Life of Frederick Courtenay Selous, D.S.O., Capt. 25th Royal Fusiliers
by John Guille Millais · English · Gutenberg #39581 · 900,408 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Life of Frederick Courtenay Selous, D.S.O., Capt. 25th Royal Fusiliers
Author: John Guille Millais
Release date: April 30, 2012 [eBook #39581]
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF FREDERICK COURTENAY SELOUS, D.S.O., CAPT. 25TH ROYAL FUSILIERS ***
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive.)
LIFE OF FREDERICK COURTENAY SELOUS, D.S.O.
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._
=The Mammals of Great Britain and Ireland.= 3 vols. Quarto,
cloth, gilt top, L18 18s. net.
VOLUME I, Order Cheiroptera, Order Insectivora, Order Carnivora.
With 18 Photogravures by the Author; 31 Coloured Plates by the
Author, ARCHIBALD THORBURN, and G. E. LODGE; and 63 Uncoloured
Plates by the Author, and from Photographs.
VOLUME II, Order Carnivora (_continued_) and Order Rodentia.
With 21 Photogravures by the Author, H. GROeNVOLD, G. E. LODGE,
and from Photographs by D. ENGLISH; 19 Coloured Plates by
ARCHIBALD THORBURN and G. E. LODGE; and 33 Uncoloured Plates by
the Author and from Photographs.
VOLUME III, Rodentia (_completion_), with the Hares and the
Rabbit; the Cervidae (The Deer family); the Bovidae (the Oxen),
and the Cetaceae (Whales). With 23 Photogravures from Drawings by
the Author, H. GROeNVOLD, and E. S. HODGSON; 12 Coloured Plates
by the Author, A. THORBURN, and H. W. B. DAVIS, R.A.; and 44
Uncoloured Plates by the Author, A. THORBURN, Sir EDWIN
LANDSEER, and from Photographs.
=Newfoundland and its Untrodden Ways.= With 2 Maps, 6 Coloured
Plates, 6 Photogravure Plates and 115 other Illustrations by the
Author and from Photographs. Royal 8vo, cloth, 22s. net.
=The Wildfowler in Scotland.= With a Frontispiece in
Photogravure after a Drawing by Sir J. E. MILLAIS, Bart.,
P.R.A.; 8 Photogravure Plates, 2 Coloured Plates, and 50
Illustrations from the Author's Drawings and from Photographs.
Royal 4to, cloth, gilt top, 30s. net.
=The Natural History of the British Surface-Feeding Ducks.= With
6 Photogravures and 66 Plates (41 in Colours) from Drawings by
the Author, ARCHIBALD THORBURN, and from Photographs. Royal 4to,
cloth, gilt top, L6 6s. net.
=British Diving Ducks.= With Coloured, Photogravure, and
Collotype Plates by ARCHIBALD THORBURN, O. MURRAY DIXON, H.
GROeNVOLD, and the Author. 2 vols. Imperial 4to, cloth, gilt top,
L12 12s. net.
=Rhododendrons,= in which is set forth an account of all species
of the genus Rhododendron (including Azaleas) and the various
Hybrids. By J. G. MILLAIS, F.Z.S., M.B.O.U. With Coloured Plates
by ARCHIBALD THORBURN, BEATRICE PARSONS, E. F. BRENNAND, and W.
WALKER; also 14 Collotype Plates and numerous Half-tone
Illustrations. 4to. 16 x 12 ins. L8 8s. net.
LONGMANS, GREEN & CO.,
LONDON, NEW YORK, BOMBAY, CALCUTTA AND MADRAS.
[Illustration:
Photo: J Russell & Sons.
Frederick Courtenay Selous, D.S.O.,
Captain 25th ROYAL FUSILIERS.
Killed in Action, January 4th, 1917.]
LIFE OF FREDERICK COURTENAY SELOUS, D.S.O.
CAPT. 25TH ROYAL FUSILIERS
BY
J. G. MILLAIS, F.Z.S.
Author of
"Rhododendrons,"
"The Mammals of Great Britain and Ireland,"
"The Wild Fowler in Scotland,"
"Newfoundland and its Untrodden Ways,"
"The Natural History of the British Surface-Feeding Ducks,"
"British Diving Ducks," etc.
WITH 14 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR AND 2 PORTRAITS
SECOND IMPRESSION
NEW YORK:
LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.
FOURTH AVENUE AND 30TH STREET
1919
PREFACE
In preparing the life of my friend, Fred Selous, I have to thank his
brother Edmund, and his sister Mrs. Jones (Ann Selous) for contributions
regarding his parents and early life. I am also indebted to his friends,
Sir Alfred Pease, Captain P. B. Vanderbyl and Mr. Heatley Noble for
certain notes with regard to short expeditions made in his company. Mr.
Abel Chapman, a life-long friend, has also assisted me with numerous
letters which are of interest. But most of all have I to thank Mrs.
Selous, who from the first has given me every assistance in furnishing
details of her husband's adventurous life, and allowed me to read and
extract from the numerous letters he wrote to different members of his
family during a considerable part of his life. Selous had many friends,
but none evinced a more keen understanding of his life and work than
Colonel Theodore Roosevelt, Ex-President of the United States, and I
feel grateful to him for the attention he has given to the following
pages and the use he has allowed me to make of his numerous letters.
The Author has also to thank Messrs. Macmillan and Co. and Messrs.
Rowland Ward and Co. for the use they allowed him to make of two of
Selous' works, namely, _A Hunter's Wanderings_ and _Travel and Adventure
in S.E. Africa_. He is much indebted to their kindness in this matter,
since they give in the hunter's own words accurate details of his life.
J. G. MILLAIS,
COMPTON'S BROW, HORSHAM.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
1851-1865
Ancient and modern heroes--The character of Selous--The Selous
family--Edmund Selous' notes--An artistic and ancient
race--Selous' parents--Family life--Selous' father--Some of his
reminiscences--His mother--His uncles--Selous' childhood in
London--Early schooldays--Selous' own story of his youth--His
first battle--Youthful adventures--His athletic prowess--Life at
Belton Page 1
CHAPTER II
1865-1870
He enters Rugby--Love of books of travel--Life at Rugby--Rugby
football in the old days--"Butler's leap"--Excursions in Natural
History--Adventures out of bounds--The Pilton Range
episode--Raid on the Heronry at Coombe Abbey--A cold
swim--Unjust treatment--Wanderings with the rifle--Chased by the
keeper--Mr. Boughton Leigh's broad-mindedness--The ice accident
at Regent's Park--The panic--A narrow escape--Canon Wilson's
recollections of Selous as a schoolboy--"Williamson's"
duck--Neuchatel--Wiesbaden--His friend Colchester--A row with
the forester--He flies to Salzburg--Butterfly
collecting--Chamois hunting--The Franco-German War--Its
unpopularity in Austria--His estimate of the German
character--Visit to Vienna--Back in England 29
CHAPTER III
1871-1875
The influence of literature--Books on Africa--Thomas
Baines--Baldwin--Selous lands in Africa--Leaves Port
Elizabeth--Sport on the road--Arrival at Kimberley--A short
expedition into Griqualand--Starts for the north--His
companions--The first giraffe hunt--Lost in the bush--An
unenviable position--Loses his horse--Reaches safety--His first
lions--Meeting with Lobengula--The Matabele king's
humour--Cigar--Elephant hunters--Piet Jacobs--William
Finaughty--His life as an elephant hunter--Selous kills his
first elephants--Cigar's good qualities--Selous remains in
Matabeleland--Joins Wood in an elephant hunt--A great day--A
fatal accident--The Dett valley--Elephant hunting--Charged by a
cow--A narrow escape--A doubly loaded elephant gun--Further
adventures with elephants--Return to Bulawayo--Game in the Dett
valley--Selous goes north to the Zambesi--Visit to the
Chobe--Begins his collection of trophies--Adventures with
buffaloes--Abundance of game--His first lion--A savage
charge--Arrives at Tati 65
CHAPTER IV
1876-1878
Lands again at Algoa Bay--Reaches Matabeleland--Kills a fine
lion--George Westbeech--Return to the Diamond Fields--Loses a
fine lion--The comparative danger of hunting various wild
animals--Views of experienced hunters--Adventures with
buffaloes--Goes north to the Zambesi--Hunting in the Chobe
delta--Sepopo's elephant drives--A charging buffalo--Selous'
horse killed by a buffalo--Further adventures with
buffaloes--Their speed and cunning--A depressing outlook--Visit
to the Zambesi--Portuguese misrule--The Kafukwe country--An
unhealthy region--Illness of Owen and Selous--Restored to
health--Elephant hunting on the Hanyane river--Clarkson and
Wood--The death of Quabeet--A vicious cow--Nearly crushed--Kills
a lioness--Plans for the future 99
CHAPTER V
1879-1880
Intends to visit the Mashukulumbwe country--Expedition into the
northern Kalahari--The Botletlie river--Adventure with
lions--The difficulties of the Thirstland--The Mababe
flats--Oxen nearly exhausted--Finds water--Kills two lionesses
and two fine lions--Hunting on the Linyanti and Chobe--The death
of French--Sick with fever--Causes of the Zulu War--The
magnanimity of the Zulus--Selous' visit to Cetewayo--The story
of John Dunn--McLeod of McLeod--The Swazi king's
reasoning--Selous' views on the Zulu War--Sir Godfrey
Lagden--Selous again goes to Matabeleland--J. S. Jameson, some
details of his life--Expedition to Mashunaland--Return to
England--Causes of the first Boer War--Selous' first
book--Slaughter of game in South Africa--The ethics of Big Game
hunting 120
CHAPTER VI
1881-1885
Return to South Africa--Intends to be an ostrich farmer--Goes
north again--The snake-stone--Collecting specimens of big game
and butterflies--A bold lioness--Visit to Khama--Lion attacks
the camp--Death of the lion--Laer's narrow escape--Kills a
leopard--Reaches the Zambesi--Goes south and then returns to
Mashunaland--The Manyami plateau--A savage leopard--Adventure
with a lion--The hippopotamus row--A poor outlook--Visit to the
Mababe--A man-eating lion--Return to Bulawayo--The white
rhinoceros--A wonderful herd of elephants--A great day spoiled
by a sulky horse--Frequently charged by elephants--A savage
cow--Curious magnanimity to a horse--Liechtenstein's
Hartebeest--A gallant sable antelope--Havoc amongst the
dogs--Danger from wounded sable and roan antelopes 141
CHAPTER VII
1886-1889
Expedition to Mashunaland with Messrs. Jameson, Fountaine and
Cooper--A serious accident--Sets out for Barotsiland--Arrival at
Wankie's--Extortion by the Batonga chiefs--Monzi--The
Mashukulumbwe--Into the jaws of death--Attack on Selous'
camp--Selous escapes south--Pursuit by the natives--Lucky
meeting with a Wildebeest--His rifle stolen--Nearly
shot--Reaches Monzi's village--A dangerous
position--Marancinyan--Suspicious friendship--Moves south with
guides--Meets some of his men--Their adventures--Reaches
Panda-ma-tenka--Sikabenga's treachery--Crosses the Zambesi
again--Wanderings in Barotsiland--Return to Bamangwato 157
CHAPTER VIII
1889-1892
Expedition to the Mazoe river--Reaches Tete--The extortions of
Maziwa--Mapping the new country--Discovery of Mt.
Hampden--Trouble with the Portuguese--The importance of
Mashunaland to Great Britain--Selous' scheme of
occupation--Rhodes' plans--Lobengula and Cecil Rhodes--The
Charter of the British South African Company--Selous' proposed
road--The pioneer expedition starts--The cutting of the
road--Lobengula's ultimatum--The road complete from Tuli to
Salisbury--Treaties with local chiefs--The Odzi road--The
Portuguese attack Massi-Kessi--A fiasco--A night with
lions--Visits the Pungwe district--A great game
country--Progress in the new country--Leaves South Africa--The
Hartley Hills lion--An unfortunate miss-fire--A gallant
foe--Death of the lion--Lion hunters--The brothers Hill--Methods
of hunting--Sir Alfred Pease--Selous' writings--The Government
neglect of science--The jealousy and poverty of scientific
societies--America's good example--The miserable treatment of
African explorers--Selous and Rhodes--The rewards of hard
work--The pioneer's only monument 172
CHAPTER IX
1893-1896
Cupid at work--Engagement to Miss Maddy--Intends to visit
America--Trouble in Matabeleland--History of Matabele raids--The
position in 1893--Hunters enter Matabeleland--Selous returns to
South Africa--Joins Col. Goold-Adams' column--Preliminary
fights--Selous wounded--The first battle--The Matabele retreat
north--Disaster to Major Wilson's column--Selous'
prophecy--Return to England--Marriage--Honeymoon on the Danube
and in Asia Minor--Hunting in the mountains of Asia
Minor--Leaves again for Mashunaland--Essex vale--The new
Bulawayo--The cloud of trouble--The Umlimo--The rising of the
natives--The defence force--Col. Johan Colenbrander--Driven from
Essex vale--Isolated engagements--The fight on the
Umguzra--Selous surrounded--His horse runs away--His life saved
by Capt. Windley--A narrow escape--Work on the main
road--Arrival of Sir H. Plumer--Mr. Labouchere's views of the
second Matabele War--The future of S. Rhodesia--The difficulties
of farming there--Markets too distant--Selous attacked by
Labouchere--Messrs. Rowland Ward and Co.--Their kindness to
Selous--The Nyala--Expedition to the Pongolo and Usutu
rivers--An unhealthy country--Return to England 197
CHAPTER X
1896-1907
Selous' restlessness and love of travel--Roosevelt on the charms
of travel--Criticism of travel books--Selous as an egg
collector--Second visit to Asia Minor--Short excursions at
home--Goes with his wife to the Rockies--Wapiti
hunting--Roosevelt on past and present hunting in N.
America--Hunting chamois in Transylvania--Selous on the second
Boer War--An Imperialist, but always fair--His sorrow as to the
causes of the war--Personal knowledge of the Boers--An
honourable foe--Their ignorance and good qualities--Selous'
views on their unjust treatment--Letter to the
"Speaker"--Roosevelt on the Boers--Birds'-nesting on the
Danube--Hunting moose in Canada--Newfoundland caribou hunting on
the railway--A poor sport--Goes into the interior--Too late for
the migration--Second visit to Newfoundland--A successful
expedition--Third visit to Asia Minor--First expedition to East
Africa--A big game paradise--Birds'-nesting at home--First
expedition to Alaska--Visit to the Ogilvy Mountains--Up the
North Fork of the MacMillan--Kills a bull moose--Osborn's
caribou--A great moose--Bad weather--Third trip to
Newfoundland--A wet season--King George IVth Lake--A bad year
for heads 224
CHAPTER XI
1906-1907
A visit to Bosnia--Second expedition to Alaska--Down the
Yukon--Up the South Fork of the MacMillan--Caribou, wolf and
moose hunting--His sympathetic nature--Account of the MacMillan
trip--Again visits Asia Minor--Financial depression--Arthur
Neumann--Some details of his life--Reindeer hunting in
Norway--African nature notes and reminiscences--Letters from
President Roosevelt 257
CHAPTER XII
1908-1913
Roosevelt's expedition to Africa--Selous' arrangements--Selous
joins Roosevelt at Naples--Goes to the Northern Gwas N'yiro with
MacMillan--Fails to obtain lions--Accident to Mr.
