision -or modification of that strange mass of superbly good and questionable -matter which we lump all together into a single volume as if there were -the same value to all of it. It is not solid gold, but gold in clay, -and if this be understood the earnest seeker will not cast it aside -when he comes upon the clay, but will value the gold the more in that -he has himself separated it. - -It was, then, all Christianity, and not Roman Catholicism alone, which -had alienated my mind and driven me to an agnosticism, which never for -an instant degenerated into atheism, for I had a very keen perception -of the wonderful poise of the universe and the tremendous power of -conception and sustenance which it implied. I was reverent in all -my doubts and never ceased to think upon the matter, but the more I -thought the more confirmed became my non-conformity. In a broad sense -I was a Unitarian, save that I regarded the Bible with more criticism -than Unitarians usually show. This negative position was so firm that -it seemed to me to be a terminus; whereas it proved only a junction on -the road of life where I was destined to change from the old well-worn -line on to a new one. Every materialist, as I can now clearly see, is -a case of arrested development. He has cleared his ruins, but has not -begun to build that which would shelter him. As to psychic knowledge, I -knew it only by the account of exposures in the police courts and the -usual wild and malicious statements in the public press. Years were -to pass before I understood that in that direction might be found the -positive proofs which I constantly asserted were the only conditions -upon which I could resume any sort of allegiance to the unseen. I must -have definite demonstration, for if it were to be a matter of faith -then I might as well go back to the faith of my fathers. “Never will -I accept anything which cannot be proved to me. The evils of religion -have all come from accepting things which cannot be proved.” So I said -at the time and I have been true to my resolve. - -I would not give the impression that my life was gloomy or morbidly -thoughtful because it chanced that I had some extra cares and some -worrying thoughts. I had an eager nature which missed nothing in the -way of fun which could be gathered, and I had a great capacity for -enjoyment. I read much. I played games all I could. I danced, and I -sampled the drama whenever I had a sixpence to carry me to the gallery. -On one occasion I got into a row which might have been serious. I was -waiting on the gallery steps with a great line of people, the shut -door still facing us. There were half a dozen soldiers in the crowd and -one of these squeezed a girl up against the wall in such a way that she -began to scream. As I was near them I asked the man to be more gentle, -on which he dug his elbow with all his force into my ribs. He turned on -me as he did so, and I hit him with both hands in the face. He bored -into me and pushed me up into the angle of the door, but I had a grip -of him and he could not hit me, though he tried to kick me in cowardly -fashion with his knee. Several of his comrades threatened me, and one -hit me on the head with his cane, cracking my hat. At this moment -luckily the door opened and the rush of the crowd carried the soldiers -on, one sympathetic corporal saying, “Take your breath, sir! Take your -breath!” I threw my man through the open door and came home, for it was -clearly asking for trouble if I remained. It was a good escape from an -awkward business. - -And now I come to the first real outstanding adventure in my life, -which is worthy of a fresh chapter and of a more elaborate treatment. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -WHALING IN THE ARCTIC OCEAN - - The _Hope_--John Gray--Boxing--The Terrible Mate--Our Criminal--First - Sight of a Woman--A Hurricane--Dangers of the Fishing--Three Dips - in the Arctic--The Idlers’ Boat--Whale Taking--Glamour of the - Arctic--Effect of Voyage. - - -It was in the _Hope_, under the command of the well-known whaler, John -Gray, that I paid a seven months’ visit to the Arctic Seas in the year -1880. I went in the capacity of surgeon, but as I was only twenty years -of age when I started, and as my knowledge of medicine was that of an -average third year’s student, I have often thought that it was as well -that there was no very serious call upon my services. - -It came about in this way. One raw afternoon in Edinburgh, whilst I -was sitting reading hard for one of those examinations which blight -the life of a medical student, there entered to me one Currie, a -fellow-student with whom I had some slight acquaintance. The monstrous -question which he asked drove all thought of my studies out of my head. - -“Would you care,” said he, “to start next week for a whaling cruise? -You’ll be surgeon, two pound ten a month and three shillings a ton oil -money.” - -“How do you know I’ll get the berth?” was my natural question. - -“Because I have it myself. I find at this last moment that I can’t go, -and I want to get a man to take my place.” - -“How about an Arctic kit?” - -“You can have mine.” - -In an instant the thing was settled, and within a few minutes the -current of my life had been deflected into a new channel. - -In little more than a week I was in Peterhead, and busily engaged, with -the help of the steward, in packing away my scanty belongings in the -locker beneath my bunk on the good ship _Hope_. - -I speedily found that the chief duty of the surgeon was to be the -companion of the captain, who is cut off by the etiquette of the -trade from anything but very brief and technical talks with his other -officers. I should have found it intolerable if the captain had been -a bad fellow, but John Gray of the _Hope_ was a really splendid man, -a grand seaman and a serious-minded Scot, so that he and I formed a -comradeship which was never marred during our long _tête-à-tête_. I -see him now, his ruddy face, his grizzled hair and beard, his very -light blue eyes always looking into far spaces, and his erect muscular -figure. Taciturn, sardonic, stern on occasion, but always a good just -man at bottom. - -There was one curious thing about the manning of the _Hope_. The man -who signed on as first mate was a little, decrepit, broken fellow, -absolutely incapable of performing the duties. The cook’s assistant, on -the other hand, was a giant of a man, red-bearded, bronzed, with huge -limbs, and a voice of thunder. But the moment that the ship cleared the -harbour the little, decrepit mate disappeared into the cook’s galley, -and acted as scullery-boy for the voyage, while the mighty scullery-boy -walked aft and became chief mate. The fact was, that the one had the -certificate, but was past sailoring, while the other could neither read -nor write, but was as fine a seaman as ever lived; so, by an agreement -to which everybody concerned was party, they swapped their berths when -they were at sea. - -Colin McLean, with his six foot of stature, his erect, stalwart figure, -and his fierce, red beard, pouring out from between the flaps of his -sealing-cap, was an officer by natural selection, which is a higher -title than that of a Board of Trade certificate. His only fault was -that he was a very hot-blooded man, and that a little would excite him -to a frenzy. I have a vivid recollection of an evening which I spent in -dragging him off the steward, who had imprudently made some criticism -upon his way of attacking a whale which had escaped. Both men had had -some rum, which had made the one argumentative and the other violent, -and as we were all three seated in a space of about seven by four, it -took some hard work to prevent bloodshed. Every now and then, just as -I thought all danger was past, the steward would begin again with his -fatuous, “No offence, Colin, but all I says is that if you had been a -bit quicker on the fush----” I don’t know how often this sentence was -begun, but never once was it ended; for at the word “fush” Colin always -seized him by the throat, and I Colin round the waist, and we struggled -until we were all panting and exhausted. Then when the steward had -recovered a little breath he would start that miserable sentence once -more, and the “fush” would be the signal for another encounter. I -really believe that if I had not been there the mate would have hurt -him, for he was quite the angriest man that I have ever seen. - -There were fifty men upon our whaler, of whom half were Scotchmen -and half Shetlanders, whom we picked up at Lerwick as we passed. The -Shetlanders were the steadier and more tractable, quiet, decent, and -soft-spoken; while the Scotch seamen were more likely to give trouble, -but also more virile and of stronger character. The officers and -harpooners were all Scotch, but as ordinary seamen, and especially as -boatmen, the Shetlanders were as good as could be wished. - -There was only one man on board who belonged neither to Scotland -nor to Shetland, and he was the mystery of the ship. He was a tall, -swarthy, dark-eyed man, with blue-black hair and beard, singularly -handsome features, and a curious, reckless sling of his shoulders when -he walked. It was rumoured that he came from the south of England, and -that he had fled thence to avoid the law. He made friends with no one, -and spoke very seldom, but he was one of the smartest seamen in the -ship. I could believe from his appearance that his temper was Satanic, -and that the crime for which he was hiding may have been a bloody one. -Only once he gave us a glimpse of his hidden fires. The cook--a very -burly, powerful man--the little mate was only assistant--had a private -store of rum, and treated himself so liberally to it that for three -successive days the dinner of the crew was ruined. On the third day -our silent outlaw approached the cook with a brass saucepan in his -hand. He said nothing, but he struck the man such a frightful blow that -his head flew through the bottom and the sides of the pan were left -dangling round his neck. The half-drunken, half-stunned cook talked of -fighting, but he was soon made to feel that the sympathy of the ship -was against him, so he reeled back, grumbling, to his duties while the -avenger relapsed into his usual moody indifference. We heard no further -complaints of the cooking. - -I have spoken of the steward, and as I look back at that long voyage, -during which for seven months we never set foot on land, the kindly -open face of Jack Lamb comes back to me. He had a beautiful and -sympathetic tenor voice, and many an hour have I listened to it with -its accompaniment of rattling plates and jingling knives, as he cleaned -up the dishes in his pantry. He had a great memory for pathetic and -sentimental songs, and it is only when you have not seen a woman’s -face for six months that you realize what sentiment means. When Jack -trilled out “Her bright smile haunts me still,” or “Wait for me at -Heaven’s Gate, sweet Belle Mahone,” he filled us all with a vague sweet -discontent which comes back to me now as I think of it. To appreciate -a woman one has to be out of sight of one for six months. I can well -remember that as we rounded the north of Scotland on our return we -dipped our flag to the lighthouse, being only some hundreds of yards -from the shore. A figure emerged to answer our salute, and the excited -whisper ran through the ship, “It’s a wumman!” The captain was on the -bridge with his telescope. I had the binoculars in the bows. Every one -was staring. She was well over fifty, short skirts and sea boots--but -she was a “wumman.” “Anything in a mutch!” the sailors used to say, and -I was of the same way of thinking. - -However, all this has come before its time. It was, I find by my log, -on February 28 at 2 p.m. that we sailed from Peterhead, amid a great -crowd and uproar. The decks were as clean as a yacht, and it was very -unlike my idea of a whaler. We ran straight into bad weather and the -glass went down at one time to 28.375, which is the lowest reading -I can remember in all my ocean wanderings. We just got into Lerwick -Harbour before the full force of the hurricane broke, which was so -great that lying at anchor with bare poles and partly screened we were -blown over to an acute angle. If it had taken us a few hours earlier -we should certainly have lost our boats--and the boats are the life of -a whaler. It was March 11 before the weather moderated enough to let -us get on, and by that time there were twenty whalers in the bay, so -that our setting forth was quite an occasion. That night and for a day -longer the _Hope_ had to take refuge in the lee of one of the outlying -islands. I got ashore and wandered among peat bogs, meeting strange, -barbarous, kindly people who knew nothing of the world. I was led back -to the ship by a wild, long-haired girl holding a torch, for the peat -holes make it dangerous at night--I can see her now, her tangled black -hair, her bare legs, madder-stained petticoat, and wild features under -the glare of the torch. I spoke to one old man there who asked me the -news. I said, “The Tay bridge is down,” which was then a fairly stale -item. He said, “Eh, have they built a brig over the Tay?” After that I -felt inclined to tell him about the Indian Mutiny. - -What surprised me most in the Arctic regions was the rapidity with -which you reach them. I had never realized that they lie at our very -doors. I think that we were only four days out from Shetland when we -were among the drift ice. I awoke one morning to hear the bump, bump of -the floating pieces against the side of the ship, and I went on deck -to see the whole sea covered with them to the horizon. They were none -of them large, but they lay so thick that a man might travel far by -springing from one to the other. Their dazzling whiteness made the sea -seem bluer by contrast, and with a blue sky above, and that glorious -Arctic air in one’s nostrils, it was a morning to remember. Once on one -of the swaying, rocking pieces we saw a huge seal, sleek, sleepy, and -imperturbable, looking up with the utmost assurance at the ship, as if -it knew that the close time had still three weeks to run. Further on we -saw on the ice the long human-like prints of a bear. All this with the -snowdrops of Scotland still fresh in our glasses in the cabin. - -I have spoken about the close time, and I may explain that, by an -agreement between the Norwegian and British Governments, the subjects -of both nations are forbidden to kill a seal before April 3. The reason -for this is that the breeding season is in March, and if the mothers -should be killed before the young are able to take care of themselves, -the race would soon become extinct. For breeding purposes the seals -all come together at a variable spot, which is evidently pre-arranged -among them, and as this place can be anywhere within many hundreds of -square miles of floating ice, it is no easy matter for the fisher to -find it. The means by which he sets about it are simple but ingenious. -As the ship makes its way through the loose ice-streams, a school -of seals is observed travelling through the water. Their direction -is carefully taken by compass and marked upon the chart. An hour -afterwards perhaps another school is seen. This is also marked. When -these bearings have been taken several times, the various lines upon -the chart are prolonged until they intersect. At this point, or near -it, it is likely that the main pack of the seals will be found. - -When you do come upon it, it is a wonderful sight. I suppose it is the -largest assembly of creatures upon the face of the world--and this -upon the open icefields hundreds of miles from the Greenland coast. -Somewhere between 71 deg. and 75 deg. is the rendezvous, and the -longitude is even vaguer; but the seals have no difficulty in finding -the address. From the crow’s nest at the top of the main-mast, one -can see no end of them. On the furthest visible ice one can still see -that sprinkling of pepper grains. And the young lie everywhere also, -snow-white slugs, with a little black nose and large dark eyes. Their -half-human cries fill the air; and when you are sitting in the cabin of -a ship which is in the heart of the seal-pack, you would think you were -next door to a monstrous nursery. - -The _Hope_ was one of the first to find the seal-pack that year, but -before the day came when hunting was allowed, we had a succession of -strong gales, followed by a severe roll, which tilted the floating ice -and launched the young seals prematurely into the water. And so, when -the law at last allowed us to begin work, Nature had left us with very -little work to do. However, at dawn upon the third, the ship’s company -took to the ice, and began to gather in its murderous harvest. It is -brutal work, though not more brutal than that which goes on to supply -every dinner-table in the country. And yet those glaring crimson pools -upon the dazzling white of the icefields, under the peaceful silence -of a blue Arctic sky, did seem a horrible intrusion. But an inexorable -demand creates an inexorable supply, and the seals, by their death, -help to give a living to the long line of seamen, dockers, tanners, -curers, triers, chandlers, leather merchants, and oil-sellers, who -stand between this annual butchery on the one hand, and the exquisite, -with his soft leather boots, or the savant, using a delicate oil for -his philosophical instruments, upon the other. - -I have cause to remember that first day of sealing on account of the -adventures which befell me. I have said that a strong swell had arisen, -and as this was dashing the floating ice together the captain thought -it dangerous for an inexperienced man to venture upon it. And so, just -as I was clambering over the bulwarks with the rest, he ordered me -back and told me to remain on board. My remonstrances were useless, -and at last, in the blackest of tempers, I seated myself upon the top -of the bulwarks, with my feet dangling over the outer side, and there -I nursed my wrath, swinging up and down with the roll of the ship. -It chanced, however, that I was really seated upon a thin sheet of -ice which had formed upon the wood, and so when the swell threw her -over to a particularly acute angle, I shot off and vanished into the -sea between two ice-blocks. As I rose, I clawed on to one of these, -and soon scrambled on board again. The accident brought about what I -wished, however, for the captain remarked that as I was bound to fall -into the ocean in any case, I might just as well be on the ice as on -the ship. I justified his original caution by falling in twice again -during the day, and I finished it ignominiously by having to take to -my bed while all my clothes were drying in the engine-room. I was -consoled for my misfortunes by finding that they amused the captain to -such an extent that they drove the ill-success of our sealing out of -his head, and I had to answer to the name of “the great northern diver” -for a long time thereafter. I had a narrow escape once through stepping -backwards over the edge of a piece of floating ice while I was engaged -in skinning a seal. I had wandered away from the others, and no one saw -my misfortune. The face of the ice was so even that I had no purchase -by which to pull myself up, and my body was rapidly becoming numb in -the freezing water. At last, however, I caught hold of the hind flipper -of the dead seal, and there was a kind of nightmare tug-of-war, the -question being whether I should pull the seal off or pull myself on. -At last, however, I got my knee over the edge and rolled on to it. I -remember that my clothes were as hard as a suit of armour by the time I -reached the ship, and that I had to thaw my crackling garments before I -could change them. - -This April sealing is directed against the mothers and young. Then, in -May, the sealer goes further north, and about latitude 77 deg. or 78 -deg. he comes upon the old male seals, who are by no means such easy -victims. They are wary creatures, and it takes good long-range shooting -to bag them. Then, in June, the sealing is over, and the ship bears -away further north still, until in the 79th or 80th degree she is in -the best Greenland whaling latitudes. There we stayed for three months -or so, with very varying fortunes, for though we pursued many whales, -only four were slain. - -There are eight boats on board a whaler, but it is usual to send out -only seven, for it takes six men to man each, so that when seven are -out no one is left on board save the so-called “idlers” who have not -signed to do seaman’s work at all. It happened, however, that aboard -the _Hope_ the idlers were rather a hefty crowd, so we volunteered to -man the odd boat, and we made it, in our own estimation at least, one -of the most efficient, both in sealing and in whaling. The steward, the -second engineer, the donkey-engine man, and I were the oars, with a -red-headed Highlander for harpooner and the handsome outlaw to steer. -Our tally of seals was high, and in whaling we were once the lancing -and once the harpooning boat, so our record was good. So congenial -was the work to me that Captain Gray was good enough to offer to make -me harpooner as well as surgeon, with the double pay, if I would come -with him on a second voyage. It is well that I refused, for the life is -dangerously fascinating. - -[Illustration: STEAM-WHALER “HOPE.”] - -It is exciting work pulling on to a whale. Your own back is turned to -him, and all you know about him is what you read upon the face of the -boat-steerer. He is staring out over your head, watching the creature -as it swims slowly through the water, raising his hand now and again -as a signal to stop rowing when he sees that the eye is coming round, -and then resuming the stealthy approach when the whale is end on. There -are so many floating pieces of ice, that as long as the oars are quiet -the boat alone will not cause the creature to dive. So you creep slowly -up, and at last you are so near that the boat-steerer knows that you -can get there before the creature has time to dive--for it takes some -little time to get that huge body into motion. You see a sunken gleam -in his eyes, and a flush in his cheeks, and it’s “Give way, boys! Give -way, all! Hard!” Click goes the trigger of the big harpoon gun, and -the foam flies from your oars. Six strokes, perhaps, and then with -a dull greasy squelch the bows run upon something soft, and you and -your oars are sent flying in every direction. But little you care for -that, for as you touched the whale you have heard the crash of the gun, -and know that the harpoon has been fired point-blank into the huge, -lead-coloured curve of its side. The creature sinks like a stone, the -bows of the boat splash down into the water again, but there is the -little red Jack flying from the centre thwart to show that you are -fast, and there is the line whizzing swiftly under the seats and over -the bows between your outstretched feet. - -And this is the great element of danger--for it is rarely indeed that -the whale has spirit enough to turn upon its enemies. The line is -very carefully coiled by a special man named the line-coiler, and it -is warranted not to kink. If it should happen to do so, however, and -if the loop catches the limbs of any one of the boat’s crew, that man -goes to his death so rapidly that his comrades hardly know that he has -gone. It is a waste of fish to cut the line, for the victim is already -hundreds of fathoms deep. - -“Haud your hand, mon,” cried the harpooner, as a seaman raised his -knife on such an occasion. “The fush will be a fine thing for the -widdey.” It sounds callous, but there was philosophy at the base of it. - -This is the harpooning, and that boat has no more to do. But the -lancing, when the weary fish is killed with the cold steel, is a more -exciting because it is a more prolonged experience. You may be for half -an hour so near to the creature that you can lay your hand upon its -slimy side. The whale appears to have but little sensibility to pain, -for it never winces when the long lances are passed through its body. -But its instinct urges it to get its tail to work on the boats, and -yours urges you to keep poling and boat-hooking along its side, so as -to retain your safe position near its shoulder. Even there, however, we -found on one occasion that we were not quite out of danger’s way, for -the creature in its flurry raised its huge-side-flapper and poised it -over the boat. One flap would have sent us to the bottom of the sea, -and I can never forget how, as we pushed our way from under, each of -us held one hand up to stave off that great, threatening fin--as if -any strength of ours could have availed if the whale had meant it to -descend. But it was spent with loss of blood, and instead of coming -down the fin rolled over the other way, and we knew that it was dead. -Who would swap that moment for any other triumph that sport can give? - -The peculiar other-world feeling of the Arctic regions--a feeling so -singular that if you have once been there the thought of it haunts -you all your life--is due largely to the perpetual daylight. Night -seems more orange-tinted and subdued than day, but there is no great -difference. Some captains have been known to turn their hours right -round out of caprice, with breakfast at night and supper at ten in -the morning. There are your twenty-four hours, and you may carve them -as you like. After a month or two the eyes grow weary of the eternal -light, and you appreciate what a soothing thing our darkness is. I can -remember as we came abreast of Iceland, on our return, catching our -first glimpse of a star, and being unable to take my eyes from it, -it seemed such a dainty little twinkling thing. Half the beauties of -Nature are lost through over-familiarity. - -Your sense of loneliness also heightens the effect of the Arctic -Seas. When we were in whaling latitudes it is probable that, with the -exception of our consort, there was no vessel within 800 miles of -us. For seven long months no letter and no news came to us from the -southern world. We had left in exciting times. The Afghan campaign -had been undertaken, and war seemed imminent with Russia. We returned -opposite the mouth of the Baltic without any means of knowing whether -some cruiser might not treat us as we had treated the whales. When we -met a fishing-boat at the north of Shetland our first inquiry was as -to peace or war. Great events had happened during those seven months: -the defeat of Maiwand and the famous march of Roberts from Cabul to -Candahar. But it was all haze to us; and, to this day, I have never -been able to get that particular bit of military history straightened -out in my own mind. - -The perpetual light, the glare of the white ice, the deep blue of the -water, these are the things which one remembers most clearly, and the -dry, crisp, exhilarating air, which makes mere life the keenest of -pleasures. And then there are the innumerable sea-birds, whose call is -for ever ringing in your ears--the gulls, the fulmars, the snow-birds, -the burgomasters, the loons, and the rotjes. These fill the air, and -below, the waters are for ever giving you a peep of some strange new -creature. The commercial whale may not often come your way, but his -less valuable brethren abound on every side. The finner shows his 90 -feet of worthless tallow, with the absolute conviction that no whaler -would condescend to lower a boat for him. The mis-shapen hunchback -whale, the ghost-like white whale, the narwhal, with his unicorn horn, -the queer-looking bottle-nose, the huge, sluggish, Greenland shark, and -the terrible killing grampus, the most formidable of all the monsters -of the deep,--these are the creatures who own those unsailed seas. On -the ice are the seals, the saddle-backs, the ground seals and the huge -bladdernoses, 12 feet from nose to tail, with the power of blowing -up a great blood-red football upon their noses when they are angry, -which they usually are. Occasionally one sees a white Arctic fox upon -the ice, and everywhere are the bears. The floes in the neighbourhood -of the sealing-ground are all criss-crossed with their tracks--poor -harmless creatures, with the lurch and roll of a deep-sea mariner. It -is for the sake of the seals that they come out over those hundreds -of miles of ice; and they have a very ingenious method of catching -them, for they will choose a big icefield with just one blow-hole for -seals in the middle of it. Here the bear will squat, with its powerful -forearms crooked round the hole. Then, when the seal’s head pops up, -the great paws snap together, and Bruin has got his luncheon. We used -occasionally to burn some of the cook’s refuse in the engine-room -fires, and the smell would, in a few hours, bring up every bear for -many miles to leeward of us. - -Though twenty or thirty whales have been taken in a single year in -the Greenland seas, it is probable that the great slaughter of last -century has diminished their number until there are not more than a few -hundreds in existence. I mean, of course, of the right whale, for the -others, as I have said, abound. It is difficult to compute the numbers -of a species which comes and goes over great tracts of water and among -huge icefields, but the fact that the same whale is often pursued by -the same whaler upon successive trips shows how limited their number -must be. There was one, I remember, which was conspicuous through -having a huge wart, the size and shape of a beehive, upon one of the -flukes of its tail. “I’ve been after that fellow three times,” said the -captain, as we dropped our boats. “He got away in ’71. In ’74 we had -him fast, but the harpoon drew. In ’76 a fog saved him. It’s odds that -we have him now!” I fancied that the betting lay rather the other way -myself, and so it proved, for that warty tail is still thrashing the -Arctic seas for all that I know to the contrary. - -I shall never forget my own first sight of a right whale. It had -been seen by the look-out on the other side of a small icefield, but -had sunk as we all rushed on deck. For ten minutes we awaited its -reappearance, and I had taken my eyes from the place, when a general -gasp of astonishment made me glance up, and there was the whale _in -the air_. Its tail was curved just as a trout’s is in jumping, and -every bit of its glistening lead-coloured body was clear of the water. -It was little wonder that I should be astonished, for the captain, -after thirty voyages, had never seen such a sight. On catching it we -discovered that it was very thickly covered with a red, crab-like -parasite, about the size of a shilling, and we conjectured that it was -the irritation of these creatures which had driven it wild. If a man -had short, nailless flippers, and a prosperous family of fleas upon his -back, he would appreciate the situation. - -Apart from sport, there is a glamour about those circumpolar regions -which must affect everyone who has penetrated to them. My heart goes -out to that old, grey-headed whaling captain who, having been left -for an instant when at death’s door, staggered off in his night gear, -and was found by nurses far from his house and still, as he mumbled, -“pushing to the norrard.” So an Arctic fox, which a friend of mine -endeavoured to tame, escaped, and was caught many months afterwards -in a gamekeeper’s trap in Caithness. It was also pushing norrard, -though who can say by what strange compass it took its bearings? It -is a region of purity, of white ice and of blue water, with no human -dwelling within a thousand miles to sully the freshness of the breeze -which blows across the icefields. And then it is a region of romance -also. You stand on the very brink of the unknown, and every duck that -you shoot bears pebbles in its gizzard which come from a land which the -maps know not. It was a strange and fascinating chapter of my life. - -I went on board the whaler a big, straggling youth, I came off it a -powerful, well-grown man. I have no doubt that my physical health -during my whole life has been affected by that splendid air, and -that the inexhaustible store of energy which I have enjoyed is to -some extent drawn from the same source. It was mental and spiritual -stagnation, or even worse, for there is a coarsening effect in so -circumscribed a life with comrades who were fine, brave fellows, but -naturally rough and wild. However I had my health to show for it, and -also more money than I had ever possessed before. I was still boyish in -many ways, and I remember that I concealed gold pieces in every pocket -of every garment, that my mother might have the excitement of hunting -for them. It added some fifty pounds to her small exchequer. - -Now I had a straight run in to my final examination, which I passed -with fair but not notable distinction at the end of the winter session -of 1881. I was now a Bachelor of Medicine and a Master of Surgery, -fairly launched upon my professional career. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE VOYAGE TO WEST AFRICA - - The _Mayumba_--Fearful Weather--An Escape--Hanno’s Voyage-- - Atlantis--A Land of Death--Blackwater Fever--Missionaries--Strange - Fish--Danger of Luxury--A Foolish Swim--The Ship on Fire--England once - more. - - -It had always been my intention to take a voyage as ship’s surgeon -when I had taken my degree, as I could in this way see something of -the world, and at the same time earn a little of the money which I so -badly needed if I were ever to start in practice for myself. When a -man is in the very early twenties he will not be taken seriously as a -practitioner, and though I looked old for my age, it was clear that I -had to fill in my time in some other way. My plans were all exceedingly -fluid, and I was ready to join the Army, Navy, Indian Service or -anything which offered an opening. I had no reason to think that I -would find a billet upon a passenger ship and had nearly forgotten that -I had my name down, when I suddenly received a telegram telling me -to come to Liverpool and to take medical charge of the African Steam -Navigation Company’s _Mayumba_, bound for the West Coast. In a week I -was there, and on October 22, 1881, we started on our voyage. - -The _Mayumba_ was a trim little steamer of about 4,000 tons--a giant -after my experience in the 200-ton whaler. She was built for commerce, -carrying mixed cargoes to the coast and coming back with palm oil in -puncheons, palm nuts in bulk, ivory and other tropical products. What -with whale oil and palm oil there certainly seemed to be something -greasy about my horoscope. There was room for twenty or thirty -passengers, and it was for their behoof that I was paid some £12 a -month. - -It was well that we were seaworthy, for we put out in a violent gale, -which became so bad as we emerged from the Mersey that we were forced -into Holyhead for the night. Next day, in vile and thick weather, -with a strong sea running, we made our way down the Irish Sea. I shall -always believe that I may have saved the ship from disaster, for as I -was standing near the officer of the watch I suddenly caught sight of a -lighthouse standing out in a rift in the fog. It was on the port side -and I could not imagine how any lighthouse could be on the port side -of a ship which was, as I knew, well down on the Irish coast. I hate -to be an alarmist, so I simply touched the mate’s sleeve, pointed to -the dim outline of the lighthouse, and said: “Is that all right?” He -fairly jumped as his eye lit upon it and he gave a yell to the men at -the wheel and rang a violent signal to the engine-room. The lighthouse, -if I remember right, was the Tuskar, and we were heading right into a -rocky promontory which was concealed by the rain and fog. - -I have been lucky in my captains, for Captain Gordon Wallace was one -of the best, and we have kept in touch during the later years. Our -passengers were mostly for Madeira, but there were some pleasant -ladies bound for the Coast, and some unpleasant negro traders whose -manners and bearing were objectionable, but who were patrons of the -line and must, therefore, be tolerated. Some of these palm oil chiefs -and traders have incomes of many thousands a year, but as they have no -cultivated tastes they can only spend their money on drink, debauchery -and senseless extravagance. One of them, I remember, had a choice -selection of the demi-monde of Liverpool to see him off. - -The storms followed us all the way down the Channel and across the -Bay, which is normal, I suppose, at such a time of year. Everyone -was seasick, so as doctor I had some work to do. However, before we -reached Madeira we ran into fine weather and all our troubles were soon -forgotten. One never realizes the comfort of a dry deck until one has -been ankle-deep for a week. I missed the sea-boots and rough-and-ready -dress of the whaler, for when one is in blue serge and gilt buttons one -does not care to take a ducking. Just as we thought, however, that we -were all right a worse gale than ever broke over us, the wind luckily -being behind us, so that it helped us on our way. With jib, trysail -and main staysail, which was as much as we could stand, we lurched -and staggered, swept every now and then by the big Atlantic combers, -which were phosphorescent at night, so that flames of liquid fire came -coursing down the decks. Very glad we were when after a week of storm -we saw the rugged peaks of Porto Sancto, an outlier of Madeira, and -finally came to anchor in Funchal Bay. It was dark when we reached our -moorings and it was good to see the lights of the town, and the great -dark loom of the hills behind it. A lunar rainbow spanned the whole -scene, a rare phenomenon which I have never seen before or since. - -Teneriffe was our next stopping-place, Santa Cruz being the port of -call. In those days it did a great trade in cochineal, which was -derived from an insect cultivated on the cacti. When dried they -furnished the dye, and a packet of the creatures averaged £350 at -that time, but now I suppose that the German aniline dyes have killed -the trade as completely as whaling has been killed by the mineral. -A day later we were at Las Palmas, capital of Grand Canary, whence, -looking back, we had a fine view of the famous Teneriffe Peak some 60 -miles away. Leaving Las Palmas we were in the delightful region of the -northeast trade-winds, the most glorious part of the ocean, seldom -rough, yet always lively, with foam-capped seas and a clear sky. Day by -day it grew hotter, however, and when we lost the Trades, and sighted -the Isle de Los off the Sierra Leone coast, I began to realize what the -Tropics meant. When you feel your napkin at meals to be an intolerable -thing, and when you find that it leaves a wet weal across your white -duck trousers, then you know that you really have arrived. - -On November 9 we reached Freetown, the capital of Sierra Leone, our -first port of call upon the African Main--a lovely spot but a place of -death. Here our ladies left us, and indeed it was sad to see them go, -for female lives are even shorter than male upon the coast. I speak of -the days of malaria and blackwater fever, before Ronald Ross and others -had done their great work of healing and prevention. It was a truly -dreadful place in the early eighties, and the despair which reigned in -the hearts of the white people made them take liberties with alcohol -which they would not have dared to take in a healthier place. A year’s -residence seemed to be about the limit of human endurance. I remember -meeting one healthy-looking resident who told me that he had been there -three years. When I congratulated him he shook his head. “I am a doomed -man. I have advanced Bright’s disease,” said he. One wondered whether -the colonies were really worth the price we had to pay. - -From Sierra Leone we steamed to Monrovia, which is the capital of the -negro republic of Liberia, which, as the name implies, was founded -mainly by escaped slaves. So far as I could see it was orderly enough, -though all small communities which take themselves seriously have a -comic aspect. Thus at the time of the Franco-German War, Liberia is -said to have sent out its single Customs boat, which represented its -official Navy, and stopped the British mail-ship in order to send word -to Europe that it did not intend to interfere in the matter. - -It is a very monotonous view, for whether it is the Ivory Coast or -the Gold Coast, or the Liberian shore, it always presents the same -features--burning sunshine, a long swell breaking into a white line -of surf, a margin of golden sand, and then the low green bush, with -an occasional palm tree rising above it. If you have seen a mile, you -have seen a thousand. As I write now, these ports at which we stopped, -Grand Bassam, Cape Palmas, Accra, Cape Coast Castle, all form the -same picture in my mind. One incident only I can remember. At some -small village, the name of which I have forgotten, there came off a -tall young Welshman in a state of furious excitement; his niggers had -mutinied and he was in fear of his life. “There they are waiting for -me!” he cried, and pointed to a dusky group upon the distant beach. We -offered to take him on, but he could not leave his property, so all we -could do was to promise to send a gunboat up from Cape Coast Castle. -I have often wondered how such people got on after the German menace -compelled us to draw in all our outlying fleets. - -This coast is dotted at night with native fires, some of them of great -extent, arising no doubt from their habit of burning the grass. It is -interesting that in Hanno’s account of his journey down the coast--the -only piece of Carthaginian literature which has reached us--he talks -also of the fires which he saw at night. As he speaks of gorillas it is -probable that he got as far as the Gaboon, or south of the Line. He -saw great volcanic activity, and the remains of it is still visible at -Fernando Po, which is almost all volcanic. In Hanno’s time, however, -the hills were actually spouting fire and the country was a sea of -flame, so that he dare not set foot on shore. I have wondered sometimes -whether the last cataclysm at Atlantis may not have been much later -than we think. The account of Plato puts it at about 9000 B.C., but it -may well have been a gradual thing and the last spasm have been that -of which Hanno saw the traces. All this activity which he described is -exactly opposite the spot where the old continent was supposed to have -been. - -Our ships have rough-and-ready ways as they jog down the coast. Once we -moved on while a hundred native visitors were still on board. It was -funny to see them dive off and make for their canoes. One of them had a -tall hat, an umbrella, and a large coloured picture of the Saviour--all -of which he had bought at the trading booths which the men rig up in -the forecastle. These impedimenta did not prevent him from swimming -to his boat. At another minor port, since we were pressed for time, -we simply threw our consignment of barrel staves overboard, knowing -that soon or late they would wash up on the beach, though how the real -owner could make good his claim to them I do not know. Occasionally the -native scores in this game. Some years ago, before Dahomey was annexed -by the French, the captain took the oil casks on board at Whydah by -means of a long rope and a donkey engine, an ingenious way of avoiding -the surf, which came to a sudden stop when a company of the famous -Amazons appeared and threatened to fire upon the ship if they did not -pay their dues to the surf boats in the ordinary fashion. - -I had myself to pay my dues to the climate, for on November 18 I find -an eloquent gap in my diary. We had reached Lagos, and there, rolling -in a greasy swell off that huge lagoon, the germ or the mosquito or -whatever it was reached me and I was down with a very sharp fever. I -remember staggering to my bunk and then all was blotted out. As I was -myself doctor there was no one to look after me and I lay for several -days fighting it out with Death in a very small ring and without a -second. It speaks well for my constitution that I came out a victor. -I remember no psychic experience, no vision, no fears, nothing save a -nightmare fog from which I emerged as weak as a child. It must have -been a close call, and I had scarcely sat up before I heard that -another victim who got it at the same time was dead. - -A week later found me, convalescent and full of energy once more, up -the Bonny River, which certainly never got its name from the Scotch -adjective, for it is in all ways hateful with its brown smelling stream -and its mango swamps. The natives were all absolute savages, offering -up human sacrifices to sharks and crocodiles. The captain had heard the -screams of the victims and seen them dragged down to the water’s edge, -while on another occasion he had seen the protruding skull of a man who -had been buried in an ant-heap. It is all very well to make game of the -missionaries, but how could such people ever be improved if it were not -for the labours of devoted men? - -We called at Fernando Po, and later at Victoria, a lovely little -settlement upon the Main, with the huge peak of the Cameroons rising -behind it. A dear homely Scotch lassie was playing the part of -missionary there, and if she did not evangelize she at least civilized, -which is more important. It lies in a beautiful bay studded with -islands and well wooded all round. For some reason the whole style of -the scenery changes completely here, and it is the more welcome after -the thousand miles of monotony to the north. All this land went, for -some reason, to Germany later, and has now reverted to the French, -who are not, as a rule, good Colonial neighbours. I went ashore at -Victoria, and I cannot forget my thrill when what I thought was a -good-sized blue bird passed me and I found that it was a butterfly. - -To reach Old Calabar we had to steam for 60 miles up the Old Calabar -River, the channel lying so near the shore that we brushed the trees -on one side. I lay in wait with my rifle, but though I saw the swirl -of several alligators none emerged. Old Calabar seemed the largest -and most prosperous place we had visited, but here also the hand of -death was over all, and it was “eat, drink, and be merry” for the old -and unsatisfactory reason. Here again we met one of these young lady -pioneers of civilization. Civilization is the better, but it is a stern -and dreadful call which summons a woman to such a work. - -Getting a canoe, I ascended the river for several miles to a place -called Creektown. Dark and terrible mangrove swamps lay on either side -with gloomy shades where nothing that is not horrible could exist. -It is indeed a foul place. Once in an isolated tree, standing in a -flood, I saw an evil-looking snake, worm-coloured and about 3 feet -long. I shot him and saw him drift down stream. I learned later in life -to give up killing animals, but I confess that I have no particular -compunctions about that one. Creektown is in native territory, and the -King sent down a peremptory order that we should report ourselves to -him, but as it sounded ominous and might mean a long delay we got our -paddles out and were soon back in British waters. - -I had a curious experience one morning. A large ribbon-shaped fish, -about 3 or 4 feet long, came up and swam upon the surface near the -ship. Having my gun handy, I shot it. I don’t think five seconds could -have elapsed before another larger and thicker fish--a big catfish, I -should say--darted up from the depths, seized the wounded fish by the -middle, and dragged it down. So murderous is the food-search, and so -keen the watch in Nature! I saw something similar in the mixed tank of -an aquarium once, where a fish stunned himself by swimming against the -glass front, and was instantly seized and devoured by his neighbour. A -strange fish to which I was introduced at Calabar was the electrical -torpedo fish. It is handed to you in an earthenware saucer--a quiet -little drab creature about 5 inches long--and you are asked to tickle -its back. Then you learn exactly how high you can jump. - -The death-like impression of Africa grew upon me. One felt that the -white man with his present diet and habits was an intruder who was -never meant to be there, and that the great sullen brown continent -killed him as one crushes nits. I find in my diary: - - “Oh Africa, where are the charms - That sages have seen in thy face? - Better dwell in Old England on alms - Than be rich in that terrible place.” - -The life aboard ship, however, was an easy and, in some ways, a -luxurious one--too luxurious for a young man who had his way to make -in the world. Premature comfort is a deadly enervating thing. I -remember considering my own future--I stood upon the poop with a raging -thunderstorm around me--and seeing very clearly that one or two more -such voyages would sap my simple habits and make me unfit for the hard -struggle which any sort of success would need. The idea of success in -literature had never crossed my mind. It was still of medicine only -that I thought, but I knew by my Birmingham experience how long and -rough a path it was for those who had no influence and could not afford -to buy. Then and there I vowed that I would wander no more, and that -was surely one of the turning-points of my life. A “Wander-Jahr” is -good, but two “Wander-Jahre” may mean damnation--and it is hard to -stop. I find that on the same day of fruitful meditation I swore off -alcohol for the rest of the voyage. I drank quite freely at this period -of my life, having a head and a constitution which made me fairly -immune, but my reason told me that the unbounded cocktails of West -Africa were a danger, and with an effort I cut them out. There is a -certain subtle pleasure in abstinence, and it is only socially that it -is difficult. If we were all abstainers as a matter of course, like the -real Mahomedans, none of us would ever miss it. - -I did a mad thing at Cape Coast Castle, for, in a spirit either of -bravado or pure folly, I swam round the ship--or at least for some -length along her and back again. I suppose it was the consideration -that black folk go freely into the water which induced me to do it. For -some reason white folk do not share the same immunity. As I was drying -myself on deck I saw the triangular back fin of a shark rise to the -surface. Several times in my life I have done utterly reckless things -with so little motive that I have found it difficult to explain them to -myself afterwards. This was one of them. - -The most intelligent and well-read man whom I met on the Coast was -a negro, the American Consul at Monrovia. He came on with us as a -passenger. My starved literary side was eager for good talk, and it -was wonderful to sit on deck discussing Bancroft and Motley, and then -suddenly realize that you were talking to one who had possibly been a -slave himself, and was certainly the son of slaves. He had thought a -good deal about African travel. “The only way to explore Africa is to -go without arms and with few servants. You would not like it in England -if a body of men came armed to the teeth and marched through your land. -The Africans are quite as sensitive.” It was the method of Livingstone -as against the method of Stanley. The former takes the braver and -better man. - -This negro gentleman did me good, for a man’s brain is an organ for -the formation of his own thoughts and also for the digestion of other -people’s, and it needs fresh fodder. We had, of course, books aboard -the ship, but neither many nor good. I cannot trace that I made any -mental or spiritual advancement during the voyage, but I added one more -experience to my chaplet, and I suppose it all goes to some ultimate -result in character or personality. I was a strong full-blooded young -man, full of the joy of life, with nothing of what Oliver Wendell -Holmes calls “pathological piety and tuberculous virtues.” I was a man -among men. I walked ever among pitfalls and I thank all ministering -angels that I came through, while I have a softened heart for those who -did not. - -Our voyage home--oil-gathering from port to port on the same but -reversed route--was uneventful until the very last stride, when just as -we were past Madeira the ship took fire. Whether it was the combustion -of coal dust has never been determined, but certainly the fire broke -out in the bunkers, and as there was only a wooden partition between -these bunkers and a cargo of oil, we were in deadly danger. For the -first day we took it lightly, as a mere smoulder, and for a second and -third day we were content to seal the gratings as far as possible, to -play down on it with the hose, and to shift the coal away from the -oil. On the fourth morning, however, things took a sudden turn for the -worse. I copy from my log book: - -“January 9. I was awakened early in the morning by the purser, Tom -King, poking his head in at my door and informing me that the ship was -in a blaze, and that all hands had been called and were working down -below. I got my clothes on, but when I came on deck nothing was to be -seen of it save thick volumes of smoke from the bunker ventilators, -and a lurid glow down below. I offered to go down, but there seemed -to be as many working as could be fitted in. I was then asked to call -the passengers. I waked each in turn, and they all faced the situation -very bravely and coolly. One, a Swiss, sat up in his bunk, rubbed his -eyes, and in answer to my remark: ‘The ship is on fire!’ said: ‘I have -often been on ships that were on fire.’ ‘Splendide mendax’--but a good -spirit! All day we fought the flames, and the iron side of the ship -was red-hot at one point. Boats were prepared and provisioned and no -doubt at the worst we could row or sail them to Lisbon, where my dear -sisters would be considerably surprised if their big brother walked in. -However, we are getting the better of it, and by evening those ominous -pillars of smoke were down to mere wisps. So ends an ugly business!” - -On January 14 we were in Liverpool once more, and West Africa was but -one more of the cinema reels of memory. It is, I am told, very much -improved now in all things. My old friend and cricket companion, Sir -Fred. Guggisberg, is Governor at Accra and has asked me to see the old -ground under very different auspices. I wish I could, but the sands -still run and there is much to be done. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -MY FIRST EXPERIENCES IN PRACTICE - - A Strange Character--His Honeymoon--His Bristol Practice--Telegram - from Plymouth--Six Amusing Weeks--A Deep Plot--My Southsea - Venture--Furnishing on the Cheap--The Plot Explodes. - - -I have now come to the temporary end of my voyages, which were to be -renewed in years to come, and I have reached the time when, under very -curious circumstances, I endeavoured to establish myself in medical -practice. In a book written some years afterwards called “The Stark -Munro Letters,” I drew in very close detail the events of the next -few years, and there the curious reader will find them more clearly -and fully set out than would be to scale in these pages. I would only -remark, should any reader reconstruct me or my career from that book, -that there are some few incidents there which are imaginary, and that, -especially, the whole incident of the case of a lunatic and of Lord -Saltire in Chapter IV occurred to a friend and not to myself. Otherwise -the whole history of my association with the man whom I called -Cullingworth, his extraordinary character, our parting and the way in -which I was left to what seemed certain ruin, were all as depicted. -I will here simply give the essentials of the story, and retain the -fictitious name. - -In my last year of study at Edinburgh I formed a friendship with this -remarkable student. He came of a famous medical family, his father -having been a great authority upon zymotic disease. He came also of a -famous athletic stock, and was a great Rugby forward himself, though -rather handicapped by the Berserk fury with which he would play. He -was up to international form, and his younger brother was reckoned -by good judges to be about the best forward who ever donned the -rose-embroidered jersey of England. - -Cullingworth was as strong mentally as physically. In person he was -about 5 ft. 9 in. in height, perfectly built, with a bulldog jaw, -bloodshot deep-set eyes, overhanging brows, and yellowish hair as -stiff as wire, which spurted up above his brows. He was a man born for -trouble and adventure, unconventional in his designs and formidable in -his powers of execution--a man of action with a big but incalculable -brain guiding the action. He died in early middle age, and I understand -that an autopsy revealed some cerebral abnormality, so that there was -no doubt a pathological element in his strange explosive character. -For some reason he took a fancy to me, and appeared to attach an undue -importance to my advice. - -When I met him first he had just indulged in one of his wild escapades, -which ended usually in a fight or in a transitory appearance in a -police court, but on this occasion was more serious and permanent. -He had run off with a charming young lady and married her, she being -a ward in Chancery and under age. However, the deed was done and -all the lawyers in the world could not undo it, though they might -punish the culprit. He told me how he and the lady had gone over a -Bradshaw with the intention that when they came on a station of which -neither of them had ever heard, they would make for that place and -spend their honeymoon there. They came therefore upon some awful -name, Clodpole-in-the-Marsh or something of the kind, and there -they sojourned in the village inn. Cullingworth stained his yellow -hair black, but the stain took in some places and not in others, -so that he looked as if he had escaped from Barnum’s show. What -Clodpole-in-the-Marsh could have thought of such an extraordinary -couple I cannot imagine, and it is probably the one occasion on which -it ever buzzed. I cannot think of any surer way of getting publicity -than that which Cullingworth took to avoid detection. In London they -would have been perfectly unobserved. I remember that for years -Cullingworth’s hair presented curious iridescent tints which were the -remains of his disguise. - -He brought his bride safely to Edinburgh, where they hired a flat and -lived in it without furnishing it save for the absolutely needful. -I have dined with them there on an apple dumpling, seated on a pile -of thick volumes as there was no chair. We introduced them to a few -friends, did what we could for the lonely lady, and finally they -drifted off, and for a time we heard no more. - -Just before I started for Africa I got a long telegram from -Cullingworth imploring me to go to Bristol as he needed my advice. -I was in Birmingham and I set forth at once. When I reached Bristol -he conducted me to a fine mansion, and there poured out his tale of -woe. He had started in great style, hoping to rally the remains of -his father’s patients, but his money had run out, he was dunned by -his tradespeople, there were no patients, and what was he to do? We -had a joyous riotous time for two days, for there was an exuberant -atmosphere about the man which rose above all trouble. The only advice -I could give was that he should make a composition with his creditors. -I heard afterwards that he assembled them, addressed them in a long and -emotional speech, reduced them almost to tears with his picture of the -struggles of a deserving young man, and finally got a unanimous vote of -confidence from them with full consent that he should pay at his own -leisure. It was the sort of thing that he would do, and tell the story -afterwards with a bull’s roar of laughter which could be heard down the -street. - -When I had been back a couple of months from Africa, I received another -telegram--he always telegraphed and never wrote--which ran in some such -way as this: “Started here last June. Colossal success. Come down by -next train if possible. Plenty of room for you. Splendid opening.” The -telegram was stamped Plymouth. A second even more explosive telegram -upbraided me for delay and guaranteed me £300 the first year. This -looked like business, so off I went. - -The events of the next six weeks, in the late spring and early -summer of 1882, were more fitted for some rollicking novel than for -the sober pages of a veracious chronicle. The conditions which I -found at Plymouth were incredible. In a short time this man, half -genius and half quack, had founded a practice worth several thousand -pounds of ready money in the year. “Free consultations but pay for -your medicine,” was his slogan, and as he charged a good price for -the latter it worked out all the same in the end. The mere words -“Free Consultations” attracted crowds. He used drugs in a heroic -and indiscriminate manner which produced dramatic results but at -an unjustifiable risk. I remember one instance where dropsy had -disappeared before a severe dose of croton oil in a way that set all -the gossips talking. People flocked into the town from 20 and 30 miles -round, and not only his waiting rooms, but his stairs and his passages, -were crammed. His behaviour to them was extraordinary. He roared and -shouted, scolded them, joked them, pushed them about, and pursued -them sometimes into the street, or addressed them collectively from -the landing. A morning with him when the practice was in full blast -was as funny as any pantomime and I was exhausted with laughter. He -had a well-worn volume on Medical Jurisprudence which he pretended -was the Bible, and he swore old women on it that they would drink no -more tea. I have no doubt he did a great deal of good, for there was -reason and knowledge behind all that he did, but his manner of doing -it was unorthodox in the extreme. His wife made up the prescriptions -at a pigeon-hole at the end of a passage and received the price which -was marked on the label carried down by the patient. Every evening -Cullingworth walked back to his great residential house upon the Hoe, -bearing his bag of silver, his coat flying, his hat on the back of his -head, and his great fangs grinning up at every doctor whose disgusted -face showed at a window. - -Cullingworth had rigged me up a room, furnished with one table and -two chairs, in which I could take surgical or other cases which he -did not care to handle. I fear that my professional manners were very -unexciting after his more flamboyant efforts, which I could not imitate -even if I would. I had, however, a steady dribble of patients, and it -looked as if I might build something up. I went up country once, and -operated upon an old fellow’s nose which had contracted cancer through -his holding the bowl of a short clay pipe immediately beneath it. I -left him with an aristocratic, not to say supercilious organ, which was -the wonder of the village, and might have been the foundation of my -fame. - -But there were other influences at work, and the threads of fate were -shooting out at strange unexpected angles. My mother had greatly -resented my association with Cullingworth. Her family pride had been -aroused, and justly as I can now see, though my wanderings had left -me rather too Bohemian and careless upon points of etiquette. But I -liked Cullingworth and even now I can’t help liking him--and I admired -his strong qualities and enjoyed his company and the extraordinary -situations which arose from any association with him. This resistance -upon my part, and my defence of my friend, annoyed my mother the more, -and she wrote me several letters of remonstrance which certainly dealt -rather faithfully with his character as it appeared to her. I was -careless of my papers and these letters were read both by Cullingworth -and his wife. I do them no injustice in saying this, for they finally -admitted it. Apparently he imagined--he was a man of strange suspicions -and secret plottings--that I was a party to such sentiments, whereas -they were actually called forth by my defence of him. His manner -changed, and more than once I caught his fierce grey eyes looking -furtively at me with a strange sullen expression, so much so that I -asked him what was the matter. He was actually scheming my ruin, which -would be nothing financially, since I had nothing to lose, but would be -much both to my mother and me if it touched my honour. - -One day he came to me and told me that he thought my presence -complicated his practice and that we had better part. I agreed in all -good humour, assuring him that I had not come to hurt him and that I -was very grateful for what he had done, even if it came to nothing. -He then strongly advised me to go into practice myself. I replied -that I had no capital. He answered that he would see to that, that he -would allow me a pound a week until I got my feet under me, and that -I could repay it at leisure. I thanked him warmly, and after looking -at Tavistock I finally decided that Portsmouth would be a good place, -the only reason being that I knew the conditions at Plymouth, and -Portsmouth seemed analogous. I boarded an Irish steamer, therefore, -and about July of 1882 I started off by sea, with one small trunk -containing all my earthly possessions, to start practice in a town in -which I knew no single soul. My cash balance was under £10, and I knew -not only that I had to meet all present expenses upon this, but that -I had to furnish a house upon it. On the other hand the weekly pound -should easily cover all personal needs, and I had the devil-may-care -optimism of youth as to the future. - -When I arrived at Portsmouth I went into lodgings for a week. On the -very first night, with that curious faculty for running into dramatic -situations which has always been with me, I became involved in a street -fight with a rough who was beating (or rather kicking) a woman. It was -a strange start, and after I began my practice one of the first people -to whom I opened my door was this very rascal. I don’t suppose he -recognized me, but I could have sworn to him. I emerged from the fray -without much damage, and was very glad to escape some serious scandal. -It was the second time that I had got knocked about in defence of -beauty in distress. - -I spent a week in marking down the unoccupied houses, and finally -settled at £40 a year into Bush Villa, which a kindly landlord has -now called Doyle House. I was terrified lest the agent should ask -for a deposit, but the name of my C.B. uncle as reference turned -the scale in my favour. Having secured the empty house and its key, -I went down to a sale in Portsea and for about £4 secured quite a -lot of second-hand--possibly tenth-hand--furniture. It met my needs -and enabled me to make one room possible for patients with three -chairs, a table and a central patch of carpet. I had a bed of sorts -and a mattress upstairs. I fixed up the plate which I had brought -from Plymouth, bought a red lamp on tick, and fairly settled down -in receipt of custom. When all was done I had a couple of pounds in -hand. Servants, of course, were out of the question, so I polished my -own plate every morning, brushed down my front, and kept the house -reasonably clean. I found that I could live quite easily and well on -less than a shilling a day, so I could hold out for a long period. - -I had at this time contributed several stories to “London Society,” -a magazine now defunct, but then flourishing under the editorship of -a Mr. Hogg. In the April, 1882, number I had a story, now happily -forgotten, called “Bones,” while in the preceding Christmas number I -had another, “The Gully of Bluemansdyke,” both of them feeble echoes -of Bret Harte. These, with the stories already mentioned, made up my -whole output at this time. I explained to Mr. Hogg how I was situated, -and wrote for him a new tale for his Christmas number entitled “My -Friend the Murderer.” Hogg behaved very well and sent me £10, which -I laid by for my first quarter’s rent. I was not so pleased with him -when, years later, he claimed the full copyright of all these immature -stories, and published them in a volume with my name attached. Have -a care, young authors, have a care, or your worst enemy will be your -early self! - -It was as well that I had that £10, for Cullingworth, having learned -that I was fairly committed, with my lease signed, now hurled his -thunderbolt, which he thought would crush me. It was a curt letter--not -a telegram for a wonder--in which he admitted that my letters had been -read, expressed surprise that such a correspondence should have gone -on while I was under his roof, and declared that he could have nothing -more to do with me. He had, of course, no real grievance, but I am -quite willing to admit that he honestly thought he had. But his method -of revenge was a strange example of the schemings of a morbid mind. - -For a moment I was staggered. But my boats were burned and I must go -forward. I sent back a derisive reply to Cullingworth, and put him out -of my head for ever--indeed, I heard of him no more until some five -years later I read the news of his premature death. He was a remarkable -man and narrowly escaped being a great one. I fear that he lived up to -his great income and left his wife but poorly off. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -MY START AT SOUTHSEA - - A Strange Life--Arrival of my Brother--I Buy up a Shop--Cheap - Servants--Queer Patients--Dangers of Medical Practice--Income Tax - Joke--My Marriage--Tragedy in my House--A New Phase. - - -What with cleaning up, answering the bell, doing my modest shopping, -which was measured in pennies rather than shillings, and perfecting -my simple household arrangements, the time did not hang heavily upon -my hands. It is a wonderful thing to have a house of your own for the -first time, however humble it may be. I lavished all my care upon -the front room to make it possible for patients. The back room was -furnished with my trunk and a stool. Inside the trunk was my larder, -and the top of it was my dining-room table. There was gas laid on, and -I rigged a projection from the wall by which I could sling a pan over -the gas jet. In this way I cooked bacon with great ease, and became -expert in getting a wonderful lot of slices from a pound. Bread, bacon -and tea, with an occasional saveloy--what could man ask for more? It is -(or was) perfectly easy to live well upon a shilling a day. - -I had obtained a fair consignment of drugs on tick from a wholesale -house and these also were ranged round the sides of the back room. From -the very beginning a few stray patients of the poorest class, some of -them desirous of novelty, some disgruntled with their own doctors, -the greater part owing bills and ashamed to face their creditor, came -to consult me and consume a bottle of my medicine. I could pay for -my food by the drugs I sold. It was as well, for I had no other way -of paying for it, and I had sworn not to touch the ten golden pieces -which represented my rent. There have been times when I could not buy a -postage stamp and my letters have had to wait, but the ten golden coins -still remained intact. - -It was a busy thoroughfare, with a church on one side of my house and -an hotel on the other. The days passed pleasantly enough, for it was -a lovely warm autumn, and I sat in the window of my consulting-room -screened by the rather dingy curtain which I had put up, and watched -the passing crowd or read my book, for I had spent part of my -scanty funds on making myself a member of a circulating library. -In spite of my sparse food, or more probably on account of it, I -was extraordinarily fit and well, so that at night when all hope of -patients was gone for that day I would lock up my house and walk many -miles to work off my energy. With its imperial associations it is a -glorious place and even now if I had to live in a town outside London -it is surely to Southsea, the residential quarter of Portsmouth, that -I would turn. The history of the past carries on into the history of -to-day, the new torpedo-boat flies past the old _Victory_ with the same -white ensign flying from each, and the old Elizabethan culverins and -sakers can still be seen in the same walk which brings you to the huge -artillery of the forts. There is a great glamour there to any one with -the historic sense--a sense which I drank in with my mother’s milk. - -It had never entered my head yet that literature might give me a -career, or anything beyond a little casual pocket money, but already -it was a deciding factor in my life, for I could not have held on, and -must have either starved or given in but for the few pounds which Mr. -Hogg sent me, for they enabled all other smaller sums to be spent in -nourishment. I have wondered sometimes as I look back that I did not -contract scurvy, for most of my food was potted, and I had no means of -cooking vegetables. However, I felt no grievance at the time nor any -particular perception that my mode of life was unusual, nor indeed any -particular anxiety about the future. At that age everything seems an -adventure--and there was always the novel pleasure of the house. - -Once I had a moment of weakness during which I answered an -advertisement which asked for a doctor to attend coolies in the tea -gardens of the Terai. I spent a few unsettled days waiting for an -answer, but none came and I settled down once more to my waiting and -hoping. I had one avenue of success open of which I could not avail -myself. My Catholic relatives had sent me introductions to the Bishop -and I was assured that there was no Catholic doctor in the town. My -mind, however, was so perfectly clear and I had so entirely broken away -from the old faith that I could not possibly use it for material ends. -I therefore burned the letter of introduction. - -As the weeks passed and I had no one with whom to talk I began to think -wistfully of the home circle at Edinburgh, and to wonder why, with my -eight-roomed house, one or more of them should not come to keep me -company. The girls were already governessing or preparing to do so, but -there was my little brother Innes. It would relieve my mother and yet -help me if he could join me. So it was arranged, and one happy evening -the little knicker-bockered fellow, just ten years old, joined me as -my comrade. No man could have had a merrier and brighter one. In a few -weeks we had settled down to a routine life, I having found a good -day-school for him. The soldiers of Portsmouth were already a great joy -to him, and his future career was marked out by his natural tastes, for -he was a born leader and administrator. Little did I foresee that he -would win distinction in the greatest of all wars, and die in the prime -of his manhood--but not before he knew that complete victory had been -attained. Even then our thoughts were very military, and I remember how -we waited together outside the office of the local paper that we might -learn the result of the bombardment of Alexandria. - -Turning over some old papers after these pages were written I came upon -a letter written in straggling schoolboy script by my little brother -to his mother at home which may throw an independent light upon those -curious days. It is dated August 16, 1882. He says: - -“The patients are crowding in. We have made three bob this week. We -have vaxenated a baby and got hold of a man with consumtion, and to-day -a gipsy’s cart came up to the door selling baskets and chairs so we -determined not to let the man ring as long as he liked. After he had -rong two or three times Arthur yelled out at the pitch of his voice, Go -a way but the man rang again so I went down to the door and pulled open -the letter box and cried out go a way. The man began to swere at me and -say that he wanted to see Arthur. All this time Arthur thought that the -door was open and was yelling Shut that door. Then I came upstairs and -told Arthur what the man had said so Arthur went down and opened the -door and found out that the gipsy’s child had measles.... After all we -got sixpence out of them and that is all ways something.” - -I remember the incident well, and certainly my sudden change of tone -from the indignant householder, who is worried by a tramp, to my best -bedside manner in the hopes of a fee, must have been very amusing. My -recollection is, however, that it was the Gipsy who got sixpence out of -us. - -For some time Innes and I lived entirely alone, doing the household -tasks between us, and going long walks in the evening to keep ourselves -fit. Then I had a brain-wave and I put an advertisement in the evening -paper that a groundfloor was to let in exchange for services. I had -numerous applicants in reply, and out of them I chose two elderly women -who claimed to be sisters--a claim which they afterwards failed to -make good. When once they were installed we became quite a civilized -household and things began to look better. There were complex quarrels, -however, and one of the women left. The other soon afterwards followed -suit. As the first woman had seemed to me to be the most efficient, I -followed her up and found that she had started a small shop. Her rent -was weekly, so that was easily settled, but she talked gloomily about -her stock. “I will buy everything in your shop,” I said in a large way. -It cost me exactly seventeen and sixpence, and I was loaded up for many -months with matches, cakes of blacking and other merchandise. From then -onwards our meals were cooked for us, and we became in all ways normal. - -Month followed month and I picked up a patient here and a patient there -until the nucleus of a little practice had been formed. Sometimes it -was an accident, sometimes an emergency case, sometimes a newcomer -to the town or one who had quarrelled with his doctor. I mixed with -people so far as I could, for I learned that a brass plate alone will -never attract, and people must see the human being who lies in wait -behind it. Some of my tradespeople gave me their custom in return for -mine, and mine was so small that I was likely to have the best of the -bargain. There was a grocer who developed epileptic fits, which meant -butter and tea to us. Poor fellow, he could never have realized the -mixed feelings with which I received the news of a fresh outbreak. -Then there was a very tall, horse-faced old lady with an extraordinary -dignity of bearing. She would sit framed in the window of her little -house, like the picture of a _grande dame_ of the old régime. But -every now and again she went on a wild burst, in the course of which -she would skim plates out of the window at the passers-by. I was the -only one who had influence over her at such times, for she was a -haughty, autocratic old person. Once she showed an inclination to skim -a plate at me also, but I quelled her by assuming a gloomy dignity as -portentous as her own. She had some art treasures which she heaped upon -me when she was what we will politely call “ill,” but claimed back -again the moment she was well. Once when she had been particularly -troublesome I retained a fine lava jug, in spite of her protests, and I -have got it yet. - -It is well that medical practice has its humorous side, for it has much -to depress one. Most men never use their reasoning power at all on the -religious side, but if they did they would find it difficult sometimes -to reconcile the sights which a physician sees with the idea of a -merciful providence. If one loses the explanation that this life is a -spiritual chastening for another, and thinks that death ends all, and -that this is our one experience, then it is impossible to sustain the -goodness or the omnipotence of God. So I felt at the time, and it made -me a Materialist, but now I know well that I was judging a story on the -strength of one chapter. - -Let me give an example. I was called in by a poor woman to see her -daughter. As I entered the humble sitting-room there was a small cot -at one side, and by the gesture of the mother I understood that the -sufferer was there. I picked up a candle and walking over I stooped -over the little bed, expecting to see a child. What I really saw was -a pair of brown sullen eyes, full of loathing and pain, which looked -up in resentment to mine. I could not tell how old the creature was. -Long thin limbs were twisted and coiled in the tiny couch. The face was -sane but malignant. “What is it?” I asked in dismay when we were out of -hearing. “It’s a girl,” sobbed the mother. “She’s nineteen. Oh! if God -would only take her!” What a life for both! And how hard to face such -facts and accept any of the commonplace explanations of existence! - -Medical life is full of dangers and pitfalls, and luck must always play -its part in a man’s career. Many a good man has been ruined by pure -bad luck. On one occasion I was called in to a lady who was suffering -from what appeared to be dyspepsia of a rather severe type. There was -absolutely nothing to indicate anything more serious. I therefore -reassured the family, spoke lightly of the illness, and walked home to -make up a bismuth mixture for her, calling on one or two other cases on -the way. When I got home I found a messenger waiting to say that the -lady was dead. This is the sort of thing which may happen to any man -at any time. It did not hurt me, for I was too lowly to be hurt. You -can’t ruin a practice when there is no practice. The woman really had a -gastric ulcer, for which there is no diagnosis; it was eating its way -into the lining of her stomach, it pierced an artery after I saw her, -and she bled to death. Nothing could have saved her, and I think her -relatives came to understand this. - -I made £154 the first year, and £250 the second, rising slowly to £300, -which in eight years I never passed, so far as the medical practice -went. In the first year the Income Tax paper arrived and I filled it -up to show that I was not liable. They returned the paper with “Most -unsatisfactory” scrawled across it. I wrote “I entirely agree” under -the words, and returned it once more. For this little bit of cheek I -was had up before the assessors, and duly appeared with my ledger under -my arm. They could make nothing, however, out of me or my ledger, and -we parted with mutual laughter and compliments. - -In the year 1885 my brother left me to go to a public school in -Yorkshire. Shortly afterwards I was married. A lady named Mrs. Hawkins, -a widow of a Gloucestershire family, had come to Southsea with her son -and daughter, the latter a very gentle and amiable girl. I was brought -into contact with them through the illness of the son, which was of -a sudden and violent nature, arising from cerebral meningitis. As -the mother was very awkwardly situated in lodgings, I volunteered to -furnish an extra bedroom in my house and give the poor lad, who was -in the utmost danger, my personal attention. His case was a mortal -one, and in spite of all I could do he passed away a few days later. -Such a death under my own roof naturally involved me in a good deal -of anxiety and trouble--indeed, if I had not had the foresight to ask -a medical friend to see him with me on the day before he passed away, -I should have been in a difficult position. The funeral was from my -house. The family were naturally grieved at the worry to which they -had quite innocently exposed me, and so our relations became intimate -and sympathetic, which ended in the daughter consenting to share my -fortunes. We were married on August 6, 1885, and no man could have had -a more gentle and amiable life’s companion. Our union was marred by -the sad ailment which came after a very few years to cast its shadow -over our lives, but it comforts me to think that during the time when -we were together there was no single occasion when our affection was -disturbed by any serious breach or division, the credit of which lies -entirely with her own quiet philosophy, which enabled her to bear with -smiling patience not only her own sad illness, which lasted so long, -but all those other vicissitudes which life brings with it. I rejoice -to think that though she married a penniless doctor, she was spared -long enough to fully appreciate the pleasure and the material comforts -which worldly success was able to bring us. She had some small income -of her own which enabled me to expand my simple housekeeping in a way -which gave her from the first the decencies, if not the luxuries, of -life. - -In many ways my marriage marked a turning-point in my life. A bachelor, -especially one who had been a wanderer like myself, drifts easily into -Bohemian habits, and I was no exception. I cannot look back upon those -years with any spiritual satisfaction, for I was still in the valley of -darkness. I had ceased to butt my head incessantly against what seemed -to be an impenetrable wall, and I had resigned myself to ignorance -upon that which is the most momentous question in life--for a voyage -is bleak indeed if one has no conception to what port one is bound. I -had laid aside the old charts as useless, and had quite despaired of -ever finding a new one which would enable me to steer an intelligible -course, save towards that mist which was all that my pilots, Huxley, -Mill, Spencer and others, could see ahead of us. My mental attitude is -correctly portrayed in “The Stark Munro Letters.” A dim light of dawn -was to come to me soon in an uncertain fitful way which was destined in -time to spread and grow brighter. - -Up to now the main interest of my life lay in my medical career. But -with the more regular life and the greater sense of responsibility, -coupled with the natural development of brainpower, the literary -side of me began slowly to spread until it was destined to push the -other entirely aside. Thus a new phase had begun, part medical, part -literary, and part philosophical, which I shall deal with in another -chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -MY FIRST LITERARY SUCCESS - - New Outlook--James Payn--Genesis of Holmes--“A Study in - Scarlet”--“Micah Clarke”--Disappointments--Andrew Lang--Cornhill - Dinner--Oscar Wilde--His Criticism of Himself--“The White Company.” - - -During the years before my marriage I had from time to time written -short stories which were good enough to be marketable at very small -prices--£4 on an average--but not good enough to reproduce. They are -scattered about amid the pages of “London Society,” “All the Year -Round,” “Temple Bar,” “The Boy’s Own Paper,” and other journals. There -let them lie. They served their purpose in relieving me a little of -that financial burden which always pressed upon me. I can hardly have -earned more than £10 or £15 a year from this source, so that the idea -of making a living by it never occurred to me. But though I was not -putting out I was taking in. I still have note-books full of all sorts -of knowledge which I acquired during that time. It is a great mistake -to start putting out cargo when you have hardly stowed any on board. My -own slow methods and natural limitations made me escape this danger. - -After my marriage, however, my brain seems to have quickened and both -my imagination and my range of expression were greatly improved. Most -of the short stories which appeared eventually in my “Captain of the -Polestar” were written in those years from 1885 to 1890. Some of them -are perhaps as good honest work as any that I have done. What gave -me great pleasure and for the first time made me realize that I was -ceasing to be a hack writer and was getting into good company was -when James Payn accepted my short story “Habakuk Jephson’s Statement” -for “Cornhill.” I had a reverence for this splendid magazine with its -traditions from Thackeray to Stevenson and the thought that I had won -my way into it pleased me even more than the cheque for £30, which -came duly to hand. It was, of course, anonymous,--such was the law of -the magazine--which protects the author from abuse as well as prevents -his winning fame. One paper began its review by the phrase “‘Cornhill’ -opens its new number with a story which would have made Thackeray turn -in his grave.” A dear old gentleman who knew me hurried across the road -to show me the paper with these cheering words. Another, more gracious, -said “‘Cornhill’ begins the New Year with an exceedingly powerful story -in which we seem to trace the hand of the author of ‘The New Arabian -Nights’.” It was great praise, but something less warm, which came -straight to my own address, would have pleased me better. - -I soon had two other stories in the “Cornhill”--“John Huxford’s Hiatus” -and “The Ring of Thoth.” I also penetrated the stout Scottish barrier -of “Blackwood” with a story, “The Physiologist’s Wife,” which was -written when I was under the influence of Henry James. But I was still -in the days of very small things--so small that when a paper sent me -a woodcut and offered me four guineas if I would write a story to -correspond I was not too proud to accept. It was a very bad woodcut and -I think that the story corresponded all right. I remember writing a New -Zealand story, though why I should have written about a place of which -I knew nothing I cannot imagine. Some New Zealand critic pointed out -that I had given the exact bearings of the farm mentioned as 90 miles -to the east or west of the town of Nelson, and that in that case it was -situated 20 miles out on the floor of the Pacific Ocean. These little -things will happen. There are times when accuracy is necessary and -others where the idea is everything and the place quite immaterial. - -It was about a year after my marriage that I realized that I could -go on doing short stories for ever and never make headway. What is -necessary is that your name should be on the back of a volume. Only so -do you assert your individuality, and get the full credit or discredit -of your achievement. I had for some time from 1884 onwards been engaged -upon a sensational book of adventure which I had called “The Firm -of Girdlestone,” which represented my first attempt at a connected -narrative. Save for occasional patches it is a worthless book, and, -like the first book of everyone else, unless he is a great original -genius, it was too reminiscent of the work of others. I could see it -then, and could see it even more clearly later. When I sent it to -publishers and they scorned it I quite acquiesced in their decision -and finally let it settle, after its periodical flights to town, a -dishevelled mass of manuscript at the back of a drawer. - -I felt now that I was capable of something fresher and crisper and more -workmanlike. Gaboriau had rather attracted me by the neat dovetailing -of his plots, and Poe’s masterful detective, M. Dupin, had from boyhood -been one of my heroes. But could I bring an addition of my own? I -thought of my old teacher Joe Bell, of his eagle face, of his curious -ways, of his eerie trick of spotting details. If he were a detective -he would surely reduce this fascinating but unorganized business to -something nearer to an exact science. I would try if I could get this -effect. It was surely possible in real life, so why should I not make -it plausible in fiction? It is all very well to say that a man is -clever, but the reader wants to see examples of it--such examples as -Bell gave us every day in the wards. The idea amused me. What should I -call the fellow? I still possess the leaf of a notebook with various -alternative names. One rebelled against the elementary art which gives -some inkling of character in the name, and creates Mr. Sharps or Mr. -Ferrets. First it was Sherringford Holmes; then it was Sherlock Holmes. -He could not tell his own exploits, so he must have a commonplace -comrade as a foil--an educated man of action who could both join in the -exploits and narrate them. A drab, quiet name for this unostentatious -man. Watson would do. And so I had my puppets and wrote my “Study in -Scarlet.” - -I knew that the book was as good as I could make it, and I had high -hopes. When “Girdlestone” used to come circling back with the precision -of a homing pigeon, I was grieved but not surprised, for I acquiesced -in the decision. But when my little Holmes book began also to do the -circular tour I was hurt, for I knew that it deserved a better fate. -James Payn applauded but found it both too short and too long, which -was true enough. Arrowsmith received it in May, 1886, and returned it -unread in July. Two or three others sniffed and turned away. Finally, -as Ward, Lock & Co. made a specialty of cheap and often sensational -literature, I sent it to them. - - “Dear Sir,” they said,--“We have read your story and are pleased with - it. We could not publish it this year as the market is flooded at - present with cheap fiction, but if you do not object to its being held - over till next year, we will give you £25 for the copyright. - - “Yours faithfully - “WARD, LOCK & CO.” - - “_Oct. 30, 1886._” - - -It was not a very tempting offer, and even I, poor as I was, hesitated -to accept it. It was not merely the small sum offered, but it was the -long delay, for this book might open a road for me. I was heart-sick, -however, at repeated disappointments, and I felt that perhaps it was -true wisdom to make sure of publicity, however late. Therefore I -accepted, and the book became “Beeton’s Xmas Annual” of 1887. Ward Lock -made a wonderful bargain, for they not only had their Christmas number -but they brought out numerous editions of the book, and finally they -even had the valuable cinema rights for this paltry payment. I never at -any time received another penny for it from this firm, so I do not feel -that I need be grateful even if it so chanced that they cleared my path -in life. - -Having a long wait in front of me before this book could appear, -and feeling large thoughts rise within me, I now determined to test -my powers to the full, and I chose a historical novel for this end, -because it seemed to me the one way of combining a certain amount of -literary dignity with those scenes of action and adventure which were -natural to my young and ardent mind. I had always felt great sympathy -for the Puritans, who, after all, whatever their little peculiarities, -did represent political liberty and earnestness in religion. They -had usually been caricatured in fiction and art. Even Scott had not -drawn them as they were. Macaulay, who was always one of my chief -inspirations, had alone made them comprehensible--the sombre fighters, -with their Bibles and their broadswords. There is a great passage -of his--I cannot quote it verbally--in which he says that after -the Restoration if ever you saw a carter more intelligent than his -fellows, or a peasant who tilled his land better, you would be likely -to find that it was an old pikeman of Cromwell’s. This, then, was my -inspiration in “Micah Clarke,” where I fairly let myself go upon the -broad highway of adventure. I was well up in history, but I spent some -months over details and then wrote the book very rapidly. There are -bits of it, the picture of the Puritan household, and the sketch of -Judge Jeffreys, which I have never bettered. When it was finished early -in 1888 my hopes ran high and out it went on its travels. - -But, alas! although my Holmes booklet was out, and had attracted -some little favourable comment, the door still seemed to be barred. -James Payn had first peep, and he began his letter of rejection with -the sentence “How can you, can you, waste your time and your wits -writing historical novels!” This was depressing after a year of work. -Then came Bentley’s verdict: “It lacks in our opinion the one great -necessary point for fiction, i.e. interest; and this being the case -we do not think it could ever become popular with libraries and the -general public.” Then Blackwood had its say: “There are imperfections -which would militate against success. The chances of the book proving -a popular success do not seem to be strong enough to warrant us in -publishing it.” There were others even more depressing. I was on the -point of putting the worn manuscript into hospital with its mangled -brother “Girdlestone” when as a last resource, I sent it to Longmans, -whose reader, Andrew Lang, liked it and advised its acceptance. It was -to “Andrew of the brindled hair,” as Stevenson called him, that I owe -my first real opening, and I have never forgotten it. The book duly -appeared in February, 1889, and though it was not a boom book it had -extraordinarily good reviews, including one special one all to itself -by Mr. Prothero in the “Nineteenth Century,” and it has sold without -intermission from that day to this. It was the first solid corner-stone -laid for some sort of literary reputation. - -British literature had a considerable vogue in the United States -at this time for the simple reason that there was no copyright and -they had not to pay for it. It was hard on British authors, but far -harder on American ones, since they were exposed to this devastating -competition. Like all national sins it brought its own punishment not -only to American authors, who were guiltless, but to the publishers -themselves, for what belongs to everyone belongs practically to no one, -and they could not bring out a decent edition without being at once -undersold. I have seen some of my early American editions which might -have been printed on the paper that shopmen use for parcels. One good -result, however, from my point of view was that a British author, if he -had anything in him, soon won recognition in America, and afterwards, -when the Copyright Act was passed, he had his audience all ready for -him. My Holmes book had met with some American success and presently -I learned that an agent of Lippincott’s was in London and that he -wished to see me, to arrange for a book. Needless to say that I gave my -patients a rest for a day and eagerly kept the appointment. - -Once only before had I touched the edge of literary society. That -was when “Cornhill” was turned into a fully illustrated journal, an -experiment which failed for it was quickly abandoned. The change was -celebrated by a dinner at the Ship, at Greenwich, to which I was -invited on the strength of my short contributions. All the authors -and artists were there, and I remember the reverence with which I -approached James Payn, who was to me the warden of the sacred gate. I -was among the first arrivals, and was greeted by Mr. Smith, the head -of the firm, who introduced me to Payn. I loved much of his work and -waited in awe for the first weighty remark which should fall from his -lips. It was that there was a crack in the window and he wondered -how the devil it had got there. Let me add, however, that my future -experience was to show that there was no wittier or more delightful -companion in the world. I sat next to Anstey that night, who had just -made a most deserved hit with his “Vice Versa,” and I was introduced to -other celebrities, so that I came back walking on air. - -Now for the second time I was in London on literary business. -Stoddart, the American, proved to be an excellent fellow, and had two -others to dinner. They were Gill, a very entertaining Irish M.P., and -Oscar Wilde, who was already famous as the champion of æstheticism. -It was indeed a golden evening for me. Wilde to my surprise had read -“Micah Clarke” and was enthusiastic about it, so that I did not feel a -complete outsider. His conversation left an indelible impression upon -my mind. He towered above us all, and yet had the art of seeming to be -interested in all that we could say. He had delicacy of feeling and -tact, for the monologue man, however clever, can never be a gentleman -at heart. He took as well as gave, but what he gave was unique. He -had a curious precision of statement, a delicate flavour of humour, -and a trick of small gestures to illustrate his meaning, which were -peculiar to himself. The effect cannot be reproduced, but I remember -how in discussing the wars of the future he said: “A chemist on each -side will approach the frontier with a bottle”--his upraised hand and -precise face conjuring up a vivid and grotesque picture. His anecdotes, -too, were happy and curious. We were discussing the cynical maxim that -the good fortune of our friends made us discontented. “The devil,” -said Wilde, “was once crossing the Libyan Desert, and he came upon a -spot where a number of small fiends were tormenting a holy hermit. The -sainted man easily shook off their evil suggestions. The devil watched -their failure and then he stepped forward to give them a lesson. ‘What -you do is too crude,’ said he. ‘Permit me for one moment.’ With that he -whispered to the holy man, ‘Your brother has just been made Bishop of -Alexandria.’ A scowl of malignant jealousy at once clouded the serene -face of the hermit. ‘That,’ said the devil to his imps, ‘is the sort of -thing which I should recommend.’” - -The result of the evening was that both Wilde and I promised to write -books for “Lippincott’s Magazine”--Wilde’s contribution was “The -Picture of Dorian Grey,” a book which is surely upon a high moral -plane, while I wrote “The Sign of Four,” in which Holmes made his -second appearance. I should add that never in Wilde’s conversation did -I observe one trace of coarseness of thought, nor could one at that -time associate him with such an idea. Only once again did I see him, -many years afterwards, and then he gave me the impression of being -mad. He asked me, I remember, if I had seen some play of his which -was running. I answered that I had not. He said: “Ah, you must go. It -is wonderful. It is genius!” All this with the gravest face. Nothing -could have been more different from his early gentlemanly instincts. I -thought at the time, and still think, that the monstrous development -which ruined him was pathological, and that a hospital rather than a -police court was the place for its consideration. - -When his little book came out I wrote to say what I thought of it. His -letter is worth reproducing, as showing the true Wilde. I omit the -early part in which he comments on my own work in too generous terms. - -“Between me and life there is a mist of words always. I throw -probability out of the window for the sake of a phrase, and the chance -of an epigram makes me desert truth. Still I do aim at making a work -of art, and I am really delighted that you think my treatment subtle -and artistically good. The newspapers seem to me to be written by the -prurient for the Philistine. I cannot understand how they can treat -‘Dorian Grey’ as immoral. My difficulty was to keep the inherent moral -subordinate to the artistic and dramatic effect, and it still seems to -me that the moral is too obvious.” - -Encouraged by the kind reception which “Micah Clarke” had received from -the critics, I now determined upon an even bolder and more ambitious -flight. It seemed to me that the days of Edward III constituted the -greatest epoch in English History--an epoch when both the French and -the Scottish Kings were prisoners in London. This result had been -brought about mainly by the powers of a body of men who were renowned -through Europe but who had never been drawn in British literature, for -though Scott treated in his inimitable way the English archer, it was -as an outlaw rather than as a soldier that he drew him. I had some -views of my own, too, about the Middle Ages which I was anxious to -set forth. I was familiar with Froissart and Chaucer and I was aware -that the famous knights of old were by no means the athletic heroes -of Scott, but were often of a very different type. Hence came my two -books “The White Company,” written in 1889, and “Sir Nigel,” written -fourteen years later. Of the two I consider the latter the better book, -but I have no hesitation in saying that the two of them taken together -did thoroughly achieve my purpose, that they made an accurate picture -of that great age, and that as a single piece of work they form the -most complete, satisfying and ambitious thing that I have ever done. -All things find their level, but I believe that if I had never touched -Holmes, who has tended to obscure my higher work, my position in -literature would at the present moment be a more commanding one. The -work needed much research and I have still got my notebooks full of -all sorts of lore. I cultivate a simple style and avoid long words so -far as possible, and it may be that this surface of ease has sometimes -caused the reader to underrate the amount of real research which lies -in all my historical novels. It is not a matter which troubles me, -however, for I have always felt that justice is done in the end, and -that the real merit of any work is never permanently lost. - -I remember that as I wrote the last words of “The White Company” I -felt a wave of exultation and with a cry of “That’s done it!” I hurled -my inky pen across the room, where it left a black smudge upon the -duck’s-egg wall-paper. I knew in my heart that the book would live -and that it would illuminate our national traditions. Now that it has -passed through fifty editions I suppose I may say with all modesty that -my forecast has proved to be correct. This was the last book which I -wrote in my days of doctoring at Southsea, and marks an epoch in my -life, so I can now hark back to some other phases of my last years at -Bush Villa before I broke away into a new existence. I will only add -that “The White Company” was accepted by “Cornhill,” in spite of James -Payn’s opinion of historical novels, and that I fulfilled another -ambition by having a serial in that famous magazine. - -A new phase of medical experience came to me about this time, for -I suddenly found myself a unit in the British Army. The operations -in the East had drained the Medical Service, and it had therefore -been determined that local civilian doctors should be enrolled for -temporary duty of some hours a day. The terms were a guinea a day, -and a number of us were tempted to volunteer where there were only -a few vacancies. When I was called before the Board of Selection a -savage-looking old army doctor who presided barked out, “And you, -sir--what are you prepared to do?” To which I answered, “Anything.” It -seems that the others had all been making bargains and reservations, so -my wholehearted reply won the job. - -It brought me into closer contact with the savage-looking medico, who -proved to be Sir Anthony Home, V.C.--an honour which he had won in the -Indian Mutiny. He was in supreme charge, and as he was as fierce in -speech and in act as in appearance, everyone was terrified of him. On -one occasion I had told the orderly to draw a man’s tooth, knowing that -he was a very much more skilful dentist than I. I was on my way home -when I was overtaken by an excited soldier who told me that Sergeant -Jones was being court-martialled and would certainly lose his stripes -because he had done a minor operation. I hurried back and on entering -the room found Sir Anthony glaring at the unhappy man, while several -other orderlies stood round awaiting their own turn. Sir Anthony’s -glare was transferred to me when I said that whatever the Sergeant -had done was by my express order. He grunted, banged the book he was -holding, and broke up the meeting. He seemed a most disagreeable old -man, and yet when I was married shortly afterwards he sent me a most -charming message wishing me good fortune. Up to then I had never had -anything from him save a scowl from his thick eyebrows, so I was -most agreeably surprised. Soon afterwards the pressure ceased and we -civilians were all dismissed. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -PULLING UP THE ANCHOR - - Psychic Studies--Experiments in Telepathy--My First Séances--A Curious - Test--General Drayson--Opinion on Theosophy--A. P. Sinnett--W. - T. Stead--Journey to Berlin--Koch’s Treatment--Brutality of - Bergmann--Malcolm Morris--Literary Society--Political Work--Arthur - Balfour--Our Departure. - - -It was in these years after my marriage and before leaving Southsea -that I planted the first seeds of those psychic studies which were -destined to revolutionize my views and to absorb finally all the -energies of my life. I had at that time the usual contempt which the -young educated man feels towards the whole subject which has been -covered by the clumsy name of Spiritualism. I had read of mediums -being convicted of fraud, I had heard of phenomena which were opposed -to every known scientific law, and I had deplored the simplicity and -credulity which could deceive good, earnest people into believing -that such bogus happenings were signs of intelligence outside our own -existence. Educated as I had been during my most plastic years in the -school of medical materialism, and soaked in the negative views of all -my great teachers, I had no room in my brain for theories which cut -right across every fixed conclusion that I had formed. I was wrong -and my great teachers were wrong, but still I hold that they wrought -well and that their Victorian agnosticism was in the interests of the -human race, for it shook the old iron-clad unreasoning Evangelical -position which was so universal before their days. For all rebuilding -a site must be cleared. There were two separate Victorian movements -towards change, the one an attempt to improve the old building and make -it good enough to carry on--as shown in the Oxford and High Church -development, the other a knocking down of ruins which could only end -in some fresh erection springing up. As I have shown my own position -was that of a respectful materialist who entirely admitted a great -central intelligent cause, without being able to distinguish what that -cause was, or why it should work in so mysterious and terrible a way in -bringing its designs to fulfilment. - -From my point of view the mind (and so far as I could see the -soul, which was the total effect of all the hereditary or personal -functionings of the mind) was an emanation from the brain and entirely -physical in its nature. I saw, as a medical man, how a spicule of bone -or a tumour pressing on the brain would cause what seemed an alteration -in the soul. I saw also how drugs or alcohol would turn on fleeting -phases of virtue or vice. The physical argument seemed an overpowering -one. It had never struck me that the current of events might really -flow in the opposite direction, and that the higher faculties could -only manifest themselves imperfectly through an imperfect instrument. -The broken fiddle is silent and yet the musician is the same as ever. - -The first thing which steadied me and made me reconsider my position -was the question of telepathy, which was already being discussed by -William Barrett and others, even before the appearance of Myers’ -monumental work on “Human Personality”--the first book which devoted -to these psychic subjects the deep study and sustained brain power -which they demand. It may, in my opinion, take a permanent place in -human literature like the “Novum Organum” or “The Descent of Man” or -any other great root-book which has marked a date in human thought. -Having read some of the evidence I began to experiment in thought -transference, and I found a fellow-researcher in Mr. Ball, a well-known -architect in the town. Again and again, sitting behind him, I have -drawn diagrams, and he in turn has made approximately the same figure. -I showed beyond any doubt whatever that I could convey my thought -without words. - -But if I could verify such conclusions up to six feet I could not -well doubt them when they gave me the evidence that the same results -could be obtained at a distance. With an appropriate subject, and some -undefined sympathy between the two individuals, it was independent of -space. So the evidence seemed to show. I had always sworn by science -and by the need of fearless following wherever truth might lie. It -was clear now that my position had been too rigid. I had compared the -thought-excretion of the brain to the bile-excretion of the liver. -Clearly this was untenable. If thought could go a thousand miles and -produce a perceptible effect then it differed entirely not only in -degree but in kind from any purely physical material. That seemed -certain, and it must involve some modification of my old views. - -About this time (1886) the family of a General whom I attended -professionally became interested in table turning and asked me to come -and check their results. They sat round a dining-room table which -after a time, their hands being upon it, began to sway and finally got -sufficient motion to tap with one leg. They then asked questions and -received answers, more or less wise and more or less to the point. They -were got by the tedious process of reciting the alphabet and writing -down the letter which the tap indicated. It seemed to me that we were -collectively pushing the table, and that our wills were concerned in -bringing down the leg at the right moment. I was interested but very -sceptical. Some of these messages were not vague platitudes but were -definite and from dead friends of the family, which naturally impressed -them greatly, though it had not the same effect upon me, since I did -not know them. I have the old records before me as I write. “Don’t tell -the girls when you see them, but they will talk about me. Kiss my baby -for me. I watch her always. Francie.” This was the style of message, -mixed up with a good many platitudes. We held twenty or more of such -meetings, but I never received anything evidential to my own address, -and I was very critical as to the whole proceedings. - -None the less there was a problem to be solved and I went on with -its solution, reading the pros and the cons, and asking advice from -those who had experience, especially from General Drayson, a very -distinguished thinker and a pioneer of psychic knowledge, who lived -at that time at Southsea. I had known Drayson first as an astronomer, -for he had worked out a revolutionary idea by which there is a fatal -mistake in our present idea as to the circle which is described in -the heavens by the prolonged axis of the earth. It is really a wider -circle round a different centre, and this correction enables us to -explain several things now inexplicable, and to make astronomy a more -exact science, with certain very important reactions upon geology and -the recurrent glacial epochs, the exact date of which could be fixed. -His views impressed me much at the time, and several books upholding -them have appeared since his death, notably “Draysoniana” by Admiral -de Horsey. If he makes good, as I think he will, Drayson will make a -great permanent name. His opinion therefore was not negligible upon any -subject, and when he told me his views and experiences on Spiritualism -I could not fail to be impressed, though my own philosophy was far too -solid to be easily destroyed. I was too poor to employ professional -mediums, and to work on such subjects without a medium is as if one -worked at astronomy without a telescope. Once only an old man with some -reputed psychic power came for a small fee and gave us a demonstration. -He went into a loud-breathing trance to the alarm of his audience, and -then gave each of us a test. Mine was certainly a very remarkable one, -for it was “Do not read Leigh Hunt’s book.” I was hesitating at the -time whether I should read his “Comic Dramatists of the Restoration” -or not, for on the one hand it is literature and on the other the -treatment repelled me. This then was a very final and excellent test -so far as telepathy went, but I would not fully grant that it was -more. I was so impressed, however, that I wrote an account of it to -“Light,” the psychic weekly paper, and so in the year 1887 I actually -put myself on public record as a student of these matters. That was -thirty-seven years ago, as I write, so I am a very senior student now. -From that time onwards I read and thought a great deal, though it was -not until the later phase of my life that I realized whither all this -was tending. This question I will treat in a final section by itself, -so that those to whom it is of less interest can avoid it. - -I was deeply interested and attracted for a year or two by Theosophy, -because while Spiritualism seemed at that time to be chaos so far -as philosophy went, Theosophy presented a very well thought-out and -reasonable scheme, parts of which, notably reincarnation and Karma, -seemed to offer an explanation for some of the anomalies of life. -I read Sinnett’s “Occult World” and afterwards with even greater -admiration I read his fine exposition of Theosophy in “Esoteric -Buddhism,” a most notable book. I also met him, for he was an old -friend of General Drayson’s, and I was impressed by his conversation. -Shortly afterwards, however, there appeared Dr. Hodgson’s report -upon his investigation into Madame Blavatsky’s proceedings at Adyar, -which shook my confidence very much. It is true that Mrs. Besant has -since then published a powerful defence which tends to show that -Hodgson may have been deceived, but the subsequent book “A Priestess -of Isis” which contains many of her own letters leaves an unpleasant -impression, and Sinnett’s posthumous work seems to show that he also -had lost confidence. On the other hand Colonel Olcott shows that the -woman undoubtedly had real psychic powers, whatever their source. As -to Spiritualism it seems to have only interested her in its lower -phenomenal aspect. Her books show extraordinary erudition and capacity -for hard work, even if they represent the transfer of other people’s -conclusions, as they frequently do. It would be unjust, however, -to condemn the old wisdom simply because it was introduced by this -extraordinary and volcanic person. We have also had in our branch of -the occult many dishonest mediums, but we have hastened to unveil them -where we could do so, and Theosophy will be in a stronger position when -it shakes off Madame Blavatsky altogether. In any case it could never -have met my needs for I ask for severe proof, and if I have to go back -to unquestioning faith I should find myself in the fold from which I -wandered. - -My life had been a pleasant one with my steadily-increasing literary -success, my practice, which was enough to keep me pleasantly occupied, -and my sport, which I treat in a later chapter. Suddenly, however, -there came a development which shook me out of my rut, and caused an -absolute change in my life and plans. One daughter, Mary, had been born -to us, our household was a happy one, and as I have never had personal -ambitions, since the simple things of life have always been the most -pleasant to me, it is possible that I should have remained in Southsea -permanently but for this new episode in my life. It arose when in 1890 -Koch announced that he had discovered a sure cure for consumption and -that he would demonstrate it upon a certain date in Berlin. - -A great urge came upon me suddenly that I should go to Berlin and -see him do so. I could give no clear reason for this but it was an -irresistible impulse and I at once determined to go. Had I been a -well-known doctor or a specialist in consumption it would have been -more intelligible, but I had, as a matter of fact, no great interest -in the more recent developments of my own profession, and a very -strong belief that much of the so-called progress was illusory. -However, at a few hours’ notice I packed up a bag and started off -alone upon this curious adventure. I had had an interchange of letters -with Mr. W. T. Stead over some matter and I called upon him at the -“Review of Reviews” office as I passed through London to ask him if -he could give me an introduction to Koch or to Dr. Bergmann, who was -to give the demonstration. Mr. Stead was very amiable to this big -unknown provincial doctor, and he gave me a letter for the British -Ambassador--Sir Edward Malet, if I remember right--and for Mr. Lowe, -“The Times” correspondent. He also asked me to do a character sketch -of Koch for him, adding that he would have Count Mattei as a feature -of his magazine this month and Koch the next. I said, “Then you will -have the greatest man of science and the greatest quack in Europe -following each other.” Stead glared at me angrily, for it seems that -the Mattei treatment with its blue electricity and the rest of it was -at that moment his particular fad. However, we parted amiably and all -through his life we kept in distant touch, though we came into sharp -collision at the time of the Boer war. He was a brave and honest man, -and if he was impulsive at times it was only the sudden outflame of -that fire which made him the great force for good that he was. In -psychic knowledge he was a generation before his time, though his mode -of expressing it may sometimes have been injudicious. - -I went on to Berlin that night and found myself in the Continental -express with a very handsome and courteous London physician bound upon -the same errand as myself. We passed most of the night talking and I -learned that his name was Malcolm Morris and that he also had been -a provincial doctor, but that he had come to London and had made a -considerable hit as a skin specialist in Harley Street. It was the -beginning of a friendship which endured. - -Having arrived at Berlin the great thing was to be present at -Bergmann’s demonstration, which was to be next day at twelve. I went -to our Ambassador, was kept long waiting, had a chilly reception and -was dismissed without help or consolation. Then I tried “The Times” -correspondent, but he could not help me either. He and his amiable wife -showed me every courtesy and invited me to dinner that night. Tickets -were simply not to be had and neither money nor interest could procure -them. I conceived the wild idea of getting one from Koch himself and -made my way to his house. While there I had the curious experience of -seeing his mail arrive--a large sack full of letters, which was emptied -out on the floor of the hall, and exhibited every sort of stamp in -Europe. It was a sign of all the sad broken lives and wearied hearts -which were turning in hope to Berlin. Koch remained a veiled prophet, -however, and would see neither me nor any one else. I was fairly at my -wit’s ends and could not imagine how I could attain my end. - -Next day I went down to the great building where the address was to be -given and managed by bribing the porter to get into the outer Hall. -The huge audience was assembling in a room beyond. I tried further -bribing that I might be slipped in, but the official became abusive. -People streamed past me, but I was always the waiter at the gate. -Finally every one had gone in and then a group of men came bustling -across, Bergmann, bearded and formidable, in the van, with a tail of -house surgeons and satellites behind him. I threw myself across his -path. “I have come a thousand miles,” said I. “May I not come in?” He -halted and glared at me through his spectacles. “Perhaps you would like -to take my place,” he roared, working himself up into that strange -folly of excitement which seems so strange in the heavy German nature. -“That is the only place left. Yes, yes, take my place by all means. My -classes are filled with Englishmen already.” He fairly spat out the -word “Englishmen” and I learned afterwards that some recent quarrel -with Morel MacKenzie over the illness of the Emperor Frederick had -greatly incensed him. I am glad to say that I kept my temper and my -polite manner, which is always the best shield when one is met by -brutal rudeness. “Not at all,” I said. “I would not intrude, if there -was really no room.” He glared at me again, all beard and spectacles, -and rushed on with his court all grinning at the snub which the -presumptuous Englishman had received. One of them lingered, however--a -kindly American. “That was bad behaviour,” said he. “See here! If you -meet me at four this afternoon I will show you my full notes of the -lecture, and I know the cases he is about to show, so we can see them -together to-morrow.” Then he followed on. - -So it came about that I attained my end after all, but in a roundabout -way. I studied the lecture and the cases, and I had the temerity to -disagree with every one and to come to the conclusion that the whole -thing was experimental and premature. A wave of madness had seized the -world and from all parts, notably from England, poor afflicted people -were rushing to Berlin for a cure, some of them in such advanced stages -of disease that they died in the train. I felt so sure of my ground and -so strongly about it that I wrote a letter of warning to “The Daily -Telegraph,” and I rather think that this letter was the very first -which appeared upon the side of doubt and caution. I need not say that -the event proved the truth of my forecast. - -Two days later I was back in Southsea, but I came back a changed man. -I had spread my wings and had felt something of the powers within me. -Especially I had been influenced by a long talk with Malcolm Morris, in -which he assured me that I was wasting my life in the provinces and had -too small a field for my activities. He insisted that I should leave -general practice and go to London. I answered that I was by no means -sure of my literary success as yet, and that I could not so easily -abandon the medical career which had cost my mother such sacrifices and -myself so many years of study. He asked me if there was any special -branch of the profession on which I could concentrate so as to get away -from general practice. I said that of late years I had been interested -in eye work and had amused myself by correcting refractions and -ordering glasses in the Portsmouth Eye Hospital under Mr. Vernon Ford. -“Well,” said Morris, “why not specialize upon the eye? Go to Vienna, -put in six months’ work, come back and start in London. Thus you will -have a nice clean life with plenty of leisure for your literature.” I -came home with this great suggestion buzzing in my head and as my wife -was quite willing and Mary, my little girl, was old enough now to be -left with her grandmother, there seemed to be no obstacle in the way. -There were no difficulties about disposing of the practice, for it was -so small and so purely personal that it could not be sold to another -and simply had to dissolve. - -The Portsmouth Literary and Scientific Society gave me a God-speed -banquet. I have many pleasant and some comic reminiscences of this -Society, of which I had been secretary for several years. We kept -the sacred flame burning in the old city with our weekly papers and -discussions during the long winters. It was there I learned to face -an audience, which proved to be of the first importance for my life’s -work. I was naturally of a very nervous, backward, self-distrustful -disposition in such things and I have been told that the signal that -I was about to join in the discussion was that the whole long bench -on which I sat, with every one on it, used to shake with my emotion. -But once up I learned to speak out, to conceal my trepidations, and to -choose my phrases. I gave three papers, one on the Arctic seas, one -on Carlyle and one on Gibbon. The former gave me a quite unmerited -reputation as a sportsman, for I borrowed from a local taxidermist -every bird and beast that he possessed which could conceivably find -its way into the Arctic Circle. These I piled upon the lecture table, -and the audience, concluding that I had shot them all, looked upon me -with great respect. Next morning they were back with the taxidermist -once more. We had some weird people and incidents at these debates. -I remember one very learned discussion on fossils and the age of -the strata, which was ended by a cadaverous major-general of the -Evangelical persuasion who rose and said in a hollow voice that all -this speculation was vain, and indeed incomprehensible, since we knew -on an authority which could not possibly be questioned that the world -was made exactly five thousand eight hundred and ninety years ago. This -put the lid on the debate and we all crept home to bed. - -My political work also caused me to learn to speak. I was what was -called a Liberal-Unionist, that is, a man whose general position was -Liberal, but who could not see his way to support Gladstone’s Irish -Policy. Perhaps we were wrong. However, that was my view at the time. I -had a dreadful first experience of platform speaking on a large scale, -for at a huge meeting at the Amphitheatre the candidate, Sir William -Crossman, was delayed, and to prevent a fiasco I was pushed on at a -moment’s notice to face an audience of 3,000 people. It was one of the -tight corners of my life. I hardly knew myself what I said, but the -Irish part of me came to my aid and supplied me with a torrent of more -or less incoherent words and similes which roused the audience greatly, -though it read to me afterwards more like a comic stump speech than a -serious political effort. But it was what they wanted and they were -mostly on their feet before I finished. I was amazed when I read it -next day, and especially the last crowning sentence which was: “England -and Ireland are wedded together with the sapphire wedding ring of the -sea, and what God has placed together let no man pluck asunder.” It was -not very good logic but whether it was eloquence or rodomontade I could -not even now determine. - -I was acting Secretary when Mr. Balfour came down to address a great -meeting and, as such, when the Hall was full, I waited on the curb -outside to receive him. Presently his carriage drove up and out he -stepped, tall, thin and aristocratic. There were two notorious artisans -of the other side waiting for him and I warned them not to make -trouble. However, the moment Balfour appeared one of them opened a -huge mouth with the intention of emitting a howl of execration. But it -never got out, for I clapped my hand pretty forcibly over the orifice -while I held him by the neck with the other hand. His companion hit me -on the head with a stick, and was promptly knocked down by one of my -companions. Meanwhile Balfour got safely in, and we two secretaries -followed, rather dishevelled after our adventure. I met Lord Balfour -several times in after life but I never told him how I once had my hat -smashed in his defence. - -What with the Literary Society and the politicians I left a gap behind -me in Portsmouth and so did my wife, who was universally popular for -her amiable and generous character. It was a wrench to us to leave so -many good friends. However, towards the end of 1890 the die was cast, -and we closed the door of Bush Villa behind us for the last time. I had -days of privation there, and days of growing success during the eight -long years that I had spent in Portsmouth. Now it was with a sense of -wonderful freedom and exhilarating adventure that we set forth upon the -next phase of our lives. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE GREAT BREAK - - Vienna--A Specialist in Wimpole Street--The Great - Decision--Norwood--“The Refugees”--Reported Death of Holmes. - - -We set forth upon a bitter winter day at the close of 1890 with every -chance of being snowed up on our long trek. We got through all right, -however, and found ourselves in Vienna, arriving on a deadly cold -night, with deep snow under foot and a cutting blizzard in the air. As -we looked from the station the electric lights threw out the shining -silver drift of snow flakes against the absolute darkness of the sky. -It was a gloomy, ominous reception, but half an hour afterwards when we -were in the warm cosy crowded tobacco-laden restaurant attached to our -hotel we took a more cheerful view of our surroundings. - -We found a modest _pension_ which was within our means, and we put in -a very pleasant four months, during which I attended eye lectures at -the Krankenhaus, but could certainly have learned far more in London, -for even if one has a fair knowledge of conversational German it is -very different from following accurately a rapid lecture filled with -technical terms. No doubt “has studied in Vienna” sounds well in a -specialist’s record, but it is usually taken for granted that he has -exhausted his own country before going abroad, which was by no means -the case with me. Therefore, so far as eye work goes, my winter was -wasted, nor can I trace any particular spiritual or intellectual -advance. On the other hand I saw a little of gay Viennese society. I -received kind and welcome hospitality from Brinsley Richards, “The -Times” correspondent, and his wife, and I had some excellent skating. -I also wrote one short book, “The Doings of Raffles Haw,” not a -very notable achievement, by which I was able to pay my current -expenses without encroaching on the very few hundred pounds which were -absolutely all that I had in the world. This money was invested on the -advice of a friend, and as it was almost all lost--like so much more -that I have earned--it is just as well that I was never driven back -upon it. - -With the spring my work at Vienna had finished, if it can be said to -have ever begun, and we returned via Paris, putting in a few days there -with Landolt, who was the most famous French oculist of his time. It -was great to find ourselves back in London once more with the feeling -that we were now on the real field of battle, where we must conquer or -perish, for our boats were burned behind us. It is easy now to look -back and think that the issue was clear, but it was by no means so at -the time, for I had earned little, though my reputation was growing. It -was only my own inward conviction of the permanent merits of “The White -Company,” still appearing month by month in “Cornhill,” which sustained -my confidence. I had come through so much in the early days at Southsea -that nothing could alarm me personally, but I had a wife and child now, -and the stern simplicity of life which was possible and even pleasant -in early days was now no longer to be thought of. - -We took rooms in Montague Place, and I went forth to search for some -place where I could put up my plate as an oculist. I was aware that -many of the big men do not find time to work out refractions, which -in some cases of astigmatism take a long time to adjust when done by -retinoscopy. I was capable in this work and liked it, so I hoped that -some of it might drift my way. But to get it, it was clearly necessary -that I should live among the big men so that the patient could be -easily referred to me. I searched the doctors’ quarters and at last -found suitable accommodation at 2 Devonshire Place, which is at the top -of Wimpole Street and close to the classical Harley Street. There for -£120 a year I got the use of a front room with part use of a waiting -room. I was soon to find that they were both waiting rooms, and now I -know that it was better so. - -Every morning I walked from the lodgings at Montague Place, reached my -consulting room at ten and sat there until three or four, with never -a ring to disturb my serenity. Could better conditions for reflection -and work be found? It was ideal, and so long as I was thoroughly -unsuccessful in my professional venture there was every chance of -improvement in my literary prospects. Therefore when I returned to the -lodgings at tea-time I bore my little sheaves with me, the first fruits -of a considerable harvest. - -A number of monthly magazines were coming out at that time, notable -among which was “The Strand,” then as now under the editorship of -Greenhough Smith. Considering these various journals with their -disconnected stories it had struck me that a single character running -through a series, if it only engaged the attention of the reader, would -bind that reader to that particular magazine. On the other hand, it -had long seemed to me that the ordinary serial might be an impediment -rather than a help to a magazine, since, sooner or later, one missed -one number and afterwards it had lost all interest. Clearly the ideal -compromise was a character which carried through, and yet instalments -which were each complete in themselves, so that the purchaser was -always sure that he could relish the whole contents of the magazine. I -believe that I was the first to realize this and “The Strand Magazine” -the first to put it into practice. - -Looking round for my central character I felt that Sherlock Holmes, -whom I had already handled in two little books, would easily lend -himself to a succession of short stories. These I began in the long -hours of waiting in my consulting room. Greenhough Smith liked them -from the first, and encouraged me to go ahead with them. My literary -affairs had been taken up by that king of agents, A. P. Watt, who -relieved me of all the hateful bargaining, and handled things so well -that any immediate anxiety for money soon disappeared. It was as well, -for not one single patient had ever crossed the threshold of my room. - -I was now once more at a crossroads of my life, and Providence, which -I recognize at every step, made me realize it in a very energetic and -unpleasant way. I was starting off for my usual trudge one morning -from our lodgings when icy shivers passed over me, and I only got -back in time to avoid a total collapse. It was a virulent attack of -influenza, at a time when influenza was in its deadly prime. Only three -years before my dear sister Annette, after spending her whole life on -the family needs, had died of it at Lisbon at the very moment when my -success would have enabled me to recall her from her long servitude. -Now it was my turn, and I very nearly followed her. I can remember -no pain or extreme discomfort, and no psychic experiences, but for a -week I was in great danger, and then found myself as weak as a child -and as emotional, but with a mind as clear as crystal. It was then, -as I surveyed my own life, that I saw how foolish I was to waste my -literary earnings in keeping up an oculist’s room in Wimpole Street, -and I determined with a wild rush of joy to cut the painter and to -trust for ever to my power of writing. I remember in my delight taking -the handkerchief which lay upon the coverlet in my enfeebled hand, and -tossing it up to the ceiling in my exultation. I should at last be my -own master. No longer would I have to conform to professional dress or -try to please any one else. I would be free to live how I liked and -where I liked. It was one of the great moments of exultation of my -life. The date was in August, 1891. - -Presently I was about, hobbling on a stick and reflecting that if I -lived to be eighty I knew already exactly how it would feel. I haunted -house-agents, got lists of suburban villas, and spent some weeks, as -my strength returned, in searching for a new home. Finally I found a -suitable house, modest but comfortable, isolated and yet one of a row. -It was 12 Tennison Road, South Norwood. There we settled down, and -there I made my first effort to live entirely by my pen. It soon became -evident that I had been playing the game well within my powers and that -I should have no difficulty in providing a sufficient income. It seemed -as if I had settled into a life which might be continuous, and I little -foresaw that an unexpected blow was about to fall upon us, and that we -were not at the end, but really at the beginning, of our wanderings. - -I could not know this, however, and I settled down with a stout -heart to do some literary work worthy of the name. The difficulty of -the Holmes work was that every story really needed as clear-cut and -original a plot as a longish book would do. One cannot without effort -spin plots at such a rate. They are apt to become thin or to break. -I was determined, now that I had no longer the excuse of absolute -pecuniary pressure, never again to write anything which was not as good -as I could possibly make it, and therefore I would not write a Holmes -story without a worthy plot and without a problem which interested my -own mind, for that is the first requisite before you can interest any -one else. If I have been able to sustain this character for a long -time and if the public find, as they will find, that the last story is -as good as the first, it is entirely due to the fact that I never, or -hardly ever, forced a story. Some have thought there was a falling off -in the stories, and the criticism was neatly expressed by a Cornish -boatman who said to me, “I think, sir, when Holmes fell over that -cliff, he may not have killed himself, but all the same he was never -quite the same man afterwards.” I think, however, that if the reader -began the series backwards, so that he brought a fresh mind to the last -stories, he would agree with me that, though the general average may -not be conspicuously high, still the last one is as good as the first. - -I was weary, however, of inventing plots and I set myself now to do -some work which would certainly be less remunerative but would be more -ambitious from a literary point of view. I had long been attracted -by the epoch of Louis XIV and by those Huguenots who were the French -equivalents of our Puritans. I had a good knowledge of the memoirs -of that date, and many notes already prepared, so that it did not -take me long to write “The Refugees.” It has stood the acid test of -time very well, so I may say that it was a success. Soon after its -appearance it was translated into French, and my mother, herself a -great French scholar, had the joy when she visited Fontainebleau to -hear the official guide tell the drove of tourists that if they really -wanted to know about the Court of the great monarch, they would find -the clearest and most accurate account in an Englishman’s book, “The -Refugees.” I expect the guide would have been considerably astonished -had he then and there been kissed by an elderly English lady, but it -was an experience which he must have narrowly missed. I used in this -book, also, a great deal which was drawn from Parkman, that great but -neglected historian, who was in my opinion the greatest serious writer -that America has produced. - -There was an amusing episode connected with “The Refugees,” when it was -read aloud in some strict Irish convent, the innocent Reverend Mother -having mistaken my name and imagined that I was a canon, and therefore -of course a holy man. I am told that the reading was a tremendous -success and that the good sisters rejoiced that the mistake was not -found out until the story was completed. My first name has several -times led to mistakes, as when, at a big dinner at Chicago, I was asked -to say Grace, as being the only ecclesiastic present. I remember that -at the same dinner one of the speakers remarked that it was a most -sinister fact that though I was a doctor no _living_ patient of mine -had ever yet been seen. - -During this Norwood interval, I was certainly working hard, for besides -“The Refugees” I wrote “The Great Shadow,” a booklet which I should put -near the front of my work for merit, and two other little books on a -very inferior plane--“The Parasite” and “Beyond the City.” The latter -was of a domestic type unusual for me. It was pirated in New York just -before the new Copyright Act came into force, and the rascal publisher -thinking that a portrait--any sort of portrait--of the author would -look well upon the cover, and being quite ignorant of my identity, put -a very pretty and over-dressed young woman as my presentment. I still -preserve a copy of this most flattering representation. All these books -had some decent success, though none of it was remarkable. It was still -the Sherlock Holmes stories for which the public clamoured, and these -from time to time I endeavoured to supply. At last, after I had done -two series of them I saw that I was in danger of having my hand forced, -and of being entirely identified with what I regarded as a lower -stratum of literary achievement. Therefore as a sign of my resolution -I determined to end the life of my hero. The idea was in my mind when -I went with my wife for a short holiday in Switzerland, in the course -of which we saw there the wonderful falls of Reichenbach, a terrible -place, and one that I thought would make a worthy tomb for poor -Sherlock, even if I buried my banking account along with him. So there -I laid him, fully determined that he should stay there--as indeed for -some years he did. I was amazed at the concern expressed by the public. -They say that a man is never properly appreciated until he is dead, -and the general protest against my summary execution of Holmes taught -me how many and how numerous were his friends. “You Brute” was the -beginning of the letter of remonstrance which one lady sent me, and I -expect she spoke for others besides herself. I heard of many who wept. -I fear I was utterly callous myself, and only glad to have a chance of -opening out into new fields of imagination, for the temptation of high -prices made it difficult to get one’s thoughts away from Holmes. - -That Sherlock Holmes was anything but mythical to many is shown by the -fact that I have had many letters addressed to him with requests that I -forward them. Watson has also had a number of letters in which he has -been asked for the address or for the autograph of his more brilliant -confrère. A press-cutting agency wrote to Watson asking whether Holmes -would not wish to subscribe. When Holmes retired several elderly -ladies were ready to keep house for him and one sought to ingratiate -herself by assuring me that she knew all about bee-keeping and could -“segregate the queen.” I had considerable offers also for Holmes if he -would examine and solve various family mysteries. Once the offer--from -Poland--was that I should myself go, and my reward was practically -left to my own judgment. I had judgment enough, however, to avoid it -altogether. - -I have often been asked whether I had myself the qualities which I -depicted, or whether I was merely the Watson that I look. Of course I -am well aware that it is one thing to grapple with a practical problem -and quite another thing when you are allowed to solve it under your -own conditions. I have no delusions about that. At the same time a man -cannot spin a character out of his own inner consciousness and make it -really life-like unless he has some possibilities of that character -within him--which is a dangerous admission for one who has drawn -so many villains as I. In my poem “The Inner Room,” describing our -multiplex personality, I say: - - “There are others who are sitting, - Grim as doom, - In the dim ill-boding shadow - Of my room. - Darkling figures, stern or quaint, - Now a savage, now a saint, - Showing fitfully and faint - In the gloom.” - -Among those figures there may perhaps be an astute detective also, but -I find that in real life in order to find him I have to inhibit all the -others and get into a mood when there is no one in the room but he. -Then I get results and have several times solved problems by Holmes’ -methods after the police have been baffled. Yet I must admit that in -ordinary life I am by no means observant and that I have to throw -myself into an artificial frame of mind before I can weigh evidence and -anticipate the sequence of events. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -SIDELIGHTS ON SHERLOCK HOLMES - - “The Speckled Band”--Barrie’s Parody on Holmes--Holmes on the - Films--Methods of Construction--Problems--Curious Letters--Some - Personal Cases--Strange Happenings. - - -I may as well interrupt my narrative here in order to say what may -interest my readers about my most notorious character. - -The impression that Holmes was a real person of flesh and blood may -have been intensified by his frequent appearance upon the stage. After -the withdrawal of my dramatization of “Rodney Stone” from a theatre -upon which I held a six months’ lease, I determined to play a bold and -energetic game, for an empty theatre spells ruin. When I saw the course -that things were taking I shut myself up and devoted my whole mind to -making a sensational Sherlock Holmes drama. I wrote it in a week and -called it “The Speckled Band” after the short story of that name. I do -not think that I exaggerate if I say that within a fortnight of the -one play shutting down I had a company working upon the rehearsals -of a second one, which had been written in the interval. It was a -considerable success. Lyn Harding, as the half epileptic and wholly -formidable Doctor Grimesby Rylott, was most masterful, while Saintsbury -as Sherlock Holmes was also very good. Before the end of the run I -had cleared off all that I had lost upon the other play, and I had -created a permanent property of some value. It became a stock piece and -is even now touring the country. We had a fine rock boa to play the -title-rôle, a snake which was the pride of my heart, so one can imagine -my disgust when I saw that one critic ended his disparaging review by -the words “The crisis of the play was produced by the appearance of -a palpably artificial serpent.” I was inclined to offer him a goodly -sum if he would undertake to go to bed with it. We had several snakes -at different times, but they were none of them born actors and they -were all inclined either to hang down from the hole in the wall like -inanimate bell-pulls, or else to turn back through the hole and get -even with the stage carpenter who pinched their tails in order to make -them more lively. Finally we used artificial snakes, and every one, -including the stage carpenter, agreed that it was more satisfactory. - -This was the second Sherlock Holmes play. I should have spoken about -the first, which was produced very much earlier, in fact at the time of -the African war. It was written and most wonderfully acted by William -Gillette, the famous American. Since he used my characters and to some -extent my plots, he naturally gave me a share in the undertaking, which -proved to be very successful. “May I marry Holmes?” was one cable which -I received from him when in the throes of composition. “You may marry -or murder or do what you like with him,” was my heartless reply. I was -charmed both with the play, the acting and the pecuniary result. I -think that every man with a drop of artistic blood in his veins would -agree that the latter consideration, though very welcome when it does -arrive, is still the last of which he thinks. - -Sir James Barrie paid his respects to Sherlock Holmes in a rollicking -parody. It was really a gay gesture of resignation over the failure -which we had encountered with a comic opera for which he undertook to -write the libretto. I collaborated with him on this, but in spite of -our joint efforts, the piece fell flat. Whereupon Barrie sent me a -parody on Holmes, written on the fly leaves of one of his books. It ran -thus:-- - - - THE ADVENTURE OF THE TWO COLLABORATORS - - In bringing to a close the adventures of my friend Sherlock Holmes I - am perforce reminded that he never, save on the occasion which, as you - will now hear, brought his singular career to an end, consented to act - in any mystery which was concerned with persons who made a livelihood - by their pen. “I am not particular about the people I mix among for - business purposes,” he would say, “but at literary characters I draw - the line.” - - We were in our rooms in Baker Street one evening. I was (I remember) - by the centre table writing out “The Adventure of the Man without a - Cork Leg” (which had so puzzled the Royal Society and all the other - scientific bodies of Europe), and Holmes was amusing himself with - a little revolver practice. It was his custom of a summer evening - to fire round my head, just shaving my face, until he had made a - photograph of me on the opposite wall, and it is a slight proof of - his skill that many of these portraits in pistol shots are considered - admirable likenesses. - - I happened to look out of the window, and perceiving two gentlemen - advancing rapidly along Baker Street asked him who they were. He - immediately lit his pipe, and, twisting himself on a chair into the - figure 8, replied: - - “They are two collaborators in comic opera, and their play has not - been a triumph.” - - I sprang from my chair to the ceiling in amazement, and he then - explained: - - “My dear Watson, they are obviously men who follow some low calling. - That much even you should be able to read in their faces. Those little - pieces of blue paper which they fling angrily from them are Durrant’s - Press Notices. Of these they have obviously hundreds about their - person (see how their pockets bulge). They would not dance on them if - they were pleasant reading.” - - I again sprang to the ceiling (which is much dented), and shouted: - “Amazing! but they may be mere authors.” - - “No,” said Holmes, “for mere authors only get one press notice a week. - Only criminals, dramatists and actors get them by the hundred.” - - “Then they may be actors.” - - “No, actors would come in a carriage.” - - “Can you tell me anything else about them?” - - “A great deal. From the mud on the boots of the tall one I perceive - that he comes from South Norwood. The other is as obviously a Scotch - author.” - - “How can you tell that?” - - “He is carrying in his pocket a book called (I clearly see) ‘Auld - Licht Something.’ Would any one but the author be likely to carry - about a book with such a title?” - - I had to confess that this was improbable. - - It was now evident that the two men (if such they can be called) were - seeking our lodgings. I have said (often) that my friend Holmes seldom - gave way to emotion of any kind, but he now turned livid with passion. - Presently this gave place to a strange look of triumph. - - “Watson,” he said, “that big fellow has for years taken the credit for - my most remarkable doings, but at last I have him--at last!” - - Up I went to the ceiling, and when I returned the strangers were in - the room. - - “I perceive, gentlemen,” said Mr. Sherlock Holmes, “that you are at - present afflicted by an extraordinary novelty.” - - The handsomer of our visitors asked in amazement how he knew this, but - the big one only scowled. - - “You forget that you wear a ring on your fourth finger,” replied Mr. - Holmes calmly. - - I was about to jump to the ceiling when the big brute interposed. - - “That Tommy-rot is all very well for the public, Holmes,” said he, - “but you can drop it before me. And, Watson, if you go up to the - ceiling again I shall make you stay there.” - - Here I observed a curious phenomenon. My friend Sherlock Holmes - _shrank_. He became small before my eyes. I looked longingly at the - ceiling, but dared not. - - “Let us cut the first four pages,” said the big man, “and proceed to - business. I want to know why----” - - “Allow me,” said Mr. Holmes, with some of his old courage. “You want - to know why the public does not go to your opera.” - - “Exactly,” said the other ironically, “as you perceive by my shirt - stud.” He added more gravely, “And as you can only find out in one way - I must insist on your witnessing an entire performance of the piece.” - - It was an anxious moment for me. I shuddered, for I knew that if - Holmes went I should have to go with him. But my friend had a heart - of gold. “Never,” he cried fiercely, “I will do anything for you save - that.” - - “Your continued existence depends on it,” said the big man menacingly. - - “I would rather melt into air,” replied Holmes, proudly taking another - chair. “But I can tell you why the public don’t go to your piece - without sitting the thing out myself.” - - “Why?” - - “Because,” replied Holmes calmly, “they prefer to stay away.” - - A dead silence followed that extraordinary remark. For a moment the - two intruders gazed with awe upon the man who had unravelled their - mystery so wonderfully. Then drawing their knives---- - - Holmes grew less and less, until nothing was left save a ring of smoke - which slowly circled to the ceiling. - - The last words of great men are often noteworthy. These were the last - words of Sherlock Holmes: “Fool, fool! I have kept you in luxury for - years. By my help you have ridden extensively in cabs, where no author - was ever seen before. _Henceforth you will ride in buses!_” - - The brute sunk into a chair aghast. - - The other author did not turn a hair. - - _To A. Conan Doyle, - from his friend - J. M. Barrie._ - - -This parody, the best of all the numerous parodies, may be taken as an -example not only of the author’s wit but of his debonnaire courage, -for it was written immediately after our joint failure which at the -moment was a bitter thought for both of us. There is indeed nothing -more miserable than a theatrical failure, for you feel how many others -who have backed you have been affected by it. It was, I am glad to say, -my only experience of it, and I have no doubt that Barrie could say the -same. - -Before I leave the subject of the many impersonations of Holmes I may -say that all of them, and all the drawings, are very unlike my own -original idea of the man. I saw him as very tall--“over 6 feet, but so -excessively lean that he seemed considerably taller,” said “A Study -in Scarlet.” He had, as I imagined him, a thin razor-like face, with -a great hawks-bill of a nose, and two small eyes, set close together -on either side of it. Such was my conception. It chanced, however, -that poor Sidney Paget who, before his premature death, drew all the -original pictures, had a younger brother whose name, I think, was -Walter, who served him as a model. The handsome Walter took the place -of the more powerful but uglier Sherlock, and perhaps from the point of -view of my lady readers it was as well. The stage has followed the type -set up by the pictures. - -Films of course were unknown when the stories appeared, and when these -rights were finally discussed and a small sum offered for them by a -French Company it seemed treasure trove and I was very glad to accept. -Afterwards I had to buy them back again at exactly ten times what I had -received, so the deal was a disastrous one. But now they have been done -by the Stoll Company with Eille Norwood as Holmes, and it was worth -all the expense to get so fine a production. Norwood has since played -the part on the stage and won the approbation of the London public. He -has that rare quality which can only be described as glamour, which -compels you to watch an actor eagerly even when he is doing nothing. He -has the brooding eye which excites expectation and he has also a quite -unrivalled power of disguise. My only criticism of the films is that -they introduce telephones, motor cars and other luxuries of which the -Victorian Holmes never dreamed. - -People have often asked me whether I knew the end of a Holmes story -before I started it. Of course I do. One could not possibly steer -a course if one did not know one’s destination. The first thing is -to get your idea. Having got that key idea one’s next task is to -conceal it and lay emphasis upon everything which can make for a -different explanation. Holmes, however, can see all the fallacies of -the alternatives, and arrives more or less dramatically at the true -solution by steps which he can describe and justify. He shows his -powers by what the South Americans now call “Sherlockholmitos,” which -means clever little deductions which often have nothing to do with -the matter in hand, but impress the reader with a general sense of -power. The same effect is gained by his offhand allusion to other -cases. Heaven knows how many titles I have thrown about in a casual -way, and how many readers have begged me to satisfy their curiosity as -to “Rigoletto and his abominable wife,” “The Adventure of the Tired -Captain,” or “The Curious Experience of the Patterson Family in the -Island of Uffa.” Once or twice, as in “The Adventure of the Second -Stain,” which in my judgment is one of the neatest of the stories, I -did actually use the title years before I wrote a story to correspond. - -There are some questions concerned with particular stories which turn -up periodically from every quarter of the globe. In “The Adventure of -the Priory School” Holmes remarks in his offhand way that by looking at -a bicycle track on a damp moor one can say which way it was heading. -I had so many remonstrances upon this point, varying from pity to -anger, that I took out my bicycle and tried. I had imagined that the -observations of the way in which the track of the hind wheel overlaid -the track of the front one when the machine was not running dead -straight would show the direction. I found that my correspondents were -right and I was wrong, for this would be the same whichever way the -cycle was moving. On the other hand the real solution was much simpler, -for on an undulating moor the wheels make a much deeper impression -uphill and a more shallow one downhill, so Holmes was justified of his -wisdom after all. - -Sometimes I have got upon dangerous ground where I have taken risks -through my own want of knowledge of the correct atmosphere. I have, for -example, never been a racing man, and yet I ventured to write “Silver -Blaze,” in which the mystery depends upon the laws of training and -racing. The story is all right, and Holmes may have been at the top of -his form, but my ignorance cries aloud to heaven. I read an excellent -and very damaging criticism of the story in some sporting paper, -written clearly by a man who _did_ know, in which he explained the -exact penalties which would have come upon every one concerned if they -had acted as I described. Half would have been in jail and the other -half warned off the turf for ever. However, I have never been nervous -about details, and one must be masterful sometimes. When an alarmed -Editor wrote to me once: “There is no second line of rails at that -point,” I answered, “I make one.” On the other hand, there are cases -where accuracy is essential. - -I do not wish to be ungrateful to Holmes, who has been a good friend -to me in many ways. If I have sometimes been inclined to weary of -him it is because his character admits of no light or shade. He is a -calculating machine, and anything you add to that simply weakens the -effect. Thus the variety of the stories must depend upon the romance -and compact handling of the plots. I would say a word for Watson also, -who in the course of seven volumes never shows one gleam of humour or -makes one single joke. To make a real character one must sacrifice -everything to consistency and remember Goldsmith’s criticism of Johnson -that “he would make the little fishes talk like whales.” - -I do not think that I ever realized what a living actual personality -Holmes had become to the more guileless readers, until I heard of the -very pleasing story of the char-à-bancs of French schoolboys who, when -asked what they wanted to see first in London, replied unanimously that -they wanted to see Mr. Holmes’ lodgings in Baker Street. Many have -asked me which house it is, but that is a point which for excellent -reasons I will not decide. - -There are certain Sherlock Holmes stories, apocryphal I need not say, -which go round and round the press and turn up at fixed intervals with -the regularity of a comet. - -One is the story of the cabman who is supposed to have taken me to -an hotel in Paris. “Dr. Doyle,” he cried, gazing at me fixedly, -“I perceive from your appearance that you have been recently at -Constantinople. I have reason to think also that you have been at Buda, -and I perceive some indication that you were not far from Milan.” -“Wonderful. Five francs for the secret of how you did it?” “I looked at -the labels pasted on your trunk,” said the astute cabby. - -Another perennial is of the woman who is said to have consulted -Sherlock. “I am greatly puzzled, sir. In one week I have lost a motor -horn, a brush, a box of golf balls, a dictionary and a bootjack. Can -you explain it?” “Nothing simpler, madame,” said Sherlock. “It is -clear that your neighbour keeps a goat.” - -There was a third about how Sherlock entered heaven, and by virtue of -his power of observation at once greeted Adam but the point is perhaps -too anatomical for further discussion. - -I suppose that every author receives a good many curious letters. -Certainly I have done so. Quite a number of these have been from -Russia. When they have been in the vernacular I have been compelled to -take them as read, but when they have been in English they have been -among the most curious in my collection. - -There was one young lady who began all her epistles with the words -“Good Lord.” Another had a large amount of guile underlying her -simplicity. Writing from Warsaw, she stated that she had been bedridden -for two years, and that my novels had been her only, etc., etc. So -touched was I by this flattering statement that I at once prepared an -autographed parcel of them to complete the fair invalid’s collection. -By good luck, however, I met a brother author on the same day to whom -I recounted the touching incident. With a cynical smile, he drew an -identical letter from his pocket. His novels had also been for two -years her only, etc., etc. I do not know how many more the lady had -written to; but if, as I imagine, her correspondence had extended to -several countries, she must have amassed a rather interesting library. - -The young Russian’s habit of addressing me as “Good Lord” had an even -stranger parallel at home which links it up with the subject of this -article. Shortly after I received a knighthood, I had a bill from a -tradesman which was quite correct and businesslike in every detail save -that it was made out to Sir Sherlock Holmes. I hope that I can stand -a joke as well as my neighbours, but this particular piece of humour -seemed rather misapplied and I wrote sharply upon the subject. - -In response to my letter there arrived at my hotel a very repentant -clerk, who expressed his sorrow at the incident, but kept on repeating -the phrase, “I assure you, sir, that it was bonâ fide.” - -“What do you mean by bonâ fide?” I asked. - -“Well, sir,” he replied, “my mates in the shop told me that you had -been knighted, and that when a man was knighted he changed his name, -and that you had taken that one.” - -I need not say that my annoyance vanished, and that I laughed as -heartily as his pals were probably doing round the corner. - -A few of the problems which have come my way have been very similar to -some which I had invented for the exhibition of the reasoning of Mr. -Holmes. I might perhaps quote one in which that gentleman’s method of -thought was copied with complete success. The case was as follows: A -gentleman had disappeared. He had drawn a bank balance of £40 which -was known to be on him. It was feared that he had been murdered for -the sake of the money. He had last been heard of stopping at a large -hotel in London, having come from the country that day. In the evening -he went to a music-hall performance, came out of it about ten o’clock, -returned to his hotel, changed his evening clothes, which were found in -his room next day, and disappeared utterly. No one saw him leave the -hotel, but a man occupying a neighbouring room declared that he had -heard him moving during the night. A week had elapsed at the time that -I was consulted, but the police had discovered nothing. Where was the -man? - -These were the whole of the facts as communicated to me by his -relatives in the country. Endeavouring to see the matter through the -eyes of Mr. Holmes, I answered by return mail that he was evidently -either in Glasgow or in Edinburgh. It proved later that he had, as a -fact, gone to Edinburgh, though in the week that had passed he had -moved to another part of Scotland. - -There I should leave the matter, for, as Dr. Watson has often shown, -a solution explained is a mystery spoiled. At this stage the reader -can lay down the book and show how simple it all is by working out the -problem for himself. He has all the data which were ever given to me. -For the sake of those, however, who have no turn for such conundrums, I -will try to indicate the links which make the chain. The one advantage -which I possessed was that I was familiar with the routine of London -hotels--though I fancy it differs little from that of hotels elsewhere. - -The first thing was to look at the facts and separate what was certain -from what was conjecture. It was _all_ certain except the statement of -the person who heard the missing man in the night. How could he tell -such a sound from any other sound in a large hotel? That point could be -disregarded, if it traversed the general conclusions. - -The first clear deduction was that the man had meant to disappear. -Why else should he draw all his money? He had got out of the hotel -during the night. But there is a night porter in all hotels, and it is -impossible to get out without his knowledge when the door is once shut. -The door is shut after the theatre-goers return--say at twelve o’clock. -Therefore, the man left the hotel before twelve o’clock. He had come -from the music-hall at ten, had changed his clothes, and had departed -with his bag. No one had seen him do so. The inference is that he had -done it at the moment when the hall was full of the returning guests, -which is from eleven to eleven-thirty. After that hour, even if the -door were still open, there are few people coming and going so that he -with his bag would certainly have been seen. - -Having got so far upon firm ground, we now ask ourselves why a man who -desires to hide himself should go out at such an hour. If he intended -to conceal himself in London he need never have gone to the hotel at -all. Clearly then he was going to catch a train which would carry him -away. But a man who is deposited by a train in any provincial station -during the night is likely to be noticed, and he might be sure that -when the alarm was raised and his description given, some guard or -porter would remember him. Therefore, his destination would be some -large town which he would reach as a terminus where all his fellow -passengers would disembark and where he would lose himself in the -crowd. When one turns up the time-table and sees that the great Scotch -expresses bound for Edinburgh and Glasgow start about midnight, the -goal is reached. As for his dress-suit, the fact that he abandoned it -proved that he intended to adopt a line of life where there were no -social amenities. This deduction also proved to be correct. - -I quote such a case in order to show that the general lines of -reasoning advocated by Holmes have a real practical application to -life. In another case, where a girl had become engaged to a young -foreigner who suddenly disappeared, I was able, by a similar process of -deduction, to show her very clearly both whither he had gone and how -unworthy he was of her affections. - -On the other hand, these semi-scientific methods are occasionally -laboured and slow as compared with the results of the rough-and-ready, -practical man. Lest I should seem to have been throwing bouquets either -to myself or to Mr. Holmes, let me state that on the occasion of a -burglary of the village inn, within a stone-throw of my house, the -village constable, with no theories at all, had seized the culprit -while I had got no further than that he was a left-handed man with -nails in his boots. - -The unusual or dramatic effects which lead to the invocation of Mr. -Holmes in fiction are, of course, great aids to him in reaching a -conclusion. It is the case where there is nothing to get hold of -which is the deadly one. I heard of such a one in America which would -certainly have presented a formidable problem. A gentleman of blameless -life starting off for a Sunday evening walk with his family, suddenly -observed that he had forgotten something. He went back into the house, -the door of which was still open, and he left his people waiting for -him outside. He never reappeared, and from that day to this there has -been no clue as to what befell him. This was certainly one of the -strangest cases of which I have ever heard in real life. - -Another very singular case came within my own observation. It was -sent to me by an eminent London publisher. This gentleman had in his -employment a head of department whose name we shall take as Musgrave. -He was a hardworking person, with no special feature in his character. -Mr. Musgrave died, and several years after his death a letter was -received addressed to him, in the care of his employers. It bore the -postmark of a tourist resort in the west of Canada, and had the note -“Conflfilms” upon the outside of the envelope, with the words “Report -Sy” in one corner. - -The publishers naturally opened the envelope as they had no note of -the dead man’s relatives. Inside were two blank sheets of paper. The -letter, I may add, was registered. The publisher, being unable to make -anything of this, sent it on to me, and I submitted the blank sheets -to every possible chemical and heat test, with no result whatever. -Beyond the fact that the writing appeared to be that of a woman there -is nothing to add to this account. The matter was, and remains, an -insoluble mystery. How the correspondent could have something so secret -to say to Mr. Musgrave and yet not be aware that this person had been -dead for several years is very hard to understand--or why blank sheets -should be so carefully registered through the mail. I may add that I -did not trust the sheets to my own chemical tests, but had the best -expert advice without getting any result. Considered as a case it was a -failure--and a very tantalizing one. - -Mr. Sherlock Holmes has always been a fair mark for practical -jokers, and I have had numerous bogus cases of various degrees of -ingenuity, marked cards, mysterious warnings, cypher messages, and -other curious communications. It is astonishing the amount of trouble -which some people will take with no object save a mystification. Upon -one occasion, as I was entering the hall to take part in an amateur -billiard competition, I was handed by the attendant a small packet -which had been left for me. Upon opening it I found a piece of ordinary -green chalk such as is used in billiards. I was amused by the incident, -and I put the chalk into my waistcoat pocket and used it during the -game. Afterward, I continued to use it until one day, some months -later, as I rubbed the tip of my cue the face of the chalk crumbled -in, and I found it was hollow. From the recess thus exposed I drew out -a small slip of paper with the words “From Arsene Lupin to Sherlock -Holmes.” - -Imagine the state of mind of the joker who took such trouble to -accomplish such a result. - -One of the mysteries submitted to Mr. Holmes was rather upon the -psychic plane and therefore beyond his powers. The facts as alleged are -most remarkable, though I have no proof of their truth save that the -lady wrote earnestly and gave both her name and address. The person, -whom we will call Mrs. Seagrave, had been given a curious secondhand -ring, snake-shaped, and dull gold. This she took from her finger at -night. One night she slept with it on and had a fearsome dream in which -she seemed to be pushing off some furious creature which fastened its -teeth into her arm. On awakening, the pain in the arm continued, and -next day the imprint of a double set of teeth appeared upon the arm, -with one tooth of the lower jaw missing. The marks were in the shape of -blue-black bruises which had not broken the skin. - -[Illustration] - -“I do not know,” says my correspondent, “what made me think the ring -had anything to do with the matter, but I took a dislike to the thing -and did not wear it for some months, when, being on a visit, I took to -wearing it again.” To make a long story short, the same thing happened, -and the lady settled the matter for ever by dropping her ring into -the hottest corner of the kitchen range. This curious story, which -I believe to be genuine, may not be as supernatural as it seems. It -is well known that in some subjects a strong mental impression does -produce a physical effect. Thus a very vivid nightmare dream with the -impression of a bite might conceivably produce the mark of a bite. -Such cases are well attested in medical annals. The second incident -would, of course, arise by unconscious suggestion from the first. None -the less, it is a very interesting little problem, whether psychic or -material. - -Buried treasures are naturally among the problems which have come -to Mr. Holmes. One genuine case was accompanied by a diagram here -reproduced. It refers to an Indiaman which was wrecked upon the South -African coast in the year 1782. If I were a younger man, I should be -seriously inclined to go personally and look into the matter. - -The ship contained a remarkable treasure, including, I believe, the -old crown regalia of Delhi. It is surmised that they buried these near -the coast, and that this chart is a note of the spot. Each Indiaman in -those days had its own semaphore code, and it is conjectured that the -three marks upon the left are signals from a three-armed semaphore. -Some record of their meaning might perhaps even now be found in the old -papers of the India Office. The circle upon the right gives the compass -bearings. The larger semi-circle may be the curved edge of a reef or of -a rock. The figures above are the indications how to reach the X which -marks the treasure. Possibly they may give the bearings as 186 feet -from the 4 upon the semi-circle. The scene of the wreck is a lonely -part of the country, but I shall be surprised if sooner or later, some -one does not seriously set to work to solve the mystery--indeed at the -present moment there is a small company working to that end. - -I must now apologise for this digressive chapter and return to the -orderly sequence of my career. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -NORWOOD AND SWITZERLAND - - Psychic Research Society--Psychic Leanings--Literary Circles in - London--Young Writers--Henry Irving--A Great Blow--Davos--“Brigadier - Gerard”--Major Pond--American Lecturing in 1894--First - Lecture--Anti-British Wave--Answer to Prayer. - - -The chief event of our Norwood life was the birth of my son Kingsley, -who lived to play a man’s part in the Great War, and who died shortly -after its conclusion. My own life was so busy that I had little time -for religious development, but my thoughts still ran much upon psychic -matters, and it was at this time that I joined the Psychical Research -Society, of which I am now one of the senior members. I had few psychic -experiences myself, and my material philosophy, as expressed in the -“Stark Munro Letters,” which were written just at the end of the -Norwood period, was so strong that it did not easily crumble. Yet as -year by year I read the wonderful literature of psychic science and -experience, I became more and more impressed by the strength of the -Spiritualist position and by the levity and want of all dignity and -accurate knowledge which characterized the attitude of their opponents. -The religious side of the matter had not yet struck me, but I felt -more and more that the case for the phenomena vouched for by such -men as Sir William Crookes, Barrett, Russel Wallace, Victor Hugo and -Zöllner was so strong that I could see no answer to their exact record -of observations. “It is incredible but it is true,” said Crookes, and -the aphorism seemed to exactly express my dawning convictions. I had a -weekly impulse from the psychic paper, “Light,” which has, I maintain, -during its long career and up to the present day, presented as much -brain to the square inch as any journal published in Great Britain. - -My pleasant recollection of those days from 1880 to 1893 lay in my -first introduction, as a more or less rising author, to the literary -life of London. It is extraordinary to remember that at that time -there was a general jeremiad in the London press about the extinction -of English literature, and the assumed fact that there were no rising -authors to take the place of those who were gone. The real fact is that -there was a most amazing crop, all coming up simultaneously, presenting -perhaps no Dickens or Thackeray, but none the less so numerous and many -sided and with so high an average of achievement that I think they -would match for varied excellence any similar harvest in our literary -history. It was during the years roughly from 1888 to 1893 that Rudyard -Kipling, James Stephen Phillips, Watson, Grant Allen, Wells, Barrie, -Bernard Shaw, H. A. Jones, Pinero, Marie Corelli, Stanley Weyman, -Anthony Hope, Hall Caine, and a whole list of others were winning their -spurs. Many of these I met in the full flush of their youth and their -powers. Of some of them I will speak more fully later. As to the old -school they were certainly somewhat of a declension, and the newcomers -found no very serious opposition in gaining a hearing. Wilkie Collins, -Trollope, George Eliot and Charles Reade had passed. I have always been -a very great admirer of the last, who was really a great innovator as -well as a most dramatic writer, for it was he who first introduced -realism and founded his stories upon carefully arranged documents. He -was the literary father of Zola. George Eliot has never appealed to me -much, for I like my effects in a less leisurely fashion; but Trollope -also I consider to be a very original writer, though I fancy he -traces his ancestry through Jane Austen. No writer is ever absolutely -original. He always joins at some point onto that old tree of which he -is a branch. - -Of the literary men whom I met at that time my most vivid recollections -are of the group who centred round the new magazine, “The Idler,” which -had been started by Jerome K. Jerome, who had deservedly shot into fame -with his splendidly humorous “Three Men in a Boat.” It has all the -exuberance and joy of life which youth brings with it, and even now if -I have ever time to be at all sad, which is seldom enough, I can laugh -away the shadows when I open that book. Jerome is a man who, like most -humorists, has a very serious side to his character, as all who have -seen “The Third Floor Back” will acknowledge, but he was inclined to be -hotheaded and intolerant in political matters, from pure earnestness of -purpose, which alienated some of his friends. He was associated in the -editorship of “The Idler” with Robert Barr, a volcanic Anglo- or rather -Scot-American, with a violent manner, a wealth of strong adjectives, -and one of the kindest of natures underneath it all. He was one of -the best raconteurs I have ever known, and as a writer I have always -felt that he did not quite come into his own. George Burgin, like some -quaint gentle character from Dickens, was the sub-editor, and Barrie, -Zangwill, and many other rising men were among the contributors who -met periodically at dinner. I was not unfaithful to “The Strand,” but -there were some contributions which they did not need, and with these I -established my connection with “The Idler.” It was at this time and in -this way that I met James Barrie, of whom I shall have more to say when -I come to that chapter which treats of some eminent and interesting men -whom I have known. - -Two isolated facts stand out in my memory during that time at Norwood. -One was that there seemed to be an imminent danger of war with France -and that I applied for the Mediterranean war-correspondentship of -the “Central News,” guessing that the chief centre of activity and -interest would be in that quarter. I got the appointment and was all -ready to start, but fortunately the crisis passed. The second was my -first venture in the drama. I had written a short story called “A -Straggler of ’15,” which had seemed to me to be a moving picture of -an old soldier and his ways. My own eyes were moist as I wrote it and -that is the surest way to moisten those of others. I now turned this -into a one-act play, and, greatly daring, I sent it to Henry Irving, of -whose genius I had been a fervent admirer ever since those Edinburgh -days when I had paid my sixpence for the gallery night after night to -see him in “Hamlet” and “The Lyons Mail.” To my great delight I had a -pleasing note from Bram Stoker, the great man’s secretary, offering me -£100 for the copyright. It was a good bargain for him, for it is not -too much to say that Corporal Gregory Brewster became one of his stock -parts and it had the enormous advantage that the older he got the more -naturally he played it. The house laughed and sobbed, exactly as I had -done when I wrote it. Several critics went out of their way to explain -that the merit lay entirely with the great actor and had nothing to do -with the indifferent play, but as a matter of fact the last time I saw -it acted it was by a real corporal from a military camp in the humble -setting of a village hall and it had exactly the same effect upon the -audience which Irving produced at the Lyceum. So perhaps there was -something in writing after all, and certainly every stage effect was -indicated in the manuscript. I would add that with his characteristic -largeness in money matters Irving always sent me a guinea for each -performance in spite of his purchase of the copyright. Henry Irving the -son carried on the part and played it, in my opinion, better than the -father. I can well remember the flush of pleasure on his face when I -uttered the word “better” and how he seized my hand. I have no doubt -it was trying for his great powers to be continually belittled by -their measurement with those of his giant father, to whom he bore so -remarkable a physical resemblance. His premature death was a great loss -to the stage, as was that of his brother Lawrence, drowned with his -wife in the great Canadian river of the same name as himself. - -I now come to the great misfortune which darkened and deflected our -lives. I have said that my wife and I had taken a tour in Switzerland. -I do not know whether she had over-taxed herself in this excursion, -or whether we encountered microbes in some inn bedroom, but the fact -remains that within a few weeks of our return she complained of pain -in her side and cough. I had no suspicion of anything serious, but -sent for the nearest good physician. To my surprise and alarm he told -me when he descended from the bedroom that the lungs were very gravely -affected, that there was every sign of rapid consumption and that he -thought the case a most serious one with little hope, considering her -record and family history, of a permanent cure. With two children, aged -four and one, and a wife who was in such deadly danger, the situation -was a difficult one. I confirmed the diagnosis by having Sir Douglas -Powell down to see her, and I then set all my energy to work to save -the situation. The home was abandoned, the newly bought furniture was -sold, and we made for Davos in the High Alps where there seemed the -best chance of killing this accursed microbe which was rapidly eating -out her vitals. - -And we succeeded. When I think that the attack was one of what is -called “galloping consumption,” and that the doctors did not give more -than a few months, and yet that we postponed the fatal issue from 1893 -to 1906, I think it is proof that the successive measures were wise. -The invalid’s life was happy too, for it was necessarily spent in -glorious scenery. It was seldom marred by pain, and it was sustained -by that optimism which is peculiar to the disease, and which came -naturally to her quietly contented nature. - -As there were no particular social distractions at Davos, and as our -life was bounded by the snow and fir which girt us in, I was able to -devote myself to doing a good deal of work and also to taking up with -some energy the winter sports for which the place is famous. Whilst -there I began the Brigadier Gerard series of stories, founded largely -upon that great book, “The Memoirs of General Marbot.” This entailed -a great deal of research into Napoleonic days, and my military detail -was, I think, very accurate--so much so that I had a warm letter of -appreciation from Archibald Forbes, the famous war correspondent, who -was himself a great Napoleonic and military student. Before the end of -the winter we were assured that the ravages of the disease had been -checked. I dared not return to England, however, for fear of a relapse, -so with the summer we moved on to Maloja, another health resort at the -end of the Engadine valley, and there we endeavoured to hold all we had -won--which, with occasional relapses, we succeeded in doing. - -My sister Lottie, free at last from the work which she had so bravely -done, had now joined us. Connie, the younger sister, had come back from -Portugal earlier, and had joined us at Norwood, where she had met and -eventually married E. W. Hornung the novelist. Of Hornung I will speak -later. In the meantime Lottie’s presence and the improvement of the -invalid, which was so marked that no sudden crisis was thought at all -possible, gave me renewed liberty of action. Before the catastrophe -occurred I had given some lectures on literature at home, and the work -with its movement and bustle was not distasteful to me. Now I was -strongly pressed to go to America on the same errand, and in the late -autumn of 1894 I set out on this new adventure. - -My brother Innes, he who had shared my first days in Southsea, had -since passed through Richmond Public School, and afterwards the -Woolwich Academy, so that he was now just emerging as a subaltern. As -I needed some companion, and as I thought that the change would do him -good, I asked him to come with me to the States. We crossed on the -ill-fated German liner _Elbe_, which a very short time afterwards was -sunk in collision with a collier in the North Sea. Already I observed -evidence of that irrational hatred of the British which in the course -of twenty years was to lead to so terrific a result involving the -destruction of the German Empire. I remember that on some fête day -on board, the saloon was thickly decorated with German and American -flags without one single British one, though a fair proportion of -the passengers were British. Innes and I then and there drew a Union -Jack and stuck it up aloft, where its isolation drew attention to our -grievance. - -Major Pond was my impresario in America, and a quaint character he was. -He seemed the very personification of his country, huge, loose limbed, -straggling, with a goat’s beard and a nasal voice. He had fought in the -Civil War and been mixed up with every historical American event of his -lifetime. - -He was a good, kind fellow and we formed a friendship which was never -broken. He met us in the docks, and carried us off to a little hotel -beside the Aldine Club, a small literary club, in which we had our -meals. - -I have treated America and my impression of that amazing and perplexing -country in later pages of these memoirs, when I visited it under more -detached conditions. At present it was all hard work with little -time for general observations. Pond had fixed me up a pretty hard -schedule, but on the other hand I had bargained to get back to Davos -in time to spend Christmas with my wife, so that there was a limit -to my servitude. My first reading was given in a fashionable Baptist -Church, which was the usual launching slip for Pond’s new lecturers. -We had walked from the retiring room and were just coming in sight of -the audience when I felt something tickle my ear. I put up my hand and -found that my collar was undone, my tie had fallen off, and my stud, -the first cause of all the trouble, had disappeared. Standing there, -on the edge of the platform, Pond dragged out his own stud. I replaced -everything, and sailed on quite as I should be, while Pond retired to -refit. It is strange, and possibly more than coincidence, how often one -is prevented at the last moment from making some foolish appearance in -public. - -The readings went very well and the audience was generous in applause. -I have my own theory of reading, which is that it should be entirely -disassociated from acting and should be made as natural and also as -audible as possible. Such a presentment is, I am sure, the less tiring -for an audience. Indeed I read to them exactly as in my boyhood I used -to read to my mother. I gave extracts from recent British authors, -including some work of my own, and as I mixed up the grave and the gay -I was able to keep them mildly entertained for an hour. Some papers -maintained that I could not read at all, but I think that what they -really meant was that I did not act at all. Others seemed to endorse my -method. Anyhow I had an excellent first reception and Pond told me that -he lay smiling all night after it. He had no difficulty afterwards in -booking as many engagements as he could fit into the time. I visited -every town of any size between Boston in the north and Washington in -the south, while Chicago and Milwaukee marked my western limit. - -Sometimes I found that it took me all my time to fit in the -engagements, however fast I might travel. Once, for example, I lectured -at Daly’s Theatre in New York at a matinée, at Princeton College the -same evening, some 50 miles away, and at Philadelphia next afternoon. -It was no wonder that I got very tired--the more so as the exuberant -hospitality in those pre-prohibition days was enough in itself to take -the energies out of the visitor. It was all done in kindness, but it -was dangerous for a man who had his work to do. I had one little break -when I paid a pleasant visit to Rudyard Kipling, of which I shall -speak later. Bar those few days I was going hard all the time, and it -is no wonder that I was so tired out that I kept to my bunk most of the -way from New York to Liverpool. - -My memories are the confused ones of a weary man. I recall one amusing -incident when as I bustled on to the stage at Daly’s Theatre I tripped -over the wooden sill of the stage door, with the result that I came -cantering down the sloping stage towards the audience, shedding books -and papers on my way. There was much laughter and a general desire for -an encore. - -Our visit was marred by one of those waves of anti-British feeling -which sweep occasionally over the States, and which emanate from their -own early history, every grievance being exaggerated and inflamed by -the constant hostility of Irish pressmen and politicians. It all seems -very absurd and contemptible to the travelling Briton, because he is -aware how entirely one-sided it is, and how welcome, for example, -is the American flag in every British public display. This was not -known by the home-staying American, and probably he imagined that his -own country was treated as rudely by us as ours by his. The Dunraven -yacht race had given additional acerbity to this chronic ill-feeling, -and it was very active at the time of our visit. I remember that a -banquet was given to us at a club at Detroit at which the wine flowed -freely, and which ended by a speech by one of our hosts in which he -bitterly attacked the British Empire. My brother and I, with one or -two Canadians who were present, were naturally much affronted, but we -made every allowance for the lateness of the evening. I asked leave, -however, to reply to the speech, and some of those who were present -have assured me that they have never forgotten what I said. In the -course of my remarks I said: “You Americans have lived up to now within -your own palings, and know nothing of the real world outside. But now -your land is filled up, and you will be compelled to mix more with -the other nations. When you do so you will find that there is only -one which can at all understand your ways and your aspirations, or -will have the least sympathy. That is the mother country which you are -now so fond of insulting. She is an Empire, and you will soon be an -Empire also, and only then will you understand each other, and you will -realize that you have only one real friend in the world.” It was only -two or three years later that there came the Cuban war, the episode of -Manila Bay where the British Commander joined up with the Americans -against the Germans, and several other incidents which proved the truth -of my remarks. - -A writer of average income is bound to lose pecuniarily upon a lecture -tour, even in America, unless he prolongs it very much and works very -hard indeed. By losing I do not mean that he is actually out of pocket, -but that he could have earned far more if he had never gone outside -his own study. In my own case I found after our joint expenses were -paid that there was about £1,000 over. The disposal of this money -furnished a curious example of the power of prayer, which, as Mr. S. -S. McClure has already narrated it, I have no delicacy in telling. He -tells how he was endeavouring to run his magazine, how he was down to -his last farthing, how he dropped on his knees on the office floor to -pray for help, and how on the same day an Englishman who was a mere -acquaintance walked into the office, and said: “McClure, I believe in -you and in the future of your magazine,” and put down £1,000 on the -table. A critic might perhaps observe that under such circumstances -to sell 1,000 shares at face value was rather hard upon the ignorant -and trusting buyer. For a long time I could clearly see the workings -of Providence as directed towards Sam McClure, but could not quite -get their perspective as regards myself, but I am bound to admit that -in the long run, after many vicissitudes, the deal was justified both -ways, and I was finally able to sell my holding twenty years later at a -reasonable advance. The immediate result, however, was that I returned -to Davos with all my American earnings locked up, and with no actual -visible result of my venture. - -The Davos season was in full blast when I returned, and my wife was -holding her own well. It was at this time, in the early months of 1895, -that I developed ski-running in Switzerland as described in my chapter -on Sport. We lingered late at Davos, so late that I was able to lay out -a golf course, which was hampered in its start by the curious trick the -cows had of chewing up the red flags. From Davos we finally moved to -Caux, over the lake of Geneva, where for some months I worked steadily -at my writing. With the autumn I visited England, leaving the ladies -at Caux, and it was then that events occurred which turned our road of -life to a new angle. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -EGYPT IN 1896 - - Life in Egypt--Accident--The Men Who Made Egypt--Up the Nile--The Salt - Lakes--Adventure in the Desert--The Coptic Monastery--Colonel Lewis--A - Surprise. - - -The wretched microbe which had so completely disorganized our lives, -and which had produced all the sufferings so patiently borne, now -seemed to be latent, and it was hoped that if we spent a winter in -Egypt the cure might be complete. During this short visit to England, -whither I had to rush every now and again in order to adjust my -affairs, I met Grant Allen at luncheon, and he told me that he had also -suffered from consumption and that he had found his salvation in the -soil and air of Hindhead in Surrey. It was quite a new idea to me that -we might actually live with impunity in England once more, and it was a -pleasant thought after resigning oneself to a life which was unnatural -to both of us at foreign health resorts. I acted very promptly, for -I rushed down to Hindhead, bought an admirable plot of ground, put -the architectural work into the hands of my old friend and fellow -psychic researcher, Mr. Ball of Southsea, and saw the builder chosen -and everything in train before leaving England in the autumn of 1895. -If Egypt was a success, we should have a roof of our own to which to -return. The thought of it brought renewed hope to the sufferer. - -I then set forth, picked up my wife and my sister Lottie at Caux and -took them on by easy stages through Italy, stopping a few days at Rome, -and so to Brindisi, where we picked up a boat for Egypt. Once at Cairo -we took up our quarters at the Mena Hotel, in the very shadow of the -Pyramids, and there we settled down for the winter. I was still doing -the Brigadier Gerard stories at the time, which required a good deal of -historical research, but I had brought my materials with me, and all I -lacked was the energy, which I found it most difficult to find in that -enervating land. - -On the whole it was a pleasant winter and led up to a most unforeseen -climax. I ascended the Great Pyramid once, and was certainly never -tempted to do so again, and was content to watch the struggles of -the endless drove of tourists who attempted that uncomfortable and -useless feat. There was golf of sorts and there was riding. I was -still an immature horseman, but I felt that only practice would help -me, so I set forth upon weird steeds provided by the livery stables -opposite. As a rule they erred on the side of dulness, but I have a -very vivid recollection of one which restored the average. If my right -eyelid droops somewhat over my eye it is not the result of philosophic -brooding, but it is the doing of a black devil of a horse with a -varminty head, slab-sided ribs and restless ears. I disliked the look -of the beast, and the moment I threw my leg over him he dashed off as -if it were a race. Away we went across the desert, I with one foot in -the stirrup, holding on as best I might. It is possible I could have -kept on until he was weary, but he came suddenly on cultivated land -and his forelegs sank in a moment over his fetlocks. The sudden stop -threw me over his head, but I held on to the bridle, and he, pawing -about with his front hoofs, struck me over the eye, and made a deep -star-shaped wound which covered me with blood. I led him back and a -pretty sight I presented as I appeared before the crowded verandah! -Five stitches were needed, but I was thankful, for very easily I might -have lost my sight. - -My wife was well enough now to join in society, while my sister was -just at an age to enjoy it, so that we saw a little of the very jovial -life of Cairo, though the fact that Mena is some seven miles out, on -the most monotonous road in the world, saved us from any excess. It was -always a task to get in and out, so that only a great temptation would -draw us. I joined in male society, however, a good deal and learned -to know many of those great men who were shaping the new destinies of -Egypt. I sketched some of them at the time in two paragraphs which may -be quoted. - -“There is a broad and comfortable sofa in the hall of the Turf Club, -and if you sit there about luncheon time you will see a fair sprinkling -of Anglo-Egyptians, men who have helped to make, and are still helping -to make, the history of our times. You have a view of the street from -where you are, and perhaps in the brilliant sunshine a carriage flies -past with two running syces before it and an English coachman upon -the box. Within, one catches a glimpse of a strong florid face with a -close-cropped soldierly grey moustache, the expression good-humoured -and inscrutable. This is Lord Cromer, whom Egypt has changed from a -major of gunners to a peer of the realm, while he in turn has changed -it from a province of the East to one of the West. One has but to look -at him to read the secret of his success as a diplomatist. His clear -head, his brave heart, his physical health, and his nerves of iron are -all impressed upon you even in that momentary glance at his carriage. -And that lounging ennuyé attitude is characteristic also--most -characteristic at this moment, when few men in the world can have more -pressing responsibility upon their shoulders. It is what one could -expect from the man who at the most critical moment of recent Egyptian -history is commonly reported to have brought diplomatic interviews to -an abrupt conclusion with the explanation that the time had come for -his daily lawn-tennis engagement. It is no wonder that so strong a -representative should win the confidence of his own countrymen, but -he has made as deep an impression upon the native mind, which finds -it difficult under this veiled Protectorate of ours to estimate the -comparative strength of individuals. ‘Suppose Khedive tell Lord Cromer -go, Lord Cromer go?’ asked my donkey-boy, and so put his chocolate -finger upon the central point of the whole situation. - -“But this is a digression from the Turf Club, where you are seated -upon a settee in the hall and watching the Englishmen who have done so -much to regenerate Egypt. Of all the singular experiences of this most -venerable land, surely this rebuilding at the hands of a little group -of bustling, clear-headed Anglo-Saxons is the most extraordinary. There -are Garstin and Wilcocks, the great water captains who have coaxed -the Nile to right and to left, until the time seems to be coming when -none of its waters will ever reach the Mediterranean at all. There is -Kitchener, tall and straight, a grim silent soldier, with a weal of a -Dervish bullet upon his face. There you may see Rogers, who stamped -out the cholera, Scott, who reformed the law, Palmer, who relieved the -over-taxed fellaheen, Hooker, who exterminated the locusts, Wingate, -who knows more than any European of the currents of feeling in the -Soudan--the same Wingate who reached his arm out a thousand miles -and plucked Slatin out of Khartoum. And beside him the small man -with the yellow-brown moustache and the cheery, ruddy face is Slatin -himself, whose one wish in the world now is to have the Khalifa at his -sword-point--that Khalifa at whose heels he had to run for so many -weary years.” - -Shortly after the opening of the New Year of 1896 we went in one -of Cook’s boats up the river, getting as far as the outposts of -civilization at Wady Halfa. The banks in the upper reaches were not -too safe, as raiders on camels came down at times, but on the water -one was secure from all the chances of Fate. At the same time I -thought that the managers of these tours took undue risks, and when I -found myself on one occasion on the rock of Abousir with a drove of -helpless tourists, male and female, nothing whatever between us and the -tribesmen, and a river between us and the nearest troops, I could not -but think what an appalling situation would arise if a little troop of -these far-riding camel men were to appear. We had four negro soldiers -as an escort, who would be helpless before any normal raiding party. It -was the strong impression which I there received which gave me the idea -of taking a group of people of different types and working out what the -effect of so horrible an experience would be upon each. This became -“The Tragedy of the Korosko,” published in America as “A Desert Drama” -and afterwards dramatized with variations as “The Fires of Fate.” All -went well as a matter of fact, but I thought then, and experienced -British officers agreed with me, that it was unjustifiable. As the -whole frontier force was longing for an excuse to advance, I am not -sure that they would not have welcomed it if the Dervishes had risen to -the ground bait which every week in the same place was laid in front of -them. - -I do not know how many temples we explored during that tour, but they -seemed to me endless, some dating back to the mists of antiquity -and some as recent as Cleopatra and the Roman period. The majestic -continuity of Egyptian History seems to be its most remarkable feature. -You examine the tombs of the First Dynasty at Abydos and there you see -carved deep in the stone the sacred hawk, the goose, the plover, the -signs of Horus and Osiris, of Upper and Lower Egypt. These were carved -long before the Pyramids were built and can hardly be less ancient than -4000 B.C. Then you inspect a temple built by the Ptolemies, after the -date of Alexander the Great, and there you see the same old symbols cut -in the same old way. There is nothing like this in the world. The Roman -and the British Empires are mushrooms in comparison. Judged by Egyptian -standards the days of Alfred the Great would be next door to our own, -and our customs, symbols and way of thinking the same. The race seems -to have petrified, and how they could do so without being destroyed by -some more virile nation is hard to understand. - -Their arts seem to have been high but their reasoning power in many -ways contemptible. The recent discovery of the King’s tomb near -Thebes--I write in 1924--shows how wonderful were their decorations -and the amenities of their lives. But consider the tomb itself. What -a degraded intelligence does it not show! The idea that the body, the -old outworn greatcoat which was once wrapped round the soul, should at -any cost be preserved is the last word in materialism. And the hundred -baskets of provisions to feed the soul upon its journey! I can never -believe that a people with such ideas could be other than emasculated -in their minds--the fate of every nation which comes under the rule of -a priesthood. - -It had been suggested that I should go out to the Salt Lakes in the -Desert some 50 miles from Cairo, and see the old Coptic Monastery -there. Those ancient monasteries, the abode alternately of saints -and perverts--we saw specimens of each--have always aroused my keen -interest, dating as they do to very early days of Christianity. Indeed, -their date is often unknown, but everything betokens great age and the -spirit which founded them seems to have been that of the hermits who in -the third and fourth centuries swarmed in these wildernesses. - -Leaving my wife at Mena, I went with Colonel Lewis of the Egyptian -army, an excellent companion and guide. On arriving at a wayside -station, we found a most amazing vehicle awaiting us, a sort of circus -coach, all gilding and frippery. It proved to be the coach of State -which had been prepared for Napoleon III on the chance that he would -come to open the Suez Canal. It was surely a good bit of work, for here -it was still strong and fit, but absurdly out of place in the majestic -simplicity of the Libyan Desert. - -Into this we got and set forth, the only guide being wheel-marks across -the sand which in some of the harder places were almost invisible. -The great sand waste rolled in yellow billows all around us, and far -behind us the line of green trees marked the course of the Nile. Once -a black dot appeared which, as it grew nearer, proved to be some sort -of Oriental on foot. As he came up to us he opened a blackened mouth, -pointed to it, and cried, “Moya! Moya!” which means water. We had none -and could only point encouragingly to the green belt behind us, on -which with a curse he staggered upon his way. - -A surprising adventure befell us, for the heavens suddenly clouded -over and rain began to fall, an almost unknown thing in those parts. -We lumbered on, however, with our two horses, while Colonel Lewis, who -was keen on getting fit, ran behind. I remember saying to him that -in my wildest dreams I never thought that I should drive across the -Libyan Desert in an Emperor’s coach with a full colonel as carriage -dog. Presently in the fading light the horses slowed down, the Nubian -driver descended, and began alternately scanning the ground and -making gestures of despair. We realized then that he had lost the -tracks and therefore that we had no notion where we were, though we -had strong reasons to believe that we were to the south of the route. -The difficulty was to know which was north and which south. It was an -awkward business since we had no food or water and could see no end to -our troubles. The further we moved the deeper we should be involved. -Night had closed in, and I was looking up at the drifting scud above -us when in the chink of two clouds I saw for an instant a cluster of -stars, and made sure that they were the four wheels of Charles’s Wain. -I am no astronomer, but I reasoned that this constellation would lie -to the north of us, and so it proved, for when we headed that way, -examining the ground every hundred yards or so with matches, we came -across the track once more. - -Our adventures, however, were not over, and it was all like a queer -dream. We had great difficulty in keeping the track in the darkness, -and the absurd coach lumbered and creaked while we walked with lanterns -ahead of it. Suddenly to our joy we saw a bright light in the gloom. We -quickened our pace, and came presently to a tent with a florid-bearded -man seated outside it beside a little table where he was drawing by -the light of a lamp. The rain had cleared now, but the sky was still -overcast. In answer to our hail this man rather gruffly told us that -he was a German surveyor at work in the desert. He motioned with his -hand when we told him whither we were bound, and said it was close by. -After leaving him we wandered on, and losing the tracks we were again -very badly bushed. It seemed an hour or two before to our joy we saw a -light ahead and prepared for a night’s rest at the halfway house, which -was our immediate destination. But when we reached the light what we -saw was a florid bearded man sitting outside a small tent with a lamp -upon a table. We had moved in a circle. Fresh explanations--and this -time we really did keep to the track and reached a big deserted wooden -hut, where we put up the horses, ate some cold food, and tumbled, very -tired, into two of the bunks which lined it. - -The morrow made amends for all. It broke cold and clear and I have -seldom felt a greater sense of exhilaration than when I awoke and -walking out before dressing saw the whole endless desert stretching -away on every side of me, yellow sand and black rock, to the blue -shimmering horizon. We harnessed up and within a few hours came on the -Natron Lake, a great salt lake, with a few scattered houses at one end -where the workers dry out and prepare the salt. A couple of miles off -was the lonely monastery which we had come to see--less lonely now, but -before the salt works were established one of the most inaccessible -places one could imagine. It consisted of a huge outer wall, which -seemed to be made of hardened clay. It had no doors or windows save -one little opening which could be easily defended against the prowling -Arabs, but I fear the garrison would not be very stout-hearted, for it -was said to be the fear of military service which caused many of the -monks to discover that they had a vocation. On being admitted I was -conscious that we were not too welcome, though the military title of my -companion commanded respect. We were shown round the inner courtyard, -where there were palm trees and a garden, and then round the scattered -houses within the wall. Near the latter there was, I remember, a barrel -full of some substance which seemed to me, both by look and feel, to be -rounded pieces of some light stone, and I asked if it were to hurl down -at the Arabs if they attacked the door. It proved to be the store of -bread for the Monastery. We were treated to wine, which was sweet tent -wine, which is still used, I believe, in the Holy Communion, showing -how straight our customs come from the East. The Abbot seemed to me to -be a decent man, but he complained of illness and was gratified when I -overhauled him thoroughly, percussed his chest, and promised to send -him out some medicine from Cairo. I did so, but whether it ever reached -my remote patient I never learned. Some of the brothers, however, -looked debauched, and there was a general air of nothing-to-do, which -may have been deceptive but which certainly impressed me that day. -As I looked from the walls and saw the desert on all sides, unbroken -save for one blue corner of the salt lake, it was strange to consider -that this was all which these men would ever see of the world, and to -contrast their fate with my own busy and varied existence. There was -a library, but the books were scattered on the floor, all of them old -and some no doubt rare. Since the discovery of the “Codex Sinaiticus” -I presume that all these old Coptic libraries have been examined by -scholars, but it certainly seemed to me that there might be some -valuable stuff in that untidy heap. - -Next evening Colonel Lewis and I were back in Cairo. We heard no news -upon the way, and we had reached the Turf Club and were in the cloak -room washing our hands before dinner when some man came in and said: - -“Why, Lewis, how is it you are not with your brigade?” - -“My brigade!” - -“Have you been away?” - -“Yes, at the Natron Lakes.” - -“Good Heavens! Have you heard nothing?” - -“No.” - -“Why, man, war is declared. We are advancing on Dongola. The whole army -is concentrating on the frontier, and you are in command of an advanced -brigade.” - -“Good God!” Lewis’s soap splashed into the water, and I wonder he did -not fall plump on the floor. Thus it was that we learned of the next -adventure which was opening up before both us and the British Empire. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -ON THE EDGE OF A STORM - - The Storm Centre--To the Frontier--Assouan--Excited Officers--With - the Press Men--A Long Camel Ride--Night Marches--Halfa--Gwynne of the - “Morning Post”--Anley--A Sudden Voyage--Apricots and Rousseau. - - -It is impossible to be near great historical events and not to desire -to take part in them, or at the least to observe them. Egypt had -suddenly become the storm centre of the world, and chance had placed me -there at that moment. Clearly I could not remain in Cairo, but must get -up by hook or by crook to the frontier. It was March and the weather -would soon be too warm for my wife, but she was good enough to say that -she would wait with my sister until April if I would promise to return -by then. At that time the general idea was that some great event would -at once occur, though looking back one can see that that was hardly -possible. Anyhow I had a great urge to go South. - -There was only one way to do it. The big morning papers had their men -already upon the spot. But it was less likely that the evening papers -were provided. I cabled to the “Westminster Gazette” asking to be made -their honorary correspondent _pro tem._ I had a cable back assenting. -Armed with this I approached the proper authority, and so within a day -or two I was duly appointed and everything was in order. - -I had to make my own way up and I had to get together some sort of -kit. The latter was done hurriedly and was of fearsome quality. I -bought a huge revolver of Italian make with a hundred cartridges, an -ugly unreliable weapon. I bought also a water bottle, which was made -of new resinous wood and gave a most horrible flavour of turpentine to -everything put into it. It was like drinking varnish, but before I got -back there were times when I was ready to drink varnish or anything -else that was damp. - -With a light khaki coat, riding breeches, a small valise, and the -usual Christmas tree hung round me, I started off from Cairo by train -to Assiout, where a small river boat was waiting. It was filled with -officers going to the front, and we had a pleasant few days journeying -to Assouan together. There were, I remember, several junior officers -who have since made names in the world, Maxwell (now General Sir John -Maxwell) and Hickman, who also rose to the top. There was a young -cavalry lieutenant also, one Smythe, who seemed to me to be too gentle -and quiet for such rough work as lay ahead. The next time I heard of -him was when he was gazetted for the Victoria Cross. In soldiering -there is nothing more deceptive than appearances. Your fierce, -truculent man may always have a yellow streak where the gentle student -has a core of steel. There lay one of the many mistakes which the -Germans made later in judging those “unwarlike islanders” the British. - -The great question at the opening of the campaign was whether the -native fellah troops would stand. The five negro battalions were as -good as could be, but the record of the eight or nine Egyptian ones -was not reassuring. The Arab of the Soudan is a desperate fanatic -who rushes to death with the frenzy of a madman, and longs for close -quarters where he can bury his spear in the body of his foeman, even -though he carries several bullets in him before he reaches him. Would -the Egyptians stand such onslaughts as these? It was thought improbable -that they would, and so British battalions, the Connaughts, the -Staffords and others, were brought up to stiffen their battle line. -One great advantage the native soldiers had--and without it their case -would have been hopeless--and that was that their officers were among -the picked men of the British Army. Kitchener would have none but the -unmarried, for it was to be a wholehearted and if need be a desperate -service, and, as the pay and life were good, he could accept or reject -as he chose, so that his leaders were splendid. It was curious to see -their fair faces and flaxen moustaches under the red tarbooshes, as -they marched at the side of their men. - -The relations between these officers and their men were paternal. If -an officer of black troops came to Cairo he would go back with a -pillow case stuffed with candies for his men. The Egyptians were more -inscrutable, less sporting and less lovable, but none the less their -officers were very loyal to them, and bitterly resented the distrust -shown by the rest of the army. One British officer at some early battle -seized the enemy’s flag and cried: “Well, the English shall not have -this anyhow.” It is this spirit, whether in Egypt or in India, which -makes the British officer an ideal leader of native troops. Even at the -great Indian Mutiny they would not hear a word against their men until -they were murdered by them. - -At Assouan we were held up for a week, and no one was allowed to go -further. We were already well within the radius of the Arab raiders, -for in the last year they had struck even further north. The desert -is like the sea, for if you have the camels, which correspond to the -ships, your blow may fall anywhere and your attack is not suspected -until the moment that you appear. The crowd of British officers who -were waiting seemed little worried by any such possibility and were as -unconcerned as if it was a Cook’s tour and not a particularly dangerous -expedition--so dangerous that of the last army which went South, that -of Hicks Pasha, hardly one single man was ever seen again. Only once -did I see them really excited. I had returned to the hotel which was -the general head-quarters, and as I entered the hall I saw a crowd of -them all clustering round the notice board to read a telegram which -had just been suspended. They were on the toes of their spurred boots, -with their necks outstretched and every sign of quivering and eager -interest. “Ah,” thought I, “at last we have got through the hide of -these impenetrable men. I suppose the Khalifa is coming down, horse, -foot, and artillery, and that we are on the eve of battle.” I pushed my -way in, and thrust my head among all the bobbing sun-helmets. It was -the account of the Oxford and Cambridge Boat-race. - -I was struck by the splendid zeal of every one. It was an inspiration. -Hickman had been full of combative plans all the way on the boat. -When we arrived there was a message for him to go down to Keneh and -buy camels. Here was a drop down for a man all on fire for action. -“It is quite right,” said he, when I condoled with him. “The force -must have camels. I am the man to buy them. We all work for one -end.” Self-abnegation of this sort is general. The British officer at -his best is really a splendid fellow, a large edition of the public -schoolboy, with his cheery slang overlying a serious purpose which -he would usually die rather than admit. I heard of three of them at -rail-end, all doing essential work and all with a degree of fever on -them which might well have excused them from work altogether. Every -evening each of them dropped a dollar into a hat, they then all took -their temperatures and the highest got the pool. - -Assouan is at the foot of the Cataract, which extends for some 30 -miles, and everything has to be transhipped and taken on a narrow toy -railway to be reloaded on fresh steamers at Shellal. It was a huge -task and I remember sympathizing with Captain Morgan, who with fatigue -parties of Egyptians and chain gangs of convicts was pushing the -stuff through. Morgan had sold me a horse once and was shy of me in -consequence, but he soon saw that I bore no grudge. _Caveat emptor!_ -I already saw in him those qualities of organization which made him a -real factor both in the Boer and in the European war. He has just died -a general and full of honours. I remember seeing the 7th Egyptians -after a long gruelling desert march working at those stores until they -were so played out that it took four of them to raise a sixty-pound -biscuit box. - -The big pressmen had now arrived--“Where the carcass is there shall -the eagles, etc.”--and I had luckily made friends with them, so it was -determined that we should all go on together. There were five of us who -started out, led by Knight of the “Falcon,” representing “The Times,” -and looking not unlike a falcon himself. He was a great man, tall and -muscular, a famous yachtsman and treasure-seeker, traveller, fighter -and scholar. He had just left the French in Madagascar. Next came -Scudamore of the “Daily News,” small, Celtic, mercurial, full of wit -and go. He was a great purchaser of camels, which were of course all -paid for by the paper, so that when Robinson, the editor of the “Daily -News,” heard of the Boer war his first comment was, “Well, thank God, -there are no camels in South Africa.” It was a study in Eastern ways to -see Scudamore buying camels, and I learned from him how it is done. -An Arab leads up the absurd-looking creature. You look deprecatingly -at the beast--and you cannot take a better model than the creature’s -own expression as it looks at you. You ask how much is wanted for it. -The owner says £16. You then give a shriek of derision, sweep your arm -across as if to wave him and his camel out of your sight for ever, and -turning with a whisk you set off rapidly in the other direction. How -far you go depends upon the price asked. If it is really very high, -you may not get back for your dinner. But as a rule a hundred yards -or so meet the case, and you shape your course so as to reach the -camel and its owner. You stop in front of them and look at them with a -disinterested and surprised look to intimate that you wonder that they -should still be loitering there. The Arab asks how much you will give. -You answer £8. Then it is his turn to scream, whisk round, and do his -hundred yards, his absurd chattel with its horn-pipey legs trotting -along behind him. But he returns to say that he will take fourteen, and -off you go again with a howl and a wave. So the bargaining goes on, the -circles continually shortening, until you have settled upon the middle -price. - -But it is only when you have bought your camel that the troubles -begin. It is the strangest and most deceptive animal in the world. Its -appearance is so staid and respectable that you cannot give it credit -for the black villany that lurks within. It approaches you with a -mildly interested and superior expression, like a patrician lady in a -Sunday school. You feel that a pair of glasses at the end of a fan is -the one thing lacking. Then it puts its lips gently forward, with a -far-away look in its eyes, and you have just time to say, “The pretty -dear is going to kiss me,” when two rows of frightful green teeth clash -in front of you, and you give such a backward jump as you could never -have hoped at your age to accomplish. When once the veil is dropped, -anything more demoniacal than the face of a camel cannot be conceived. -No kindness and no length of ownership seem to make them friendly. And -yet you must make allowances for a creature which can carry 600 lb. for -20 miles a day, and ask for no water and little food at the end of it. - -This, however, is digression. The other pressmen were Beaman of the -“Standard,” fresh from Constantinople, and almost an Eastern in his -ways, and Julian Corbett, representing the “Pall Mall,” a gentle and -amiable man who was destined later to be the naval historian of the -Great War. Like myself he was an amateur among professionals, and had -to return within a given date to Cairo. - -As it was clear that nothing important could take place instantly, we -determined to do part of the journey by road. A force of cavalry was -going up, and we were ordered to join them and use them as an escort, -but we thought we would be happier on our own, and so we managed to -lose the Egyptians. There was some risk in our lonely journey along -the right bank of the river with our left flank quite unprotected, -but on the other hand the dust of a great body of horsemen would be -insufferable. Therefore we set forth one evening, mounted upon our -camels, with baggage camels in attendance, and quite a retinue of -servants. In four or five days we reached Korosko, where we got boats -which took us to the frontier at Wady Halfa, while the camels and -servants came on by land. - -I shall never forget those days, or rather those nights, for we rose at -two in the morning and our longest march was before or during the dawn. -I am still haunted by that purple velvet sky, by those enormous and -innumerable stars, by the half-moon which moved slowly above us, while -our camels with their noiseless tread seemed to bear us without effort -through a wonderful dream world. Scudamore had a beautiful rolling -baritone voice, and I can still hear it in my memory as it rose and -fell in the still desert air. It was a wonderful vision, an intermezzo -in real life, broken only once by my performing the unusual feat of -falling off a camel. I have taken many tosses off horses, but this was -a new experience. You have no proper saddle, but are seated upon a -curved leather tray, so that when my brute suddenly threw himself down -on his fore-knees--he had seen some green stuff on the path--I shot -head foremost down his neck. It was like coming down a hose pipe in -some acrobatic performance, and I reached the ground rather surprised -but otherwise none the worse. - -One or two pictures rise in mind. One was of some strange aquatic -lizard--not a crocodile--lying on a sand bank. I cracked off my Italian -revolver, which was more likely to hurt me than the lizard, and I saw -the strange beast writhe into the stream. Once again, as I settled my -couch at night, I saw a slug-like creature, with horned projections, -the length about 18 inches, which moved away and disappeared. It was -a death adder--the sort perhaps which took Cleopatra to her fathers. -Then again we went into a ruined hut to see if we could sleep there. -In the dim light of our candle we saw a creature which I thought was a -mouse rush round and round the floor, close to the wall. Then suddenly -to my amazement it ran right up the wall and down again on to the -floor. It was a huge spider, which now stood waving its fore-legs at -us. To my horror Scudamore sprang into the air, and came down upon it, -squashing it into a square foot of filth. This was the real tarantula, -a dangerous creature, and common enough in such places. - -Yet another picture comes very clearly back to me. For some reason we -had not started in the night, and the early dawn found us still resting -in our small camp in a grove of palm trees near the path which led -along the bank of the Nile. I awoke, and, lying in my blankets, I saw -an amazing man riding along this path. He was a Negroid Nubian, a huge, -fierce, hollow-cheeked creature, with many silver ornaments upon him. -A long rifle projected over his back and a sword hung from his side. A -more sinister barbaric figure one could not imagine, and he was exactly -the type of those Mahdi raiders against whom we had been warned. I -never like to be an alarmist, especially among men who had seen much -of war or danger, so I said nothing, but I managed to stir one of my -companions, who sighted the newcomer with a muttered “My God!” The man -rode past us and on northwards, never glancing at our grove. I have no -doubt that he was really one of our own native tribesmen, for we had -some in our pay; but had he been the other thing our fate would have -been sealed. I wrote a short story, “The Three Correspondents,” which -was suggested by the incident. - -A strange wooden-faced Turkish soldier, Yussuf Bey, in the Egyptian -service, commanding the troops at Korosko, had us up in audience, gave -us long pink glasses of raspberry vinegar, and finally saw us on board -the boat which in a day or two deposited us on the busy river-bank of -Wady Halfa, where the same military bustle prevailed as we had left -behind us at Assouan. - -Halfa lies also at the base of a cataract, and again all the stuff -had to be transhipped and sent on thirty miles by a little track to -Sarras. I walked the first day to the small station where the track -began and I saw a tall officer in a white jacket and red tarboosh, who -with a single orderly was superintending the work and watching the -stores pass into the trucks. He turned a fierce red face upon me and I -saw that it was Kitchener himself, the Commander of the whole army. It -was characteristic of the man that he did not leave such vital things -to chance, or to the assurance of some subordinate, but that he made -sure so far as he could with his own eyes that he really had the tools -for the job that lay before him. Learning who I was--we had met once -before on the racecourse at Cairo--he asked me to dinner in his tent -that night, when he discussed the coming campaign with great frankness. -I remember that his chief-of-staff--Drage, I think, was the name--sat -beside me and was so completely played out that he fell asleep between -every course. I remember also the amused smile with which Kitchener -regarded him. You had to go all out when you served such a master. - -One new acquaintance whom I made in those days was Herbert Gwynne, a -newly-fledged war correspondent, acting, if I remember right, for the -“Chronicle.” I saw that he had much in him. When I heard of him next -he was Reuter’s man in the Boer War, and not very long afterwards he -had become editor of the “Morning Post,” where he now is. Those days -in Halfa were the beginning of a friendship of thirty years, none the -less real because we are both too busy to meet. One of the joys of the -hereafter is, I think, that we have time to cultivate our friends. - -I was friendly also with a very small but gallant officer, one Anley, -who had just joined the Egyptian Army. His career was beginning and -I foresaw that he would rise, but should have been very surprised -had I known how we should meet again. I was standing in the ranks -by the roadside as a private of Volunteers in the Great War when a -red-tabbed, brass-hatted general passed. He looked along our ranks, -his gaze fastened on me, and lo, it was Anley. Surprised out of all -military etiquette, he smiled and nodded. What is a private in the -ranks to do when a general smiles and nods? He can’t formally stand to -attention or salute. I fear that what I did was to close and then open -my left eye. That was how I learned that my Egyptian captain was now a -war brigadier. - -We pushed on to Sarras and had a glimpse of the actual outpost of -civilization, all sandbags and barbed wire, for there was a Mahdi -post at no distance up the river. It was wonderful to look south and -to see distant peaks said to be in Dongola, with nothing but savagery -and murder lying between. There was a whiff of real war in the little -fortress but no sign of any actual advance. - -Indeed, I had the assurance of Kitchener himself that there was no use -my waiting and that nothing could possibly happen until the camels -were collected--many thousands of them. I contributed my own beast to -the army’s need since I had no further use for it, and Corbett and I -prepared to take our leave. We were warned that our only course was to -be on the look out and take a flying jump on to any empty cargo boat -which was going down stream. This we did one morning, carrying our -scanty belongings. Once on board we learned that there was no food and -that the boat did not stop for several days. The rope had not been cast -off, so I rushed to the only shop available, a Greek store of a type -which springs up like mushrooms on the track of an army. They were sold -out save for tinned apricots, of which I bought several tins. I rushed -back and scrambled on board as the boat cast off. We managed to get -some Arab bread from the boatmen, and that with the apricots served us -all the way. I never wish to see a tinned apricot so long as I live. -I associate their cloying sweetness with Rousseau’s “Confessions,” a -French edition of which came somehow into my hands and was my only -reading till I saw Assouan once more. Rousseau also I never wish to -read again. - -So that was the end of our frontier adventure. We had been on the edge -of war but not in it. It was disappointing, but it was late in April -before I reached Cairo and the heat was already becoming too much for -an invalid. A week later we were in London, and I remember that, as I -sat as a guest at the Royal Academy Banquet on May 1 of that year, I -saw upon my wrists the ragged little ulcers where the poisonous jiggers -which had burrowed into my skin while I lay upon the banks of the Nile -were hatching out their eggs under the august roof of Burlington House. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -AN INTERLUDE OF PEACE - - Hindhead--“A Duet”--A Haunted House--A Curious Society--Preternatural - Powers--The Little Doctor--The Shadow of Africa. - - -When we returned to England I found that the house in which we -hoped that the cure would be completed was not yet ready. It was a -considerable mansion planned upon a large scale, so that it was not -surprising that it had taken some time to build. We were compelled to -take a furnished house at Haslemere until the early months of 1897, -when we moved up to Moorlands, a boarding house on Hindhead close to -the site of my building. There we spent some happy and busy months -until the house was ready in the summer. I had taken up riding, and -though I was never a great horseman I was able from that time onwards -to get a good deal of health and pleasure out of it, for in that woody, -healthy country there are beautiful rides in every direction, and -the hunting, in which I joined, was at least picturesque. About June -we moved into the new house, which I called Undershaw--a new word, I -think, and yet one which described it exactly in good Anglo-Saxon, -since it stood under a hanging grove of trees. - -I have said little, during these years spent in the quest of health, -concerning my literary production. The chief book which I had written -since “The Refugees” was a study of the Regency with its bucks and -prizefighters. I had always a weakness for the old fighting men and -for the lore of the prize-ring, and I indulged it in this novel. At -the time boxing had not gained the popular vogue which I have been -told that this very book first initiated, and I can never forget the -surprise of Sir George Newnes when he found out what the new serial -was about. “Why that subject of all subjects upon earth?” he cried. -However, I think that the readers of “The Strand” found that I had not -chosen badly, and the book is one which has held a permanent place as a -picture of those wild old days. I wrote a considerable number of short -tales during those years, and finally in 1898 a domestic study, “A -Duet,” which was an attempt at quite a different form of literature--a -picture in still life, as it were. It was partly imaginative and partly -founded upon early experiences of my own and of friends. It led, I -remember, to a public bickering with a man who has done good work as -a critic, Dr. Robertson Nicoll. He took exception to some passage in -the book, which he had every right to do. But he wrote at that time -for six or seven papers, under different names, so that it appeared as -if a number of critics were all condemning me when it was really only -one. I thought I had a grievance, and said so with such vehemence that -he stated that he did not know whether to answer me in print or in the -law courts. However, it all blew over and we became very good friends. -Another book of those days was “Uncle Bernac,” which I never felt -to be satisfactory, though I venture to claim that the two chapters -which portray Napoleon give a clearer picture of him than many a long -book has done, which is natural enough, since they are themselves the -quintessence of a score of books. - -So much for my work. I had everything in those few years to make a -man contented, save only the constant illness of my partner. And yet -my soul was often troubled within me. I felt that I was born for -something else, and yet I was not clear what that something might be. -My mind felt out continually into the various religions of the world. I -could no more get into the old ones, as commonly received, than a man -could get into his boy’s suit. I still argued on materialist lines. I -subscribed to the Rationalist Association and read all their literature -carefully, but it was entirely destructive and one cannot permanently -live on that alone. Besides, I was sure enough of psychic phenomena to -be aware that there was a range of experience there which was entirely -beyond any rational explanation, and that therefore a system which -ignored a great body of facts, and was incompatible with them, was -necessarily an imperfect system. On the other hand, convinced as I was -of these abnormal happenings, and that intelligence, high or low, lay -behind them, I by no means understood their bearing. I still confused -the knocking at the door with the friend outside, or the ringing of the -bell with the telephone message. Sometimes I had the peace of despair, -when one felt that one could never possibly arrive at any conclusions -save negative ones, and then again some fresh impulse of the soul would -start one upon a new quest. In every direction, I reached out, but -never yet with any absolute satisfaction. I should have been relieved -from all my troubles could I have given heartfelt adhesion to any form -of orthodoxy--but my reason always barred the way. - -During all the Egyptian and other periods of our exile I had never -ceased to take the psychic subject very seriously, to read eagerly -all that I could get, and from time to time to organize séances which -gave indifferent but not entirely negative results, though we had no -particular medium to help us. The philosophy of the subject began -slowly to unfold, and it was gradually made more feasible, not only -that life carried on, enclosed in some more tenuous envelope, but that -the conditions which it encountered in the beyond were not unlike those -which it had known here. So far I had got along the road, but the -overwhelming and vital importance of it all had not yet been borne in -upon me. - -Now and then I had a psychic experience somewhat outside the general -run of such events. One of these occurred when I was at Norwood in -1892 or 1893. I was asked by the Society of Psychic Research whether I -would join a small committee to sit in and report upon a haunted house -at Charmouth in Dorchester. I went down accordingly together with a -Dr. Scott and Mr. Podmore, a man whose name was associated with such -investigations. I remember that it took us the whole railway journey -from Paddington to read up the evidence as to the senseless noises -which had made life unendurable for the occupants, who were tied by a -lease and could not get away. We sat up there two nights. On the first -nothing occurred. On the second Dr. Scott left us and I sat up with Mr. -Podmore. We had, of course, taken every precaution to checkmate fraud, -putting worsted threads across the stairs, and so on. - -In the middle of the night a fearsome uproar broke out. It was like -some one belabouring a resounding table with a heavy cudgel. It was -not an accidental creaking of wood, or anything of that sort, but a -deafening row. We had all doors open, so we rushed at once into the -kitchen, from which the sound had surely come. There was nothing -there--doors were all locked, windows barred, and threads unbroken. -Podmore took away the light and pretended that we had both returned to -our sitting-room, going off with the young master of the house, while -I waited in the dark in the hope of a return of the disturbance. None -came--or ever did come. What occasioned it we never knew. It was of the -same character as all the other disturbances we had read about, but -shorter in time. But there was a sequel to the story. Some years later -the house was burned down, which may or may not have a bearing upon the -sprite which seemed to haunt it, but a more suggestive thing is that -the skeleton of a child about ten years old was dug up in the garden. -This I give on the authority of a relation of the family who were so -plagued. The suggestion was that the child had been done to death there -long ago, and that the subsequent phenomena of which we had one small -sample were in some way a sequence to this tragedy. There is a theory -that a young life cut short in sudden and unnatural fashion may leave, -as it were, a store of unused vitality which may be put to strange -uses. The unknown and the marvellous press upon us from all sides. They -loom above us and around us in undefined and fluctuating shapes, some -dark, some shimmering, but all warning us of the limitations of what -we call matter, and of the need for spirituality if we are to keep in -touch with the true inner facts of life. - -I was never asked for a report of this case, but Podmore sent one -in, attributing the noises to the young man, though as a fact he was -actually sitting with us in the parlour when the tumult broke out. A -confederate was possible, though we had taken every step to bar it, -but the explanation given was absolutely impossible. I learned from -this, what I have often confirmed since, that while we should be most -critical of all psychic assertions, if we are to get at the truth, -we should be equally critical of all negatives and especially of -so-called “exposures” in this subject. Again and again I have probed -them and found them to depend upon prejudice or upon an imperfect -acquaintance with psychic law. - -This brings me to another curious experience which occurred about -this time, probably in 1898. There was a small doctor dwelling near -me, small in stature, and also, I fear, in practice, whom I will call -Brown. He was a student of the occult, and my curiosity was aroused -by learning that he had one room in his house which no one entered -except himself, as it was reserved for mystic and philosophic purposes. -Finding that I was interested in such subjects, Dr. Brown suggested -one day that I should join a secret society of esoteric students. The -invitation had been led up to by a good deal of preparatory inquiry. -The dialogue between us ran somewhat thus: - -“What shall I get from it?” - -“In time, you will get powers.” - -“What sort of powers?” - -“They are powers which people would call supernatural. They are -perfectly natural, but they are got by knowledge of deeper forces of -nature.” - -“If they are good, why should not every one know them?” - -“They would be capable of great abuse in the wrong hands.” - -“How can you prevent their getting into wrong hands?” - -“By carefully examining our initiates.” - -“Should I be examined?” - -“Certainly.” - -“By whom?” - -“The people would be in London.” - -“Should I have to present myself?” - -“No, no, they would do it without your knowledge.” - -“And after that?” - -“You would then have to study.” - -“Study what?” - -“You would have to learn by heart a considerable mass of material. That -would be the first thing.” - -“If this material is in print, why does it not become public property?” - -“It is not in print. It is in manuscript. Each manuscript is carefully -numbered and trusted to the honour of a passed initiate. We have never -had a case of one going wrong.” - -“Well,” said I, “it is very interesting and you can go ahead with the -next step, whatever it may be.” - -Some little time later--it may have been a week--I awoke in the very -early morning with a most extraordinary sensation. It was not a -nightmare or any prank of a dream. It was quite different from that, -for it persisted after I was wide awake. I can only describe it by -saying that I was tingling all over. It was not painful, but it was -queer and disagreeable, as a mild electric shock would be. I thought at -once of the little doctor. - -In a few days I had a visit from him. “You have been examined and -you have passed,” said he with a smile. “Now you must say definitely -whether you will go on with it. You can’t take it up and drop it. It is -serious, and you must leave it alone or go forward with a whole heart.” - -It began to dawn upon me that it really was serious, so serious -that there seemed no possible space for it in my very crowded and -pre-occupied life. I said as much, and he took it in very good part. -“Very well,” said he, “we won’t talk of it any more unless you change -your mind.” - -There was a sequel to the story. A month or two later, on a pouring -wet day, the little doctor called, bringing with him another medical -man whose name was familiar to me in connection with exploration and -tropical service. They sat together beside my study fire and talked. -One could not but observe that the famous and much-travelled man was -very deferential to the little country surgeon, who was the younger of -the two. - -“He is one of my initiates,” said the latter to me. “You know,” he -continued, turning to his companion, “Doyle nearly joined us once.” The -other looked at me with great interest and then at once plunged into a -conversation with his mentor as to the wonders he had seen and, as I -understood, actually done. I listened amazed. It sounded like the talk -of two lunatics. One phrase stuck in my memory. - -“When first you took me up with you,” said he, “and we were hovering -over the town I used to live in, in Central Africa, I was able for the -first time to see the islands out in the lake. I always knew they -were there, but they were too far off to be seen from the shore. Was -it not extraordinary that I should first see them when I was living in -England?” - -“Yes,” said Brown, smoking his pipe and staring into the fire. “We had -some fun in those days. Do you remember how you laughed when we made -the little steamboat and it ran along the upper edge of the clouds?” - -There were other remarks as wild. “A conspiracy to impress a -simpleton,” says the sceptic. Well, we can leave it at that if the -sceptic so wills, but I remain under the impression that I brushed -against something strange, and something which I am not sorry that I -avoided. It was not Spiritualism and it was not Theosophy, but rather -the acquisition of powers latent in the human organization, after the -alleged fashion of the old gnostics or of some modern fakirs in India, -though some doubtless would spell fakirs with an “e.” One thing I am -very sure of, and that is that morals and ethics have to keep pace with -knowledge, or all is lost. The Maori cannibals had psychic knowledge -and power, but were man-eaters none the less. Christian _ethics_ can -never lose its place whatever expansion our psychic faculties may -enjoy. But Christian theology can and will. - -To return to the little doctor, I came across him again, as psychic -as ever, in Portland, Oregon, in 1923. From what I learned I should -judge that the powers of the Society to which he belonged included -that of loosening their own etheric bodies, in summoning the etheric -bodies of others (mine, for example) and in making thought images (the -steamboat) in the way that we are assured is possible by will-power. -But their line of philosophy or development is beyond me. I believe -they represent a branch of the Rosicrucians. - -All seemed placid at this time. My wife was holding her own in winter -as well as in summer. The two children, Mary and Kingsley, were passing -through the various sweet phases of human development, and brought -great happiness into our lives. The country was lovely. My life was -filled with alternate work and sport. As with me so with the nation. -They were years of prosperity and success. But the shadow of South -Africa was falling upon England, and before it passed my personal -fortunes, as well as so many more, were destined to be involved in it. -I had a deep respect for the Boers and some fear of their skill at -arms, their inaccessible situation, and their sturdy Teutonic tenacity. -I foresaw that they would be a most dangerous enemy, and I watched -with horror the drift of events which from the time of the ill-judged -Jameson Raid never ceased to lead to open war. It was almost a relief -when at last it came and we could clearly see the magnitude of our -task. And yet few people understood it at the time. On the very eve of -war I took the chair at a dinner to Lord Wolseley at the Authors’ Club -and he declared that we could send two divisions to Africa. The papers -next day were all much exercised as to whether such a force was either -possible to collect or necessary to send. What would they have thought -had they been told that a quarter of a million men, a large proportion -of them cavalry, would be needed before victory could be won. The early -Boer victories surprised no one who knew something of South African -history, and they made it clear to every man in England that it was -not a wine glass but a rifle which one must grasp if the health of the -Empire was to be honoured. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE START FOR SOUTH AFRICA - - The Black Week--Volunteering--The Langman Hospital--The Voyage-- - Bloemfontein--Sir Claude de Crespigny--The Epidemic--Advance to the - Water Works. - - -From December 10 to 17, 1899, was the black week for England. In that -week General Gatacre lost a battle at Stormberg, Lord Methuen lost -one at Magersfontein and General Buller lost one at Colenso. The -three together would not have made more than a minor action in the -great war to come, but at the time it seemed portentous. There were -ominous stirrings on the Continent also and rumours of a coalition. It -was lucky for us that the German fleet was not yet in being and that -our own was able to keep the ring, or we should soon have had some -Lafayette in South Africa with perhaps a Yorktown to follow. However, -it was bad enough as it was, but the nation as usual rose splendidly to -the occasion, and every one hastened to do what they could. Hence it -was that I found myself early one morning at Hounslow--if I remember -right--standing in a long queue of men who were waiting to enlist in -the Middlesex Yeomanry. I had one or two friends in the regiment and -hence my choice. - -The Colonel, a grizzled soldier, sat behind a deal table in an orderly -room and dealt swiftly with the applicants. He had no idea who I was, -but seeing a man of forty before him he intimated that I surely did -not intend to go into the ranks. I said that I was prepared to take a -commission. He asked if I could ride and shoot. I said that I could -do both in moderation. He asked if I had had military experience. I -said that I had led an adventurous life and seen a little of military -operations in the Soudan, which was stretching it about as far as it -would go. Two white lies are permitted to a gentleman, to screen a -woman, or to get into a fight when the fight is a rightful one. So I -trust I may be forgiven. - -However the Colonel would only put me on his waiting list, took my -name, still without recognizing me, and passed on to the next case. I -departed somewhat crestfallen and unsettled, not knowing whether I had -heard the last of the matter or not. Almost immediately afterwards, -however, I received an offer which took me out in a capacity which was -less sporting but probably in my case and at my age a good deal more -useful. This came from my friend John Langman, whose son Archie I had -known well in Davos days. Langman was sending out a hospital of fifty -beds at his own expense to Africa, and had already chosen his staff -of surgeons but not his personnel. Archie Langman was to go with the -Hospital as general manager. Langman’s idea was that I should help -him to choose the personnel, that I should be a supplementary medico, -and that I should exercise a general supervision over the whole in an -unofficial capacity. To all this I agreed and spent a week at his house -at Stanhope Terrace choosing from many candidates those who seemed the -most likely. On the whole they proved to be a worthy choice. There were -many things to be done, and in the middle of them I received a note -reopening the question of the Yeomanry, but by this time I was entirely -committed to the Langman Hospital. - -When we were complete we were quite a good little unit, but our -weakness was unfortunately at the head. Dr. O’Callaghan had been a -personal friend of Langman’s and had thus got the senior billet, but -he was in truth an excellent gynæcologist, which is a branch of the -profession for which there seemed to be no immediate demand. He was a -man too who had led a sedentary life and was not adapted, with all the -will in the world, for the trying experience which lay before us. He -realized this himself and returned to England after a short experience -of South African conditions. We were compelled to have one military -chief, as a bond with the War Office, and this proved to be one Major -Drury, a most amusing Irishman who might have come right out of Lever. -To leave the service and to “marry a rich widow with a cough” was, he -said, the height of his ambition. He was a very pleasant companion in -civil life, but when it came to duties which needed tact and routine -he was rather too Celtic in his methods, and this led to friction and -occasional rows in which I had to sustain the point of view of Mr. -Langman. I have no doubt he thought me an insubordinate dog, and I -thought him--well, he has passed away now, and I remember him best as a -very amusing companion. - -Under O’Callaghan and Drury were two really splendid younger surgeons, -Charles Gibbs and Scharlieb, the latter the son of the well-known -lady doctor. They were as good as they could be. Then we had our -ward-masters, cooks, stewards, storekeepers, and finally some fifteen -to twenty orderlies. Altogether we numbered just fifty men, and were -splendidly fitted out by the generosity of Mr. Langman. - -A month or two passed before we could get away, and I remember one -amusing incident which occurred during that time. I had spent a good -deal of thought over the problem how best to attack men who lay -concealed behind cover. My conclusions were that it was useless to fire -at them direct, since, if they knew their business, very little of them -would be vulnerable. On the other hand, if one could turn a rifle into -a portable howitzer and drop a bullet with any sort of rough general -accuracy within a given area, then it seemed to me that life would -hardly be possible within that area. If, for example, the position was -20,000 square yards in size, and 20,000 rifles were dropping bullets -upon it, each square yard would sooner or later be searched and your -mark would be a whole prostrate or crouching body. What I was really -evolving, though I could not know it, was the machine gun barrage of -dropping or vertical fire as practised in the Great War. My principles -were absolutely right and have not even yet received their full -application. I wrote an article to “The Times” explaining my views, but -so far as I know it had no results. - -Meanwhile I was practising how to turn a rifle into a howitzer. I -fastened a large needle at the end of a thread to the back sight. When -the gun pointed straight up in the air the needle swung down across the -stock and I marked the spot. Then the idea was to tilt the gun slowly -forward, marking advances of 200, 400 and so on in the range, so that -you had a dial marked on the stock and could always by letting the -needle fall across the correct mark on the dial drop the bullet within -a certain distance. - -But the crux was to discover the exact ranges. To do this I went down -to Frensham Pond and, standing among the reeds and tilting the gun -very slightly forward, I pulled the trigger. The bullet very nearly -fell upon my own head. I could not locate it, but I heard quite a loud -thud. But what amazed me, and still amazes me, was the time it took. I -counted fifty seconds on my watch between the discharge and the fall. I -don’t wonder if the reader is incredulous. I feel incredulous also, but -such is the fact as I recorded it. - -My idea was to mark the bullet splashes on the calm water of the lake, -but though I fired and fired at various angles not a splash could I -see. Finally a little man who may have been an artist broke in upon my -solitude. - -“Do you want to know where those bullets are going?” - -“Yes, sir, I do.” - -“Then I can tell you, sir, for they have been dropping all round _me_.” - -I felt that unless my howitzer was to claim its first victim on the -spot I had better stop. It was clear that the light bullet with so -heavy a charge went so high into the atmosphere that one lost all -command over it. Twice the weight and half the charge would have served -my purpose better. Then came other calls and I could never work it out, -but I am very sure that with a little care in detail I could have got a -converging fire which would have cleared any kopje in South Africa. - -As I was convinced that the idea was both practical and much needed I -communicated full particulars to the War Office. Here is the letter I -had in reply. - - WAR OFFICE, - - _Feb. 16, 1900_. - - SIR,-- - - With reference to your letter concerning an appliance for adapting - rifles to high angle fire I am directed by the Secretary of State for - War to inform you that he will not trouble you in the matter. - - I am, Sir, Your Obedient Servant, - - (Signature illegible), - - Director General of Ordnance. - - -Thus, whether my invention was nonsense or whether it was, as I -believe, radical and epoch-making, I was given no chance to explain or -to illustrate it. As I remarked in “The Times:” “No wonder that we find -the latest inventions in the hands of our enemies rather than ourselves -if those who try to improve our weapons meet with such encouragement -as I have done.” Our traditions were carried on in the Great War, for -Pomeroy, the inventor of the inflammable bullet which brought down the -Zeppelins, was about to return to New Zealand in despair, and it was, -as I am assured, private and not official bullets which first showed -how valuable was his discovery and forced a belated acceptance by the -War Office. - -At last our time drew near. My wife had gone to Naples, where it was -hoped that the warmer climate would complete her cure. My affairs were -all settled up. I was to go as an unpaid man, and I contributed my -butler Cleeve, a good intelligent man for the general use, paying him -myself. In this way I retained my independence and could return when I -felt that the time had come--which, as events turned out, proved to be -very valuable to me. - -We were reviewed by the old Duke of Cambridge in some drill-hall in -London. There befell me on this occasion one of those quaint happenings -which seem to me to have been more common in my life than in that of -most other men. We were drawn up in our new khaki uniforms, and wearing -our tropical helmets, for the Royal Duke’s inspection. If we had been -asked to form fours we should have broken down completely, but luckily -we were placed in double line and so we remained. I was standing in -front on the right flank. With my eyes fixed rigidly before me I was -still able out of the corner of them to be aware that the old Duke, -with his suite, was coming across to begin at my end. Presently he -halted in front of me, and stood motionless. I remained quite rigid, -looking past him. He continued to stand, so near me that I could hear -and almost feel his puffy breath. “What on earth!” I wondered, but I -gave no sign. At last he spoke. “What is this?” he asked. Then louder, -“What is this?” and finally, in a sort of ecstasy, “What _is_ it?” I -never moved an eyelash, but one of a group of journalists upon my -right went into hysterical but subdued laughter. There was whispering -among the suite, something was explained, and the funny old man passed -on. But did ever Lever in his maddest moment represent that his hero on -the first day of wearing uniform should have such an experience with -the ex-Commander-in-Chief of the British army and the uncle of the -Queen? - -It seems that what was worrying the dear old gentleman--he was about -eighty at the time--was that my tunic buttons had no mark upon them, a -thing which he had never seen in Her Majesty’s Army. Even a crown or a -star would do, but no mark at all completely upset him, for he was a -great stickler for correct military clothing. So, of course, was King -Edward. A friend of mine at a ball in India (royalty being present) was -swooped down upon by a very agitated aide-de-camp who began: “His Royal -Highness desires me to say ...” and went on to point out some defect -in his dress kit. My friend answered: “I will mention the matter to my -tailor,” which was, I think, an admirable way of quietly putting the -matter into its true perspective. - -On this occasion we officers all filed up to be presented and the -old Duke made amends by blurting out some very kindly things, for it -seems that he greatly approved of my wooden soldier attitude, in spite -of my reprehensible buttons. He had a day of agitations, for on the -top of the buttons one of the curtains of the hotel took fire during -our luncheon at Claridge’s, and there was great excitement for a few -moments. He made, I remember, an extremely indiscreet speech in which -he said: “They turned me off because they said I was too old, but old -as I am I wouldn’t have been such a fool as to----” and then he strung -off a number of things which Lord Wolseley, his successor, was supposed -to have done. The press was merciful and did not report. - -We sailed on February 28, 1900, from Tilbury, in the chartered -transport _Oriental_, carrying with us a mixed lot of drafts, and -picking up the Royal Scots Militia at Queenstown, where a noisy -Irishwoman threw a white towel on board, crying, “You may be afther -finding it useful.” The Scots were a rather rough crowd with a number -of territorial magnates, Lord Henry Scott, Lord Tewkesbury, Lord -Newport, Lord Brackley and others among their officers. Colonel Garstin -of the Middlesex was in general command of the whole of us. The -monotony of the three weeks’ voyage was broken only by a cricket match -at the Cape de Verdes, by a lecture on the war which I delivered on -deck under a tropical moon to all hands, and to an enteric inoculation, -which was voluntary but should have been compulsory, for even as it was -it saved many lives, and I am not sure that my own was not among them. -The Great War has shown for ever how effective this treatment is. We -lost more from enteric than from the bullet in South Africa, and it is -sad to think that nearly all could have been saved had Almroth Wright’s -discovery been properly appreciated. His brother was on board, I -remember--an officer of Sappers--and took the virus particularly badly, -though all of us were quite bad enough, for the right dose had not yet -been accurately determined. - -On the evening of March 21 we reached Capetown and found the bay full -of shipping. There were fifty large steamers at anchor--mostly empty. -Some of us had a run ashore, but we had some trouble getting on board -again, for there was a big swell and the little tug dare not come quite -alongside. We had to jump therefore from the paddle-box as the roll -favoured us, landing on a hanging ladder, where a quartermaster seized -us. To some people such a feat is easy, while others evidently regarded -it with horror, and I wondered that we escaped from having some -tragedy. The only real mishap was a strange one. A row of soldier faces -was looking down on us over the bulwarks, when I saw the grin upon one -of them change to a look of horrible agony and he gave a wild scream. -He still remained standing, but several men ran towards him, and then -he disappeared. Only afterwards did I learn that a huge iron bar had in -some way fallen upon his foot, pinning him to the place. He fainted as -they disengaged him, and was carried below with his bones crushed. - -I spent next day ashore, with the Mount Nelson Hotel as my -head-quarters. It was full of a strange medley of wounded officers, -adventuresses and cosmopolitans. Kitchener came down and cleared it out -shortly afterwards, for the syrens were interfering with his fighting -men. The general war news was very good. Paardeburg had been fought, -Lord Roberts had made his way to Bloemfontein and Kimberley had been -relieved by French, whose immediate return to head off Cronje was one -of the inspired incidents of the war. It was a consolation to find that -Boers really could be captured in large numbers, for their long run of -successes while the conditions were in their favour was getting badly -upon the public nerves and a legendary sort of atmosphere was beginning -to build up around them. - -Some money had been given me for charitable purposes when I was in -London, so I went down to the camp of the Boer prisoners to see if I -could spend some of it. It was a racecourse, pent in with barbed wire, -and they were certainly a shaggy, dirty, unkempt crowd but with the -bearing of free men. There were a few cruel or brutal faces, some of -them half caste, but most were good honest fellows and the general -effect was formidable. There were some who were maned like lions. I -afterwards went into the tents of the sick Boers. Several were sitting -sullenly round and one was raving in delirium, saying something in his -frenzy which set all the others laughing in a mirthless way. One man -sat in a corner with a proud dark face and brooding eagle eyes. He -bowed with grave courtesy when I put down some money for cigarettes. A -Huguenot, or I am mistaken. - -We had been waiting for orders and now we suddenly left Capetown on -March 26, reaching East London on the 28th. There we disembarked, -and I was surprised to find Leo Trevor, of amateur theatrical fame, -acting as transport officer. In spite of his efforts (I hope it was -not through them) our hospital stuff was divided between two trains, -and when we reached Bloemfontein after days of travel we found that -the other half had wandered off and was engulfed in the general chaos. -There were nights of that journey which I shall never forget--the great -train roaring through the darkness, the fires beside the line, the dark -groups silhouetted against the flames, the shouts of “Who are you?” and -the crash of voices as our mates cried back, “The Camerons,” for this -famous regiment was our companion. Wonderful is the atmosphere of war. -When the millennium comes the world will gain much, but it will lose -its greatest thrill. - -It is a strange wild place, the veldt, with its vast green plains and -peculiar flat-topped hills, relics of some extraordinary geological -episode. It is poor pasture--a sheep to two acres--so it must always -be sparsely inhabited. Little white farms, each with its eucalyptus -grove and its dam, were scattered over it. When we crossed the Free -State border by a makeshift bridge, beside the ruins of the old one, we -noticed that many of these little houses were flying the white flag. -Every one seemed very good-humoured, burghers and soldiers alike, but -the guerilla war afterwards altered all that. - -It was April 2, and 5 a.m. when we at last reached the capital of the -Free State, and were dumped down outside the town in a great green -expanse covered with all sorts of encampments and animals. There was -said to be a large force of Boers close to the town, and they had cut -up one of our columns a few days before at Sanna’s Post. Some troops -were moving out, so I, with Gwynne whom I had known in Egypt, and that -great sportsman, Claude de Crespigny, set forth to see what we could, -an artilleryman lending me his led horse. There was nothing doing, -however, for it was Brother Boer’s way never to come when you wanted -him and always when you didn’t. Save for good company, I got nothing -out of a long hot day. - -Good company is always one of the solaces of a campaign. I ran across -many old friends, some soldiers, some medicos, some journalists. -Knight of the “Falcon” had, alas, been hit in an early battle and was -in hospital. Julian Ralph, a veteran American correspondent, Bennett -Burleigh the rugged old war horse, queer little Melton Prior who looked -like the prim headmaster of a conventional school, dark-eyed Donohue -of the “Chronicle,” Paterson the Australian, of Snowy River fame, they -were a wonderful set of men. I had little time to enjoy their society, -however, for among the miles of loaded trucks which lay at the endless -sidings I had to my great joy discovered the missing half of our -equipment and guided a fatigue party down to it. All day we laboured -and before evening our beds were up and our hospital ready for duty. -Two days later wagons of sick and wounded began to disgorge at our -doors and the real work had begun. - -[Illustration: STAFF OF THE LANGMAN HOSPITAL, SOUTH AFRICA, 1900.] - -We had been given the cricket field as our camp and the fine pavilion -as our chief ward. Others were soon erected, for we had plenty of -tents--one each for our own use and a marquee for the mess. We were -ready for any moderate strain, but that which was put upon us was -altogether beyond our strength and for a month we had a rather awful -time. The first intimation of trouble came to me in a simple and -dramatic way. We had a bath in the pavilion and I had gone up to it -and turned the tap, but not a drop of water appeared, though it had -been running freely the night before. This small incident was the first -intimation that the Boers had cut the water supply of the town, which -caused us to fall back upon the old wells, which in turn gave rise to -an outbreak of enteric which cost us 5,000 lives. The one great blot -in Lord Roberts’ otherwise splendid handling of the campaign was, in -my opinion, that he did not buzz out at once with every man he could -raise, and relieve the water works, which were only 20 miles away. -Instead of this he waited for his army to recuperate, and so exposed -them to the epidemic. However, it is always easy to be wise after the -event. - -The outbreak was a terrible one. It was softened down for public -consumption and the press messages were heavily censored, but we lived -in the midst of death--and death in its vilest, filthiest form. Our -accommodation was for fifty patients, but 120 were precipitated upon -us, and the floor was littered between the beds with sick and often -dying men. Our linen and utensils were never calculated for such a -number, and as the nature of the disease causes constant pollution, -and this pollution of the most dangerous character and with the -vilest effluvia, one can imagine how dreadful was the situation. The -worst surgical ward after a battle would be a clean place compared to -that pavilion. At one end was a stage with the scene set for “H.M.S. -Pinafore.” This was turned into latrines for those who could stagger -so far. The rest did the best they could, and we did the best we could -in turn. But a Verestschagin would have found a subject in that awful -ward, with the rows of emaciated men, and the silly childish stage -looking down upon it all. In the very worst of it two nursing sisters -appeared among us, and never shall I forget what angels of light they -appeared, or how they nursed those poor boys, swaddling them like -babies and meeting every want with gentle courage. Thank God, they both -came through safe. - -Four weeks may seem a short time in comfort, but it is a very long -one under conditions such as those, amid horrible sights and sounds -and smells, while a haze of flies spread over everything, covering -your food and trying to force themselves into your mouth--every one of -them a focus of disease. It was bad enough when we had a full staff, -but soon the men began to wilt under the strain. They were nearly all -from the Lancashire cotton mills, little, ill-nourished fellows but -with a great spirit. Of the fifteen twelve contracted the disease and -added to the labours of the survivors. Three died. Fortunately we of -the staff were able to keep going, and we were reinforced by a Dr. -Schwartz of Capetown. The pressure was great, but we were helped by the -thought that the greater the work the more we proved the necessity of -our presence in Africa. Above all, our labours were lightened by the -splendid stuff that we had for patients. It was really glorious to see -the steady patience with which they bore their sufferings. The British -soldier may grouse in days of peace, but I never heard a murmur when he -was faced with this loathsome death. - -Our hospital was no worse off than the others, and as there were many -of them the general condition of the town was very bad. Coffins were -out of the question, and the men were lowered in their brown blankets -into shallow graves at the average rate of sixty a day. A sickening -smell came from the stricken town. Once when I had ridden out to get -an hour or two of change, and was at least six miles from the town -the wind changed and the smell was all around me. You could smell -Bloemfontein long before you could see it. Even now if I felt that low -deathly smell, compounded of disease and disinfectants, my heart would -sink within me. - -At last there came the turn. The army had moved on. Hospitals up the -line absorbed some of the cases. Above all the water works had been -retaken, and with hardly any resistance. I went out with the force -which was to retake it, and slept for the night in a thin coat under -a wagon, an experience which left me colder than I can ever remember -being in my life--a cold which was not only on the surface, but like -some solid thing within you. Next morning there was every prospect of -a battle, for we had been shelled the night before and it looked as -if the position would be held, so Ian Hamilton, who commanded, made a -careful advance. However, there was no resistance, and save for some -figures watching us from distant hills there was no sign of the enemy. -He had slipped away in the night. - -In the advance we passed over the Drift at Sanna’s Post where the -disaster had occurred some weeks before. The poor artillery horses were -still lying in heaps where they had been shot down, and the place was -covered with every kind of litter--putties, cholera belts, haversacks, -and broken helmets. There were great numbers of Boer cartridge papers -which were all marked “Split Bullets. Manufactured for the Use of the -British Government, London.” What the meaning of this was, or where -they came from, I cannot imagine, for certainly our fellows had always -the solid Lee-Metford bullet, as I can swear after inspecting many a -belt. It sounded like some ingenious trick to excuse atrocities, and -yet on the whole the Boer was a fair and good-humoured fighter until -near the close of the war. - -The move of Hamilton’s was really the beginning of the great advance, -and having cleared the water works he turned north and became the right -wing of the army. On his left was Tucker’s 7th Division, then Kelly -Kenny’s 6th Division, Pole-Carew’s 1st Division, including the Guards, -and finally a great horde of mounted infantry, including the Yeomanry, -the Colonial and the Irregular Corps. This was the great line which set -forth early in May to sweep up from Bloemfontein to Pretoria. Things -had become more quiet at the hospital and presently Archie Langman and -I found a chance to get away and to join the army at the first stage -of its advance. I wrote our experience out while it was still fresh in -my mind, and the reader will forgive me if I reproduce some of this, -as it is likely to be more vivid and more detailed than the blurred -impression now left in my memory after more than twenty years. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -DAYS WITH THE ARMY - - Pole-Carew--Tucker--Snipers--The Looted Farm--Taking of - Brandfort--Artillery Engagement--Advance of the Guards-- - The Wounded Scout--The Dead Australian--Return. - - -Stand in the pass at Karee, and look north in the clear fresh morning -air! Before you lies a great plain, dull green, with white farmhouses -scattered here and there. One great donga slashes it across. Distant -hills bound it on all sides, and at the base of those in front, dimly -seen, are a line of houses and a steeple. This is Brandfort, ten miles -off, and we are advancing to attack it. - -The troops are moving forward, line after line of red faces and khaki, -with rumbling columns of guns. Two men sit their horses beside us on -a knoll, and stare with their glasses at the distant houses. Gallant -figures both of them; the one spruce, debonnaire, well-groomed, with -laughing eyes and upward-curved moustache, a suggestion of schoolboy -mischief about his handsome face; the other, grim, fierce, all nose -and eyebrow, white scales of sun-dried skin hanging from his brick-red -face. The first is Pole-Carew, General of Division; the second is -Brigadier Stephenson. We are finding our men, and these are among them. - -Here is another man worth noting. You could not help noting him if -you tried. A burly, broad-shouldered man, with full, square, black -beard over his chest, his arm in a sling, his bearing a medieval -knight-errant. It is Crabbe, of the Grenadier Guards. He reins his -horse for an instant while his Guardsmen stream past him. - -“I’ve had my share--four bullets already. Hope I won’t get another -to-day.” - -“You should be in hospital.” - -“Ah, there I must venture to disagree with you.” He rides on with his -men. - -Look at the young officers of the Guards, the dandies of Mayfair. No -carpet soldiers, these, but men who have spent six months upon the -veldt, and fought from Belmont to Bloemfontein. Their walk is dainty, -their putties are well rolled--there is still the suggestion of the -West End. - -If you look with your glasses on the left you may see movement on the -farthest skyline. That is Hutton’s Mounted Infantry, some thousands of -them, to turn the flank of any resistance. As far as you can see to -the right is Tucker’s Division. Beyond that again are Ian Hamilton’s -Mounted Infantry and French’s Cavalry. The whole front is a good thirty -miles, and 35,000 men go to the making of it. - -Now we advance over the great plain, the infantry in extended order, -a single company covering half a mile. Look at the scouts and the -flankers--we should not have advanced like that six months ago. It is -not our additional numbers so much as our new warcraft which makes us -formidable. The big donga is only 2,000 yards off now, so we halt and -have a good look at it. Guns are unlimbered--just as well to be ready. -Pole-Carew rides up like a schoolboy on a holiday. - -“Who’s seen old Tucker?” I hear him say, with his glasses to his eyes. -He had sent a message to the scouts. “There now, look at that aide -of mine. He has galloped along the donga to see if any Boers are in -it. What right had he to do that? When I ask him he will say that he -thought I was there.... Halloa, you, sir, why don’t you come back -straight?” - -“I did, sir.” - -“You didn’t. You rode along that donga.” - -“I thought you were there, sir.” - -“Don’t add lying to your other vices.” - -The aide came grinning back. “I was fired at, but I dare not tell the -old man.” - -Rap! Rap! Rap! Rifles in front. Every one pricks up his ears. Is it the -transient sniper or the first shot of a battle? The shots come from the -farmhouse yonder. The 83rd Field Battery begin to fidget about their -guns. The officer walks up and down and stares at the farmhouse. From -either side two men pull out lines of string and give long, monotonous -cries. They are the range-finders. A gunner on the limber is deep in a -sixpenny magazine, absorbed, his chin on his hand. - -“Our scouts are past the house,” says an officer. - -“That’s all right,” says the major. - -The battery limbers up and the whole force advances to the farmhouse. -Off-saddle and a halt for luncheon. - -Halloa! Here are new and sinister developments. A Tommy drives a smart -buggy and pair out of the yard, looted for the use of the army. The -farm is prize of war, for have they not fired at our troops? They -could not help the firing, poor souls, but still this sniping must be -discouraged. We are taking off our gloves at last over this war. But -the details are not pretty. - -A frightened girl runs out. - -“Is it right that they kill fowls?” Alas! the question is hardly worth -debating, for the fowls are dead. Erect and indignant, the girl drives -in her three young turkeys. Men stare at her curiously, but she and her -birds are not molested. - -Here is something worse. A fat white pig all smothered in blood runs -past. A soldier meets it, his bayonet at the charge. He lunges and -lunges again, and the pig screams horribly. I had rather see a man -killed. Some are up in the loft throwing down the forage. Others root -up the vegetables. One drinks milk out of a strange vessel, amid the -laughter of his comrades. It is a grotesque and medieval scene. - -The General rides up, but he has no consolation for the women. “The -farm has brought it upon itself.” He rides away again. - -A parson rides up. “I can’t imagine why they don’t burn it,” says he. - -A little Dutch boy stares with large, wondering grey eyes. He will tell -all this to his grandchildren when we are in our graves. - -“War is a terrible thing,” says the mother, in Dutch. The Tommies, with -curious eyes, cluster round the doors and windows, staring in at the -family. There is no individual rudeness. - -One Kaffir enters the room. “A Kaffir!” cries the girl, with blazing -eyes. - -“Yes, a Kaffir,” says he defiantly--but he left. - -“They won’t burn the house, will they?” cries the mother. - -“No, no,” we answer; “they will not burn the house.” - -We advance again after lunch, the houses and steeple much nearer. - -Boom! Boom! Boom! Cannon at last! - -But it is far away, over at Tucker’s side. There are little white puffs -on the distant green hills. Those are shells bursting. If you look -through your glasses you will see--eight miles off--a British battery -in action. Sometimes a cloud of dust rises over it. That is a Boer -shell which has knocked up the dust. No Boers can be seen from here. - -Boom! Boom! Boom! - -It becomes monotonous. “Old Tucker is getting it hot!” Bother old -Tucker, let us push on to Brandfort. - -On again over the great plain, the firing dying away on the right. We -have had a gun knocked off its wheels and twelve men hit over there. -But now Hutton’s turning movement is complete, and they close in on the -left of Brandfort. A pom-pom quacks like some horrid bird among the -hills. Our horse artillery are banging away. White spurts of shrapnel -rise along the ridge. The leading infantry bend their backs and quicken -their pace. We gallop to the front, but the resistance has collapsed. -The mounted men are riding forward and the guns are silent. Long, -sunlit hills stretch peacefully before us. - -I ride through the infantry again. “The bloody blister on my toe has -bust.” “This blasted water-bottle!” Every second man has a pipe between -his parched lips. - -The town is to the right, and two miles of plain intervene. On the -plain a horseman is rounding up some mares and foals. I recognize him -as I pass--Burdett-Coutts--a well-known figure in society. Mr. Maxwell -of the “Morning Post” suggests that we ride to the town and chance it. -“Our men are sure to be there.” No sign of them across the plain, but -we will try. He outrides me, but courteously waits, and we enter the -town together. Yes, it’s all right; there’s a Rimington Scout in the -main street--a group of them, in fact. - -A young Boer, new caught, stands among the horsemen. He is -discomposed--not much. A strong, rather coarse face; well-dressed; -might appear, as he stands, in an English hunting-field as a young -yeoman farmer. - -“Comes of being fond of the ladies,” said the Australian sergeant. - -“Wanted to get her out of the town,” said the Boer. - -Another was brought up. “I’d have got off in a minute,” says he. - -“You’d have got off as it was if you had the pluck of a louse,” says -his captor. The conversation languished after that. - -In came the Staff, galloping grandly. The town is ours. - -A red-headed Irish-American is taken on the kopje. “What the hell is -that to you?” he says to every question. He is haled away to gaol--a -foul-mouthed blackguard. - -We find the landlady of our small hotel in tears--her husband in gaol, -because a rifle has been found. We try to get him out, and succeed. He -charges us 4_s._ for half a bottle of beer, and we wonder whether we -cannot get him back into gaol again. - -“The house is not my own. I find great burly men everywhere,” he cries, -with tears in his eyes. His bar is fitted with pornographic pictures to -amuse our simple farmer friends--not the first or the second sign which -I have seen that pastoral life and a Puritan creed do not mean a high -public morality. - -We sit on the stoep and smoke in the moonlight. - -There comes a drunken inhabitant down the main street. A dingy Tommy -stands on guard in front. - -“Halt! Who goes there?” - -“A friend.” - -“Give the countersign!” - -“I’m a free-born Englishman!” - -“Give the countersign!” - -“I’m a freeborn----” With a rattle the sentry’s rifle came to his -shoulder and the moon glinted on his bayonet. - -“Hi, stop!” cries a senior Correspondent. “You Juggins, you’ll be shot! -Don’t fire, sentry!” - -Tommy raised his rifle reluctantly and advanced to the man. “What shall -I do with him, sir?” he asked the Correspondent. - -“Oh, what you like!” He vanished out of history. - -I talk politics with Free Staters. The best opening is to begin, in -an inquiring tone, “Why did you people declare war upon us?” They -have got into such an injured-innocence state that it comes quite as -a shock to them when they are reminded that they were the attackers. -By this Socratic method one attains some interesting results. It is -evident that they all thought they could win easily, and that they are -very bitter now against the Transvaal. They are mortally sick of the -war; but, for that matter, so are most of the British officers. It has -seemed to me sometimes that it would be more judicious, and even more -honourable, if some of the latter were less open about the extent to -which they are “fed-up.” It cannot be inspiriting for their men. At the -same time there would be a mutiny in the Army if any conditions short -of absolute surrender were accepted--and in spite of their talk, if -a free pass were given to-day, I am convinced that very few officers -would return until the job was done. - -Our railway engineers are great. The train was in Brandfort next -day, in spite of broken bridges, smashed culverts, twisted metals, -every sort of wrecking. So now we are ready for another twenty miles -Pretoriawards. The Vet River is our goal this time, and off we go with -the early morning. - -Another great green plain, with dotted farms and the huge khaki column -slowly spreading across it. The day was hot, and ten miles out the -Guards had about enough. Stragglers lay thick among the grass, but the -companies kept their double line formation, and plodded steadily along. -Ten miles sounds very little, but try it in the dust of a column on a -hot day, with a rifle over your shoulder, a 100 rounds of ammunition, a -blanket, a canteen, an empty water-bottle, and a dry tongue. - -A grey-bearded padre limped bravely beside his men. - -“No, no,” says he, when offered my horse. “I must not spoil my record.” - -The men are silent on the march; no band, no singing. Grim and sullen, -the column flows across the veldt. Officers and men are short in their -tempers. - -“Why don’t you,” etc., etc., bleats a subaltern. - -“Because I never can hear what you say,” says the corporal. - -They halt for a midday rest, and it seems to me, as I move among -them, that there is too much nagging on the part of the officers. -We have paid too much attention to the German military methods. Our -true model should have been the American, for it is what was evolved -by the Anglo-Celtic race in the greatest experience of war which the -Anglo-Celtic race has ever had. - -On we go again over that great plain. Is there anything waiting for -us down yonder where the low kopjes lie? The Boers have always held -rivers. They held the Modder. They held the Tugela. Will they hold the -Vet? Halloa, what’s this? - -A startled man in a night-cap on a dapple-grey horse. He gesticulates. -“Fifty of them--hot corner--lost my helmet.” We catch bits of his talk. -But what’s that on the dapple-grey’s side? The horse is shot through -the body. He grazes quietly with black streaks running down the reeking -hair. - -“A West Australian, sir. They shot turble bad, for we were within fifty -yards before they loosed off.” - -“Which kopje?” - -“That one over yonder.” - -We ride forward, and pass through the open ranks of the Guards’ -skirmishers. Behind us the two huge naval guns are coming majestically -up, drawn by their thirty oxen, like great hock-bottles on wheels. In -front a battery has unlimbered. We ride up to the side of it. Away in -front lies a small, slate-roofed farm beside the kopje. The Mounted -Infantry have coalesced into one body and are moving towards us. -“Here’s the circus. There is going to be a battle,” was an infantry -phrase in the American War. Our circus was coming in, and perhaps the -other would follow. - -The battery (84th R.F.A.) settles down to its work. - -Bang! I saw the shell burst on a hillside far away. “3,500,” says -somebody. Bang! “3,250,” says the voice. Bang! “3,300.” A puff shoots -up from the distant grey roof as if their chimney were on fire. “Got -him that time!” - -The game seems to us rather one-sided, but who is that shooting in the -distance? - -“Wheeeeee”--what a hungry whine, and then a dull muffled “Ooof!” Up -goes half a cartload of earth about one hundred yards ahead of the -battery. The gunners take as much notice as if it were a potato. - -“Wheeeeeee--ooof!” Fifty yards in front this time. - -“Bang! Bang!” go the crisp English guns. - -“Wheeeeee--ooof!” Fifty yards behind the battery. They’ll get it next -time as sure as fate. Gunners go on unconcernedly. “Wheeeeee--ooof!” -Right between the guns, by George! Two guns invisible for the dust. -Good heavens, how many of our gunners are left? Dust settles, and they -are all bending and straining and pulling the same as ever. - -Another shell and another, and then a variety, for there comes a shell -which breaks high up in the air--wheeeeee--tang--with a musical, -resonant note, like the snapping of a huge banjo-string, and a quarter -of an acre of ground spurted into little dust-clouds under the -shrapnel. The gunners take no interest in it. Percussion or shrapnel, -fire what you will, you must knock the gun off its wheels or the man -off his pins before you settle the R.F.A. - -But every shell is bursting true, and it is mere luck that half the -battery are not down. Once only did I see a man throw back his head -a few inches as a shell burst before him. The others might have been -parts of an automatic machine. But the officer decided to shift the -guns--and they are shifted. They trot away for half a mile to the right -and come into action again. - -The lonely hero is the man to be admired. It is easy to be collectively -brave. A man with any sense of proportion feels himself to be such a -mite in the presence of the making of history that his own individual -welfare seems for the moment too insignificant to think of. The unit is -lost in the mass. But now we find ourselves alone on the plain with the -battery away to the right. The nerves of the novice are strung up by -the sound of the shells, but there is something of exhilaration in the -feeling also. - -There is a fence about 200 yards off, and to this we tether our horses, -and we walk up and down trying with our glasses to spot where the Boer -guns are. We have suspicions, but nothing more. Our gunners may know, -but we do not feel confident about it. Surely the stealthy lurking gun -is worth six guns which stand bravely forth in the open. These farmers -have taught our riflemen their business, and they bid fair to alter -the artillery systems of the world as well. Our guns and theirs are -like a fight between a blind man and one who can see. - -An artillery colonel is wandering loose, and we talk. He has no job of -his own, so he comes, like the coachman on a holiday, to watch some -other man’s guns at work. A shell falls some distance short of us. - -“The next one,” says the colonel, “will go over our heads. Come and -stand over here.” I do so, with many mental reservations. Wheeeeeeee---- - -“Here it comes!” says the colonel. “Here I go!” think I. It burst on -our level, but 40 yards to the right. I secure a piece as a souvenir. - -“Shall we wait for another?” I began to be sorry that I met the colonel. - -But a new sensation breaks upon us. Looking back we see that two -monster naval guns are coming into action not fifty yards from our -tethered horses, which stand in a dead line before their huge muzzles. -We only just got them clear in time. Bang! the father of all the bangs -this time, and a pillar of white smoke with a black heart to it on the -farther hill. I can see some riders like ants, going across it--Boers -on the trek. Our men take the huge brass cartridge-case out of the gun. - -“Can I have that?” - -“Certainly,” says the lieutenant. - -I tie it on to my saddle, and feel apologetic towards my long-suffering -horse. The great gun roars and roars and the malignant spouts of smoke -rise on the farthest hill. - -A line of infantry in very open order comes past the great guns, and I -advance a little way with them. They are Scots Guards. The first line -goes forward, the second is halted and lying down. - -“That’s right! Show where you are!” cries the second line, derisively. -I seem to have missed the point, but the young officer in the first -line is very angry. - -“Hold your tongues!” he shouts, with his red face looking over his -shoulder. “Too many orders. No one gives orders but me.” His men lie -down. The sun is sinking low, and it is evident that the contemplated -infantry assault will not come off. One of the great naval shells -passes high over our heads. It is the sound of a distant train in a -tunnel. - -A man canters past with a stretcher over his shoulder. His bay horse -lollops along, but the stretcher makes him look very top-heavy. He -passes the guns and the infantry, and rides on along the edge of a -maize field. He is half a mile out now, heading for the kopje. Every -instant I expect to see him drop from his horse. Then he vanishes in a -dip of the ground. - -After a time the stretcher appears again. - -This time two men are carrying it, and the horseman rides beside. I -have bandages in my pocket, so I ride forward also. - -“Has a surgeon seen him?” - -“No, sir.” They lay the man down. There is a handkerchief over his face. - -“Where is it?” - -“His stomach and his arm.” I pull up his shirt, and there is the Mauser -bullet lying obvious under the skin. It has gone round instead of -penetrating. A slit with a pen-knife would extract it, but that had -better be left for chloroform and the field hospital. Nice clean wound -in the arm. - -“You will do very well. What is your name?” - -“Private Smith, sir. New Zealander.” I mention my name and the Langman -Hospital at Bloemfontein. - -“I’ve read your books,” says he, and is carried onwards. - -There has been a lull in the firing and the sun is very low. Then after -a long interval comes a last Boer shell. It is an obvious insult, aimed -at nothing, a derisive good-night and good-bye. The two naval guns put -up their long necks and both roared together. It was the last word of -the Empire--the mighty angry voice calling over the veldt. The red rim -had sunk and all was purple and crimson, with the white moon high in -the west. What had happened? Who had won? Were other columns engaged? -No one knew anything or seemed to care. But late at night as I lay -under the stars I saw on the left front signal flashes from over the -river, and I knew that Hutton was there. - -So it proved, for in the morning it was over the camp in an instant -that the enemy had gone. But the troops were early afoot. Long before -dawn came the weird, muffled tapping of the drums and the crackling of -sticks as the camp-kettles were heated for breakfast. Then with the -first light we saw a strange sight. A monstrous blister was rising -slowly from the veldt. It was the balloon being inflated--our answer -to the lurking guns. We would throw away no chances now, but play -every card in our hand--another lesson which the war has driven into -our proud hearts. The army moved on, with the absurd windbag flapping -over the heads of the column. We climbed the kopjes where the enemy had -crouched, and saw the litter of empty Mauser cases and the sangars so -cunningly built. Among the stones lay a packet of the venomous-looking -green cartridges still unfired. They talk of poison, but I doubt it. -Verdigris would be an antiseptic rather than a poison in a wound. It -is more likely that it is some decomposition of the wax in which the -bullets are dipped. Brother Boer is not a Bushman after all. He is a -tough, stubborn fighter, who plays a close game, but does not cheat. - -We say good-bye to the army, for our duty lies behind us and theirs -in front. For them the bullets, for us the microbes, and both for -the honour of the flag. Scattered trails of wagons, ambulance carts, -private buggies, impedimenta of all kinds, radiate out from the army. -It is a bad drift, and it will be nightfall before they are all over. -We pass the last of them, and it seems strange to emerge from that -great concourse and see the twenty miles of broad, lonely plain which -lies between us and Brandfort. We shall look rather foolish if any Boer -horsemen are hanging about the skirts of the army. - -We passed the battlefield of last night, and stopped to examine the -holes made by the shells. Three had fallen within ten yards, but the -ant-heaps round had not been struck, showing how harmless the most -severe shell fire must be to prostrate infantry. From the marks in the -clay the shells were large ones--forty-pounders, in all probability. -In a little heap lay the complete kit of a Guardsman--his canteen, -water-bottle, cup, even his putties. He had stripped for action with a -vengeance. Poor devil, how uncomfortable he must be to-day! - -A Kaffir on horseback is rounding up horses on the plain. He gallops -towards us--a picturesque, black figure on his shaggy Basuto mount. He -waves his hand excitedly towards the east. - -“Englishman there--on veldt--hurt--Dutchman shoot him.” He delivers his -message clearly enough. - -“Is he alive?” He nods. - -“When did you see him?” He points to the sun and then farther east. -About two hours ago apparently. - -“Can you take us there?” We buy him for 2_s._, and all canter off -together. - -Our road is through maize fields and then out on to the veldt. By -Jove, what’s that? There _is_ a single black motionless figure in the -middle of that clearing. We gallop up and spring from our horses. A -short muscular, dark man is lying there with a yellow, waxen face, -and a blood-clot over his mouth. A handsome man, black-haired, black -moustached, his expression serene--No. 410 New South Wales Mounted -Infantry--shot, overlooked and abandoned. There are evident signs that -he was not alive when the Kaffir saw him. Rifle and horse are gone. -His watch lies in front of him, dial upwards, run down at one in the -morning. Poor chap, he had counted the hours until he could see them no -longer. - -We examine him for injuries. Obviously he had bled to death. There is a -horrible wound in his stomach. His arm is shot through. Beside him lies -his water-bottle--a little water still in it, so he was not tortured by -thirst. And there is a singular point. On the water-bottle is balanced -a red chess pawn. Has he died playing with it? It looks like it. Where -are the other chessmen? We find them in a haversack out of his reach. -A singular trooper this, who carries chessmen on a campaign. Or is it -loot from a farmhouse? I shrewdly suspect it. - -We collect the poor little effects of No. 410--a bandolier, a -stylographic pen, a silk handkerchief, a clasp-knife, a Waterbury -watch, £2 6_s._ 6_d._ in a frayed purse. Then we lift him, our hands -sticky with his blood, and get him over my saddle--horrible to see how -the flies swarm instantly on to the saddle-flaps. His head hangs down -on one side and his heels on the other. We lead the horse, and when -from time to time he gives a horrid dive we clutch at his ankles. Thank -Heaven, he never fell. It is two miles to the road, and there we lay -our burden under a telegraph post. A convoy is coming up, and we can -ask them to give him a decent burial. No. 410 holds one rigid arm and -clenched fist in the air. We lower it, but up it springs menacing, -aggressive. I put his mantle over him; but still, as we look back, we -see the projection of that raised arm. So he met his end--somebody’s -boy. Fair fight, open air, and a great cause--I know no better death. - -A long, long ride on tired horses over an endless plain. Here and there -mounted Kaffirs circle and swoop. I have an idea that a few mounted -police might be well employed in our rear. How do we know what these -Kaffirs may do among lonely farms held by women and children? Very -certain I am that it is not their own horses which they are rounding up -so eagerly. - -Ten miles have passed, and we leave the track to water our horses at -the dam. A black mare hard-by is rolling and kicking. Curious that she -should be so playful. We look again, and she lies very quiet. One more -has gone to poison the air of the veldt. We sit by the dam and smoke. -Down the track there comes a Colonial corps of cavalry--a famous corps, -as we see when our glasses show us the colour of the cockades. Good -heavens, will we never have sense beaten into us? How many disasters -and humiliations must we endure before we learn how to soldier? The -regiment passes without a vanguard, without scouts, without flankers, -in an enemy’s country intersected by dongas. Oh, for a Napoleon who -might meet such a regiment, tear the epaulettes of the colonel from his -shoulders, Stellenbosch him instantly without appeal or argument. Only -such a man with such powers can ever thoroughly reorganize our army. - -Another six miles over the great plain. Here is a small convoy, with -an escort of militia, only a mile or two out from Brandfort. They are -heading wrong, so we set them right. The captain in charge is excited. - -“There are Boers on that hill!” The hill is only half a mile or so away -on our left; so we find the subject interesting. “Kaffirs!” we suggest. - -“No, no, mounted men with bandoliers and rifles. Why, there they are -now.” We see moving figures, but again suggest Kaffirs. It ends by our -both departing unconvinced. We thought the young officer jumpy over his -first convoy, but we owe him an apology, for next morning we learned -that the Mounted Infantry had been out all night chasing the very men -whom we had seen. It is likely that the accidental presence of the -convoy saved us from a somewhat longer journey than we had intended. - -A day at Brandfort, a night in an open truck, and we were back at the -Café Enterique, Boulevard des Microbes, which is our town address. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -FINAL EXPERIENCES IN SOUTH AFRICA - - Military Jealousies--Football--Cracked Ribs--A Mutiny--De Wet--A - Historian under Difficulties--Pretoria--Lord Roberts--With the - Boers--Memorable Operation--Altercation. - - -Military men are more full of jealousies and more prone to divide into -cliques than any set of men whom I have met. South Africa was rent with -their quarrels, and one heard on every side of how General This was -daggers drawn with General That. But the greatest cleavage of all was -between the Roberts men and the Buller men. The former were certainly -very bitter against the reliever of Ladysmith, and the comments about -the difference between his evening telegrams and those of next morning -were painful to hear. I had, however, less sympathy, as Buller was a -coarse-fibred man, though a brave soldier. Several authentic anecdotes -pointed to this want of perception. When, for example, he entered -Ladysmith the defenders saved up a few cakes and other luxuries for the -day of their release. These they laid before Buller at the welcoming -lunch. “I thought you were a starving city,” said he, looking round at -them. This story I heard from several men who claimed to speak with -knowledge as well as bitterness. It would have been sad had Buller’s -long meritorious, hard-fighting career gone down in clouds, but it -cannot be denied that in the French, or I think in any other service, -he could not have survived Colenso. The strange speech which he made -at a London luncheon after the war proved, I think, that his mind had -lost something of its grip of realities. Roberts, as usual, played the -noblest possible part in this unhappy controversy. “I shall handle -Buller with all possible tenderness,” he said to one of his Staff, and -he lived up to his words. - -I found the hospital on my return to be in a very improved condition. -I fell ill myself, however, though it was not serious enough to -incapacitate me. I still think that if I had not been inoculated I -should at that time have had enteric, and there was surely something -insidious in my system, for it was a good ten years before my digestion -had recovered its tone. My condition was not improved by a severe -bruising of the ribs caused by a foul in one of the inter-hospital -football matches which we had organized in order to take the minds of -the men from their incessant work. Charles Gibbs strapped me up with -plaster, as in a corset, but I was getting too old for rough handling -which I could have smiled at in my youth. - -One quaint memory of those days rises before me. There was a sharp -quarrel between Drury, our Military C.O. representing routine -discipline, and our cooks and servants representing civilian ideas -of liberty. It was mishandled and had reached such a point when I -returned from the army that the men were on absolute strike, the work -was disorganized and the patients were suffering. Drury was breathing -fire and fury, which only made the men more obdurate. It really looked -as if there might be a considerable scandal, and I felt that it was -just such a case as Mr. Langman would have wished me to handle. I asked -leave of Major Drury, therefore, that I might take the matter up, and -he was, I fancy, very glad that I should, for he was at the end of his -resources, and a public exposure of a disorganized unit means also a -discredited Commander. I therefore sat behind the long mess table, and -had the six ringleaders before me, all standing in a line with sullen -mutiny in their faces. I talked to them gently and quietly, saying -that I was in some sense responsible for them, since several of them -had been enlisted by me. I sympathized with them in all they had gone -through, and said that all our nerves had been a little overstrained, -but that Duty and Discipline must rise above our bodily weakness. No -doubt their superiors also had been strained and some allowance must -be made on both sides. I then took a graver tone. “This matter is just -going forward for court martial and I have intervened at the last -instant. You clearly understand your own position. You have disobeyed -orders on active service in the presence of the enemy. There is only -one punishment possible for such an offence. It is death.” Six pairs -of eyes stared wildly in front of me. Having produced my effect I went -into their grievances, promised that they should be considered, and -demanded an apology to Major Drury as the condition for doing anything -further. They were six chastened men who filed out of the marquee, the -apology was forthcoming, and there were no more troubles in the camp. - -An anxiety came to us about this time from a very unexpected cause, for -Archie Langman, who had been my good comrade in my visit to the army, -went off again, trekking up country with the Imperial Yeomanry and ran -right into the arms of De Wet, who had just raided the line and won a -small victory at a place called Roodeval. The famous guerilla leader -was stern but just, and he treated the hospital men with consideration, -so that Archie returned none the worse for his adventure. But there was -a bad day or two for me between our learning of his capture and of his -release. - -The army had got forward with little fighting, and Pretoria was in our -hands. It seemed to all of us that the campaign was over and that only -cleaning-up remained to be done. I began to consider my own return -to Europe, and there were two potent influences which drew me, apart -from the fact that the medical pressure no longer existed. The first -was that I had during all this time continued to write the History -of the War, drawing my material very often from the eye-witnesses to -these events. But there was a good deal which could only be got at the -centre, and therefore if my book was to be ready before that of my -rivals it was necessary for me to be on the spot. The second was that -a political crisis and a general election were coming on, and it was -on the cards that I might be a candidate. I could not, however, leave -Africa until I had seen Pretoria, so, with some difficulty, I obtained -leave and was off on the much-broken and precarious railway on June 22. - -That journey was certainly the strangest railway journey of my life. -From minute to minute one never knew what would happen. I was in the -good company of Major Hanbury Williams, Lord Milner’s Secretary, who -allowed me to share his special carriage, and we had with us a little -alert man named Amery, then unknown to fame, but now deservedly in -the seats of the mighty. There were others but I have forgotten them. -When the train stopped in the middle of the veldt, which it continually -did, one never knew whether it was for five minutes or for five hours, -as did actually occur, and as it went on again without warning one had -to sit tight. We met a down train with its windows shattered and heard -that twenty folk had been injured in a Boer ambuscade. Every hour we -expected to be attacked. Once during one of our long halts we saw a -horseman come cantering over the great green expanse. We got out to -see and interview him. He was a tall, slab-sided fellow, unarmed, but -with a rakish debonnaire look to him. He said he was a loyal British -farmer, but I had no doubt in my own mind that he was a Boer scout who -wanted to see what our train was carrying. He sat easy in his saddle -for some little time, chatting with us, and then suddenly wheeled his -grey horse round and galloped away. Some way further down the line we -saw a farm burning, and a fringe of our irregulars riding round it. I -was told that it was one of De Wet’s farms and that it was a punishment -for cutting the line. The whole scene might have been in the Middle -Ages--say a company of Moss troopers on a raid over the English border. - -When we came to the place of the Roodeval disaster, where our -Derbyshire militia had been sadly cut up by De Wet, the train had to -stop, for the line was under repair, and we were able to go over the -ground. The place was littered with shells for the heavy guns taken -from some looted train. Then there were acres covered with charred -or partly charred letters, blowing about in the wind, for De Wet had -burned the mail bags--one of his less sportsmanlike actions. Napoleon -went one better, however, on a certain occasion when he published an -intercepted British mail, which led to a British reprisal of the same -sort, not at all conducive to the peace of families. I picked up one -letter which fluttered up to me, and I read in rough handwriting, “I -hope you have killed all them Boers by now,” with many x (kisses) -underneath. Among other things were some of the band instruments, -across which De Wet had driven his heavy wagons. - -It gave me a strange thrill when I looked out early one morning at -a deserted platform and saw the word Pretoria printed upon a board. -Here we were at last at the very centre of all things. The Transvaal -Hotel was open and for several days it was my head-quarters while I -examined men and things. One of my first tasks was to see Lord Roberts, -who desired to interview me on account of some sensational articles by -Burdett-Coutts which had appeared in the London Press upon the state of -the hospitals. Of course that state had in many cases, possibly in all, -been awful, but the reason lay in the terrible and sudden emergency. -Every one had done his best to meet it and had met it to a surprising -degree, but cases of hardship were numerous all the same. This I -explained to Lord Roberts--and also to the Royal Commission in London. -As an unpaid independent volunteer my words may have had more weight -than those of some far greater authority who was personally involved. -I can see Roberts now as he sat behind a small desk in his room. His -face looked red and engorged, but that was due no doubt to his life in -the sun. He was urbane and alert, reminding me at once of our former -meeting in London. His light blue eyes were full of intelligence and -kindness, but they had the watery look of age. Indeed, I can hardly -remember in all military history a case where a man over seventy had -been called out from retirement to conduct so arduous a campaign, and -it was his conception of the fine flank march to Paardeburg which had -actually beaten the Boers, however long they might keep up appearances -of resistance. We had a short vivid talk and I never saw him again -until he came to my own house at Hindhead to inspect my rifle range in -1902. - -Of Lord Kitchener I saw nothing at Pretoria, but on one occasion a big -man on a huge bay horse went past me at a hard gallop on the veldt and -as he passed he waved his hand, and I knew it was the famous soldier. -He had been under a cloud since Paardeburg, and indeed it is hard to -see how his tactics can be justified, since he attacked the Boers -and lost some 2,000 men, when they were headed off and were bound to -surrender in any case. There may be reasons unknown to a civilian, but -I have heard soldiers speak warmly about it, for some of the attackers -were mounted troops who had to gallop to the edge of the donga, -and could do nothing when they got there. Colonel Hannay actually -registered some protest before obeying the orders in which he and many -of his men met their death. However, it was to Kitchener that all men -turned now when the organization of the lines of communication was -the vital point, and that rather than actual battle was his forte. I -have been told by some who have been in action with him that he became -nervously restless and impatient in a fight, while Roberts, on the -other hand, became cooler and more quiet the greater the danger grew. -In organization, however, Kitchener was inhuman in his cool accuracy. -“Regret to report great dynamite explosion. Forty Kaffirs killed,” -was the report of one officer. “Do you need more dynamite?” was the -answering telegram from Lord Kitchener. - -There was a bench outside my hotel on which a group of old bearded -burghers used to smoke their pipes every day. I went down and sat -among them with my Boer pipe filled with the best Magaliesburg. I -said nothing, so soon they began to make advances, speaking excellent -English in rough guttural fashion. Botha was not far from the town, and -it was notorious that spies took him out the news every night. These -old fellows were clearly a collecting station, so I thought it would be -useful to give them something to ponder. After conversational remarks -one of them said: “Tell us, Mister, when are we to have peace?” They -were under the impression that the whole British nation was longing for -peace, and it was this which encouraged the resistance. “Oh,” said I, -“I hope not for a long time yet.” They all looked at each other, and -then the spokesman said: “Why do you say that, Mister?” “Well, it’s -this way,” said I. “This country, you see, is going to be a British -Colony. It would be very awkward for us to have a Colony which was full -of dangerous men. We couldn’t kill them then, could we? They would be -fellow-citizens and under the law’s protection, the same as we. Our -only chance is to kill them now, and that’s what we will do if we have -the time.” The old fellows all grunted and puffed furiously at their -pipes, but they could find no answer. Possibly some version of the -matter may have reached the point I was aiming at. - -Our longest excursion from Pretoria was to Waterval, whither Bennett -Burleigh took me in his Cape cart. Once we got quite close to a Boer -patrol, about a dozen horsemen. Burleigh could not believe that they -were actually the enemy until I pointed out that several of the horses -were white, which was hardly ever known in our service. He then -examined them with his glass, and found I was right. They were clearly -on some quest of their own, for they took no notice of us, though they -could easily have cut us off. Our drive took us to the great prison -camp where so many British and Colonial soldiers had a humiliating -experience. The prisoners had only got free a week or two before, -and the whole place, many acres in size, was covered with every sort -of souvenir. I contented myself with a Boer carbine which had been -broken by a British prisoner, a band triangle, a half-knitted sock, -the knitting needles being made from the barbed wire, and a set of leg -fetters from the camp gaol. A tunnel had been bored just before the -general delivery by some captive Hussars. It was a wonderful work, -considering that it was done chiefly with spoons, and it had just been -finished when relief came. I descended into it, and was photographed by -Burleigh as I emerged. I daresay many of my friends have copies of it -still, with my inscription: “Getting out of a hole, like the British -Empire.” - -I spent a day in Johannesburg, walking its deserted streets and -seeing its great mines now dead or at least in suspended animation. -I descended one of the deep mines, the Robinson, but as the hoisting -machinery was out of order, and we had to walk in darkness down -hundreds (it seemed thousands) of slippery wooden steps, with buckets, -which did the draining, clanking past one’s ear, it was certainly an -over-rated amusement. We got the usual tips as to which mines were -going to boom--on all of which I acted, and all of which proved to be -wrong. - -On July 4, after an uneventful journey, which proved in itself that -our grip was tightening upon the country, I found myself back in -the Langman Hospital again. Times were quiet there, though another -of our poor orderlies had just died of erysipelas, which had broken -out in the wards--not traumatic erysipelas, but a variety which -came without apparent cause. I mention the fact because enteric had -been so universal that there really seemed no other disease, and -this was the only appearance of any other ailment. If the army had -all been inoculated, this would, I think, have been absolutely the -healthiest war on record. Of surgical cases we had few, but I remember -one operation which is perhaps rather technical for discussion and -yet stands out very clearly in my memory. It was performed upon the -Dutch military attaché with the Boers, who was picked up wounded and -paralyzed after some engagement. A shrapnel bullet had broken one of -his cervical vertebræ, the bone pressed on the nerves, and they had -ceased to function. Watson Cheyne of London was the operator. He had -cut down on the bone with a free incision and was endeavouring with a -strong forceps to raise the broken arch of bone, when an amazing thing -happened. Out of the great crimson cleft there rose a column of clear -water 2 feet high, feathering at the top like a little palm tree, which -gradually dwindled until it was only a few inches long, and finally -disappeared. I had, I confess, no idea what it was, and I think many -of the assembled surgeons were as taken aback as I was. The mystery -was explained by Charles Gibbs, my mentor in such matters, who said -that the cerebro-spinal fluid, which is usually a mere moistening round -the cord, had been greatly stimulated and increased by the pressure -of the broken bone. It had finally distended the whole sheath. The -forceps had punctured a small hole in the sheath and then the fluid had -been pressed through and shot into the air as I had seen it. Perhaps -the release was too sudden, for the patient died shortly after he was -removed from the table. - -Charles Gibbs is still in practice, and senior surgeon of Charing Cross -Hospital, but he will forgive me if I remind him that his pupil did -once score over him. One of my enteric patients was obviously dying and -kept murmuring that he would like some solid food. Of course the first -law in treating enteric is, or was, that diet must be fluid, as the -intestine is ulcerated and puncture of it means death by peritonitis. -I said to Gibbs: “Do you consider that this man is sure to die?” “He -is certainly as bad as he can be,” said Gibbs. “Well then,” said I, -“I propose to give him a solid meal.” Gibbs shook his head and was -shocked. “It is a great responsibility you take.” “What’s the odds,” -I asked, “if he has to die anyhow?” “Well, it’s just the difference -whether you kill him or the disease does.” “Well, I’ll take the -chance,” said I--and I did so. A year or so later I was attending a -public meeting at Edinburgh when the following letter, which I copy -from my book of curiosities, was handed up to me. - - 128, ROYAL ROAD, - KENNINGTON PARK, - LONDON, S.E. - _October 1, 1900._ - - SIR,-- - - As one who was under your care at Bloemfontein in “Langman’s Hospital” - I hope you will forgive me in taking the liberty of wishing you - success at Edinburgh. I am actuated in this not only by political - principles but by the fact that I (and others) owe my life to your - kindness and care. You may not remember me, Sir, but I can assure you - the remembrance of you is written in my mind and can never be removed. - Again wishing you success and hoping you will pardon this liberty, - - I remain, Sir, - Yours obediently, - (Pte.) M. HANLON, C.I.V. - - -M. Hanlon was my enteric patient and he had never looked back from the -day he had that square meal. But I don’t say it was an example for the -family practitioner to copy. - -On July 11 I went on board the _Briton_ at Capetown and we sailed for -England once more. I called upon Sir Alfred Milner before I left, and -found him a very much older man than when only a few years before I had -met him on the eve of his African experience. His hair was grizzled and -his shoulders bowed, but his brave heart was as steadfast as ever, nor -did it ever fail until his hard and thankless task was done. He made -one error, I think, when he desired to keep South Africa under martial -law when the war was over, but who could have done better, or as well, -under the intolerable conditions which he had to face? - -It was a remarkable passenger list on the _Briton_, and a very joyous -voyage. The Duke of Norfolk and his brother Lord Edward Talbot were two -of the most cheery people on the ship. It was a weird sight to see the -senior Baron of England and a lumpy Hollander sitting face to face on -a spar, and slashing each other with bladders to see which could knock -off the other. Blood told, if I remember right. Then there was Sir John -Willoughby, of Jameson Raid fame, Lady Sarah Wilson from Mafeking, the -Duke of Marlborough, Lady Arthur Grosvenor, the Hon. Ivor Guest and -many famous soldiers. Especially was I fortunate in my friendship with -Fletcher Robinson and with Nevinson, which was cemented by this closer -association. Only one cloud marred the serenity of that golden voyage. -There was a foreign officer on board, whose name I will not mention, -who had been with the Boers and who talked with great indiscretion as -to his experiences and opinions. He stated in my presence that the -British had habitually used Dum-Dum bullets, on which I lost my temper -and told him he was a liar. I must say that he behaved very well, for -after thinking it over he saw that he was in the wrong and he sent -down my friend Robinson to my cabin with a query as to whether I would -accept an apology. I answered that I would not, since it was the army, -and not me, which had been insulted. In an hour Robinson reappeared -with the following letter, which ended what might have been a serious -incident. - - DEAR SIR,-- - - Allow me to tell you that I regret lively what I said about expanding - bullets--which I said but after hear saying evidence I request you to - let everybody know that I strongly wish on the contrary that I desire - to be on best terms with every Englishman and beg you for that to be - my interpreter. - - Yours very truly. - - -The first days of August saw me in London once more, and soon all that -strange episode--the green expanse of the veldt, the flat-topped hills, -the enteric wards--had become the vision of a dream. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -AN APPEAL TO THE WORLD’S OPINION - - Misrepresentation--A Sudden Resolve--Reginald Smith--A Week’s Hard - Work--“The Cause and Conduct of the War”--Translations--German - Letter--Complete Success--Surplus. - - -One of the most pleasing and complete episodes in my life was connected -with the pamphlet which I wrote upon the methods and objects of our -soldiers in South Africa. It was an attempt to stem the extraordinary -outbreak of defamation which had broken out in every country--or nearly -every country, in Europe, and which had attained such a height that it -really seemed that on this absolutely fictitious basis might be built -up a powerful political combination which would involve us in a serious -war. - -I can well remember the inception of my enterprise! The date was -January 7, 1902. The day was a Tuesday. Sir Henry Thompson was holding -that evening one of those charming “octave” dinners at which it was -my occasional privilege to attend, and I was going up to town from -Hindhead to keep the engagement. Sitting alone in a carriage I read -the foreign correspondence of “The Times.” In a single column there -were accounts of meetings in all parts of Europe--notably one of some -hundreds of Rhineland clergymen--protesting against our brutalities to -our enemies. There followed a whole column of extracts from foreign -papers, with grotesque descriptions of our barbarities. To any one who -knew the easygoing British soldier or the character of his leaders the -thing was unspeakably absurd; and yet, as I laid down the paper and -thought the matter over, I could not but admit that these Continental -people were acting under a generous and unselfish motive which was -much to their credit. How could they help believing those things, and, -believing them was it not their duty by meeting, by article, by any -means, to denounce them? Could we accuse them of being credulous? Would -we not be equally so if all our accounts of any transaction came from -one side, and were supported by such journalists and, above all, such -artists as lent their pens and pencils, whether venally or not, to the -Boer cause? Of course we would. And whose fault was it that our side -of the question was not equally laid before the jury of the civilized -world? Perhaps we were too proud, perhaps we were too negligent--but -the fact was obvious that judgment was being given against us by -default. How _could_ they know our case? Where could they find it? If -I were asked what document they could consult, what could I answer? -Blue-books and State papers are not for the multitude. There were books -like Fitz-Patrick’s “Transvaal from Within” or E. T. Cook’s “Rights and -Wrongs”; but these were expensive volumes, and not readily translated. -Nowhere could be found a statement which covered the whole ground in -a simple fashion. Why didn’t some Briton draw it up? And then like a -bullet through my head, came the thought, “Why don’t you draw it up -yourself?” - -The next instant I was on fire with the idea. Seldom in my life have I -been so conscious of a direct imperative call which drove every other -thought from the mind. If I were a humble advocate, it was all the -better, since I could have no axe to grind. I was fairly well posted -in the facts already, as I had written an interim history of the war. -I had seen something of the campaign, and possessed many documents -which bore upon the matter. My plans widened every instant. I would -raise money from the public and by the sale of the book at home. With -this I would translate it into every language. These translations -should be given away wholesale. Every professor, every clergyman, every -journalist, every politician, should have one put under his nose in -his own language. In future, if they traduced us, they could no longer -plead ignorance that there was another side to the question. Before I -reached London all my programme was sketched out in my head. There was -no item of it, I may add, which was not eventually carried through. - -Fortune was my friend. I have said that I was dining that night with -Sir Henry Thompson. My neighbour at dinner was a gentleman whose name -I had not caught. My mind being full of the one idea, my talk soon -came round to it, and instead of my neighbour being bored, my remarks -were received with a courteous and sympathetic attention which caused -me to make even greater demands upon his patience. Having listened from -the soup to the savoury (often has my conscience rebuked me since), he -ended by asking me mildly how I proposed to raise the money for these -wide-reaching schemes. I answered that I would appeal to the public. -He asked me how much would suffice. I answered that I could make a -start with £1,000. He remarked that it would take much more than that. -“However,” he added, “if £1,000 would go any way towards it, I have no -doubt that sum could be got for you.” “From whom?” I asked. He gave -me his name and address and said: “I have no doubt that if you carry -out the scheme on the lines you suggest, I could get the money. When -you have done your work, come to me, and we will see how it is best to -proceed.” I promised to do so, and thanked him for his encouragement. -Sir Eric Barrington of the Foreign Office was the name of this fairy -godfather. - -This was my first stroke of good luck. A second came next morning. I -had occasion to call upon the publishing house of Smith, Elder & Co., -over some other business, and during the interview I told Mr. Reginald -Smith the plan that I had formed. Without a moment’s hesitation he -placed the whole machinery of his world-wide business at my disposal, -without payment of any kind. From that moment he became my partner in -the enterprise, and I found his counsel at every stage of as great -help to me as the publishing services which he so generously rendered. -Not only did he save heavy costs to the fund, but he arranged easily -and successfully those complex foreign transactions which the scheme -entailed. - -That morning I called at the War Office and was referred by them to the -Intelligence Department, where every information which they possessed -was freely put at my disposal. I then wrote to “The Times” explaining -what I was trying to do, and asking those who sympathized with my -object to lend me their aid. Never was an appeal more generously or -rapidly answered. My morning post on the day after brought me 127 -letters, nearly all of which contained sums drawn from every class of -the community, varying from the £50 of Lord Rosebery to the half-crown -of the widow of a private soldier. Most of the remittances were -accompanied by letters which showed that, however they might pretend in -public to disregard it, the attitude of the foreign critics had really -left a deep and bitter feeling in the hearts of our people. - -It was on January 9 that I was able to begin my task. On the 17th I -had finished it. When the amount of matter is considered, and the -number of researches and verifications which it entailed, I need not -say that I had been absorbed in the work, and devoted, I dare say, -sixteen hours a day to its accomplishment. So far as possible I kept my -individual opinions in the background, and made a more effective case -by marshalling the statements of eye-witnesses, many of them Boers, on -the various questions of farm-burnings, outrages, concentration camps, -and other contentious subjects. I made the comments as simple and as -short as I could, while as to the accuracy of my facts, I may say that, -save as to the exact number of farmhouses burned, I have never heard of -one which has been seriously questioned. It was a glad day for me when -I was able to lay down my pen with the feeling that my statement was as -full and as effective as it was in me to make it. - -Meanwhile the subscriptions had still come steadily in, until nearly -£1,000 more had been banked by the time that the booklet was finished. -The greater number of contributions were in small sums from people who -could ill afford it. One notable feature was the number of governesses -and others residing abroad whose lives had been embittered by their -inability to answer the slanders which were daily uttered in their -presence. Many of these sent their small donations. A second pleasing -feature was the number of foreigners resident in England who supported -my scheme, in the hope that it would aid their own people to form a -juster view. From Norwegians alone I received nearly £50 with this -object. If Britain’s own children too often betrayed her at a crisis of -her fate, she found at least warm friends among the strangers within -her gates. Another point worth noting was that a disproportionate -sum was from clergymen, which was explained by several of them as -due to the fact that since the war began they had been pestered by -anti-national literature, and took this means of protesting against it. - -The proofs having been printed, I sent them to my Foreign Office friend -as I had promised, and presently received an invitation to see him. He -expressed his approval of the work, and handed me a banknote for £500, -at the same time explaining that the money did not come from him. I -asked if I might acknowledge it as from an anonymous donor--“The donor -would not object,” said my friend. So I was able to head my list with -“A Loyal Briton,” who contributed £500. I daresay the Secret Service -knew best whence the money came. - -By this time the banking account had risen to some two thousand pounds, -and we were in a position to put our foreign translations in hand. The -British edition had in the meantime been published, the distribution -being placed in the hands of Messrs. Newnes, who gave the enterprise -whole-hearted aid. The book was retailed at sixpence, but as it was -our desire that the sale should be pushed it was sold to the trade -at about threepence. The result was to leave the main profit of the -enterprise in the hands of the retailer. The sale of the pamphlet was -very large--in fact, I should imagine that it approached a record in -the time. Some 250,000 copies were sold in Great Britain very quickly, -and about 300,000 within a couple of months. This great sale enabled us -to add considerably to the fund by the accumulation of the small rebate -which had been reserved upon each copy. Our financial position was very -strong, therefore, in dealing with the foreign translations. - -The French edition was prepared by Professor Sumichrast of Harvard -University, who was a French-Canadian by birth. This gentleman -patriotically refused to take any payment for his work, which was -admirably done. It was published without difficulty by Galignani, -and several thousands were given away where they would do most good, -in France, Belgium, and Switzerland. Twenty thousand copies of this -edition were printed. - -The German edition was a more difficult matter. No German publisher -would undertake it, and the only courtesy which we met with in that -country was from Baron von Tauchnitz, who included the volume in his -well-known English library. Our advances were met with coldness, and -occasionally with insult. Here, for example, is a copy of an extreme -specimen of the kind of letter received. - - _January, 1902._ - - MESSRS. SMITH, ELDER & CO.,-- - - GENT,--Doyle’s book makes the impression as if it was ordered or - influenced by the English Jingo party. - - Now, you know, this English war party (as well as the English officers - and soldiers in Transvaal) are contempted by the whole civilised world - as coward scoundrels and vile brutes who murder women and children. - - It would be for me, as an importer of English literature to Germany, - Austria and Russia, in the highest degree imprudent to do anything - that could awake the suspicion I was in connection with so despised a - party. - - I have shown your letter to several persons. Nobody was inclined to - take up the matter. - -There is a mixture of venom and smugness about this epistle which gives -it a high place in my collection. In spite of rebuffs, however, I found -an Anglo-German publishing house in Berlin to undertake the work, and -with the assistance of Herr Curt von Musgrave, who gave me an excellent -translation, I was able to work off more than one very large edition, -which had a perceptible effect in modifying the tone of that portion -of the German press which was open to reason. Altogether 20,000 copies -were distributed in the Fatherland and German-speaking Austria. - -I remember one whimsical incident at this time. Somewhat tired, after -the book was in the press, I went down to Seaford for a rest. While -there, a message reached me that a Pan-German officer of Landwehr had -come over to London, and desired to see me. I wired that I could not -come up, but that I should be happy to see him if he came down. Down he -came accordingly, a fine, upstanding, soldierly man, speaking excellent -English. The German proofs had passed through his hands, and he was -much distressed by the way in which I had spoken of the hostility which -his countrymen had shown us, and its effect upon our feelings towards -them. We sat all day and argued the question out. His great point, as -a Pan-German, was that some day both Germany and Britain would have to -fight Russia--Britain for India, and Germany perhaps for the Baltic -Provinces. Therefore they should keep in close touch with each other. I -assured him that at the time the feeling in this country was much more -bitter against Germany than against Russia. He doubted it. I suggested -as a test that he should try the question upon any ’bus driver in -London as a fair index of popular opinion. He was very anxious that -I should modify certain paragraphs, and I was equally determined not -to do so, as I was convinced they were true. Finally, when he left me -on his return to London he said, “Well, I have come 800 miles to see -you, and I ask you now as a final request that in the translation you -will allow the one word ‘Leider’ (‘Alas’) to be put at the opening of -that paragraph.” I was perfectly ready to agree to this. So he got one -word in exchange for 1,600 miles of travel, and I think it was a very -sporting venture. - -One charming incident connected with this German translation was that -a small group of Swiss (and in no country had we such warm-hearted -friends as among the minority in Switzerland) were so keen upon the -cause that they had a translation and an edition of their own, with -large print and maps. It was published independently at Zurich, Dr. -Angst, the British Consul in that town, helping to organize it. -Amongst other good friends who worked hard for the truth, and exposed -themselves to much obloquy in doing so, were Professor Naville, the -eminent Egyptologist of Geneva, and Monsieur Talichet, the well-known -editor of the “Bibliothèque Universelle” of Lausanne, who sacrificed -the circulation of his old-established magazine in upholding our cause. - -So much for the French and German editions. The American and Canadian -had arranged themselves. There remained the Spanish, Portuguese, -Italian, Hungarian, and Russian, all of which were rapidly prepared and -circulated without a hitch, save that in the case of the Russian, which -was published at Odessa, the Censor suppressed it at the last instant. -We were successful, however, in getting his veto removed. In each of -these countries several thousands of the booklet were given away. In -every case we found a larger sale for these foreign editions than we -expected, arising no doubt from the eagerness of English residents -abroad to make their neighbours understand our position. - -The Dutch edition was a stumbling-block. This gallant little nation -felt a most natural sympathy for their kinsfolk in arms against us, -and honestly believed that they had been very badly used. We should -certainly have felt the same. The result was that we were entirely -unable to find either publisher or distributor. The greater the -opposition the more obvious was the need for the book, so Mr. Reginald -Smith arranged that a large edition should be printed here, and sent -direct to all leaders of Dutch opinion. I believe that out of some -5,000 copies not more than twenty were sent back to us. - -The Norwegian edition also presented some difficulties which were -overcome by the assistance of Mr. Thomassen of the “Verdensgang.” This -gentleman’s paper was entirely opposed to us, but in the interests -of fair play he helped me to get my book before the public. I hope -that some relaxation in his attitude towards us in his paper may have -been due to a fuller comprehension of our case, and a realization of -the fact that a nation does not make great sacrifices extending over -years for an ignoble cause. One other incident in connection with the -Norwegian edition is pleasant for me to recall. I had prefaced each -Continental version with a special foreword, designed to arrest the -attention of the particular people whom I was addressing. In this case, -when the book was going to press in Christiania, the preface had not -arrived from the translator (the accomplished Madame Brockmann), and -as she lived a hundred miles off, with all the passes blocked by a -phenomenal snow-storm, it looked as if it must be omitted. Finally, -however, my short address to the Scandinavian people was heliographed -across from snow-peak to snow-peak, and so found its way to the book. - -There was one other language into which the book needed to be -translated, and that was the Welsh, for the vernacular press of the -Principality was almost entirely pro-Boer, and the Welsh people had -the most distorted information as to the cause for which their -fellow-countrymen fought so bravely in the field. The translation -was done by Mr. W. Evans, and some 10,000 copies were printed for -distribution through the agency of the Cardiff “Western Mail.” This -finished our labours. Our total output was 300,000 of the British -edition, about 50,000 in Canada and the United States, 20,000 in -Germany, 20,000 in France, 5,000 in Holland, 10,000 in Wales, 8,000 -in Hungary, 5,000 in Norway and Sweden, 3,500 in Portugal, 10,000 in -Spain, 5,000 in Italy, and 5,000 in Russia. There were editions in -Tamil and Kanarese, the numbers of which I do not know. In all, I have -seen twenty different presentments of my little book. The total sum -at our disposal amounted to about £5,000, of which, speaking roughly, -half came from subscriptions and the other half was earned by the book -itself. - -It was not long before we had the most gratifying evidence of the -success of these efforts. There was a rapid and marked change in the -tone of the whole Continental press, which may have been a coincidence, -but was certainly a pleasing one. In the case of many important organs -of public opinion there could, however, be no question of coincidence, -as the arguments advanced in the booklet and the facts quoted were -cited in their leading articles as having modified their former -anti-British views. This was the case with the “Tagblatt,” of Vienna, -whose London representative, Dr. Maurice Ernst, helped me in every way -to approach the Austrian public. So it was also with the “National -Zeitung” in Berlin, the “Independance Belge” in Brussels, and many -others. In the greater number of cases, however, it was unreasonable to -suppose that a journal would publicly eat its own words, and the best -result for which we could hope was that which we often attained, an -altered and less acrimonious tone. - -Mr. Reginald Smith and I now found ourselves in the very pleasant -position of having accomplished our work so far as we could do it, -and yet of having in hand a considerable sum of money. What were we -to do with it? To return it to subscribers was impossible, and indeed -at least half of it would have to be returned to ourselves since it -had been earned by the sale of the book. I felt that the subscribers -had given me a free hand with the money, to use it to the best of my -judgment for national aims. - -Our first expense was in immediate connection with the object in -view, for we endeavoured to supplement the effect of the booklet by -circulating a large number of an excellent Austrian work, “Recht und -Unrecht im Burenkrieg,” by Dr. Ferdinand Hirz. Six hundred of these -were distributed where they might do most good. - -Our next move was to purchase half a dozen very handsome gold cigarette -cases. On the back of each was engraved, “From Friends in England to a -Friend of England.” These were distributed to a few of those who had -stood most staunchly by us. One went to the eminent French publicist, -Monsieur Yves Guyot, a second to Monsieur Talichet of Lausanne, a -third to Mr. Sumichrast, and a fourth to Professor Naville. By a happy -coincidence the latter gentleman happened to be in this country at the -time, and I had the pleasure of slipping the small souvenir into his -hand as he put on his overcoat in the hall of the Athenæum Club. I have -seldom seen anyone look more surprised. - -There remained a considerable sum, and Mr. Reginald Smith shared my -opinion that we should find some permanent use for it, and that this -use should bring benefit to natives of South Africa. We therefore -forwarded £1,000 to Edinburgh University, to be so invested as to give -a return of £40 a year, which should be devoted to the South African -student who acquitted himself with most distinction. There are many -Afrikander students at Edinburgh, and we imagined that we had hit upon -a pleasing common interest for Boer and for Briton; but I confess -that I was rather amazed when at the end of the first year I received -a letter from a student expressing his confidence that he would win -the bursary, and adding that there could be no question as to his -eligibility, as he was a full-blooded Zulu. - -The fund, however, was by no means exhausted, and we were able to make -contributions to the Civilian Rifleman’s movement, to the Union Jack -Club, to the Indian famine, to the Japanese nursing, to the Irish old -soldiers’ institute, to the fund for distressed Boers, and to many -other deserving objects. These donations varied from fifty guineas to -ten. Finally we were left with a residuum which amounted to £309 0_s._ -4_d._ Mr. Reginald Smith and I sat in solemn conclave over this sum, -and discussed how it might best be used for the needs of the Empire. -The fourpence presented no difficulty, for we worked it off upon the -crossing sweeper outside, who had helped to relieve Delhi. Nine pounds -went in tobacco for the Chelsea veterans at Christmas. There remained -the good round sum of £300. We bethought us of the saying that the -safety of the Empire might depend upon a single shot from a twelve-inch -gun, and we devoted the whole amount to a magnificent cup, to be shot -for by the various ships of the Channel Squadron, the winner to hold -it for a single year. The stand of the cup was from the oak timbers -of the _Victory_, and the trophy itself was a splendid one in solid -silver gilt. By the kind and judicious co-operation of Admiral Sir -Percy Scott, the Inspector of Target Practice, through whose hands the -trophy passed to the Senior Admiral afloat, Sir Arthur Wilson, V.C., in -command of the Channel Squadron, all difficulties were overcome and the -cup was shot for that year, and has since produced, I am told, great -emulation among the various crews. Our one condition was that it should -not be retained in the mess-room, but should be put out on the deck -where the winning bluejackets could continually see it. I learn that -the _Exmouth_ came into Plymouth Harbour with the cup on the top of her -fore turret. - -The one abiding impression left upon my mind by the whole episode -is that our Government does not use publicity enough in stating and -defending its own case. If a private individual could by spending -£3,000 and putting in a month’s work make a marked impression upon the -public opinion of the world, what could be done by a really rich and -intelligent organization? But the first requisite is that you should -honestly have a just cause to state. Who is there outside England who -really knows the repeated and honest efforts made by us to settle the -eternal Irish question and hold the scales fair between rival Irishmen? -We certainly do, as a great Frenchman said, “defend ourselves very -badly.” If we let cases go by default how can we imagine that the -verdict can be in our favour? - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -MY POLITICAL ADVENTURES - - Central Edinburgh--A Knock-out--The Border Burghs--Tariff - Reform--Heckling--Interpolations--Defeat--Reflections. - - -I have twice stood for Parliament, though if anyone were to ask me my -real reasons for doing so I should find it difficult to give them an -intelligible answer. It certainly was from no burning desire to join -that august assembly, for in each case I deliberately contested seats -which every expert considered to be impossible, and though on one -occasion I very nearly proved the experts to be wrong, my action is -none the less a sign that I had no great wish to be at the head of the -poll, for other and easier seats had been offered me. In the case of -Central Edinburgh, for which I stood in the 1900 election, there may -have been some sentimental call, for it was the section of the city -where I was educated and where much of my boyhood was spent. It was -said to be the premier Radical stronghold of Scotland, and to carry -it would be a fine exploit, for though I was a good deal of a Radical -myself in many ways, I knew that it would be a national disgrace and -possibly an imperial disaster if we did not carry the Boer War to -complete success, and that was the real issue before the electors. - -I believe that Providence one way or another gets a man’s full powers -out of him, but that it is essential that the man himself should -co-operate to the extent of putting himself in the way of achievement. -Give yourself the chance always. If it is so fated, you will win -through. If your path lies elsewhere, then you have got your sign -through your failure. But do not put yourself in the position later in -life of looking back and saying, “Perhaps I might have had a career -there had I tried.” Deep in my bones I felt that I was on earth for -some big purpose, and it was only by trying that I could tell that the -purpose was not political, though I could never imagine myself as -fettered to a party or as thinking that all virtues lay with one set of -men. - -My political work was not wasted. I stood in the two most heckling -constituencies in Scotland, and through that odious and much-abused -custom I gained a coolness on the platform and a disregard for -interruption and clamour, which have stood me in good stead since. -Indeed, I hold that it was to fashion me more perfectly for my ultimate -work that I was twice passed through this furnace. I remember that -once at Hawick my soldier brother came to see how I was getting on, -and was struck by the effect which I had upon my audience. “It would -be strange, Arthur,” said he, “if your real career should prove to -be political and not literary.” “It will be neither. It will be -religious,” said I. Then we looked at each other in surprise and both -burst out laughing. The answer seemed quite absurd and pointless, -for no remote possibility of such a thing suggested itself. It was a -curious example of that unconscious power of prophecy which is latent -within us. - -I had hardly landed from South Africa when I flung myself into -the Edinburgh contest. Mr. Cranston, later Sir Robert Cranston, a -well-known citizen, was my chairman. When I arrived a small meeting -was held, and I, a weary man, listened while it was gravely debated, -with much weighing of pros and cons, what my view was to be on each of -the vital questions. Finally it was all settled to their satisfaction -and written down, preparatory to forming the election address. I -had listened with some amusement, and when it was all over I said: -“Gentlemen, may I ask who is going to honour these promises that you -are making?” “Why, you, of course,” said they. “Then I think it would -be better if I made them,” said I, and, crumpling up their document, -I picked up a pen and wrote out my own views and my own address. It -was well received and would have won the election against enormous -odds--some thousands of votes at the last trial--were it not for a very -unexpected intervention. - -Those who remember the election will bear me out that it was an -exciting affair. My opponent was a Mr. Brown, a member of Nelson’s -publishing firm, which had large works in the constituency. I was fresh -from the scene of war and overflowing with zeal to help the army, so -I spared myself in no way. I spoke from barrels in the street or any -other pedestal I could find, holding many wayside meetings besides my -big meetings in the evening, which were always crowded and uproarious. -There was nothing which I could have done and did not do. My opponent -was not formidable, but I had against me an overwhelming party -machine with its registered lists, and record of unbroken victory. -It was no light matter to change the vote of a Scotsman, and many -of them would as soon think of changing their religion. One serious -mischance occurred. I was determined to do and say nothing which I -did not heartily mean, and this united Ireland, North and South, for -the first time in history. The Irish vote was considerable, so that -this was important. The South quarrelled with me because, though I -favoured some devolution, I was not yet converted to Home Rule. The -North was angry because I was in favour of a Catholic University for -Dublin. So I had no votes from Ireland. When I went down to hold a -meeting in a hall in the Cowgate, which is the Irish quarter, I was -told that it had been arranged to break my platform up. This seems -to have been true, but fortunately I got on good human terms with my -audience, and indeed moved some of them to tears, by telling them of -the meeting between the two battalions of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers -at Ladysmith. So it happened that when a sinister-looking figure, a -local horse-slaughterer, appeared on the edge of the stage, he was -received in silence. He moved slowly across and said something about -free speech. I felt that if I or my people were violent there would be -a riot, so I simply said: “Trot along, sonny, trot along!” He did trot -along and disappeared on the other side of the stage. After the transit -of this sinister star, and my temporary eclipse, all went well to the -end. - -As the day of the election approached, it became more and more evident -that I was getting dangerous, but I was knocked out--fortunately for -myself, as I now discern--by a curious interference. There was an -Evangelical fanatic named Plimmer living at Dunfermline who thought it -his special mission in life to keep Roman Catholic candidates out of -Parliament. Therefore at the eleventh hour, the very night before the -voting, the whole district was placarded with big sheets to say that -I was a Roman Catholic, that I had been educated by Jesuits, and in -fact that my whole candidature was an attack upon Kirk and Covenant and -Lesser Catechism and everything dear to the Scottish heart. It was very -cleverly done, and of course this fanatic alone could not have paid -the expenses, though I cannot believe that Mr. Brown knew anything of -the matter. My unhappy supporters saw crowds of workmen reading these -absurd placards and calling out, “I’ve done with him!” As it was I very -narrowly missed the seat, being only beaten by a few hundred votes. -The question of an appeal came along, but the thing was so clever that -it really was difficult to handle, since it was true enough that I had -been educated by Jesuits and yet absurdly untrue that this education -influenced my present frame of mind. Therefore we had to leave it alone. - -Looking back, I am inclined to look upon Mr. Plimmer as one of the -great benefactors of my life. He altered the points at the last moment -and prevented me from being shunted on to a side-line which would -perhaps have taken me to a dead end. I could never have been a party -man, and there seems no place under our system for anyone else. At the -moment I was a little sore, and I wrote a letter to the “Scotsman” -which defined my religious position as it was then, and caused, I -believe, no little comment. I had the following letter from Sir John -Boraston, who was the party organizer. The first sentence refers to the -possibility of lodging a legal protest. - - 6 GREAT GEORGE STREET, - WESTMINSTER, - LONDON, S.W. - _October 18, 1900._ - - DEAR DR. DOYLE,-- - - Probably your Edinburgh advisers are right, but it is undoubtedly a - misfortune that the perpetrators of attacks such as that which was - made upon you should be allowed to go unpunished. - - Your fight was indeed a phenomenal one, and you have the consolation - of knowing that if you did not actually win a seat for yourself, you - did materially contribute to the Liberal Unionist victories in two - other Edinburgh constituencies--this is generally admitted. - - I am sure you will feel that your first entry into active political - life promises a full measure of success at no distant date, and I hope - I may see you again before long to talk matters over. - - Yours very truly, - (_Sgd._) JOHN BORASTON. - - -I had no further urge to try political adventures, but when the -Tariff Reform election of 1905 came round I felt that I should make -some sacrifice for the faith that was in me. Mr. “Tommy” Shaw, as he -was called--now Lord Shaw--was one of the most energetic Radicals in -Scotland, and was reputed to be most firmly established in his seat, -which was called “The Border Burghs,” consisting of the small towns -of Hawick, Galashiels and Selkirk, all of them engaged in the woollen -trade, and all of them hard hit by German competition. It seemed to me -that if there was a good field anywhere for Mr. Joseph Chamberlain’s -views on a protective tariff it should be there, where an open market -had caused such distress and loss. My reasoning was sound enough, -but I had not reckoned upon the innate conservatism of the Scottish -character, which cannot readjust its general principles to meet the -particular case--a noble trait, but occasionally an unpractical one. -Party politics are not a divine law, but simply a means to an end, -which must adjust itself as the end varies. - -This time I really expended a good deal of work as well as money upon -the attempt, for if you stand for others besides yourself you have no -choice but to work up to the last pound of steam. I might have added -my neck to the other things which I risked, for in an endeavour to -get into comradeship with the people I joined in what is known as the -“common-riding” at Hawick, where a general holiday is proclaimed while -the bounds of the common are ridden over and defined. Part of the -proceedings was that each mounted man had to gallop full-split down the -high road over a measured course of half a mile or so, the burghers -lining the way and helping one by waving sticks and umbrellas. I was -mounted on a hunter which I had never seen before, and which was full -of spirit. Fortunately this monstrous road performance came off late -in the afternoon, and I had taken some of the spirit out of him by our -ride round the common. I do not profess to be a great horseman, and I -certainly nearly made the acquaintance of the Hawick turnpike. Sooner -or later some one will be killed at that game, and horses must be lamed -every year. Afterwards an interminable ballad was recited with a sort -of jingling chorus to which all who are near the reciter keep time -with their feet. As it would seem unsympathetic not to join in, I also -kept time with the rhythm, and was amused and amazed when I got back -to London to see in the papers that I had danced a hornpipe in public -before the electors. Altogether I had no desire to face another Hawick -common-riding. - -The trouble in dealing with a three-town constituency, each town very -jealous of the others, is that whatever you do has to be done thrice -or you give offence. I was therefore heartily sick of the preparation -and only too pleased when the actual election came off. I thought then, -and I think now, that a sliding tariff, if only as an instrument for -bargaining, would be altogether to our interest in this country, and -would possibly cause some of our rivals to cease closing their markets -to us, while they freely use the open market which we present. I still -think that Chamberlain’s whole scheme was an admirable one, and that -it was defeated by a campaign of misrepresentation and actual lying, -in which Chinese labour and dear food played a chief part. I stood -among the ruins of a dismantled factory in the Border Burghs and I -showed how it had been destroyed by German competition, and how while -we let their goods in free they were levying taxes on ours and spending -the money so gained upon warships with which we might some day have -to reckon. The answer to my arguments consisted largely of coloured -cartoons of Chinamen working in chains in the mines of the Transvaal, -and other nonsense of the sort. I worked very hard, so hard that on the -last night of the election I addressed meetings in each of the three -towns, which, as they are separated by many miles of hilly roads, is -a feat never done, I understand, before or since. However, it was of -no avail and I was beaten, though I believe I am right in saying that -the party showed a less decrease of votes than in any constituency in -Scotland. The thing which annoyed me most about the election was that -my opponent, Tommy Shaw, only appeared once, so far as I remember, in -the constituency, and did everything by deputy, so that I found myself -like a boxer who is punching his rival’s second instead of himself -all the time. I had the melancholy satisfaction of noting that the -Radical chairman who was so engrossed in the wrongs of Chinamen in the -Transvaal went into liquidation within a few months, giving as his -reason the pressure of foreign competition in the woollen trade. - -It is a vile business this electioneering, though no doubt it is -chastening in its effects. They say that mud-baths are healthy -and purifying, and I can compare it to nothing else. This applies -particularly, I think, to Scotland, where the art of heckling has been -carried to extremes. This asking of questions was an excellent thing -so long as it was honest in its desire to know the candidate’s opinion -upon a public measure. But the honest questions are the exception and -the unfortunate man is baited by all sorts of senseless trick questions -from mischievous and irresponsible persons, which are designed to annoy -him and make him seem foolish or ignorant. Some reform is badly needed -in this matter. Often, after a speech of an hour, I had an hour of -questions, one more absurd than another. The press records will show, -I hope, that I held my own, for I knew my subject well, and by this -time I had had a good schooling on the platform. Sometimes I countered -heavily. I remember one robust individual coming down with a carefully -prepared question which he shouted from the back of the hall. I had -been speaking of retaliation in commercial tariffs, and his question -was: “Mister Candidate, how do you reconcile retaliation with the -Sermon on the Mount?” I answered: “We cannot in life always reach the -highest ideals. Have _you_ sold all and given to the poor?” The man was -locally famous as having done nothing of the sort, and there was a howl -of delight at my answer which fairly drove him out of the hall. - -There is a peculiar dry Scottish wit which is very effective when you -get it on your side. I remember one solemn person who had a loaf -on the end of a pole which he protruded towards me, as if it were a -death’s-head, from the side box of the theatre in which I spoke. The -implication was, I suppose, that I would raise the price of bread. It -was difficult to ignore the thing and yet puzzling how to meet it, but -one of my people in broad Doric cried: “Tak’ it hame and eat it!” which -quite spoilt the effect. Usually these interpolations are delivered in -a dreamy impersonal sort of voice. When, in talking of the Transvaal -War, I said with some passion, “Who is going to pay for this war?” a -seedy-looking person standing against the side wall said, “I’m no’ -carin’!” which made both me and the audience laugh. Again I remember my -speech being quite interrupted by a joke which was lost upon me. I had -spoken of the self-respect and decent attire of American factory hands. -“Gang and look at Broon’s,” said the dreamy voice. I have never yet -learned whether Brown’s factory was famous for tidiness or the reverse, -but the remark convulsed the audience. - -The Radicals used to attend my meetings in great numbers, so that -really, I think, they were often hostile audiences which I addressed. -Since their own candidate held hardly any meetings I was the only fun -to be had. Before the meeting the packed house would indulge in cries -and counter-cries with rival songs and slogans, so that as I approached -the building it sounded like feeding-time at the Zoo. My heart often -sank within me as I listened to the uproar, and I would ask myself what -on earth I meant by placing myself in such a position. Once on the -platform, however, my fighting blood warmed up, and I did not quail -before any clamour. It was all a great education for the future, though -I did not realize it at the time, but followed blindly where some -strange inward instinct led me on. What tired me most was the personal -liberties taken by vulgar people, which is a very different thing from -poor people, whom I usually find to be very delicate in their feelings. -I take a liberty with no man, and there is something in me which rises -up in anger if any man takes a liberty with me. A candidate cannot say -all he thinks on this matter, or his party may suffer. I was always on -my guard lest I should give offence in this way, and I well remember -how on one occasion I stood during a three days’ campaign a good many -indignities with exemplary patience. I was on edge, however, and as -luck would have it, at the very last moment, as I stood on the platform -waiting for the London train, one of my own people, an exuberant young -bounder, came up with a loud familiar greeting and squeezed my right -hand until my signet ring nearly cut me. It opened the sluice and out -came a torrent of whaler language which I had hoped that I had long ago -forgotten. The blast seemed to blow him bodily across the platform, and -formed a strange farewell to my supporters. - -Thus ended my career in politics. I could say with my friend Kendrick -Bangs: “The electors have returned me--to the bosom of my family.” A -very pleasant constituency it is. I had now thoroughly explored that -path, and had assured myself that my life’s journey did not lie along -it. And yet I was deeply convinced that public service was waiting -for me somewhere. One likes to feel that one has some small practical -influence upon the affairs of one’s time, but I encourage myself by the -thought that though I have not been a public man, yet my utterances in -several pamphlets and numerous letters in the Press, may have had more -weight with the public since I was disassociated from any political -interest which could sway my judgment. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE YEARS BETWEEN THE WARS - - “History of the War”--Sir Oliver Lodge--Military Arguments--“Sir - Nigel”--The Edalji Case--Crowborough--The Oscar Slater Case. - - -When I returned from South Africa, I found that my wife had improved in -health during her stay at Naples, and we were able to settle down once -more at Hindhead, where, what with work, cricket, and hunting, I had -some pleasant years. A few pressing tasks were awaiting me, however. -Besides the barren contest at Edinburgh I had done a history of the -war, but the war still continued, and I had to modify it and keep it up -to date in successive editions, until in 1902 it took final shape. I -called it “The Great Boer War,” not because I thought the war “great” -in the scale of history, but to distinguish it from the smaller Boer -War of 1881. It had the good fortune to please both friend and foe, -for there was an article from one of the Boer leaders in “Cornhill” -commending its impartial tone. It has been published now by Nelson in -a cheap edition, and shows every sign of being the permanent record of -the campaign. No less than £27,000 was spent upon an Official History, -but I cannot find that there was anything in it which I had not already -chronicled, save for those minute details of various forces which clog -a narrative. I asked the chief official historian whether my book had -been of use to him, and he very handsomely answered that it had been -the spine round which he built. - -This history, which is a large-sized book, is not to be confused with -the pamphlet “The Cause and Conduct of the War in South Africa,” which -was a small concise defence of the British position. The inception and -result of this I have already described. I have no doubt that it was to -the latter that my knighthood, and my appointment as Deputy-Lieutenant -of Surrey, both of which occurred in 1902, were due. - -I remember that on going down to Buckingham Palace to receive the -accolade, I found that all who were waiting for various honours were -herded into funny little pens, according to their style and degree, -there to await their turn. It chanced that Professor Oliver Lodge, who -was knighted on the same morning, was penned with me, and we plunged -at once into psychic talk, which made me forget where I was, or what I -was there for. Lodge was really more advanced and certain in his views -than I was at that time, but I was quite sure about the truth of the -phenomena, and only doubtful whether some alternative explanation might -be found for a discarnate intelligence as the force at the back of -them. This possibility I weighed for years before the evidence forced -me to the Spiritist conclusion. But when, among the cloud of lies with -which we are constantly girt, I read that Lodge and I were converted -to our present views by the death of our respective sons, my mind goes -back very clearly to that exchange of thought in 1902. At that time we -had both studied the subject for many years. - -Among the many congratulations which I had on my knighthood there -were few which I valued more highly than that of my old comrade, H. -A. Gwynne, who knew so much about South African affairs. He was good -enough to say: “I look upon your work during this terrible South -African business as quite equal to that of a successful general.” This -may well be the exaggeration of friendship, but it is at least pleasing -to know that those who were in a position to judge did not look upon me -as a mere busybody who butts in without due cause. - -There is one incident at this period which comes back to my memory, and -seems very whimsical. I had taken a course of muscular development with -Mr. Sandow, the strong man, and in that way had formed an acquaintance -with him. In the winter of 1901 Mr. Sandow had a laudable desire to -do something for the British wounded, and with that idea he announced -a competition at the Albert Hall. He was himself to show feats of -strength and then there was to be a muster of strong men who should -exhibit their proportions and receive prizes. There were to be three -prizes, a golden statue about two feet high, a silver replica, and -a bronze. Sandow asked Lawes the sculptor and myself to be the two -judges, he being referee. - -It proved to be a very big event. The Albert Hall was crowded. There -were eighty competitors, each of whom had to stand on a pedestal, -arrayed only in a leopard’s skin. Lawes and I put them up ten at a -time, chose one here and one there, and so gradually reduced the number -until we only had six left. Then it became excessively difficult, for -they were all perfectly developed athletes. Finally the matter was -simplified by three extra prizes, and then we got down to the three -winners, but had still to name their order, which was all-important -since the value of the three prizes was so very different. The three -men were all wonderful specimens, but one was a little clumsy and -another a little short, so we gave the valuable gold statue to the -middle one, whose name was Murray, and who came from Lancashire. The -vast audience was very patient during our long judgment, and showed -that it was in general agreement. After the meeting Sandow had invited -the prize-winners, the judges and a chosen company to a late supper, -which was very sumptuous, with champagne flowing freely. When we had -finished it was early in the morning. As I left the place of banquet -I saw in front of me the winning athlete going forth into the London -night with the big golden statue under his arm. I had seen that he was -a very simple countryman, unused to London ways, so I overtook him and -asked him what his plans were. He confided to me that he had no money, -but he had a return ticket to Bolton or Blackburn, and his idea was to -walk the streets until a train started for the North. It seemed to me -a monstrous thing to allow him to wander about with his treasure at -the mercy of any murderous gang, so I suggested that he should come -back with me to Morley’s Hotel, where I was residing. We could not get -a cab, and it seemed to me more grotesque than anything of Steven’s -London imaginings, that I should be wandering round at three in the -morning in the company of a stranger who bore a great golden statue of -a nude figure in his arms. When at last we reached the hotel I told the -night porter to get him a room, saying at the same time, “Mind you are -civil to him, for he has just been declared to be the strongest man in -England.” This went round the hotel, and I found that in the morning -he held quite a reception, all the maids and waiters paying homage -while he lay in bed with his statue beside him. He asked my advice -as to selling it, for it was of considerable value and seemed a white -elephant to a poor man. I told him he should open a gymnasium in his -native town and have the statue exhibited as an advertisement. This he -did, and I believe he has been very successful. - -A post-African task was the building up of rifle clubs, for I was -enormously impressed by the power of the rifle as shown in the recent -war. A soldier was no longer a specialized creature, but every brave -man who could hold a rifle-barrel straight was a dangerous man. I -founded the Undershaw Club, which was the father of many others, and -which was inspected by Lord Roberts, Mr. Seeley and other great men. -Within a year or two England was dotted with village clubs, though I -fear that few of them still hold their own. - -I was so struck by the factors in modern warfare and I had thought so -much about them in Africa that I wrote about them with some freedom and -possibly even with some bitterness, so that I speedily found myself -involved in hot controversy with Colonel Lonsdale Hale, “The Times” -expert, and also with Colonel Maude, a well-known military writer. -Perhaps as a civilian I should have expressed my views in a more -subdued way, but my feelings had been aroused by the conviction that -the lives of our men, and even the honour of our country, had been -jeopardized by the conservatism of the military and that it would so -happen again unless more modern views prevailed. I continued to advance -my theories for the next ten years, and I have no doubt, when I judge -them by the experience of the Great War, that in the main I was right. -The points which I made were roughly as follows: - -That the rifle (or machine-gun, which is a modified rifle) is the -supreme arbiter in war, and that therefore everything must be -sacrificed to concentrate upon that. - -That the only place for swords, lances and all the frippery of the past -was a museum. Bayonets also are very questionable. - -That cavalry could not divide their allegiance between rifle and sword -since entirely different ground and tactics are needed for each, the -swordsman looking for level sward, the rifleman looking for cover. -Therefore all cavalry should at once become Mounted Rifles. - -That the very heaviest guns of our fortresses or battleships would be -transported by road and used in the field in our next campaign. - -That field guns must take cover exactly as riflemen do. - -That the Yeomanry, a very expensive force, should be turned into a -Cyclist organization. - -In view of the fine work done by the Yeomanry, especially in the -Eastern deserts, I should reconsider the last item, and the bayonet -question is debatable, but all the rest will stand. I stressed the fact -also that the period of military training is placed too high, and that -an excellent army could be rapidly vamped up if you had the right men. -This also was proved by the war. - -I remember a debate which I attended as to the proper arms and use -of cavalry. The cavalry were there in force, all manner of gallant -fellows, moustached and debonnaire, inclined to glare at those who -would disarm them. Sir Taubman-Goldie was in the chair. Three of us, -all civilians, upheld the unpopular view that they should lose all -their glory and become sombre but deadly riflemen. It is curious now -to record that the three men were Erskine Childers, Lionel Amery and -myself. Childers was shot at dawn as a traitor to Ireland as well as -to Britain, Amery became First Lord of the Admiralty, and I write this -memoir. I remember Amery’s amusing comparison when he twitted the -cavalry with wishing to retain the _arme blanche_ simply because their -Continental antagonists would have it. “If you fight a rhinoceros,” he -said, “you don’t want to tie a horn on your nose.” It is an interesting -commentary upon this discussion that on one morning during the war -there were duels between two separate squadrons of British and German -cavalry. The first two squadrons, who were Lancers, rode through -each other’s ranks twice with loss on either side and no conclusive -result. In the second case German Lancers charged British Hussars, who -dismounted, used their carbines, and simply annihilated the small force -which attacked them. - -When my immediate preoccupations after the war had been got rid of, -I settled down to attempt some literary work upon a larger and more -ambitious scale than the Sherlock Holmes or Brigadier Gerard stories -which had occupied so much of my time. The result was “Sir Nigel,” in -which I reverted to the spacious days of the “White Company,” and used -some of the same characters. “Sir Nigel” represents in my opinion my -high-water mark in literature, and though that mark may be on sand, -still an author knows its comparative position to the others. It -received no particular recognition from critics or public, which was, -I admit, a disappointment to me. In England versatility is looked upon -with distrust. You may write ballad tunes or you may write grand opera, -but it cannot be admitted that the same man may be master of the whole -musical range and do either with equal success. - -In 1906 my wife passed away after the long illness which she had borne -with such exemplary patience. Her end was painless and serene. The -long fight had ended at last in defeat, but at least we had held the -vital fort for thirteen years after every expert had said that it was -untenable. For some time after these days of darkness I was unable to -settle to work, until the Edalji case came suddenly to turn my energies -into an entirely unexpected channel. - -It was in the year 1907 that this notorious case took up much of -my time, but it was not wasted, as it ended, after much labour, in -partially rectifying a very serious miscarriage of justice. The -facts of the case were a little complex and became more so as the -matter proceeded. George Edalji was a young law student, son of the -Reverend S. Edalji, the Parsee Vicar of the parish of Great Wyrley, -who had married an English lady. How the Vicar came to be a Parsee, -or how a Parsee came to be the Vicar, I have no idea. Perhaps some -Catholic-minded patron wished to demonstrate the universality of the -Anglican Church. The experiment will not, I hope, be repeated, for -though the Vicar was an amiable and devoted man, the appearance of a -coloured clergyman with a half-caste son in a rude, unrefined parish -was bound to cause some regrettable situation. - -But no one could have foreseen how serious that situation would -become. The family became the butt of certain malicious wags in the -neighbourhood and were bombarded with anonymous letters, some of them -of the most monstrous description. There was worse, however, to come. A -horrible epidemic of horse-maiming had broken out, proceeding evidently -from some blood-lusting lunatic of Sadic propensities. These outrages -continued for a long time, and the local police were naturally much -criticized for doing nothing. It would have been as well had they -continued to do nothing, for they ended by arresting George Edalji -for the crime, the main evidence being that there were signs that the -writer of the anonymous letters knew something about the crimes, and -that it was thought that young Edalji had written the anonymous letters -which had plagued his family so long. The evidence was incredibly weak, -and yet the police, all pulling together and twisting all things to -their end, managed to get a conviction at the Stafford Quarter Sessions -in 1903. The prisoner was sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude. - -There were some murmurs among discerning people at the time, and Mr. -Voules, of “Truth,” has an honourable record for having kept some sort -of agitation going, but nothing practical was done until the unhappy -youth had already served three years of his sentence. It was late in -1906 that I chanced to pick up an obscure paper called “The Umpire,” -and my eye caught an article which was a statement of his case, made by -himself. As I read, the unmistakable accent of truth forced itself upon -my attention and I realized that I was in the presence of an appalling -tragedy, and that I was called upon to do what I could to set it right. -I got other papers on the case, studied the original trial, went up to -Staffordshire and saw the family, went over the scene of the crimes -and finally wrote a series of articles on the case, which began in the -“Daily Telegraph” of January 12, 1907. As I bargained that they should -be non-copyright they were largely transferred to other papers, sold -for a penny at street-curbs and generally had a very wide circulation, -so that England soon rang with the wrongs of George Edalji. - -These wrongs would have been almost comic had they not had so tragic -an upshot. If the whole land had been raked, I do not think that it -would have been possible to find a man who was so unlikely, and indeed -so incapable, of committing such actions. He was of irreproachable -character. Nothing in his life had ever been urged against him. His -old schoolmaster with years of experience testified to his mild and -tractable disposition. He had served his time with a Birmingham -solicitor, who gave him the highest references. He had never shown -traits of cruelty. He was so devoted to his work that he had won the -highest honours in the legal classes, and he had already at the age of -twenty-seven written a book upon Railway Law. Finally he was a total -abstainer, and so blind that he was unable to recognize any one at the -distance of six yards. It was clear that the inherent improbability of -such a man committing a long succession of bloody and brutal crimes was -so great that it could only be met by the suggestion of insanity. There -had never, however, been any indication even of eccentricity in George -Edalji. On the contrary, his statements of defence were measured and -rational, and he had come through a series of experiences which might -well have unhinged a weaker intellect. - -The original theory at the trial had been that Edalji had committed -the particular mutilations with which he was charged some time in the -evening. This line of attack broke down completely, and he was able -to advance a certain _alibi_. In the middle of the case, therefore, -the police prosecution shifted its ground and advanced the new theory -that it was done in the early hours of the morning. George Edalji, as -it happened, slept in the same room as his father, the parish vicar. -The latter is a light sleeper and is accustomed, as many people are, -to assure privacy by turning the key of his room. He swore that George -never left the room during the night. This may not constitute an -absolute _alibi_ in the eye of the law, but it is difficult to imagine -anything nearer to one unless a sentinel had been placed outside the -door all night. It is so near an _alibi_ that nothing but the most -cogent considerations could shake it, but far from there being any -such considerations, the case was such a thing of threads and patches -that one cannot imagine how any sane jury could have accepted it, even -though the defence was weakly conducted. So bad was this defence that -in the whole trial no mention, so far as I could ascertain, was ever -made of the fact that the man was practically blind, save in good -light, while between his house and the place where the mutilation was -committed lay the full breadth of the London and North-Western Railway, -an expanse of rails, wires and other obstacles, with hedges to be -forced on either side, so that I, a strong and active man, in broad -daylight found it a hard matter to pass. - -What aroused my indignation and gave me the driving force to carry -the thing through was the utter helplessness of this forlorn little -group of people, the coloured clergyman in his strange position, the -brave blue-eyed, grey-haired wife, the young daughter, baited by -brutal boors and having the police, who should have been their natural -protectors, adopting from the beginning a harsh tone towards them and -accusing them, beyond all sense and reason, of being the cause of -their own troubles and of persecuting and maligning themselves. Such -an exhibition, sustained, I am sorry to say, by Lord Gladstone and all -the forces of the Home Office, would have been incredible had I not -actually examined the facts. - -The articles caused a storm of indignation through the country. -“Truth,” Sir George Lewis and other forces joined in the good work. -A committee was formed by the Government to examine and report. It -consisted of Sir Arthur Wilson, the Hon. John Lloyd Wharton and Sir -Albert de Rutzen. Their finding, which came to hand in June, was a -compromise document, for though they were severe upon the condemnation -of Edalji and saw no evidence which associated him with the crime, they -still clung to the theory that he had written the anonymous letters, -that he had therefore been himself contributory to the miscarriage of -justice, and that for this reason all compensation for his long period -of suffering should be denied him. - -It was a wretched decision, and the Law Society at the prompting of -Sir George Lewis showed what they thought of it by at once readmitting -Edalji to the roll of solicitors with leave to practise, which they -would never have done had they thought him capable of dishonourable -conduct. But the result stands. To this day this unfortunate man, whose -humble family has paid many hundreds of pounds in expenses, has never -been able to get one shilling of compensation for the wrong done. It -is a blot upon the record of English Justice, and even now it should -be wiped out. It is to be remembered that the man was never tried for -writing the letters--a charge which could not have been sustained--so -that as the matter stands he has got no redress for three years of -admitted false imprisonment, on the score that he did something else -for which he has never been tried. What a travesty of Justice! The -“Daily Telegraph” got up a subscription for him which ran to some -£300. The first use that he made of the money was to repay an old aunt -who had advanced the funds for his defence. He came to my wedding -reception, and there was no guest whom I was prouder to see. - -So far, my work had been satisfactory. Where I caused myself great -trouble was that in my local exploration at Wyrley I had come -across what seemed to me a very direct clue as to both the writer, -or rather writers, of the letters, and also of the identity of the -mutilator--though the latter word may also have been in the plural. I -became interested, the more so as the facts were very complex and I had -to do with people who were insane as well as criminal. I have several -letters threatening my life in the same writing as those which assailed -the Edaljis--a fact which did not appear to shake in the least the Home -Office conviction that George Edalji had written them all. Mentally I -began to class the Home Office officials as insane also. The sad fact -is that officialdom in England stands solid together, and that when you -are forced to attack it you need not expect justice, but rather that -you are up against an unavowed Trade Union the members of which are not -going to act the blackleg to each other, and which subordinates the -public interest to a false idea of loyalty. What confronts you is a -determination to admit nothing which inculpates another official, and -as to the idea of punishing another official for offences which have -caused misery to helpless victims, it never comes within their horizon. -Even now, after the lapse of so many years, I can hardly think with -patience of the handling of this case. - -The mistake that I made, so far as my own interests were concerned, was -that having got on the track of the miscreant I let the police and -the Home Office know my results before they were absolutely completed. -There was a strong _primâ facie_ case, but it needed the goodwill and -co-operation of the authorities to ram it home. That co-operation was -wanting, which was intelligible, in the case of the local police, -since it traversed their previous convictions and conclusions, but was -inexcusable in the Home Office. The law officers of the Crown upheld -their view that there was not a _primâ facie_ case, but I fear that -consciously or unconsciously the same trade union principle was at -work. Let me briefly state the case that the public may judge. I will -call the suspect “X.” I was able to show: - -1. That “X” had shown a peculiar knife or horse-lancet to some one -and had stated that this knife did the crimes. I had this knife in my -possession. - -2. That this knife or a similar knife must have been used in _some_ of -the crimes, as shown by the shallow incision. - -3. That “X” had been trained in the slaughter-yard and the cattle-ship, -and was accustomed to brutal treatment of animals. - -4. That he had a clear record both of anonymous letters and of -destructive propensities. - -5. That his writing and that of his brother exactly fitted into the two -writings of the anonymous letters. In this I had strong independent -evidence. - -6. That he had shown signs of periodical insanity, and that his -household and bedroom were such that he could leave unseen at any hour -of the night. - -There were very many corroborative evidences, but those were the main -ones, coupled with the fact that when “X” was away for some years the -letters and outrages stopped, but began again when he returned. On the -other hand, when Edalji was put in prison the outrages went on the same -as before. - -It will hardly be believed that after I had laid these facts before -the Home Office they managed to present the House of Commons with the -official legal opinion that there was not a _primâ facie_ case, while -a high official of the Government said to me: “I see no more evidence -against these two brothers than against myself and my brother.” -The points I mention are taken from the paper I laid before the law -officers of the Crown, which lies before me as I write, so the facts -are exactly as stated. - -I had one letter in sorrow and also in anger from the Staffordshire -police complaining that I should be libelling this poor young man whose -identity could easily be established. - -I do not know what has become of “X” or how often he has been convicted -since, but on the last occasion of which I have notes the magistrate -said in condemning him to six months’ imprisonment with hard labour: -“His character was extremely bad, he having been convicted of arson, of -stealing on three occasions and of damage. On his own confession he had -committed a deliberate and cruel theft from his aged mother and it was -impossible to overlook the seriousness of the case.” So much for the -inoffensive youth whom I had libelled! But what about Edalji’s three -years of gaol? - -On September 18, 1907, I married Miss Jean Leckie, the younger daughter -of a Blackheath family whom I had known for years, and who was a dear -friend of my mother and sister. There are some things which one feels -too intimately to be able to express, and I can only say that the years -have passed without one shadow coming to mar even for a moment the -sunshine of my Indian summer which now deepens to a golden autumn. She -and my three younger children with the kindly sympathy of my two elder -ones have made my home an ideally happy one. - -My wife’s people had a house at Crowborough, and there they had gone -to reside. As they were very attached I thought it would be a happy -arrangement not to separate them, so I bought a house close by, named -“Windlesham.” As I paid for it by a sum of money which I recovered -after I had been unjustly defrauded of it, my friends suggested -“Swindlesham” as a more appropriate name. Thus it came about that in -1907 I left Undershaw, Hindhead, after ten years’ residence, and moved -myself and my belongings to the highlands of Sussex, where I still -dwell in the few months of settled life which give me a rest between my -wanderings. - -Very soon after my marriage, having just got clear of the Edalji case, -I became entangled in that of Oscar Slater. The one was in a way the -cause of the other, for since I was generally given credit for having -got Edalji out of his troubles, it was hoped by those who believed that -Slater’s condemnation was a miscarriage of justice that I might be able -to do the same for him. I went into the matter most reluctantly, but -when I glanced at the facts, I saw that it was an even worse case than -the Edalji one, and that this unhappy man had in all probability no -more to do with the murder for which he had been condemned than I had. -I am convinced that when on being convicted he cried out to the judge -that he never knew that such a woman as the murdered woman existed he -was speaking the literal truth. - -In one respect the Oscar Slater case was not so serious as the Edalji -one, because Slater was not a very desirable member of society. He had -never, so far as is known, been in trouble as a criminal, but he was a -gambler and adventurer of uncertain morals and dubious ways--a German -Jew by extraction, living under an alias. Edalji, on the other hand, -was a blameless youth. But in another aspect Slater’s case was worse -than that of Edalji, since the charge was murder. He was very nearly -hanged, and finally the life sentence was actually carried out, so that -the wrong was never righted and at the present moment the unfortunate -man is in gaol. It is a dreadful blot upon the administration of -justice in Scotland, and such judicial crimes are not, I am convinced, -done with impunity even to the most humble. Somehow--somewhere, there -comes a national punishment in return. - -The case was roughly this: an elderly woman, Miss Gilchrist, was done -to death most brutally in her flat, while her servant-maid, Helen -Lambie, was absent for ten minutes on an errand. Her head was beaten -to pieces by some hard instrument. The neighbours were alarmed by -the noise, and one of them, together with the maid, actually saw the -murderer, a young man, leave the flat and pass him at the door. The -police description at the time was by no means in agreement with -Slater’s appearance. Robbery did not appear to be the motive of the -crime, for nothing was missing unless it was a single diamond brooch. -On the other hand, a box of papers had been broken into and left in -disorder. The date was December 21, 1908. - -And now comes the great fact which is admitted by all, and which makes -the whole case wildly improbable if not utterly impossible. It was -thought that a diamond brooch had been taken. It was found out that a -diamond brooch had also been pawned by the Bohemian Slater, who had -started for America. Was it not clear that he was the murderer? New -York was warned. Slater was arrested and in due time was returned to -Glasgow. Then came the fiasco. It was found beyond all doubt that the -brooch in question had been in Slater’s possession for years, and that -it had nothing to do with Miss Gilchrist at all. - -This should have been the end of the case. It was too preposterous to -suppose that out of all the folk in Glasgow the police had arrested -the right man by pure chance--for that was what it amounted to. But -the public had lost its head, and so had the police. If the case had -completely gone to pieces surely it could be reconstructed in some -fresh form. Slater was poor and friendless. He had lived with a woman, -which shocked Scotch morality. As one writer boldly said in the press: -“Even if he did not do it, he deserved to be condemned, anyhow.” A case -was made up in the most absurd manner. A half-crown card of tools was -found in his box with the sort of tools which are found on such cards. -The frail hammer was evidently the instrument which had beaten in the -woman’s skull. The handle might have been cleaned. Then surely there -had been blood on it. The police description was already amended so as -to be nearer to Slater. He, a sallow, dark-haired Jew, was picked out -by witnesses from among a group of fair Scotsmen. Some one had been -seen waiting in the street for some nights before. This some one was -variously described by many witnesses. Some descriptions would fit -Slater, some were his very opposite. The people who saw the murderer -leave thought it might be Slater, but were not sure. The chief witness, -Adams, was very short-sighted and had not his glasses. A clear _alibi_ -was proved by Slater, but as his mistress and his servant girl were -the witnesses, it was not allowed. Whom could he produce save the -inmates of his house? No attempt was ever made to show that Slater had -any connection with Miss Gilchrist, or with the maid, Lambie, and as -Slater was really a stranger in Glasgow, it was impossible to see how -he could have known anything about this retired old maid. But he was -not too well defended, while Mr. Ure, the Advocate-General of Scotland, -prosecuting for the State, thundered away in a most violent speech in -which several statements were made, uncorrected by Judge Guthrie, which -were very inexact, and which must have powerfully swayed the jury. -Finally, the Crown got a conviction by nine votes to six (five “not -proven”)--which, of course, would have meant a new trial in England, -and the wretched foreigner was condemned to death. The scaffold was -actually erected, and it was only two mornings before his execution -that the order came which prevented a judicial murder. As it was, the -man became a convict--and is one still. - -It is an atrocious story, and as I read it and realized the wickedness -of it all, I was moved to do all I could for the man. I was aided by -the opinion of Sir Herbert Stephen, who read the evidence and declared -that there was not even a _primâ facie_ case against the man. I, -therefore, started a newspaper agitation and wrote a small book with an -account of the whole matter. The consciences of some people responded, -and finally we got up sufficient pressure to induce the Government to -appoint a Commissioner, Sheriff Miller, to examine the case. It was all -to no purpose, and the examination was a farce. The terms of reference -were so narrow that the conduct of the police was entirely excluded, -which was really the very thing at issue, since we held that where -their original evidence failed them, they had strained many points in -trying to build up a case and to obtain a verdict. It was also decided -that evidence should not be on oath. The result was that there was no -result nor could there be with such limitations. None the less, some -fresh evidence was put forward which further weakened the already very -weak case for the prosecution. For example, at the trial it had been -stated that Slater, on reaching Liverpool from Glasgow, had gone to a -Liverpool hotel under a false name, as if he were trying to throw the -police off his track. It was shown that this was not true, and that he -had signed the register with his own Glasgow name. I say his Glasgow -name, for he had several pseudonyms in the course of his not too -reputable career, and, as a fact, he took his actual passage under a -false name, showing that he intended to make a clear start in America. -He was, according to his own account, pursued by some woman--probably -his lawful wife--and this covering of tracks was to escape this -huntress. The fact that he used his own name at the hotel showed that -the new name was for American rather than for British use, and that he -had no fear of Glasgow pursuit. - -We could do no more, and there the matter rested. There was a very -ugly aftermath of the case, which consisted of what appeared to be -persecution of Mr. Trench, a detective who had given evidence at -the inquiry which told in favour of our view. A charge was shortly -afterwards made against both him and a solicitor, Mr. Cook, who had -been conspicuous upon Slater’s side, which might well have ruined them -both. As it was, it caused them great anxiety and expense. There had -been a most unpleasant political flavour to the whole proceedings; -but on this occasion the case came before a Conservative Judge, Mr. -Scott Dickson, who declared that it should never have been brought -into court, and dismissed it forthwith with contempt. It is a curious -circumstance that as I write, in 1924, Judge Guthrie, Cook, Trench, -Helen Lambie, Miller and others have all passed on. But Slater still -remains, eating out his heart at Peterhead. - -One strange psychic fact should be mentioned which was brought to my -notice by an eminent English K.C. There was a Spiritualist circle which -used to meet at Falkirk, and shortly after the trial messages were -received by it which purported to come from the murdered woman. She was -asked what the weapon was which had slain her. She answered that it -was an iron box-opener. Now I had pondered over the nature of certain -wounds in the woman’s face, which consisted of two cuts with a little -bridge of unbroken skin between. They might have been caused by the -claw end of a hammer, but on the other hand, one of the woman’s eyes -had been pushed back into her brain, which could hardly have been done -by a hammer, which would have burst the eyeball first. I could think -of no instrument which would meet the case. But the box-opener would -exactly do so, for it has a forked end which would make the double -wound, and it is also straight so that it might very well penetrate to -the brain, driving the eye in front of it. The reader will reasonably -ask why did not the Spiritualists ask the name of the criminal. I -believe that they did and received a reply, but I do not think that -such evidence could or should ever be used or published. It could only -be useful as the starting point of an inquiry. - - * * * * * - -There was one intervention during those years to which I look back with -satisfaction, and that was my protest against the King’s Oath before -the Coronation of King Edward. The Oath was actually changed, and -though my protest may have had no effect upon that historic fact, it -was none the less the first letter in “The Times” upon the subject. - -It ran thus: - - SIR,-- - - Surely Colonel Sandys and the members of the Protestant Reformation - Society should, looking at the matter simply from their own point of - view, recognize that the surest way to strengthen any creed is, as - the whole history of the world has proved, to persecute it. And it is - mere juggling with words to attempt to show that it is anything other - than persecution to hold up the Roman Catholic faith to obloquy in the - Coronation Oath, while every other creed, Christian or non-Christian, - is left unassailed. Is it not a shocking thing that, while Roman - Catholic chapels throughout the whole Empire are still draped in black - for a deceased Monarch, his successor should be compelled by law to - insult the most intimate convictions of these same mourners? - - And is it not a most narrow and foolish policy, unworthy of this - tolerant age, that a young King should be forced to offend the - feelings of great numbers of Irishmen, Canadians and other subjects? - I feel sure that, apart from Catholics, the great majority of - broad-minded thinkers of any or of no denomination in this country are - of opinion that the outcry of fanatics should be disregarded, and that - all creeds should receive the same courteous and respectful treatment - so long as their adherents are members of the common Empire. To bring - these medieval rancours to an end would indeed be an auspicious - opening of a new reign. - - Yours faithfully, - ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE YEARS BETWEEN THE WARS - - Constantinople--The Night of Power--A Strange - Creature--Dorando--Dramatic Adventures--The Congo Agitation--Olympic - Games--Divorce Reform--Psychic Experience--Speculation. - - -Years of peaceful work followed my marriage, broken only by two -journeys to the Mediterranean, in the course of which we explored some -out-of-the-way portions of Greece, and visited Egypt, where I found -hardly one single man left of all the good fellows whom I had once -known. In the course of our travels we visited Constantinople, looking -at the great guns in the forts on the Dardanelles, with little thought -of all the British lives which were to be sacrificed upon those low, -dark, heather-clad hills which slope down to the Northern shore. In -Constantinople we attended the weekly selamlik of Abdul Hamid, and saw -him with his dyed beard and the ladies of his harem as they passed -down to their devotions. It was an incredible sight to Western eyes to -see the crowd of officers and officials, many of them fat and short -of wind, who ran like dogs behind his carriage in the hope that they -might catch the Imperial eye. It was Ramadan, and the old Sultan sent -me a message that he had read my books and that he would gladly have -seen me had it not been the Holy month. He interviewed me through his -Chamberlain and presented me with the Order of the Medjedie, and, -what was more pleasing to me, he gave the Order of the Chevekat to my -wife. As this is the Order of Compassion, and as my wife ever since -she set foot in Constantinople had been endeavouring to feed the horde -of starving dogs who roamed the streets, no gift could have been more -appropriate. - -[Illustration: LADY CONAN DOYLE, 1920. - - _Sterling, Melbourne._] - -We were admitted secretly and by very special favour into the great -Mosque of Sophia during the sacred festival which is known as the Night -of Power. It was a most marvellous spectacle as from the upper circle -of pillared arches we looked down upon 60,000 lighted lamps and -12,000 worshippers, who made, as they rose and fell in their devotions, -a sound like the wash of the sea. The priests in their high pulpits -were screaming like seagulls, and fanaticism was in the air. It was at -this moment that I saw a woman--I will not call her a lady--young and -flighty, seat herself jauntily on the edge of the stone parapet, and -look down at the 12,000 men who were facing us. No unbeliever should -be tolerated there, and a woman was the abomination of abominations. -I heard a low deep growl and saw fierce bearded faces looking up. It -only needed one fiery spirit to head the rush and we should have been -massacred--with the poor consolation that some of us at least had -really asked for it. However, she was pulled down, and we made our way -as quickly and as quietly as possible out of a side door. It was time, -I think. - -One curious incident of our journey stands out in my memory. We were -steaming past Ægina on a lovely day with calm water around us. The -captain, a courteous Italian, had allowed us to go upon the bridge, and -we--my wife and I--were looking down into the transparent depths when -we both clearly saw a creature which has never, so far as I know, been -described by Science. It was exactly like a young ichthyosaurus, about -4 feet long, with thin neck and tail, and four marked side-flippers. -The ship had passed it before we could call any other observer. I was -interested to notice that Admiral Anstruther in the “Evening News” some -years later described, and drew, an exactly similar creature which he -had seen under water off the Irish coast. This old world has got some -surprises for us yet. - -Here and there, as I look back at those long and happy years, some -particular episode flashes vividly into my memory. I do not often -do journalistic work--why should one poach upon the preserves of -others?