Williams--Selous at Vienna--Warburton Pike--Expedition to the
Bahr-el-Ghazal--Goes to Tembera--Phil Oberlander--Killed by a
buffalo--Some stories of Oberlander--Selous' hunt for the Giant
Elands--A hard trip--Illness and rapid recovery--Third
expedition to East Africa--Judd's adventure with a
lioness--Roosevelt on African hunting--Physical
limitations--Selous' last buffalo--A gallant foe--Elani his
Somali nearly killed--Dislike of crowds--Visit to the Channel
Islands--Roosevelt on the early Normans--Heatley Noble on
Selous--Their expedition to Iceland--Selous'
imperturbability--His powers as a climber--Selous' idea of a
good dinner--Selous on his Icelandic trip--Yearnings for
Africa--Young Fred Selous--A true son of his father--His
athletic prowess--An excellent airman--His untimely death 267
CHAPTER XIII
1914-1915
Visit to Texel Island--Intends to make expedition to the
Bahr-el-Ghazal--Frustrated by the war--Selous'
patriotism--Efforts to serve--Lord Kitchener thinks him "too
old"--Col. Driscoll and the War Office--At last taken for
service in East Africa--Selous' account of the capture of
Bukoba--Letter to Heatley Noble--The position in East Africa in
1915--Letters to the author--German ascendancy--The Indian
Government forces--Precarious position of the British
forces--Intends to publish his experiences--Roosevelt's
letters--German thoroughness--Roosevelt anxious for America to
join the Allies--Letters to the author on the difficulties of
the campaign--Unfortunate mistakes--The Munyamwesi--Wonderful
fighters--Advance to Kilimanjaro--General Smuts in
command--Description of the advance--A deadly climate in the wet
season--Returns home for an operation--Again leaves for the
front 299
CHAPTER XIV
SEPTEMBER, 1916-1917
The last journey--Arrival at Tanga--German East Africa in
1916--The difficulties of the campaign--Progress by General
Smuts--The Royal Fusiliers go to Mikesse--A fearful
march--General Smuts on the action at Beho-Beho--Selous'
gallantry--His death at the head of his men--A noble
life--Captain Haines on the last days of Selous--Selous'
grave--General Smuts on the future of German East Africa 340
CHAPTER XV
CHARACTER, APPEARANCE, ETC.--SOME STORIES OF HIM
Untiring energy as a hunter--His modest requirements--Rifles--A
story of his practical nature--Sir Alfred Pease on Selous as a
hunter and naturalist--The average of shots required in various
lands--Selous as a hunter--His love of the
shot-gun--Perseverance to excel--The Brocklehursts--A lover of
cricket--Bicycling--The triumph of physical fitness--His
personal magnetism--Memory--Powers as a
story-teller--Diffidence--Inclined to melancholy--The spring of
perennial youth--The force of heredity--Slatin Pasha's
estimation of Col. Marchand--Selous' opinion of Marchand--Powers
of speech--His independence of thought and action--Literary
gifts--Kindness of heart--Hatred of crowds--The perpetual call
of the wild--Home-sickness--The nostalgia of travel--A great
reader--His preferences in literature--Personal
friends--Hospitality at home--Lewanika's fears--His attitude
towards religion--Roosevelt on Selous--Selous' great influence
as a pioneer--A noble life and a fitting end 352
INDEX 377
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FREDERICK COURTENAY SELOUS AT THE AGE OF 59 _Frontispiece_
TO FACE PAGE
THE PLAINS OF THE ORANGE FREE STATE IN 1871 64
SELOUS AS A YOUNG MAN, IN HUNTING COSTUME 80
ELEPHANTS 112
BUFFALOES ALARMED 144
ON THE MASHUNA PLATEAU 176
THE BATTLE OF THE STRONG 192
LIONS CHASING A KOODOO BULL 224
THE WANDERING MINSTREL 240
OSBORN'S CARIBOU 256
MT. KENIA FROM THE SOUTH 272
BULL MOOSE ABOUT TO LIE DOWN 288
MT. KILIMANJARO FROM THE NORTH 304
A SHOT ON THE PLAINS, BRITISH EAST AFRICA 320
FARU! FARU! 336
THEY CANNOT BREAK HIS SLEEP 368
THE LIFE OF FREDERICK COURTENAY SELOUS, D.S.O.
CHAPTER I
1851-1865
Men of all ages are apt to set up for themselves heroes. It is their
instinct to worship exceptional force of character and to follow a
leader; but as we survey the tempest of human suffering we are now more
apt to wonder if there are any great men left in the world and think
that perhaps, after all, we have made a mistake in putting on pedestals
the heroes of the past; for tried in the light of the present day they
would, perchance, not have proved heroes at all. The cynic may even
sneer at this lovable trait in human nature and affect to place all men
in a commonplace ratio, but then it is easier to be a cynic than a man
of faith. Nevertheless, Humanity must have something to trust, to
acclaim and admire, and so millions of all ages cling to their worship
of the hero, even though he may wear top hat and trousers. There will
always be great men amongst the mass of pygmies, though many say the age
of hero-worship has gone--doubtless swamped in the scale of colossal
events. Still, if the great men of the past were not as large as they
seemed, the little men of to-day may be greater, in spite of the fact
that the chief actors in the modern drama of life are nations and not
individuals.
But what constitutes a great man will ever be the result of individual
opinion. In Russia to-day millions, perhaps, think Lenin and Trotsky are
demi-gods, whilst an equal number call them traitors and would prefer to
see them hanged. To us, perhaps, the belief that Right will triumph over
wrong, and the man who in simple faith gives up all that is sweet and
pleasant to serve his country in the most fearful strife the world has
ever seen, is the embodiment of heroism. There are tens of thousands of
men who have done the same as Frederick Selous and none are less heroes
than he; each and all of them are as much entitled to their pedestal of
fame, although they may not have exhibited the mind that influences for
years in many lands. They have all counted the cost and endured the
sacrifice, and they do not talk about their inner thoughts. This, to our
minds, is true heroism.
So in studying the life of one Englishman, great in the sense that
everything he did was big, honourable, clever, and brave, we shall
realize how character is formed in the iron mill of experience, how a
man unhelped by wealth or social advantages and gifted only with
exceptional talents in a line, mainly unprofitable in a worldly sense,
came to win through the difficulties and dangers of a more than usually
strenuous life and reach the haven of completed work. Selous was a type
of Englishman of which we are justly proud. His very independence of
character and impatience of restraint when once he knew a thing was
right was perhaps his greatest asset. He knew what he wanted to do and
did it even if it resulted, as it did on one occasion, in his personal
unpopularity. It was this fearless striving towards the Light and
constant love of what was beautiful in Nature, that forced him into
Literature, so that others might see with his eyes the things that he
thought were best. And thus he rose and became a type and an influence
in our national life, and in time swayed the lives of others.
The Selous family were originally French Huguenots, who settled in
Jersey after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Annoyance at being
turned out of France caused Gideon Slous to omit the "e" from the
surname, but later this was re-adopted by his son Frederick Lokes
Selous, father of Frederick Courtenay. Of the character of his parents
and uncles Edmund Selous kindly sends me the following notes:--
"... I can only say generally, that my father was a man of high
and varied talents and very high character, of French, or at any
rate, Jersey descent, and that he started with nothing in life,
and with only such education (beyond what he owed to his mother,
an uncommon woman, who probably did better for him) as an
ordinary private school had afforded, equipped himself with
French and Italian in perfection, entered the Stock Exchange at
an early age, had a successful career there, and rose to be
Chairman of its Committee. He was a fine whist and chess player
(more especially, or more notedly, the latter) and was reputed,
I believe, at one time, to be the best amateur player of the
clarionet. Music was his constant and greatest delight, but his
pen was also an instrument which (though he sought no public
beyond his friends) he often used very entertainingly. He was a
brilliant--often a witty--talker, with a distinction of manner,
more French- than English-seeming in its light debonairness, and
his individualities, traits, foibles, etc., were so many and
vivid, that to write either of him or of Dr. Johnson with
scanted pen, would be much the same thing. My two uncles, the
artist and dramatist, who lived next door, on each side of us,
would also require portraiture for anything beyond this bare
statement. Both were out-of-the-canvas-stepping personalities,
carrying with them atmosphere and aroma.
"My mother was an exceptionally thoughtful and broad-minded
woman--more advanced, on most subjects, than where they stand
now--a vivid and vital being, of great vivacity, gladness (that
never was levity) and conversational powers, with a gift for the
interchange of ideas (which is not, by any means, always the
same thing). She was also a poet, as her little volume of
collected pieces, 'Words without Music' (a modest title)
testifies, at least to myself. She had joyous 'L'Allegro'-like
country instincts, a deep inborn love of the beauties of nature
(which she sketched charmingly), and great feeling for, and
interest in both plant and animal _life_. I underline that word,
in its last connection, because killing was quite another thing
for her, and her whole soul shrank away from it. But of course,
as you know, what, in root and origin, may be the same, is often
differentiated in the sexes, and so inherited by each. It was, I
think, undoubtedly through our mother (though he did not,
personally, much resemble either parent) that my brother
inherited everything that made him distinctively himself. By
this I mean that though much and that the best--as, for
instance, his patriotism and love of truth--may have come to him
from both sides, and some from the other only, it was that one
that gave to it, and the whole, its original life-shaping turn.
The whole was included in the blood of the Bruces of
Clackmannan, representative, I believe, of the elder branch of
the family that gave Robert Bruce to the throne of Scotland, but
what exact position, in our family tree, is occupied by Bruce,
the Abyssinian explorer, I do not quite know. However, he must
have been some sort of ancestor of my brother, and Bruce, since
the intermingling, has been a family name, though not given to
any of us surviving infancy, owing to an idea which had arisen,
through several instances of such association, that it had
become unlucky. In this regard, it has been rather the
patronymic, which, from one war to another, has borne the
malevolent influence. None have come back, either wounded,
invalided or at all. All killed outright--but this by the way.
Had it not been for my mother, therefore, my brother, in all
probability, would either never, or not in any preponderating
degree, have felt the 'call of the wild,' for my father not only
never felt it, but never was able to comprehend the feeling.
There was, in fact, nothing at all in him of what was my
brother's life and being. He was, in the proper evolutionary
sense of the word, essentially a civilized man and a Londoner.
Sport was, for him, an unknown (and much disliked) quantity, and
though taking, in an air-tight-compartment sort of way, some
interest in insects, he had not much about him of the real
naturalist. Those feelings (imperishably summed up by Jack
London in the title of his masterpiece) which, coming out of a
remote past, beckon back the only supposedly or but half-made-up
civilized amongst us, from late into early conditions, were not,
as I say, his heritage; and this was equally (or even more) the
case with his brothers--my two uncles--and as far as I know or
have ever heard, all the precedent members of the family. I
believe, therefore, that by the intervention--merciful or
otherwise--of the Bruce, Sherborn, and Holgate families, between
them, my brother was saved, or debarred, from going either into
the Stock Exchange or one of the settled professions. Which kind
of phraseology best suits the conjuncture I know not, but I
think I know what my brother's own opinion would be, since it
put the particular circumstances of that event of his life, in
which, of all others, he would esteem himself most happy and
fortunate--I mean his death--upon a footing of certainty.
"I have alluded to my brother's independence of home (or, I
think, of any) influence. I look upon him as a salient
illustration of Darwin's finding that the force of heredity is
stronger, in the individual, than that of education and
surroundings. So far back as I can remember--at least with any
distinctness--he was always just himself, with a settled
determination that, in its calm, unobtrusive force (giving the
idea of inevitability) had in it something elemental. He may not
have lisped Africa (which was far from the family thoughts) but,
if not, he, at least, came so near to it, as to have made us all
almost remember that he did. He seems to have brought with him
into this world 'from afar,' a mind long made up as to the part
he should play in it, and his career was more than half run
before any circumstance admitted by him as deflective from its
true course, arose..."
Mrs. Jones (Ann Selous) also paints a pleasing picture of the early life
of the family in their London house:--
"We lived in Gloucester Road, Regent's Park, in a house my
father built for himself. At that time there were no other
houses near, but all fields between his home and Primrose Hill,
some way off; but this superior state of things his children
never knew. Our uncles, my father's brothers, lived on either
side of us. My father was vice-Chairman of the Stock Exchange
for five years, and Chairman for three, until a very serious
illness obliged him to resign and give up everything in the way
of work. He was a fine chess player, his name is to be seen in
the games amongst those of the great players of the day. He was
also a very fine clarionet player, which instrument he taught
himself when very young, and I well remember his beautiful tone,
far beyond that of Lazarus, the chief professional player of the
day, who no doubt sacrificed tone to technique. Whenever there
was a speech to be made my father was equal to the occasion,
having great fluency and humour and real wit. He was a
delightful talker and his memory was a store-house of knowledge
and recollections that he could draw upon whenever required. He
was a very genial and admirable host, very high-spirited and
excitable. He could never forget the Revocation of the Edict of
Nantes, when the Huguenots, his forebears, were driven from
France. 'They turned us out! They turned us out!' he used to say
to my mother, a real thought of bitterness to him. His greatest
pleasure and relaxation was a walking-tour in Switzerland, a
land he specially loved. He had often been there with one or
other of his brothers, or with his great friend Baron Bramwell,
the famous judge. These trips must have been ideal, my father
and his brothers having in themselves everything that was
necessary to make them gifted in all the arts, and so
appreciative of nature and everything else, and with their
lively sense of humour and wide interests they were able to
extract the most from all they might chance upon in their
travels, those being the days before tourists flooded the
country and huge hotels swamped the more interesting inns. My
father loved the busy life of the City, and had no country
tastes such as farming or hunting, but he delighted in the life
by the river--in canoeing, specially--and in a farmer's country
home in the Isle of Wight, where, when we were children, we
spent the summers. He was a fine swimmer and would swim out with
one or other of us on his back. I well remember his energy,
mental and physical, were remarkable. The loss of sight seemed
only to affect his later years. His mind was clear and equal to
dealing with his affairs to the last. At a very advanced age he
had started tricycling and delighted in it. I think my father
and my brother Fred were very dissimilar in character, interests
and tastes. There was no 'call of the wild' in my father--nor, I
think, in my mother, except through her imagination. My father
left a few reminiscences which were never finished, as dictation
tired him--he was then over eighty and blind. They are full of
interesting memories which end unfortunately when he was still
very young."
"I was born," writes my father, "on the 9th of March, 1802.... I
was a precocious child, for I was told that I knew my letters at
about two years of age, and could read at three and a half and
recite on a table at about four. I perfectly recollect
declaiming the quarrel between Brutus and Cassius in
Shakespeare's 'Julius Caesar.' Also I remember the announcement
of the death of Nelson in October, 1805, and witnessing his
funeral procession in January, 1806.[1] I was perched on the
shoulders of a journeyman baker named Guesnel at the corner of
Poland Street, from whence I beheld the catafalque containing
the remains of the illustrious Nelson, the whole affair
resembling much the interment of the Duke of Wellington, which I
witnessed in 1852--forty-six years later. My brother Harry (the
artist, H. C. Selous), who was thirteen months younger than I,
remembers witnessing this spectacle too.... I can recollect
weeping bitterly at hearing the first news of our great
admiral's death, and the awe and wonder with which I looked upon
the ceremony of his interment.... I was sent to school at
Islington at the age of seven, and upon the master desiring me
to read from a book which he gave to me he expressed himself so
surprised at my reading that he told my mother he would not put
me into any of the reading classes of the upper boys, as I
should put them to shame. I was at that time so strong and so
hungry that I frequently carried some of the biggest boys round
the playground (which was a large one) for an extra slice of
bread and butter with which they repaid me. I was at school
about a twelve-month and then came under my mother's care for
instruction, and to her I owe more than I can possibly express
with regard to my early education. She taught me the French
language, Greek and Roman history, and the three R's--reading,
writing, and arithmetic. When I was ten years, I was sent to a
school called the Burlington school, where I improved my French,
became a tolerable Latin scholar, and gained a smattering of
mathematics. After being for two years at this academy, I was
recalled to home rule and education and never had any further
instruction from master or professor. At this time my brother
and myself were allowed to wander about the streets uncontrolled
and might have been considered as a sort of street Arabs, though
we always selected our associates carefully." (Later on my
father had to work very hard, very long hours, up till midnight
four days in the week, but it did him no harm, and he was very
strong and active. A great part of his time was occupied in
reading every variety of book he could get hold of, from which
he gained much general information, having an unusually good
memory. Plutarch's lives were his first admired works. Pope,
Addison and Johnson came next. He made the acquaintance of some
of the celebrated Italian singers and learnt to speak their
language fluently. All this part about the Italian singers is
very interesting, and many things connected with the theatre
likewise.)
"I also witnessed another performance which shocked me more than
anything I ever beheld, for I was then very young. It was in
1815 or 16, I think, I happened to be rather early one day in my
long walk to Great St. Helen's, which took me past St.
Sepulchre's and the broad opening to the narrow streets of the
Old Bailey. The sun was shining brightly across Newgate, and on
chancing to look towards Ludgate Hill I saw dangling to a beam
at the west side of Newgate five human beings suspended by the
neck. One of them was a woman, who with a feeling for symmetry
had been hung in the centre. All five had white night-caps drawn
over their faces to conceal the horrible convulsions of the
features. I don't know what their crimes had been, people were
hanged in those savage days for stealing a shilling, or even
cutting a stick from a plantation. The time appointed for
cutting down the bodies had nearly arrived, and the crowd had
diminished to an apathetic group principally engaged in cracking
nuts and jokes, and eating brandy balls all hot; but horror gave
speed to my steps and I soon left hideous Newgate behind me. I
recollect a great sensation caused by the execution of
Fauntleroy for forgery." Here end these notes by my father.
"I think I remember rightly that at fourteen my father was not
only making a livelihood for himself, but supporting his father
and mother. He was most charitable and had the kindest heart in
the world, and that high sense of honour which so distinguished
his son. I think that though these few extracts from his
reminiscences are not, perhaps, of importance, yet they throw
some light on my father's character, and indirectly it may be on
my brother's also, for certainly in strength of purpose, energy,
and will to succeed, also in vigorous health and constitution,
they were alike. They also had both a great facility for
learning languages. We were amused to read in a book on African
travel by, I think, a Portuguese, whose name for the moment I
forget, that he came across the great hunter (I forget if he put
it like that) Selous, 'somewhere' in Africa, who addressed him
in the French of the 'Boulevard des Italiens!' As I think this
traveller was supposed to have a lively imagination, we accepted
Fred's superior accent (after so many years of never speaking or
hearing French) with some grains of salt. But not very many
years ago at some international meeting to do with sport, at
Turin or Paris, Fred representing England, he made a speech in
French, on which he was much complimented, for accent, wit, and
fluency alike.[2]
"My mother, like my father, had a wonderful memory, and was a
great reader, from childhood, her home possessing a big library.
Scott was her great delight then, and indeed always, and poetry
was as nectar and ambrosia to her. She had great facility in
writing herself, very charmingly, both poetry and prose, all of
the fantastic and imaginative order, and she had quite a gift
for painting. Considering all the calls made on her time, of
home and family (social, likewise), which were never neglected,
it was wonderful that she could yet find time for all her
writing and painting. Her perseverance and industry in the arts
that she loved were really remarkable. We children greatly
benefited by her love of poetry and story, for she was a true
'raconteuse' and we drank in with delight the tales from the old
mythologies of romance and adventure. She would tell us of deeds
of 'derring-do' and all that was inspiring in the way of freedom
and love of country. Certainly with her, as with Sir Edward
Clarke, poetry was 'a never failing source of pleasure and
comfort' to the last. (As it was also with me.) In the last year
of her long life she could still repeat her poetic treasures
with the greatest fire and spirit. She had a vigorous and
original personality, with strong and decided views which she
would express with energy. Her hands were full of character,
strong yet most delicate, and much character in her features,
with a smile that lit up her face like a ray of sunshine. Her
maiden name was Sherborn--Ann Sherborn--(her mother's maiden
name, Holgate).... Her relations and ancestors were county
folk--gentlemen farmers some of them. The Sherborns of Bedfont
near Staines, held the great tythe, and her uncle was the
squire. None of the last generation married, the name has died
with them and may be seen only in the little Bedfont churchyard.
"My mother's uncle (her mother's brother), William Holgate, was
fond of searching out genealogies and he managed to trace the
Abyssinian Braces until it joined our Bruce family tree. There
were many original--and it may be eccentric--characters amongst
my mother's relations and forebears, and many interesting
stories that we loved to hear, about them. Her genealogical
tree interested us greatly, partly because the names were so
curious, as it went back to the early days of history, and
because of the stories connected with them, and also because if
not Bruce himself, his elder brother, David King of Scotland,
figured in it. Then there was Archbishop Holgate of York, who
was a great rogue (I looked up his life in the Minster precincts
when I was there) and hand and glove with Henry VIII in the
spoliation of the monasteries, yet he redeemed himself by the
establishment of Free Schools, which flourish in York to this
day.
"It may be that this spirit of romance and adventure that we
breathed in from our earliest years, had some influence on my
brother Fred, and fired his imagination; but why from the very
first there should have been the persistent desire like an 'idee
fixe' for Africa, I cannot tell, unless, indeed, it might be
something of 'Abyssinian' Bruce cropping up again. But as a
child he would have a waggon for a toy, to load and unload, and
for his school prize books he would always choose one on Africa.
This desire for the dark continent remained constant in him till
satisfied, and indeed to the last.
"My mother had quite an unusual interest in, and knowledge of,
natural history, and my father also made some fine collections
of butterflies, etc., which are still to be seen in my brother's
museum. My father's youngest brother, Angiolo--a man of the most
polished and courtly manners--was as dark as my father was fair.
Entirely educated by his mother, there was little in which he
did not excel. He had a beautiful voice and was a charming
singer, often to his own accompaniment on the guitar, and was a
well-known dramatist in his time, some of his plays being most
successful. How well I remember the first night of his 'True to
the Core,' when we all went across the river to the Surrey
Theatre and helped with our feet and umbrellas in the general
enthusiasm. He was a fine actor and dramatic reader, and a
charming artist. We have a perfect gem of his--Don Quixote,
sitting in his study--the colouring, the face and expression,
the painting, are perfect, and one feels that Don Quixote must
have looked just so. The haggard face and the wild look in the
eyes that are seeing visions. But it was unfortunate that my
uncle neglected this talent altogether. My uncle, Harry Selous,
was of course the artist, excelling chiefly, I think, in his
beautiful outlines of the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and his
'Metamorphoses of Ovid,' on which subjects he could draw on his
imagination for ever, it seemed. It is a thousand pities they
have never been produced. His illustrations of the Life of Bruce
and Hereward the Wake are fine, and The Prisoners of Calais and
Boadicea are well known. The latter most fine, I think. He would
paint the most charming landscapes with great rapidity, and his
chalk (coloured) and pencil sketches from his travels in
Switzerland are charming too, and endless numbers of them. He
painted some of the famous Coliseum panoramas, each in turn
being painted out by the next one, which always seemed very
dreadful. His original illustrations drawn on wood, were
exquisite, and it was cruel to see how they were spoilt in the
wood-cutting, but he valued his work so lightly that he did not
seem to mind much about it. My grandfather, Gideon Slous, had a
very great talent for painting, and was a fine colourist, quite
like an old master, and he painted some beautiful miniatures
also. He was a man of violent temper."
Frederick Courtenay Selous was born in the house in Regent's Park on
December 31st, 1851. The other children of his parents were: Florence,
"Locky," now Mrs. Hodges; Annie, married to Mr. R. F. Jones; Sybil,
"Dei," married to Mr. C. A. Jones; Edmund, married to Fanny, daughter of
Mrs. Maxwell (Miss Braddon). He is a well-known student of British
bird-life and has published many interesting books on British Natural
History.
Of the childhood of Frederick little more need be said. He was an active
little fellow, never more happy than when playing with his wooden waggon
and oxen or listening to his mother's stories of romance and adventure.
At the age of nine he went to school at Bruce Castle, Tottenham, of
which Arthur Hill was the headmaster, and there chiefly distinguished
himself by being constantly in trouble. Later he went for a short time
to a small school in Northamptonshire, kept by the Revd. Charles
Darnell, whose daughter (Mrs. Frank Juckes) recalls one characteristic
incident.
"One night my father on going round the dormitories to see that
all was in order, discovered Freddy Selous, lying flat on the
bare floor clothed only in his nightshirt. On being asked the
cause of this curious behaviour he replied, 'Well, you see, one
day I am going to be a hunter in Africa and I am just hardening
myself to sleep on the ground.'"
One day in 1914, I found Selous busy at his desk at Worplesdon. On being
asked what was the nature of his work, he said he was writing an account
of his school days for a boys' magazine. He did not seem to think it
would be of wide interest, and so had written his early adventures in
simple form merely for the perusal of boys and had changed his own name
to that of "John Leroux."
"It was a damp and dismal winter's day towards the end of
January, 1861, on which the boys reassembled after their
Christmas holidays at a well-known school not far from London.
Nevertheless, despite the gloom and the chilliness of the
weather conditions outside the fine old mansion which had but
lately been converted into a school, there was plenty of life
and animation in the handsome oak-panelled banqueting hall
within, at one end of which a great log fire blazed cheerfully.
Generally speaking the boys seemed in excellent spirits, or at
any rate they made a brave show of being so to keep up
appearances, and the music of their laughter and of their fresh
young voices was good to hear. Here and there, however, a poor
little fellow stood apart, alone and friendless, and with eyes
full of tears. Such unfortunates were the new boys, all of them
youngsters of nine or ten, who had left their homes for the
first time, and whose souls were full of an unutterable misery,
after their recent partings from fond mothers and gentle
sisters. The youngest, and possibly the most home-sick of all
the new boys was standing by himself at some distance from the
fire, entirely oblivious of all that was going on around him,
for he was too miserable to be able to think of anything but the
home in which he had grown to boyhood and all the happiness,
which it seemed to his young soul, he could never know again
amidst his new surroundings.
"Now as it is this miserable little boy who is to be the hero of
this story, he merits, I think, some description. Though only
just nine years old he looked considerably more, for he was tall
for his age, and strongly built. He was very fair with a
delicate pink and white complexion, which many a lady might have
envied, whilst his eyes sometimes appeared to be grey and
sometimes blue. His features, if not very handsome or regular,
were good enough and never failed to give the impression of an
open and honest nature. Altogether he would have been considered
by most people a typical specimen of an English boy of
Anglo-Saxon blood. Yet, as a matter of fact, as in the case of
so many Englishmen, there was but little of the Saxon element in
his composition, for whilst his father came from the Isle of
Jersey, and was therefore of pure Norman descent, his forebears
on his mother's side were some of them Scotch and others from a
district in the north of England in which the Scandinavian
element is supposed to preponderate over the Saxon. But though
our hero bore a Norman-French name the idea that he was not a
pure-blooded Englishman had never occurred to him, for he knew
that his Jersey ancestors had been loyal subjects of the English
crown ever since, as a result of the battle of Hastings, Duke
William of Normandy became King of England.
"It was not long before the new boy's melancholy meditations
were rudely broken in upon by a handsome lad of about his own
size, though he was his senior by more than a year. 'Hullo,'
said young Jim Kennedy, looking roguishly into the sad, almost
tearful, eyes of the young Jerseyman, 'who gave you that collar?
Why, you look like Queen Elizabeth.'
"A fond mother had indeed bedecked her darling boy with a
beautiful collar of lace work several inches in breadth which
spread over his shoulders, but which he soon found it advisable
to discard as it made him the butt of every wit in the school.
But though the collar was suppressed, the name of Queen
Elizabeth, that august lady to whom Kennedy when first
addressing him had declared that his mother's fond gift had
given him a resemblance, stuck to him for many a long day.
"The laughing, jeering interrogatory, acted like a tonic on the
new boy, who though of a gentle, kindly disposition, possessed a
very hot temper. His soft grey eyes instantly grew dark with
anger as looking his questioner squarely in the face he answered
slowly, 'What is that to you, who gave me my collar?'
"'Hullo!' again said Jim Kennedy, 'you're a cocky new boy.
What's your name?'
"'My name is John Leroux,' said the young Jerseyman quietly and
proudly, for his father had taught him to be proud of his Norman
ancestry, and had instilled into his son his own firm belief
that the Normans were a superior people to the Saxons, than whom
he averred they had done more for the advancement of England to
its present great position, and for the spread of the empire of
Britain over half the world.