--but on the occasion of the Olympic Games of 1908 I was -tempted, chiefly by the offer of an excellent seat, to do the Marathon -Race for the “Daily Mail.” It was certainly a wonderful experience, for -it will be known to history as the Dorando Race. Perhaps a few short -paragraphs from my description may even now recapture the thrill of it. -The huge crowd--some 50,000 people--were all watching the entrance to -the stadium, the dark gap through which the leader must appear. Then-- - -“At last he came. But how different from the exultant victor whom we -expected! Out of the dark archway there staggered a little man, with -red running-drawers, a tiny boy-like creature. He reeled as he entered -and faced the roar of the applause. Then he feebly turned to the left -and wearily trotted round the track. Friends and encouragers were -pressing round him. - -“Suddenly the whole group stopped. There were wild gesticulations. Men -stooped and rose again. Good heavens! he has fainted; is it possible -that even at this last moment the prize may slip through his fingers? -Every eye slides round to that dark archway. No second man has yet -appeared. Then a great sigh of relief goes up. I do not think in all -that great assembly any man would have wished victory to be torn at the -last instant from this plucky little Italian. He has won it. He should -have it. - -“Thank God, he is on his feet again--the little red legs going -incoherently, but drumming hard, driven by a supreme will within. -There is a groan as he falls once more and a cheer as he staggers to -his feet. It is horrible, and yet fascinating, this struggle between -a set purpose and an utterly exhausted frame. Again, for a hundred -yards, he ran in the same furious and yet uncertain gait. Then again he -collapsed, kind hands saving him from a heavy fall. - -“He was within a few yards of my seat. Amid stooping figures and -grasping hands I caught a glimpse of the haggard, yellow face, the -glazed, expressionless eyes, the lank black hair streaked across the -brow. Surely he is done now. He cannot rise again. - -“From under the archway has darted the second runner, Hayes, Stars and -Stripes on his breast, going gallantly, well within his strength. There -is only twenty yards to do if the Italian can do it. He staggered up, -no trace of intelligence upon his set face, and again the red legs -broke into their strange automatic amble. - -“Will he fall again? No, he sways, he balances, and then he is through -the tape and into a score of friendly arms. He has gone to the extreme -of human endurance. No Roman of the prime ever bore himself better than -Dorando of the Olympic of 1908. The great breed is not yet extinct.” - -Of course the prize went to the American, as his rival had been -helped, but the sympathy of the crowd, and I am sure of every sporting -American present, went out to the little Italian. I not only wrote -Dorando up, but I started a subscription for him in the “Daily Mail,” -which realized over £300--a fortune in his Italian village--so that he -was able to start a baker’s shop, which he could not have done on an -Olympic medal. My wife made the presentation in English, which he could -not understand; he answered in Italian, which we could not understand; -but I think we really did understand each other all the same. - -There is no denying that the American team were very unpopular in -London, though the unpopularity was not national, for the stadium was -thick with American flags. Everyone admitted that they were a splendid -lot of athletes, but they were not wisely handled and I saw with my -own eyes that they did things which would not have been tolerated if -done by an English team in New York. However, there may well have -been some want of tact on both sides, and causes at work of which the -public knew nothing. When I consider the Dunraven Yacht race, and then -these Olympic Games, I am by no means assured that sport has that -international effect for good which some people have claimed for it. I -wonder whether any of the old Grecian wars had their real origin in the -awards at Olympia. I may add that we had a dozen or so of the American -boys down to “Windlesham,” where we had a very pleasant day together. -I found them all excellent fellows. I put up a billiard Olympic prize, -and one of them bore it off with him. The whole incident was very -pleasant. - -My work for a few years after my marriage ran largely in the direction -of drama, and if it was not lucrative it at least provided us with a -good deal of amusement and excitement. In the case of one venture this -excitement became a little too poignant, though all ended well in the -end. I had dramatized “Rodney Stone” under the name of “The House of -Temperley,” with all the ring scenes and prize fights included, and -treated in the most realistic fashion. We had an excellent boxing -instructor who took one of the smaller parts and who not only fought -himself but trained the others to a remarkable degree of skill. So -realistic was it that when on the first night the bully, Berks, after -a long encounter, went down with a crash from a fine raking uppercut, -there was an involuntary groan from the whole house, which meant -as clearly as could be, “There now, you have killed a man for our -amusement.” It was really incredibly well done and I could never have -believed that such scenes could be so cleverly faked, though it was -not always done with impunity, for Rex Davies, who played Gloucester -Dick, assured me that he lost a tooth and broke both a finger and a rib -during his engagement. The play itself was unequal, but was so very -novel and sensational in its best scenes that it should have been a -considerable success. I found no manager who would take the risk, and -I had myself to take the Adelphi Theatre for a six months’ lease, at a -rent which with the Company worked out at about £600 a week. As on the -top of this the production cost about £2,000, it will be seen that I -was plunging rather deep. - -And luck did not favour us. The furore for boxing had not yet set -in. Ladies were afraid to come, and imagined it would be a brutal -spectacle. Those who did come were exhilarated beyond measure, but -the prejudice still weighed heavily against us. Then there came one -of those theatrical slumps when everything goes wrong, and finally -King Edward died and that killed it outright. It was a very serious -situation. I still had the theatre upon my hands. I might sublet it, or -I might not. If I did not, the expense was simply ruinous. - -It was under these circumstances that, as I have already said, I wrote -and rehearsed “The Speckled Band” in record time, and so saved the -situation. The real fault of this play was that in trying to give -Holmes a worthy antagonist I overdid it and produced a more interesting -personality in the villain. The terrible ending was also against it. -However, it was a considerable success and saved a difficult--almost a -desperate--situation. - -Yet another theatrical venture was my “Fires of Fate,” some of which -is certainly the best dramatic work that I have ever done. It was -unlucky, as it was produced in a very hot summer. I carried it at my -own expense through the two impossible holiday months, but when Lewis -Waller, who played the hero, returned from a provincial tour to London, -he was keen on some new play and my “Fires” were never really burned -out. I fancy sometimes that they might even now flame up again if given -a chance. I stage managed most of this play myself, and with curious -results. There are certain dramatic conventionalities which can only be -broken through by one who is not himself an actor. There was a scene -where a number of helpless tourists, men and women, were brutally -ill-treated by Arabs. The brutality in rehearsal was conventional. -I made the Arabs get imitation whips and cudgels and really savage -the poor travellers. The effect was novel and appalling. There was a -young Welsh officer in the front of the stalls who was a friend of my -brother’s. He held both the V.C. and the D.S.O. So stirred was he by -the sight that he could hardly be restrained from clambering on to the -stage in order to help the unhappy tourists. The end of that act, when -the drove of bleeding captives are led away and you hear the monotonous -song of the Arabs as they march, and you see Lewis Waller, who has been -left for dead, struggle up on his elbow and signal across the Nile for -assistance, was one which brought the whole house to its feet. Such -moments to a dramatist give a thrill of personal satisfaction such as -the most successful novelist never can feel. There is no more subtle -pleasure if you are really satisfied with your work than to sit in the -shadow of a box and watch not the play but the audience. - -I had one other dramatic venture, “Brigadier Gerard,” which also was -mildly successful. In fact, I have never known failure on the stage -save in the case of the unfortunate “Jane Annie.” Lewis Waller played -the Brigadier and a splendid dashing Hussar he made. It was a glorious -performance. I remember that in this play also I ran up against the -conventionalities of the stage. I had a group of Hussar officers, -the remnants of the regiment which had gone through Napoleon’s last -campaign. When it came to the dress rehearsal, I found them, to my -horror, dressed up in brand new uniforms of chestnut and silver. “Good -heavens!” I cried. “This is not a comic opera!” “What do you want -done?” asked Waller. “Why,” said I, “these men are warriors, not ballet -dancers. They have been out in all weathers day and night for months. -Every scrap of truth goes out of the play if they appear like that.” -The uniforms had cost over a hundred pounds, but I covered them with -mud and dust and tore holes in them. The result was that, with begrimed -faces, I got a band of real Napoleonic soldiers. Waller himself -insisted on retaining his grease paint and his nice new clothes, but I -am sure every man in the audience, if not every woman, would have liked -him better as I had made the others. Poor Lewis Waller! There was some -strange and wonderful blood in his veins. He was a glorious fellow, and -his premature death a great blow to our stage. What virility! What a -face and figure! They called him the “Flappers’ idol,” and it reflects -credit on the flapper, for where could she find a less sickly and more -manly type. He caught his fatal illness in serving the soldiers. One of -his greatest possessions was his voice. He came down to “Windlesham” -once, and as he was reciting in the music-room that wonderful resonant -voice chanced to catch the exact note which corresponded to the curve -of all the glass lampshades on the walls. They all started thrilling -as a wine-glass does when it is touched. I could quite believe after -that, that matter could be disintegrated by sound if the sound were -strong enough. I am not clear what blood ran in Waller’s veins, Hebrew -or Basque or both. I only know that it went to make a very wonderful -man. His intense feeling about everything that he did was one of his -characteristics and no doubt a cause of his success. It did not carry -him far in golf, however. I remember hearing him as he approached the -last tee mutter, “God, give me _one_ good drive.” I fear, however, that -the betting was against it. - -In 1910 a fresh task opened up before me. It arose from my being deeply -moved by reading some of the evidence concerning the evil rule, not of -Belgium, but of the King of the Belgians in the Congo. I examined this -evidence carefully before I accepted it, and I assured myself that it -was supported by five British Consuls and by Lord Cromer, as well as -by travellers of many races, Belgian, French, American, Swedish and -others. An attempt has been made since to minimize the facts and to -pretend that Roger Casement had been at the back of the agitation for -sinister purposes of his own. This contention is quite untenable and -the evidence for the atrocities is overwhelming and from very many -sources, the Belgians themselves being among the best witnesses. I put -in some two years working with Mr. Morel and occasionally lecturing in -the country upon this question, and it was certainly the efforts of -the Congo Association which we represented, that eventually brought -the question to the notice of that noble man King Albert which meant -setting it right so that the colony is now, so far as I know, very well -managed. Casement, whom I shall always regard as a fine man afflicted -with mania, has met his tragic end, and Morel’s views upon the war have -destroyed the feelings which I had for him, but I shall always maintain -that they both did noble work in championing the wrongs of those -unhappy and helpless negroes. My own book “The Crime of the Congo,” -which was translated into all European languages, had also, I hope, -some influence towards that end. - -In the early summer of 1912 I had a telegram from Lord Northcliffe -which let me in for about as much trouble as any communication which I -have ever received. It was to the effect that Britain must regain her -place among the athletic nations which had been temporarily eclipsed -by the Olympic Games at Stockholm, and that I was the one man in Great -Britain who could rally round me the various discordant forces which -had to be united and used. This was very complimentary, but it was Lord -Northcliffe’s sole contribution to the matter for a very long time, and -I was left to my own devices entirely in carrying out a complex task. -So badly co-ordinated were Northcliffe’s papers that I had some of them -actually attacking me while I was working on their chief’s suggestion. - -When I examined I found chaos. On the one hand was the British Olympic -Committee, a most sound and respectable body, under Lord Desborough. In -some way they had lost touch with press and public and were generally -in disfavour, though really they had done their best. On the other -hand was “The Times,” which had worked itself into a fury about the -misdeeds of the Committee, and had set a tone which poisoned the -whole press against them. Lord Northcliffe would have nothing to do -with anything which emanated from the Committee; the Committee defied -Lord Northcliffe. It was clear that this had to be cleared up as a -preliminary, and the matter took enough diplomacy to have settled the -Balkan question. I called upon the Committee and suggested that an -independent body be formed on which they could be represented. To this -they agreed. I then called on “The Times” and said: “You are no longer -dealing with the old Olympic Committee, but with a new body. Do you -agree to this?” Yes, that was all in order. I may have omitted the -trifling fact that the new body did not yet exist. I then asked Mr. -Studd, the famous cricketer of old and head of the Polytechnic to help -me to form the new body. We soon had a very effective one, including -several leading athletes and Lord Forster, now Governor-General of -Australia. I served, of course, on the Committee, and soon we were in -touch with every one and all promised to go smoothly. - -But presently a huge mistake was made. I don’t wish to represent -myself as the fount of all wisdom, and no doubt I make as many slips -as my fellows, but that particular one would never have been made had -I been present, but I was called away and was out of the country at -that crucial Committee meeting. It had been already determined that -an appeal to the public over all our names should be issued. The -amount had not been discussed, but in my own mind I had thought that -£10,000 would suffice. I was horrified, therefore, when I returned -from my holiday to find that they had appealed for £100,000. The sum -was absurd, and at once brought upon us from all sides the charge -of developing professionalism. My position was very difficult. If I -protested now it would go far to ruin the appeal. After all it might -succeed. I could only fall into line with the others and do my best -for the sake of the cause to defend a policy which I looked upon as -mistaken. We actually collected about £7,000, and finally, as we found -that the general feeling was either hostile or apathetic, we handed -over this sum to the Olympic Committee. Then came the war, and so in -any case our labour was in vain, for the Games were to be in Berlin -in 1916. We were all playing another game by then. This matter was -spread over a year of my life and was the most barren thing that I -ever touched, for nothing came of it, and I cannot trace that I ever -received one word of thanks from any human being. I was on my guard -against Northcliffe telegrams after that. - -I remember one curious episode about that time. I was staying in a -Northumberland Avenue Hotel, and I walked out at night in pensive mood, -strolling down the Embankment and watching the great dark river with -the gleam of the lights upon it. Suddenly a man passed me, walking very -rapidly and muttering in an incoherent way. He gave me an impression of -desperation and I quickened my pace and followed him. With a rush he -sprang up on the parapet and seemed to be about to throw himself into -the river. I was just in time to catch his knees and to pull him down. -He struggled hard to get up, but I put my arm through his and led him -across the road. There I reasoned with him and examined into the cause -of his troubles. He had had some domestic quarrel, I believe, but his -main worry was his business, which was that of a baker. He seemed a -respectable man and the case seemed genuine, so I calmed him down, gave -him such immediate help as I could, and made him promise to return home -and to keep in touch with me afterwards. - -When the excitement of the incident was over, I had grave doubts as -to whether I had not been the victim of a clever swindler. I was -considerably relieved, therefore, to get a letter a few days later, -giving name and address, and obviously genuine. I lost sight of the -case after that. - -Another matter which preoccupied me much in the years before the war, -and preoccupies me still, is the Reform of our Divorce Laws. I was -president of the Reform Union for ten years and have only just vacated -the position in order to make room for a far more efficient successor -in Lord Birkenhead. I am quite alive to all the arguments of our -opponents, and quite understand that laxity in the marriage tie is an -evil, but I cannot understand why England should lag behind every other -Protestant country in the world, and even behind Scotland, so that -unions which are obviously disgusting and degrading are maintained in -this country while they can be dissolved in our Colonies or abroad. -As to morality I cannot, I fear, admit that our morality here is in -the least better than in Scandinavia, Holland or Germany, where they -have more rational laws. I think that in some States in America they -have pushed Divorce to an extreme, but even in America I should say -that married happiness and morality generally are quite as high as -with us. The House of Lords has shown itself to be more liberal in -this matter than the Commons, possibly because the latter have a fear -of organized Church influence in their constituencies. It is one of -several questions which makes me not sorry to see Labour, with its -larger outlook, in power for a time in this country. Our marriage laws, -our land laws, the cheapening of justice and many other things have -long called out for reform, and if the old parties will not do it then -we must seek some new one which will. - -During these long and happy years, when the smooth current of our -national life was quietly sliding toward Niagara, I did not lose my -interest in psychic matters, but I cannot say that I increased my grasp -of the religious or spiritual side of the subject. I read, however, -and investigated whenever the chance arose. A gentleman had arranged -a series of psychical séances in a large studio in North London, and -I attended them, the mediums being Cecil Husk and Craddock. They left -a very mixed impression upon my mind, for in some cases, I was filled -with suspicion and in others I was quite sure that the result was -genuine. The possibility that a genuine medium may be unscrupulous and -that when these very elusive forces fail to act he may simulate them -is one which greatly complicates the whole subject, but one can only -concentrate upon what one is sure is true and try to draw conclusions -from that. I remember that many sheeted ghosts walked about in the -dim light of a red lamp on these occasions, and that some of them -came close to me, within a foot of my face, and illuminated their -features by the light of a phosphorescent slate held below them. One -splendid Arab, whom the medium called Abdullah, came in this fashion. -He had a face like an idealized W. G. Grace, swarthy, black-bearded -and dignified, rather larger than human. I was looking hard at this -strange being, its nose a few inches from my own, and was wondering -whether it could be some very clever bust of wax, when in an instant -the mouth opened and a terrific yell was emitted. I nearly jumped out -of my chair. I saw clearly the gleaming teeth and the red tongue. It -certainly seemed that he had read my thought and had taken this very -effective way of answering it. - -Some of the excitements of my life during these and the subsequent -years were due to financial entanglements which arose from a certain -speculative element in my own nature, depending rather upon the love of -adventure than upon any hope of gain. If when I earned money I had dug -a hole in the garden and buried it there I should be a much richer man -to-day. I can hardly blame the punter on the racecourse when I remember -the outside chances which I have taken in the past in every possible -form of speculation. But I have the advantage over the mere gambler in -this, that every pound of my money went to develop something or other -and lined the pocket of the working man, who, by the way, when he -grumbles over the profits of the Capitalist never even alludes to his -losses. If a balance sheet were struck it would be interesting to see -what, if any, is the exact margin of profit. - -It is true that sometimes I have indulged in a pure gamble but never -for any sum which would hurt me. I have painful memories of a guano -island off South Africa on which our treasure seekers were not even -allowed to land, though every bird’s nest was rumoured to contain a -diamond. The Spanish galleon in the bay of Tobermory also took treasure -rather than gave it, and the return for my shares was a lump of glass -and a rusted bar. That was more than ever I had from certain spots -in Kalgurli and Coolgardie and other alleged goldbearers, which have -nearly all been gold consumers so far as I am concerned. I fear some of -those mines were like that legendary one where the manager, getting a -cable which ordered him to start crushing, replied, “I have nothing to -crush until you return samples.” - -I have played my involuntary part also in the development of the Rand -and Rhodesia, from those early and unsophisticated days when I misread -the quotation and meaning to invest £60 was faced next morning with a -bill for £900. Occasionally it is true that I backed a winner, but as -a rule I must confess that I was not judicious in my selections. - -But it was at home that I expended myself most freely. I saw the -enormous possibilities of Kent coal, which even now are not fully -understood; but I did not sufficiently weigh the impossibilities, which -are that an enterprise can be successful which is wildly financed and -extravagantly handled. I and many others lost our money sinking the -shafts which may bring fortunes to our successors. I even descended -1,000 feet through the chalk to see with my own eyes that the coal was -_in situ_. It seems to have had the appearance and every other quality -of coal save that it was incombustible, and when a dinner was held by -the shareholders which was to be cooked by local coal, it was necessary -to send out and buy something which would burn. There were, however, -lower strata which were more sensitive to heat. Besides Kent Coal I -lost very heavily in running a manufacturing plant in Birmingham, into -which I was led by those successive stages in which you are continually -trying to save what you have already invested until the situation -becomes so serious that you drop it in terror. We turned from bicycles -to munitions during the war, and actually worked hard the whole four -years, with a hundred artisans making needful war material, without -ever declaring a penny of dividend. This, I should think, must be a -record, and at least no one could call us profiteers. The firm was -eventually killed dead by the successive strikes of the moulders and -the miners. It is amazing how one set of workmen will ruin another set -without apparently any remonstrance from the sufferers. Another bad egg -was a sculpture machine for architectural work, which really had great -possibilities, but we could not get the orders. I was chairman of this -company, and it cost me two years of hard work and anxiety, ending up -by my paying the balance out of my own pocket, so that we might wind -up in an honourable way. It was a dismal experience with many side -adventures attached to it, which would make a sensational novel. - -Such are some of the vicissitudes which cannot be disregarded in a -retrospect of life, for they form a very integral and absorbing part -of it. I have had my ill luck and I have had my good. Amid the latter -I count the fact that I have been for twenty-one years a director of -Raphael Tuck & Co., without the least cloud to darken the long and -pleasant memory. I have also been for many years chairman of Besson’s -famous brass instrument firm. I think a man should know all sides of -life, and he has missed a very essential side if he has not played his -part in commerce. In investments, too, I would not imply that I have -always been unfortunate. My speculative adventures are over, and I can -at least say that unless the British Empire goes down I shall be able -to retain enough for our modest needs. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -SOME NOTABLE PEOPLE - - President Roosevelt--Lord Balfour--Mr. Asquith--Lord Haldane--George - Meredith--Rudyard Kipling--James Barrie--Henry Irving--Bernard - Shaw--R. L. S.--Grant Allen--James Payn--Henry Thompson--Royalty. - - -When I have chanced during my life to come in contact with notable -people, I have often made some short record at the time of what they -said and how they impressed me. It is difficult, however, to use these -notes for publication when you happen to have been a guest, and it can -only be done, I think, by using one’s judgment and never consciously -harming one’s host. If every one were altogether silent upon such -occasions the most pleasing side of great contemporaries would never be -chronicled, for the statesman in slippers is a very much more human and -lovable person than the politician on the platform. - -Among the great men that I have known President Roosevelt occupied a -prominent place. He was not a big, nor, so far as one could see, a -powerful man, but he had tremendous dynamic force and an iron will -which may account for his reputation as an athlete. He had all the -simplicity of real greatness, speaking his mind with great frankness -and in the clearest possible English. He had in him a great deal of -the boy, a mischievous, adventurous, high-spirited boy, with a deep, -strong, thoughtful manhood in the background. We were present, my -wife and I, at the Guildhall when he made his memorable speech about -Egypt, in which he informed a gathering, which contained the Foreign -Secretary, Sir Edward Grey, and many of our Cabinet, that we should -either rule more strictly or clear out altogether. It was, of course, a -most unwarrantable intrusion into our affairs, but it was a calculated -indiscretion, and very welcome, I believe, to those who were dealing -with Egypt. As he made his way through the dense crowd afterwards he -passed me and said with a grin: “I say, I let them have it that time, -didn’t I?” There was the mischievous boy coming out. - -He had a quick blunt wit which showed itself often in his metaphors. He -spoke to me, I remember, of some one who had a nine guinea-pig-power -brain. One of his entourage told me how the President had been awakened -once to address some prairie folk at a wayside station. “They have come -sixty miles to see you,” said his secretary. “They would have come a -hundred to see a cat with two heads,” said the ruffled President. - -I met him once at a small luncheon party at the invitation of Lord Lee, -who had soldiered with him in Cuba. He was extremely talkative--in -fact, I can hardly remember anyone else saying anything. Thinking -it over afterwards I concluded that two ideas were running through -his mind, and every now and then coming to the surface. They were -formidable ideas, and may have been some temporary wave of feeling, but -they were certainly in his thoughts. The one was that there would be -another civil war in the States. The second, that if you had the farmer -class on your side they presented the best military material. From this -I gathered that it was not a geographical but an economic struggle that -was in his mind. _Absit omen_, but great men are often pessimists, and -the Duke of Wellington was deeply convinced that Britain could not long -survive his death. - -When Roosevelt was shot I sent him a cable to express that sympathy -which every Englishman felt. I have his answer before me, written only -a day or so after the event: - - MERCY HOSPITAL, - CHICAGO, - _October 19, 1912_. - - DEAR MR. DOYLE,-- - - Many thanks for your kind message of sympathy. As you know, a bullet - wound is rather a serious thing, but all conditions seem to be - favourable, and I hope in a few days we will all be relieved from - anxiety. - - Sincerely yours, - THEODORE ROOSEVELT. - - -It is typewritten, but signed by his own hand. I do not think that a -more brave and detached letter was ever written by a sufferer. - -Roosevelt was a very loud hearty man, with a peculiar wild-beast toothy -grin, and an explosive habit of slapping his hand down for emphasis. -I jotted down a few of his _obiter dicta_ after our conversation. He -had no good word for Henry James. “He is not a whole man. All that -subtlety is really decadence.” He was very virile, not to say heroic in -his views. “A man should guard particularly against being led from his -duty, especially a dangerous duty, by his women. I guess a woman would -have had a bad time if she had tried to lead Leonidas from the pass.” -Of the German Emperor he said that he was jealous of the King’s dog at -the King’s funeral because he attracted the more notice. Altogether he -was one of the raciest talkers I have ever met. - -Among the occasional great ones of earth whom I have met there is -hardly anyone who stands out more clearly than Arthur Balfour, with -his willowy figure, his gentle intellectual face, and, as I read it, -his soul of steel. I should think that of all men of our day he was -the last who would be turned from any path which he had deliberately -taken, but, on the other hand, he was capable of standing a most -unconscionable time at the place where paths divide, for his mind was -so subtle and active that he would always see the two sides of every -question and waver between them. He could never have been a pioneer. - -The occasion of our first meeting was a most ridiculous one. Old -Lord Burnham, the first of his line, had invited me down to his -country house at Beaconsfield--a wonderful house which had been built -originally by Waller, the Royalist poet. Burke had lived close by, -and the dagger which, in a melodramatic moment, he threw upon the -floor of the house, in order to show the dangers of French Republican -propaganda, is still on exhibition. I can remember the party well, -though nearly all of them are now on the farther side. I see Lady -Dorothy Nevill with her mittened hands and her prim pussy-cat manner, -retailing gossip about Disraeli’s flirtations. Sir Henry James walks -under the trees with bended head, talking to the rising barrister who -is destined as Lord Reading to be Viceroy of India. Lady Cleveland, -mother of Lord Rosebery, is listening with her old face wreathed in -smiles to Lady Dorothy’s scandal. Young Harry Irving looks unutterably -bored as Lord Burnham explains golf to him, bending his head over to -get a glimpse of the ball round the curve of his goodly waistcoat. Mr. -Asquith stands smiling beside them. As one looks back they seem all to -have been shadows in a world of shadow. - -Lord Burnham’s hobby was Turkish baths, and he had an excellent one -in the front of the house, the drying room being the first door on -the right as one entered, and being a simple sitting-room as far as -appearance went. With his usual kind hospitality Lord Burnham had urged -me to try his bath, and having done so I was placed, arrayed in a long -towel, and with another towel screwed round my head, in the drying -room. Presently the door opened, and entered Arthur Balfour, Prime -Minister of England. He knew nothing of the house or its ways, and I -can remember the amazement with which he gazed at me. Lord Burnham -following at his heels introduced me, and I raised the towel on my -head. There were no explanations, and I felt that he went away with the -impression that this was my usual costume. - -I did not see him after that week-end--he kept his room, I remember, -until midday on the Sunday--until some years later when, after heavy -domestic loss, I was endeavouring to collect myself again in a little -inn near Dunbar. He heard of my presence, and in his kindness sent a -car over from Whittinghame, only a few miles away, with a request that -I should come over for a couple of days. There was present his brother, -Gerald Balfour, a man with a beautifully refined face and manner, -not unlike that of Andrew Lang. His wife is the famous Lady Betty -Balfour, the daughter of Lord Lytton. When one thinks of that group of -inter-allied families--the Balfours, Cecils, Sedgwicks, and Lyttons--it -seems a sort of nerve ganglion of British life. There was also Lady -Frances Balfour, who was a daughter of the Duke of Argyle, and not -unlike him, as I can remember him. Her husband was Arthur Balfour’s -brother, an architect and antiquary, while another brother was Colonel -of the London Scottish. Finally, there was Miss Alice Balfour, a very -sweet and gentle intellectual person, who was my actual hostess. - -I found Arthur Balfour in great spirits because he had just won a golf -medal at North Berwick. He seemed as pleased as any schoolboy, and -his sister told me that no political success ever gave him the keen -pleasure which he had from his golf victory. He was an average player, -orthodox in style, and about 10 or 12 in handicap. He proved to be a -charming host, for he was a good listener, seeming to be really eager -to hear your opinion, laughed heartily at small provocation, and talked -always very frankly and modestly of himself. After my long solitude I -was more loquacious, I remember, than is my way, but he bore it with -good humour. - -Every night--or at least on the Sunday night--the whole staff of the -large rambling establishment, maids and grooms, some twenty in all, -came in for prayers, which were read by the head of the house. It was -fine to hear groom and statesman praying humbly together that they be -forgiven the sins of the day, and merging all earthly distinctions in -the presence of that which is above us all. - -He was very interesting when he spoke of the outrage which the Russian -fleet had committed when, on their way to Japan, they opened fire -at the British trawlers on the Dogger Bank. It was curious to hear -his gentle voice and to note his listless impersonal manner while he -spoke in this fashion: “I was very angry, really very angry about that -affair. If our fleet had been at home I should have been inclined -to have stopped them in the Straits. Of course, one would not do -that unless one had overpowering force, so as to avoid bloodshed and -save the Russian face. Their Ambassador called that morning and gave -complete assurances, or really I should have had to do something. He -got himself into trouble with his own Government, who felt that he had -given away their case.” - -I asked him how Cabinet Councils were worked. He said that they voted -upon points and went by majorities, unless it was a vital thing, when -of course the dissenters must resign. - -I observed in his character a very great horror of cowardice. Nothing -seemed to arouse such scorn in him. He grew quite red, I remember, as -he spoke of Lord George Sackville, and recalled that though he had -been broken and should have been shot at the Battle of Minden in 1759, -he was none the less Minister of War during the American campaign. He -was also, as I reminded him, a most debauched man; and the murder of -his mistress, Miss Reay, the actress, by her true lover, the clergyman -Hackman, was one of the _causes célèbres_ of that century. - -I shall always carry away the memory of that visit--a bright gleam in -a dark passage of life. I see very clearly the old house, the huge -broken tree outside, inside which a State conspiracy was once hatched, -the fine library with its wealth of French memoirs, and above all the -remarkable man who stood for so much in the life of the country. I was -not at that time so convinced of the primary importance of psychic -things as I became later, and I regret it, as this would have been my -one opportunity to explore a knowledge which at that time was certainly -greater than my own. Years later, when the fight was heavy upon me, and -when I was almost alone in the polemical arena, I wrote to Mr. Balfour, -and charged him with sharing all my convictions and yet leaving me to -defend them single-handed. His answer was: “Surely my opinions upon -this subject are already sufficiently well known,” which is surely an -admission that I was right in my description of them, and yet was not -much of a prop to me in my time of need. - -I cast my mind back to other statesmen whom I have known, and Mr. -Asquith’s kindly personality comes into my memory. I remember playing -a round of golf with him once--and a very bad player he was--but -his conversation as we went round was plus four. He was a naturally -sweet-natured man, but under that gentleness there lay judgment and -firmness, as was shown at the great crisis of history. He never said -too much, but what he did say he lived up to. In conducting us safely -through those first two years of war he did that for which he has never -had sufficient credit, and the more light we have had since, the more -clear it has been that Lord Kitchener and he were really doing all -that men could do, in munition work and all other ways. Because he -had the solid Yorkshire stolidity, more nervous and excitable people -thought that he did not take the war sufficiently seriously, while the -constant lies about the pro-German tendencies of his wife increased -the evil impression. We owe him a reparation which is second only to -that which is due to Lord Haldane. - -And that is indeed a heavy one. If one man could be named who was -absolutely indispensable to victory it was Haldane. He it was who built -up the whole splendid weapon which flashed so swiftly from its sheath, -and which Germany was so amazed to find directed at its breast as it -rushed forward upon its furious course. He could not work miracles; he -could not introduce conscription when a candidate with such a programme -would have been chased from the hustings; he could not prepare the -public mind in some dramatic way which would have precipitated the very -crash which there was still some chance of avoiding. But all we had -he gave us--the eight divisions which saved France, the Territorials -who carried on the good work until the new armies were ready and the -Officers’ Training Corps, which strengthened us where we should have -been fatally weak. There has never been so foolish and ungrateful a -clamour as that which has been raised against Haldane. I remember that -when he took the chair for me in the first war lecture which I gave in -London there were cries of “Traitor!” from people, chiefly women, among -the audience. I had never seen Haldane before, and have never seen him -since, so I have no personal bias in the matter, but I am proud that it -was in my first volume of the “History of the War,” published in 1915, -that I first put forward the unpopular view which will now be more -fully accepted. - -With George Meredith I had several interesting connections. I have the -greatest possible admiration for him at his best, while his worst is -such a handicap that I think it will drag four-fifths of his work to -oblivion. If his own generation finds him hard to understand, what will -our descendants make of him? He will be a cult among a few--a precious -few in every sense. And yet I fully recognize that his was the most -active original brain and the most clever pen of any man, novelist or -otherwise, of my time. Knowing this well, it is strange that I can -see so limited a future for him. His subtle and intricate mind seemed -unable to realize the position of the plain outsiders who represent the -world. He could not see how his stained-glass might be less effective -than the plain transparent substance as a medium for vision. The first -requisite is to be intelligible. The second is to be interesting. -The third is to be clever. Meredith enormously filled the third, but -he was unequal upon the other two. Hence he will never, in spite of -the glories of “Richard Feverel” be on an equality with Dickens or -Thackeray, who filled all three. He had simply no idea how his words -would strike a less complex mind. I remember that once in the presence -of Barrie, Quiller-Couch and myself, he read out a poem which he had -inscribed “To the British Working-Man” in the “Westminster Gazette.” I -don’t know what the British working-man made of it, but I am sure that -we three were greatly puzzled as to what it was about. - -I had written some articles on his work, which had been one of my -youthful cults, and that led to his inviting me to see him at his villa -at Box Hill--the first of several such visits. There had been a good -deal in the papers about his health, so that I was surprised when, as -I opened the garden gate, a slight but robust gentleman in a grey suit -and a red tie swung out of the hall door and came singing loudly down -the path. I suppose he was getting on to seventy at the time but he -looked younger, and his artistic face was good to the eye. Greeting me -he pointed to a long steep hill behind the house and said: “I have just -been up to the top for a walk.” I looked at the sharp slope and said: -“You must be in good trim to do it.” He looked angry and said: “That -would be a proper compliment to pay to an octogenarian.” I was a little -nettled by his touchiness, so I answered: “I understood that I was -talking to an invalid.” It really seemed as if my visit would terminate -at the garden gate, but presently he relented, and we soon became quite -friendly. - -He had in his youth been a judge of wine, and had still a reverence for -a good vintage, but unfortunately some nervous complaint from which -he suffered had caused the doctors to prohibit it absolutely. When -lunch came round he asked me with a very earnest air whether I could -undertake to drink a whole bottle of Burgundy. I answered that I saw -no insuperable difficulty. A dusty old bottle was tenderly carried -up, which I disposed of, Meredith taking a friendly interest in its -dispatch. “The fact is,” said he, “I love my wine, and my little cellar -was laid down with care and judgment, so that when some guest comes and -drinks a glass and wastes the rest of the bottle it goes to my heart. -It really did me good to see you enjoy that one.” I need not say that I -intimated that I was always prepared to oblige. - -His conversation was extraordinarily vivid and dramatic, uttered in -a most vehement tone. It may have been artificial, and it may have -been acting, but it was very arresting and entertaining. The talk got -upon Napoleon’s Marshals, and you would have thought that he knew them -intimately, and he did Murat’s indignation at being told to charge -_au bout_, as if he ever charged any other way, in a fashion which -would have brought down the house. Every now and then he brought out -a Meredithian sentence which sounded comic when applied to domestic -matters. When the jelly swayed about as the maid put it on the table -he said: “The jelly, Mary, is as treacherous as the Trojan Horse.” He -laughed when I told him how my groom, enlisted as a waiter for some -special dinner, said, “Huddup, there,” to the jelly under similar -circumstances. - -After lunch we walked up a steep path to the little chalet or -summerhouse where he used to write. He wished to read me a novel which -he had begun twenty years before, but which he had not had the heart -to go on with. I liked it greatly--and we roared with laughter at his -description of an old sea-dog who turned up the collar of his coat when -he went into action as if the bullets were rain. He said that my hearty -enjoyment encouraged him to go on with it, and it has since appeared as -the “Amazing Marriage,” but whether I really had anything to do with it -I do not know. I should be proud to think so. - -The nervous complaint from which he suffered caused him to fall down -occasionally. As we walked up the narrow path to the chalet I heard him -fall behind me, but judged from the sound that it was a mere slither -and could not have hurt him. Therefore I walked on as if I had heard -nothing. He was a fiercely proud old man, and my instincts told me that -his humiliation in being helped up would be far greater than any relief -I could give him. It was certainly a nice point to decide. - -George Meredith’s religious convictions were very difficult to decide. -He certainly had no glimmering so far as I could see of any psychic -element in life, and I should imagine that on the whole he shared the -opinions of his friend, John Morley, which were completely negative. -And yet I remember his assuring me that prayer was a very necessary -thing, and that one should never abandon prayer. “Who rises from prayer -a better man, his prayer is granted,” says the Aphorist in “Richard -Feverel.” How far these positions can be harmonized I do not know. I -suppose that one may say that God is unknown, and yet rear a mental -temple to the unknown God. - -Rudyard Kipling I know far less than I should, considering how deeply I -admire his writings, and that we live in the same country; but we are -both absorbed in work, and both much away from home, which may explain -it. I can well remember how eagerly I bought his first book, “Plain -Tales,” in the old Southsea days, when buying a book was a rare strain -upon my exchequer. I read it with delight, and realized not only that -a new force had arisen in literature, but that a new method of story -writing had appeared which was very different from my own adherence -to the careful plot artfully developed. This was go-as-you-please -take-it-or-leave-it work, which glowed suddenly up into an incandescent -phrase or paragraph, which was the more effective for its sudden -advent. In form his stories were crude, and yet in effect--which, after -all, is everything--they were superb. It showed me that methods could -not be stereotyped, and that there was a more excellent way, even if it -were beyond my reach. I loved the “Barrack Room Ballads” also, and such -poems as “The Bolivar,” “East and West,” and above all the badly named -“L’Envoi” became part of my very self. I always read the last one aloud -to my little circle before we start on any fresh expedition, because it -contains the very essence of travel, romance, and high adventure. - -I saw Kipling most nearly in his very early days when he lived at -Brattleboro, a little village in Vermont, in a chivalrous desire to -keep his newly married wife in touch with her own circle. In 1894, as I -have recorded, there was a good deal of tail-twisting going on in the -States, and Kipling pulled a few feathers out of the Eagle’s tail in -retaliation, which caused many screams of protest, for the American -was far more sensitive to such things than the case-hardened Briton. -I say “was,” for I think as a nation with an increased assurance of -their own worth and strength they are now more careless of criticism. -The result at the time was to add oil to flames, and I, as a passionate -believer in Anglo-American union, wrote to Kipling to remonstrate. He -received my protest very good-humouredly, and it led to my visit to his -country home. As a matter of fact, the concern shown in America, when -the poet lay at death’s door a few years later, showed that the rancour -was not very deep. Perhaps he was better known at that time in America -than in England, for I remember sitting beside a bushman in London, who -bowed his red face to my ear and said: “Beg your pardon, sir, but ’oo -is this ’ere Kilpin?” - -I had two great days in Vermont, and have a grateful remembrance of -Mrs. Kipling’s hospitality. The poet read me “McAndrew’s Hymn,” which -he had just done, and surprised me by his dramatic power which enabled -him to sustain the Glasgow accent throughout, so that the angular -Scottish greaser simply walked the room. I had brought up my golf clubs -and gave him lessons in a field while the New England rustics watched -us from afar, wondering what on earth we were at, for golf was unknown -in America at that time. We parted good friends, and the visit was an -oasis in my rather dreary pilgrimage as a lecturer. - -My glimpses of Kipling since then have been few and scattered, but -I had the pleasure several times of meeting his old father, a most -delightful and lovable person, who told a story quite as well as his -famous son. As the mother was also a very remarkable woman, it is no -wonder that he carried such a cargo. - -James Barrie is one of my oldest literary friends, and I knew him -within a year or two of the time when we both came to London. He -had just written his “Window in Thrums,” and I, like all the world, -acclaimed it. When I was lecturing in Scotland in 1893 he invited -me to Kirriemuir, when I stayed some days with his family--splendid -types of the folk who have made Scotland great. His father was a fine -fellow, but his mother was wonderful with a head and a heart--rare -combinations--which made me class her with my own mother. Kirriemuir -could by no means understand Barrie’s success, and looked upon their -great son as an inexplicable phenomenon. They were acutely aware, -however, that tourists were arriving from all parts to see the place -on account of Barrie’s books. “I suppose you have read them,” I said -to the wife of the local hotel man. “Aye, I’ve read them, and steep, -steep, weary work it was,” said she. She had some theory that it was a -four-horse coach which her good man was running, and not the books at -all which accounted for the boom. - -Great as are Barrie’s plays--and some of them I think are very great--I -wish he had never written a line for the theatre. The glamour of it -and the--to him--easy success have diverted from literature the man -with the purest style of his age. Plays are always ephemeral, however -good, and are limited to a few, but Barrie’s unborn books might have -been an eternal and a universal asset of British literature. He has -the chaste clarity which is the great style, which has been debased -by a generation of wretched critics who have always confused what is -clear with what is shallow, and what is turbid with what is profound. -If a man’s thought is precise, his rendering of it is precise, and -muddy thoughts make obscure paragraphs. If I had to make my choice -among modern stylists, I should pick Barrie for the lighter forms of -expression and our British Winston Churchill for the more classical. - -Barrie’s great play--one of the finest in the language--is of course -“The Admirable Crichton.” I shall always hope that I had a hand in the -fashioning of it. I say this not in complaint but in satisfaction, for -we all drop seeds into each other, and seldom know whence they come. We -were walking together on the Heath at Kirriemuir when I said: “I had a -quaint thought in the night, Barrie. It was that a king was visiting -India and was wrecked on the way on some island far from the track of -ships. Only he and one rather handy sailor were saved. They settled -down to spend their lives together. Of course the result would be that -the sailor would become the king and the king the subject.” We chuckled -over the idea, and when Crichton appeared, I seemed to see the fine -plant which had grown from the tiny seed. - -Barrie and I had one unfortunate venture together, in which I may say -that the misfortune was chiefly mine, since I had really nothing to -do with the matter, and yet shared all the trouble. However, I should -have shared the honour and profit in case of success, so that I have no -right to grumble. The facts were that Barrie had promised Mr. D’Oyley -Carte that he would provide the libretto of a light opera for the -Savoy. This was in the Gilbert days, when such a libretto was judged -by a very high standard. It was an extraordinary commission for him to -accept, and I have never yet been able to understand why he did so, -unless, like Alexander, he wanted fresh worlds to conquer. On this -occasion, however, he met with a disastrous repulse, and the opera, -“Jane Annie,” to which I alluded in an early chapter, was one of the -few failures in his brilliant career. - -I was brought into the matter because Barrie’s health failed on account -of some family bereavement. I had an urgent telegram from him at -Aldburgh, and going there I found him very worried because he had bound -himself by this contract, and he felt in his present state unable to -go forward with it. There were to be two acts, and he had written the -first one, and had the rough scenario of the second, with the complete -sequence of events--if one may call it a sequence. Would I come in with -him and help him to complete it as part author? Of course I was very -happy to serve him in any way. My heart sank, however, when, after -giving the promise, I examined the work. The only literary gift which -Barrie has not got is the sense of poetic rhythm, and the instinct for -what is permissible in verse. Ideas and wit were in abundance. But -the plot itself was not strong though the dialogue and the situations -also were occasionally excellent. I did my best and wrote the lyrics -for the second act, and much of the dialogue, but it had to take -the predestined shape. The result was not good. However, the actual -comradeship of production was very amusing and interesting, and our -failure was mainly painful to us because it let down the producer and -the cast. We were well abused by the critics, but Barrie took it all in -the bravest spirit. - -I find, in looking over my papers, a belated statement of account from -Barrie which is good reading. - - IN ACCOUNT WITH J. M. BARRIE. - - _Why._ _Cause of delay._ _Remarks._ - - A £1 Lent at Station. Object moving too fast. Doyle _says_ he - lent it. - - B £12 Jane Annie Moving or swaying Better late than - on Tour. of Kodak. never. - - C £30 6_s._ 4_d._ Failure to pull cord. Doyle gets 2/5 of - Heaven knows. a penny beyond - his share. - -Our associations were never so closely renewed, but through all my -changing life I have had a respect and affection for Barrie which were, -I hope, mutual. How I collaborated with him at cricket as well as at -work is told in my chapter on Sport. - -Henry Irving is one of the other great men whom I have met at close -quarters, for his acting of Gregory Brewster brought us in contact. -When he was producing “Coriolanus” he came down to Hindhead and used -to drop in of an evening. He was fond of a glass of port--indeed, he -was one of the four great men who were stated (probably untruly) by the -Hon. G. Russell to drink a bottle each night--being the only trait which -these great men had in common. The others, I remember, were Tennyson, -Gladstone and Moses Montefiori, and the last I believe was really true. -Like all bad habits, it overtook the sinner at last, and he was cut off -at the age of 116. - -Irving had a curious dry wit which was occasionally sardonic and -ill-natured. I can well believe that his rehearsals were often the -occasion for heart-burnings among the men and tears among the ladies. -The unexpectedness of his remarks took one aback. I remember when my -friend Hamilton sat up with me into the “wee sma’ hours” with the -famous man, he became rather didactic on the subject of the Deity or -the Universe or some other tremendous topic, which he treated very -solemnly, and at great length. Irving sat with his intense eyes riveted -upon the speaker’s face, which encouraged Hamilton to go on and on. -When at last he had finished, Irving remarked: “_What_ a low comedian -you would have made!” He wound up his visit by giving me his copy of -“Coriolanus” with all his notes and stage directions--a very precious -relic. - -Many visions of old times rise before my eyes as I write, but my book -would lose all proportion should I dwell upon them. I see Henley, the -formidable cripple, a red-bearded, loud-voiced buccaneer of a man who -could only crawl, for his back appeared to be broken. He was a great -poet and critic who seemed to belong to the roaring days of Marlowe -of the mighty line and the pothouse fray. I see Haggard too, first -as the young spruce diplomatist, later as the worn and bearded man -with strange vague tendencies to mysticism. Shaw, too, I see with the -pleasant silky voice and the biting phrase. It was strange that all -the mild vegetables which formed his diet made him more pugnacious -and, I must add, more uncharitable than the carnivorous man, so that -I have known no literary man who was more ruthless to other people’s -feelings. And yet to meet him was always to like him. He could not -resist a bitter jest or the perverted pleasure of taking up an -unpopular attitude. As an example I remember Henry Irving telling me -that when Shaw was invited to his father’s funeral he wrote in reply: -“If I were at Westminster Henry Irving would turn in his grave, just as -Shakespeare would turn in his grave were Henry Irving at Stratford.” I -may not have it verbally exact, but that was near enough. It was the -kind of outrageous thing that he would say. And yet one can forgive him -all when one reads the glorious dialogue of some of his plays. He seems -subhuman in emotion and superhuman in intellect. - -Shaw was always a thorn in Irving’s side, and was usually the one -jarring note among the chorus of praise which greeted each fresh -production. At a first night at the Lyceum--those wonderful first -nights which have never been equalled--the lanky Irishman with his -greenish face, his red beard, and his sardonic expression must have -been like the death’s-head at the banquet to Irving. Irving ascribed -this animosity to Shaw’s pique because his plays were not accepted, but -in this I am sure that he did an injustice. It was simply that contrary -twist in the man which makes him delight in opposing whatever anyone -else approved. There is nothing constructive in him, and he is bound to -be in perpetual opposition. No one for example was stronger for peace -and for non-militarism than he, and I remember that when I took the -chair at a meeting at Hindhead to back up the Tsar’s peace proposals at -The Hague, I thought to myself as I spied Shaw in a corner of the room: -“Well, this time at any rate he must be in sympathy.” But far from -being so he sprang to his feet and put forward a number of ingenious -reasons why these proposals for peace would be disastrous. Do what you -could he was always against you. - -Perhaps it is no bad thing to have the other point of view continually -stated, and the British stand that sort of thing better than other -nations. Had Shaw said in America what he said in England about the war -whilst it was in progress he would have been in personal danger. There -were times, however, when his queer contrary impulses became perfectly -brutal in their working. One was at the time of the _Titanic_ disaster, -when he deliberately wrote a letter at a time when the wounds were raw, -overwhelming every one concerned with bitter criticism. I was moved -to write a remonstrance, and we had a sharp debate in public, which -did not in any way modify our kindly personal relations. I can recall -a smaller but even more unjustifiable example of his sour nature when -he was staying at Hindhead. A garden-party had been got up for some -charity, and it included the woodland scenes of “As You Like It,” which -were done by amateurs, and very well done too. Shaw with no provocation -wrote a whole column of abuse in the local paper, spattering all -the actors and their performance with ridicule, and covering them -with confusion, though indeed they had nothing to be ashamed of. One -mentions these things as characteristic of one side of the man, and -as a proof, I fear, that the adoption by the world of a vegetarian -diet will not bring unkind thoughts or actions to an end. But with it -all Shaw is a genial creature to meet, and I am prepared to believe -that there is a human kindly side to his nature though it has not been -presented to the public. It took a good man to write “Saint Joan.” - -Wells, too, I have known long, and indeed I must have often entered the -draper’s shop in which he was employed at Southsea, for the proprietor -was a patient of mine. Wells is one of the great fruits which popular -education has given us, since he came, as he is proud to state, from -the heart of the people. His democratic frankness and complete absence -of class feeling are occasionally embarrassing. I remember his asking -me once if I had played cricket at Liphook. I said that I had. He -said: “Did you notice an old fellow who acts as professional and -ground-keeper?” I said that I had. “That was my father,” said Wells. I -was too much surprised to answer, and could only congratulate myself -that I had made no unpleasant comments before I knew the identity of -the old man. - -I have always had my doubts as to those elaborate forecasts of the -future in which Wells indulges. He has, it is true, made a couple -of good shots which have already materialized in the tanks and in -the machine which would deliver news in our own houses. But he has -never shown any perception of the true meaning of the psychic, and -for want of it his history of the world, elaborate and remarkable as -it was, seemed to me to be a body without a soul. However, this also -may be given him, and it will make his equipment complete. I remember -discussing the matter with him, when George Gissing, Hornung, he and I -foregathered in Rome early in this century, but apparently my words had -no effect. - -Willie Hornung, my brother-in-law, is another of my vivid memories. He -was a Dr. Johnson without the learning but with a finer wit. No one -could say a neater thing, and his writings, good as they are, never -adequately represented the powers of the man, nor the quickness of his -brain. These things depend upon the time and the fashion, and go flat -in the telling, but I remember how, when I showed him the record of -some one who claimed to have done 100 yards under ten seconds, he said: -“It is a sprinter’s error.” Golf he could not abide, for he said it was -“unsportsmanlike to hit a sitting ball.” His criticism upon my Sherlock -Holmes was: “Though he might be more humble, there is no police like -Holmes.” I think I may claim that his famous character Raffles was a -kind of inversion of Sherlock Holmes, Bunny playing Watson. He admits -as much in his kindly dedication. I think there are few finer examples -of short-story writing in our language than these, though I confess I -think they are rather dangerous in their suggestion. I told him so -before he put pen to paper, and the result has, I fear, borne me out. -You must not make the criminal a hero. - -Jerome, too, is an old friend. He is an adventurous soul, and at one -time started a four-in-hand. I remember sitting on the top of it, -and when one of the leaders turned right round and took a good look -at the driver I thought it was time to get down. Maxwell also is an -old friend. He is, of course, the son of Miss Braddon, who married a -publisher of that name. I respect him for doing a man’s work in the war -when, though he was fifty years of age, and had led a sedentary life, -he volunteered for a fighting battalion, a credit which he shares with -A. E. W. Mason. Maxwell’s work has always greatly appealed to me, and I -have long looked upon him as the greatest novelist that we possess. - -I never met Robert Louis Stevenson in the flesh, though I owe so much -to him in the literary spirit. Never can I forget the delight with -which I read those early stories of his in the “Cornhill,” before I -knew the name of the author. I still think that “The Pavilion on the -Links” is one of the great short stories of the world, though there -were alterations in the final form which were all for the worse, and -showed prudery upon the part of the publishers. Stevenson’s last year -at Edinburgh University must have just about coincided with my first -one, and Barrie must also have been in that grey old nest of learning -about the year 1876. Strange to think that I probably brushed elbows -with both of them in the crowded portal. - -From his far-away home in Samoa he seemed to keep a quick eye upon -literary matters in England, and I had most encouraging letters from -him in 1893 and 1894. “O frolic fellow-spookist” was his curious term -of personal salutation in one of these, which showed that he shared -my interest in psychic research but did not take it very seriously. -I cannot guess how at that time he had detected it, though I was -aware that he had himself in early days acted as secretary to a -psychic research or rather to a Spiritualist society in Edinburgh, -which studied the remarkable mediumship of Duguid. His letters to me -consisted of kind appreciation of my work. “I have a great talent for -compliment,” he said, “accompanied by a hateful, even a diabolic, -frankness.” He had been retailing some of my Sherlock Holmes yarns -to his native servants--I should not have thought that he needed to -draw upon anyone else--and he complained to me in a comical letter of -the difficulty of telling a story when you had to halt every moment -to explain what a railway was, what an engineer was, and so forth. -He got the story across in spite of all difficulties, and, said he, -“If you could have seen the bright feverish eyes of Simite you would -have tasted glory.” But he explained that the natives took everything -literally, and that there was no such thing as an imaginary story for -them. “I, who write this, have had the indiscretion to perpetuate a -trifling piece of fiction, ‘The Bottle Imp.’ Parties who come up to -visit my mansion, after having admired the ceiling by Vanderputty and -the tapestry by Gobbling, manifest towards the end a certain uneasiness -which proves them to be fellows of an infinite delicacy. They may be -seen to shrug a brown shoulder, to roll up a speaking eye, and at last -the secret bursts from them: ‘Where is the bottle?’” In another letter -he said that as I had written of my first book in the “Idler” he also -would do so. “I could not hold back where the white plume of Conan -Doyle waved in front of me.” So, at least, I may boast that it is to me -that the world owes the little personal sketch about “Treasure Island” -which appeared in that year. I cannot forget the shock that it was to -me when driving down the Strand in a hansom cab in 1896 I saw upon a -yellow evening poster “Death of Stevenson.” Something seemed to have -passed out of my world. - -I was asked by his executors to finish the novel “St. Ives,” which he -had left three-quarters completed, but I did not feel equal to the -task. It was done, however, and, I understand, very well done, by -Quiller-Couch. It is a desperately difficult thing to carry on another -man’s story, and must be a more or less mechanical effort. I had one -experience of it when my neighbour at Hindhead, Grant Allen, was on -his death-bed. He was much worried because there were two numbers of -his serial, “Hilda Wade,” which was running in “The Strand” magazine, -still uncompleted. It was a pleasure for me to do them for him, and -so relieve his mind, but it was difficult collar work, and I expect -they were pretty bad. Some time afterwards a stranger, who evidently -confused Allen and me, wrote to say that his wife had given him a baby -girl, and that in honour of me he was calling her Hilda Wade. He was -really nearer the truth than appeared at first sight. - -I well remember that death-bed of Grant Allen’s. He was an agnostic -of a type which came very near atheism, though in his private life -an amiable and benevolent man. Believing what he did, the approach -of death must have offered rather a bleak prospect, and as he had -paroxysms of extreme pain the poor fellow seemed very miserable. I -had often argued the case with him, I from a Theistic and he from a -negative point of view, but I did not intrude my opinions or disturb -his mind at that solemn moment. Death-bed changes, though some clergy -may rejoice in them, are really vain things. His brain, however, -was as clear as ever, and his mind was occupied with all manner of -strange knowledge, which he imparted in the intervals of his pain, in -the curious high nasal voice which was characteristic. I can see him -now, his knees drawn up to ease internal pain, and his long thin nose -and reddish-grey goatee protruding over the sheet, while he croaked -out: “Byzantine art, my dear Doyle, was of three periods, the middle -one roughly coinciding with the actual fall of the Roman Empire. The -characteristics of the first period----” and so on, until he would -give a cry, clasp his hands across his stomach, and wait till the pain -passed before resuming his lecture. His dear little wife nursed him -devotedly, and mitigated the gloom of those moments which can be made -the very happiest in life if one understands what lies before one. One -thinks, as a contrast, of Dr. Hodgson’s impatient cry, “I can hardly -wait for death!” - -Grant Allen’s strong opinions in print, and a certain pleasure he -took in defending outside positions, gave quite a false view of his -character, which was gentle and benignant. I remember his coming to -a fancy dress ball which we gave in the character of a Cardinal, and -in that guise all the quiet dignity of the man seemed to come out and -you realized how much our commonplace modern dress disguises the real -man. He used to tell with great amusement how a couple, who afterwards -became close friends, came first to call, and how as they waited on the -doorstep the wife said to the husband: “Remember, John, if he openly -blasphemes, I leave the room.” He had, I remember, very human relations -with the maids who took a keen interest in their employer’s scientific -experiments. On one occasion these were connected with spiders, and the -maid rushed into the drawing-room and cried: “Oh, sir, Araminta has got -a wasp.” Araminta was the name given to the big spider which he was -observing at the time. - -Grant Allen had no actual call to write fiction, but his brain was -agile enough to make some sort of job of anything to which it turned. -On the other hand, as a popular scientist he stood alone, or shared -the honour with Samuel Laing. His only real success in fiction was the -excellent short story “John Creedy,” where he combined science with -fiction, with remarkable results. - -At the time when I and so many others turned to letters there was -certainly a wonderful vacancy for the new-comer. The giants of old -had all departed. Thackeray, Dickens, Charles Reade and Trollope were -memories. There was no great figure remaining save Hardy. The rising -novelist was Mrs. Humphry Ward, who was just beginning her career -with “Robert Elsmere,” the first of that series of novels which will -illuminate the later Victorian era more clearly than any historian ever -can do. I think it was Hodgkin who said, when he read “Count Robert of -Paris”: “Here have I been studying Byzantium all my life, and I never -understood it until this blessed Scotch lawyer came along.” That is the -special prerogative of imagination. Trollope and Mrs. Ward have the -whole Victorian civilization dissected and preserved. - -Then there were Meredith, unintelligible to most, and Walter Besant. -There was Wilkie Collins, too, with his fine stories of mystery, and -finally there was James Payn. - -Payn was much greater than his books. The latter were usually rather -mechanical, but to get at the real man one has to read such articles -as his “Literary Reminiscences,” and especially his “Backwater of -Life.” He had all that humorous view which Nature seems to give as a -compensation to those whose strength is weak. Had Payn written only -essays he would have rivalled Charles Lamb. I knew him best in his -latter days, when he was crippled with illness, and his poor fingers -so twisted with rheumatic arthritis that they seemed hardly human. He -was intensely pessimistic as to his own fate. “Don’t make any mistake, -Doyle, death is a horrible thing--horrible! I suffer the agonies of the -damned!” But five minutes later he would have his audience roaring with -laughter, and his own high treble laugh would be the loudest of all. - -His own ailments were frequently a source of mirth. I remember how he -described the breaking of a blood-vessel in Bournemouth and how they -carried him home on a litter. He was dimly conscious of the fir-woods -through which he passed. “I thought it was my funeral, and that they -had done me well in the matter of plumes.” When he told a story he was -so carried away by his sense of humour that he could hardly get the end -out, and he finished up in a kind of scream. An American had called -upon him at some late hour and had discoursed upon Assyrian tablets. “I -thought they were something to eat,” he screamed. He was an excellent -whist player, and the Baldwin Club used to send three members to his -house on certain days so that the old fellow should not go without his -game. This game was very scientific. He would tell with delight how he -asked some novice: “Do you play the penultimate?” To which the novice -answered: “No--but my brother plays the American organ.” - -Many of my generation of authors had reason to love him, for he was -a human and kindly critic. His writing however, was really dreadful. -It was of him that the story was told that an author handed one of -his letters to a chemist for a test. The chemist retired for a time -and then returned with a bottle and demanded half a crown. Better -luck attended the man who received an illegible letter from a railway -director. He used it as a free pass upon the line. Payn used to joke -about his own writing, but it was a very real trouble when one could -not make out whether he had accepted or rejected one’s story. There -was one letter in which I could only read the words “infringement of -copyright.” He was very funny when he described the work of the robust -younger school. “I have received a story from ----” he said, “5,000 -words, mostly damns.” - -I knew Sir Henry Thompson, the famous surgeon, very well, and was -frequently honoured by an invitation to his famous octave dinners, -at which eight carefully chosen male guests were always the company. -They always seemed to me to be the most wonderful exhibitions of -unselfishness, for Thompson was not allowed any alcohol, or anything -save the most simple viands. Possibly, however, like Meredith and the -bottle of burgundy, he enjoyed some reflex pleasure from the enjoyment -of others. He had been a wonderful _viveur_ and judge of what was what, -and I fear that I disappointed him, for I was much more interested -in the conversation than the food, and it used to annoy me when some -argument was interrupted in order to tell us that it was not ordinary -ham but a Westphalian wild boar that we were eating and that it had -been boiled in wine for precisely the right time prescribed by the best -authorities. But it was part of his wonderful unselfish hospitality to -make his guests realize exactly what it was that was set before them. I -have never heard more interesting talk than at these male gatherings, -for it is notorious that though ladies greatly improve the appearance -of a feast they usually detract from the quality of the talk. Few men -are ever absolutely natural when there are women in the room. - -There was one special dinner, I fancy it was the hundredth of the -series, which was particularly interesting as the Prince of Wales, now -George V, was one of the eight, and gave us a most interesting account -of the voyage round the world from which he had just returned. Of the -rest of the company I can only recall Sir Henry Stanley, the traveller, -and Sir Crichton Browne. Twenty years later I met the King when he -visited a trade exhibition, and I attended as one of the directors of -Tuck’s famous postcard firm. He at once said: “Why, I have not seen -you since that pleasant dinner when you sat next to me at Sir Henry -Thompson’s.” It seemed to me to be a remarkable example of the royal -gift of memory. - -I have not often occupied a chair among the seats of the mighty. My -life has been too busy and too pre-occupied to allow me to stray far -from my beaten path. The mention of the Prince, however, reminds me -of the one occasion when I was privileged to entertain--or to attempt -to entertain--the present Queen. It was at a small dinner to which I -was invited by the courtesy of Lord Midleton whose charming wife, once -Madeleine Stanley, daughter of Lady Helier, I could remember since her -girlhood. Upon this occasion the Prince and Princess came in after -dinner, the latter sitting alone at one end of the room with a second -chair beside her own, which was occupied successively by the various -gentlemen who were to be introduced to her. I was led up in due course, -made my bow, and sat down at her request. I confess that I found it -heavy going at first, for I had heard somewhere that Royalty has to -make the first remark, and had it been the other way there was such a -gulf between us that I should not have known where to begin. However -she was very pleasant and gracious and began asking me some questions -about my works which brought me on to very easy ground. Indeed, I -became so interested in our talk that I was quite disappointed when -Mr. John Morley was led up, and I realized that it was time for me to -vacate the chair. - -There was another amusing incident on that eventful evening. I had been -asked to take in Lady Curzon, whose husband, then Viceroy of India, had -been unable to attend. The first couple had passed in and there was -a moment’s hesitation as to who should go next, but Lady Curzon and -I were nearest the door, so possibly with some little encouragement -from the lady we filed through. I thought nothing of the incident -but some great authority upon these matters came to me afterwards in -great excitement. “Do you know,” he said, “that you have established a -precedent and solved one of the most difficult and debatable matters -of etiquette that has ever caused ill-feeling in British Society.” -“The Lord Chancellor and the College of Heralds should be much obliged -to you, for you have given them a definite lead. There has never been -so vexed a question as to whether a Vice-reine when she is away from -the country where she represents royalty shall take precedence over -a Duchess. There was a Duchess in the room, but you by your decided -action have settled the matter for ever.” So who shall say that I have -done nothing in my life? - -Of the distinguished lights of the law whom I have met from time to -time I think that Sir Henry Hawkins--then become Lord Bampton--made -the most definite impression. I met him at a week-end gathering -at Cliveden, when Mr. Astor was our host. On the first night at -dinner, before the party had shaken down into mutual acquaintance, -the ex-judge, very old and as bald as an ostrich egg, was seated -opposite, and was wreathed with smiles as he made himself agreeable -to his neighbour. His appearance was so jovial that I remarked to the -lady upon my left: “It is curious to notice the appearance of our -_vis-à-vis_ and to contrast it with his reputation,” alluding to his -sinister record as an inexorable judge. She seemed rather puzzled by -my remark, so I added: “Of course you know who he is.” “Yes,” said -she, “his name is Conan Doyle and he writes novels.” I was hardly -middle-aged at the time and at my best physically, so that I was amused -at her mistake, which arose from some confusion in the list of guests. -I put my dinner card up against her wine-glass, so after that we got to -know each other. - -Hawkins was a most extraordinary man, and so capricious that one -never knew whether one was dealing with Jekyll or with Hyde. It was -certainly Hyde when he took eleven hours summing up in the Penge case, -and did all a man could do to have all four of the prisoners condemned -to death. Sir Edward Clarke was so incensed at his behaviour on this -occasion that he gave notice when Hawkins retired from the bench that -if there were the usual complimentary ceremonies he would protest. So -they were dropped. - -I might, on the other hand, illustrate the Jekyll side of him by a -story which he told me with his own lips. A prisoner had a pet mouse. -One day the brute of a warder deliberately trod upon it. The prisoner -caught up his dinner knife and dashed at the warder, who only just -escaped, the knife stabbing the door as it closed behind him. Hawkins -as judge wanted to get the man off, but the attempt at murder was -obvious and the law equally clear. What was he to do? In his charge to -the jury he said: “If a man tries to kill another in a way which is on -the face of it absurd, it becomes a foolish rather than a criminal act. -If, for example, a man in London discharged a pistol to hurt a man in -Edinburgh, we could only laugh at such an offence. So also when a man -stabs an iron-plated door while another man is at the other side of it -we cannot take it seriously.” The jury, who were probably only too glad -to follow such a lead, brought in a verdict of “Not guilty.” - -Another distinguished man of the law who left a very clear impression -upon my mind was Sir Francis Jeune, afterwards Lord St. Helier. I -attended several of Lady Jeune’s famous luncheon parties, which were -quite one of the outstanding institutions of London, like Gladstone’s -breakfasts in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. I am indebted -to this lady for very many kind actions. Her husband always impressed -me with his gentle wisdom and with his cultivated taste. He told me -that if every copy of Horace were destroyed he thought that he could -reconstruct most of it from memory. He presided over the Divorce -Courts, and I remember upon one occasion I said to him: “You must have -a very low opinion of human nature, Sir Francis, since the worst side -of it is for ever presented towards you.” “On the contrary,” said he -very earnestly, “my experience in the Divorce Courts has greatly raised -my opinion of humanity. There is so much chivalrous self-sacrifice, and -so much disposition upon the part of every one to make the best of a -bad business that it is extremely edifying.” This view seemed to me to -be worth recording. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF SPORT - - Racing--Shooting--A Fish Story--Boxing--Past and Present--Carpentier - and France--The Reno Fight--Football--Golf with the - Sirdar--Billiards--Cricket--W. G. Grace--Queer Experiences--Tragic - Matches--Humiliation--Success in Holland--Barrie’s Team--A - Precedent--Motor Accidents--Prince Henry Tour--Aviation--The Balloon - and the Aeroplane--Ski--Over a Precipice--Rifle Shooting. - - -It is here--before we approach what Maxwell has called “The Great -Interruption”--that I may perhaps break my narrative in order to -interpolate a chapter upon the general subject of my experiences of -sport, which have taken up an appreciable part of my life, added -greatly to its pleasure, and which can be better treated as a whole -than recounted seriatim. It may best be fitted in at this spot as my -sporting life one way and another may be said to have reached its modest -zenith about that time. - -As one grows old one looks back at one’s career in sport as a thing -completed. Yet I have at least held on to it as long as I could, for -I played a hard match of Association football at forty-four, and I -played cricket for ten years more. I have never specialized, and have -therefore been a second-rater in all things. I have made up for it -by being an all-rounder, and have had, I dare say, as much fun out -of sport as many an adept. It would be odd if a man could try as -many games as I for so many years without having some interesting -experiences or forming a few opinions which would bear recording and -discussion. - -And first of all let me “damn the sins I have no mind to” by recording -what most of my friends will regard as limitation. I never could look -upon flat-racing as a true sport. Sport is what a man does, not what a -horse does. Skill and judgment are shown, no doubt, by the professional -jockeys, but I think it may be argued that in nine cases out of ten -the best horse wins, and would have equally won, could his head be -kept straight, had there been a dummy on his back. But making every -allowance on the one side, for what human qualities may be called -forth, and for any improvement of the breed of horses (though I am told -that the same pains in other directions would produce infinitely more -fruitful and generally useful results), and putting on the other side -the demoralization from betting, the rascality among some book-makers, -and the collection of undesirable characters brought together by a race -meeting, I cannot avoid the conclusion that the harm greatly outweighs -the good from a broadly national point of view. Yet I recognize, -of course, that it is an amusement which lies so deeply in human -nature--the oldest, perhaps, of all amusements which have come down to -us--that it must have its place in our system until the time may come -when it will be gradually modified, developing, perhaps, some purifying -change, as prize-fighting did when it turned to contests with the -gloves. - -I have purposely said “flat-racing,” because I think a stronger case, -though not, perhaps, an entirely sound one, could be made out for -steeplechasing. Eliminate the mob and the money, and then, surely, -among feats of human skill and hardihood there are not many to match -that of the winner of a really stiff point-to-point, while the man -who rides at the huge barriers of the Grand National has a heart for -anything. As in the old days of the ring, it is not the men nor the -sport, but it is the followers who cast a shadow on the business. Go -down to Waterloo and meet any returning race train, if you doubt it. - -If I have alienated half my readers by my critical attitude to the -Turf, I shall probably offend the other half by stating that I cannot -persuade myself that we are justified in taking life as a pleasure. -To shoot for the pot must be right, since man must feed, and to kill -creatures which live upon others (the hunting of foxes, for example) -must also be right, since to slay one is to save many; but the rearing -of birds in order to kill them, and the shooting of such sensitive and -inoffensive animals as hares and deer, cannot, I think, be justified. -I must admit that I shot a good deal before I came to this conclusion. -Perhaps the fact, while it prevents my assuming any airs of virtue, -will give my opinion greater weight, since good shooting is still -within my reach, and I know nothing more exhilarating than to wait on -the borders of an autumn-tinted wood, to hear the crackling advance -of beaters, to mark the sudden whirr and the yell of “Mark over,” and -then, over the topmost branches, to see a noble cock pheasant whizzing -down wind at a pace which pitches him a 100 yards behind you when you -have dropped him. But when your moment of exultation is over, and -you note what a beautiful creature he is and how one instant of your -pleasure has wrecked him, you feel that you had better think no longer -if you mean to slip two more cartridges into your gun and stand by for -another. Worse still is it when you hear the child-like wail of the -wounded hare. I should think that there are few sportsmen who have not -felt a disgust at their own handiwork when they have heard it. So, too, -when you see the pheasant fly on with his legs showing beneath him as -sign that he is hard hit. He drops into the thick woods and is lost to -sight. Perhaps it is as well for your peace of mind that he should be -lost to thought also. - -Of course, one is met always by the perfectly valid argument that the -creatures would not live at all if it were not for the purposes of -sport, and that it is presumably better from their point of view that -they should eventually meet a violent death than that they should never -have existed. No doubt this is true. But there is another side of the -question as to the effect of the sport upon ourselves--whether it does -not blunt our own better feelings, harden our sympathies, brutalize our -natures. A coward can do it as well as a brave man; a weakling can do -it as well as a strong man. There is no ultimate good from it. Have we -a moral right then, to kill creatures for amusement? I know many of the -best and most kind-hearted men who do it, but still I feel that in a -more advanced age it will no longer be possible. - -And yet I am aware of my own inconsistency when I say I am in sympathy -with fishing, and would gladly have a little if I knew where to get -it. And yet, is it wholly inconsistent? Is a cold-blooded creature of -low organization like a fish to be regarded in the same way as the -hare which cries out in front of the beagles, or the deer which may -carry the rifle bullet away in its side? If there is any cruelty it -is surely of a much less degree. Besides, is it not the sweet solitude -of Nature, the romantic quest, rather than the actual capture which -appeals to the fisherman? One thinks of the stories of trout and salmon -which have taken another fly within a few minutes of having broken away -from a former one, and one feels that their sense of pain must be very -different from our own. - -I once had the best of an exchange of fishing stories, which does not -sound like a testimonial to my veracity. It was in a Birmingham inn, -and a commercial traveller was boasting of his success. I ventured to -back the weight of the last three fish which I had been concerned in -catching against any day’s take of his life-time. He closed with the -bet and quoted some large haul, 100 lbs. or more. “Now, sir,” he asked -triumphantly, “what was the weight of your three fish?” “Just over 200 -tons,” I answered. “Whales?” “Yes, three Greenland whales.” “I give you -best,” he cried; but whether as a fisherman, or as a teller of fish -stories, I am not sure. As a matter of fact, I had only returned that -year from the Arctic seas, and the three fish in question were, in -truth, the last which I had helped to catch. - -My experiences during my Arctic voyage both with whales and bears I -have already touched upon, so I will not refer to them again, though it -was the greatest period of sport which has ever come my way. - -I have always been keen upon the noble old English sport of boxing, -and, though of no particular class myself, I suppose I might describe -my form as that of a fair average amateur. I should have been a better -man had I taught less and learned more, but after my first tuition I -had few chances of professional teaching. However, I have done a good -deal of mixed boxing among many different types of men, and had as -much pleasure from it as from any form of sport. It stood me in good -stead aboard the whaler. On the very first evening I had a strenuous -bout with the steward, who was an excellent sportsman. I heard him -afterwards, through the partition of the cabin, declare that I was “the -best sur-r-r-geon we’ve had, Colin--he’s blacked my ee.” It struck me -as a singular test of my medical ability, but I dare say it did no -harm. - -I remember when I was a medical practitioner going down to examine -a man’s life for insurance in a little Sussex village. He was the -gentleman farmer of the place, and a most sporting and jovial soul. It -was a Saturday, and I enjoyed his hospitality that evening, staying -over till Monday. After breakfast it chanced that several neighbours -dropped in, one of whom, an athletic young farmer, was fond of the -gloves. Conversation soon brought out the fact that I had a weakness -in the same direction. The result was obvious. Two pairs of gloves -were hunted from some cupboard, and in a few minutes we were hard at -it, playing light at first and letting out as we warmed. It was soon -clear that there was no room inside a house for two heavy-weights, so -we adjourned to the front lawn. The main road ran across the end of it, -with a low wall of just the right height to allow the village to rest -its elbows on it and enjoy the spectacle. We fought several very brisk -rounds, with no particular advantage either way, but the contest always -stands out in my memory for its queer surroundings and the old English -picture in which it was set. It is one of several curious bye-battles -in my career. I recollect another where another man and I, returning -from a ball at five of a summer morning, went into his room and fought -in our dress clothes several very vigorous rounds as a wind-up to the -evening’s exercise. - -They say that every form of knowledge comes useful sooner or later. -Certainly my own experience in boxing and my very large acquaintance -with the history of the prize-ring found their scope when I wrote -“Rodney Stone.” No one but a fighting man would ever, I think, quite -understand or appreciate some of the detail. A friend of mine read the -scene where Boy Jim fights Berks to a prize-fighter as he lay in what -proved to be his last illness. The man listened with growing animation -until the reader came to the point where the second advises Boy Jim, -in technical jargon, how to get at his awkward antagonist. “That’s it! -By God, he’s got him!” shouted the man in the bed. It was an incident -which gave me pleasure when I heard it. - -I have never concealed my opinion that the old prize-ring was -an excellent thing from a national point of view--exactly as -glove-fighting is now. Better that our sports should be a little too -rough than that we should run a risk of effeminacy. But the ring -outlasted its time. It was ruined by the villainous mobs who cared -nothing for the chivalry of sport or the traditions of British fair -play as compared with the money gain which the contest might bring. -Their blackguardism drove out the good men--the men who really did -uphold the ancient standards, and so the whole institution passed into -rottenness and decay. But now the glove contests carried on under the -discipline of the National Sporting or other clubs perpetuate the noble -old sport without a possibility of the more evil elements creeping -into it once more. An exhibition of hardihood without brutality, of -good-humoured courage without savagery, of skill without trickery, is, -I think, the very highest which sport can give. People may smile at the -mittens, but a twenty-round contest with four-ounce gloves is quite as -punishing an ordeal as one could wish to endure. There is as little -room for a coward as in the rougher days of old, and the standard of -endurance is probably as high as in the average prize-fight. - -One wonders how our champions of to-day would have fared at the -hands of the heroes of the past. I know something of this end of the -question, for I have seen nearly all the great boxers of my time, from -J. L. Sullivan down to Tommy Burns, Carpentier, Bombardier Wells, -Beckett and that little miracle Jimmy Wilde. But how about the other -end--the men of old? Wonderful Jem Mace was the only link between them. -On the one hand, he was supreme in the ’sixties as a knuckle-fighter; -on the other, he gave the great impetus to glove-fighting in America, -and more especially in Australia, which has brought over such champions -as Frank Slavin and Fitz-simmons, who, through Mace’s teaching, derive -straight from the classic line of British boxers. He of all men might -have drawn a just comparison between the old and the new. But even -his skill and experience might be at fault, for it is notorious that -many of the greatest fighters under the old régime were poor hands -with the mittens. Men could bang poor Tom Sayers all round the ring -with the gloves, who would not have dared to get over the ropes had he -been without them. I have seen Mace box, and even when over sixty it -is wonderful how straight was his left, how quick his feet, and how -impregnable his guard. - -After the Great War, one can see that those of us who worked for the -revival of boxing wrought better than we knew, for at the supreme test -of all time--the test which has settled the history of the future--it -has played a marked part. I do not mean that a man used his fists in -the war, but I mean--and every experienced instructor will, I am sure, -endorse it--that the combative spirit and aggressive quickness gave us -the attacking fire and helped especially in bayonet work. But it was -to our allies of France that the chief advantage came. I believe that -Carpentier, the boxer, did more to win the war for France than any -other man save the actual generals or politicians. The public proof -that a Frenchman could be at the very head of his class, as Ledoux was -also at a lighter weight, gives a physical self-respect to a nation -which tinges the spirit of every single member of it. It was a great -day for France when English sports, boxing, Rugby football and others -came across to them, and when a young man’s ideal ceased to be amatory -adventure with an occasional duel. England has taught Europe much, but -nothing of more value than this. - -To return to my own small experiences of the game, I might have had one -very notable one, for I was asked to referee the great contest when the -champions of the white and black races fought for what may prove to be -almost the last time. - -My first intimation was a cable followed by the following letter:-- - - NEW YORK, - _December 9, 1909_. - - MY DEAR SIR,-- - - I hope you will pardon the liberty I took as a stranger in cabling - to you asking if you would act at the championship battle between - Jeffries and Johnson. The fact is that when the articles were - signed recently your name was suggested for referee, and Tex - Rickard, promoter of the fight, was greatly interested, as were many - others. I believe it will interest you to know that the opinion was - unanimous that you would do admirably in the position. In a voting - contest several persons sent in your name as their choice. Believe - me among sporting men of the best class in America you have many - strong admirers; your splendid stories of the ring, and your avowed - admiration for the great sport of boxing have made you thousands of - friends. - - It was because of this extremely friendly feeling for you in America - that I took the liberty of cabling to you. I thank you for your reply. - - It would indeed rejoice the hearts of the men in this country if you - were at the ring side when the great negro fighter meets the white man - Jeffries for the world’s championship. - - I am, my dear Sir, - Yours sincerely, - IRVING JEFFERSON LEWIS, - Managing Editor _New York Morning Telegraph_. - - -I was much inclined to accept this honourable invitation, though my -friends pictured me as winding up with a revolver at one ear and a -razor at the other. However, the distance and my engagements presented -a final bar. - -If boxing is the finest single man sport, I think that Rugby football -is the best collective one. Strength, courage, speed and resource are -great qualities to include in a single game. I have always wished that -it had come more my way in life, but my football was ruined, as many a -man’s is, by the fact that at my old school they played a hybrid game -peculiar to the place, with excellent points of its own, but unfitting -the youngster for any other. All these local freak games, wall games, -Winchester games, and so on are national misfortunes, for while our -youths are wasting their energies upon them--those precious early -energies which make the instinctive players--the young South African or -New Zealander is brought up on the real universal Rugby, and so comes -over to pluck a few more laurel leaves out of our depleted wreath. In -Australia I have seen in Victoria a hybrid, though excellent game of -their own, but they have had the sense in other parts to fall into -line, and are already taking the same high position which they hold in -other branches of sport. I hope that our headmasters will follow the -same course. - -In spite of my wretched training I played for a short time as a forward -in the Edinburgh University team, but my want of knowledge of the game -was too heavy a handicap. Afterwards I took to Association, and played -first goal and then back for Portsmouth, when that famous club was an -amateur organization. Even then we could put a very fair team in the -field, and were runners-up for the County Cup the last season that I -played. In the same season I was invited to play for the county. I was -always too slow, however, to be a really good back, though I was a long -and safe kick. After a long hiatus I took up football again in South -Africa and organized a series of inter-hospital matches in Bloemfontein -which helped to take our minds away from enteric. My old love treated -me very scurvily, however, for I received a foul from a man’s knee -which buckled two of my ribs and brought my games to a close. I have -played occasionally since, but there is no doubt that as a man grows -older a brisk charge shakes him up as it never did before. Let him -turn to golf, and be thankful that there is still one splendid game -which can never desert him. There may be objections to the “Royal and -Ancient”--but a game which takes four miles of country for the playing -must always have a majesty of its own. - -Personally I was an enthusiastic, but a very inefficient golfer--a ten -at my best, and at my worst outside the pale of all decent handicaps. -But surely it is a great testimony to the qualities of a game when a -man can be both enthusiastic and inefficient. It is a proof at least -that a man plays for the game’s sake and not for personal kudos. Golf -is the coquette of games. It always lures one on and always evades one. -Ten years ago I thought I had nearly got it. I hope so to-day. But my -scoring cards will show, I fear, that the coquette has not yet been -caught. The elderly lover cannot hope to win her smile. - -I used in my early golfing days to practise on the very rudimentary -links in front of the Mena Hotel, just under the Pyramids. It was -a weird course, where, if you sliced your ball, you might find it -bunkered in the grave of some Rameses or Thothmes of old. It was here, -I believe, that the cynical stranger, after watching my energetic -but ineffectual game, remarked that he had always understood that -there was a special tax for excavating in Egypt. I have a pleasant -recollection of Egyptian golf in a match played with the late Sirdar, -then head of the Intelligence Department. When my ball was teed I -observed that his negro caddie pointed two fingers at it and spat, -which meant, as I was given to understand, that he cursed it for the -rest of the game. Certainly I got into every hazard in the course, -though I must admit that I have accomplished that when there was -no Central African curse upon me. Those were the days before the -reconquest of the Soudan, and I was told by Colonel Wingate--as he -then was--that his spies coming down from Omdurman not infrequently -delivered their messages to him while carrying his golf clubs, to avoid -the attention of the Calipha’s spies, who abounded in Cairo. On this -occasion the Sirdar beat me well, but with a Christian caddie I turned -the tables on him at Dunbar, and now we have signed articles to play -off the rubber at Khartoum, no cursing allowed. When that first match -was played we should as soon have thought of arranging to play golf in -the moon. - -Every now and then I give up the game in disgust at my own -incompetence, but only to be lured on once more. Hunting in an old desk -I came upon an obituary which I had written for my game at some moment -of special depression. It ran, “Sacred to the memory of my golf. It was -never strong, being permanently afflicted with a deformed stance and -an undeveloped swing. After long weakness cheerfully borne it finally -succumbed, and was buried in the eighteenth hole, regretted by numerous -caddies.” However it is out and about once more, none the worse for -this premature interment. - -There is said to be a considerable analogy between golf and billiards, -so much so that success in the one generally leads to success in the -other. Personally, I have not found it so, for though I may claim, I -suppose, to be above the average amateur at billiards, I am probably -below him in golf. I have never quite attained the three-figure break, -but I have so often topped the eighty, and even the ninety, that I have -lived in constant hope. My friend, the late General Drayson, who was -a great authority on the game, used to recommend that every player -should ascertain what he called his “decimal,” by which he meant how -many innings it took him, whether scoring or not, to make 100. The -number, of course, varies with the luck of the balls and the mood of -the player; but, taken over a dozen or twenty games, it gives a fair -average idea of the player’s form, and a man by himself can in this way -test his own powers. If, for example, a player could, on an average, -score 100 in twenty innings then his average would be five, which is -very fair amateur form. If a man finds his “decimal” rise as high as -ten over a sequence of games, he may be sure that he can hold his -own against most players that he is likely to meet. I daresay my own -decimal when I was in practise would be from six to eight. - -I was never good enough for the big matches, and though I once went in -for the Amateur championship it was not out of any illusions about my -game, but because I was specially asked to do so, as it was advisable -to strengthen the undoubted amateur element in the contest. By the luck -of a bye, and by beating a player who was about my own form, I got into -the third round, when I ran across Mr. Evans, who eventually reached -the final with my scalp as well as several others at his girdle. I -made 650 against his 1,000, which, as I was not helped by a bad fall -from a motor bike a few days before, was as much as I could expect. -Forty-two off the red was my best effort. Surely billiards is the king -of all indoor games, and should have some writer who would do for it -in prose what John Nyren did for cricket. I have never seen any worthy -appreciation of its infinite varieties from the forcing losing hazard -which goes roaring into a top pocket with a clash upon the rail, to -the feather stroke so delicate that it is only the quiver of reflected -light upon the object ball which shows that it has indeed been struck. -Greatest of all is the ball heavily loaded with side which drifts down -the long cushion and then is sucked against every apparent law into the -pocket as though it were the centre of a whirlpool. Mr. E. V. Lucas is -one who could do it with discernment. - -I have one funny recollection of billiards, when I wandered into some -small hotel in a South-Coast watering place, and for want of something -to do played the marker. He was a pompous person in a frock coat with -a very good opinion of his own game, which was really ruined by a -habit he had of jerking. I won the match, which was not difficult to -do, and then I thought it a kindness to point out to the man how he -could improve his game. He took this badly, however, and hinted that -he allowed gentlemen who played him to get the better of him. This in -turn annoyed me, so I said: “Look here. I will come in after dinner -and you can show all you can do, and you shall have a sovereign if you -win.” After dinner his game was worse than ever, while I had amazing -luck and made the 100 in about three shots. As I put on my coat and was -leaving the room the queer little fellow sidled up to me and said: “I -beg pardon, sir, but is your name Roberts?” - -My earliest recollection of cricket is not a particularly pleasant one. -When I was a very small boy at a preparatory school I was one of a -group of admirers who stood around watching a young cricketer who had -just made his name hitting big hits off the school bowlers. One of the -big hits landed on my knee-cap and the cricketer in his own famous arms -carried me off to the school infirmary. The name, Tom Emmett, lingers -in my memory, though it was some years before I appreciated exactly -what he stood for in the game. I think, like most boys, I would rather -have been knocked down by a first-class cricketer than picked up by a -second-rater. - -That was the beginning of my acquaintance with a game which has on the -whole given me more pleasure during my life than any other branch of -sport. I have ended by being its victim, for a fast bowler some years -ago happened to hit me twice in the same place under my left knee, -which has left a permanent weakness. I have had as long an inning as -one could reasonably expect, and carry many pleasant friendships and -recollections away with me. - -I was a keen cricketer as a boy, but in my student days was too -occupied to touch it. Then I took it up again, but my progress was -interrupted by work and travel. I had some cause, therefore, to hold -on to the game as I had lost so much of it in my youth. Finally, I -fulfilled a secret ambition by getting into the fringe of first-class -cricket, though rather, perhaps, through the good nature of others -than my own merits. However, I can truly say that in the last season -when I played some first-class cricket, including matches against Kent, -Derbyshire, and the London County, I had an average of thirty-two for -those games, so I may claim to have earned my place. I was more useful, -however, in an amateur team, for I was a fairly steady and reliable -bowler, and I could generally earn my place in that department, while -with the M.C.C. the professional talent is usually so strong that the -amateur who fails in batting and is not a particularly good field has -no chance of atoning with the ball. Yet even with the M.C.C. I have -occasionally had a gleam of success. Such a one came some years ago, -when the team presented me with a little silver hat for getting three -consecutive clean-bowled wickets against the Gentlemen of Warwick. -One of my victims explained his downfall by assuring me that he had -it thoroughly in his head that I was a left-handed bowler, and when -the ball came from my right hand he was too bewildered to stop it. The -reason is not so good as that of an artist who, when I had bowled him -out, exclaimed: “Who can play against a man who bowls in a crude pink -shirt against an olive-green background?” - -A bowler has many days when everything is against him, when a hard, -smooth wicket takes all the spin and devil out of him, when he goes all -round and over the wicket, when lofted balls refuse to come to hand, -or, if they do come, refuse to stay. But, on the other hand, he has his -recompense with many a stroke of good fortune. It was in such a moment -that I had the good luck to get the wicket of W. G. Grace, the greatest -of all cricketers. - -W. G. had his speedy revenge. There was nothing more childlike and -bland than that slow, tossed-up bowling of his, and nothing more subtle -and treacherous. He was always on the wicket or about it, never sent -down a really loose ball, worked continually a few inches from the leg, -and had a perfect command of length. It was the latter quality which -was my downfall. I had made some thirty or forty, and began to relax -in the deep respect with which I faced the Doctor’s deliveries. I had -driven him for four, and jumped out at him again the next ball. Seeing -my intention, as a good bowler does, he dropped his ball a foot or -two shorter. I reached it with difficulty, but again I scored four. -By this time I was very pleased with myself, and could see no reason -why every one of these delightful slows should not mean a four to me. -Out I danced to reach the next one on the half volley. It was tossed a -little higher up in the air, which gave the delusion that it was coming -right up to the bat, but as a matter of fact it pitched well short of -my reach, broke sharply across and Lilley, the wicket-keeper, had my -bails off in a twinkling. One feels rather cheap when one walks from -the middle of the pitch to the pavilion, longing to kick oneself for -one’s own foolishness all the way. I have only once felt smaller, and -that was when I was bowled by A. P. Lucas, by the most singular ball -that I have ever received. He propelled it like a quoit into the air to -a height of at least 30 feet, and it fell straight and true on to the -top of the bails. I have often wondered what a good batsman would have -made of that ball. To play it one would have needed to turn the blade -of the bat straight up, and could hardly fail to give a chance. I tried -to cut it off my stumps, with the result that I knocked down my wicket -and broke my bat, while the ball fell in the midst of this general -chaos. I spent the rest of the day wondering gloomily what I ought to -have done--and I am wondering yet. - -I have had two unusual experiences upon Lord’s ground. One was that I -got a century in the very first match that I played there. It was an -unimportant game, it is true, but still the surprising fact remained. -It was a heavy day, and my bat, still encrusted with the classic mud, -hangs as a treasured relic in my hall. The other was less pleasant and -even more surprising. I was playing for the Club against Kent, and -faced for the first time Bradley, who was that year one of the fastest -bowlers in England. His first delivery I hardly saw, and it landed -with a terrific thud upon my thigh. A little occasional pain is one -of the chances of cricket, and one takes it as cheerfully as one can, -but on this occasion it suddenly became sharp to an unbearable degree. -I clapped my hand to the spot, and found to my amazement that I was -on fire. The ball had landed straight on a small tin vesta box in my -trousers pocket, had splintered the box, and set the matches ablaze. -It did not take me long to turn out my pocket and scatter the burning -vestas over the grass. I should have thought this incident unique, but -Alec Hearne, to whom I told it, assured me that he had seen more than -one accident of the kind. W. G. was greatly amused. “Couldn’t get you -out--had to set you on fire!” he cried, in the high voice which seemed -so queer from so big a body. - -There are certain matches which stand out in one’s memory for their -peculiar surroundings. One was a match played against Cape de Verde at -that island on the way to South Africa. There is an Atlantic telegraph -station there with a large staff, and they turn out an excellent -eleven. I understand that they played each transport as it passed, -and that they had defeated all, including the Guards. We made up a -very fair team, however, under the captaincy of Lord Henry Scott, and -after a hard fight we defeated the islanders. I don’t know how many of -our eleven left their bones in South Africa; three at least--Blasson, -Douglas Forbes (who made our top score), and young Maxwell Craig never -returned. I remember one even more tragic match in which I played -for the Incogniti against Aldershot Division a few months before the -African War. The regiments quartered there were those which afterwards -saw the hardest service. Major Ray, who made the top score, was killed -at Magersfontein. Young Stanley, who went in first with me, met his -death in the Yeomanry. Taking the two teams right through, I am sure -that half the men were killed or wounded within two years. How little -we could have foreseen it that sunny summer day! - -It is dangerous when an old cricketer begins to reminisce, because so -much comes back to his mind. He has but to smell the hot rubber of a -bat handle to be flooded with memories. They are not always glorious. I -remember three ladies coming to see me play against one of the Bedford -schools. The boys politely applauded as I approached the wicket. A very -small boy lobbed up the first ball which I played at. It went up into -the air, and was caught at point by the very smallest boy I have ever -seen in decent cricket. It seemed to me about a mile as I walked back -from the wicket to the pavilion. I don’t think those three ladies ever -recovered their confidence in my cricketing powers. - -As a set-off to this confession of failure let me add a small instance -of success, where by “taking thought” I saved a minor international -match. It was at the Hague in 1892, and the game was a wandering -British team against Holland. The Dutch were an excellent sporting lot, -and had one remarkable bowler in Posthuma, a left-hander, who had so -huge a break with his slow ball that it was not uncommon for him to -pitch the ball right outside the matting on which we played and yet -bring it on to the wicket. We won our various local matches without -much difficulty, but we were aware that we should have a stiff fight -with United Holland, the more so as Dutch hospitality was almost as -dangerous to our play as Dutch cricket. - -So it proved, and we were in the position that with four wickets in -hand they had only fifteen runs to make with two batsmen well set. I -had not bowled during the tour, for as we were a scratch team, mostly -from the schoolmaster class, we did not know each other’s capacity. -Seeing, however, that things were getting desperate, I went the length -of asking our skipper to give me a chance. - -I had observed that the batsmen had been very well taught by their -English professional, and that they all played in most orthodox fashion -with a perfectly straight bat. That was why I thought I might get them -out. I brought every fielder round to the off, for I felt that they -would not think it correct to pull, and I tossed up good length balls -about a foot on the off side. It came off exactly as I expected. The -pro. had not told them what to do with that particular sort of tosh, -and the four men were all caught for as many runs by mid-off or cover. -The team in their exultation proceeded to carry me into the pavilion, -but whether it was my sixteen stone or the heat of the weather, they -tired of the job midway and let me down with a crash which shook the -breath out of me--so Holland was avenged. I played against them again -when they came to England, and made sixty-seven, but got no wickets, -for they had mastered the off-side theory. - -Some of my quaintest cricket reminiscences are in connection with -J. M. Barrie’s team--the “Allah-Akbarries,” or “Lord help us” as we -were called. We played in the old style, caring little about the game -and a good deal about a jolly time and pleasant scenery. Broadway, -the country home of Mr. Navarro and his wife, formerly Mary Anderson, -the famous actress, was one of our favourite haunts, and for several -years in succession we played the Artists there. Bernard Partridge, -Barrie, A. E. W. Mason, Abbey the Academician, Blomfield the architect, -Marriott Watson, Charles Whibley, and others of note took part, and -there were many whimsical happenings, which were good fun if they were -not good cricket. I thought all record of our games had faded from -human ken, but lately a controversy was raised over Mr. Armstrong, -the Australian captain, bowling the same man from opposite ends on -consecutive overs. This led to the following paragraph in a Birmingham -paper, which, I may say, entirely exaggerates my powers but is -otherwise correct. - - “BARRIE AND ARMSTRONG. - - “I am not surprised that in the matter of Mr. Armstrong’s conduct - in bowling two consecutive overs from different ends, no reference - has been made to the important precedent which on a similar occasion - Sir James Barrie failed to establish (writes a correspondent of - the “Nation”). The occasion was his captaincy (at Broadway, in - Worcestershire) of an eleven of writers against a strong team of - alleged artists. The circumstances were these. One side had compiled - seventy-two runs, chiefly, if not wholly, contributed by Sir Arthur - Conan Doyle. - - “The sun-worshippers had thereupon responded with an equal number - of runs for the loss of all but their last wicket. The ninth wicket - had fallen to the last ball of Sir Arthur’s over, the other eight - having succumbed to the same performer, then in his prime. Actuated, - apparently, by the belief that Sir Arthur was the only bowler of his - side capable of taking or reaching a wicket, even in Worcestershire, - Sir James thereupon put him on at the opposite end. - - “Before, however, he could take a practice ball, a shout was heard - from the artists’ pavilion, and the nine unengaged players were seen - issuing from it to contest our captain’s decision. After an exciting - contest, it was ultimately given in their favour, with the result - that the first ball of the new bowler was hit for two, assisted by - overthrows, and the innings and match were won by the artists.” - -Of Barrie’s team I remember that it was printed at the bottom of our -cards that the practice ground was in the “National Observer” office. -Mr. Abbey, the famous artist, usually captained against Barrie, and it -was part of the agreement that each should have a full pitch to leg -just to start his score. I remember my horror when by mistake I bowled -a straight first ball to Abbey, and so broke the unwritten law as -well as the wicket. Abbey knew nothing of the game, but Barrie was no -novice. He bowled an insidious left-hand good length ball coming from -leg which was always likely to get a wicket. - -Talking of bowling, I have twice performed the rare feat of getting all -ten wickets. Once it was against a London Club, and once I ran through -the side of a Dragoon Regiment at Norwich. My best performance at Lords -was seven wickets for fifty-one against Cambridgeshire in 1904. - -Of fencing my experience has been limited, and yet I have seen enough -to realize what a splendid toughening exercise it is. I nearly had an -ugly mishap when practising it. I had visited a medical man in Southsea -who was an expert with the foils, and at his invitation had a bout with -him. I had put on the mask and glove, but was loath to have the trouble -of fastening on the heavy chest plastron. He insisted, however, and his -insistence saved me from an awkward wound, for, coming in heavily upon -a thrust, his foil broke a few inches from the end, and the sharp point -thus created went deeply into the pad which covered me. I learned a -lesson that day. - -On the whole, considering the amount of varied sport which I have done, -I have come off very well as regards bodily injury. One finger broken -at football, two at cricket (one after the other in the same season), -the disablement of my knee--that almost exhausts it. Though a heavy -man and quite an indifferent rider, I have never hurt myself in a fair -selection of falls in the hunting field and elsewhere. Once, as I have -narrated, when I was down, the horse kicked me over the eye with his -forefoot, but I got off with a rather ragged wound, though it might -have been very much more serious. - -Indeed, when it comes to escapes, I have had more than my share of -luck. One of the worst was in a motor accident, when the machine, -which weighed over a ton, ran up a high bank, threw me out on a gravel -drive below, and then, turning over, fell on top of me. The steering -wheel projected slightly from the rest, and thus broke the impact and -undoubtedly saved my life, but it gave way under the strain, and the -weight of the car settled across my spine just below the neck, pinning -my face down on the gravel, and pressing with such terrific force as to -make it impossible to utter a sound. I felt the weight getting heavier -moment by moment, and wondered how long my vertebræ could stand it. -However, they did so long enough to enable a crowd to collect and the -car to be levered off me. I should think there are few who can say that -they have held up a ton weight across their spine and lived unparalyzed -to talk about it. It is an acrobatic feat which I have no desire to -repeat. - -There is plenty of sport in driving one’s own motor and meeting the -hundred and one unexpected roadside adventures and difficulties which -are continually arising. These were greater a few years ago, when -motors were themselves less solidly and accurately constructed, drivers -were less skilled, and frightened horses were more in evidence. No -invention of modern civilization has done so much for developing a -man’s power of resource and judgment as the motor. To meet and overcome -a sudden emergency is the best of human training, and if a man is his -own driver and mechanician on a fairly long journey he can hardly fail -to have some experience of it. - -I well remember in the early days of motoring going up to Birmingham -to take delivery of my new twelve horse-power Wolseley. I had invested -in the sort of peaked yachting cap which was considered the correct -badge of the motorist in those days, but as I paced the platform of -New Street Station a woman removed any conceit I might have over my -headgear, by asking me peremptorily how the trains ran to Walsall. -She took me for one of the officials. I got the car safely home, -and no doubt it was a good car as things went at that time, but the -secret of safe brakes had not yet been discovered, and my pair used -to break as if they were glass. More than once I have known what it -is to steer a car when it is flying backwards under no control down -a winding hill. Looking back at those days it seems to me that I was -under the car nearly as much as on the top of it, for every repair -had to be done from below. There were few accidents from smashing my -differential, seizing my engines, and stripping my gears, which I have -not endured. It was a chain-driven machine, and I can well remember -one absurd incident when the chain jumped the cogs and fell off. We -were on a long slope of 3 miles and ran on with the engine turned off -quite unconscious of what had occurred. When we reached level ground -the car naturally stopped, and we got out, opened the bonnet, tested -the electricity, and were utterly puzzled as to what was amiss, when a -yokel in a cart arrived waving our motive power over his head. He had -picked it up on the road. - -Our descendants will never realize the terror of the horses at this -innovation, nor the absurd scenes which it caused. On one occasion -I was motoring down a narrow lane in Norfolk, with my mother in the -open tonneau. Coming round a curve we came upon two carts, one behind -the other. The leading horse, which had apparently never seen a motor -before, propped his forelegs out, his ears shot forward, his eyes -stared rigidly and then in a moment he whirled round, ran up the bank, -and tried to escape behind his comrade. This he could have done but -for the cart, which he also dragged up the bank. Horse and cart fell -sideways on the other horse and cart, and there was such a mixture that -you could not disentangle it. The carts were full of turnips and these -formed a top dressing over the interlaced shafts and the struggling -horses. I sprang out and was trying to help the enraged farmer to get -something right end up, when I glanced at my own car which was almost -involved in the pile. There was my dear old mother sitting calmly -knitting in the midst of all the chaos. It was really like something in -a dream. - -My most remarkable motor car experience was when I drove my own sixteen -horse-power Dietrich-Lorraine in the International Road Competition -organized by Prince Henry of Prussia in 1911. This affair is discussed -later, when I come to the preludes of war. I came away from it with -sinister forebodings. The impression left on my mind by the whole -incident is shown by the fact that one of the first things I did when I -got to London was to recommend a firm of which I am director to remove -a large sum which it had lying in Berlin. I have no doubt that it would -have continued to lie there and that we might have lost it. As to the -contest itself it ended in a British victory, which was owing to the -staunch way in which we helped each other when in difficulties, while -the Germans were more a crowd of individuals than a team. Their cars -were excellent and so was their driving. My own little car did very -well and only dropped marks at Sutton Bank in Yorkshire, that terrible -hill, one in three at one point, with a hair-pin bend. When we finally -panted out our strength I put my light-weight chauffeur to the wheel, -ran round, and fairly boosted her up from behind, but we were fined so -many marks for my leaving the driving wheel. Not to get up would have -meant three times the forfeit, so my tactics were well justified. - -No doubt the coming science of aviation will develop the same qualities -as motor driving to an even higher degree. It is a form of sport in -which I have only aspirations and little experience. I had one balloon -ascent in which we covered some 25 miles and ascended 6,000 feet, -which was so delightful an expedition that I have always been eager -for another and a longer one. A man has a natural trepidation the -first time he leaves the ground, but I remember that, as I stood by -the basket with the gas-bag swinging about above me and the assistants -clinging to the ropes, some one pointed out an elderly gentleman -and said: “That is the famous Mr. So-and-So, the aeronaut.” I saw a -venerable person and I asked how many ascents he had made. “About -a thousand,” was the answer. No eloquence or reasoning could have -convinced me so completely that I might get into the basket with a -cheerful mind, though I will admit that for the first minute or so -one feels very strange, and keeps an uncommonly tight grip of the -side-ropes. This soon passes, however, and one is lost in the wonder of -the prospect and the glorious feeling of freedom and detachment. As in -a ship, it is the moment of nearing land once more which is the moment -of danger--or, at least, of discomfort; but beyond a bump or two, we -came to rest very quietly in the heart of a Kentish hop-field. - -I had one aeroplane excursion in rather early days, but the experience -was not entirely a pleasant one. Machines were under-engined in those -days and very much at the mercy of the wind. We went up at Hendon--May -25, 1911, the date--but the machine was a heavy bi-plane, and though it -went down wind like a swallow it was more serious when we turned and -found, looking down, that the objects below us were stationary or even -inclined to drift backwards. However, we got back to the field at last, -and I think the pilot was as relieved as I. What impressed me most was -the terrible racket of the propeller, comparing so unfavourably with -the delicious calm of the balloon journey. - -There is one form of sport in which I have, I think, been able to -do some practical good, for I can claim to have been the first to -introduce skis into the Grisons division of Switzerland, or at least -to demonstrate their practical utility as a means of getting across in -winter from one valley to another. It was in 1894 that I read Nansen’s -account of his crossing of Greenland, and thus became interested in -the subject of ski-ing. It chanced that I was compelled to spend that -winter in the Davos valley, and I spoke about the matter to Tobias -Branger, a sporting tradesman in the village, who in turn interested -his brother. We sent for skis from Norway, and for some weeks afforded -innocent amusement to a large number of people who watched our awkward -movements and complex tumbles. The Brangers made much better progress -than I. At the end of a month or so we felt that we were getting more -expert, and determined to climb the Jacobshorn, a considerable hill -just opposite the Davos Hotel. We had to carry our unwieldy skis upon -our backs until we had passed the fir trees which line its slopes, but -once in the open we made splendid progress, and had the satisfaction of -seeing the flags in the village dipped in our honour when we reached -the summit. But it was only in returning that we got the full flavour -of ski-ing. In ascending you shuffle up by long zig-zags, the only -advantage of your footgear being that it is carrying you over snow -which would engulf you without it. But coming back you simply turn your -long toes and let yourself go, gliding delightfully over the gentle -slopes, flying down the steeper ones, taking an occasional cropper, but -getting as near to flying as any earth-bound man can. In that glorious -air it is a delightful experience. - -Encouraged by our success with the Jacobshorn, we determined to show -the utility of our accomplishment by opening up communications with -Arosa, which lies in a parallel valley and can only be reached in -winter by a very long and roundabout railway journey. To do this we had -to cross a high pass, and then drop down on the other side. It was a -most interesting journey, and we felt all the pride of pioneers as we -arrived in Arosa. - -I have no doubt that what we did would seem absurdly simple to -Norwegians or others who were apt at the game, but we had to find -things out for ourselves and it was sometimes rather terrifying. The -sun had not yet softened the snow on one sharp slope across which -we had to go, and we had to stamp with our skis in order to get any -foothold. On our left the snow slope ended in a chasm from which a -blue smoke or fog rose in the morning air. I hardly dared look in that -direction, but from the corner of my eye I saw the vapour of the abyss. -I stamped along and the two gallant Switzers got on my left, so that if -I slipped the shock would come upon them. We had no rope by which we -could link up. We got across all right and perhaps we exaggerated the -danger, but it was not a pleasant experience. - -Then I remember that we came to an absolute precipice, up which no -doubt the path zigzags in summer. It was not of course perpendicular, -but it seemed little removed from it, and it had just slope enough to -hold the snow. It looked impassable, but the Brangers had picked up -a lot in some way of their own. They took off their skis, fastened -them together with a thong, and on this toboggan they sat, pushing -themselves over the edge, and going down amid a tremendous spray of -flying snow. When they had reached safety they beckoned to me to -follow. I had done as they did, and was sitting on my skis preparatory -to launching myself when a fearsome thing happened, for my skis shot -from under me, flew down the slope, and vanished in huge bounds among -the snow mounds beyond. It was a nasty moment, and the poor Brangers -stood looking up at me some hundreds of feet below me in a dismal state -of mind. However, there was no possible choice as to what to do, so I -did it. I let myself go over the edge, and came squattering down, with -legs and arms extended to check the momentum. A minute later I was -rolling covered with snow at the feet of my guides, and my skis were -found some hundreds of yards away, so no harm was done after all. - -I remember that when we signed the hotel register Tobias Branger -filled up the space after my name, in which the new arrival had to -describe his profession, by the words “Sportes-mann,” which I took -as a compliment. It was at any rate more pleasant than the German -description of my golf clubs, which went astray on the railway and -turned up at last with the official description of “Kinderspieler” -(child’s toys) attached to them. To return to the skis they are no -doubt in very general use, but I think I am right in saying that these -and other excursions of ours first demonstrated their possibilities to -the people of the country and have certainly sent a good many thousands -of pounds since then into Switzerland. If my rather rambling career -in sport has been of any practical value to any one, it is probably -in this matter, and also, perhaps, in the opening up of miniature -rifle-ranges in 1901, when the idea was young in this country, and when -my Hindhead range was the pioneer and the model for many others. - -A pleasing souvenir of my work on Rifle Clubs is to be found in the -Conan Doyle Cup, which was presented by my friend Sir John Langman, and -is still shot for every year at Bisley by civilian teams. - -On the whole as I look back there is no regret in my mind for the time -that I have devoted to sport. It gives health and strength but above -all it gives a certain balance of mind without which a man is not -complete. To give and to take, to accept success modestly and defeat -bravely, to fight against odds, to stick to one’s point, to give credit -to your enemy and value your friend--these are some of the lessons -which true sport should impart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -TO THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS IN 1914 - - Baseball--Parkman--Ticonderoga--Prairie Towns--Procession of - Ceres--Relics of the Past--A Moose--Prospects for Emigrants--Jasper - Park--The Great Divide--Algonquin Park. - - -In 1914, with little perception of how near we were to the greatest -event of the world’s history, we accepted an invitation from the -Canadian Government to inspect the National Reserve at Jasper Park in -the Northern Rockies. The Grand Trunk Railway (Canadian) made matters -easy for us by generously undertaking to pass us over their system and -to place a private car at our disposal. This proved to be a gloriously -comfortable and compact little home, consisting of a parlour, a -dining-room and a bedroom. It belonged to Mr. Chamberlin, the president -of the line, who allowed us the use of it. Full of anticipation we -started off in May upon our long and pleasant journey. Our first point -was New York, where we hoped to put in a week of sight-seeing, since my -wife had never been to America. Then we were to go North and meet our -kind hosts of Canada. At the Plaza Hotel of New York we found ourselves -in pleasant quarters for a hectic week. Here are a few impressions. - -We went to see a baseball game at New York--a first-class match, as we -should say--or “some game,” as a native expert described it. I looked -on it all with the critical but sympathetic eyes of an experienced -though decrepit cricketer. The men were fine fellows, harder looking -than most of our professionals--indeed they train continually, and -some of the teams had even before the days of prohibition to practise -complete abstinence, which is said to show its good results not so -much in physical fitness as in the mental quickness which is very -essential in the game. The catching seemed to me extraordinarily good, -especially the judging of the long catches near the “bleachers,” as -the outfields which are far from any shade are called. The throwing -in is also remarkably hard and accurate, and, if applied to cricket, -would astonish some of our batsmen. The men earn anything from £1,000 -to £1,500 in the season. This money question is a weak point of the -game, as it is among our own Soccer clubs, since it means that the -largest purse has the best team, and there is no necessary relation -between the player and the place he plays for. Thus we looked upon -New York defeating the Philadelphia Athletics, but there was no more -reason to suppose that New York had actually produced one team than -that Philadelphia had produced the other. For this reason the smaller -matches, such as are played between local teams or colleges, seem to me -to be more exciting, as they do represent something definite. - -The pitcher is the man who commands the highest salary and has mastered -the hardest part of the game. His pace is remarkable, far faster, I -should say, than any bowling; but of course it is a throw, and as such -would not be possible in the cricket field. I had one uneasy moment -when I was asked in Canada to take the bat and open a baseball game. -The pitcher, fortunately, was merciful, and the ball came swift but -true. I steadied myself by trying to imagine that it was a bat which -I held in my grasp and that this was a full toss, which asked to be -hit over the ropes. Fortunately, I got it fairly in the middle and it -went on its appointed way, whizzing past the ear of a photographer, -who expected me to pat it. I should not care to have to duplicate the -performance--nor would the photographer. - -I took the opportunity when I was in New York to inspect the two famous -prisons, The Tombs and Sing Sing. The Tombs is in the very heart of -the city, and a gloomy, ill-boding place it is when seen from without. -Within it is equally dismal. I walked round in a somewhat shamefaced -way, for it makes you feel so when you encounter human suffering which -you cannot relieve. Warders and prisoners seemed however to be cheerful -enough, and there was an off-hand way of doing things which seemed -strange after our rigid methods. A Chinese prisoner, for example, -was standing at the bottom of the lift, and I heard the warder shout -through the tube, “Have you got room for another Chink in number -three?” I had a talk with one strange Englishman who was barred in like -a wild beast. He spoke of the various prisons, of which he had a wide -acquaintance, exactly as if they were hotels which he was recommending -or condemning. “Toronto is a very poor show. The food is bad. I hope -I may never see Toronto Gaol again. Detroit is better. I had quite -a pleasant time in Detroit.” And so on. He spoke and looked like a -gentleman, but I could quite imagine, in spite of his genial manner, -that he was a dangerous crook. When I left him he said: “Well, bye-bye! -Sorry you have to go! We can’t all be out and about, can we?” - -In the same week I went to Sing Sing, the State Penitentiary, which -is some twenty miles from the city on the banks of the Hudson. It is -an ancient building, dating from the middle of last century, and it -certainly should be condemned by a rich and prosperous community. By a -strange coincidence the convicts were having one of their few treats in -the year that day, and I was able to see them all assembled together in -the great hall, listening to a music-hall troupe from New York. Poor -devils, all the forced, vulgar gaiety of the songs and the antics of -half-clad women must have provoked a terrible reaction in their minds! -Many of them had, I observed, abnormalities of cranium or of features -which made it clear that they were not wholly responsible for their -actions. There was a good sprinkling of coloured men among them. Here -and there I noticed an intelligent and even a good face. One wondered -how they got there. - -I was locked up afterwards in one of the cells--seven feet by four--and -I was also placed in the electrocution chair, a very ordinary, stout, -cane-bottomed seat, with a good many sinister wires dangling round it. -I had a long talk with the Governor, who seemed in himself to be a -humane man, but terribly hampered by the awful building which he had to -administer. - -One morning of early June “my Lady Sunshine” and I--(if I may be -allowed to quote the charmingly appropriate name which the New York -Press had given to my wife) left New York for Parkman Land, which -I had long wished to explore. We were glad to get away as we had -been considerably harassed by the ubiquitous and energetic American -reporter. - -This individual is really, in nine cases out of ten, a very good -fellow, and if you will treat him with decent civility he will make -the best of you with the public. It is absurd for travellers to be -rude to him, as is too often the attitude of the wandering Briton. The -man is under orders from his paper, and if he returns without results -it is not a compliment upon his delicacy which will await him. He is -out to see you and describe you, and if he finds you an ill-tempered, -cantankerous curmudgeon, he very naturally says so and turns out some -excellent spicy reading at your expense. The indignant Briton imagines -that this is done in revenge. The reporter would not be human if it -did not amuse him to do it, but it very often represents the exact -impression which the vituperative traveller has made upon the pressman, -himself as often as not an overworked and highly-strung man. - -Reminiscences of interviews are occasionally amusing. I can remember -that on my previous visit I was approached one night by an interviewer -in a very marked state of intoxication. He was so drunk that I wondered -what in the world he would make of his subject, and I bought his paper -next day to see. To my amusement I found that I had made the worst -possible impression upon him. He had found no good in me at all. He may -even have attributed to me his own weakness, like the Scotch toper who -said: “Sandy drank that hard that by the end of the evening I couldn’t -see him.” - -To return to Parkman Land. I am surprised to find how few Americans -and fewer Canadians there are who appreciate that great historian at -his true worth. I wonder whether any man of letters has ever devoted -himself to a task with such whole-hearted devotion as Parkman. He knew -the old bloody frontier as Scott knew the border marches. He was soaked -in New England tradition. He prepared himself for writing about Indians -by living for months in their wigwams. He was intimate with old French -life, and he spent some time in a religious house that he might catch -something of the spirit which played so great a part in the early -history of Canada. On the top of all this he had the well-balanced, -unprejudiced mind of the great chronicler, and he cultivated a style -which was equally removed from insipidity and from affectation. As -to his industry and resolution, they are shown by the fact that he -completed his volumes after he had been stricken by blindness. It is -hard to name any historian who has such an equipment as this. From his -“Pioneers of the New World” to his “Conspiracy of Pontiac” I have read -his twelve volumes twice over, and put some small reflection of them -into my “Refugees.” - -We explored not only the beautiful, tragic Lake George, but also -its great neighbour Lake Champlain, almost as full of historical -reminiscence. Upon this, level with the head of the smaller lake, -stood Ticonderoga, the chief seat of the French Canadian power. Some -five miles separate it from Lake George, up which the British came -buzzing whenever they were strong enough to do so. Once in front of -the palisades of Ticonderoga, they met with heavy defeat, and yet once -again, by the valour of the newly-enrolled Black Watch, they swept the -place off the map. I wonder if Stevenson had actually been there before -he wrote his eerie haunting ballad--the second finest of the sort, in -my opinion, in our literature. It is more than likely, since he spent -some time in the neighbouring Adirondacks. Pious hands were restoring -the old fort of Ticonderoga, much of which has been uncovered. All day -we skirted Lake Champlain, into which the old French explorer first -found his way, and where he made the dreadful mistake of mixing in -Indian warfare, which brought the whole bloodthirsty vendetta of the -five nations upon the young French settlements. Up at the head of the -lake we saw Plattsburg, where the Americans gained a victory in the war -of 1812. The sight of these battle-fields, whether they mark British -or American successes, always fills me with horror. If the war of -1776 was, as I hold, a glorious mistake, that of 1812 was a senseless -blunder. Had neither occurred, the whole of North America would now -be one magnificent undivided country, pursuing its own independent -destiny, and yet united in such unblemished ties of blood and memory to -the old country that each could lean at all times upon the other. It is -best for Britishers, no doubt, that we should never lean upon anything -bigger than ourselves. But I see no glory in these struggles, and -little wisdom in the statesmen who waged them. Among them they split -the race from base to summit, and who has been the gainer? Not Britain, -who was alienated from so many of her very best children. Not America, -who lost Canada and had on her hands a civil war which a United Empire -could have avoided. Ah well, there is a controlling force somewhere, -and the highest wisdom is to believe that all things are ordered for -the best. - -About evening we crossed the Canadian frontier, the Richelieu River, -down which the old Iroquois scalping parties used to creep, gleaming -coldly in the twilight. There is nothing to show where you have crossed -that border. There is the same sort of country, the same cultivation, -the same plain wooden houses. Nothing was changed save that suddenly I -saw a little old ensign flying on a gable, and it gives you a thrill -when you have not seen it for a time. - -It is not until one has reached the Prairie country that the traveller -meets with new conditions and new problems. He traverses Ontario -with its prosperous mixed farms and its fruit-growing villages, but -the general effect is the same as in Eastern America. Then comes the -enormous stretch of the Great Lakes, those wonderful inland seas, with -great ocean-going steamers. We saw the newly built _Noronic_, destined -altogether for passenger traffic, and worthy to compare, both in -internal fittings and outward appearance, with many an Atlantic liner. -The Indians looked in amazement at La Salle’s little vessel. I wondered -what La Salle and his men would think of the _Noronic_! For two days -in great comfort we voyaged over the inland waters. They lay peaceful -for our passage, but we heard grim stories of winter gusts and of ships -which were never heard of more. It is not surprising that there should -be accidents, for the number of vessels is extraordinary, and being -constructed with the one idea of carrying the maximum of cargo, they -appeared to be not very stable. I am speaking now of the whale-back -freight carriers and not of the fine passenger service, which could not -be beaten. - -I have said that the number of vessels is extraordinary. I have been -told that the tonnage passing through Sault Ste. Marie, where the lakes -join, is greater than that of any port in the world. All the supplies -and manufactures for the West move one way, while the corn of the -great prairie, and the ores from the Lake Superior copper and iron -mines move the other. In the Fall there comes the triumphant procession -of the harvest. Surely in more poetic days banners might have waved -and cymbals clashed, and priests of Ceres sung their hymns in the -vanguard, as this flotilla of mercy moved majestically over the face -of the waters to the aid of hungry Europe. However, we have cut out -the frills, to use the vernacular, though life would be none the worse -could we tinge it a little with the iridescence of romance. - -We stopped at Sault Ste. Marie, the neck of the hour-glass between the -two great lakes of Huron and Superior. There were several things there -which are worthy of record. The lakes are of a different level, and -the lock which avoids the dangerous rapids is on an enormous scale; -but, beside it, unnoticed save by those who know where to look and what -to look for, there is a little stone-lined cutting no larger than an -uncovered drain--it is the detour by which for centuries the voyageurs, -trappers, and explorers moved their canoes round the Sault or fall on -their journey to the great solitudes beyond. Close by it is one of -the old Hudson Bay log forts, with its fireproof roof, its loop-holed -walls, and every other device for Indian fighting. Very small and mean -these things look by the side of the great locks and the huge steamers -within them. But where would locks and steamers have been had these -others not taken their lives in their hands to clear the way? - -The twin cities of Fort William and Port Arthur, at the head of Lake -Superior, form the most growing community of Canada. They call them -twin cities, but I expect, like their Siamese predecessors, they will -grow into one. Already the suburbs join each other, though proximity -does not always lead to amalgamation or even to cordiality, as in -the adjacent towns of St. Paul and Minneapolis. When the little -American boy was asked in Sunday school who persecuted Saint Paul, -he “guessed it was Minneapolis.” But in the case of Fort William and -Port Arthur they are so evidently interdependent that it is difficult -to believe that they will fail to coalesce; when they do, I am of -opinion that they may grow to be a Canadian Chicago, and possibly -become the greatest city in the country. All lines converge there, -as does all the lake traffic, and everything from East to West must -pass through it. If I were a rich man and wished to become richer, -I should assuredly buy land in the twin cities. Though they lie in -the very centre of the broadest portion of the continent, the water -communications are so wonderful that an ocean-going steamer from -Liverpool or Glasgow can now unload at their quays. - -The grain elevators of Fort William are really majestic erections, and -with a little change of their construction might be æsthetic as well. -Even now the huge cylinders into which they are divided look at a -little distance not unlike the columns of Luxor. This branch of human -ingenuity has been pushed at Fort William to its extreme. The last word -has been said there upon every question covering the handling of grain. -By some process, which is far beyond my unmechanical brain, the stuff -is even divided automatically according to its quality, and there are -special hospital elevators where damaged grain can be worked up into a -more perfect article. - -By the way, it was here, while lying at a steamship wharf on the very -edge of the city, that I first made the acquaintance of one of the -original inhabitants of Canada. A cleared plain stretched from the ship -to a wood some hundreds of yards off. As I stood upon deck I saw what -I imagined to be a horse wander out of the wood and begin to graze in -the clearing. The creature seemed ewe-necked beyond all possibility, -and looking closer I saw to my surprise that it was a wild hornless -moose. Could anything be more characteristic of the present condition -of Canada--the great mechanical developments of Fort William within -gunshot of me on one side, and this shy wanderer of the wilderness on -the other? In a few years the dweller in the great city will read of -my experience with the same mixture of incredulity and surprise with -which we read the occasional correspondent’s whose grandfather shot a -woodcock in Maida Vale. - -The true division between the East and West of Canada is not the Great -Lakes, which are so valuable as a waterway, but lies in the 500 miles -of country between the Lakes and Winnipeg. It is barren, but beautiful, -covered with forest which is not large enough to be of value as lumber. -It is a country of rolling plains covered with low trees with rivers -in the valleys. The soil is poor. It is really a problem what to do -with this belt, which is small according to Canadian distance, but is -none the less broader than the distance between London and Edinburgh. -Unless minerals are found in it, I should think that it will be to -Canada what the Highlands of Scotland are to Britain--a region set -apart for sport because it has no other economic use. The singular -thing about this barren tree-land is that it quite suddenly changes to -the fertile prairie at a point to the east of Winnipeg. I presume that -there is some geological reason, but it was strange to see the fertile -plain run up to the barren woods with as clear a division as there is -between the sea and the shore. - -And now one reaches the west of Winnipeg and that prairie which -means so much both to Canada and to the world. It was wonderfully -impressive to travel swiftly all day from the early summer dawn to the -latest evening light, and to see always the same little clusters of -houses, always the same distant farms, always the same huge expanse -stretching to the distant skyline, mottled with cattle, or green with -the half-grown crops. You think these people are lonely. What about -the people beyond them and beyond them again, each family in its rude -barracks in the midst of the 160 acres which form the minimum farm? -No doubt they are lonely, and yet there are alleviations. When men -or women are working on their own property and seeing their fortune -growing, they have pleasant thoughts to bear them company. It is the -women, I am told, who feel it most, and who go prairie-mad. Now they -have rigged telephone circles which connect up small groups of farms -and enable the women to relieve their lives by a little friendly -gossip, when the whole district thrills to the news that Mrs. Jones -has been in the cars to Winnipeg and bought a new bonnet. At the worst -the loneliness of the prairie can never, one would think, have the -soul-killing effect of loneliness in a town. “There is always the wind -on the heath, brother.” Besides, the wireless has now arrived, and that -is the best friend of the lonely man. - -Land is not so easily picked up by the emigrant as in the old days, -when 160 acres beside the railroad were given away free. There was -still in 1914 free land to be had, but it was in the back country. -However, this back country of to-day is always liable to be opened -up by the branch railway lines to-morrow. On the whole, however, it -seems to be more economical, if the emigrant has the money, to buy -a partially developed well-situated farm than to take up a virgin -homestead. That is what the American emigrants do who have been pouring -into the country, and they know best the value of such farms, having -usually come from exactly similar ones just across the border, the only -difference being that they can get ten acres in Canada for the price -of one in Minnesota or Iowa. They hasten to take out their papers of -naturalization, and make, it is said, most excellent and contented -citizens. Their energy and industry are remarkable. A body of them had -reached the land which they proposed to buy about the time that we were -in the West; they had come over the border with their wagons, their -horses, and their ploughs. Being taken to the spot by the land agent, -the leader of the party tested the soil, cast a rapid glance over the -general prairie, and then cried: “I guess this will do, boys. Get off -the ploughs.” The agent who was present told me that they had broken -an acre of the prairie before they slept that night. These men were -German Lutherans from Minnesota, and they settled in the neighbourhood -of Scott. The gains on the farms are very considerable. It is not -unusual for a man to pay every expense which he has incurred, including -the price of the land, within the first two years. After that, with -decent luck, he should be a prosperous man, able to bring up a family -in ease and comfort. If he be British, and desires to return to the -Old Country, it should not be difficult for him to save enough in -ten or twelve years to make himself, after selling his farm, more or -less independent for life. That is, as it seems to me, an important -consideration for many people who hesitate to break all the old ties -and feel that they are leaving their motherland for ever. - -So much about farms and farming. I cannot see how one can write about -this western part and avoid the subject which is written in green and -gold from sky to sky. There is nothing else. Nowhere is there any sign -of yesterday--not a cairn, not a monument. Life has passed here, but -has left no footstep behind. But stay, the one thing which the old -life still leaves is just this one thing--footsteps. Look at them in -the little narrow black paths which converge to the water--little dark -ruts which wind and twist. Those are the buffalo runs of old. Gone -are the Cree and Blackfoot hunters who shot them down. Gone, too, the -fur-traders who bought the skins. Chief Factor MacTavish, who entered -into the great Company’s service as a boy, spent his life in slow -promotion from Fort This to Fort That, and made a decent Presbyterian -woman of some Indian squaw, finally saw with horror in his old age that -the world was crowding his wild beasts out of their pastures. Gone -are the great herds upon which both Indian hunter and fur-trader were -parasitical. Indian, trader and buffalo all have passed, and here on -the great plains are these narrow runways as the last remaining sign of -a vanished world. - -Edmonton is the capital of the western side of the prairie, even as -Winnipeg is of the eastern. I do not suppose the average Briton has the -least conception of the amenities of Winnipeg. He would probably be -surprised to hear that the Fort Garry Hotel there is nearly as modern -and luxurious as any hotel in Northumberland Avenue. There were no such -luxuries in 1914 in Edmonton. The town was in a strangely half-formed -condition, rude and raw, but with a great atmosphere of energy, bustle, -and future greatness. With its railway connections and waterways it is -bound to be a large city. At the time of our visit the streets were -full of out-of-works, great husky men, some of them of magnificent -physique, who found themselves at a loss, on account of cessations in -railroad construction. They told me that they would soon be reabsorbed, -but meantime the situation was the rudest object-lesson in economics -that I have ever witnessed. Here were these splendid men, ready and -willing to work. Here was a new country calling in every direction for -labour. How come the two things to be even temporarily disconnected? -There could be but one word. It was want of capital. And why was the -capital wanting? Why was the work of the railroads held up? Because the -money market was tight in London--London which finds, according to the -most recent figures, 73 per cent of all the moneys with which Canada is -developed. Such was the state of things. What will amend it? How can -capital be made to flow into the best channels? By encouragement and -security and the hope of good returns. I never heard of any system of -socialism which did not seem to defeat the very object which it had at -heart. And yet it was surely deplorable that the men should be there, -and that the work should be there, and that none could command the link -which would unite them. - -A line of low distant hills broke the interminable plain which has -extended with hardly a rising for 1,500 miles. Above them was, here and -there, a peak of snow. Shades of Mayne Reid, they were the Rockies--my -old familiar Rockies! Have I been here before? What an absurd question, -when I lived here for about ten years of my life in all the hours of -dreamland. What deeds have I not done among Redskins and trappers and -grizzlies within their wilds! And here they were at last glimmering -bright in the rising morning sun. At least, I have seen my dream -mountains. Most boys never do. - -Jasper Park is one of the great national playgrounds and health resorts -which the Canadian Government with great wisdom has laid out for the -benefit of the citizens. When Canada has filled up and carries a large -population, she will bless the foresight of the administrators who -took possession of broad tracts of the most picturesque land and put -them for ever out of the power of the speculative dealer. The National -Park at Banff has for twenty years been a Mecca for tourists. That at -Algonquin gives a great pleasure-ground to those who cannot extend -their travels beyond Eastern Canada. But this new Jasper Park is the -latest and the wildest of all these reserves. Some years ago it was -absolute wilderness, and much of it impenetrable. Now, through the -energy of Colonel Rogers, trails have been cut through it in various -directions, and a great number of adventurous trips into country which -is practically unknown can be carried out with ease and comfort. The -packer plays the part of a dragoman in the East, arranging the whole -expedition, food, cooking, and everything else on inclusive terms; and -once in the hands of a first-class Rocky Mountain packer, a man of -the standing of Fred Stephens or the Otto Brothers, the traveller can -rely upon a square deal and the companionship of one whom he will find -to be a most excellent comrade. There is no shooting in the park--it is -a preserve for all wild animals--but there is excellent fishing, and -everywhere there are the most wonderful excursions, where you sleep at -night under the stars upon the balsamic fir branches which the packer -gathers for your couch. I could not imagine an experience which would -be more likely to give a freshet of vitality when the stream runs thin. -For a week we lived the life of simplicity and nature. - -[Illustration: THE FAMILY IN THE WILDS OF CANADA.] - -The park is not as full of wild creatures as it will be after a few -years of preservation. The Indians who lived in this part rounded up -everything that they could before moving to their reservation. But even -now, the bear lumbers through the brushwood, the eagle soars above the -lake, the timber wolf still skulks in the night, and the deer graze in -the valleys. Above, near the snow-line, the wild goat is not uncommon, -while at a lower altitude are found the mountain sheep. On the last -day of our visit the rare cinnamon bear exposed his yellow coat upon a -clearing within a few hundred yards of the village. I saw his clumsy -good-humoured head looking at me from over a dead trunk, and I thanked -the kindly Canadian law which has given him a place of sanctuary. -What a bloodthirsty baboon man must appear to the lower animals! If -any superhuman demon treated us exactly as we treat the pheasants, we -should begin to reconsider our views as to what is sport. - -The porcupine is another creature which abounded in the woods. I did -not see any, but a friend described an encounter between one and his -dog. The creature’s quills are detachable when he wishes to be nasty, -and at the end of the fight it was not easy to say which was the dog -and which the porcupine. - -Life in Jasper interested me as an experience of the first stage -of a raw Canadian town. It will certainly grow into a considerable -place, but at that time, bar Colonel Rogers’ house and the station, -there were only log-huts and small wooden dwellings. Christianity was -apostolic in its simplicity and in its freedom from strife--though -one has to go back remarkably early in apostolic times to find those -characteristics. Two churches were being built, the pastor in each -case acting also as head mason and carpenter. One, the corner-stone of -which I had the honour of laying, was to be used in turn by several -Nonconformist bodies. To the ceremony came the Anglican parson, grimy -from his labours on the opposition building, and prayed for the -well-being of his rival. The whole function, with its simplicity and -earnestness, carried out by a group of ill-clad men standing bareheaded -in a drizzle of rain, seemed to me to have in it the essence of -religion. As I ventured to remark to them, Kikuyu and Jasper can give -some lessons to London. - -We made a day’s excursion by rail to the Tête Jaune Cache, which is -across the British Columbian border and marks the watershed between -East and West. Here we saw the Fraser, already a formidable river, -rushing down to the Pacific. At the head of the pass stands the village -of the railway workers, exactly like one of the mining townships of -Bret Harte, save that the bad man is never allowed to be too bad. There -is a worse man in a red serge coat and a Stetson hat, who is told off -by the State to look after him, and does his duty in such fashion that -the most fire-eating desperado from across the border falls into the -line of law. But apart from the gunman, this village presented exactly -the same queer cabins, strange signs, and gambling rooms which the -great American master has made so familiar to us. - -And now we were homeward bound! Back through Edmonton, back through -Winnipeg, back through that young giant, Fort William--but not back -across the Great Lakes. Instead of that transit we took train, by the -courtesy of the Canadian Pacific, round the northern shore of Superior, -a beautiful wooded desolate country, which, without minerals, offers -little prospect for the future. Some 200 miles north of it, the Grand -Trunk, that enterprising pioneer of empire, has opened up another line -which extends for a thousand miles, and should develop a new corn and -lumber district. Canada is like an expanding flower; wherever you look -you see some fresh petal unrolling. - -We spent three days at Algonquin Park. This place is within easy -distance of Montreal or Ottawa, and should become a resort of British -fishermen and lovers of nature. After all, it is little more than a -week from London, and many a river in Finland takes nearly as long -to reach. There is good hotel accommodation, and out of the thousand -odd lakes in this enormous natural preserve one can find all sorts -of fishing, though the best is naturally the most remote. I had no -particular luck myself, but my wife caught an eight-pound trout, which -Mr. Bartlett, the courteous superintendent of the park, mounted, so -as to confound all doubters. Deer abound in the park, and the black -bear is not uncommon, while wolves can often be heard howling in the -night-time. - -What will be the destiny of Canada? Some people talk as if it were -in doubt. Personally, I have none upon the point. Canada will remain -exactly as she is for two more generations. At the end of that time -there must be reconsideration of the subject, especially on the part of -Great Britain, who will find herself with a child as large as herself -under the same roof. - -I see no argument for the union of Canada with the United States. There -is excellent feeling between the two countries, but they could no more -join at this period of their history than a great oak could combine -with a well-rooted pine to make one tree. The roots of each are far too -deep. It is impossible. - -Then there is the alternative of Canada becoming an independent nation. -That is not so impossible as a union with the States, but it is in the -last degree improbable. Why should Canada wish her independence? She -has it now in every essential. But her first need is the capital and -the population which will develop her enormous territory and resources. -This capital she now receives from the Mother-Country to the extent in -1914 of 73 per cent, the United States finding 14 per cent, and Canada -herself the remaining 13. Her dependence upon the Mother-Country for -emigrants, though not so great as her financial dependence, is still -the greatest from any single source. Besides all this, she has the -vast insurance policy, which is called the British Navy, presented to -her for nothing--though honour demands some premium from her in the -future--and she has the British diplomatic service for her use unpaid. -Altogether, looking at it from the material side, Canada’s interests -lie deeply in the present arrangement. But there is a higher and more -unselfish view which works even more strongly in the same direction. -Many of the most representative Canadians are descendants of those -United Empire Loyalists who in 1782 gave up everything and emigrated -from the United States in order to remain under the flag. Their -imperialism is as warm or warmer than our own. And everywhere there is -a consciousness of the glory of the empire, its magnificent future, and -the wonderful possibilities of these great nations all growing up under -the same flag with the same language and destinies. This sentiment -joins with material advantages, and will prevent Canada from having any -aspiration towards independence. - -Yes, it will remain exactly as it is for the remainder of this century. -At the end of that time her population and resources will probably -considerably exceed those of the Mother Land, and problems will arise -which our children’s children may have some difficulty in solving. As -to the French-Canadian, he will always be a conservative force--let -him call himself what he will. His occasional weakness for flying -the French flag is not to be resented, but is rather a pathetic and -sentimental tribute to a lost cause, like that which adorns every year -the pedestal of Charles at Whitehall. - -I had some presentiment of coming trouble during the time we were in -Canada, though I never imagined that we were so close to the edge of -a world-war. One incident which struck me forcibly was the arrival -at Vancouver of a ship full of Sikhs who demanded to be admitted to -Canada. This demand was resisted on account of the immigration laws. -The whole incident seemed to me to be so grotesque--for why should -sun-loving Hindoos force themselves upon Canada--that I was convinced -some larger purpose lay behind it. That purpose was, as we can now see, -to promote discord among the races under the British flag. There can be -no doubt that it was German money that chartered that ship. - -I had several opportunities of addressing large and influential -Canadian audiences, and I never failed to insist upon the sound state -of the home population. The Canadians judge us too often by our -ne’er-do-weels and remittance men, who are the sample Englishmen -who come before them. In defence even of these samples it should be -stated that they bulked very large in the first Canadian Division. I -told the Canadians of our magnificent Boy Scout movement, and also -of the movement of old soldiers to form a national guard. “A country -where both the old and the young can start new, unselfish, patriotic -movements is a live country,” I said, “and if we are tested we will -prove just as good as ever our fathers were.” I did not dream how near -the test would be, how hard it would press, or how gloriously it would -be met. - -And now I turn to the war, the physical climax of my life as it must -be of the life of every living man and woman. Each was caught as a -separate chip and swept into that fearsome whirlpool, where we all -gyrated for four years, some sinking for ever, some washed up all -twisted and bent, and all of us showing in our souls and bodies some -mark of the terrible forces which had controlled us so long. I will -show presently how the war reacted upon me, and also, if one may speak -without presumption, how in a minute way I in turn reacted upon the -war. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE EVE OF WAR - - The Prologue of Armageddon--The “Prince Henry” - Race--Bernhardi--“England and the Next War”--“Danger”--General - Sir H. Wilson--The Channel Tunnel--Naval Defects--Rubber - Collars--Mines--Willie Redmond. - - -For a long time I never seriously believed in the German menace. -Frequently I found myself alone, in a company of educated Englishmen, -in my opinion that it was non-existent--or at worst greatly -exaggerated. This conclusion was formed on two grounds. The first was, -that I knew it to be impossible that we could attack Germany save in -the face of monstrous provocation. By the conditions of our government, -even if those in high places desired to do such a thing, it was utterly -impracticable, for a foreign war could not be successfully carried -on by Great Britain unless the overwhelming majority of the people -approved of it. Our foreign, like our home, politics are governed -by the vote of the proletariat. It would be impossible to wage an -aggressive war against any Power if the public were not convinced of -its justice and necessity. For this reason we could not attack Germany. -On the other hand, it seemed to be equally unthinkable that Germany -should attack us. One failed to see what she could possibly hope to -gain by such a proceeding. She had enemies already upon her eastern and -western frontiers, and it was surely unlikely that she would go out -of her way to pick a quarrel with the powerful British Empire. If she -made war and lost it, her commerce would be set back and her rising -colonial empire destroyed. If she won it, it was difficult to see where -she could hope for the spoils. We could not give her greater facilities -for trade than she had already. We could not give her habitable white -colonies, for she would find it impossible to take possession of them -in the face of the opposition of the inhabitants. An indemnity she -could never force from us. Some coaling stations and possibly some -tropical colonies, of which latter she already possessed abundance, -were the most that she could hope for. Would such a prize as that be -worth the risk attending such a war? To me it seemed that there could -be only one answer to such a question. - -I am still of the same opinion. But unhappily the affairs of nations -are not always regulated by reason, and occasionally a country may -be afflicted by a madness which sets all calculations at defiance. -Then, again, I had looked upon the matter too much as between Great -Britain and Germany. I had not sufficiently considered the chance of -our being drawn in against our will in order to safeguard Belgium, -or in order to stop the annihilation of France. It was so perfectly -clear that Britain by her treaty obligations, and by all that is human -and honourable, would fight if Belgium were invaded, that one could -not conceive Germany taking such a step with any other expectation. -And yet what we could not conceive is exactly what happened, for it -is clear that the delusions as to our degeneration in character had -really persuaded the Germans that the big cowardly fellow would stand -by with folded arms and see his little friend knocked about by the -bully. The whole idea showed an extraordinary ignorance of the British -psychology, but absurd as it was, it was none the less the determining -influence at the critical moment of the world’s history. The influence -of the lie is one of the strangest problems of life--that which is not -continually influences that which is. Within one generation imagination -and misrepresentation have destroyed the Boer republics and Imperial -Germany. - -One of my most remarkable pre-war experiences, which influenced my -mind deeply, was my participation in the amateur motor race called -the Prince Henry Competition. It was rather a reliability test than -a race, for the car had to go some 150 miles a day on an average at -its own pace, but marks were taken off for all involuntary stoppages, -breakdowns, accidents, etc. Each owner had to drive his own car, and -I had entered my little sixteen horse-power landaulette. There were -about forty British cars and fifty German, so that the procession was a -very considerable one. Starting from Homburg, the watering-place, our -route ran through North Germany, then by steamer to Southampton, up to -Edinburgh and back to London by devious ways. - -The competition had been planned in Germany, and there can be no doubt -in looking back that a political purpose underlay it. The idea was to -create a false entente by means of sport, which would react upon the -very serious political development in the wind, namely, the occupation -of Agadir on the south-west coast of Morocco, which occurred on our -second day out. As Prince Henry, who organized and took part in the -competition, was also head of the German Navy, it is of course obvious -that he knew that the _Panther_ was going to Agadir, and that there was -a direct connection between the two events, in each of which he was a -leading actor. It was a clumsy bit of stage management and could not -possibly have been effective. - -The peculiarity of the tour was that each car had an officer of the -army or navy of the other nation as a passenger, to check the marks. -Thus my wife and I had the enforced company for nearly three weeks of -Count Carmer, Rittmeister of Breslau Cuirassiers, who began by being -stiff and inhuman, but speedily thawed and became a very good fellow. -The arrangements were very peculiar. Some British paper--the “Mail” if -I remember right--had stated that the Competition was really a device -to pass a number of German officers through Great Britain in order to -spy out the land. I think there may have been some truth in this, as -our good Count when we reached London went off to a hotel down in the -East End, which seemed a curious thing for a wealthy Junker to do. -This criticism seems to have annoyed the Kaiser, and he said--or so it -was reported--that none but junior officers should go as observers. -I should think that ours was the senior of the lot, and the others -were mostly captains and lieutenants. On the other hand, the British -Government, out of compliment to Prince Henry, had appointed the very -best men available as observers. If there had been a sudden crisis over -Agadir, and Germany had impounded us all, it would have been a national -disaster and would have made a difference in a European war. Speaking -from an imperfect memory, I can recall that we had General Grierson, -Charles Munro, Rawlinson, I think, Captain--now General--Swinton of -Tanks fame, Delme Ratcliffe, Colonel--now General--Holman, Major--now -General--Thwaites, and many other notables both of the Army and Navy. - -From the first relations were strained. There was natural annoyance -when these senior officers found that their opposite numbers were -youngsters of no experience. Then, again, at Cologne and Munster I -understand that the German military did not show the proper courtesies, -and certainly the hospitality which the whole party received until we -reached England was negligible. The Germans themselves must have felt -ashamed of the difference. Personally the competitors were not a bad -set of fellows, though there were some bounders among them. We were not -all above criticism ourselves. - -Of the Competition itself little need be said, as I have treated the -sporting side of it elsewhere. Some of the Germans seemed to me to be -a little mad, for they seemed consumed by the idea that it was a race, -whereas it mattered nothing who was at the head of the procession -or who at the tail, so long as you did the allotted distance in the -allotted time. I saw a German bound into his car after some stoppage: -“How many ahead? Three Englishmen! Forwards! Forwards!” he cried. They -barged into each other, dashed furiously round corners, and altogether -behaved in a wild fashion, while our sedate old fellows pursued their -course in a humdrum fashion and saved their marks. There were, however, -some good fellows among the Germans. I have not forgotten how one of -them, anonymously, used to place flowers in my wife’s corner every -morning. - -But as an attempt at an entente it was a great failure. The British -officer who was compelled to spend weeks with a carload of Germans -was not expansive and refused to be digested. Some of the Germans, -too, became disagreeable. I saw a large German car--they were all Benz -and Mercédès, generally 70-80 horse-power--edge a little British car -right off the road on to the grass track beside it. The driver of the -British car was a pretty useful middle-weight boxer, but he kept his -temper or there might have been trouble. There was very little love -lost on either side, though I, as one of the few German-speaking -competitors, did my very best to bring about a more cordial atmosphere. -But war was in the air. Both sides spoke of it. Several of the British -officers were either of the Intelligence branch, or had special German -experience, and they were unanimous about it. My attempts towards peace -were rejected. “The only thing I want to do with these people is to -fight them,” said Colonel Holman. “Same here,” said the officer with -him. It was a deep antagonism on either side. They were not only sure -of the war, but of the date. “It will be on the first pretext after the -Kiel Canal is widened.” The Kiel Canal was finished in June, 1914, and -war came in August, so that they were not far wrong. There was some -little German chaff on the subject. “Wouldn’t you like one of these -little islands?” I heard a German say as we steamed out past Heligoland -and the Frisian Belt. - -It was this experience which first made me take the threat of war -seriously, but I could have persuaded myself that I was misled, had it -not been that I read soon afterwards Bernhardi’s book “Germany and the -Next War.” I studied it carefully and I put my impression of it into -print in an article called “England and the Next War,” which appeared -in the “Fortnightly Review” in the summer of 1913. It lies before me -now, as I write, and it is interesting to see how, as I projected my -mind and my imagination over the possibilities of the future, I read -much aright and some little wrong. - -I began by epitomizing Bernhardi’s whole argument, and showing that, -however we might disagree with it, we were bound to take it seriously, -since he was undoubtedly a leader of a certain class of thought in his -own country--that very military class which was now predominant. I -demurred at his assumption that the German Army in equal numbers must -overcome the French. “It is possible,” I remarked, “that even so high -an authority as General Bernhardi has not entirely appreciated how -Germany has been the teacher of the world in military matters and how -thoroughly her pupils have responded to that teaching. That attention -to detail, perfection of arrangement for mobilization, and careful -preparation which have won German victories in the past may now be -turned against her, and she may find that others can equal her in her -own virtues.” I then examined Bernhardi’s alleged grievances against -Great Britain, and showed how baseless they were, and how little -they could hope to gain by victory. I quoted one poisonous sentence: -“Even English attempts at a _rapprochement_ must not blind us to the -real situation. We may at most use them to delay the necessary and -inevitable war until we may fairly imagine that we have some prospect -of success.” “This last sentence,” I remarked, “must come home to some -of us who have worked in the past for a better feeling between the two -countries.” - -I then gave an epitome of Bernhardi’s plan of campaign as outlined in -charming frankness in his volume, and I sketched out how far we were -in a position to meet it and what were the joints in our armour. My -general conclusions may be given as follows:-- - -1. That invasion was not a serious danger and that the thought of it -should not deflect our plans. - -2. That if invasion becomes impossible then any force like the -Territorials unless it is prepared to go abroad becomes useless. - -3. That we should not have conscription save as a very last resource, -since it is against the traditions of our people. - -4. That our real danger lay in the submarine and in the airship, which -could not be affected by blockade. - -In discussing the submarine I said: “What exact effect a swarm of -submarines, lying off the mouth of the Channel and the Irish Sea, would -produce upon the victualling of these islands is a problem which is -beyond my conjecture. Other ships besides the British would be likely -to be destroyed, and international complications would probably follow. -I cannot imagine that such a fleet would entirely, or even to a very -large extent, cut off our supplies. But it is certain that they would -have the effect of considerably raising the price of whatever did reach -us. Therefore, we should suffer privation, though not necessarily -such privation as would compel us to make terms. From the beginning -of the war every home source would naturally be encouraged, and it is -possible that before our external supplies were seriously decreased, -our internal ones might be well on the way to make up the deficiency.” - -This did, I think, roughly outline the actual course of events. - -5. That the submarines would affect military operations should we send -a force to France or Belgium. - -6. That therefore the Channel Tunnel was a vital necessity. - -7. That all unnecessary expenses should be at once cut down, so that -British credit should stand at its highest when the strain came. - -These are only the general conclusions. The article attracted some -attention, but I do not suppose that it had any actual influence upon -the course of events. To reinforce it I wrote an imaginary episode -called “Danger” in the “Strand Magazine,” to show how even a small -Power might possibly bring us to our knees by the submarine. It was -singularly prophetic, for not only did it outline the actual situation -as it finally developed, but it contained many details, the zig-zagging -of the merchant ships, the use of submarine guns, the lying for the -night on sandy bottoms, and so forth--exactly as they occurred. The -article was sent round in proof to a number of high naval officers, -mostly retired, for their opinions. I am afraid that the printed -results, which I will not be so cruel as to quote, showed that it -was as well they _were_ retired, since they had no sense of the -possibilities of the naval warfare of the future. - -One result of my “Fortnightly” article was that General Henry Wilson, -late Chief of the Staff College as he then was, desired to see me -to cross-question me, and a meeting was arranged at the house of -Colonel Sackville-West, Major Swinton being also present. There, after -luncheon, General Wilson machine-gunned me with questions for about an -hour. He was fierce and explosive in his manner, and looked upon me, no -doubt, as one of those pestilential laymen who insist upon talking of -things they don’t understand. As I could give reasons for my beliefs, I -refused to be squashed, and when the interview was over I went straight -down to the Athenæum Club and wrote it all down from memory. It makes -such curious reading that I give it exactly as I reported it that day, -in dialogue, with one or two comments from Colonel Sackville-West. -After saying with some asperity that I had made many statements -which I could not substantiate, and so might give the public far too -optimistic a view of the position, he said: “Why do you say that we -would never pay an indemnity to Germany?” - -A. C. D. It is a matter of individual opinion. I go upon history and -upon the spirit of our people. - -GEN. W. Had not France equal spirit in 1870? How is it that they paid -an indemnity? - -A. C. D. Because Germany was sitting on top of them, and she had to pay -to get from under. - -GEN. W. Why may she not sit on top of us? - -A. C. D. Because we live on an island and she cannot occupy us in the -same way. - -COLONEL S.-W. I believe a little pressure on London would cause us to -pay an indemnity. - -A. C. D. The man who suggested it would get hanged. - -COLONEL S.-W. They would hang the man who made the war. - -A. C. D. No, they would back him but hang the traitor. - -GEN. W. You say that they would gain nothing by war. What about the -carrying trade of the world? - -A. C. D. The carrying trade depends on economic questions and upon -geographical situation. For example, the Norwegians, who have no fleet, -are one of the principal carriers. - -GEN. W. At least they could starve us out if they held the seas. - -A. C. D. Well, that is where my tunnel would come in; but of course I -am entirely with you as to the need of holding the seas. - -GEN. W. Well, now, you admit that we must go to the help of France? - -A. C. D. Certainly. - -GEN. W. But what can six divisions do? - -A. C. D. Well, my point is that six divisions with a tunnel are better -than six divisions without a tunnel. - -COLONEL S.-W. If we have a tunnel we must have a force worth sending to -send through it. - -A. C. D. If you are going to couple the tunnel with compulsory service, -you will get neither one nor the other. - -GEN. W. I think, so far as submarines go, that the British patrols -would make it a very desperate service. Some desperate man might get -his boat through. - -A. C. D. Some desperate man might command a flotilla and get it through. - -GEN. W. Many things seem possible theoretically which cannot be done -in practice, but no doubt there is a danger there. In your view the -Territorials are simply a support for the fighting Army? - -A. C. D. Yes. - -GEN. W. But they are too untrained to go into action. - -A. C. D. They would be reserves and have time to train. - -GEN. W. Your idea of troops coming back in case of a raid through the -tunnel is impossible. You could not withdraw troops in that way from -their positions. - -A. C. D. Well, with all respect, I do not believe either in a raid or -in an invasion. - -GEN. W. A war with Germany would be short and sharp--seven months would -see it finished. - -A. C. D. You mean, no doubt, the continental part. I could imagine the -naval part lasting ten years. - -COLONEL S.-W. If your fleet was crushed, you would have to give in. - -A. C. D. A fleet can never be annihilated as an army is. There always -remain scattered forces which can go on fighting. I don’t think we need -give in because the fleet is crushed. - -GEN. W. You don’t suppose that the Englishman is a better soldier by -nature than the Frenchman or the German? - -A. C. D. At least he is a volunteer. - -GEN. W. How would that affect the matter? - -A. C. D. I think he would rally better if he were beaten. There would -be no end to his resistance, like the North in the American War. - -GEN. W. Don’t you think, if war were declared with Germany, that the -public, fearing an invasion, would clamour against any regular troops -going abroad at all? - -A. C. D. I think the public would leave it to the War Office. In the -South African War they allowed our troops to go 6,000 miles away, and -yet there was a danger of a European coalition. - -COLONEL S.-W. But our Navy was supreme then. - -A. C. D. Not against a coalition. - -GEN. W. When Cervera’s fleet got loose, the Americans would not allow -their troops to embark. - -COLONEL S.-W. Even the Pacific coast was terrified. - -A. C. D. Well, surely that is the _reductio ad absurdum_. - -COLONEL S.-W. Still, the fact remains. - -GEN. W. If we could send fifteen divisions we could stop a war. - -A. C. D. But that means compulsory service. - -GEN. W. Why not? - -A. C. D. Because I am convinced that you could not get it. I have twice -stood for Parliament, and I am sure no candidate would have a chance on -such a platform. - -GEN. W. Our descendants will say, “Well, you saw the danger, and yet -you made no effort.” - -A. C. D. Well, we have doubled our estimates. Surely that is an effort -and must represent power somewhere. - -We parted quite good friends, but the General’s evident desire to -rope me in as a compulsory-service man was vain. I venture to think -that Lord Roberts’ efforts in that direction were a great mistake, -and that if he had devoted the same great energy to the line of least -resistance, which was the Territorial force, we could have had half a -million in the ranks when war broke out. - -From the time that I was convinced by my experiences at the Prince -Henry race and by carefully reading German literature that a war was -really brewing, I naturally began to speculate as to the methods of -attack and of defence. I have an occasional power of premonition, -psychic rather than intellectual, which exercises itself beyond my -own control, and which when it really comes is never mistaken. The -danger seems to be that my own prejudice or reasonings may interfere -with it. On this occasion I saw as clearly as possible what the course -of a naval war between England and Germany would be. I had no doubt -at all that our greatest danger--a desperately real one--was that -they would use their submarines in order to sink our food ships, and -that we might be starved into submission. Even if we won every fleet -action, this unseen enemy would surely bring us to our knees. It all -worked out in exact detail in my mind--so much so that Admiral Capelle -mentioned my name afterwards in the Reichstag, and said that only I had -accurately seen the economic form which the war would assume. This was -perhaps true, so far as the economic side went, but Sir Percy Scott -had spoken with far more authority than I on the growing power of the -submarines in warfare. - -I was made very uneasy by this line of thought, and all the more so -because I asked several naval officers for some reassurance and could -get none. One of them, I remember, said that it was all right because -we should put a boom across the Channel, which seemed to me like saying -that you could keep eels from going down a river by laying a plank -across it. Among others I spoke to Captain Beatty, as he then was, -whom I met at a week-end party at Knole, and though he could give me -no reassurance about submarines he impressed me by his vivid and alert -personality, and I felt that a Navy with such men in command was safe -enough where fighting was concerned. It could not, however, fill the -platter if there was no loaf to place upon it. I pondered the matter, -and could only see three palliatives, and no cure. - -The first was to encourage home growth by a bonus or by a tariff. But -here our accursed party politics barred the way, as I had learned only -too clearly after spending a thousand pounds in fighting the Hawick -Burghs in order to get some form of agricultural protection. - -The second was to meet submarines by submarine food-carriers. I think -that this may prove the final solution, but the ships were not yet -planned, far less launched. - -The third and most obvious was the Channel Tunnel, or tunnels for -preference. I had supported this scheme for years, and felt that as -a nation we had made fools of ourselves over it, exactly as we did -over the Suez Canal. If we were an island the size of the Wight such -timidity would be intelligible, but the idea of a great country being -invaded through a hole in the ground twenty-seven miles long seemed -to me the most fantastic possible, while the practical use of the -tunnel both for trade and for tourists was obvious. But now I saw -that far more serious issues were at stake, for if we were held up by -submarines, and if France was either neutral or our ally, we could land -all the Eastern portion of our supplies, which is not inconsiderable, -at Marseilles and so run them safely to London without breaking bulk. -When I put this forward in the press some military critic said: “But -if the submarines could hold up the Channel they could hold up the -Mediterranean also.” This did not seem a good argument, because Germany -was the possible enemy and it had no port in the Mediterranean, while -the radius of submarine action at that time was not great enough to -allow them to come so far. So strongly did I feel about the need for a -Channel Tunnel in view of the coming war that I remember writing three -memoranda and sending one to the Army, one to the Navy, and one to the -Council of Imperial Defence. Of course I got no satisfaction of any -kind, but Captain--now General--Swinton, who was acting as secretary -to the latter body, told me that he had read my paper and that it had -“set him furiously thinking.” I wrote to Lord Northcliffe also, without -avail. I felt as if, like Solomon Eagle, I could go through London with -a burning brazier on my head, if I could only get people to understand -the need of the tunnel. The whole discussion had taken the utterly -impossible and useless turn towards compulsory service, and the things -which were practical and vital were being missed. - -I spoke in public about the tunnel when I could, and on one occasion, -just a year before the war, I raised a discussion in “The Times,” Mr. -Ronald McNeill giving me an opening by declaring in the House that -the project was a crazy one. There was also about that time a meeting -in the City at the Cannon Street Hotel, where a very influential body -of men supported the scheme. My speech, as reported next day in “The -Times” in a very condensed form, ran thus: - -“Sir A. Conan Doyle said there were possibilities in a future war that -rendered it a matter of vital national importance that the tunnel -should be constructed without delay. The danger was that we were -getting five-sixths of our food supplies from abroad, and submarine -craft were developing remarkable qualities which were not generally -realized. They were able to avoid a blockade squadron, and to pass -under a patrol line of torpedo-boats without their existence being even -suspected. If they were sent to the line of our commerce and told to -sink a ship, they would torpedo that ship for a certainty. What would -be the condition of our food supplies if there were twenty-five hostile -submarines off the Kent coast and twenty-five in the Irish Channel? The -price of food would reach an almost prohibitive figure. The Military -Correspondent of ‘The Times’ was a great opponent of the Channel Tunnel -and was always running it down and mocking at it. But the other day -he wrote an article on the Mediterranean, and, forgetting the Channel -Tunnel, he said: ‘We must remember that more than half the food supply -of this country now comes from the Mediterranean.’ If it came through -the Mediterranean, and if it got to Marseilles and we had the Channel -Tunnel, it was only a matter of management to get it through to London.” - -The Military Correspondent of “The Times,” who was presumably Colonel -Repington, had an article next day deriding the scheme, and making -light of my picture of submarines in the Channel. Well, we have -lived to see them, and I wish my argument had proved less sound. -Colonel Repington has proved himself so clear-sighted an observer and -commentator in the last war that he can be forgiven if, for once, he -was on the wrong side; but if the Channel Tunnel had been put in hand -at once after that meeting and rushed to completion, I wonder if it -would be an exaggeration to say that a hundred million pounds would -have been saved, while what it would have meant in evacuating wounded -and in communications in stormy weather could not be represented in -words. Imagine the convenience and saving of time and labour when -munitions could be started at Woolwich and landed at Amiens without a -break. - -It has been argued that if the tunnel had been built the first swoop of -the Germans would have brought them to the end of it and it would have -been destroyed. But this will not bear examination, for it is based on -the idea that we should have left the end unprotected. It would as a -matter of fact have been the most natural fortress in the world, the -strongest and the strangest, for it would be the only fortress where -you could increase or withdraw your garrison at will, and introduce any -supplies at any time you might desire. A very few forts and trenches on -those convenient chalk slopes with their wide, smooth fields of fire, -would hold the tunnel. In stretching their right wing as far as Amiens -the Germans were very nearly cut off, and it was by a very great effort -that Von Kluck saved it. If instead of Amiens he had reached Calais -with sufficient forces for a siege he would have been unable to get -away. An argument based upon the supposition that we should leave the -mouth of the tunnel in Picardy as unprotected as the mouth of a coal -mine in Kent is surely an unsound one. Now, in 1924, they are talking -of building the tunnel. I wonder what our descendants will think of the -whole business--probably what we think of the men who opposed the Suez -Canal. - -It is a most singular thing that our Navy, with so many practical and -clever men in it, with a genius like Winston Churchill at the head, and -another genius like Lord Fisher in continual touch, did not realize, -until faced with actual results, some of the most important and surely -most obvious points in connection with naval warfare. It came, I -suppose, from the iron bonds of tradition, and that there were so many -things to supervise, but the fact remains that a perfectly overwhelming -case could be made out against the higher brain department of our -senior service. A war with Germany was anticipated, and, as the public -imagined, was prepared for, but save for the ship-building programme, -which left us a narrow margin of safety, and for the concentration -of our distant squadrons into British waters and the elimination of -many useless craft which consumed good crews, what evidence is there -of foresight? It was known, for example, that Scapa Flow and Cromarty -were the two possible anchorages of the Fleet in a long-distance -blockade, and yet no attempt had been made to mount guns or to net the -entrances, so that for months there was a possibility of a shattering -disaster; and Jellicoe, with the prudence which always distinguished -him, had to put to sea every night lest his fleet should present a -sitter to a torpedo attack. We showed intelligence in sticking always -to the heavier guns, but our mines were wretchedly inefficient, our -range-finders were very inferior, and our shells proved to have less -penetrating and explosive force. - -But the worst thing of all was the utter want of imagination shown in -picturing the conditions of modern naval warfare, which must surely -be done before just preparation can be made. It was clear that the -effect of armour protection on one side, and of the mine and the -torpedo on the other, would mean that if the ship floated there would -be little loss of life, but that she was very likely to sink, in which -case the whole crew would go. Therefore provision must be made for -the saving of every one on board. The authorities, however, seem to -have completely underrated the dangers of the mine and torpedo, and -centred their attention upon the surface naval action, where boats, -being inflammable, would be a danger and where in any case they would -probably be shot to pieces before the end of the fight. The pre-war -idea was to throw the boats and every other wooden object overboard -before the action began. - -The very first day of naval warfare showed the importance of the mine, -as on August 5 the Germans laid a minefield outside the mouth of the -Thames which nearly blew up their own returning Ambassador, Prince -Lichnowsky, and did actually cause the destruction of one of our light -vessels, the _Amphion_. It was clear that one of the great dangers of -the sea lay in this direction, and it soon became equally clear that -nothing had been done to think out some defence. Foresight would have -anticipated this situation and would have set the brains of the younger -naval officers at work devising some remedy. As a matter of fact the -real solution had been roughly indicated by Colonel Repington in -“Blackwood’s Magazine” some four years before, in which he spoke of a -device called “the otter” used by poachers for gathering up lines, and -suggested that something of the sort would gather up the lines to which -mines are attached. After three years of war, and very many preventable -losses, including the great battleship _Audacious_, the splendid -auxiliary cruiser _Laurentic_ with six millions in gold on board, and -many other fine vessels, the cure was found in the paravane, which was -an adaptation of “the otter.” After its adoption ships could cruise -over a minefield with little fear of injury, and our squadrons were no -longer confined to the narrow lanes which had been swept clear. - -I was from the beginning greatly impressed by this danger, and I wrote -early in the war both to the papers and the Admiralty, but my device -was crude and clumsy compared to what was actually done. My idea was -something like a huge trident or toasting fork which could be hauled up -on the bows when the waters were safe, but could be pushed forward and -dipped down in front when there was danger, so as to explode any mine -before the ship could actually reach it. Such an apparatus would be -better than nothing, but still I quite admit that it was an inadequate -solution of the problem. But at least it was an attempt--and no other -attempt was visible for years afterwards. - -But the particular instance of mines was a small consideration beside -the huge permanent incredible fact that while it was clear that a -battleship could suddenly go down like a kettle with a hole in it, -dragging a thousand men down with it, there was no provision by which -the lives of these men could be saved. It was really unbelievable until -there came the terrible example when the three cruisers, _Hogue_, -_Aboukir_, and _Cressy_, were all put down in a single day. A young -German lieutenant with twenty men had caused us more loss than we -suffered at Trafalgar. To learn how the helpless men had nowhere -to turn, and how they clung on to floating petrol tins as their -only safety, should have been terrible reading to those whose want -of foresight had brought about such a situation. It was a dreadful -object-lesson, and there seemed no reason why it should not be often -repeated. I had already commented in the press upon the situation -which would arise in a general action, with ships sinking all round -and no boats. I suggested that it might be possible to drop the boats -before battle and to have them in tow of a steam launch which could -bring them up if needed. Of course I saw all the difficulties and -dangers of such a course, but if one took the word of the sailors that -the boats were a danger on board then I could think of no other way -of working it. When I wrote about it, several naval critics, notably -Commander Jane, rapped me hard over the knuckles, and deplored the -intrusion of landsmen into matters of which they knew nothing. But -when this great catastrophe occurred, I realized that the protection -must be individual rather than collective, and that one must ventilate -the thing in public with such warmth that the authorities would be -compelled to do something. If wooden boats were impossible, what about -India-rubber collars which would at least hold the poor fellows above -the waves until some help could reach them? I opened an agitation in -several papers, notably the “Daily Mail” and the “Daily Chronicle,” and -within a very few days--either _post hoc_ or _propter hoc_--there was a -rush order for a quarter of a million collars which could be blown out -by the men themselves, and which were henceforth to be part of their -vital equipment. The “Hampshire Telegraph,” the best informed of naval -papers, said: - -“The Navy has to thank Sir Conan Doyle for the new life-saving -apparatus the Admiralty are supplying. Some weeks ago he asked if -it was not possible to manufacture a simple and easily inflatable -life-belt, and, thanks to the enterprise of a rubber-manufacturing -firm, a swimming collar is now being supplied to the men of the fleet -in the North Sea as fast as they can be turned out. The apparatus is -exceedingly simple. It is made of rubber, enclosed in a stout web -casing, and weighs complete under three ounces. It can be carried -in the pocket and can be inflated in position round a man’s neck in -about ten seconds. Its effect is to keep the man’s head above water -indefinitely. There is little doubt that this swimming collar will -result in the saving of many lives, and the Admiralty are to be -congratulated upon the promptitude with which they have adopted the -suggestion of Sir Conan Doyle.” - -I was by no means satisfied with this, however; for, however useful in -calm water on a summer day, it was clear that men would soon perish -by exhaustion in a rough winter sea, and the collars would only -prolong their agony. If wooden boats took up too much room and were -inflammable, how about India-rubber collapsible boats? I wrote in the -“Daily Mail”: - -“We can spare and replace the ships. We cannot spare the men. They -_must_ be saved, and this is how to save them. There is nothing so -urgent as this. We can view all future disasters with equanimity if -the ship’s company has only a fair chance for its life.” Of course -one recognized that there were some situations where nothing would -avail. The _Formidable_, which was torpedoed near Plymouth on January -1, 1915, was a case in point. Captain Miller, of the Brixham trawler -which rescued seventy men, said to the “Daily Mail” representative that -I was doing a national work in my efforts to get better life-saving -appliances for the men of the Navy. He remarked that in calm weather -collapsible boats would be of use, but they could not possibly have -lived in the seas which were breaking over the _Formidable’s_ whaler. -The weather here was exceptional, and one cannot hope to provide for -every case. - -The final result of the agitation was the provision of collars, of -safety waistcoats, and (as I believe) of a better supply of boats. -I need hardly say that I never received a word of acknowledgment -or thanks from the Admiralty. One is not likely to be thanked by a -Government department for supplementing its work. But it may be that -some poor seaman struggling in the water sent me his good wish, and -those are the thanks that I desired. There was nothing in the war which -moved me more than the thought of the helpless plight of these gallant -men who were sacrificed when they could so easily have been saved. - -Like every man with Irish blood in his veins, I was deeply moved by the -tragedy of Ireland during the war--her fine start, the want of tact -with which it was met, her sad relapse, and finally her failure to rise -to the great world crisis. - -A letter which I value very much is one which I received from Major -William Redmond just before his lamented death. What an abyss of evil -Ireland would have been saved from had the spirit of this letter been -the inspiration upon which she acted! - - 18.12.16. - - DEAR SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE,-- - - It was very good of you to write to me and I value very much the - expression of your opinion. There are a great many Irishmen to-day who - feel that out of this War we should try and build up a new Ireland. - The trouble is men are so timid about meeting each other half-way. - It would be a fine memorial to the men who have died so splendidly, - if we could over their graves build up a bridge between the North and - South. I have been thinking a lot about this lately in France--no one - could help doing so when one finds that the two sections from Ireland - are actually _side_ by _side_ holding the trenches! No words--not even - your own--could do justice to the splendid action of the new Irish - soldiers. They never have flinched. They never give trouble, and they - are steady and sober. Had poor Kettle lived he would have given the - world a wonderful account of things out there. I saw a good deal of - Kettle, and we had many talks of the Unity we both hoped would come - out of the War. I have been an extreme Nationalist all my life, and if - others as extreme, perhaps, on the other side will only come half-way, - then I believe, impossible as it may seem, we should be able to hit - upon a plan to satisfy the Irish sentiment and the Imperial sentiment - at one and the same time. I am sure you can do very much, as you - already have done, in this direction. I am going back for Christmas - with the men I have become attached very deeply to during the last two - years. - - With many thanks for your letter, - - Yours very truly, - WILLIAM REDMOND. - Major. - - -If this letter, even now, were posted up by the Free State and Northern -Governments at every cross-roads of Ireland the spirit of Willie -Redmond might heal the wounds of the unhappy country. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -A REMEMBRANCE OF THE DARK YEARS - - Nightmares of the Morning--The Civilian Reserve--The - Volunteers--Domestic Life in War Time--German Prisoners--Cipher to our - Prisoners--Sir John French--Empress Eugenie--Miracle Town--Armour--Our - Tragedy. - - -I can never forget, and our descendants can never imagine, the strange -effect upon the mind which was produced by seeing the whole European -fabric drifting to the edge of the chasm with absolute uncertainty -as to what would happen when it toppled over. Military surprises, -starvation, revolution, bankruptcy--no one knew what so unprecedented -an episode would produce. It was all so evidently preventable, and yet -it was so madly impossible to prevent it, for the Prussians had stuck -their monkey-wrench into the machinery and it would no longer work. As -a rule one has wild dreams and wakes to sanity, but on those mornings I -left sanity when I woke and found myself in a world of nightmare dreams. - -On August 4, when war seemed assured, I had a note from Mr. Goldsmith, -a plumber in the village: “There is a feeling in Crowborough that -something should be done.” This made me laugh at first, but presently -I thought more seriously of it. After all, Crowborough was one of -a thousand villages, and we might be planning and acting for all. -Therefore I had notices rapidly printed. I distributed them and put -them at road corners, and the same evening (August 4) we held a village -meeting and started the Volunteers, a force which soon grew to 200,000 -men. - -The old Volunteers had become extinct when the Territorials had been -organized some ten or twelve years before. But this new force which -I conceived was to be a universal one, where every citizen, young -and old, should be trained to arms--a great stockpot into which the -nation could dip and draw its needs. We named ourselves the Civilian -Reserve. No one, I reflected, could be the worse in such days for -being able to drill and to shoot, or for being assembled in organized -units. Government was too preoccupied to do anything, and we must show -initiative for ourselves. After I had propounded my scheme, I signed -the roll myself, and 120 men did the same. Those were the first men in -the Volunteer Force. Next evening we assembled at the drill-hall, found -out who could drill us, chose our non-commissioned officers and set to -work to form ourselves into an efficient company. Gillette, my American -actor friend, had got stranded in England, and he was an interested -spectator on this occasion. For the time being I took command. - -I had notified the War Office what we had done and asked for official -sanction. We were careful not to stand in the way of recruiting and -determined to admit none who could reasonably join up at once. When the -plan began to work I wrote a description of our methods to “The Times.” -As a consequence I received requests for our rules and methods from -1,200 towns and villages. My secretary and I worked all day getting -these off, and in many cases the inquiries led to the formation of -similar companies. - -For about a fortnight all went well. We drilled every day, though we -had no weapons. At the end of that time there came a peremptory order -from the War Office: “All unauthorized bodies to be at once disbanded.” -Unquestioning and cheerful obedience is the first law in time of war. -The company was on parade. I read out the telegram and then said: -“Right turn! Dismiss!” With this laconic order the Civilian Reserve -dissolved for ever. - -But it had a speedy and glorious resurrection. There was a central body -in London with some remote connection with the old Volunteer Force. -Lord Desborough was chairman of this, and there could not have been a -better man. The Government put the formation of a Volunteer Force into -the charge of this committee, to which I was elected. Mr. Percy Harris -was the secretary and showed great energy. I wrote to all the 1,200 -applicants referring them to this new centre, and we, the Crowborough -body, now became the Crowborough Company of the Sixth Royal Sussex -Volunteer Regiment. That we were the first company in the country was -shown by the “Volunteer Gazette” when a prize was awarded for this -distinction. Under its new shape Captain St. Quintin, who had been a -soldier, became our leader, and Mr. Gresson and Mr. Druce, both of them -famous cricketers, our lieutenants. Goldsmith was one of the sergeants, -and I remained a full private for four years of war, and an extra -half-year before we were demobilized. Our ranks fluctuated, for as the -age limit of service gradually rose we passed many men into the regular -Army, but we filled up with new recruits, and we were always about a -hundred strong. Our drill and discipline were excellent, and when we -received our rifles and bayonets we soon learned to use them, nor were -our marching powers contemptible when one remembers that many of the -men were in the fifties and even in the sixties. It was quite usual for -us to march from Crowborough to Frant, with our rifles and equipment, -to drill for a long hour in a heavy marshy field, and then to march -back, singing all the way. It would be a good fourteen miles, apart -from the drill. - -I have very pleasant recollections of that long period of service. I -learned to know my neighbours who stood in the same ranks, and I hope -that they also learned to know me as they could not otherwise. We had -frequent camps, field days and inspections. On one occasion 8,000 of us -were assembled, and I am bound to say that I have never seen a finer -body of men, though they were rather of the police-constable than of -the purely military type. The spirit was excellent, and I am sure that -if we had had our chance we should have done well in action. But it -was hard to know how to get the chance save in case of invasion. We -were the remaining pivots of national life, and could only be spared -for short periods or chaos would follow. But a week or two in case -of invasion was well within our powers, and such a chance would have -been eagerly hailed. No doubt our presence enabled the Government to -strip the country of regular troops far more than they would have -dared otherwise to do. Twice, as Repington’s “Memoirs” show, there was -a question of embodying us for active service, but in each case the -emergency passed. - -I found the life of a private soldier a delightful one. To be led -and not to lead was most restful, and so long as one’s thoughts were -bounded by the polishing of one’s buttons and buckles, or the cleansing -of one’s rifle, one was quietly happy. In that long period I shared -every phase of my companions’ life. I have stood in the queue with -my pannikin to get a welcome drink of beer, and I have slept in a -bell-tent on a summer night with a Sussex yokel blissfully snoring upon -each of my shoulders. Sometimes amusing situations arose. I remember -a new adjutant arriving and reviewing us. When he got opposite to me -in his inspection, his eyes were caught by my South African medal. -“You have seen service, my man,” said he. “Yes, sir,” I answered. -He was a little cocky fellow who might well have been my son so far -as age went. When he had passed down the line, he said to our C.O., -St. Quintin: “Who is that big fellow on the right of the rear rank?” -“That’s Sherlock Holmes,” said C.O. “Good Lord!” said the adjutant, “I -hope he does not mind my ‘My manning’ him!” “He just loves it,” said -St. Quintin, which showed that he knew me. - -The other big factor which covered the whole period of the war, -and some time after it, was my writing the History of the European -campaign, which I published volume by volume under the name of -“The British Campaign in France and Flanders.” My information was -particularly good, for I had organized a very extensive correspondence -with the generals, who were by no means anxious for self-advertisement, -but were, on the other hand, very keen that the deeds of their -particular troops should have full justice done them. In this way I was -able to be the first to describe in print the full battle-line with -all the divisions, and even brigades in their correct places from Mons -onwards to the last fight before the Armistice. When I think what a -fuss was made in the old days when any Correspondent got the account of -a single Colonial battle before his comrades, it is amazing to me that -hardly a single paper ever commented, in reviewing these six successive -volumes, upon the fact that I was really the only public source of -supply of accurate and detailed information. I can only suppose that -they could not believe it to be true. I had no help but only hindrance -from the War Office, and everything I got was by means which were -equally open to anyone else who took the trouble to organize them. Of -course, I was bowdlerized and blue-pencilled by censors, but still the -fact remains that a dozen great battle-lines were first charted by me. -I have since read the official account so far as it has gone, and find -little to change in my own, though the German and French records are -now available to broaden the picture. For the moment war literature is -out of fashion, and my war history, which reflects all the passion and -pain of those hard days, has never come into its own. I would reckon -it the greatest and most undeserved literary disappointment of my life -if I did not know that the end is not yet and that it may mirror those -great times to those who are to come. - -For the rest I had a great deal of literary propaganda work to do. Once -it was the “To Arms!” pamphlet written in conjunction with Mr. Smith, -soon to become Lord Birkenhead. Once again it was an appeal for our -ill-used prisoners. Sometimes Norway, sometimes South America, always -the United States, needed treatment. As to my special missions, those I -treat in separate chapters. - -There are many small but very important details of domestic life during -the war which have never been properly described, and could indeed -best be described by a woman, for they were usually an invasion of -her department. Our descendants will never realize how we were all -registered and docketed and rationed, so that the State could give the -least to and take the most from each of us. One had food-cards for -practically everything, and the card only entitled you to get your -meagre portion if it was to be had. Often it wasn’t. I have been at a -great lunch with half the grandees of the land, and the Prime Minister -to speak. The fare was Irish stew and rice-pudding. - -What could man ask for more, but it will need another war to bring it -round again. There was a pleasing uncertainty about all meals. There -was always a sense of adventure and a wonder whether you would really -get something. It all made for appetite. Then there were the darkened -windows, the sharp knocking of the police if the blind emitted any -light, the vexatious summons for very small offences, the pulling down -of every blind on the railway trains. At night one never knew what -evil bird was flying overhead or what foul egg would be dropped. Once, -as we sat in the theatre at Eastbourne, the whirr of a Zeppelin was -heard above us. Half the audience slipped out, the lights were put -out, and the play was finished with candles on the stage. When I was -lecturing in London the same thing happened, and I finished my lecture -in the dark. - -Every one found themselves doing strange things. I was not only a -private in the Volunteers, but I was a signaller and I was for a -time number one of a machine gun. My wife started a home for Belgian -refugees in Crowborough. My son was a soldier, first, last, and all -the time. My daughter Mary gave herself up altogether to public work, -making shells at Vickers and afterwards serving in a canteen. If I may -quote a passage from my history: “Grotesque combinations resulted from -the eagerness of all classes to lend a hand. An observer has described -how a peer and a prize-fighter worked on the same bench at Woolwich, -while titled ladies and young girls from cultured homes earned sixteen -shillings a week at Erith and boasted in the morning of the number -of shell-cases which they had turned, and finished in their hours of -night-shift. Truly it had become a national war. Of all its memories -none will be stranger than those of the peaceful middle-aged civilians -who were seen eagerly reading books of elementary drill in order to -prepare themselves to meet the most famous soldiers in Europe, or of -the schoolgirls and matrons who donned blue blouses and by their united -work surpassed the output of the great death factories of Essen.” - -Every house had its vegetable garden and every poor man his allotment, -that we might at the worst exist until we could win our peace. The want -of sugar and the limitation of tea were the worst privations. My wife, -greatly helped by a faithful servant, Jakeman, did wonders in saving -food, and we always lived well within our legal rations. This did not -save us once from a police raid, because some tea, sent us as a present -from India, had arrived. We had already distributed a good deal of it, -however, to our less fortunate neighbours, so we came well out of the -matter. - -I have one singular memory in having to guard German prisoners at -work. The Volunteers had a turn at this work, and we spent the night at -Lewes Prison. In the early morning, dark and misty, we were mustered, -and five prisoners handed over to each of us. Mine worked on a farm -some four miles from the town, and thither I had to march them, walking -behind them with my rifle on my shoulder. When I had reached the lonely -country road, I thought I would get into human touch with these poor -slouching wretches, who were still in their stained grey uniforms, -and wearing their service caps with the bright red bands which formed -a wonderful advertisement of the excellence of German dyes. I halted -them, drew them up, and asked them their nationality. Three were from -Wurtemburg and two from Prussia. I asked the Wurtemburgers how long -they had been prisoners. They said, “Fourteen months.” “Then,” said I, -“you were taken by the Canadians at Ypres upon such and such a date.” -They were considerably astonished, since I was simply a second-line -Tommy from their point of view. Of course, I had the details of the -war very clearly in my mind, and I knew that our one big haul of -Wurtemburgers had been on that occasion. To this day they must wonder -how I knew. I shall not forget that day, for I stood for eight hours -leaning on a rifle, amid drizzling rain, while in a little gap of the -mist I watched those men loading carts with manure. I can answer for -it that they were excellent workers, and they seemed civil, tractable -fellows as well. - -It was in 1915 that I managed to establish a secret correspondence -with the British prisoners at Magdeburg. It was not very difficult -to do, and I dare say others managed it as well as I, but it had the -effect of cheering them by a little authentic news, for at that time -they were only permitted to see German newspapers. It came about in -this way. A dear friend of my wife’s, Miss Lily Loder Symonds, had a -brother, Captain Willie Loder Symonds, of the Wiltshires, who had been -wounded and taken in the stand of the 7th Brigade on the evening before -Le Cateau. He was an ingenious fellow and had written home a letter -which passed the German censor, because it seemed to consist in the -description of a farm, but when read carefully it was clear that it was -the conditions of himself and his comrades which he was discussing. It -seemed to me that if a man used such an artifice he would be prepared -for a similar one in a letter from home. I took one of my books, -therefore, and beginning with the third chapter--I guessed the censor -would examine the first--I put little needle-pricks under the various -printed letters until I had spelled out all the news. I then sent the -book and also a letter. In the letter I said that the book was, I -feared, rather slow in the opening, but that from Chapter III onwards -he might find it more interesting. That was as plain as I dared to make -it. Loder Symonds missed the allusion altogether, but by good luck he -showed the letter to Captain the Hon. Rupert Keppel, of the Guards, who -had been taken at Landrecies. He smelled a rat, borrowed the book, and -found my cipher. A message came back to his father, Lord Albemarle, -to the effect that he hoped Conan Doyle would send some more books. -This was sent on to me, and of course showed me that it was all right. -From that time onwards every month or two I pricked off my bulletin, -and a long job it was. Finally, I learned that the British papers were -allowed for the prisoners, so that my budget was superfluous. However, -for a year or two I think it was some solace to them, for I always made -it as optimistic as truth would allow--or perhaps a little more so, -just to get the average right. - -I had some dealings with General French, but only one interview with -him. No one can help feeling a deep respect for the soldier who -relieved Kimberley and headed off Cronje, or for the man who bore the -first hard thrust of the German spear. - -My only interview with the General was at the Horse Guards, when he -talked very clearly about the military position, though most of what -he said as to the changes which modern tactics and heavy guns had -caused was rather self-evident. “Your problem always is how to pass -the wire and the machine guns. There is no way round. What is the good -of talking of invading Austria from the south? You will find the same -wire and the same machine guns. We may as well face it in Flanders as -anywhere else.” This talk was shortly after Loos, when he had returned -from the Army and was at the head of Home Defence. “If you want any -point looked up for your history, mind you let me know and I will see -that it is done.” This sounded very nice to me, who was in a perpetual -state of wanting to know; but as a matter of fact I took it as a mere -empty phrase, and so it proved when a week or two later I put it to the -test. It was a simple question, but I never got any clear answer. - -One pleasing incident occurred in 1917, when a Hull steam trawler -which had been named after me, under the able handling of Skipper -Addy and Lieutenant McCabe of the Naval Reserve, had an action with a -heavily armed modern submarine, the fight lasting for some hours. The -_Conan Doyle_ was acting as flagship of a little group of trawlers, -and though their guns were popguns compared with that of the German, -they so peppered him that he was either sunk or took flight--anyhow, -he vanished under the water. The little boat sent me its ship’s bell -as a souvenir of the exploit, and I sent some small remembrances in -exchange. It was a fine exploit, and I was proud to be connected with -it, even in so remote a way. - -I have in my war chapters expressed my admiration for General Haig. On -one occasion I called upon Lady Haig, when she was administering some -private hospital at Farnborough. It was, so far as I could understand, -one wing of the Empress Eugenie’s house, and the Empress invited me to -lunch. There were present also Prince Victor Napoleon and his wife, -who was, I think, a daughter of my old aversion, Leopold, King of the -Belgians and Overlord of the Congo. The Empress interested me deeply--a -historical relic whom one would expect to study in old pictures and -memoirs, yet there she was moving and talking before me. If Helen -launched a thousand ships, Eugenie, by all accounts, did far more. -Indeed, if the first German War was really from her inspiration, as -Zola insists, she was at the root of all modern history. In spite of -her great age, her face and figure preserved the lines of elegance -and breed, the features clearly cut, the head set proudly upon the -long neck. I glanced into her sitting-room as I passed the open door -and noticed that she was engaged upon an enormous jig-saw puzzle, a -thousand pieces if there were one. Children’s toys engaged the mind -which once played with Empires. There is surely something fatal in -that Spanish blood with its narrow fanatical religion and its masterful -intolerance, magnificent but mediæval like the Church which inspires it. - -She talked very freely with me and in the most interesting manner. -It was surprising to see how fresh her mind was, and what curious -information she had at her command. She told me, for example, that -tetanus in France depended very much upon what soil had got into the -wound, while that in turn depended upon what manures had been used for -the soil--thus the percentage of tetanus cases would be quite different -in a vine-growing district and in one where ordinary crops were -cultivated. She spoke seriously about the war, but was confident as -to the ultimate result. This graceful, withered flower in its strange -setting was one of the outstanding memories of those days. - -All sorts of queer odd jobs came to me as to many others in the war. -I was, of course, prepared always to do absolutely anything which was -suggested, though the suggestions were sometimes not very reasonable. -One must not argue, but simply put one’s whole weight, for what it -is worth, into the scrum. Once I was directed to go up to Scotland -and write up the great new munition works at Gretna, as the public -needed reassurance upon the point. Pearson, the younger brother of -Lord Cowdray, had built them, and they certainly deserved the name of -“Miracle Town,” which I gave them in my article. The great difficulty -always was to give our own people what they wanted and yet not to give -the Germans that which they wanted also. Winston Churchill’s remarkable -memoirs--the best, in my opinion, of all the war books--have shown -how heavily this pressed in high quarters. His volume is certainly a -wonderful vindication of his term of office, and it was a loss to the -country when he left it. - -Churchill was very open to ideas and sympathetic to those who were -trying for some ideal. I had pondered much over armour for the troops, -and he commented on it in an inspiring letter, in which he said that -the bullet-proof man and the torpedo-proof ship were our two great -objects. I worked a good deal upon the question of shields, and wrote -several articles about it in “The Times” and other papers, but the -forces against us were strong. When I saw Mr. Montague on the subject -at the Ministry of Munitions, he said: “Sir Arthur, there is no use -your arguing here, for there is no one in the building who does not -know that you are right. The whole difficulty lies in making the -soldiers accept your views.” - -One has, of course, to be reasonable on the point, and to admit that -there is a limit to what a man can carry, and that greater weight -means slower movement, and therefore longer exposure. That is fully -granted. But when the helmet in actual practice was found so useful, -why should it not be supplemented by steel shoulder-guards, since the -helmet might actually guide the bullets down on to the shoulders? And -why not a plastron over the heart? The vital points in a man’s anatomy -are not really so numerous. If many a life was saved by a buckle or a -cigarette-case, why should such protection not be systematized? And -why in trench warfare should not strong breastplates be kept for the -temporary use of any troops in the front line? I experimented with my -own service rifle upon steel plates, and I was surprised to find how -easy it was at twenty paces to turn a bullet. I am convinced that very -many lives would have been saved had my views been adopted, and that -the men in the hour of danger would have been only too glad to carry -that part of their equipment. - -The Tank, however, was a device which carried the armour and the men -also, so that it was an extension of these ideas. We can never be -grateful enough to the men who thought out the Tank, for I have no -doubt at all that this product of British brains and British labour -won the war, which would otherwise have ended in a peace of mutual -exhaustion. Churchill, D’Eyncourt, Tritton, Swinton and Bertie -Stern,--these were in sober fact, divide the credit as you may, the men -who played a very essential part in bringing down the giant. - -Our household suffered terribly in the war. The first to fall was my -wife’s brother, Malcolm Leckie, of the Army Medical Service, whose -gallantry was so conspicuous that he was awarded a posthumous D.S.O. -While he was actually dying himself, with shrapnel in his chest, he -had the wounded to his bedside and bandaged them. Then came the turn -of Miss Loder Symonds, who lived with us and was a beloved member of -the family. Three of her brothers were killed and the fourth wounded. -Finally, on an evil day for us, she also passed on. Then two brave -nephews, Alec Forbes and Oscar Hornung, went down with bullets through -the brain. My gallant brother-in-law, Major Oldham, was killed by a -sniper during his first days in the trenches. And then finally, just -as all seemed over, I had a double blow. First it was my Kingsley, my -only son by the first marriage, one of the grandest boys in body and -soul that ever a father was blessed with. He had started the war as a -private, worked up to an acting captaincy in the 1st Hampshires, and -been very badly wounded on the Somme. It was pneumonia which slew him -in London, and the same cursed plague carried off my soldier brother -Innes, he who had shared my humble strivings at Southsea so many -years ago. A career lay before him, for he was only forty and already -Adjutant-General of a corps, with the Legion of Honour, and a great -record of service. But he was called and he went like the hero he was. -“You do not complain at all, sir,” said the orderly. “I am a soldier,” -said the dying General. Thank God that I have since found that the -gates are not shut, but only ajar, if one does show earnestness in the -quest. Of all these that I have mentioned, there is but one from whom I -have been unable to obtain clear proof of posthumous existence. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -EXPERIENCES ON THE BRITISH FRONT - - Lord Newton--How I Got Out--Sir W. Robertson--The Destroyer--First - Experience of Trenches--Ceremony at Bethune--Mother--The Ypres - Salient--Ypres--The Hull Territorial--General Sir Douglas - Haig--Artillery Duel--Kingsley--Major Wood--Paris. - - -I had naturally wished to get out to the British front and to see -things for myself. And yet I had scruples also, for when soldiers -are doing a difficult job mere spectators and joy-riders are out of -place. I felt what a perfect nuisance they must be, and hesitated to -join them. On the other hand, I had surely more claims than most, -since I was not only compiling a history of the campaign, but was -continually writing in the press upon military subjects. I made up my -mind, therefore, that I was justified in going, but I had as yet no -opportunity. - -However, it came along in a very strange way. It was in the early -summer of 1916 that I had a note from Lord Newton, saying that he -wished to see me at the Foreign Office. I could not conceive what he -wanted to see me about, but of course I went. Lord Newton seemed to -be doing general utility work which involved the interests of our -prisoners in Germany, as well as press arrangements, missions, etc. The -former alone would be enough for anyone, and he was exposed to severe -criticism for not being sufficiently zealous in the cause. “Newton, the -Teuton,” sang the prisoners, a parody on “Gilbert, the Filbert,” one of -the idiotic popular songs of pre-war days. However, I am convinced that -he really did his very best, and that his policy was wise, for if it -came to an interchange of revenge and barbarity between Germany and us, -there was only one in it. There is no use starting a game in which you -are bound to be beaten. Winston Churchill had tried it in the case of -the submarine officers, with the result that thirty of our own picked -officers had endured much in their prisons and the policy had to be -reconsidered. - -Lord Newton is a wit and has a humorous face which covers a good deal -of solid capacity. He plunged instantly into the business on hand. - -“It is the Italian army,” said he. “They want a bit of limelight. We -propose to send several fellows on short missions to write them up. -Your name has been mentioned and approved. Will you go?” - -I never thought more quickly in my life than on that occasion. I had no -plan when I entered the room, since I was ignorant of the proposition, -but I saw my opening in a flash. - -“No,” said I. - -Lord Newton looked surprised. - -“Why not?” he asked. - -“Because I should be in a false position,” I answered. “I have nothing -to compare them with. I have not even seen the British front yet. How -absurd it would be for me to approve or to condemn when they could -reasonably ask me what I knew about the matter!” - -“Would you go if that were set right?” - -“Yes, certainly.” - -“Then I don’t think there will be an insuperable difficulty.” - -“Well, if you can arrange that, I am entirely at your disposal.” - -“By the way,” said he, “if you go to the front, and especially to the -Italian front, a uniform will be essential. What have you a right to -wear?” - -“I am a private in the Volunteers.” - -He laughed. - -“I think you would be shot at sight by both armies,” said he. “You -would be looked upon as a rare specimen. I don’t think that would do.” - -I had a happy thought. - -“I am a deputy-lieutenant of Surrey,” said I. “I have the right to wear -a uniform when with troops.” - -“Excellent!” he cried. “Nothing could be better. Well, you will hear -from me presently.” - -I went straight off to my tailor, who rigged me up in a wondrous khaki -garb which was something between that of a Colonel and a Brigadier, -with silver roses instead of stars or crowns upon the shoulder-straps. -As I had the right to wear several medals, including the South African, -the general effect was all right, but I always felt a mighty impostor, -though it was certainly very comfortable and convenient. I was still -a rare specimen, and quite a number of officers of three nations made -inquiry about my silver roses. A deputy-lieutenant may not be much in -England, but when translated into French--my French anyhow--it has an -awe-inspiring effect, and I was looked upon by them as an inscrutable -but very big person with a uniform all of his own. - -It was in May when I had my meeting with Lord Newton, and towards the -end of the month I received a pass which would take me to the British -lines. I remember the solicitude of my family, who seemed to think that -I was going on active service. To quiet their kindly anxieties I said: -“My dears, I shall be held in the extreme rear, and I shall be lucky if -ever I see a shell burst on the far horizon.” The sequel showed that my -estimate was nearly as mistaken as theirs. - -I had had some correspondence with General Robertson, and had dedicated -my History of the war to him, so much was I impressed with the splendid -work he had done behind the line in the early days, when Cowans and -he had as much strain and anxiety from their position in the wings as -any of those who were in the limelight of the stage. He was, as it -happened, going over to France, and he sent me a note to ask whether -I would like to share his private compartment on the train and then -use his destroyer instead of the ordinary steamer. Of course I was -delighted. General Robertson is a sturdy, soldierly, compact man, with -a bull-dog face and looks as if he might be obstinate and even sullen -if crossed. Such men are splendid if they keep their qualities for the -enemy, but possibly dangerous if they use them on their associates. -Certainly Robertson had a great deal of fighting to do at home as well -as abroad, and was in the latter days of the war in constant conflict -with the authorities, and with an open feud against the Prime Minister, -but it is hard to say who was right. Perhaps, if it were not for the -pressure which Robertson, Repington and others exercised, it would -have been more difficult to raise those last few hundred thousand men -who saved us in 1918. Like so many big men, his appearance was most -deceptive, and though he looked every inch the soldier, there was -nothing to show that great capacity for handling a large business, -which would surely have put him at the head of any commercial concern -in the country. There was a Cromwellian touch in him which peeped out -in occasional religious allusions. He was very engrossed in papers and -figures, and I hardly had a word with him between London and Newhaven. - -We went straight on to the destroyer and she cast off her moorings -within a few minutes. The Channel crossing was a great experience for -me, and I stood on the bridge all the time looking about for traces -of war--which were not numerous. Just under the bridge stood a sturdy -seaman in pea jacket and flapped cap, an intent, crouching, formidable -figure, with his hand on the crank of a quick-firing gun. He never -relaxed, and for the whole hour, as we tore across, his head, and -occasionally his gun, was slowly traversing from right to left. The -captain, a young lieutenant whose name I have forgotten, told me what -hellish work it was in the winter, though perhaps “hellish” is not -the _mot juste_ for that bitterly cold vigil. His ship was called the -_Zulu_. Shortly afterwards it was blown up, as was its consort the -_Nubian_, but as two of the halves were still serviceable, they stuck -them together and made one very good ship, the _Zubian_. You can’t -beat the British dockyard any more than you can the British Navy which -it mothers. That evening we ran through some twenty miles of Northern -France, and wound up at the usual guesthouse, where I met several -travelling Russians. Colonel Wilson, a dark, quiet, affable man, who -had the thorny job of looking after the press, and Brig.-General -Charteris, a pleasant, breezy, fresh-complexioned soldier, head of the -British Intelligence Department, joined us at dinner. Everything was -quite comfortable, but at the same time properly plain and simple. -There is nothing more hateful than luxury behind a battle-line. Next -day I had a wonderful twelve hours in contact with the soldiers all the -time, and I will take some account of it from the notes I made at the -time, but now I can expand them and give names more freely. - -The crowning impression which I carried away from that wonderful -day was the enormous imperturbable confidence of the Army and its -extraordinary efficiency in organization, administration, material, and -personnel. I met in one day a sample of many types, an army commander, -a corps commander, two divisional commanders, staff officers of many -grades, and, above all, I met repeatedly the two very great men whom -Britain has produced, the private soldier and the regimental officer. -Everywhere and on every face one read the same spirit of cheerful -bravery. Even the half-mad cranks whose absurd consciences prevented -them from barring the way to the devil seemed to me to be turning into -men under the prevailing influence. I saw a batch of them, neurotic and -largely bespectacled, but working with a will by the roadside. There -was no foolish bravado, no underrating of a dour opponent, but a quick, -alert, confident attention to the job in hand which was an inspiration -to the observer. - -“Get out of the car. Don’t let it stay here. It may be hit.” These -words from a staff officer gave you the first idea that things were -going to happen. Up to then you might have been driving through the -black country in the Walsall district with the population of Aldershot -let loose upon its dingy roads. “Put on this shrapnel helmet. That hat -of yours would infuriate the Boche”--this was an unkind allusion to my -uniform. “Take this gas mask. You won’t need it, but it is a standing -order. Now come on!” - -We crossed a meadow and entered a trench. Here and there it came to -the surface again where there was dead ground. At one such point an -old church stood, with an unexploded shell sticking out of the wall. -A century hence folk may journey to see that shell. Then on again -through an endless cutting. It was slippery clay below. I had no nails -in my boots, an iron pot on my head, and the sun above me. I remember -that walk. The telephone wires ran down the side. Here and there -large thistles and other plants grew from the clay walls, so immobile -had been our lines. Occasionally there were patches of untidiness. -“Shells,” said the officer laconically. There was a racket of guns -before us and behind, especially behind, but danger seemed remote with -all these Bairnsfather groups of cheerful Tommies at work around us. I -passed one group of grimy, tattered boys. A glance at their shoulders -showed me that they were of a public-school battalion, the 20th Royal -Fusiliers. “I thought you fellows were all officers now,” I remarked. -“No, sir, we like it better so.” “Well, it will be a great memory for -you. We are all in your debt.” - -They saluted, and we squeezed past them. They had the fresh brown faces -of boy cricketers. But their comrades were men of a different type, -with hard, strong, rugged features, and the eyes of men who have seen -strange sights. These were veterans, men of Mons, and their young pals -of the public schools had something to live up to. - -Up to this we only had two clay walls to look at. But now our -interminable and tropical walk was lightened by the sight of a British -aeroplane sailing overhead. Numerous shrapnel bursts were all around -it, but she floated on serenely, a thing of delicate beauty against the -blue background. Now another passed--and yet another. All the morning -we saw them circling and swooping, and never a sign of a Boche. They -told me it was nearly always so--that we held the air, and that the -Boche intruder, save at early morning, was a rare bird. “We have never -met a British aeroplane which was not ready to fight,” said a captured -German aviator. There was a fine, stern courtesy between the airmen on -either side, each dropping notes into the other’s aerodromes to tell -the fate of missing officers. Had the whole war been fought by the -Germans as their airmen conducted it (I do not speak, of course, of the -Zeppelin murderers), a peace would eventually have been more easily -arranged. - -And now we were there--in what was surely the most wonderful spot in -the world--the front firing trench, the outer breakwater which held -back the German tide. How strange that this monstrous oscillation -of giant forces, setting in from east to west, should find their -equilibrium across this particular meadow of Flanders. “How far?” I -asked. “One hundred and eighty yards,” said my guide. “Pop!” remarked -a third person just in front. “A sniper,” said my guide; “take a look -through the periscope.” I did so. There was some rusty wire before -me, then a field sloping slightly upwards with knee-deep grass, and -ragged dock and fennel and nettles, then rusty wire again, and a red -line of broken earth. There was not a sign of movement, but sharp eyes -were always watching us, even as these crouching soldiers around me -were watching them. There were dead Germans in the grass before us. -You need not see them to know that they were there. A wounded soldier -sat in a corner nursing his leg. Here and there men popped out like -rabbits from dug-outs and mine-shafts. Others sat on the fire-step or -leaned smoking against the clay wall. Who would dream, who looked at -their bold, careless faces, that this was a front line, and that at any -moment it was possible that a grey wave might submerge them? With all -their careless bearing, I noticed that every man had his gas mask and -his rifle within easy reach. - -A mile of front trenches and then we were on our way back down that -weary walk. Then I was whisked off upon a ten-mile drive. There was a -pause for lunch at Corps Head-quarters, and after it we were taken to -a medal presentation in the market square of Bethune. Generals Munro, -Haking, and Landon, famous fighting soldiers all three, were the -British representatives. Munro, with a ruddy face, all brain above, all -bulldog below; Haking, pale, distinguished, intellectual; Landon, a -pleasant genial country squire. An elderly French General stood beside -them. British infantry kept the ground. In front were about fifty -Frenchmen in civil dress of every grade of life, workmen and gentlemen, -in a double rank. They were all so wounded that they were back in civil -life, but to-day they were to have some solace for their wounds. They -leaned heavily on sticks, their bodies twisted and maimed, but their -faces were shining with pride and joy. The French General drew his -sword and addressed them. One caught words like “honneur” and “patrie.” -They leaned forward on their crutches, hanging on every syllable which -came hissing and rasping from under that heavy white moustache. Then -the medals were pinned on. One poor lad was terribly wounded and needed -two sticks. A little girl ran out with some flowers. He leaned forward -and tried to kiss her, but the crutches slipped and he nearly fell -upon her. It was a pitiful but beautiful little scene. - -Next the British candidates marched up one by one for their medals, -hale, hearty men, brown and fit. There was a smart young officer of -Scottish Rifles; and then a selection of Worcesters, Welsh Fusiliers -and Scots Fusiliers, with one funny little Highlander, a tiny figure -with a soup-bowl helmet, a grinning boy’s face beneath it, and a -bedraggled uniform. “Many acts of great bravery”--such was the record -for which he was decorated. Even the French wounded smiled at his -quaint appearance, as they did at another Briton who had acquired -the chewing-gum habit, and came up for his medal as if he had been -called suddenly in the middle of his dinner, which he was still -endeavouring to bolt. Then came the end, with the National Anthem. The -British battalion formed fours and went past. To me that was the most -impressive sight of any. They were the Queen’s West Surreys, a veteran -battalion of the great Ypres battle. What grand fellows! As the order -came, “Eyes right,” and all those fierce, dark faces flashed round at -us I felt the might of the British infantry, the intense individuality -which is not incompatible with the highest discipline. Much they had -endured, but a great spirit shone from their faces. I confess that as I -looked at those brave English lads, and thought of what we owed to them -and to their like who have passed on, I felt more emotional than befits -a Briton in foreign parts. How many of them are left alive to-day! - -Now the ceremony was ended, and once again we set out for the front. -It was to an artillery observation post just opposite the Loos Salient -that we were bound. In an hour I found myself, together with a -razor-keen young artillery observer and an excellent old sportsman of -a Russian prince, jammed into a very small space, and staring through -a slit at the German lines. In front of us lay a vast plain, scarred -and slashed, with bare places at intervals, such as you see where -gravel pits break a green common. Not a sign of life or movement, save -some wheeling crows. And yet down there, within a mile or so, was the -population of a city. Far away a single train was puffing at the back -of the German lines. We were here on a definite errand. Away to the -right, nearly three miles off, was a small red house, dim to the eye -but clear in the glasses, suspected as a German post. It was to go -up this afternoon. The gun was some distance away, but I heard the -telephone directions. “‘Mother’ will soon do her in,” remarked the -gunner boy cheerfully. “Mother” was the name of the gun. “Give her -five six three four,” he cried through the ’phone. “Mother” uttered -a horrible bellow from somewhere on our right. An enormous spout of -smoke rose ten seconds later from near the house. “A little short,” -said our gunner. “Two and a half minutes left,” added a little small -voice, which represented another observer at a different angle. “Raise -her seven five,” said our boy encouragingly. “Mother” roared more -angrily than ever. “How will that do?” she seemed to say. “One and a -half right,” said our invisible gossip. I wondered how the folk in the -house were feeling as the shells crept ever nearer. “Gun laid, sir,” -said the telephone. “Fire!” I was looking through my glass. A flash of -fire on the house, a huge pillar of dust and smoke--then it settled, -and an unbroken field was there. The German post had gone up. “It’s a -dear little gun,” said the officer boy. “And her shells are reliable,” -remarked a senior behind us. “They vary with different calibres, but -‘Mother’ never goes wrong.” The German line was very quiet. “Pourquoi -ne repondent ils pas?” asked the Russian prince. “Yes, they are quiet -to-day,” answered the senior. “But we get it in the neck sometimes.” -We were all led off to be introduced to “Mother,” who sat, squat and -black, amid twenty of her grimy children who waited upon her and fed -her. A dainty eater was “Mother,” and nothing served her but the best -and plenty of it. But she was important and as the war progressed it -became more and more evident that in spite of that upstart family of -quick-firers it was really the only big, heavy, well-established gun -which could flatten out a road to the Rhine. - -I had the great joy that night of seeing my brother Innes, who had -been promoted to Colonel, and was acting as Assistant Adjutant-General -of the 24th Division, the Head-quarters of which were at Bailleul, -where I dined at mess and occupied a small lodging in the town, which -was about six miles from the front. One more experience wound up that -wonderful day. That night we took a car after dark and drove north, and -ever north, until at a late hour we halted and climbed a hill in the -darkness. Below was a wonderful sight. Down on the flats, in a huge -semicircle, lights were rising and falling. They were very brilliant, -going up for a few seconds and then dying down. Sometimes a dozen were -in the air at one time. There were the dull thuds of explosions and an -occasional rat-tat-tat. I have seen nothing like it, but the nearest -comparison would be an enormous ten-mile railway station in full swing -at night, with signals winking, lamps waving, engines hissing and -carriages bumping. It was a terrible place, a place which will live -as long as military history is written, for it was the Ypres Salient. -What a salient too! A huge curve, as outlined by the lights, needing -only a little more to be an encirclement. Something caught the rope as -it closed, and that something was the British soldier. But it was a -perilous place by day and by night. Never shall I forget the impression -of ceaseless, malignant activity which was borne in upon me by the -white, winking lights, the red sudden flares, and the horrible thudding -noises in that place of death beneath me. - - * * * * * - -In old days we had a great name as organizers. Then came a long period -when we deliberately adopted a policy of individuality and “go as you -please.” Now once again in our sore need we had called on all our power -of administration and direction. And it had not deserted us. We still -had it in a supreme degree. Even in peace time we have shown it in that -vast, well-oiled, swift-running noiseless machine called the British -Navy. But our powers had risen with the need of them. The expansion -of the Navy was a miracle, the management of the transport a greater -one, the formation of the new Army the greatest of all time. To get the -men was the least of the difficulties. To put them in the field, with -everything down to the lid of the last field saucepan in its place, -that was the marvel. The tools of the gunners and of the sappers, to -say nothing of the knowledge of how to use them, were in themselves -a huge problem. But it had all been met and mastered. So don’t let us -talk too much about the muddling of the War Office. It has become just -a little ridiculous. - -I was the guest at Head-quarters of a divisional General, Capper, -brother of the heroic leader of the 7th Division, who might truly be -called one of the two fathers of the British flying force, for it -was he, with Templer, who laid the first foundations from which so -great an organization has arisen. My morning was spent in visiting -two fighting brigadiers, Mitford and Jelf, cheery weather-beaten -soldiers, respectful, as all our soldiers are, of the prowess of the -Hun, but serenely confident that we could beat him. In company with -one of them I ascended a hill, the reverse slope of which was swarming -with cheerful infantry in every stage of _déshabille_, for they were -cleaning up after the trenches. Once over the slope we advanced with -some care, and finally reached a certain spot from which we looked down -upon the German line. It was an observation post, about 1,000 yards -from the German trenches, with our own trenches between us. We could -see the two lines, sometimes only a few yards, as it seemed, apart, -extending for miles on either side. The sinister silence and solitude -were strangely dramatic. Such vast crowds of men, such intensity of -feeling, and yet only that open rolling country-side, with never a -movement in its whole expanse. - -In the afternoon my brother drove me to the Square at Ypres. It was -the city of a dream, this modern Pompeii, destroyed, deserted and -desecrated, but with a sad, proud dignity which made you involuntarily -lower your voice as you passed through the ruined streets. It was -a more considerable place than I had imagined, with many traces of -ancient grandeur. No words can describe the absolute splintered wreck -that the Huns had made of it. The effect of some of the shells had been -grotesque. One boiler-plated water tower, a thing 40 or 50 feet high, -was actually standing on its head like a great metal top. There was not -a living soul in the place save a few pickets of soldiers, and a number -of cats which had become fierce and dangerous. Now and then a shell -still fell, but the Huns probably knew that the devastation was already -complete. - -We stood in the lonely grass-grown Square, once the busy centre of -the town, and we marvelled at the beauty of the smashed cathedral and -the tottering Cloth Hall beside it. Surely at their best they could -not have looked more wonderful. If they were preserved even so, and -if a heaven-inspired artist were to model a statue of Belgium in -front, Belgium with one hand pointing to the treaty by which Prussia -guaranteed her safety and the other to the sacrilege behind her, it -would make the most impressive group in the world. It was an evil day -for Belgium when her frontier was violated, but it was a worse one for -Germany. I venture to prophesy that it will be regarded by history as -the greatest military as well as political error that has ever been -made. Had the great guns that destroyed Liège made their first breach -at Verdun, what chance was there for Paris? Those few weeks of warning -and preparation saved France, and left Germany, like a weary and -furious bull, tethered fast in the place of trespass and waiting for -the inevitable pole-axe. - -We were glad to get out of the place, for the gloom of it lay as heavy -upon our hearts as the shrapnel helmets did upon our heads. Both were -lightened as we sped back past empty and shattered villas to where, -just behind the danger line, the normal life of rural Flanders was -carrying on as usual. A merry sight helped to cheer us, for scudding -down wind above our heads came a Boche aeroplane, with two British at -her tail barking away with their machine guns, like two swift terriers -after a cat. They shot rat-tat-tatting across the sky until we lost -sight of them in the heat haze over the German line. - -The afternoon saw us on the Sharpenburg, from which many a million will -gaze in days to come, for from no other point can so much be seen. It -was a spot forbid, but a special permit took us up, and the sentry on -duty, having satisfied himself of our bona-fides, proceeded to tell us -tales of the war in a pure Hull dialect which might have been Chinese -for all that I could understand. That he was a “Terrier” and had nine -children were the only facts I could lay hold of. But I wished to be -silent and to think--even, perhaps, to pray. Here, just below my feet, -were the spots which our dear lads, three of them my own kith, had -sanctified with their blood. Here, fighting for the freedom of the -world, they cheerily gave their all. On that sloping meadow to the left -of the row of houses on the opposite ridge the London Scottish fought -to the death on that grim November morning when the Bavarians reeled -back from their shot-torn line. That plain away on the other side of -Ypres was the place where the three grand Canadian brigades, first of -all men, stood up to the damnable gases of the Hun. Down yonder was -Hill 60, that blood-soaked kopje. The ridge over the fields was held -by the cavalry against two army corps, and there where the sun struck -the red roof among the trees I could just see Gheluvelt, a name for -ever to be associated with Haig and the most vital battle of the war. -As I turned away I was faced by my Hull Territorial, who still said -incomprehensible things. I looked at him with other eyes. He had fought -on yonder plain. He had slain Huns, and he had nine children. Could any -one better epitomize the duties of a good citizen in days like these? I -could have found it in my heart to salute him had I not known that it -would have shocked him and made him unhappy. - -Next day, it was June 1, I left my brother’s kindly care. I had fears -for him, for he was much overworked and worried as Adjutant-Generals of -busy divisions are likely to be. However, he was never one to admit it -or to pity himself, and he begged me to carry the cheeriest report back -to his wife. It was a great pleasure to me that so many officers took -me aside to say how efficient he was, and how popular. He would not -have wished me to say it were he alive, but I can leave it on record -now. - -Yesterday had been full, but the next day was not less so, for I had -been asked (or ordered) to lunch at the General Head-quarters at -Montreuil, the funny old town on a hill which I had learned to know -well in days of peace. As we drove down a winding drive I saw two -officers walking towards us. The younger of them stooped and beat the -ground with his stick, from which we gathered that we were to go slow -and raise no dust. We rightly conjectured that so curt an order could -only come from the Chief’s own aide. We saluted as we passed and -carried away an impression of a heavy moustache and of abstracted blue -eyes. - -I had a very much more definite impression when he came back presently, -and we were all shown into the dining room. I should certainly put -Douglas Haig, as I saw him that day, among the handsomest men I have -ever known. He was not tall, but he was upright and well proportioned -with every sign of strength and activity. But his face was remarkable -for beauty and power. His eyes were very full and expressive, devoid of -the fierceness of Kitchener and yet with quite as much determination. -But the long powerful jaw was the feature which spoke particularly of -that never-to-be-beaten quality which saved the army when the line was -broken in the first Ypres battle and was destined to save it again in -April, 1918, when he gave out his “back to the wall” order of the day. - -He was courteous but not talkative at lunch. After lunch he took me -into a side room where he showed me the line of the divisions on the -map, saying that I could remember but should not take notes, which -was rather maddening. Then we had a long talk over the coffee, but -there were several present and nothing intimate was said. He must be -worried to death with casual visitors, but still I suppose he need not -invite all of them to Head-quarters. He had, I thought, a truly British -distrust of foreigners. “He is the worst foreigner I have met yet,” he -said, speaking of some Italian General. His kind heart was shown when I -said that my son was in the line. He gave a curt order, and then nodded -and smiled. “You’ll see him to-morrow,” said he. - -I naturally heard a good deal about our Generalissimo, besides what I -actually saw. I think that he had some of the traits of Wellington, -though since the war he has concerned himself with the fortunes of -his comrades-in-arms a great deal more than the Iron Duke seems ever -to have troubled himself to do. But in other things the parallel is -close. Haig is not a game-playing man, though fond of horse exercise. -Neither was the Duke. Both were abstemious with wine and tobacco. Both -were reserved, reticent and had no magnetic connection with those under -them. Neither Haig nor the Duke were human figures to the soldiers, -nor were they often if ever seen by them, and yet in each case there -was the same confidence in their judgment. Haig was a very serious man, -he seldom joked and did not meet a joke half way, so that his mess -was the dullest in France. I have known a staff officer apply for an -exchange so weary was he of this oppressive atmosphere. All this could -equally have been said of the Duke. But these are trivialities compared -to the great main fact that each brought rare qualities to the service -of their country at critical moments of the world’s history. There was -only one other man who might have filled Haig’s place, and that man was -the conqueror of Palestine. - -Extraordinary are the contrasts of war. Within three hours of leaving -the quiet atmosphere of the Head-quarters Château I was present at what -in any other war would have been looked upon as a brisk engagement. -As it was it would certainly figure in one of our desiccated reports -as an activity of the artillery. The noise as we struck the line at -this new point showed that the matter was serious, and indeed we had -chosen the spot because it had been the storm centre of the last week. -The method of approach chosen by our experienced guide was in itself -a tribute to the gravity of the affair. As one comes from the settled -order of Flanders into the actual scene of war, the first sign of it -is one of the stationary, sausage-shaped balloons, a chain of which -marks the ring in which the great wrestlers are locked. We passed under -this, ascended a hill, and found ourselves in a garden where for a -year no feet save those of wanderers like ourselves had stood. There -was a wild, confused luxuriance of growth more beautiful to my eye -than anything which the care of man can produce. One old shell-hole -of vast diameter had filled itself with forget-me-nots, and appeared -as a graceful basin of light blue flowers, held up as an atonement to -Heaven for the brutalities of man. Through the tangled bushes we crept, -then across a yard--“Please stoop and run as you pass this point”--and -finally to a small opening in a wall, whence the battle lay not so much -before as beside us. For a moment we had a front seat at the great -world-drama, God’s own problem play, working surely to its magnificent -end. One felt a sort of shame to crouch here in comfort, a useless -spectator, while brave men down yonder were facing that pelting shower -of iron. - -There was a large field on our left rear, and the German gunners -had the idea that there was a concealed battery therein. They were -systematically searching for it. A great shell exploded in the top -corner, but got nothing more solid than a few tons of clay. You could -read the mind of Gunner Fritz. “Try the lower corner!” said he, and up -went the earth-cloud once again. “Perhaps it’s hid about the middle. -I’ll try.” Earth again, and nothing more. “I believe I was right the -first time after all,” said hopeful Fritz. So another shell came -into the top corner. The field was full of pits as a Gruyère cheese, -but Fritz got nothing by his perseverance. Perhaps there never was -a battery there at all. One effect he obviously did attain. He made -several other British batteries exceedingly angry. “Stop that tickling, -Fritz!” was the burden of their cry. Where they were we could no more -see than Fritz could, but their constant work was very clear along the -German line. We appeared to be using more shrapnel and the Germans more -high explosives, but that may have been just the chance of the day. The -Vimy Ridge was on our right, and before us was the old French position, -with the Labyrinth of terrible memories and the long hill of Lorette. -When, the year before last, the French, in a three weeks’ battle, -fought their way up that hill, it was an exhibition of sustained -courage which even their military annals can seldom have beaten. - -[Illustration: KINGSLEY CONAN DOYLE.] - -Next day we travelled through Acheux and hit the British line once -more to the east of that place. Our official chauffeur had had his -instructions, and so had other people, with the result that as we swung -into the broad main street of a village--Mailly, I think, was the -name--there was a tall young officer standing with his back turned. -He swung round at the noise of the car, and it was my boy Kingsley -with his usual jolly grin upon his weather-stained features. The long -arm of G.H.Q. had stretched out and plucked him out of a trench, and -there he was. We had an hour’s talk in a field, for there was nowhere -else to go. He was hard and well and told me that all was nearly ready -for a big push at the very part of the line where his battalion, the -1st Hampshires, was stationed. This was the first intimation of -the great Somme battle, on the first day of which every officer of -the Hampshires without exception was killed or wounded. I learned -afterwards that before the battle for ten nights running Kingsley -crept out to the German wire and stuck up crosses, where he found the -wire uncut, which were brown towards the enemy and white towards the -British, as a guide to the gunners. He lay on his face sometimes with -the machine guns firing just above him. For this service Colonel Palk -thanked him warmly and said he should certainly have a decoration, but -Palk and both majors were killed and no recommendations went forward. -Two shrapnel bullets in the neck were all Kingsley got out of the -battle, and two months on his back in a hospital. However, he was not -a medal hunter and I never heard him complain, nor would he wear his -wound badges until he was compelled. - -An hour later I met another member of my household, for my Secretary, -Major Wood of the 5th Sussex Territorials, was Town Major of -Beauquesne, where I found him at the convenient hour of lunch. He had -done nearly two years of hard active service, which was pretty good for -a civilian of fifty, and had led his company at Festubert and other -engagements. He was now using his excellent powers of organization -and administration in making Beauquesne a well-ordered village, as -later he made Doullens a well-ordered town. I expect that the British -administration will remain as a wonderful legend of sanitation and -cleanliness in many of these French towns of the North-East. - -After inspecting Major Wood’s work I went on to Amiens with him and he -packed me into the train to Paris, the first part of my task thoroughly -done so far as time would permit. I came away with a deep sense of the -difficult task which lay before the Army, but with an equally deep one -of the ability of those men to do all that soldiers can be called upon -to perform. But I saw no end to the war. - -I had two days in Paris--a very dead and alive Paris, such a Paris -as has seldom or never been seen before, with darkened streets and -the shops nearly all closed. I stayed at the Hotel Crillon, where -were a few Russian and British officers. It was extraordinary the -difference which the public made between the two. A British officer -was disregarded, while a Russian General--I took a walk with one--was -looked upon with an adulation which was quite comic. Men came up and -made a low obeisance before him. And yet it was our Army, our purse, -our factories, above all our Navy, which were saving the situation -both for France and Russia, to whom we were bound by no alliance. -There was certainly not much sign of appreciation or gratitude. It is -a very singular thing how the whole world alternately leans upon and -depreciates the British Empire. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -EXPERIENCES ON THE ITALIAN FRONT - - The Polite Front--Udine--Under Fire--Carnic Alps--Italia - Irredenta--Trentino--The Voice of the Holy Roman Empire. - - -Two days later I found myself, after an uneventful journey, at Padua -on my way to the Italian front. The Italian front seemed to have -politely come back to meet me, for I was awakened in the night by a -tremendous dropping of bombs, with the rattle of anti-aircraft guns. -I thought I was as safe in bed as anywhere, and so it proved. Little -damage was done, but Padua and the other Italian cities were having a -bad time, and it was a one-sided arrangement, since the Italians can do -nothing without injuring their own kith and kin across the border. This -dropping of explosives on the chance of hitting one soldier among fifty -victims was surely the most monstrous development of the whole war, and -was altogether German in its origin. If international law cannot now -stamp it out, the next war will send the people flying to the caves and -calling upon the mountains to cover them, even as was foretold. - -I arrived at last at Udine, the capital of the Friulian Province, -where were the Italian Head-quarters--a funny little town with a huge -mound in the centre, which looked too big to be artificial, but was -said to have been thrown up by Attila. My recommendation was to the -British Mission, which was headed by Brig.-General Delme-Radcliffe, -a bluff, short-spoken and masterful British soldier, who received -me with hospitality. The Mission owned a white house on the edge of -the town. On the second floor under a window which proved to be that -of my bedroom there was a long dark smear on the whitewashed wall. -“That’s the stomach of a baker,” said the soldier-servant with a grin. -I thought it was a joke on his part, but it was literally true, for -a bomb a few days before had blown the man to bits as he passed the -house, and had plastered bits of him on the stonework. The ceiling of -my bedroom was full of holes from that or some other explosion. - -There was some tendency at this time to cavil at the Italians and to -wonder why they did not make more impression upon the Austrians. As a -matter of fact they were faced by the same barbed wire and machine-gun -problem which had held up every one else. I soon saw, when I was -allowed next morning to get to the front, that the conditions were -very like those of Flanders in a more genial climate and in all ways -less aggravated. I had been handed over to the Italian Intelligence -people, who were represented by a charmingly affable nobleman, Colonel -the Marquis Barbariche, and Colonel Claricetti. These two introduced -me at once to General Porro, chief of the Staff, a brown, wrinkled, -walnut-faced warrior, who showed me some plans and did what he could to -be helpful. - -It was about a seven miles drive from Udine before we reached the -nearest point of the trenches. From a mound an extraordinary view could -be got of the Austrian position, the general curve of both lines being -marked, as in Flanders, by the sausage balloons which float behind -them. The Isonzo, which had been so bravely carried by the Italians, -lay in front of me, a clear blue river, as broad as the Thames at -Hampton Court. In a hollow to my left were the roofs of Gorizia, the -town which the Italians were endeavouring to take. A long desolate -ridge, the Carso, extended to the south of the town, and stretched -down nearly to the sea. The crest was held by the Austrians, and the -Italian trenches had been pushed within fifty yards of them. A lively -bombardment was going on from either side, but so far as the infantry -went there was none of that constant malignant petty warfare with -which we were familiar in Flanders. I was anxious to see the Italian -trenches, in order to compare them with our British methods, but save -for the support and communication trenches I was courteously but firmly -warned off. - -Having got this general view of the position, I was anxious in the -afternoon to visit Monfalcone, which is the small dockyard captured -from the Austrians on the Adriatic. My kind Italian officer guides did -not recommend the trip, as it was part of their great hospitality to -shield their guest from any part of that danger which they were always -ready to incur themselves. The only road to Monfalcone ran close to -the Austrian position at the village of Ronchi, and afterwards kept -parallel to it for some miles. I was told that it was only on odd -days that the Austrian guns were active in this particular section, -so determined to trust to luck that this might not be one of them. It -proved, however, to be one of the worst on record, and we were not -destined to see the dockyard to which we started. - -The civilian cuts a ridiculous figure when he enlarges upon small -adventures which may come his way--adventures which the soldier endures -in silence as part of his everyday life. On this occasion, however, the -episode was all our own, and had a sporting flavour in it which made -it dramatic. I know now the feeling of tense expectation with which -the driven grouse whirrs onwards towards the butt. I have been behind -the butt before now, and it is only poetic justice that I should see -the matter from the other point of view. As we approached Ronchi we -could see shrapnel breaking over the road in front of us, but we had -not yet realized that it was precisely for vehicles that the Austrians -were waiting, and that they had the range marked down to a yard. We -went down the road all out at a steady fifty miles an hour. The village -was near, and it seemed that we had got past the place of danger. We -had, in fact, just reached it. At this moment there was a noise as if -the whole four tyres had gone simultaneously, a most terrific bang in -our very ears, merging into a second sound like a reverberating blow -upon an enormous gong. As I glanced up I saw three clouds immediately -above my head, two of them white and the other of a rusty red. The air -was full of flying metal, and the road, as we were told afterwards by -an observer, was all churned up by it. The metal base of one of the -shells was found plumb in the middle of the road just where our motor -had been. It was our pace that saved us. The motor was an open one, and -the three shells burst, according to one of my Italian companions, who -was himself an artillery officer, about ten metres above our heads. -They threw forward, however, and we, travelling at so great a pace, -shot from under. Before they could get in another we had swung round -the curve and under the lee of a house. The good Colonel wrung my hand -in silence. They were both distressed, these good soldiers, under the -impression that they had led me into danger. As a matter of fact it -was I who owed them an apology, since they had enough risks in the way -of business without taking others in order to gratify the whim of a -visitor. - -Our difficulties were by no means over. We found an ambulance lorry -and a little group of infantry huddled under the same shelter, with -the expression of people who had been caught in the rain. The road -beyond was under heavy fire as well as that by which we had come. Had -the Ostro-Boches dropped a high explosive upon us they would have had -a good mixed bag. But apparently they were only out for fancy shooting -and disdained a sitter. Presently there came a lull and the lorry moved -on, but we soon heard a burst of firing which showed that they were -after it. My companions had decided that it was out of the question for -us to finish our excursion. We waited for some time, therefore, and -were able finally to make our retreat on foot, being joined later by -the car. So ended my visit to Monfalcone, the place I did not reach. I -hear that two 10,000-ton steamers were left on the stocks there by the -Austrians, but were disabled before they retired. Their cabin basins -and other fittings were adorning the Italian dug-outs. - -My second day was devoted to a view of the Italian mountain warfare -in the Carnic Alps. Besides the two great fronts, one of defence -(Trentino) and one of offence (Isonzo), there were very many smaller -valleys which had to be guarded. The total frontier line is over 400 -miles, and it had all to be held against raids if not invasions. It -was a most picturesque business. Far up in the Roccolana Valley I -found the Alpini outposts, backed by artillery which had been brought -into the most wonderful positions. They had taken 8-inch guns where a -tourist could hardly take his knapsack. Neither side could ever make -serious progress, but there were continual duels, gun against gun, -or Alpini against Jaeger. In a little wayside house was the brigade -Head-quarters, and here I was entertained to lunch. It was a scene that -I shall remember. They drank to England. I raised my glass to _Italia -irredenta_--might it soon be redenta. They all sprang to their feet -and the circle of dark faces flashed into flame. They keep their souls -and emotions, these people. I trust that ours may not become atrophied -by self-suppression. - -The last day spent on the Italian front was in the Trentino. From -Verona a motor drive of about twenty-five miles takes one up the valley -of the Adige, and past a place of evil augury for the Austrians, the -field of Rivoli. Finally, after a long drive of winding gradients, -always beside the Adige, we reached Ala, where we interviewed the -Commander of the sector, a man who has done splendid work during the -recent fighting. “By all means you can see my front. But no motor car, -please. It draws fire, and others may be hit besides you.” We proceeded -on foot, therefore, along a valley which branched at the end into two -passes. In both very active fighting had been going on, and as we came -up the guns were baying merrily, waking up most extraordinary echoes -in the hills. It was difficult to believe that it was not thunder. -There was one terrible voice that broke out from time to time in the -mountains--the angry voice of the Holy Roman Empire. When it came all -other sounds died down into nothing. It was--so I was told--the master -gun, the vast 42-centimetre giant which brought down the pride of Liège -and Namur. The Austrians had brought one or more from Innsbruck. The -Italians assure me, however, as we have ourselves discovered, that in -trench work beyond a certain point the size of the guns makes little -matter. - -We passed a burst dug-out by the roadside where a tragedy had occurred -recently, for eight medical officers were killed in it by a single -shell. There was no particular danger in the valley, however, and the -aimed fire was all going across us to the fighting lines in the two -passes above us. That to the right, the Valley of Buello, has seen some -of the worst of the fighting. These two passes form the Italian left -wing which has held firm all through. So has the right wing. It is only -the centre which has been pushed in by the concentrated fire. - -When we arrived at the spot where the two valleys forked we were -halted, and were not permitted to advance to the front trenches which -lay upon the crests above us. There were about 1,000 yards between -the adversaries. I have seen types of some of the Bosnian and Croatian -prisoners, men of poor physique and intelligence, but the Italians -speak with chivalrous praise of the bravery of the Hungarians and of -the Austrian Jaeger. Some of their proceedings disgusted them, however, -and especially the fact that they used Russian prisoners to dig -trenches under fire. There is no doubt of this, as some of the men were -recaptured and were sent on to join their comrades in France. On the -whole, however, it may be said that in the Austro-Italian war there was -nothing which corresponded with the extreme bitterness of our Western -conflict. The presence or absence of the Hun makes all the difference. - -It was a moment of depression at the Trentino front, as there had been -a set back. I may flatter myself when I think that even one solitary -figure in a British uniform striding about them was good at that -particular time to their eyes. They read of allies, but they never saw -any. If they had, we might have been spared the subsequent disaster at -Caporetto. Certainly I was heartily welcomed there, and surrounded all -the time by great mobs of soldiers, who imagined, I suppose, that I was -some one of importance. - -That night found me back at Verona, and next morning I was on my way -to Paris with sheaves of notes about the Italian soldiers which would, -I hoped, make the British public more sympathetic towards them. I was -told afterwards by the Foreign Office that my mission had been an -unmixed success. - -I have one other association with the Italian front which I may include -here. It is embalmed in the Annals of the Psychic Research Society. -I have several times in my life awakened from sleep with some strong -impressions of knowledge gained still lingering in my brain. In one -case, for example, I got the strange name Nalderu so vividly that I -wrote it down between two stretches of insensibility and found it on -the outside of my cheque book next morning. A month later I started -for Australia in the S.S. _Naldera_ of which I had then never heard. -In this particular Italian instance I got the word Piave, absolutely -ringing in my head. I knew it as a river some seventy miles to the -rear of the Italian front and quite unconnected with the war. None the -less the impression was so strong that I wrote the incident down and -had it signed by two witnesses. Months passed and the Italian battle -line was rolled back to the Piave, which became a familiar word. Some -said it would go back further. I was sure it would not. I argued that -if the abnormal forces, whatever they may be, had taken such pains -to impress the matter upon me, it must needs be good news which they -were conveying, since I had needed cheering at the time. Therefore I -felt sure that some great victory and the turning point of the war -would come on the Piave. So sure was I that I wrote to my friend Mr. -Lacon Watson, who was on the Italian front, and the incident got into -the Italian press. It could have nothing but a good effect upon their -morale. Finally it is a matter of history how completely my impression -was justified, and how the most shattering victory of the whole war was -gained at that very spot. - -There is the fact, amply proved by documents and beyond all possible -coincidence. As to the explanation some may say that our own -subconscious self has power of foresight. If so it is a singularly dead -instinct, seldom or never used. Others may say that our “dead” can see -further than we, and try when we are asleep and in spiritual touch with -us, to give us knowledge and consolation. The latter is my own solution -of the mystery. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -EXPERIENCES ON THE FRENCH FRONT - - A Dreadful Reception--Robert Donald--Clemenceau--Soissons - Cathedral--The Commandant’s Cane--The Extreme Outpost--Adonis--General - Henneque--Cyrano in the Argonne--Tir Rapide--French Canadian--Wound - Stripes. - - -When I got back to Paris I had a dreadful reception, for as I -dismounted from the railway car a British military policeman in his -flat red cap stepped up to me and saluted. - -“This is bad news, sir,” said he. - -“What is it?” I gasped. - -“Lord Kitchener, sir. Drowned!” - -“Good God!” I cried. - -“Yes, sir.” Suddenly the machine turned for a moment into a human -being. “Too much talking in this war,” he said, and then in a moment -was his stiff formal self again, and bustled off in search of deserters. - -Kitchener dead! The words were like clods falling on my heart. One -could not imagine him dead, that centre of energy and vitality. With -a heavy spirit I drove back to my old quarters at the Hotel Crillon, -fuller than ever of red-epauletted, sword-clanking Russians. I could -have cursed them, for it was in visiting their rotten, crumbling -country that our hero had met his end. - -At the hotel I met by appointment Mr. Robert Donald, editor of the -“Daily Chronicle,” which paper had been publishing my articles. Donald, -a fine, solid Scot, had the advantage of talking good French and being -in thorough touch with French conditions. With him I called upon M. -Clemenceau, who had not at that time played any conspicuous part in the -war, save as a violent critic. He lived modestly in a small house which -showed that he had not used his power in the State and in journalism -to any unfair personal advantage. He entered, a swarthy, wrinkled, -white-haired man, with the face of a crabbed bulldog, and a cloth cap -upon his head. He reminded me of old “Jem” Mace the bruiser, as I -remember him in his final phase. His eyes looked angry, and he had a -truculent, mischievous smile. I was not impressed by the judgment he -showed in our conversation, if a squirt on one side and Niagara on the -other can be called conversation. He was railing loudly at the English -rate of exchange between the franc and the pound, which seemed to me -very like kicking against the barometer. Mr. Donald, who is a real -authority upon finance, asked him whether France was taking the rouble -at its face value; but the roaring voice, like a strong gramophone with -a blunt needle, submerged all argument. Against Joffre he roared his -reproaches, and intimated that he had some one else up his sleeve who -could very soon bring the war to an end. A volcano of a man, dangerous -sometimes to his friends, and sometimes to his foes. Let me acknowledge -that I did not at the time recognize that he would ever be the opposite -number to Lloyd George, and that the pair would lead us to victory. - -Donald had arranged that he and I should visit the French lines in the -Argonne, which was as near as we could get to Verdun, where the battle -was at its height. There were a few days to spare, however, and in the -meantime I got a chance of going to the Soissons front, along with Leo -Maxse, editor of the “National Review,” and a M. Chevillon, who had -written an excellent book on British co-operation in the war. Maxse, a -dark little man, all nerves and ginger, might well plume himself that -he was one of those who had foreseen the war and most loudly demanded -preparation. Chevillon was a grey-bearded father-of-a-family type, and -could speak English, which promoted our closer acquaintance, as my -French is adventurous but not always successful. A captain of French -Intelligence, a small, silent man, took the fourth place in the car. - -When our posterity hear that it was easy to run out from Paris to the -line, to spend a full day on the line, and to be back again in Paris -for dinner, it will make them appreciate how close a thing was the war. -We passed in the first instance the Woods of Villars Cotteret, where -the Guards had turned upon the German van on September 1, 1914. Eighty -Guardsmen were buried in the village cemetery, among them a nephew of -Maxse’s, to whose tomb we now made pious pilgrimage. Among the trees -on either side of the road I noticed other graves of soldiers, buried -where they had fallen. - -Soissons proved to be a considerable wreck, though it was far from -being an Ypres. But the cathedral would, and will, make many a -patriotic Frenchman weep. These savages cannot keep their hands off -a beautiful church. Here, absolutely unchanged through the ages, was -the spot where St. Louis had dedicated himself to the Crusade. Every -stone of it was holy. And now the lovely old stained-glass strewed the -floor, and the roof lay in a huge heap across the central aisle. A dog -was climbing over it as we entered. No wonder the French fought well. -Such sights would drive the mildest man to desperation. The abbé, a -good priest, with a large humorous face, took us over his shattered -domain. When I pointed out the desecration of the dog he shrugged his -shoulders and said: “What matter? It will have to be reconsecrated, -anyhow.” He connived at my gathering up some splinters of the rich old -stained-glass as souvenirs for my wife. He was full of reminiscences of -the German occupation of the place. One of his personal anecdotes was -indeed marvellous. It was that a lady in the local ambulance had vowed -to kiss the first French soldier who re-entered the town. She did so, -and it proved to be her husband. The abbé was a good, kind, truthful -man--but he had a humorous face. - -A walk down a ruined street brought one to the opening of the -trenches. There were marks upon the walls of the German occupation, -“Berlin-Paris,” with an arrow of direction, adorning one corner. At -another the 76th Regiment had commemorated the fact that they were -there in 1870 and again in 1914. If the Soissons folk are wise, they -will keep these inscriptions as reminders to the rising generation. I -could imagine, however, that their inclination will be to whitewash, -fumigate, and forget. - -A sudden turn among some broken walls took one into the communication -trench. Our guide was a Commandant of the Staff, a tall, thin man with -hard, grey eyes and a severe face. It was the more severe towards us, -as I gathered that he had been deluded into the belief that only about -one out of six of our soldiers went to the trenches. For the moment -he was not friends with the English. As we went along, however, we -gradually got on better terms, we discovered a twinkle in the hard, -grey eyes, and the day ended with an exchange of walking-sticks between -him and me and a renewal of the Entente. May my cane grow into a -marshal’s baton! - -A charming young artillery subaltern was our guide in that maze of -trenches, and we walked and walked and walked, with a brisk exchange -of compliments between the “75’s” of the French and the “77’s” of the -Germans going on high over our heads. The trenches were boarded at the -sides, and had a more permanent look than those of Flanders. Presently -we met a fine, brown-faced, upstanding boy, as keen as a razor, who -commanded this particular section. A little farther on a helmeted -captain of infantry, who was an expert sniper, joined our little party. -Now we were at the very front trench. I had expected to see primeval -men, bearded and shaggy. But the “Poilus” have disappeared. The men -around me were clean and dapper to a remarkable degree. I gathered, -however, that they had their internal difficulties. On one board I read -an old inscription: “He is a Boche, but he is the inseparable companion -of a French soldier.” Above was a rude drawing of a louse. - -I was led to a cunning loop-hole, and had a glimpse through it of a -little framed picture of French countryside. There were fields, a road, -a sloping hill beyond with trees. Quite close, about thirty or forty -yards away, was a low, red-tiled house. “They are there,” said our -guide. “That is their outpost. We can hear them cough.” Only the guns -were coughing that morning, so we heard nothing; but it was certainly -wonderful to be so near to the enemy and yet in such peace. I suppose -wondering visitors from Berlin were brought up also to hear the French -cough. Modern warfare has certainly some extraordinary sides. - -Then we were shown all the devices which a year of experience -had suggested to the quick brains of our Allies. Every form of -bomb, catapult, and trench mortar was ready to hand. Every method -of cross-fire had been thought out to an exact degree. There was -something, however, about the disposition of a machine gun which -disturbed the Commandant. He called for the officer of the gun. His -thin lips got thinner and his grey eyes more austere as we waited. -Presently there emerged an extraordinarily handsome youth, dark as -a Spaniard, from some rabbit hole. He faced the Commandant bravely, -and answered back with respect but firmness. “Pourquoi?” asked the -Commandant, and yet again “Pourquoi?” Adonis had an answer for -everything. Both sides appealed to the big captain of snipers, who -was clearly embarrassed. He stood on one leg and scratched his chin. -Finally the Commandant turned away angrily in the midst of one of -Adonis’ voluble sentences. His face showed that the matter was not -ended. War is taken very seriously in the French Army, and any sort of -professional mistake is very quickly punished. Many officers of high -rank had been broken by the French during the war. There was no more -forgiveness for the beaten General than there was in the days of the -Republic when the delegate of the National Convention, with a patent -portable guillotine, used to drop in at Head-quarters to support a more -vigorous offensive. - -It had come on to rain heavily, and we were forced to take refuge in -the dug-out of the sniper. Eight of us sat in the deep gloom huddled -closely together. The Commandant was still harping upon that ill-placed -machine gun. He could not get over it. My imperfect ear for French -could not follow all his complaints, but some defence of the offender -brought forth a “Jamais! Jamais! Jamais!” which was rapped out as if -it came from the gun itself. There were eight of us in an underground -burrow, and some were smoking. Better a deluge than such an atmosphere -as that. But if there was a thing upon earth which the French officer -shied at it was rain and mud. The reason is that he was extraordinarily -natty in his person. His charming blue uniform, his facings, his brown -gaiters, boots and belts were always just as smart as paint. He was -the dandy of the European War. I noticed officers in the trenches with -their trousers carefully pressed. - -[Illustration: ON THE FRENCH FRONT. - -_From Left_: “CYRANO”; A. CONAN DOYLE; MR. ROBERT DONALD; GENERAL -HENNEQUE.] - -The rain had now stopped, and we climbed from our burrow. Again we were -led down that endless line of communication trench, again we stumbled -through the ruins, again we emerged into the street where our cars -were awaiting us. Above our heads the sharp artillery duel was going -merrily forward. The French were firing three or four to one, which had -been my experience at every point I had touched upon the Allied front. -Thanks to the extraordinary zeal of the French workers, especially of -the French women, and to the clever adoption of machinery by their -engineers, their supplies were abundant. - -Our next expedition carried us to Chalons, where the Huns of old met -disaster. From Chalons we drove some twenty miles to St. Menehould, -and learned that the trenches were about ten miles north. On this -expedition there were Donald and I with an extraordinary Spaniard, -half Don Quixote, half Gipsy troubadour, flat hatted and clad in brown -corduroy, with a single arm, having, as we heard, lost the other in -some broil. As he spoke no tongue but his own we were never on terms -with him. - -The front at the sector which we struck was under the control of -General Henneque of the 10th Division. A fine soldier this, and Heaven -help Germany if he and his division had invaded it, for he was, as one -could see at a glance, a man of iron who had been goaded to fierceness -by all that his beloved country had endured. He was a man of middle -size, swarthy, hawk-like, very abrupt in his movements, with two -steel-grey eyes, which were the most searching that mine have ever met. -His hospitality and courtesy to us were beyond all bounds, but there is -another side to him, and it is one which it were wiser not to provoke. -In person he took us to his lines, passing through the usual shot-torn -villages behind them. Where the road dipped down into the great forest -there was one particular spot which was visible to the German artillery -observers. The General mentioned it at the time, but his remark seemed -to have no personal interest. We understood it better on our return in -the evening. - -We then found ourselves in the depths of the woods--primeval woods -of oak and beech in the deep clay soil that the great oak loves. -There had been rain, and the forest paths were ankle deep in mire. -Everywhere, to right and left, soldiers’ faces, hard and rough from -a year of open air, gazed up at us from their burrows in the ground. -Presently an alert, blue-clad figure, stood in the path to greet us. -It was the Colonel of the sector. He was ridiculously like Cyrano -de Bergerac as depicted by the late M. Coquelin, save that his nose -was of more moderate proportion. The ruddy colouring, the bristling, -feline, full-ended moustache, the solidity of pose, the backward tilt -of the head, the general suggestion of the bantam cock, were all there -facing us as he stood amid the leaves in the sunlight. Gauntlets and -a long rapier--nothing else was wanting. Something had amused Cyrano. -His moustache quivered with suppressed mirth and his blue eyes were -demurely gleaming. Then the joke came out. He had spotted a German -working-party, his guns had concentrated on it, and afterwards he had -seen the stretchers go forward. A grim joke, it may seem. But the -French saw this war from a different angle to us. If we had had the -Boche sitting on our heads for two years, and were not quite sure -whether we could ever get him off again, we should get Cyrano’s point -of view. - -We passed in a little procession among the French soldiers, and viewed -their multifarious arrangements. For them we were a little break -in a monotonous life, and they formed up in lines as we passed. My -own British uniform and the civilian dresses of my two companions -interested them. As the General passed these groups, who formed -themselves up in perhaps a more familiar manner than would have -been usual in the British service, he glanced kindly at them with -those singular eyes of his, and once or twice addressed them as “Mes -enfants.” One might conceive that all was “go as you please” among -the French. So it was as long as you went in the right way. When you -strayed from it you knew it. As we passed a group of men standing on a -low ridge which overlooked us there was a sudden stop. I gazed round. -The General’s face was steel and cement. The eyes were cold and yet -fiery, sunlight upon icicles. Something had happened. Cyrano had sprung -to his side. His reddish moustache had shot forward beyond his nose, -and it bristled out like that of an angry cat. Both were looking up -at the group above us. One wretched man detached himself from his -comrades and sidled down the slope. No skipper and mate of a Yankee -blood boat could have looked more ferociously at a mutineer. And yet -it was all over some minor breach of discipline which was summarily -disposed of by two days of confinement. Then in an instant the faces -relaxed, there was a general buzz of relief, and we were back at “Mes -enfants” again. - -Trenches are trenches, and the main specialty of those in the Argonne -were that they were nearer to the enemy. In fact, there were places -where they interlocked, and where the advanced posts lay cheek by jowl -with a good steel plate to cover both cheek and jowl. We were brought -to a sap-head where the Germans were at the other side of a narrow -forest road. Had I leaned forward with extended hand and a Boche done -the same we could have touched. I looked across, but saw only a tangle -of wire and sticks. Even whispering was not permitted in those forward -posts. - -When we emerged from these hushed places of danger Cyrano took us all -to his dug-out, which was a tasty little cottage carved from the side -of a hill and faced with logs. He did the honours of the humble cabin -with the air of a seigneur in his château. There was little furniture, -but from some broken mansion he had extracted an iron fire-back, which -adorned his grate. It was a fine, mediæval bit of work, with Venus, in -her traditional costume, in the centre of it. It seemed the last touch -in the picture of the gallant virile Cyrano. I only met him this once, -nor shall I ever see him again, yet he stands a thing complete within -my memory. Always in the cinema of memory he will walk the leafy paths -of the Argonne, his fierce eyes searching for the Boche workers, his -red moustache bristling over their annihilation. He seems a figure out -of the past of France. - -That night we dined with yet another type of the French soldier, -General Antoine, who commanded the corps of which my friend had one -division. Each of these French generals had a striking individuality of -his own which I wish I could fix upon paper. Their only common point -was that each seemed to be a rare good soldier. The Corps General -was Athos with a touch of d’Artagnan. He was well over 6 feet high, -bluff, jovial, with huge, upcurling moustache, and a voice that would -rally a regiment. It was a grand figure, which should have been done -by Van Dyck, with lace collar, hand on sword, and arm akimbo. Jovial -and laughing was he, but a stern and hard soldier was lurking behind -the smiles. His name has appeared in history, and so has Humbert’s, -who ruled all the army of which the other corps is a unit. Humbert was -a Lord Roberts figure, small, wiry, quick-stepping, all steel and -elastic, with a short, upturned moustache, which one could imagine as -crackling with electricity in moments of excitement like a cat’s fur. -What he does or says is quick, abrupt, and to the point. He fires his -remarks like pistol shots at this man or that. Once to my horror he -fixed me with his hard little eyes and demanded; “Sherlock Holmes, -est ce qu’il est un soldat dans l’armée Anglaise?” The whole table -waited in an awful hush. “Mais, mon general,” I stammered, “il est trop -vieux pour service.” There was general laughter, and I felt that I had -scrambled out of an awkward place. - -And talking of awkward places, I had forgotten about that spot upon -the road whence the Boche observer could see our motor-cars. He had -actually laid a gun upon it, the rascal, and waited all the long day -for our return. No sooner did we appear upon the slope than a shrapnel -shell burst above us, but somewhat behind me, as well as to the left. -Had it been straight the second car would have got it, and there might -have been a vacancy in one of the chief editorial chairs in London. The -General shouted to the driver to speed up, and we were soon safe from -the German gunners. One got perfectly immune to noises in these scenes, -for the guns which surrounded you made louder crashes than any shell -which burst about you. It is only when you actually saw the cloud over -you that your thoughts came back to yourself, and that you realized -that in this wonderful drama you might be a useless super, but none the -less you were on the stage and not in the stalls. - -Next morning we were down in the front trenches again at another -portion of the line. Far away on our right, from a spot named the -Observatory, we could see the extreme left of the Verdun position and -shells bursting on the Fille Morte. To the north of us was a broad -expanse of sunny France, nestling villages, scattered châteaux, rustic -churches, and all as inaccessible as if it were the moon. It was a -terrible thing this German bar--a thing unthinkable to Britons. To -stand on the edge of Yorkshire and look into Lancashire feeling that -it was in other hands, that our fellow-countrymen were suffering there -and waiting, waiting for help, and that we could not, after two years, -come a yard nearer to them--would it not break our hearts? Could I -wonder that there was no smile upon the grim faces of those Frenchmen! -But when the bar was broken, when the line swept forward, when French -bayonets gleamed on those uplands and French flags broke from those -village spires--ah, what a day that was! Men died that day from the -pure delirious joy of it. - -Yet another type of French General took us round this morning! He, too, -was a man apart, an unforgettable man. Conceive a man with a large, -broad, good-humoured face, and two placid, dark, seal’s eyes which -gazed gently into yours. He was young, and had pink cheeks and a soft -voice. Such was one of the most redoubtable fighters of France, this -General of Division Dupont. His former Staff officers told me something -of the man. He was a philosopher, a fatalist, impervious to fear, a -dreamer of distant dreams amid the most furious bombardment. The weight -of the French assault upon the terrible Labyrinth fell at one time -upon the brigade which he then commanded. He led them day after day -gathering up Germans with the detached air of the man of science who -is hunting for specimens. In whatever shell-hole he might chance to -lunch he had his cloth spread and decorated with wild flowers plucked -from the edge. I wrote of him at the time: “If Fate be kind to him, he -will go far.” As a matter of fact, before the end of the war he was one -of the most influential members of the General Staff, so my prophetic -power was amply vindicated. - -From the Observatory we saw the destruction of a German trench. There -had been signs of work upon it, so it was decided to close it down. It -was a very visible brown streak a thousand yards away. The word was -passed back to the “75’s” in the rear. There was a “tir rapide” over -our heads. My word, the man who stands fast under a “tir rapide,” be -he Boche, French or British, is a man of mettle! The mere passage of -the shells was awe-inspiring, at first like the screaming of a wintry -wind, and then thickening into the howling of a pack of wolves. The -trench was a line of terrific explosions. Then the dust settled down -and all was still. Where were the ants who had made the nest? Were they -buried beneath it? Or had they got from under? No one could say. - -There was one little gun which fascinated me, and I stood for some time -watching it. Its three gunners, enormous helmeted men, evidently loved -it, and touched it with a swift but tender touch in every movement. -When it was fired it ran up an inclined plane to take off the recoil, -rushing up and then turning and rattling down again upon the gunners -who were used to its ways. The first time it did it, I was standing -behind it, and I don’t know which jumped quickest--the gun or I. - -French officers above a certain rank develop and show their own -individuality. In the lower grades the conditions of service enforce a -certain uniformity. The British officer is a British gentleman first, -and an officer afterwards. The Frenchman is an officer first, though -none the less the gentleman stands behind it. One very strange type -we met, however, in these Argonne Woods. He was a French-Canadian who -had been a French soldier, had founded a homestead in far Alberta, and -had now come back of his own will, though a naturalized Briton, to the -old flag. He spoke English of a kind, the quality and quantity being -equally extraordinary. It poured from him and was, so far as it was -intelligible, of the woolly Western variety. His views on the Germans -were the most emphatic we had met. “These Godam sons of”--well, let -us say “Canines!” he would shriek, shaking his fist at the woods to -the north of him. A good man was our compatriot, for he had a very -recent Legion of Honour pinned upon his breast. He had been put with -a few men on Hill 285, a sort of volcano stuffed with mines, and was -told to telephone when he needed relief. He refused to telephone, and -remained there for three weeks. “We sit like one rabbit in his hall,” -he explained. He had only one grievance--there were many wild boars -in the forest, but the infantry were too busy to get them. “The Godam -Artillaree he get the wild pig!” Out of his pocket he pulled a picture -of a frame house with snow round it, and a lady with two children on -the stoep. It was his homestead at Trochu, seventy miles north of -Calgary. - -It was the evening of the third day that we turned our faces towards -Paris once more. It was my last view of the French. The roar of their -guns went far with me upon my way. I wrote at the time: “Soldiers of -France, farewell! In your own phrase, I salute you! Many have seen you -who had more knowledge by which to judge your manifold virtues, many -also who had more skill to draw you as you are, but never one, I am -sure, who admired you more than I. Great was the French soldier, under -Louis the Sun-King, great too under Napoleon, but never was he greater -than to-day.” - -But in spite of all their bravery only two things saved France, her -field guns and the intervention of England. Surely she should have a -reckoning with her pre-war military authorities. Imagine unwarlike -Britain, protected by the sea, and yet having a high standard of -musketry, heavy guns with every division, and khaki uniforms, while -warlike France, under the very shadow of Germany, had poor musketry, -primeval uniforms and no heavy guns. As to her early views of -strategy they were lamentable. Every British critic, above all Lord -Kitchener, knew that the attack would swing round through Belgium. -France concentrated all her preparation upon the Eastern frontier. It -was clear also that the weaker power should be on the defensive and -so bring her enemy by heavier losses down to her own weight. France -attacked and broke herself in an impossible venture. There should have -been a heavy reckoning against some one. The fate of England as well as -of France was imperilled by the false estimates of the French General -Staff. - -One small visible result of my journey was the establishment of wound -stripes upon the uniforms of the British. I had been struck by this -very human touch among the French, which gave a man some credit and -therefore some consolation for his sufferings. I represented the -matter when I came back. Lest I seem to claim more than is true, I -append General Robertson’s letter. The second sentence refers to that -campaign for the use of armour which I had prosecuted so long, and with -some success as regards helmets, though there the credit was mostly due -to Dr. Saleeby, among civilians. The letter runs thus: - - WAR OFFICE, - _August 14, 1916_. - - Many thanks for sending me a copy of your little book. I will - certainly see what can be done in regard to armour. You will remember - that I took your previous tip as regards badges for wounded men. - - Yours very truly, - W. R. ROBERTSON. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -BREAKING THE HINDENBURG LINE - - Lloyd George--My Second Excursion--The Farthest German Point--Sir - Joseph Cook--Night before the Day of Judgment--The Final Battle--On a - Tank--Horrible Sight--Speech to Australians--The Magic Carpet. - - -I find in my diary that the Prime Minister, Mr. Lloyd George, invited -me to breakfast in April, 1917. Some third person was, I understand, to -have been present, but he did not arrive, so that I found myself alone -in the classic dining room of No. 10, Downing Street, while my host -was finishing his toilet. Presently he appeared, clad in a grey suit, -smart and smiling, with no sign at all that he bore the weight of the -great European War upon his shoulders. Nothing could have been more -affable or democratic, for there was no servant present, and he poured -out the tea, while I, from a side table, brought the bacon and eggs -for both. He had certainly the Celtic power of making one absolutely -at one’s ease, for there was no trace at all of pomp or ceremony--just -a pleasant, smiling, grey-haired but very virile gentleman, with -twinkling eyes and a roguish smile. No doubt there are other aspects, -but that is how he presented himself that morning. - -He began by talking about the great loss which the country had -sustained in Lord Kitchener’s death, speaking of him in a very kindly -and human way. At the same time he was of opinion that long tropical -service and the habit of always talking down to subordinates had had -some effect upon his mind and character. He was a strange mixture of -rather morose inactivity and sudden flashes of prevision which amounted -to genius. He was the only man who had clearly foreseen the length -of the war, and but for Turkey, Bulgaria, and other complications he -probably overstated it at three years. There were times when he became -so dictatorial as to be almost unbearable, and he had to be reminded -at a Cabinet Council by Lloyd George himself that he was in the -presence of twenty men who were his peers, and that he could not refuse -them information or act above their heads. I confess that it struck -me as very natural that a big man with vital knowledge in his brain -should hesitate in a world crisis to confide it to twenty men, and -probably twenty wives, each of whom was a possible leak. In spite of -his genius Kitchener was not accessible to new ideas. He could not see -clearly why such enormous munitions were necessary. He opposed tanks. -He was against the Irish and Welsh separate divisions. He refused -the special flags which the ladies had worked for these divisions. -He was as remote from sentiment as a steam hammer, and yet he was -dealing with humans who can be influenced by sentiment. He obstructed -in many things, particularly in the Dardanelles. On the other hand, -his steps in organizing the new armies were splendid, though he had -attempted--vainly--to do away with the Territorials, another example -of his blindness to the practical force of sentiment. Miss Asquith -had said of him, “If he is not a great man he is a great poster,” and -certainly no one else could have moved the nation to such a degree, -though the long series of provocations from the Germans had made us -very receptive and combative. - -Lloyd George was justly proud of the splendid work of the Welsh -Division at the front. He had been to Mametz Wood, the taking of which -had been such a bloody, and also such a glorious, business. He listened -with interest to an account which I was able to give him of some -incidents in that fight, and said that it was a beautiful story. He had -arranged for a Welsh painter to do the scene of the battle. - -He was interested to hear how I had worked upon my history, and -remarked that it was probably better done from direct human documents -than from filed papers. He asked me whether I had met many of the -divisional Generals, and on my saying that I had, he asked me if any -had struck me as outstanding among their fellows. I said I thought they -were a fine level lot, but that in soldiering it was impossible to say -by mere talk or appearance who was the big man at a pinch. He agreed. -He seemed to have a particular feeling towards General Tom Bridges, of -the 19th Division, and shortly afterwards I noticed that he was chosen -for the American mission. - -I talked to him about my views as to the use of armour, and found him -very keen upon it. He is an excellent listener, and seems honestly -interested in what you say. He said he had no doubt that in the problem -of armour lay the future of warfare, but how to carry it was the crux. -He said that the soldiers always obstructed the idea--which was my -experience also--with a few notable exceptions. I mentioned General -Watts of the 7th Division as being interested in armour, and he agreed -and seemed to know all about Watts who, though a “dug-out,” was one of -the finds of the war. - -He was much excited about the revolution in Russia, news of which had -only just come through. The Guards had turned, and that meant that -all had turned. The Tsar was good but weak. The general character -and probable fate of the Tsarina were not unlike those of Marie -Antoinette--in fact, the whole course of events was very analogous -to the French Revolution. “Then it will last some years and end in a -Napoleon,” said I. He agreed. The revolt, he said, was in no sense -pro-German. The whole affair had been Byzantine, and reminded one of -the old histories. - -As I left he came back to armour, and said that he was about to see -some one on that very subject. When I was in the hall it struck me that -a few definite facts which I had in my head would be useful in such an -interview, so, to the surprise of the butler, I sat down on the hall -chair and wrote out on a scrap of paper a few headings which I asked -him to give the Prime Minister. I don’t know if they were of any use. I -came away reassured, and feeling that a vigorous virile hand was at the -helm. - -I had not expected to see any more actual operations of the war, but -early in September, 1918, I had an intimation from the Australian -Government that I might visit their section of the line. Little did I -think that this would lead to my seeing the crowning battle of the war. -It was on September 26 that we actually started, the party consisting -of Sir Joseph Cook, Naval Minister of the Australian Commonwealth, -Commander Latham, his aide-de-camp, who in civil life is a rising -barrister of Melbourne, and Mr. Berry, soon to be Sir William Berry, -proprietor of the “Sunday Times.” We crossed in a gale of wind, with -a destroyer sheeted in foam on either side of the leave boat, each of -us being obliged to wear life-belts. Several American newspaper men -were on board, one of them an old friend, Bok, of the “Ladies’ Home -Journal.” It was too late to continue our journey when we got across, -so we stayed at an inn that night, and were off to the Australian line -at an early hour in the morning, our way lying through Abbeville and -Amiens. The latter place was nearly deserted and very badly knocked -about, far more so than I had expected. - -The enemy had, as we knew, been within seven miles of Amiens--it was -the Australian line which held the town safe, and the allied cause from -desperate peril if not ruin. It did not surprise us, therefore, that we -soon came upon signs of fighting. A little grove was shown us as the -absolute farthest ripple of the advanced German wave. A little farther -on was the sheltered town of Villers Brettoneux, with piles of empty -cartridge cases at every corner to show where snipers or machine guns -had lurked. A little farther on a truly monstrous gun--the largest I -have ever seen--lay near the road, broken into three pieces. It was -bigger to my eyes than the largest on our battleships, and had been -brought up and mounted by the Germans just before the tide had turned, -which was on July 5. In their retreat they had been compelled to blow -it up. A party of British Guardsmen were standing round it examining -it, and I exchanged a few words with them. Then we ran on through -ground which was intensely interesting to me, as it was the scene of -Gough’s retreat, and I had just been carefully studying it at home. -There was the Somme on our left, a very placid, slow-moving stream, and -across it the higher ground where our III Corps had been held up on -the historical August 8, the day which made Ludendorff realize, as he -himself states, that the war was lost. On the plain over which we were -moving the Australian and Canadian Divisions had swept, with the tanks -leading the British line, as Boadicea’s chariots did of old. Though I -had not been over the ground before, I had visualized it so clearly in -making notes about the battle that I could name every hamlet and locate -every shattered church tower. Presently a hill rose on the left, which -I knew to be Mount St. Quentin, the taking of which by the Australians -was one of the feats of the war. It had been defended by picked troops, -including some of the Prussian Guards, but they were mostly taken or -killed, though a flanking attack by the British Yeomanry Division had -something to do with the result. - -The old walled town of Peronne, sacred for ever to Sir Walter, Quentin -Durward, and the archers of the Scots Guards, lay before us, almost -if not quite surrounded by the river, the canal, and broad moats. It -seemed an impossible place to take, which is of course the greatest -possible trap in modern warfare, since something occurring fifty miles -away may place troops behind you and cut you off. Here our long drive -finished, and we were handed over to the care of Colonel Bennett -commanding the camp, a tall, bluff warrior who, if he had doffed his -khaki and got into a velvet tunic, would have been the exact image of -the veteran warrior in Scott’s novel. He was indeed a veteran, having -fought, if I remember right, not only in South Africa, but even in the -Australian Suakim contingent. - -A little wooden hut was put at our disposal, and there we slept, Sir -Joseph Cook and I, with a small partition between us. I was bitterly -cold, and so I can tell was he, for I could hear him tossing about just -as I did for warmth. We had neither of us made the discovery that you -may pile all the clothes you like on the top of you, but so long as -there is only one layer of canvas beneath you, you are likely to be -cold. We don’t usually realize that the mattress is also part of the -bed-clothes. We both got little sleep that night. - -Next morning, September 28, we were off betimes, for we had much to -see, the old town for one thing, which I vowed I would visit again in -time of peace. We descended Mount St. Quentin and saw ample evidence -of the grim struggle that had occurred there. There were many rude -graves, some of them with strange inscriptions. One of them, I was -told, read: “Here lies a German who met two diggers.” The Australian -Tommy was of course universally known as a digger. They make a rough, -valiant, sporting but rude-handed crew. They went through the prisoners -for loot, and even the officers were ransacked. Colonel Bennett told -me that a Colonel of the Germans was impudent when he came into his -presence, so Bennett said: “Mend your manners, or I will hand you over -to the diggers!” They were waiting outside the tent for just such a -chance. One German had an iron cross which was snatched from him by -an Australian. The German shaped up to the man in excellent form and -knocked him down. The other Australians were delighted, gave him back -his cross, and made him quite a hero. I expect the looter had been an -unpopular man. - -The younger Australian officers were all promoted from the ranks, and -many of them had their own ideas about English grammar. Bennett told -me that he tried to get the reports better written. One subaltern had -reported: “As I came round the traverse I met a Bosch and we both -reached for our guns, but he lost his block and I got him.” Bennett -returned this for emendation. It came back: “As I came round the -traverse I met a German, and we both drew our automatic pistols, but -he lost his presence of mind and I shot him.” I think I like the first -style best. - -I lunched that day at the Head-quarters of Sir John Monash, an -excellent soldier who had done really splendid work, especially since -the advance began. Indeed, it was his own action on July 5 which -turned the tide of retreat. He showed that the long line of fighting -Jews which began with Joshua still carries on. One of the Australian -Divisional Generals, Rosenthal, was also a Jew, and the Head-quarters -Staff was full of eagle-nosed, black-haired warriors. It spoke well -for them and well also for the perfect equality of the Australian -system, which would have the best man at the top, be he who he might. -My brother was acting as Assistant Adjutant-General to General Butler -with the III British Corps on the left of the Australians, and they had -kindly wired for him, so that I had the joy of having him next me at -lunch, and he invited me to join the Head-quarters mess of his corps -for dinner. - -It was a wonderful experience that dinner. The great advance was to be -next morning, when it was hoped that the Hindenburg Line, which was -practically the frontier of Germany, would be carried. There were only -six who dined in that little farm-house messroom: Butler himself with -hard composed face, his head of sappers, head of gunners, my brother, -the first and second Staff officers, a little group of harassed and -weary men. Yet there was no word of the huge drama upon the edge of -which we were standing. Every now and then a telephone tinkled in -the next room, a Staff officer rose, there were a few short words, a -nod, and the incident was closed. It was a wonderful example of quiet -self-control. I said to my brother, when we were alone: “Don’t you -think I am out of the picture at such a moment talking about such -frivolous things?” “For God’s sake keep on at it,” he said. “It is just -what they need. Give their brains something new.” So I tried to do so -and we had a memorable evening. - -I shall never forget the drive back of ten miles in a pitch-dark -night, with not a gleam anywhere save that far aloft two little gold -points glimmered now and again, like the far-off headlights of a motor -transferred suddenly to the heavens. These were British aeroplanes, so -lit to distinguish them from the German marauders. The whole eastern -horizon was yellow-red with gun-fire, and the distant roar of the -artillery preparation was like the Atlantic surge upon a rock-bound -coast. Along the road no lights were permitted, and several times out -of the black a still blacker gloom framed itself into some motor-lorry -with which only our cries saved a collision. It was wonderful and -awesome, the eve of the day of judgment when Germany’s last solid -defence was to be smashed, and she was to be left open to that -vengeance which she had so long provoked. - -We were awakened early, part of our party getting away to some point -which they imagined would be more adventurous than that to which we -seniors should be invited, though in the sequel it hardly proved so. -They saw much, however, and one of them described to me how one of the -first and saddest sights was that of eighteen splendid young Americans -lying dead and lonely by the roadside, caught in some unlucky shell -burst. Mr. Cook, Commander Latham, and I had been placed under the -charge of Captain Plunket, a twice-wounded Australian officer, who -helped us much during the varied adventures of our exciting day. - -The general programme of attack was already in our minds. Two American -divisions, the 27th and 30th, one from New York, the other from the -South, were to rush the front line. The Australian divisions were -then to pass over or through them and carry the battle-front forward. -Already, as we arrived on the battle-field, the glad news came back -that the Americans had done their part, and that the Australians had -just been unleashed. Also that the Germans were standing to it like men. - -As our car threaded the crowded street between the ruins of Templeux -we met the wounded coming back, covered cars with nothing visible save -protruding boots, and a constant stream of pedestrians, some limping, -some with bandaged arms and faces, some supported by Red Cross men, -a few in pain, most of them smiling grimly behind their cigarettes. -Amid them came the first clump of prisoners, fifty or more, pitiable -enough, and yet I could not pity them, the weary, shuffling, hang-dog -creatures, with no touch of nobility in their features or their bearing. - -The village was full of Americans and Australians, extraordinarily -like each other in type. One could well have lingered, for it was all -of great interest, but there were even greater interests ahead, so -we turned up a hill, left our car, which had reached its limit, and -proceeded on foot. The road took us through a farm, where a British -anti-aircraft battery stood ready for action. Then we found open plain, -and went forward, amid old trenches and rusty wire, in the direction of -the battle. - -We had now passed the heavy gun positions, and were among the field -guns, so that the noise was deafening. A British howitzer battery -was hard at work, and we stopped to chat with the Major. His crews -had been at it for six hours, but were in great good humour, and -chuckled mightily when the blast of one of their guns nearly drove in -our ear-drums, we having got rather too far forward. The effect was -that of a ringing box on the exposed ear--with which valediction we -left our grinning British gunners and pushed on to the east, under a -screaming canopy of our own shells. The wild, empty waste of moor was -broken by a single shallow quarry or gravel-pit, in which we could -see some movement. In it we found an advanced dressing station, with -about a hundred American and Australian gunners and orderlies. There -were dug-outs in the sides of this flat excavation, and it had been an -American battalion Head-quarters up to a few hours before. We were now -about 1,000 yards from the Hindenburg Line, and I learned with emotion -that this spot was the Egg Redoubt, one of those advanced outposts of -General Gough’s army which suffered so tragic and glorious a fate in -that great military epic of March 21--one of the grandest in the whole -war. The fact that we were now actually standing in the Egg Redoubt -showed me, as nothing else could have done, how completely the ground -had been recovered, and how the day of retribution was at hand. - -We were standing near the eastward lip of the excavation, and looking -over it, when it was first brought to our attention that it took two -to make a battle. Up to now we had seen only one. Now two shells burst -in quick succession forty yards in front of us, and a spray of earth -went into the air. “Whizz-bangs,” remarked our soldier-guide casually. -Personally, I felt less keenly interested in their name than in the -fact that they were there at all. - -We thought we had done pretty well to get within 1,000 yards of the -famous line, but now came a crowning bit of good fortune, for an -Australian gunner captain, a mere lad, but a soldier from his hawk’s -eyes to his active feet, volunteered to rush us forward to some coign -of vantage known to himself. So it was Eastward Ho! once more, still -over a dull, barren plain sloping gently upwards, with little sign of -life. Here and there was the quick fluff of a bursting shell, but at a -comfortable distance. Suddenly ahead of us a definite object broke the -skyline. It was a Tank, upon which the crew were working with spanners -and levers, for its comrades were now far ahead, and it would fain -follow. This, it seems, was the grandstand which our young gunner had -selected. On to the top of it we clambered--and there, at our very -feet, and less than 500 yards away, was the rift which had been torn a -few hours before in the Hindenburg Line. On the dun slope beyond it, -under our very eyes, was even now being fought a part of that great -fight where at last the children of light were beating down into the -earth the forces of darkness. It was there. We could see it. And yet -how little there was to see! - -The ridge was passed, and the ground sloped down, as dark and heathy -as Hindhead. In front of us lay a village. It was Bellicourt. The -Hindenburg position ran through it. It lay quiet enough, and with the -unaided eye one could see rusty red fields of wire in front of it. But -the wire had availed nothing, nor had the trench that lurked behind it, -for beyond it, beside the village of Nauroy, there was a long white -line, clouds of pale steam-like vapour spouting up against a dark, -rain-sodden sky. “The Boche smoke barrage,” said our guide. “They are -going to counter-attack.” Only this, the long, white, swirling cloud -upon the dark plain told of the strife in front of us. With my glasses -I saw what looked like Tanks, but whether wrecked or in action I could -not say. There was the battle--the greatest of battles--but nowhere -could I see a moving figure. It is true that all the noises of the pit -seemed to rise from that lonely landscape, but noise was always with -us, go where we would. - -The Australians were ahead where that line of smoke marked their -progress. In the sloping fields, which at that point emerged out of -the moor, the victorious Americans, who had done their part, were -crouching. It was an assured victory upon which we gazed, achieved so -rapidly that we were ourselves standing far forward in ground which -had been won that day. The wounded had been brought in, and I saw no -corpses. On the left the fight was very severe, and the Germans, who -had been hidden in their huge dug-outs, were doing their usual trick of -emerging and cutting off the attack. So much we gathered afterwards, -but for the moment it was the panorama before us which was engrossing -all our thoughts. - -Suddenly the German guns woke up. I can but pray that it was not our -group which drew their fire upon the half-mended tank. Shell after -shell fell in its direction, all of them short, but creeping forward -with each salvo. It was time for us to go. If any man says that without -a call of duty he likes being under aimed shell-fire, he is not a man -whose word I would trust. Some of the shells burst with a rusty-red -outflame, and we were told that they were gas shells. I may say that -before we were admitted on to the battle-field at all, we were ushered -one by one into a room where some devil’s pipkin was bubbling in the -corner, and were taught to use our gas-masks by the simple expedient of -telling us that if we failed to acquire the art then and there a very -painful alternative was awaiting us. - -We made our way back, with no indecent haste, but certainly without -loitering, across the plain, the shells always getting rather nearer, -until we came to the excavation. Here we had a welcome rest, for our -good gunner took us into his cubby-hole of a dug-out, which would at -least stop shrapnel, and we shared his tea and dried beef, a true -Australian soldier’s meal. - -The German fire was now rather heavy, and our expert host explained -that this meant that he had recovered from the shock of the attack, -had reorganized his guns, and was generally his merry self once more. -From where we sat we could see heavy shells bursting far to our rear, -and there was an atmosphere of explosion all round us, which might have -seemed alarming had it not been for the general chatty afternoon-tea -appearance of all these veteran soldiers with whom it was our privilege -to find ourselves. A group of sulky-looking German prisoners sat in a -corner, while a lank and freckled Australian soldier, with his knee -sticking out of a rent in his trousers, was walking about with four -watches dangling from his hand, endeavouring vainly to sell them. Far -be it from me to assert that he did not bring the watches from Sydney -and choose this moment for doing a deal in them, but they were heavy -old Teutonic time-pieces, and the prisoners seemed to take a rather -personal interest in them. - -As we started on our homeward track we came, first, upon the British -battery which seemed to be limbering up with some idea of advancing, -and so lost its chance of administering a box on our other ear. Farther -still we met our friends of the air guns, and stopped again to exchange -a few impressions. They had nothing to fire at, and seemed bored to -tears, for the red, white and blue machines were in full command of -the sky. Soon we found our motor waiting in the lee of a ruined house, -and began to thread our way back through the wonderfully picturesque -streams of men--American, Australian, British, and German--who were -strung along the road. - -And then occurred a very horrible incident. One knew, of course, that -one could not wander about a battle-field and not find oneself sooner -or later involved in some tragedy, but we were now out of range of any -but heavy guns, and their shots were spasmodic. We had halted the car -for an instant to gather up two German helmets which Commander Latham -had seen on the roadside, when there was a very heavy burst close ahead -round a curve in the village street. A geyser of red brick-dust flew up -into the air. An instant later our car rounded the corner. None of us -will forget what we saw. There was a tangle of mutilated horses, their -necks rising and sinking. Beside them a man with his hand blown off was -staggering away, the blood gushing from his upturned sleeve. He was -moving round and holding the arm raised and hanging, as a dog holds an -injured foot. Beside the horses lay a shattered man, drenched crimson -from head to foot, with two great glazed eyes looking upwards through a -mask of blood. Two comrades were at hand to help, and we could only go -upon our way with the ghastly picture stamped for ever upon our memory. -The image of that dead driver might well haunt one in one’s dreams. - -Once through Templeux and on the main road for Peronne things became -less exciting, and we drew up to see a column of 900 prisoners pass -us. Each side of the causeway was lined by Australians, with their -keen, clear-cut, falcon faces, and between lurched these heavy-jawed, -beetle-browed, uncouth louts, new caught and staring round with -bewildered eyes at their debonnaire captors. I saw none of that relief -at getting out of it which I have read of; nor did I see any signs -of fear, but the prevailing impression was an ox-like stolidity and -dullness. It was a herd of beasts, not a procession of men. It was -indeed farcical to think that these uniformed bumpkins represented -the great military nation, while the gallant figures who lined the -road belonged to the race which they had despised as being unwarlike. -Time and Fate between them have a pretty sense of humour. One of them -caught my eye as he passed and roared out in guttural English, “The old -Jairman is out!” They were the only words I heard them speak. French -cavalry troopers, stern, dignified, and martial, rode at either end of -the bedraggled procession. - -They were great soldiers, these Australians. I think they would admit -it themselves, but a spectator is bound to confirm it. There was a -reckless dare-devilry, combined with a spice of cunning, which gave -them a place of their own in the Imperial ranks. They had a great -advantage too, in having a permanent organization, the same five -divisions always in the same corps, under the same chief. It doubled -their military value--and the same applied equally, of course, to -the Canadians. None the less, they should not undervalue their -British comrades or lose their sense of proportion. I had a chance of -addressing some 1,200 of them on our return that evening, and while -telling them all that I thought of their splendid deeds, I ventured to -remind them that 72 per cent of the men engaged and 76 per cent of the -casualties were Englishmen of England. - -I think that now, in these after-war days, the whole world needs to -be reminded of this fact as well as the Australians did. There has -been, it seems to me, a systematic depreciation of what the glorious -English, apart from the British, soldiers did. England is too big to be -provincial, and smaller minds sometimes take advantage of it. At the -time some of the Australian papers slanged me for having given this -speech to their soldiers, but I felt that it needed saying, and several -of their officers thanked me warmly, saying that as they never saw -anything save their own front, they were all of them losing their sense -of proportion. I shall not easily forget that speech, I standing on a -mound in the rain, the Australian soldiers with cloaks swathed round -them like brigands, and half a dozen aeroplanes, returning from the -battle, circling overhead, evidently curious as to what was going on. -It seems to me now like some extraordinary dream. - -Such was my scamper to the Australian front. It was as if some huge -hand had lifted me from my study table, placed me where I could see -what I was writing about, and then within four days laid me down once -more before the familiar table, with one more wonderful experience -added to my record. - -And then at last came the blessed day of Armistice. I was in a staid -London hotel at eleven o’clock in the morning, most prim of all the -hours of the day, when a lady, well-dressed and conventional, came -through the turning doors, waltzed slowly round the hall with a flag -in either hand, and departed without saying a word. It was the first -sign that things were happening. I rushed out into the streets, and of -course the news was everywhere at once. I walked down to Buckingham -Palace and saw the crowds assembling there, singing and cheering. A -slim, young girl had got elevated on to some high vehicle, and was -leading and conducting the singing as if she was some angel in tweeds -just dropped from a cloud. In the dense crowd I saw an open motor -stop with four middle-aged men, one of them a hard-faced civilian, -the others officers. I saw this civilian hack at the neck of a whisky -bottle and drink it raw. I wish the crowd had lynched him. It was the -moment for prayer, and this beast was a blot on the landscape. On the -whole the people were very good and orderly. Later more exuberant -elements got loose. They say that it was when the Australian wounded -met the War Office flappers that the foundations of solid old London -got loosened. But we have little to be ashamed of, and if ever folk -rejoiced we surely had the right to do so. We did not see the new -troubles ahead of us, but at least these old ones were behind. And we -had gained an immense reassurance. Britain had not weakened. She was -still the Britain of old. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -THE PSYCHIC QUEST - - -I have not obtruded the psychic question upon the reader, though it -has grown in importance with the years, and has now come to absorb -the whole energy of my life. I cannot, however, close these scattered -memories of my adventures in thought and action without some reference, -however incomplete, to that which has been far the most important -thing in my life. It is the thing for which every preceding phase, my -gradual religious development, my books, which gave me an introduction -to the public, my modest fortune, which enables me to devote myself -to unlucrative work, my platform work, which helps me to convey the -message, and my physical strength, which is still sufficient to stand -arduous tours and to fill the largest halls for an hour and a half with -my voice, have each and all been an unconscious preparation. For thirty -years I have trained myself exactly for the rôle without the least -inward suspicion of whither I was tending. - -I cannot in the limited space of a chapter go into very lengthy detail -or complete argument upon the subject. It is the more unnecessary -since I have already in my psychic volumes outlined very clearly how I -arrived at my present knowledge. Of these volumes the first and second, -called respectively “The New Revelation” and “The Vital Message,” show -how gradual evidence was given me of the continuation of life, and how -thorough and long were my studies before I was at last beaten out of -my material agnostic position and forced to admit the validity of the -proofs. - -In the days of universal sorrow and loss, when the voice of Rachel was -heard throughout the land, it was borne in upon me that the knowledge -which had come to me thus was not for my own consolation alone, but -that God had placed me in a very special position for conveying it to -that world which needed it so badly. - -I found in the movement many men who saw the truth as clearly as I did; -but such was the clamour of the “religious,” who were opposing that -which is the very essence of living religion, of the “scientific,” -who broke the first laws of Science by pronouncing upon a thing which -they had not examined, and of the Press, who held up every real or -imaginary rascality as being typical of a movement which they had -never understood, that the true men were abashed and shrank from the -public exposition of their views. It was to combat this that I began a -campaign in 1916 which can only finish when all is finished. - -One grand help I had. My wife had always been averse from my psychic -studies, deeming the subject to be uncanny and dangerous. Her own -experiences soon convinced her to the contrary, for her brother, who -was killed at Mons, came back to us in a very convincing way. From that -instant she threw herself with all the whole-hearted energy of her -generous nature into the work which lay before us. - -A devoted mother, she was forced often to leave her children; a lover -of home, she was compelled to quit it for many months at a time; -distrustful of the sea, she joyfully shared my voyages. We have now -travelled a good 50,000 miles upon our quest. We have spoken face to -face with a quarter of a million of people. Her social qualities, -her clear sanity, her ardent charity, and her gracious presence upon -the platforms all united with her private counsel and sympathy, have -been such an aid to me that they have turned my work into a joy. The -presence of our dear children upon our journeys has also lightened them -for both of us. - -I began our public expositions of the subject by three years of -intermittent lecturing in my country, during which period I visited -nearly every town of importance, many of them twice and thrice. -Everywhere I found attentive audiences, critical, as they should be, -but open to conviction. I roused antagonism only in those who had not -heard me, and there were demonstrations outside the doors, but never -in the halls. I cannot remember a single interruption during that long -series of addresses. It was interesting to notice how I was upheld, -for though I was frequently very weary before the address, and though -my war lectures had often been attended by palpitation of the heart, I -was never once conscious of any fatigue during or after a lecture upon -psychic subjects. - -On August 13, 1920, we started for Australia. In proportion to her -population she had lost almost as heavily as we during the war, and -I felt that my seed would fall upon fruitful ground. I have written -all details of this episode in my “Wanderings of a Spiritualist,” in -which the reader will find among other things some evidences of that -preternatural help which went with us in our journeys. I addressed -large audiences in all the big towns of Australia and New Zealand. An -unfortunate shipping strike prevented me from reaching Tasmania, but -otherwise the venture was an unalloyed success. Contrary to expectation -I was able to pay all the expenses of our large party (we were seven) -and to leave a balance behind me to help the successor whom I might -choose. - -At the end of March, 1921, we were back in Paris again, where, greatly -daring, I lectured in French upon psychic subjects. Our stay at home -was not a very long one, for urgent invitations had come from America, -where the Spiritual movement had fallen into a somewhat languishing -state. On April 1, 1922, our whole party started for the States. What -happened to us I have recorded in “Our American Adventure.” Suffice -it to say that the trip was very successful, and that from Boston to -Washington, and from New York to Chicago, I spoke in all the larger -cities and brought about a great revival of interest in the subject. We -were back in England at the beginning of July, 1922. - -I was by no means satisfied about America, however, as we had not -touched the great West, the land of the future. Therefore we set forth -again in March, 1923, getting back in August. Our adventures, which -were remarkable upon the psychic side, are recorded in “Our Second -American Adventure.” When I returned from that journey I had travelled -55,000 miles in three years, and spoken to quarter of a million of -people. I am still unsatisfied, however, for the Southern States of the -Union have not been touched, and it is possible that we may yet make a -journey in that direction. - -I have placed on record our experiences, and no doubt they have little -interest at the moment for the general public, but the day will come, -and that speedily, when people will understand that this proposition -for which we are now fighting is far the most important thing for two -thousand years in the history of the world, and when the efforts of -the pioneers will have a very real interest to all who have sufficient -intelligence to follow the progress of human thought. - -I am only one of many working for the cause, but I hope that I may -claim that I brought into it a combative and aggressive spirit which -it lacked before, and which has now so forced it upon public attention -that one can hardly pick up a paper without reading some comment upon -it. If some of these papers are hopelessly ignorant and prejudiced, -it is not a bad thing for the cause. If you have a bad case, constant -publicity is a misfortune, but if you have a good one, its goodness -will always assert itself, however much it may be misrepresented. - -Many Spiritualists have taken the view that since we know these -comforting and wonderful things, and since the world chooses not to -examine the evidence, we may be content with our own happy assurance. -This seems to me an immoral view. - -If God has sent a great new message of exceeding joy down to earth, -then it is for us, to whom it has been clearly revealed, to pass it -on at any cost of time, money and labour. It is not given to us for -selfish enjoyment, but for general consolation. If the sick man turns -from the physician, then it cannot be helped, but at least the healing -draught should be offered. - -The greater the difficulty in breaking down the wall of apathy, -ignorance and materialism, the more is it a challenge to our manhood to -attack and ever attack in the same bulldog spirit with which Foch faced -the German lines. - -I trust that the record of my previous life will assure the reader that -I have within my limitations preserved a sane and balanced judgment, -since I have never hitherto been extreme in my views, and since what I -have said has so often been endorsed by the actual course of events. -But never have I said anything with the same certainty of conviction -with which I now say that this new knowledge is going to sweep the -earth and to revolutionize human views upon every topic save only on -fundamental morality, which is a fixed thing. - -All modern inventions and discoveries will sink into insignificance -beside those psychic facts which will force themselves within a few -years upon the universal human mind. - -The subject has been obscured by the introduction of all sorts of side -issues, some of interest but not vital, others quite irrelevant. There -is a class of investigator who loves to wander round in a circle, and -to drag you with him if you are weak enough to accept such guidance. -He trips continually over his own brains, and can never persuade -himself that the simple and obvious explanation is also the true one. -His intellect becomes a positive curse to him, for he uses it to avoid -the straight road and to fashion out some strange devious path which -lands him at last in a quagmire, whilst the direct and honest mind has -kept firmly to the highway of knowledge. When I meet men of this type, -and then come in contact with the lowly congregations of religious -Spiritualists, I think always of Christ’s words when He thanked God -that He had revealed these things to babes and withheld them from the -wise and the prudent. I think also of a dictum of Baron Reichenbach: -“There is a scientific incredulity which exceeds in stupidity the -obtuseness of the clodhopper.” - -But what I say in no way applies to the reasonable researcher whose -experiences are real stepping-stones leading to his fixed conclusion. -There must to every man be this novitiate in knowledge. The matter is -too serious to be taken without due intellectual conviction. - -It must not be imagined that I entirely deny the existence of fraud. -But it is far less common than is supposed, and as for its being -universal, which is the theory of the conjurers and some other critics, -such an opinion is beyond reason or argument. In an experience with -mediums which has been excelled by very few living men, and which has -embraced three continents, I have not encountered fraud more than three -or four times. - -There is conscious and unconscious fraud, and it is the existence of -the latter which complicates the question so badly. Conscious fraud -usually arises from a temporary failure of real psychic power, and -a consequent attempt to replace it by an imitation. Unconscious -fraud comes in that curious halfway state which I have called the -“half-trance condition” when the medium seems normal, and yet is -actually hardly responsible for his actions. - -At such a time the process by which his personality leaves his body -seems to have set in, and his higher qualities have already passed, so -that he can apparently no longer inhibit the promptings received from -the suggestion of those around him, or from his own unchecked desires. -Thus one will find mediums doing stupid and obvious things which expose -them to the charge of cheating. Then if the observer disregards these -and waits, the true psychic phenomena of unmistakable character will -follow as he sinks more deeply into trance. - -This was, I gather, noticeable in the case of Eusapia Paladino, but I -have seen it with several others. In those cases where a medium has -left the cabinet, and is found wandering about among the sitters, -as has happened with Mrs. Corner, with Madame d’Esperance, and with -Craddock--all of them mediums who have given many proofs of their real -powers--I am convinced that the very natural supposition that they are -fraudulent is really quite a mistaken one. - -When, on the other hand, it is found that the medium has introduced -false drapery or accessories, which has sometimes occurred, we are in -the presence of the most odious and blasphemous crime which a human -being can commit. - -People ask me, not unnaturally, what it is which makes me so perfectly -certain that this thing is true. That I am perfectly certain is surely -demonstrated by the mere fact that I have abandoned my congenial and -lucrative work, left my home for long periods at a time, and subjected -myself to all sorts of inconveniences, losses, and even insults, in -order to get the facts home to the people. - -To give all my reasons would be to write a book rather than a chapter, -but I may say briefly that there is no physical sense which I possess -which has not been separately assured, and that there is no conceivable -method by which a spirit could show its presence which I have not on -many occasions experienced. In the presence of Miss Besinnet as medium -and of several witnesses I have seen my mother and my nephew, young -Oscar Hornung, as plainly as ever I saw them in life--so plainly that I -could almost have counted the wrinkles of the one and the freckles of -the other. - -In the darkness the face of my mother shone up, peaceful, happy, -slightly inclined to one side, the eyes closed. My wife upon my right -and the lady upon my left both saw it as clearly as I did. The lady had -not known my mother in life but she said, “How wonderfully like she is -to her son,” which will show how clear was the detail of the features. - -On another occasion my son came back to me. Six persons heard his -conversation with me, and signed a paper afterwards to that effect. -It was in his voice and concerned itself with what was unknown to -the medium, who was bound and breathing deeply in his chair. If the -evidence of six persons of standing and honour may not be taken, then -how can any human fact be established? - -My brother, General Doyle, came back with the same medium, but on -another occasion. He discussed the health of his widow. She was a -Danish lady, and he wanted her to use a masseur in Copenhagen. He gave -the name. I made inquiries and found that such a man did exist. Whence -came this knowledge? Who was it who took so close an interest in the -health of this lady? If it was not her dead husband then who was it? - -All fine-drawn theories of the subconscious go to pieces before the -plain statement of the intelligence, “I am a spirit. I am Innes. I am -your brother.” - -I have clasped materialized hands. - -I have held long conversations with the direct voice. - -I have smelt the peculiar ozone-like smell of ectoplasm. - -I have listened to prophecies which were quickly fulfilled. - -I have seen the “dead” glimmer up upon a photographic plate which no -hand but mine had touched. - -I have received through the hand of my own wife, notebooks full of -information which was utterly beyond her ken. - -I have seen heavy articles swimming in the air, untouched by human -hand, and obeying directions given to unseen operators. - -I have seen spirits walk round the room in fair light and join in the -talk of the company. - -I have known an untrained woman, possessed by an artist spirit, to -produce rapidly a picture, now hanging in my drawing-room, which few -living painters could have bettered. - -I have read books which might have come from great thinkers and -scholars, and which were actually written by unlettered men who acted -as the medium of the unseen intelligence, so superior to his own. I -have recognized the style of a dead writer which no parodist could have -copied, and which was written in his own handwriting. - -I have heard singing beyond earthly power, and whistling done with no -pause for the intake of breath. - -I have seen objects from a distance projected into a room with closed -doors and windows. - -If a man could see, hear, and feel all this, and yet remain unconvinced -of unseen intelligent forces around him, he would have good cause to -doubt his own sanity. Why should he heed the chatter of irresponsible -journalists, or the head-shaking of inexperienced men of science, when -he has himself had so many proofs? They are babies in this matter, and -should be sitting at his feet. - -It is not, however, a question to be argued in a detached and -impersonal way, as if one were talking of the Baconian theory or the -existence of Atlantis. It is intimate, personal, and vital to the last -degree. - -A closed mind means an earthbound soul, and that in turn means future -darkness and misery. If you know what is coming, you can avoid it. If -you do not, you run grave risk. Some Jeremiah or Savonarola is needed -who will shriek this into the ears of the world. A new conception of -sin is needed. The mere carnal frailties of humanity, the weaknesses of -the body, are not to be lightly condoned, but are not the serious part -of the human reckoning. It is the fixed condition of mind, narrowness, -bigotry, materialism--in a word, the sins not of the body, but of the -spirit, which are the real permanent things, and condemn the individual -to the lower spheres until he has learnt his lesson. - -We know this from our rescue circles when these poor souls come back -to bewail their errors and to learn those truths which they might have -learnt here, had their minds not been closed by apathy or prejudice. - -The radical mistake which science has made in investigating the subject -is that it has never troubled to grasp the fact that it is not the -medium who is producing the phenomena. It has always treated him as -if he were a conjurer, and said, “Do this or do that,” failing to -understand that little or nothing comes _from_ him, but all or nearly -all comes _through_ him. I say “nearly” all, for I believe that some -simple phenomena, such as the rap, can within limits be produced by the -medium’s own will. - -It is this false view of science which has prevented sceptics from -realizing that a gentle and receptive state of mind on the part of -sitters and an easy natural atmosphere for the medium are absolutely -essential in order to produce harmony with the outside forces. - -If in the greatest of all séances, that of the upper room on the day -of Pentecost, an aggressive sceptic had insisted upon test conditions -of his own foolish devising, where would the rushing wind and the -tongues of fire have been? “All with one accord,” says the writer of -the Acts of the Apostles, and that is the essential condition. I have -sat with saintly people, and I too have felt the rushing wind, seen -the flickering tongues and heard the great voice, but how could such -results come where harmony did not reign? - -That is the radical mistake which science has made. Men know well that -even in her own coarse, material work the presence of a scrap of metal -may upset the whole balance of a great magnetic installation, and yet -they will not take the word of those who are in a position to speak -from experience that a psychic condition may upset a psychic experiment. - -But indeed when we speak of science in this connection it is a -confusion of thought. The fact that a man is a great zoologist like -Lankester, or a great physicist like Tyndall or Faraday, does not -give his opinion any weight in a subject which is outside his own -specialty. There is many an unknown Smith and Jones whose twenty years -of practical work have put him in a far stronger position than that -of these intolerant scientists; while as to the real Spiritualist -leaders, men of many experiences and much reading and thought, it is -they who are the real scientific experts who are in a position to -teach the world. One does not lose one’s judgment when one becomes a -Spiritualist. One is as much a researcher as ever, but one understands -better what it is that one is studying and how to study it. - -This controversy with bumptious and ignorant people is a mere passing -thing which matters nothing. The real controversy, which does matter -very much, is with the Continental school who study ectoplasm and other -semi-material manifestations, but who have not got the length of seeing -independent spirit behind them. Richet, Schrenck-Notzing and other -great investigators are still in this midway position, and Flammarion -is little more advanced. Richet goes the length of admitting that he -has assured himself by personal observation of the materialized form -that it can walk and talk and leave moulds of its hands. So far he has -gone. And yet even now he clings to the idea that these phenomena may -be the externalization of some latent powers of the human body and mind. - -Such an explanation seems to me to be the desperate defence of the last -trench by one of those old-time materialists, who say with Brewster: -“Spirit is the last thing which we will concede,” adding as their -reason “it upsets the work of fifty years.” It is hard when a man has -taught all his life that the brain governs spirit to have to learn -after all that it may be spirit which acts independently of the human -brain. But it is their super-materialism which is the real difficulty -with which we now have to contend. - -And what is the end of it all? - -I have no idea. How could those who first noted the electric twitching -of muscles foresee the Atlantic cable or the arc lamp? Our information -is that some great shock is coming shortly to the human race which will -finally break down its apathy, and which will be accompanied by such -psychic signs that the survivors will be unable any longer to deny the -truths which we preach. - -The real meaning of our movement will then be seen, for it will become -apparent that we have accustomed the public mind to such ideas, and -provided a body of definite teaching, both scientific and religious, to -which they can turn for guidance. - -As to the prophecy of disaster, I admit that we have to be on our -guard. Even the Christ circle was woefully deceived, and declared -confidently that the world would not survive their own generation. -Various creeds, too, have made vain predictions of the end of the world. - -I am keenly aware of all this, and also of the difficulty in reckoning -time when seen from the other side. But, making every allowance for -this, the information upon the point has been so detailed, and has -reached me from so many entirely independent sources, that I have been -forced to take it seriously, and to think that some great watershed of -human experience may be passed within a few years--the greatest, we are -told, that our long-suffering race has yet encountered. - -People who have not gone into the subject may well ask, “But what do -you get out of it? How are you the better?” We can only answer that -all life has changed to us since this definite knowledge has come. No -longer are we shut in by death. We are out of the valley and up on the -ridge, with vast clear vistas before us. - -Why should we fear a death which we know for certain is the doorway to -unutterable happiness? - -Why should we fear our dear ones’ death if we can be so near to them -afterwards? - -Am I not far nearer to my son than if he were alive and serving in -that Army Medical Service which would have taken him to the ends of -the earth? There is never a month, often never a week, that I do not -commune with him. Is it not evident that such facts as these change the -whole aspect of life, and turn the grey mist of dissolution into a rosy -dawn? - -You may say that we have already all these assurances in the Christian -revelation. It is true, and that is why we are not anti-Christian so -long as Christianity is the teaching of humble Christ and not of his -arrogant representatives. - -Every form of Christianity is represented in our ranks, often by -clergymen of the various denominations. But there is nothing precise -in the definitions of the other world as given in the holy writings. -The information we have depicts a heaven of congenial work and of -congenial play, with every mental and physical activity of life carried -on to a higher plane--a heaven of art, of science, of intellect, of -organization, of combat with evil, of home circles, of flowers, of wide -travel, of sports, of the mating of souls, of complete harmony. This is -what our “dead” friends describe. - -On the other hand we hear from them, and sometimes directly, of the -hells, which are temporary spheres of purification. We hear of the -mists, the darkness, the aimless wanderings, the mental confusion, the -remorse. - -“Our condition is horrible,” wrote one of them to me recently at a -séance. These things are real and vivid and provable to us. That is why -we are an enormous force for the resuscitation of true religion, and -why the clergy take a heavy responsibility when they oppose us. - -The final result upon scientific thought is unthinkable, save that -the sources of all force would be traced rather to spiritual than to -material causes. - -In religion one can perhaps see a little more clearly. Theology and -dogma would disappear. - -People would realize that such questions as the number of persons in -God, or the process of Christ’s birth, have no bearing at all upon the -development of man’s spirit, which is the sole object of life. - -All religions would be equal, for all alike produce gentle, unselfish -souls who are God’s elect. Christian, Jew, Buddhist, and Mohammedan -would shed their distinctive doctrines, follow their own high teachers -on a common path of morality, and forget all that antagonism which has -made religion a curse rather than a blessing to the world. - -We shall be in close touch with other-world forces, and knowledge will -supersede that faith which has in the past planted a dozen different -signposts to point in as many different directions. - -Such will be the future, so far as I can dimly see it, and all this -will spring from the seed which now we tend and water amid the cold -blasts of a hostile world. - -Do not let it be thought that I claim any special leadership in -this movement. I do what I can, but many others have done what they -could--many humble workers who have endured loss and insult, but who -will come to be recognized as the modern Apostles. For my part, I can -only claim that I have been an instrument so fashioned that I have -had some particular advantages in getting this teaching across to the -people. - -That is the work which will occupy, either by voice or pen, the -remainder of my life. What immediate shape it will take I cannot say. -Human plans are vain things, and it is better for the tool to lie -passive until the great hand moves it once more. - - - - -INDEX - - - “Admirable Crichton, The,” Barrie, 247 - - “Adventure of the Priory School, The,” 102 - - “Adventure of the Second Stain, The,” 102 - - “Adventure of the Tired Captain, The,” 102 - - Aeroplane, the author’s one experience in an, 283 - - Algonquin Park, Canada, 300-301 - - Allen, Grant, and his unfinished “Hilda Wade”, 254-255; - his agnosticism and his last days, 255; - as a popular scientist, 256 - - “All the Year Round,” contributions to, 67 - - “Amazing Marriage, The,” Meredith, 244 - - Amery, Lionel, 208 - - Ancestry, 1-4 - - Antoine, General, 367, 368 - - Arctic, seven months in the, on a whaler, 29-41 - - Armistice Day, 386 - - Armour, suggestions during World War for use of, for troops, 332-333 - - Asquith, 241 - - Athletics, work in the interest of, 229-231 - - Australian sector of the front, a visit to the, 375-386 - - - “Backwater of Life,” Payn, 256 - - Balfour, Arthur James, first meeting with, 238-239; - his home at Whittinghame, 239-241; - abhorrence of cowardice, 240; - interest in psychic matters, 241 - - Ball, Mr., experiments in thought transference with, 78 - - Balloon ascension, delights of a, 282-283 - - Bampton, Lord, conflicting characteristics of, 260 - - Barrett, William, and telepathy, 78 - - Barrie, Sir James M., parody on Sherlock Holmes, 97-100; - a visit with, at Kirriemuir, 246-247; - dramatic work, 247; - his “The Admirable Crichton”, 247; - an unfortunate dramatic venture with, 248-249 - - Barrington, Sir Eric, 186 - - Baseball, opinion of the game of, 287-288 - - Bell, Professor Joseph, 20-21; - Sherlock Holmes based on, 69 - - Bergmann, Doctor, and the demonstration of the Koch cure, 82, 83 - - Berlin, demonstration of the Koch cure in, 82-84 - - “Beyond the City,” 93 - - Billiards, the supposed analogy between golf and, 271; - ascertaining one’s “decimal” in, 272; - experiences with the game, 272-273 - - Birkenhead, Lord, 231 - - “Blackwoods,” contributions to, 68 - - Blavatsky, Madame, 81 - - Boer War, the shadow of the, 147; - first reverses of the, 148; - organizing the Langman Hospital for the, 149-154; - press correspondents in the, 156; - days with the army in the, 160-173; - dum-dum bullets in the, 159, 183 - - Books, favourite, in boyhood, 7 - - Boxing, keen relish for the manly art of, 265; - some experiences in, 265-266; - from the national point of view, 266-267; - champions of old and of to-day compared, 267; - its influence in France, 268 - - Boyhood days, 5-7 - - “Boy’s Own Paper, The,” contributions to, 67 - - “Brigadier Gerard” stories, 115, 121; - dramatization of, 227-228 - - “British Campaign in France and Flanders, The,” 326-327 - - British Olympic Committee, 229 - - British front in the World War, on the, 335-352 - - Brown, Professor Crum, 19 - - Buller, Sir Redvers H., 174 - - Burnham, Lord, 238, 239 - - “Bush Villa,” Southsea, 75, 87 - - Business, unfortunate and fortunate ventures in, 234-235 - - Butler, General, dinner at head-quarters of the Third Corps with, 379 - - - Cambridge, Duke of, 152, 153 - - Canada, a trip through, in 1914, 287, 292-303 - - Capetown, South Africa, 154 - - “Captain of the Polestar,” 67 - - Carnic Alps, the warfare in the, 356-357 - - Cassidy, Father, the kindly principal at Hodder, 8 - - “Cause and Conduct of the War in South Africa, The,” inception of the - idea of writing, 184; - financing the scheme, 185-188; - the several translations of, 188-192; - beneficial effect of publication of, 192; - disposition of surplus earnings of, 192-194; 204 - - Caux, Switzerland, 120 - - “Chambers’ Journal” accepts author’s first story, 24 - - Channel Tunnel, 311, 312; - feasibility and value of a, 314-317 - - Childers, Erskine, 208 - - Christian faith, author’s changing views of the, 26-27 - - Churchill, Winston, 317, 332, 335 - - Civilian Reserve, formation of the, 323; - disbandment, 324 - - Classics, early distaste and later fondness for the, 9 - - Clemenceau, Georges, 360-361 - - Collins, Wilkie, 256 - - Conan, Michael, author’s granduncle and godfather, 15, 16 - - Conan, Miss. _See_ DOYLE, MRS. JOHN - - _Conan Doyle_, the steam trawler, in the World War, 331 - - Congo Association, work for the amelioration of conditions in the - Belgian Congo, 228-229 - - Constantinople, a visit to, 222 - - “Cornhill,” contributions to, 67, 68, 75; 89 - - Coronation Oath, protest against form of, 220-221 - - Corporal punishment in school days, 5, 10 - - Cricket, early recollections of, 273; - getting into first-class, 273-275; - two unusual experiences at, 275-276; - some memorable matches, 276-277; - with J. M. Barrie’s team, 278-279; - creditable records in bowling, 279 - - “Crime of the Congo, The,” 229 - - Cromer, Lord, impressions of, 123 - - Crowborough, removal to, 215 - - Crowborough Company, Sixth Royal Sussex Volunteer Regiment, 324-329 - - Cullingworth, Doctor, friendship with, at Edinburgh University, 52; - strange character of, 52-54; - author’s association with, 54-58 - - “Curious Experience of the Patterson Family in the Island of Uffa,” 102 - - Curzon, Lady, establishing a precedent in etiquette with, 259 - - - “Daily Telegraph, The,” article on the Koch cure in, 84 - - “Danger,” article in “The Strand Magazine,” 310 - - Davos, Switzerland, 115, 119, 120 - - “Desert Dream, A,” 124 - - “Dicky Doyle’s Diary,” 2 - - Divorce laws, work for reform in the, 231-232 - - Doctor, determination to become a, 17 - - “Doings of Raffles Haw, The,” 88 - - Donald, Robert, of the “Daily Chronicle,” 360-361 - - Dorando and the great Marathon Race of 1908, 223-225 - - “Dorian Grey,” Wilde, 73, 74 - - Doyle, Annette, author’s sister, 5, 17; - death of, 91 - - Doyle, Arthur Conan, birth, 1; - ancestry, 1-4; - boyhood days, 5-7; - the preparatory school at Hodder, 8; - the Jesuit public school at Stonyhurst, 8-12; - school-mates, 11; - first evidence of a literary streak, 11-12; - a year at school in Austria, 12-14; - feeling toward the Jesuits, 14-15; - first visit to Paris, 15-16; - adopts medicine as a profession, 17; - enters Edinburgh University Medical School, 18; - college life, 18-21; - outside work in spare time, 21-24; - first story accepted by “Chambers’,” 24; - his father’s characteristics, 24-25; - his spiritual unfolding and the Catholic Church, 25-27; - a whaling voyage in the Arctic Ocean, 29-41; - the ship’s company on the _Hope_, 30-32; - hunting seals, 33-36; - physical development, 41; - ship’s surgeon on the _Mayumba_ to West Africa, 42-51; - experiences on the West Coast, 45-50; - fire at sea, 50-51; - professional association with an eccentric character, 52-58; - in practice at Southsea, 59-61; - joined by his brother Innes, 61-62; - comedy and tragedy in practice, 62-64; - marriage, 64-66; - developing literary interests, 67-68; - genesis of “Sherlock Holmes,” 69-70; - “Micah Clarke,” 71; - James Payn, Oscar Wilde and others, 72-74; - “The White Company,” 74-75; - first ventures in psychic studies, 77-81; - birth of daughter Mary, 81; - the Koch tuberculosis cure, 81-84; - and W. T. Stead, 82; - advice from Malcolm Morris, 84-85; - first public speaking, 85-86; - leaving Portsmouth, 87; - a winter in Vienna, 88-89; - as an eye specialist in London, 89-90; - contributions to the magazines, 90; - virulent influenza, 90-91; - literature for a livelihood, 91; - “The Refugees,” 92-93; - and the death of Sherlock Holmes, 93-94; - sidelights on Sherlock Holmes, 96-110; - ventures in the drama, 96-97; - collaboration with Sir James Barrie, 97; - and Barrie’s parody on Holmes, 97-100; - fact and fiction regarding Sherlock Holmes, 100-110; - birth of his son Kingsley, 111; - joins the Psychical Research Society, 111; - and the literary life of London, 111-113; - “A Straggler of ’15” and Henry Irving, 113-114; - serious illness of Mrs. Doyle, 114-115; - to Davos, Switzerland, 115; - beginning of the “Brigadier Gerard” stories, 115; - lecturing tour in the United States, 116-119; - a strenuous winter, 117-118; - anti-British feeling in the States, 118; - back to Davos and Caux, 119-120; - locating in Hindhead, 121; - to Egypt in winter of 1896, 121; - some notable men in Egypt, 122-124; - a trip to the Salt Lakes, 125-128; - the war against the Mahdi, 130; - to the front as correspondent pro-tem., 130-138; - incidents of the trip, 131-137; - dinner with Kitchener, 137; - return from the frontier, 138; - the house in Hindhead, 140; - literary work, 140-141; - religious unrest, 141-142; - psychic experiences, 142-143; - and the little Doctor, 144-146; - the shadow of South Africa, 146-147; - the Boer War of 1899, 148; - early reverses, 148; - and the Langman Hospital service, 149-150; - experiments with rifle fire, 150-152; - and the Duke of Cambridge, 152-153; - in South Africa, 153-154; - inoculation for enteric fever, 154; - Boer prisoners, 155; - locating the hospital in Bloemfontein, 155-157; - outbreak of enteric fever, 157-159; - dum-dum bullets, 159; - days at the front with the army, 159-170; - return to the hospital, 170-173; - temporary illness, 174-175; - quelling a mutiny in the unit, 175-176; - to Pretoria and Johannesburg, 176-180; - interview with Lord Roberts, 178; - an unusual surgical operation, 181; - return to England, 182-183; - misrepresentation concerning England and the Boer War, 184; - an appeal to World Opinion, 184-194; - and “The Cause and Conduct of the War in South Africa,” 187-188; - translations and distribution of the pamphlet, 188-192; - success of the undertaking, 192-194; - experiences in politics, 195-203; - writes “The Great Boer War,” 204; - and the accolade of Knighthood, 205; - interest in rifle clubs, 207-208; - on the use of cavalry in war, 208; - completion of “Sir Nigel,” 209; - death of Mrs. Doyle, 209; - and the Edalji Case, 209-215; - second marriage, 215; - removal to Crowborough, 215; - and the Oscar Slater Case, 216-220; - protests the form of the Coronation Oath, 220-221; - visits Egypt, Constantinople and Greece, 222-223; - the Marathon Race of 1908, 223-225; - and the evil administration of the Belgian Congo, 228; - work in the interest of athletics in England, 229-231; - and reform of the Divorce Laws, 231-232; - continued interest in psychic matters, 232; - ventures in speculation, 233-235; - acquaintance with some notable people, 236-261; - impressions of Theodore Roosevelt, 236-238; - and Arthur James Balfour, 238-241; - Asquith and Lord Haldane, 241-242; - visit with George Meredith, 242-245; - acquaintance with Kipling, 245-246; - friendship with Sir James M. Barrie, 246-249; - and Sir Henry Irving, 249-250; - on George Bernard Shaw, 250-251; - long acquaintance with H. G. Wells, 251-252; - and his brother-in-law, William Hornung, 252; - correspondence with Stevenson, 253-254; - and Grant Allen, 255-256; - appreciation of James Payn, 256-257; - dinners with Sir Henry Thompson, 258; - settling a question of etiquette, 259; - impressions of Sir Henry Hawkins, 260-261; - and Sir Francis Jeune, 261; - recollections of sport, 262-286; - views on flat-racing and steeplechasing, 262-263; - on hunting for pleasure, 263-264; - a liking for fishing, 264-265; - on the noble sport of boxing, 265-268; - and the Jeffries-Johnson fight, 268-269; - love for Rugby football, 269-270; - and the game of golf, 270-271; - the lure of billiards, 271-273; - recollections of cricket, 273-279; - some motoring experiences, 280-282; - ski-ing in Switzerland, 283-285; - a trip to the Canadian Rockies in 1914, 287-300; - in New York, 287-289; - through the land of Parkman, 289-292; - on the wonders of Western Canada, 292-298; - in Jasper and Algonquin Parks, 298-301; - on the destiny of Canada, 301-302; - disbelief in the German menace, 304-305; - participates in the Prince Henry Competition, 305-308; - effect of Bernhardi’s writings on, 308; - “England and the Next War” by, 308-310; - interviewed by General Henry Wilson, 310-313; - meditations on methods of attack and defence, 313-314; - urges building of Channel Tunnel, 314-317; - on the lack of foresight in the Admiralty, 317-319; - suggests life-saving devices for the Navy, 319-321; - a letter from William Redmond, 321; - organizing the Volunteers, 323-324; - in the Sixth Royal Sussex Volunteer Regiment, 324-326; - on the writing of “The British Campaign in France and Flanders,” - 326-327; - conditions in England during the World War, 327-328; - communications with British prisoners, 329-330; - luncheon with the Empress Eugenie, 331-332; - suggests individual armour for troops, 332-333; - heavy losses of his kith and kin in the War, 333-334; - to the British front in 1916, 335-352; - crossing to France with General Robertson, 337-338; - a trip through the trenches, 339-341; - a medal presentation in Bethune, 341-342; - in an observation post, 342-343; - a meeting with his brother Innes, 343; - the Ypres Salient at night, 344; - the destruction and desolation in Ypres, 345-346; - on the Sharpenburg, 346-347; - luncheon with Sir Douglas Haig, 347-349; - an artillery duel at close quarters, 349-350; - meets his son Kingsley at Mailly, 350; - two days in Paris, 351-352; - a mission to the Italian front, 353-359; - attempts to reach Monfalcone, 354-356; - in the Carnic Alps, 356-357; - a day in the Trentino, 357-358; - a spiritual intimation of the victory on the Piave, 358-359; - effect of the death of Kitchener, 360; - an interview with Clemenceau, 360-361; - on the French front, 361-371 - in Soissons, 362; - through the French trenches, 362-365; - in the front line, 367; - the saviours of France, 371; - breakfast and an interesting talk with Lloyd George, 373-375; - a visit to the Australian front, 375-385; - a second meeting with his brother Innes, 378-379; - breaking the Hindenburg Line, 380-383; - in London on Armistice Day, 386; - the psychic quest, 387-399; - public expositions of his psychic belief, 388-390; - belief in the universality of the spiritual knowledge, 390-392; - tangible evidence for his faith, 392-393; - on the mistakes of science in investigations, 395-396; - personal assurance in his spiritual belief, 397-398; - as to the future, 398-399 - - Doyle, Mrs. Arthur Conan (_née_ Hawkins), 64; - marriage, 65; 85, 87; - development of a serious malady, 114; - to Switzerland in search of health, 115, 119; - a winter in Egypt, 121, 122, 130; - in Naples, 152; 204; - death of, 209 - - Doyle, Mrs. Arthur Conan (_née_ Leckie), marriage, 215; - Sultan confers Order of Chevekat on, 222; - home for Belgian refugees during the World War, 328; - psychic interests and activities of, 388 - - Doyle, Monsignor Barry, 2-3 - - Doyle, Charles, author’s father, born in London, 2; - enters Government Office of Works, Edinburgh, 2; - marriage, 4; - talent as an artist, 4-5; 17, 24; - characteristics of, 25; - death of, 25; - his religious faith, 25 - - Doyle, Mrs. Charles, author’s mother, 3; - marriage, 4; - early struggles of married life, 5, 12; - declines to dedicate son to the Church, 12; 17; - her changing religious faith, 25; 41, 55, 92 - - Doyle, Connie, author’s sister, 5, 17, 115 - - Doyle, Henry, author’s uncle, manager of the National Gallery, Dublin, 2 - - Doyle, Ida, author’s sister, 17 - - Doyle, Innes, author’s brother, 17; - joins brother in Portsmouth, 61; - letter to his mother, 61-62; - accompanies author on American lecturing tour, 116; - death of, 334; 343, 347, 378 - - Doyle, James, author’s uncle, 1; - literary and artistic ability of, 1-2 - - Doyle, John, author’s grandfather, reputation as a cartoonist, 1; - personal appearance of, 1; - his family, 1-2 - - Doyle, Mrs. John, author’s grandmother, 15 - - Doyle, Julia, author’s sister, 17 - - Doyle, Kingsley Conan, author’s son, birth of, 111; - death of, 334; 350, 351 - - Doyle, Lottie, author’s sister, 5, 17, 115, 121 - - Doyle, Mary, author’s daughter, 81, 85; - activities during the World War, 328 - - Doyle, Richard, author’s uncle, his whimsical humour, 2 - - Doyle, Sir Francis Hastings, 2 - - Drama, first venture in the, 113 - - Drayson, General, a pioneer in psychic studies, 79; - and spiritualism, 80 - - Drury, Major, 149, 175 - - “Duet, A,” 141 - - Dum-Dum bullets in the Boer War, 159, 183 - - Dupont, General, 369 - - - Edalji, George, a victim of the miscarriage of justice, 209-215 - - Edinburgh, birthplace and boyhood home of author, 1; - political activities in, in 1900, 195, 196-199 - - Edinburgh University Medical School, the author a student in, 18-21 - - Edmonton, Canada, 297 - - Egypt, a winter in, with Mrs. Doyle, 121-139; - men of note in, 122-124; - the temples and tombs of, 124-128; - the war against the Mahdi, 130-139 - - “England and the Next War,” the author’s article in the “Fortnightly,” - 308-310; - result of publication of, 310-313 - - Enteric fever, inoculation for, 154; - in the Boer War, 157-159 - - “Esoteric Buddhism,” Sinnett, 81 - - Eugenie, Empress, 331-332 - - - Feldkirch, Austria, a year in the Jesuit school at, 13-14 - - Fencing, limited experience in, 279 - - Fenians, first glimpse of the, 6-7 - - “Fires of Fate, The,” 124, 226-227 - - “Firm of Girdlestone, The,” 68 - - Fishing, a liking for the art of, 264-265 - - Foley, Mary. _See_ DOYLE, MRS. CHARLES - - Foley, William, author’s grandfather, 3 - - Foley, Mrs. William, author’s grandmother, 3-4 - - Football, the best collective sport, 269-270 - - Fort William, Ontario, 293, 294 - - France, Bernhardi’s opinion of the soldiers of, 308; - the Channel Tunnel and, 315; - typical soldiers of, 363-367, 369; - the saviours of, 371 - - Franco-German War, 8 - - French, General, Sir John, 330, 331 - - - George, Lloyd, 361; - breakfast and an interesting talk with, 373; - his estimate of Lord Kitchener, 373-374; - and the subject of armour, 375; - on the revolution in Russia, 375 - - Germany, author’s disbelief in possible trouble with, 304-305; - Bernhardi as a representative of thought in, 308 - - “Germany and the Next War,” Bernhardi, 308 - - Gibbs, Doctor Charles, 150, 175, 181-182 - - Golf, the fascination of, 270; - in Egypt, 270-271; - an obituary to the author’s, 271 - - Gray, Captain John, of the whaling ship, the _Hope_, 29, 30 - - “Great Boer War, The,” 204 - - Great Lakes, through the, 292 - - “Great Shadow, The,” 93 - - Gwynne, H. A., 137; - in South Africa, 156; 205 - - - “Habakuk Jephson’s Statement,” 67 - - Haig, General Sir Douglas, 331, 347; - luncheon with, 348; - personal appearance and traits of, 348-349 - - Haldane, Lord, 242 - - Hamilton, Sir Ian, 159 - - Hawkins, Miss. _See_ DOYLE, MRS. ARTHUR CONAN (_née_ HAWKINS) - - Hawkins, Sir Henry. _See_ BAMPTON, LORD - - Henneque, General, 365, 366 - - “Hilda Wade,” Allen, completed by author, 254-255 - - Hindenburg Line, the, 379, 381; - the break in the, 382 - - Hindhead, locating in, 121; 224 - - “History of the War” (World), 242 - - Hodder, two years in preparatory school at, 8 - - Home, Sir Anthony, 76 - - _Hope_, the Arctic whaling ship the, 29, 30, 33, 34, 36 - - Hornung, William, the author’s brother-in-law, 115; - brilliant in repartee, 252 - - “House of Temperley, The,” dramatization of “Rodney Stone” 225-226 - - “Human Personality,” Myers, influence on the study of psychics, 78 - - Humbert, General, 368 - - Hunting for sport unjustified, 263-264; - its effects on our better instincts, 264 - - - “Idler, The,” contributions to, 112-113 - - Influenza, virulent attack of, 91 - - “Inner Room, The,” 94-95 - - Ireland, founding of the Doyle family in, 2; - early visit to, 6-7 - - Irving, Sir Henry, 113-114; - acquaintance with, 249; - Bernard Shaw and, 250 - - Irving, Henry, the younger, 114 - - Italy, at the front in, 353-358; - difficulties of the terrain in, 354, 356-358 - - - “Jane Annie,” in collaboration with Barrie, 248 - - Jasper Park, Canada, 287, 298-300 - - Jerome, Jerome K., 112, 253 - - Jesuits, school life under the, 8-12; - in Austria with the, 12-13; - author’s feeling for and opinion of the, 14-15 - - Jeune, Sir Francis, 261 - - “John Creedy,” Allen, 256 - - “John Huxford’s Hiatus,” 68 - - - Kipling, Rudyard, 118; - the charm of his writing, 245; - in his Brattleboro home, 245-246 - - Kitchener, 123, 131, 137, 138, 178, 179, 241; - death of, 360; - Lloyd George’s estimate of, 373-374 - - Knighthood, receiving the accolade of, 204-205 - - Koch, Doctor, and his so-called cure for consumption, 81, 83 - - - Lang, Andrew, favourable opinion of “Micah Clarke,” 71 - - Langman, Archie, 149; - captured and released by De Wet, 176 - - Langman, John, 149 - - Langman Hospital, service with the, in the Boer War, 147-183 - - Leckie, Jean. _See_ DOYLE, MRS. ARTHUR CONAN, _née_ LECKIE - - Lecturing tour in America, 116-119 - - Lewis, Colonel, of the Egyptian army, 126-129 - - “Light,” contributes article to, 80; 111 - - “Lippincott’s Magazine,” contribution to, 73 - - “Literary Reminiscences,” Payn, 256 - - Literary work, 67, 90 - - Literature, first knowledge of talent for, 11-12; - first attempts in, 24 - - Lodge, Sir Oliver, 205 - - London, residence in, 89; - literary life in, 1880-1893, 111-113 - - - McClure, S. S., 119 - - McLean, Colin, acting mate of the _Hope_, 30 - - Maloja, Switzerland, 115 - - Maxse, Leo, 361 - - Maxwell, W. B., 253, 262 - - _Mayumba_, S. S., to West Africa on the, as surgeon, 42; - life aboard the, 49; - on fire at sea, 50-51 - - Medical practice, Plymouth, 54-56; - Portsmouth, 57-87 - - Medicine, determines on the study of, 17-18; - first experiences in practice of, 22-24 - - Meredith, George, talents and shortcomings of, 242, 243; - a visit to, at Box Hill, 243-244; - his brilliant conversation, 244; - religious convictions, 245; 256 - - “Micah Clarke,” author’s first historical novel, 71 - - Milner, Sir Alfred, 182 - - Mind, opinion on the nature of the, 78 - - “Miracle Town,” 332 - - Monash, General Sir John, luncheon at head-quarters of Australian - troops with, 378 - - Monfalcone, Italy, perilous attempt to reach, 354-356 - - Morris, Doctor Malcolm, 82, 84-85 - - Motoring, a disagreeable experience in, 280; - fascination of, 280; - accidents and humorous incidents when, 281; - an international competition in, 282 - - “Mystery of the Sassassa Valley, The,” the author’s first adventure - story, 24 - - - Navy, lack of foresight in the, 317-318; - protection from mines for, 318-319; - safety devices for crews, 319-321 - - Newton, Lord, 335, 336, 337 - - New York, a week in, 287-289 - - Nile, a trip up the river, 124-125 - - Northcliffe, Lord, 229, 231, 315 - - Norwood, home in, 91, 111, 113; - leaving, 115 - - - O’Callaghan, Doctor, 149 - - “Occult World,” Sinnett, 81 - - Olympic Games, of 1908, 223-225 - - - Pack, Sir Denis, 3 - - Pack, Katherine, author’s grandmother. _See_ FOLEY, MRS. WILLIAM - - Pack, Reverend Richard, 3 - - Padua, Italy, 353 - - Paget, Sidney, original illustrator of “Sherlock Holmes,” 101 - - “Parasite, The,” 93 - - Paris, first visit to, 15-16; 89; - during the World War, 351, 352 - - Parkman, Francis, author’s opinion of, 93; - preparation for his life work, 290; - the charm of his style and his work, 290-291 - - Parliament, unsuccessful attempts to enter, 195-203 - - “Pavilion on the Links, The,” Stevenson, 253 - - Payn, James, 67, 69, 71, 72, 75; - his humorous view of life, 256-257; - a kindly critic, 257 - - “Physiologist’s Wife, The,” 68 - - Piave River, psychic revelation regarding the, 358-359 - - Picardy Place, Edinburgh, birthplace of author in, 1 - - Plymouth, associated with Doctor Cullingworth in, 54-56 - - Podmore, Mr., psychic experience with, 142-143 - - Poetry, early attempts in, 11-12 - - Politics, first entry in, 86; - two unsuccessful efforts in, 195-203 - - Pond, Major, manages author’s lecturing tour in America, 116 - - Port Arthur, Ontario, 293 - - Portsmouth, in practice in, 55-87 - - Portsmouth Literary and Scientific Society, the, 85 - - Pretoria, South Africa, 176, 178 - - Prince Henry Competition, the so-called motor race, 305-307 - - Public speaking, first attempts at, 85; - in political campaigns, 86 - - Psychic, studies, early contempt for, 77; - author’s materialistic viewpoint in, 77; - nature of the mind and soul, 78; - influence of telepathy on, 78; - table turning, 79; - growing interest in, 111; - researches and experiences, 142-146; - séances, 232; - the later quest, 387-399 - - Psychical Research Society, member of, 111 - - - Racing, author’s lack of interest in flat-, 262-263 - - Rationalist Association, 141 - - Reading, early taste for, 7 - - Redmond, Major William, 321-322 - - “Refugees, The,” 92, 93, 140-141 - - Reichenbach, Falls of, the tomb of Sherlock Holmes, 93-94 - - Reid, Mayne, a favourite author in boyhood, 7 - - Repington, Colonel, 316, 318, 325, 337 - - “Richard Feverel,” Meredith, 243, 245 - - Rifle, value of the, as an arm, 207-208 - - Rifle clubs, formation of, 207, 285 - - “Rights and Wrongs,” Cook, 185 - - “Ring of Thoth, The,” 68 - - “Robert Elsmere,” Ward, 256 - - Roberts, Lord, 157, 174, 178, 207, 313 - - Robertson, General William, 337, 338 - - Rocky Mountains, first view of the, 298 - - “Rodney Stone,” 96, 225, 266 - - Roman Catholic faith, author’s family and the, 2; - author’s changing views of the, 25-27 - - Roosevelt, President Theodore, recollections and impressions of, 236-238 - - Rosicrucians, 146 - - Rugby football. _See_ FOOTBALL - - Russia, Lloyd George on the revolution in, 375 - - Rutherford, Professor, 19 - - - Sackville-West, Colonel, and the interview with General Henry Wilson, - 310-313 - - “St. Ives,” unfinished by Stevenson, 254 - - Sandow, Eugene, 205, 206 - - Sanna’s Post, in the Boer War, 159 - - Sault Ste. Marie, 292-293 - - “Scalp Hunters,” a favourite book in boyhood, 7 - - Scharlieb, Doctor, 150 - - School days, early, 5-7; - at Hodder, 8; - at Stonyhurst, 8-12 - - Seals, in the Arctic in the close season, 33-34; - and the open season, 34-35 - - Sharpenburg, the view from the, 346-347 - - Shaw, George Bernard, 250; - and Henry Irving, 250; - controversial spirit of, 250-251; - peculiar characteristics of, 251 - - “Sherlock Holmes,” the origin of the character of, 69; - interest of the public in character of, 92, 93; - concern of public at death of, 94; - letters addressed to, 94; - sidelights on character of, 96-110; - dramatizations of the character, 96-97; - Barrie’s parody of, 97-100; - author’s original conception of, 100-101; - film productions of, 101 - - “Sign of Four, The,” 73 - - “Silver Blaze,” 102 - - “Sir Nigel,” 75, 209 - - Ski-ing, experiences in, 283-285 - - Slater, Oscar, a victim of the miscarriage of justice, 216-220 - - Smith, Reginald, 186, 191, 193, 194 - - Society for Psychic Research, 142-143 - - Soissons, the ruins of the cathedral of, 362 - - Sophia, Mosque of, 222-223 - - Soul, opinion on the nature of the, 78 - - South Africa, shadow of war in, 146-147; - arrival in, 154; - first impressions of, 155-156; - pamphlets on British methods and objects in, 184-194 - - “Speckled Band, The,” 96, 226 - - Speculation, ventures in, 233-234 - - Spiritualism, 80, 81 - - Sport, some recollections of and reflections on, 262-286 - - “Stark Munro Letters, The,” based on first experiences in medical - practice, 52; 66, 111 - - Stead, W. T., 82 - - Steeplechasing, more of a true sport than flat-racing, 263 - - Stevenson, Robert Louis, the influence of, on author, 253; - correspondence with, 253-254; - the unfinished “St. Ives” by, 254 - - Stonyhurst, the great Jesuit school at, 8; - the seven years at, 9-12 - - “Strand Magazine, The,” 90 - - “Straggler of ’15, A,” 113; - dramatization of, 113-114 - - “Study in Scarlet,” 69-70, 100 - - Submarine, possible effect on England in warfare of the, 309-310, 313, - 314 - - Switzerland, visits, 93; - to, for Mrs. Doyle’s health, 115, 119, 120 - - Symonds, Lily Loder, 334 - - Symonds, Captain William Loder, 329, 330 - - - Tank, its influence on the World War, 333; - viewing a battle from the top of a, 381-382 - - Tariff Reform, in election of 1905, 199-203 - - Telepathy, first experiments in, 78 - - “Temple Bar,” contributions to, 67 - - Territorials, the, 309, 312, 323 - - Thackeray, William Makepeace, 6 - - Theosophy, interest in, 80, 81 - - Thompson, Sir Henry, 184, 185; - and his famous “octave” dinners, 258 - - Thought transference, experiments in, 78 - - “Three Correspondents, The,” 136 - - “Three Men in a Boat,” Jerome, 112 - - Thurston, Father, 11 - - Ticonderoga, Fort, 291 - - “To Arms,” in collaboration, 327 - - “Tragedy of the Korosko, The,” 124 - - “Transvaal From Within,” Fitz-Patrick, 185 - - Trentino, in the, during the World War, 357-358 - - - Udine, the Italian head-quarters town, 353 - - “Uncle Bernac,” 141 - - “Undershaw,” the home in Hindhead, 140 - - University of Edinburgh, studies medicine at, 17-18, 21; - graduates from, 41 - - - Vaughan, Bernard, 11 - - Vicars, Sir Arthur, 3 - - Vienna, a winter of study in, 88-89 - - Volunteer Force, formation of, at outbreak of the World War, 324 - - - Waller, Lewis, 227, 228 - - Ward, Mrs. Humphry, and the life of the Victorian era, 256 - - Watt, A. P., 90 - - Wells, H. G., democratic frankness of, 251, 252; - forecasts of the future, 252 - - West African Coast, voyage to the, 42-51 - - “Westminster Gazette,” honorary correspondent in Egypt for the, 130-139 - - Whaling in the Arctic, 29-41 - - “White Company, The,” 74; - author’s opinion of, 75; - its success, 75; 89 - - Wilde, Oscar, favourable opinion of “Micah Clarke,” 73; - as a conversationalist, 73; - letter from, 74 - - Wilson, General Henry, interview with, after publication of “England - and the Next War,” 310-313 - - “Windlesham,” the home in Crowborough, 215 - - “Window in Thrums, A,” Barrie, 246 - - Winnipeg, Canada, 294, 295, 297 - - World War, prologue of the, 304-322; - formation of the Volunteer Force at opening of, 324; - conditions in England during the, 327-328; - on the British front in the, 335-352; - the Italian front in the, 353-359; - a visit to the French front, 361-371; - the Australian sector of the line, 375-386 - - Wound stripes, on British uniforms, 371 - - - Ypres Salient, the, at night, 344; 345-346 - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - -Obvious printer’s errors and typos have been silently corrected. -Legitimate variations in spelling and grammar have been retained. 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