"Kennedy repeated the unfamiliar name two or three times, and
then with a derisive laugh said, 'Why, you're a Frenchy.' Now
although it was quite true that on his father's side John Leroux
was of Norman-French descent, for some reason difficult to
analyse, the suggestion that he was a Frenchman filled his young
heart with fury. His face grew scarlet and his fists clenched
involuntarily as he answered fiercely, 'How dare you call me a
Frenchy! I'm not a Frenchman, I'm an Englishman.'
"'No, you're not,' said Kennedy, 'you're a Frenchy, a
frog-eating Frenchy.' Without another word young Leroux, from
whose face all the colour had now gone, sprang at his tormentor,
and taking him unawares, struck him as hard a blow as he was
capable of inflicting full in the mouth. And then the fight
commenced.
"Fifty years ago manners were rougher and ruder in these islands
than they are to-day. Prize-fighting was a respected and
popular calling, and set fights between boys at school of all
ages were of constant occurrence.
"A ring was soon formed around the combatants and though the
majority of the onlookers resented what they called the
'coxiness' of the new boy and wanted to see him get a licking,
there were quite a number of young barbarians whose sympathies
were entirely with Leroux, for his pluck in engaging in a fight
on his first day at school made a strong appeal to them. The
boys were evenly matched, for though Kennedy was more than a
year older, he was no taller, and little if any stronger than
his opponent, who, moreover, had had a certain amount of
instruction from his father in the use of his fists. The battle
had lasted for some minutes, and had been waged with the
greatest determination on both sides, and no very severe damage
to either participant, when the door at the end of the room
opened and Mr. Mann, the tall young Scotch mathematical master,
strode into the room. Taking in the position at a glance, he
elbowed his way through the crowd of boys, who were watching the
fight, and seizing the combatants simultaneously, each in one of
his strong large hands, he whirled them apart, and held them out
of reach of one another, though they both strained hard to
resume the fray.
"'You young rascals,' he said, 'why what on earth are you
fighting about, and on the first day of the term too! Now tell
me what on earth it was all about and make it up.'
"'He called me a Frenchman, and I'm not,' said young Leroux, and
the stress of battle over, the poor boy commenced to sob.
"A more generous lad than Jim Kennedy never stepped, and at the
sight of his adversary's distress, his dark eyes filled with
tears, and as Mr. Mann relaxed his grasp on his shoulder, he at
once came forward with outstretched hand to Leroux and said,
'I'll never call you a Frenchy again; shake hands and let us be
friends.' And so the two tearful young Britons, each of whose
faces bore some traces of the recent battle, shook hands and
from that time forth, as long as they were at school together,
became the most devoted of friends.
"This was John Leroux's first introduction to school life. Like
any other healthy vigorous boy, he soon shook off the
despondency of homesickness, and became perfectly happy in his
new surroundings. He worked well and conscientiously at his
lessons, and played hard at all games, and was not only a
general favourite with all his school-fellows, but was also
beloved by all the masters in spite of the fact that his
adventurous disposition was constantly leading him to transgress
all the rules of the school. With young Leroux the love of
nature and the desire for the acquisition of objects of natural
history of all kinds was an inborn and absorbing passion. Before
leaving home he had already commenced to make collections of
birds' eggs and butterflies, and throughout his schooldays his
interest in these and kindred subjects constantly grew. During
the spring and summer months all his time that was not occupied
in lessons or games was spent in birds'-nesting and collecting
butterflies, whilst in the winter he trapped and skinned water
rats and other small animals, and sometimes caught a stoat or a
weasel. He soon became by far the best and most venturesome
climber in the whole school, and there was not a rook's nest in
any one of the fine old elms or oak-trees in which these birds
built in the park in which the schoolhouse stood, from which he
was not able to get the eggs, which for the most part he gave
away to less athletic or adventurous collectors. After he had
been espied on one occasion high up amongst the nests in one of
the tallest elm-trees by the headmaster himself, who was
genuinely alarmed for his safety, all tree-climbing in the park
was forbidden. This rule was, of course, constantly broken, and
by no one more frequently than by Leroux. However, as it takes
some time to climb to a rook's nest, and as a boy is a
conspicuous object amongst the topmost branches of a tree in the
early spring before the leaves are out, our young friend was
constantly being detected either by one of the undermasters or
one of the men working in the grounds, who had all had strict
orders to be on the watch. It was owing to this persecution, as
he considered it, that Leroux conceived the idea of taking the
rooks' eggs he wanted at night, and with the help of Kennedy
and another kindred spirit he made several raids on the rookery
with perfect success when all the masters were in bed. The
dormitories were on the first story and therefore not very high
above the ground, and as the walls of the house were covered
with ivy, it was not very difficult for an active boy to get out
of the window and down or up the ivy-covered wall, with the help
of the rope which Leroux brought from home in his portmanteau
after one Christmas holiday. Having allowed sufficient time to
pass after Mons. Delmar, the French master, had made his nightly
rounds to see that all the boys were snug in bed, and all lights
out, Leroux and Kennedy, who were in the same dormitory, and who
had both apparently been fast asleep when the French master
passed through the room, suddenly woke up and producing a candle
and a box of matches from beneath their respective pillows,
kindled a light and hastily made their preparations. The window
having been softly opened, one end of the rope was fastened to
one of the legs of the nearest bed, whilst the free end was
lowered down the wall to the ground. This having been
accomplished the candle was blown out, and then Leroux and
Kennedy climbed down the ivy with the help of the rope. Although
all the boys in the dormitory took the greatest interest in
these proceedings and were ready to render any assistance
necessary, a boy named Barnett always hauled up the rope as soon
as the adventurers were on the ground, and hid it under the bed
near the window in case of accidents until their return, for
which he kept a sharp look-out. Once on the ground Leroux and
his companion made their way to one or other of several large
oak-trees in the park in which there were a number of rooks'
nests; for these oaks were not only not as lofty as the elms,
but were, moreover, much easier to climb. Kennedy, though a
fairly good climber, was not the equal of Leroux in this
respect, and after assisting the latter to reach the lowest
branches, he always waited for his return at the foot of the
tree. When the rooks were thus rudely disturbed at night, they
always made what seemed to the two boys a most appalling noise,
but if anyone ever heard it he never guessed the true cause, or
took any steps to investigate its meaning, and although during
three successive years the two boys raided the rookery on
several different occasions, their escapades were never
discovered or even suspected. Once, however, they only just got
back into their dormitory before the policeman made his nightly
round. As a rule he did not make his circuit of the house
flashing his lantern on all the windows until after midnight,
but on the occasion in question he came much earlier than usual,
and Leroux and Kennedy had only just scrambled up the
ivy-covered wall, and reached their room with the assistance of
the rope which the watchful Barnett had let down for them, when
they saw the policeman's lantern flash round the end of the
house, through their still open window, which they then closed
very cautiously without making any noise. It was the policeman's
nightly round of the house, which was thus so forcibly brought
to his notice, that gave Leroux an idea, which he and Kennedy
and Barnett, together with some other boys, subsequently acted
upon with great success. This was nothing more nor less than to
play a practical joke on the policeman by hanging a dummy figure
out of the window one night, on which he would be sure to flash
his lantern when he made his round of the house. In each
dormitory there was a huge clothes-basket, not very high but
very capacious, and choosing an evening when their basket was
very full of clothes for the wash, Leroux and his friends, with
the help of a bolster, a coat, shirt, and pair of trousers, and
some of the contents of the clothes-basket, made a very good
imitation of the figure of a boy. The top end of the bolster
which was pinched in a little lower down by the shirt collar,
made a nice round ball for the head, and on this a mask and a
tow wig, which had been bought just before Guy Fawkes day, were
fixed. Then the rope which had done such good service on the
occasions of the raids on the rookery, was fastened round the
dummy figure's neck, and the really meritorious imitation of a
dead boy lowered out of the window and allowed to dangle some
six feet beneath it. The head, which with its mask and wig of
tow now hung over to one side, gave the somewhat podgy and
certainly very inanimate looking figure quite a realistic
appearance. The work of preparing this figure after the French
master had been round the dormitories, occupied the boys some
time, and when at last, after the rope had been fastened round
its neck, it was lowered out of the window, it was past eleven
o'clock. The boys then took it in turns to watch for the coming
of the policeman, each watcher kneeling at the window well
wrapped in his bedclothes. It was Barnett who was on duty when
at last the policeman came. 'Cavy,' he whispered, 'here he
comes,' and all the boys, whose excitement had kept them awake,
made their way to the window, across which the light of the
lantern soon flashed. The result was immediate and exceeded the
utmost expectations of Leroux and his companions. The
policeman--a young man but lately enrolled in the force--was
seen to be gesticulating and shouting at the top of his voice,
evidently trying to attract the attention of those in the room
above him, from which the boy figure, with its ghastly pale
cardboard face, hung dangling at the end of a rope. There was,
however, no response from the listening boys. Suddenly the
policeman ceased his outcries, and running down the footpath
turned the corner of the house. Immediately after there was a
terrific banging at the front door, accompanied by loud
shouting. 'Quick,' said Leroux, 'up with the window, and let's
get the dummy in.' At the same time Kennedy ran to the further
door of the dormitory and holding it slightly ajar, peered out
on the landing, which overlooked the large hall at the end of
which was the main entrance of the house from whence all the
noise proceeded. And now anxious voices were heard, and lights
appeared from all directions. 'Old Rex'--the headmaster--'has
opened the hall door,' said Kennedy, 'and is talking to the
policeman. My eye,' he continued, 'Old Cockeye's there too,
she's crying out and snuffling like a good 'un.' I grieve to say
that 'Old Cockeye' was the disrespectful nickname which had been
given by the boys to the matron--a most exemplary lady with an
unfortunate squint in the left eye. And now there was a babble
of approaching voices as the party in the hall rapidly ascended
the staircase leading to the dormitories. Kennedy softly closed
the door at which he had been listening, and already Leroux and
Barnett had shut the window after having pulled up the rope with
the dummy figure attached to the end of it, which was hastily
thrust under the nearest bed. 'Mind we're all asleep; we don't
know anything about it,' said Kennedy in a loud whisper as he
jumped into his bed and composed his features into an appearance
of placid innocence, which indeed was the attitude adopted by
all the other boys in the room. Then the dormitory door was
thrown wide open and the headmaster rushed in, candle in hand,
closely followed by the policeman, the matron and two of the
undermasters. At the same time the door of the other end of the
room was flung open, and a strange half-clad figure, with wild
eyes and candle in hand, came forward amongst the sleeping boys
not one of whom, strange to say, showed the slightest sign of
having been in any way disturbed by all the hubbub. 'Mon Dieu,'
said Mons. Delmar, 'qu'est-ce qu'il y a donc?' as he ran to meet
the headmaster. The latter was indeed a pathetic figure as he
stood half-dressed looking round the room with wild eyes, his
long grey hair falling over his shoulders. In his right hand he
held a candlestick, whilst his left was clasped over his
forehead. 'Great God,' he said, 'no--no--impossible,' as if
talking to himself, and then suddenly turning to the policeman,
'Why, officer, you must be mistaken, every boy is here in his
bed.'
"'I seed him, sir; I seed him with my own eyes, indeed I did,'
answered the policeman.
"'Oh, deary, deary, deary me,' wailed the matron, whose
unfortunate obliquity of vision had gained her so irreverent a
nickname.
"'Which window was it, officer?' asked the headmaster.
"'The one near the end of the room,' replied the policeman. In
another moment the window in question was thrown wide open and
several heads were protruded into the cold night air.
"'There's nothing here,' said the headmaster.
"'Well, I'm ----' said the policeman, leaving it to his
audience to finish the sentence according to their several
inclinations. At this moment an exclamation from the French
master caused everyone to turn round. In his anxiety to get to
the window, one of the undermasters had pushed the end of
Leroux's bed sharply to one side--without however awakening its
occupant--and exposed to the Frenchman's sharp eyes a portion of
the rope which had been attached to the dummy figure which was
the cause of all the excitement. Stooping down to catch hold of
it, he at once saw the dummy under the bed, and pulled it out
with an exclamation which Leroux afterwards affirmed was
certainly 'sacre.'
"'Well, I'm ----' again said the policeman, without going any
further, and so again leaving his hearers in doubt as to what he
was. Old Rex, the headmaster, then seized Leroux by the
shoulder, and shook him violently, but for some time without any
other effect than to cause him to snore loudly; otherwise he
appeared not only to be fast asleep, but to have sunk into a
kind of comatose condition. At last, however, he could stand the
shaking no longer, and so opened his eyes.
"'Do you know anything about this, Leroux?' said old Rex
sternly.
"'Yes, sir,' said Leroux.
"'It was a cruel hoax,' said the headmaster.
"'I wanted to play a joke on the Bobby,' said Leroux.
"'Well, I'm ----' murmured that functionary, once more
discreetly veiling any further information which might otherwise
have been forthcoming by covering his mouth with his left hand.
"'Officer, these boys have played a shameful trick on you, but
you did your duty. I'm sorry that you should have been disturbed
in this way. Boys, I know you are all awake, I shall inquire
into this matter to-morrow.' So saying, but looking very much
relieved, the headmaster turned on his heel and left the room,
followed by all those who had entered it with him after having
been roused from their sleep by the policeman.
"Now 'old Rex,' the headmaster of the fine school at which our
hero acquired the rudiments of learning, was a reformer and an
idealist, and corporal chastisement was never inflicted on the
boys on any consideration whatever. The punishments for minor
offences were various tasks during play hours, or compulsory
walks conducted by old Rex himself, and which most of the boys
rather enjoyed. For more serious misdemeanours the offending
scholars were separated from their fellows, and placed in
solitary confinement in a distant part of the house for periods
ranging from a day to a week, during which they got nothing to
eat or drink but dry bread with a mere trace of butter on it,
and weak tea. As a sequel to the great dummy joke, the fame of
which by some means was spread through all the neighbouring
parishes, Leroux and Kennedy, who acknowledged that they were
the ringleaders in the matter, were condemned to three days'
solitary confinement, to be followed by various tasks and
compulsory walks during the play hours of the following week,
whilst the rest of the boys in the dormitory got off with some
extra lessons to be learnt whilst their school-fellows were
enjoying themselves in the playground during the next two
half-holidays, and a long lecture on the heinousness of the
crime, to which old Rex said with perfect truth he believed they
had been willing accessories.
"After the perpetration of the dummy joke, however, the French
master, whether on his own initiative or at the instigation of
the headmaster, commenced to make himself a great nuisance, not
only coming round the dormitories with a lighted candle as usual
soon after the boys had gone to bed, but often returning later
on without a candle and wearing carpet slippers. The single
combats and inter-dormitory bolster-fights which were a feature
of the school-life were constantly being interfered with. The
door of the dormitory in which our hero slept had always to be
kept ajar and a boy placed there to watch for the coming of
Mons. Delmar when any fun was going on, and the suddenness with
which at the single word 'cavy,' the confused noise of an
animated bolster-fight was succeeded by the most deathlike
stillness was truly astonishing. Before Mons. Delmar could
strike a light, every boy was not only in bed, but sleeping so
soundly that nothing the puzzled French master could say or do
could arouse them to consciousness. Various plans were discussed
by the most enterprising boys in the different dormitories, with
a view to discouraging these informal visits after the lights
had been put out. One night a piece of cord was tied by Leroux
across the gangway at about a foot from the ground between the
two beds nearest the door of the room in which he slept, over
which it was hoped Mons. Delmar would trip on entering. On this
occasion, however, he did not enter the room at all, but after
opening the door, lighted the candle he held in his hand and
merely looked round, turning on his heels again without speaking
a word. It was hoped that he had not noticed the string, and
another opportunity might be given him of falling over it. On
the next night, however, the boys in the adjoining dormitory set
a trap for him by placing the large inverted clothes-basket over
the half open door of the room, in such a way that it would,
with reasonable good luck, be very likely to fall like an
extinguisher over the head and shoulders of anyone entering the
dormitory, and when Mons. Delmar presently pushed the door open,
down came the large wicker basket. As it was dark it was
impossible to determine exactly whether it came down over his
head and shoulders or only fell on his head, but his candlestick
was certainly knocked out of his hand and he swore most volubly
in his own language. After having found and lighted his candle
he first harangued his young tormentors, all of whom were
apparently overcome by a deathlike sleep, and then went straight
off to the headmaster's study. The result of his complaint was
the infliction of certain tasks and compulsory walks on all the
occupants of the offending dormitory, but after this there was
no further spying on the boys. Poor Mons. Delmar! no doubt he
had only been acting under instructions, though perhaps he
entered on his detective duties a little too zealously.
"Altogether John Leroux spent four very happy years at his first
school, and besides making good progress with his lessons,
showed great aptitude for all games and athletic exercises,
especially football and swimming. Ever since the fight on the
evening of the day of his first entrance to the school he and
Kennedy had been the closest of friends. The two boys had paid
several visits to one another's homes during the holidays, and
it was chiefly because Kennedy's parents had decided to send
their son to a great public school in the Midlands, for the
entrance examination for which he had been undergoing a special
preparation, that it was finally decided that Leroux should be
sent to the same seat of learning. Up till then, however,
Leroux, though well advanced for his age in all other subjects,
had been spared the study of Greek, at the particular request of
his father, who as a practical business man, looked upon the
time spent by a schoolboy in acquiring a very imperfect
knowledge of any dead language, save Latin, as entirely wasted.
But to pass the entrance examination for any of our great public
schools fifty years ago some knowledge of Greek was absolutely
necessary, and so when Kennedy at the age of fourteen, passed
into the great school, his friend Leroux who hoped to rejoin him
there as soon as he had reached the same age, was in the
meantime sent to the establishment of a clergyman living in a
remote village in Northamptonshire to be specially coached in
Greek.
"The Rev. Charles Darnell, Rector of the parish of Belton, was a
short stout elderly man of a very easy-going disposition, who
exercised but little supervision over the dozen pupils he was
able to find accommodation for in his rambling old Rectory. But
he employed a couple of good tutors well up to their work, and
his son, who was a curate in a neighbouring parish and just as
irascible as his father was placid in temperament, also helped
to coach the boys in his charge.
"At the time of our story Belton was a small village of
stonebuilt cottages, all the windows in which were of the old
diamond-paned pattern. The village was dominated by an ancient
and picturesque church, surrounded by yew-trees, amongst which
were scattered the moss-grown tombstones of many generations of
Beltonians. A feature of the churchyard was the family vault of
a large landowner in the neighbourhood. The present
representative of this ancient family, locally known as 'old
squire,' was an eccentric bachelor, who lived in a picturesque
old Manor House with only two or three servants. It was said in
the village that he had never been seen outside the boundaries
of his estate for many years, and that he seldom walked abroad
even in his own grounds till after dark.
"It was during his first term, in very early spring, that
Leroux, accompanied by a fellow-pupil, took a wood-owl's eggs
from a hollow ash-tree in the deserted park, and he subsequently
spent many of his half-holidays birds'-nesting all over the
neglected estate. He never met a keeper, nor, indeed, anyone
else to question his right to be there, not even in the empty
stables or in the thick shrubberies and weed-grown plots of
ground near the great house which had once been gardens. There
were two small lakes in the park, and in one of them during the
autumn and winter months Leroux and one or two of his more
adventurous fellow-students used to set 'trimmers,' on which
they caught a good many pike, some of quite a good size, and now
and again they shot a moorhen with a saloon pistol which
belonged to a boy named Short.
"Whatever the boys caught or shot was taken to a certain cottage
in the village, the residence of an old woman who was a very
clever cook, and at this cottage Leroux and his friends enjoyed
many a good meal of baked pike stuffed with the orthodox
'pudding,' and even found the moorhens, which the old woman
skinned before cooking, very palatable.
"Belton being in the centre of a noted hunting-country, the
hounds sometimes passed in full cry within sight of the Rectory,
and whenever this happened the Rector's pupils were allowed by
an old-established custom, even if they were in the middle of a
lesson, to throw down their books and join in the run.
"During the year he spent at the Rectory Leroux worked hard at
his lessons, and made good progress in Greek as well as in all
other subjects which he had to get up, in view of the
approaching entrance examination to the great Midland school.
Games were neglected at this period, as there were not enough
pupils at the Rectory to make up two sides either at football or
cricket, but for Leroux and his fellow-pupils of similar tastes,
the old squire's deserted estate formed a most glorious
playground in which they found a fine field for the exercise and
development of the primitive instincts which had come down to
them from their distant ancestors of palaeolithic times. The
only pranks that Leroux indulged in during his year at Belton
were all connected with the old church of which Mr. Darnell was
the incumbent, and at which his pupils were obliged to attend
the two services held every Sunday. As in many of the old
churches in the remote districts of Northamptonshire at that
time, there was no organ, but the hymns were sung to an
accompaniment of flute, violin and 'cello, the performers on
these instruments being seated in a kind of minstrels' gallery
at the end of the church facing the pulpit.
"After the service on Sunday evening the musical instruments
were taken by the musicians to their own homes, but one Sunday
afternoon Leroux and Short--the owner of the saloon
pistol--surreptitiously entered the church and thoroughly soaped
the bows of the violin- and violoncello-players, and introduced
several peas into the flute. That evening the music was very
defective, but although the musicians knew that their
instruments had been tampered with there is no reason to believe
that they ever suspected that any of the Rector's 'young
gentlemen' had had anything to do with the trick which had been
played upon them. In future, however, the bows and the flute
were removed between the services, as Leroux discovered about a
month later, when he thought it was time to repeat his first
successful experiment. An aged parishioner, who was always
dressed in a smock-frock and grey woollen stockings, had his
seat on a bench just in front of the pews where Mr. Darnell's
pupils sat. This old man invariably removed his shoes on sitting
down, and placed them carefully under his seat, and on several
occasions during the sermon, Leroux managed to remove them with
the help of a stick to the end of which a piece of wire in the
shape of a hook had been attached. Once the shoes had been
drawn to Leroux's seat they were passed down by the other boys
from pew to pew, and finally left at a considerable distance
from their original place of deposition. The old fellow always
made a great fuss about the removal of his shoes, which not only
amused the Rector's pupils and all the younger members of the
congregation, but must also have had an exhilarating influence
on the spirits of their elders, upon whom the effect of the
usual dull sermon always appeared to be very sedative to say the
least of it. However, no public complaint was ever made, and
when the old man at length took the precaution to keep his shoes
on his feet during service, all temptation to meddle with them
was removed."
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The body was sent home in a cask of brandy which was said to have
been partially drunk by the sailors. This gruesome theft was known as
"tapping the admiral."
[2] The occasion of this speech was when the society of St. Hubert
presented Selous with the medal of the "Academie des Sports," "pour
services rendus a la Chasse aux grandes fauves" on July 15th, 1911.
CHAPTER II
1865-1870
When the time came for Fred to go to Rugby both Mr. Darnell and Mr. Hill
advised Mr. Wilson, to whose house it was proposed to send him, not on
any account to have a boy whose escapades would be a constant source of
trouble, but fortunately Mr. Wilson liked 'naughty' boys and disregarded
their warnings.
Selous entered Rugby in January, 1866, and was a pupil in Mr. Wilson's
house for two years. His letters to his mother at this period are of the
usual schoolboy type, mostly requests for money, books or additions to
the commissariat. He was always reading when he got the chance, the
choice invariably tending towards travel and adventure. He writes:--
"_January, 1866._
"I am reading a new book by Mr. Livingstone. It is called 'The
Zambesi and its Tributaries,' from 1858-1864. It is very
interesting and is about the discovery of two large lakes. Send
me two catapults." And "I am sorry to hear the rat skins are
eaten, but very glad that the stoat's has not met with the same
fate." Another letter shows his consideration for his parents in
the matter of money and is somewhat characteristic.
"MY DEAR MAMA,
"I hope you are quite well, I am now at Rugby and very
comfortable. I have a study with another boy, and we have an
allowance of candles and tea and sugar, etc., given out every
week, and we make our own tea and breakfast in our studies and
it is very nice indeed. I have passed into Upper Middle two
when Lower Middle two would have done. I have to pay over some
subscriptions.
"L1 subscription to the racket court.
"10s. to football club, 10s. to cricket club, 10s. for our own
house subscription, all of which I am forced to pay. I have to
buy a great many things which I could not help and I have spent
a lot of my money on them. I will write them down to show you
that not one of them was extravagance but quite the opposite.
"7s. 6d. to have my watch mended, 1s. to go to Harbro' to get my
watch and come back. 1s. to have my dirty clothes washed. 2s.
for a book I have to use at Rugby which I had not got. 3s. to
come from Welton to Rugby after coming back to get my boxes. All
these were necessary, weren't they?
"It is not my fault that there are such a lot of expenses at a
public school, but it is only the first half. Please send in a
registered letter, I have seen a great many boys receive them. I
have passed very high, 10th out of 75, and that will partly make
up to you for some of the subscriptions. Give my best love to
Papa and brothers and sisters.
"I remain your affectionate son,
"Freddy."
From this time his life at Rugby is thus given in his own words:--
"In January, 1866, when John Leroux was just fourteen years of
age, he easily passed the entrance examination to the great
school in the Midlands and became a member of the house which
his old friend Jim Kennedy had entered just a year earlier. Here
he spent two and a half very happy years, and as at the end of
that time he was only sixteen, he would in the ordinary course
have continued his studies for at least another two years before
leaving school, had it not been his father's wish that he should
go abroad to learn French and German before reaching an age at
which it would be necessary to settle down to the real business
of life and make his own living. At the great school there were
three half-holidays weekly, but the boys were expected to do a
good deal of preparation for the next day's lessons during their
leisure time. Some boys shirked these out-of-class studies, but
Leroux always did whatever was expected of him most
conscientiously and often very slowly and with much labour, as
he never used a crib to assist him with his Latin and Greek
translations. He was not at all brilliant, but was well up in
the school for his age, and had he stayed another term would
have been in the sixth--the highest form in the school. However
famous the great Midland school may have been fifty years ago,
as a seat of learning, it was certainly not less famous for the
great game of football, the playing of which was as compulsory
on the scholars as the study of Greek. Primitive Rugby football
was a very different affair to the highly scientific game of the
present day. There was more running with the ball, far less
kicking into touch, and no heeling out behind the scrimmage.
Hacking was not only permissible but was one of the main
features of the game, and when the ball was put down in the
scrimmage the object of each side was to 'hack it through,' that
is, to clear a path for the ball by kicking the shins of every
one in the way as hard as possible. There were twenty boys on
each side in the old Rugby game of whom the backs and half-backs
only numbered five altogether--such a thing as a three-quarter
back was undreamt of--so that there were fifteen forwards on
each side. When anyone ran with the ball, the cry was 'hack him
over,' and as often as not the runner was brought down with a
neat kick on the shin. It was altogether a rough, possibly a
rather brutal game; but it made the boys strong and hardy, and
with the exception of badly bruised shins there were very few
accidents. A young boy, on his first entrance to the big school,
could only wear duck trousers at football, but if he played up,
and did not flinch from the hacking, the Captain of his twenty
gave him his 'flannels' and then exchanged his duck for flannel
trousers. There was no school twenty, and therefore no school
cap, and all the most hotly contested matches were between the
different houses for the honour of being 'cock house.' Every
house had its own cap, but in each house, except in the case of
the school house, where there was a large number of pupils,
there were only a few caps in each football twenty. For
instance, in Leroux's house, where there were fifty-two pupils,
there were only four who had got their caps. Though one of the
youngest boys in the house Leroux threw himself into the game
with a zest and enthusiasm which at once compelled attention,
and won him his 'flannels' in his first term, and after playing
up well in the first great match in the autumn term of the same
year he was given his cap. He thus got his cap whilst still in
his fourteenth year, and was the youngest boy in the whole
school who possessed that much-coveted prize. The only other
sport besides football indulged in by the boys at the great
school during the term between Christmas and Easter was that
known as 'house washing.' Led by one of the oldest and strongest
boys, the whole house were accustomed to spend one half-holiday
every week, during the cold, damp, dreary months of February and
March, in jumping backwards and forwards over a small brook or
river, which at that time of the year was usually swollen by
recent rain. The first jumps were taken across the narrowest
parts of the stream, and here only the youngest and weakest boys
got into the water. But it was a point of honour to go on taking
bigger and bigger jumps, until every boy in the house had failed
to reach the opposite bank and all had got thoroughly soused.
The last jump was known as 'Butler's Leap.' Here the stream ran
through a tunnel beneath one of the high roads traversing the
district, but before doing so it ran for a short distance
parallel with the road, which had been built up to the height of
the bridge above it. From the brick wall on either side of the
bridge low wooden barriers, perhaps two and a half feet high,
had been placed on the slope of the road on either side to the
level of the fields below, and it was thus possible to get a run
across the whole width of the road and leap the low barrier in
an attempt to reach the opposite bank of the stream, which was
here over twenty feet wide, and some twenty feet below the level
of the top of the bridge. A hero named Butler had either been
the first boy to attempt this desperate leap, or he had
actually cleared the stream and landed on the opposite bank.
Tradition concerning the details of the exploit varied, but
whether Butler had made the great jump or only attempted it, he
had immortalised his name by his daring. Now, only the biggest
and most venturesome boys in each house were expected to attempt
Butler's Leap, but nevertheless some of the younger ones always
had a try at it, and amongst these were Kennedy and Leroux. They
cleared the wooden barrier at the side of the road, and fell
through the air into the stream below, but far short of the
further bank, which they had to reach by swimming.
"From a perusal of the letters which Leroux faithfully wrote
every week to his mother, it would seem that with the exception
of the fierce football contests for 'cock' house, and occasional
snowball encounters with the town 'louts'--the contemptuous
appellation given by the boys at the school to all their
fellow-citizens--all his most interesting experiences were
connected with his passion for birds'-nesting, and the pursuit
of sport, at first with a saloon pistol and subsequently with a
pea-rifle, on the domains of neighbouring landowners. The master
of Leroux's house was a man of very fine character and most
kindly disposition, and was much beloved by all his pupils. He
was always a most kind friend to Leroux, and being a teacher of
natural science--it was certain experiments in chemistry which
had earned for him amongst the boys the sobriquet of 'Jim
Stinks'--was much drawn to him by his very pronounced taste for
the study of natural history, and his practical knowledge of
English birds and beasts. In his second year at the school,
Leroux got into the first mathematical set in the upper school,
and on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and on every third
week on Mondays as well, had no lessons in school, after 10.15
in the morning. But on these half-holidays, or almost whole
holidays, all the boys in the school had to attend and answer to
their names at a 'call over' which was held at the big school
during the afternoon, and from which no boy could escape except
with the written permission of his house-master. During the
summer Leroux's kindly house-master often allowed his favourite
pupil to be absent from 'call over,' and he was thus able, by
taking the train, to visit districts and pursue his
ornithological rambles at quite a long distance from the school.
On these distant excursions, however, although he paid no
attention whatever to the numerous notice-boards intimating that
trespassers would be prosecuted, he was never caught by a
gamekeeper, though he had some good runs to escape their
attentions. In the more immediate vicinity of the school,
possibly the keepers were more on the look-out for
birds'-nesting boys, who were often brought up by their captors
before the headmaster, the great Dr. Temple, familiarly known in
the school as 'Old Froddy.' This great and good man, however,
always let the young trespassers off very lightly.
"One Sunday afternoon Leroux was pursued by a gamekeeper to the
very doors of the chapel, and indeed it was only under the
stimulus of this pursuit that he could possibly have got in in
time for the service, and 'cutting chapel' meant having to write
out the whole of the fourth Georgic of Virgil, which was just
over 500 lines. When the bell ceased tolling, Leroux was still
some distance from the chapel door, and handicapped besides with
the top-hat, which all the boys always had to wear on Sunday,
and a clutch of sparrowhawk's eggs twisted up in his
handkerchief, on which he had to hold his hand in his
coat-pocket, to prevent them from shaking together. But old
Patey, who always checked off the boys at 'call over' and on
their entrance to the chapel, took in the situation at a glance
and held the door ajar till Leroux got inside, and then slammed
it to in the gamekeeper's face. Leroux fully expected that his
pursuer would wait outside till chapel was over and try and
identify him as he came out, but he probably got tired of
waiting or else thought it impossible to pick out the boy he had
chased and of whom he had only had a back view, amongst over
five hundred other boys.
"About three miles from the big school in the midst of a wide
expanse of undulating meadow-land, interspersed with small
woods, stood the fine old manor house of Pilton Range. As there
was no game preservation on this estate, there were no keepers
to shoot down magpies, carrion crows, kestrels and sparrowhawks,
and Leroux consequently found it a very fine hunting ground for
the nests of these birds. One day soon after the Easter
holidays, and during his second year at the big school, Leroux
paid a visit to the Pilton Range grounds, to look at a magpie's
nest which he had found building a fortnight before. He was
walking along a high hedge bordering a field, about a mile away
from the house, when a man dressed as a labourer climbed over a
gate at the other end of the field and came walking towards him.
Now Leroux had often met labouring men on the Pilton Range
estate before, but had never been interfered with in any way by
them, so he paid no attention to the man who was now coming
towards him, but walked quietly to meet him. The heavily built
labourer came slouching along, apparently without taking the
slightest interest in the approaching boy, but just as he was
passing him, and without having previously spoken a word, he
shot out his right hand, and caught Leroux by the waistcoat just
beneath the collar. 'Well, what do you want?' said Leroux.
"'You come along o' me to Mr. Blackstone'--the bailiff of the
Pilton Range estate--said the labourer. Now Leroux had set his
heart on visiting the magpie's nest, which he thought would be
sure to contain eggs by now, and he was very averse to having
his plans deranged by a visit to Mr. Blackstone. He first
therefore offered to give his name to his captor to be reported
to the headmaster, and when this proposition was received with a
derisive laugh he pulled a letter from his coat pocket, and
offered the envelope as a proof of his veracity. Possibly the
heavy-looking lout who had taken him prisoner could not read. At
any rate he never even glanced at the envelope which Leroux held
out for his inspection, but merely repeating his invitation to
'come along o' me to Mr. Blackstone,' proceeded to walk towards
the gate in the corner of the field at which he had made his
first appearance. Leroux felt that he was very firmly held, for
the labourer's fingers had passed through the armhole of his
waistcoat, so he at first pretended to be resigned to his fate,
and walked quietly along beside his obdurate captor. Just before
reaching the gate, however, he gave a sudden wrench, and almost
got free, but on his waistcoat beginning to tear, desisted. In
the struggle, however, boy and man had swung face to face, as
the labourer held Leroux with his right hand clenched on the
left side of the boy's waistcoat near the collar. After this
Leroux refused to walk beside his captor any further, but forced
him to walk backwards and pull him every step of the way, and as
he was then fifteen years old and a strong heavy boy for his
age, their progress was slow. Fortunately for the labourer he
was able to open the gate in the corner of the field in which he
had made his capture, as well as two others which had to be
passed before reaching the Hall, with his left hand, for he
would never have been able to have got Leroux over these gates.
Leroux would have attacked the man with his fists and hacked him
on the shins, but he knew that that would have put him in the
wrong with the headmaster, so he just leaned back, and made his
captor walk backwards and pull him along every step of the way
up to the Hall. He also made a point of bringing his heels down
heavily on the labourer's feet at every step. At last, however,
Leroux was dragged through the open gates of the great archway
leading into the courtyard of Pilton Range, where at that moment
Mr. Blackstone the bailiff happened to be standing just outside
his office door. He was a tall, grim-looking old man with
iron-grey hair, and seemed to be leaning heavily on a thick
stick he held in his right hand as if he was slightly lame.
"'I've brought un to see Mr. Blackstone,' said the perspiring
labourer, still holding Leroux in his grasp.
"'You young rascal, I'd like to lay this stick about your back,'
said Mr. Blackstone, brandishing that formidable weapon in front
of the captive. Then putting his left hand in his waistcoat
pocket, he extracted a coin with his finger and thumb which
Leroux thought was a two-shilling piece and offered it to his
employee, remarking, 'Here's something for you, John; I see
you've had some trouble with this young rascal.'
"Then addressing Leroux he said, 'Now, boy, I want your name.'
The labourer received the proffered piece of silver in his left
hand, but force of habit caused him, no doubt quite
unconsciously, to release his hold of Leroux with his right hand
at the same time in order to touch his cap to Mr. Blackstone in
acknowledgment of his employer's generosity. On the instant that
Leroux felt himself free he was round and through the great
archway almost at a bound.
"'After him, John,' he heard the irate bailiff shout, and the
discomfited labourer at once gave chase, but he stood no chance
whatever of overtaking the active, well-trained boy, and when
Leroux half broke, half jumped through the hedge at the bottom
of the field below the Hall, he was pursued no further. After
scrambling through the hedge and running in its shelter to the
corner of the field he was then in, Leroux stood on the watch
for some little time, and then feeling very elated at the way in
which he had given the bailiff the slip, without letting him
know his name, determined not to leave the Pilton Range ground
without looking at the magpie's nest, he had been on his way to
examine when first seized by the labourer. As he had expected he
found that the nest contained a full complement of eggs, which
were that evening carefully blown and added to his collection,
which was even then quite the best made by any boy in the whole
school. On his many subsequent visits to the Pilton Range
estate, Leroux took good care never to allow any labouring man
he happened to see to get anywhere near him, nor did he ever
renew his acquaintance with Mr. Blackstone.
"Of all his birds'-nesting exploits, the one which Leroux
himself always considered the greatest achievement was his raid
on the Heronry at Tombe Abbey. Tombe Abbey was about fifteen
miles distant from the big school, and it was during his second
year of study there, that whilst rambling in that neighbourhood
on a day when he had been excused from attending all 'callings
over' by his house-master, Leroux had noticed a number of herons
flying over the park in the midst of which the Abbey stood. He
at once entered the sacred precincts to investigate, and soon
discovered the Heronry situated on an island in the middle of a
large sheet of ornamental water. The twenty or thirty large
nests of sticks were built as is always the case in England,
high up in a grove of large trees growing on the island. Leroux
watched the herons from amongst some bushes on the edge of the
lake for some time and assured himself that there were young
birds in most if not in all of the nests, as he could see their
parents feeding them. To have swum across the lake to the island
and then climb up to one or more of the nests in the hope of
finding some eggs would therefore probably have been a bootless
quest, and at that time perhaps Leroux would hardly have been
able to have summoned up sufficient courage for such an
undertaking, but all through the following months the idea of
one day swimming to the island in the park at Tombe Abbey and
taking some herons' eggs, grew in his mind, and when he returned
to school after the following Christmas holidays, he had fully
determined to make the attempt. Through reference to an
ornithological work in his house-library Leroux had learned that
herons are very early breeders, so he made his plans
accordingly, and obtained leave from his house-master to be
absent from all 'callings over' on March 7th, and hurrying to
the station as soon as his mathematical lesson was over at a
quarter past ten in the morning, he took the first train to the
nearest station to Tombe Abbey. It was a bitterly cold day with
a dull sky and the wind in the east, and when, after making his
way cautiously across the park, Leroux reached the shelter of
the bushes on the edge of the lake, he found that there was a
fringe of thin ice all round the water's edge. In one way,
however, the cold dreary day was favourable to the boy's
enterprise, as no one was likely to be out walking in the park.
Under cover of the bushes Leroux stripped himself to the skin,
and without any hesitation waded into the ice-cold water, until
it became deep enough to allow him to swim. At this time he was
probably the best swimmer in the whole school, for during his
first year and when only fourteen years of age he had won the
second prize in the annual swimming-match, and would certainly
have taken the first prize the following year, but for some
reason or other there was no competition. In his third year and
a few months after his visit to Tombe Abbey when the competition
was again revived, he met with an accident at cricket on the
very morning of the race, which destroyed his chances of winning
it. Once in the deep water of the lake, Leroux, swimming with a
strong sidestroke, soon reached the island in the centre, and
selecting the easiest tree to climb in which some of the herons'
nests were built, naked as he was, he lost no time in getting up
to them. There were four eggs in each of the two nests he
actually inspected, and transferring these to an empty
sponge-bag which he had brought with him, and which he now held
in his mouth, he soon reached the ground again at the foot of
the tree without having broken or even cracked a single egg. A
hasty look round assured him that no one was in sight anywhere
in the park, so still holding the sponge-bag containing the
eight large blue eggs in his teeth, he soon recrossed the lake
to the mainland, and then lost no time in pulling his clothes
over his wet and shivering limbs. But though his teeth were
chattering, Leroux's young heart was full of joy and exultation
at the successful accomplishment of his enterprise, and he
thought but little of his personal discomfort. Once dressed he
soon reached the boundary of the park, and early in the
afternoon was able to report himself to his house-master, though
he did not think it necessary to enter into any details as to
his day's ramble, and probably had it not been for the fact that
the great Midland school at this time boasted a natural history
society, of which Leroux was a prominent member as well as
keeper of the ornithological note-book, the incident of the
taking of the herons' eggs at Tombe Abbey might never have been
known to anyone but a few of Leroux's most intimate friends.
However, at the next evening meeting of the society, in the
innocence of his heart Leroux exhibited the great blue eggs, the
contemplation of which was still his chief joy. One of the
undermasters, Mr. Kitchener, was that night in the chair, and
this unprincipled pedagogue, after having obtained the admission
from Leroux that he had taken the herons' eggs himself,
required him in the most unsportsmanlike manner to state exactly
when and where he had become possessed of them. All
prevarication was foreign to Leroux's nature, and when thus
challenged he did not hesitate to tell the story of his visit to
Tombe Abbey, and how he had swum across the lake and climbed to
the herons' nests stark naked on a cold day in early March. The
hardihood of the exploit, however, made no appeal to the mean
soul of Mr. Kitchener, who not only confiscated the herons' eggs
on the spot, but ordered Leroux to write out the fourth Georgic
of Virgil, a very common punishment at public schools in those
days, as it runs to almost exactly 500 lines. Through the good
offices of his own house-master the herons' eggs were given back
to Leroux, but the story of his adventure became noised abroad,
even beyond the confines of the school, as he was to discover a
few months later.
"Although Leroux had become the happy possessor of a saloon
pistol, soon after his entrance to the school, he had never
found this a very satisfactory weapon, and had determined to
possess himself of something better as soon as possible. He
practised rifle-shooting regularly at the butts, and in his
third year shot in most of the matches for the school eleven,
always doing very well at the longer ranges at which the boys
were allowed to kneel or lie down, but failing rather at the 200
yards, at which range in those days even the youngest members of
the rifle-corps were required to shoot standing with heavy
Enfield rifles with a very hard pull. It was this excessively
hard pull, combined with the weight of the long Enfield rifle,
which made it so difficult for a young boy to shoot steadily
standing at the 200 yards' range. During the Easter holidays
before his last term at the great school, Leroux bought with his
savings, augmented by a liberal present from his mother, a good
pea-rifle with a detachable barrel, which could be concealed up
the coat-sleeve of the right arm, whilst the stock was hidden
under the coat on the other side of the body. But Leroux never
used this rifle on private ground unless he was accompanied by a
friend, so that in case of pursuit one boy could run with the
barrel and the other with the stock. There was an old disused
canal not far away from the school, on the property of a local
landowner named Lowden Beigh, which was a favourite resort of
Leroux and his friends on Sunday afternoons between dinner-time
and afternoon chapel. In the still waters of this old canal
bordered with beds of reeds and rushes, and in many places
overspread with waterlilies, pike were always to be found on a
hot summer's day, not exactly basking in the sun, but lying
motionless in the water, not more than a few inches from the
surface, and Leroux had discovered that the concussion caused by
a bullet fired into the water in the immediate vicinity of these
fish, even though it did not touch them, was sufficient to stun
them and cause them to float helpless for a short time belly
upwards on the top of the water, from which they could be
retrieved with a long stick. The pike which were obtained in
this way were, however, be it said, always of small size. This
old canal too swarmed with moorhens which afforded excellent
practice with the little rifle. It was on a hot Sunday afternoon
in late June, that Leroux and a great friend of his, a very tall
boy who had somewhat outgrown his strength, paid what proved to
be their last visit to the canal. As it so happened, where they
first struck the canal they had only seen some very small pike
not worth shooting at and only one shot had been fired at a
moorhen, which had missed its mark. However, there was a better
hunting ground beyond the bridge where the high road crossed the
old canal, and this they proceeded to make for. Before entering
the last field which lay between them and the high road, the
little rifle was taken to pieces, and Leroux then hid the stock
under the left side of his coat, his companion, whose arms were
longer than his, concealing the barrel up his right coat-sleeve.
The two boys then strolled leisurely along the bank of the
canal, towards the gate which opened into the high road just
below the bridge. They were close to this gate, in fact almost
touching it, when a gamekeeper, in velveteen coat and gaiters,
suddenly appeared from behind the hedge on the other side of it
and stood confronting them.
"'Well, young gents,' he said, 'what have you been doing along
the canal?'
"'We've been looking for cuckoos' eggs in the reed warblers'
nests,' said Leroux readily, and it was indeed a perfectly true
answer, though it did not cover the whole scope of their
operations.
"'Well, I must have your names. Mr. Lowden Beigh[3] means to put
a stop to you young gents trespassing on his ground every
Sunday,' said the gamekeeper, pulling out a pocket-book and
pencil to take them down in. Leroux and his friend at once gave
their names, and told the keeper how to spell them, for they
knew that even if they were reported to the headmaster, that
good old sportsman would not be likely to inflict any punishment
on them for merely strolling quietly along the bank of the old
canal on a Sunday afternoon, even though they had been
trespassing on the property of Mr. Lowden Beigh.
"Having given up their names to the keeper the two boys
proceeded to climb over the gate into the high road, and
considering what they carried hidden under their coats, this was
a somewhat ticklish operation.
"Leroux was nearest to the keeper, and having his right arm free
probably got over the gate without arousing any suspicion in the
man's mind, but the latter probably noticed the unusual
stiffness of the tall boy's right arm when he was getting over
the gate, though he did not immediately grasp the cause of it.
However, the probable meaning of it must soon have flashed
across his mind, for the boys had not walked twenty yards down
the road when they heard him say, 'Darned if ye ain't got one o'
they little guns with ye.' They heard no more. 'Come on,' said
Leroux, and the two boys dashed off down the road at their best
pace, closely pursued by the keeper, who though middle-aged was
a spare-made, active-looking fellow. It was a very hot day and
the two boys were in their Sunday clothes and wearing top-hats,
and handicapped with the rifle, the barrel of which was rather
heavy. Still at first they gained on the keeper, and at the end
of a quarter of a mile had increased the distance between him
and them to quite fifty yards, when suddenly they came almost
face to face with old 'Froddy,' the great headmaster himself,
who had just emerged from a lane into the high road. With his
head held high in the air and his hat on the back of his head,
he came striding along all alone, at a pace of at least four
miles an hour. His thoughts were evidently far from the earth he
trod, and probably he never saw the boys at all, but they
instantly recognized him.
"'Old Froddy, by Jove!' ejaculated Leroux; 'come on through the
hedge,' and without an instant's hesitation he dashed at and
broke his way into the field to the right of the road, his
friend scrambling through the gap he had made in the hedge close
behind him. The boys were now in a large grass field across
which they started to run diagonally, the keeper following
doggedly behind them, though when they gained the further corner
of the field he was nearly a hundred yards behind them. As they
climbed the gate into the next field Leroux's tall young friend
was panting painfully, and before they were half-way across it
he said he would not be able to run much further with the
rifle-barrel. There was a large hayrick in the far corner of
this field, so Leroux urged his companion to try and carry the
rifle-barrel as far as there and then throw it down behind the
rick, just as they passed it, and were for the moment hidden
from the keeper. Leroux who was comparatively fresh and whom the
keeper would never have caught, still stuck to the stock of his
rifle, and intended to return for the barrel the next day, which
happened to be one of the three-weekly Monday half-holidays. He
did not think there would be much chance of its discovery before
then. However, as bad luck would have it, and by an
extraordinary chance, the gamekeeper saw it as he passed the
rick. He had probably turned to look behind him, thinking that
possibly the boys had run round the rick, and must have seen the
glint of the sun on the barrel. The boys had not got very far
over the next field before they heard the gamekeeper shouting,
and on turning his head Leroux saw that he was standing near the
gate waving something over his head, which as it glinted and
flashed in the sun he knew was the barrel of his rifle. It was
no good running any further, the keeper had their names and half
the rifle, so they walked back to him and Leroux had to
surrender the other half.
"Now Leroux had great affection for this, his first rifle, and
hated the idea of having it confiscated, so he tried to make
terms with the keeper, and offered to give him all the money he
could afford, if he would return him the rifle, and be content
to report him and his friend for trespassing. The keeper refused
this bribe with much apparent indignation, saying that no amount
of money that might be offered to him would tempt him to swerve
from his duty, which was to take the rifle straight to his
master, Mr. Lowden Beigh. So the two boys walked slowly and
sadly back to the school, arriving there just in time for the
afternoon service in the chapel, which, however, did nothing to
cheer them.
"Every day during the following week Leroux expected to be
summoned to the headmaster's study and taxed with trespassing
with a rifle on Mr. Lowden Beigh's land. But at the end of this
time, as nothing happened, he felt convinced that the keeper had
never given up the little rifle to his master at all, but had
kept it himself, in the hope of being able to dispose of it for
more money than had been offered him for its return. At any rate
Leroux determined to write to Mr. Lowden Beigh, tell him exactly
what had happened, and ask him to let him have the rifle back
again at the end of the term. This he did, and the following day
received an answer requesting him to call at the Hall with the
friend who was with him when the rifle was taken, on the
following Sunday afternoon. The two boys complied with this
request and they were very kindly entertained and treated to
wine and cake by Mr. Lowden Beigh. He asked Leroux if it was he
who had taken the herons' eggs at Tombe Abbey, and when he
admitted that it was, said, 'Why, you're the biggest poacher in
the school.' He then told the boys that the keeper had never
said a word to him about the rifle, but that he had demanded it
from him immediately on reading Leroux's letter, and then
dismissed the man from his service. Finally, Mr. Lowden Beigh
told Leroux that if he would again come to the Hall, the day
before the big school broke up at the end of the term, he would
return him his rifle, and this promise he faithfully kept.
"It was whilst he was at home during the Christmas holidays
immediately preceding the commencement of his second year at the
great Midland school, that John Leroux, then just fifteen years
of age, was an eye-witness of, and indeed, a participant in, the
terrible disaster on the ice in Regent's Park, which took place
on January 15th, 1867.
"At that time he was living with his parents at no great
distance from the scene of the accident, of which he wrote an
account to a school friend whilst the events related were still
fresh in his memory.
"As a result of a long-continued frost, the ice on the
ornamental water in the park had become excessively thick, and
during the early part of January, 1867, thousands of people
might have been seen skating there daily. At length, however, a
thaw set in, and as the ice became gradually more rotten in
appearance, the skaters rapidly decreased in numbers.
"On the day of the accident Leroux went to the park alone after
lunch, and on his arrival at the ornamental water, found that
the ice had been broken all round the shore of the lake by the
men employed by the Royal Humane Society, with the object of
preventing people from getting on to the ice. At the same time
several servants of the Society were doing their best to
persuade the more adventurous spirits who had got on to the ice
by means of planks, to leave it. At that time there were
probably not more than three or four hundred people on the whole
expanse of the ornamental water. At least they appeared to be
very thinly scattered over it, compared with the crowds of a few
days before, when the ice was sound and strong, before the thaw
had set in.
"Having come to the park to skate, and being perhaps of a
somewhat self-willed and adventurous disposition, Leroux put on
his skates, and watching his opportunity, got on to the ice,
which though quite three inches in thickness, was seamed in
every direction with a multiplicity of cracks, through which the
water constantly welled up and ran over the surface. It was
indeed evident that the solid ice-slab with which the lake had
been originally covered was now formed of innumerable small
pieces, really independent one of another, but still fitting
closely together like the sections of a child's puzzle after
they have been put in their places. Leroux himself never doubted
that it was the breaking of the ice for the space of three or
four feet all round the shores of the lake, which allowed room
for the cracks in the unbroken ice gradually to widen until at
last the whole sheet broke into separate pieces. As the skaters
passed to and fro upon it, the whole surface of the ice-sheet
seemed to rise and sink in response to their passage, and every
moment the gaps gaped wider.
"It was getting on towards four o'clock in the afternoon, and
Leroux was just then right in the middle of the lake, midway
between the largest island and the bridge leading towards the
Park Road, when he heard a cry behind him, and looking round saw
that the ice was breaking in the direction of the bridge. It was
a sight which he never forgot. Right across the whole breadth of
the lake the sections into which the ice-sheet had been divided
by the cracks were disengaging themselves one from another. The
line of breaking advanced steadily towards where the boy was
standing, each separate section of ice as the pressure was
removed from behind, first breaking loose, and after being
tilted into the air, again falling flat into its place. As no
one fell into the water when the ice first broke up, the
pressure which was the immediate cause of the catastrophe must
have been exerted from a distance, and it was probably the
weight of the people on the ice some way off which caused it to
bulge where it first broke to such an extent as to detach some
of the smaller sections which were already really separated one
from another by the ever-widening cracks.
"There was a regular panic amongst the comparatively small
number of people between Leroux and the point near the bridge
where the ice first commenced to break up, and they all went
flying along as fast as their skates would carry them, straight
down the centre of the lake towards the narrow channel between
the two islands in front of them. At the same time there was a
stampede for the shore from every part of the lake, and as the
great bulk of the people then on the ice were near the edge when
it so suddenly commenced to break up, most of them either got to
land without assistance, or being caught in the breaking ice
when within a rope's throw of the shore, were subsequently
rescued; but every one who got into the water amongst the thick
heavy ice-slabs at any distance from the shore was drowned, and
most of these unfortunate people disappeared immediately beneath
the heavy slabs of ice, between which they fell into the water,
and which closed over them at once.
"When the ice first began to break up, Leroux could not help
standing still for a few moments, and watching the rapidly
advancing line of breakage, and then when he turned to run for
it or rather skate for it, he was quite alone, and at some
little distance behind the crowd of people who had first taken
the alarm. Suddenly there was a wild, despairing cry ahead, and
Leroux saw that the ice was breaking up in the narrow channel
between the two islands. At this juncture many people
undoubtedly lost their heads as they skated right into the
broken ice and almost all of them at once disappeared. It was
between the two islands that the greatest loss of life occurred,
as of the forty-nine bodies subsequently recovered in different
parts of the lake, twenty-four were found in close proximity to
one another at this spot, and yet there was scarcely a head to
be seen at the time of the accident above the broken ice, as the
weight of the heavy slabs forced those who fell in between them
under water almost immediately. Although he was only a boy of
fifteen at this time, he had never missed a chance of falling
through weak or rotten ice every winter since he first went to
school, and these various experiences had no doubt given him a
good deal of self-confidence. At any rate he felt neither
frightened nor flurried by the somewhat alarming circumstances
of the position in which he now found himself, but quickly made
up his mind as to the best course to adopt to save his life. As
the ice had already broken up both before and behind him, but
was still solid immediately behind him he stopped short where he
was, and lay down at full length on the longest piece of ice he
could see which was free from widely open cracks. He had
scarcely done so, when the wave of breakage which had commenced
near the bridge passed him, all the great cracks with which the
ice-sheet was seamed opening to such an extent that every
separate slab became detached. Many of these slabs were first
tilted a little into the air, as had happened when the ice first
broke up near the bridge, but they immediately fell flat again
into their places, so that the whole of the ice-sheet in the
central part of the ornamental water seemed to be in one piece,
though in reality the cracks which divided it into innumerable
small slabs were now so wide that each piece was independent the
one of the other, and most of them would not have been large
enough to support the weight of a man standing near their edge,
without heeling over and precipitating him into the water.
"Fortunately for Leroux the ice had not been broken round the
edge of the largest island in the lake to his left, and although
the cracks had opened all round where he lay, as the wave of
breakage passed, to such an extent as to have made it impossible
to have walked or skated across the disintegrated slabs, without
tilting one or other of them, and so falling into the water, yet
he was only a short distance from the unbroken ice-sheet which
rested on the island. The slab on which he was lying was quite
large enough to bear his weight easily, and as he was out of all
danger for the time being, he was able to look around and note
what was going on. Directly the ice broke up there was, of
course, tremendous excitement on the shore of the lake nearest
the Zoological Gardens, where great crowds of people had been
congregated the whole afternoon. Many gallant and successful
attempts were made to rescue those who were fighting for life
amongst the ice-slabs; but Leroux's impression was that no one
was saved who had got into the water at any considerable
distance from the shore. At the spot where the largest number of
people were drowned, almost everyone who fell into the water
disappeared immediately. Still here and there men kept their
heads above water for a long time, and all these poor fellows
might have been rescued, had it not been for the breaking of a
rope. It was soon realized that it would be quite impossible to
save the people who were so far out amongst the ice that a rope
could not be thrown to them from the shore except by some
special means, and someone hit upon the idea of dragging a boat
to them over the ice. Leroux saw the boat pulled up over the
still unbroken ice beyond the bridge, and long ropes were then
made fast to its bow and carried over the bridge to each side of
the lake, where willing hands enough were ready to work them.
Had the ropes only held, the boat might have been pulled from
one side or the other of the lake to all those who were in the
water amongst the ice-slabs at a distance from the shore; but
unfortunately before the boat had been pulled far beyond the
bridge one of the ropes broke, and as it was then apparently
recognized that they were not strong enough to stand the strain
required, the experiment was not tried again. There were only
two men in the water anywhere near Leroux, and they were about
half-way between where he lay and the shore of the lake. He had
seen them at first trying to force their way through the ice,
but the slabs were so thick and heavy that they threatened at
every moment to turn over on them, and they soon became
exhausted and remained quiet. At last one of them disappeared
and not long afterwards only a hat on the ice remained to mark
the spot where his companion in misfortune had also sunk. Leroux
soon realized that there was no hope of rescue from the shore,
and indeed amidst all the excitement of saving or attempting to
save the lives of those who had got into the water within reach
he had probably been overlooked or possibly his position had
been considered hopeless.
"At length when the light was commencing to fade Leroux made up
his mind to try and reach the island on his left by crawling
from one slab of ice to another. He fully realized that if he
once got into the water he would never get out, but not being
very heavy in those days, and by moving only very slowly and
cautiously, and carefully selecting his route he succeeded at
last in reaching the unbroken ice near the island. He had one
very narrow escape, as a table of ice very nearly turned over on
him before he had got sufficiently far on it to keep it flat.
Luckily there was a much larger slab just beyond it, on to which
he crawled without much difficulty. After crossing the island he
again got on to unbroken ice and skated across it, to the shore
near the lower bridge.
"By that time it was rapidly growing dusk, everybody whom it had
been possible to reach with a rope from the shore had been
rescued, and all the rest were still and cold beneath the ice.
But although Leroux knew that a considerable number of people
must have been drowned, until he saw the long list of those who
had lost their lives in the next morning's 'Times' he had no
idea that the disaster was so serious as it really was."
The following reminiscences of Selous as a schoolboy at Rugby were
contributed to the 'Meteor,' the Rugby school paper (February 7th,
1917), by Canon Wilson, D.D.:--
"I first heard of Selous some time in 1863, soon after I became
a house-master. The master of his preparatory school at
Tottenham told me that a Mr. Slous--for so the name was then
spelt--was going to enter his son at my house. 'Take my advice,'
was the gist of the letter, 'and say your house is full; the boy
will plague the life out of you.' I wrote to enquire the nature
of the plague. 'He breaks every rule; he lets himself down out
of a dormitory window to go birds'-nesting; he is constantly
complained of by neighbours for trespassing; he fastened up an
assistant master in a cowshed into which he had chased the young
villain early one summer morning; somehow the youngster
scrambled out, and fastened the door on the outside, so that the
master missed morning school.'
"Such were his crimes; so, of course, I wrote back and said that
he was the boy for me.
"His father brought him down from town, a bright-eyed,
fair-haired boy of twelve or thirteen, who had no suspicion that
I knew all about his iniquities. When his father departed, I had
a little of the usual talk with a new boy, about work and games
and so on; and then I asked him what he meant to be. 'I mean to
be like Livingstone,' he replied. I had seen Livingstone when he
came to Cambridge, in 1857, I think, and spoke in the Senate
House, appealing for a Universities Mission to Central Africa;
so we talked Livingstone and Africa, and Natural History. I soon
saw that he had the fire and the modesty of genius and was a
delightful creature.
"He was quite exemplary as a young member of the House and
School, so far as I knew. He was 'late' for chapel sometimes in
long summer afternoons; how much late I did not inquire. I
guessed what he was about and he did his lines like a man.
"He was extraordinarily acute in all his senses--sight, hearing,
smell, taste. He asked me, for example, one day to some brook a
few miles away to watch kingfishers. We crawled up warily when
we got near the spot. He could see exactly what they were
catching and carrying, from a distance at which I could only see
a bird flying. His power of hearing was also more than acute.
One day at our table in hall I told a lady who sat next me that
a nightingale had been heard singing in somebody's spinney. We
decided to drive down to it after dinner, and on reaching the
spot, we found Selous already there, roaming about in the
spinney. I called to him, and he came to the edge of the wood.
'What are you doing there?' 'Looking for a nightingale's nest,
sir.' 'But why here?' 'I heard you say at dinner that one was
singing here.' Now he was sixteen or eighteen feet away, at a
different table, and we were fifty in hall, talking and
clattering with knives and forks. And yet he heard me
distinctly. He could disentangle the voices, and listen to one,
as a dog can follow one scent among many. Then as to smell and
taste. He told me that when he shot a new bird with his
'tweaker'--you will learn presently what the 'tweaker' was in
his case--he always _tasted_ its flesh.
"He was extremely accurate in his observation, and in his
estimates of distance, size, number, etc.; in fact, he was the
most truthful observer I can imagine; free from all exaggeration
and egotism, and he retained this simplicity and accuracy and
modesty all his life. He was a beautiful runner, a
football-player with singular dash and a first-rate swimmer; but
he left Rugby at seventeen, I think, so that he did not win any
great athletic distinctions at school.
"But I must tell you some stories about him.
"On some great public occasion of rejoicing the streets of Rugby
were decorated with flags. When my man called me at 7.0 a.m., he
said, 'I think I ought to tell you, sir, that there is a
broomstick and duster showing in every chimney in the house.'
'Very well,' I replied, 'go and tell Mr. Selous that they must
be taken down by 12 o'clock.' He had let himself down at night
out of the dormitory window that looks into the study quadrangle
and had collected brooms and dusters from the studies. He had
somehow clambered up waterpipes and gutters and roofs,
broomsticks and all; and when I went out people in the road were
admiring our extemporized decorations--duster flags and
broom-handles sticking out of the chimney pots at all angles.
There was another flag, of the same nature, perilously near the
top of the taller of two poplars that stood close to the boys'
entrance. They were all taken down by dinner-time; I never
enquired how, or by whom.
"There used to be a vine, trained up the south face of the
house, and one year, I think in 1868, it bore an extraordinary
crop of grapes which ripened beautifully. One day at dinner I
told the head of the dormitory on the second floor, over the
drawing-room, that they might gather all that they could reach
from the window. _I forgot Selous_ as this was not his bedroom,
but the dormitory did not forget him. An aunt of mine was
sleeping in the bedroom below, and she remarked next morning at
breakfast that she heard, or thought she heard, voices at night
quite close to her windows. Had anything happened? I went out
into the garden to look, the vine was stripped more than
half-way down the windows of the first floor. It was Selous, of
course; they let him down somehow. I was told that he filled a
pillow-case with grape-bunches, and feasted the House. Mr. C. K.
Francis, the well-known Metropolitan Police Magistrate, his
contemporary in my house, has told this story of Selous to the
readers of the 'Daily Telegraph' (January 15th), and says that
they let Selous down in a blanket.
"Of course Selous was an active member of the School Natural
History Society. I must tell you about a meeting of that
Society. Dr. Walter Flight, who was in charge of the minerals of
the British Museum, was staying with me, and I asked him whether
he would like to come as a visitor to an ordinary meeting of our
Society. I knew it would be an interesting one. Selous had
shortly before raided the heronry on the island at Coombe Abbey.
He swam the pond from the end distant from the house, climbed
several trees, took one egg from each nest, swam back and was
chased, but escaped by sheer speed. Lord Craven complained to
the H.M. The H.M. warned our Society pretty plainly, and our
committee censured Selous. At the meeting we were going to
attend, Selous, as was widely known, was going to make his
defence. The room, the old Fifth Form Room, next to the School
House Dining Hall, was crowded. Flight and I squeezed in. 'Are
your meetings always like this?' he asked. 'You will see,' I
replied, 'that the school takes a great interest in natural
history.' 'I am very glad to see this,' he said.
"Exhibits were made, a paper read, and then began the real
business of the evening--the official condemnation by our
president, Mr. Kitchener, and Selous' spirited defence.
"Selous presented the eggs to the Natural History Society, and
they were safe in the collection twenty years ago, I am told. I
hope they are there still.
"He also climbed the great elm trees, which then stood in the
close, for rooks' eggs. This feat was also performed at night,
and the cawing of the rooks roused Dr. Temple, but Selous was
not detected in the darkness.
"Selous' special contribution to our Society was on birds. If I
remember right his first list of birds noted at Rugby exceeded
ninety. I will tell the story how one very rare bird was added
to our list. It was in the very hard winter of 1867; snow was
lying on the ground. In the evening, some hours after lock-up a
ring at the front door came at the moment I was going to my
study, the door of which is close to the front door. I opened
the front door and there stood Selous, with a bird dangling from
his hand. I don't know which of us was most surprised. 'Come in
to the study; what have you got there?' 'Oh, sir, it's
Williamson's duck; it's very rare.' (I invent the name
Williamson, I know it was somebody's duck.) 'Go and fetch the
bird-book from the House Library.' (I had put an excellent
bird-book in several volumes into the Library for his use.)
'Leave the bird.' I examined the bird, neatly shot through the
neck. He was quite right, a note in the book said that it had
been occasionally seen at certain places on the East coast; only
once, I think, inland as far as Northamptonshire. 'How did you
get it?' 'I saw it at Swift's and followed it to Lilbourne and
got it there.' 'How?' 'With my tweaker,' was the reply. 'It must
be a very powerful tweaker?' I said. 'Yes, sir, it's a very
strong one; I thought you would not mind my being late for once,
as it's very rare.'
"Some six years later, when he came back from a four years'
solitary travel and exploration in what is now called Rhodesia,
or even further inland, this incident of the tweaker turned up.
'I did wonder,' he said, 'whether you were such an innocent as
really to believe it was a tweaker.' 'My dear Selous,' I said,
'I knew the bird was shot, and I knew you had a gun, and the
farmhouse where you kept it, but you kept it so dark and made
such excellent use of it that I said nothing about it.'
"One of the most difficult problems presented to all who are in
authority is: how much ought I _not_ to know and see?"
"I think it was on this occasion that he came down to a
house-supper. He had told me lots of stories about his
adventures in Africa during those four years. They are told in
his books, every one of which is, I hope, in the School Library
and well read. I asked him to tell some of them to the house. No
he would not; so finally at the supper, I said that if he would
not, I would, and I began with the story of his going to ask
Lobengula, King of the Matabele, for leave to shoot elephants.
'You are only a boy,' the King said. 'You must shoot birds. The
first elephant you hunt will kill you.' Selous jumped up. 'Oh,
sir, let me tell it,' and we had a never-to-be-forgotten
evening.
"But it is time to stop. One of his friends, Sir Ralph Williams,
well said of him in a letter in 'The Times,' of January 10th,
'The name of Fred Selous stands for all that is straightest and
best in South African story,' and I will venture to say that it
stands for the same in Rugby annals.
"J. M. WILSON.
"Worcester, 22 _January_, 1917."
In August, 1868, at the age of seventeen, Selous left Rugby and went to
Neuchatel, in Switzerland, where he lived at the "Institution Roulet."
He spent his time learning French and the violin and commenced his
studies to be a doctor, for which profession he evinced no enthusiasm.
Writing to his mother in November, he says:--
"As for my future medical examinations I don't know how I shall
come off; I do not want particularly to be a doctor, but I shall
go in for that as I can't see anything else that I should like
better, except sheep-farming or something of that sort in one of
the colonies, but I suppose I must give up that idea; however,
if I become a surgeon I do not intend to try and get a practice
in England, but I should try and get a post as ship's surgeon,
or army surgeon in India, if I could get any leave of absence
which would give me a little time to myself, but anyhow I am
certain I shall never be able to settle down quietly in England.
You talked about me being at an age of irresponsibility, but I
don't see that I am, as supposing I don't manage to learn these
infernal languages (why was anyone fool enough to build the
tower of Babel?) everyone will be disgusted with me."
In December there was more talk of his going to Dresden to learn German,
but he himself voted for Wiesbaden as being more of a country district
where he would have more opportunities for shooting and fishing. After a
short visit home his father took him to Wiesbaden in the spring of 1869,
when he wrote to his sister "Locky":--
"Many thanks for your spiritual letter which almost tempts me to
commit suicide; if I can't get good shooting and fishing in this
world I'll have it in the next, if what the Chinaman says is
true; but by hook or by crook I will have some in this world
too, and make some rare natural history collections into the
bargain. But first I must make a little money, but how? not by
scribbling away on a three-legged stool in a dingy office in
London. I am becoming more and more convinced every day that I
should never be able to stand that and everybody I know or have
ever had anything to do with says the same thing. I have a great
many qualifications for getting on in one of our colonies, viz.
perseverance, energy, and a wonderfully good constitution. What
makes me recur to the old subject is this: I have made the
acquaintance of a family here of the name of K----. I always
forget their name although I know them intimately. This
gentleman, a German from Brunswick, has been twenty years in
Natal (where he made his fortune) and since then eight years in
England, and now has become regularly English (speaking English,
indeed, without the slightest accent). His wife is an
Englishwoman who was born in the Cape Colony, but has always
lived with him in Natal; and then he has a very large family.
These people give the most splendid accounts of Natal. Firstly,
they say that the climate is superb, there being no winter and
it not being so hot in summer as in Germany. Then they say that
the country is lovely beyond description. They do not praise
Cape Colony, only Natal, which they describe as a perfect
paradise. They say, too, that Natal itself is a wonderfully gay
place and that the society there is very good. The wife says she
can't stand Europe at all, the climate is so detestable
compared with that of Natal. She says that she often used to go
for weeks and weeks up country with her husband and children on
shooting excursions, sleeping out in tents all the time, and
that taking into consideration the beautiful climate and country
there is no enjoyment equal to it, and I am fully of her
opinion. They travelled once three days with Dr. Livingstone,
but you will hear all about it from them when you come over
here."
He arrived at Wiesbaden in September and took up his residence with Herr
Knoch, who lived in the Roderallee. In December he met the Colchester
family, with whom he became great friends.
At this time he enjoyed the music every afternoon at the Kursaal, and
was amused in the evening to see the gambling that went on. One night a
Russian lost 100,000 francs. "What an April fool!" is Selous' only
comment. He had at this time a nice dog named Bell, to whom he was much
attached. He is always writing for trout-flies, or books on sport or
natural history. "I wouldn't care to go to Rome and see the Holy Week,
but I should like to go to Russia, Sweden, or some other country where
some shooting or fishing is to be had, but I must be patient and make
some money, though I don't know how. Yesterday I went down to the Rhine,
after my German and music lessons, but only brought back three small
fish. A few days ago an officer was shot dead in a duel at Mayence.
Verdict, 'Serve him right.'"
Miss Colchester thus recalls certain incidents of Selous' life at
Wiesbaden. "As showing his sporting nature, I may mention that he swam
the Rhine near Biebrich to retrieve a wild duck he had shot for us. It
was blocked with ice at the time, but that did not daunt him. One day we
were all skating on the frozen waters of the Kursaal Gardens when the
ice suddenly broke up and I was thrown into the deep water. Without a
moment's hesitation Fred jumped in and supported me under the arms until
help came. He was a dear boy and we all loved him."
Selous set himself to learn the language as thoroughly as he could in
the time at his disposal, but the cold study of German verbs was hard
for a boy of seventeen with the spring in his bones and the sun glinting
on the forest oaks.
When summer came young Selous spent all his spare time chiefly with his
friend Colchester, roving the woods and opens in search of birds'-nests
and butterflies. The woods in the neighbourhood of Wiesbaden were, as is
usual in Germany, strictly preserved and, therefore, being forbidden
ground, offered an especial attraction to the young naturalist. On two
of these forays he had been stopped and warned by a forester named
Keppel, who though an oldish man was immensely active and powerful. From
him Selous had several narrow escapes, but the day of reckoning was at
hand. In the heart of the forest Selous had one day observed a pair of
honey-buzzards, which being frequently seen afterwards about the same
spot, he concluded must have a nest somewhere. These birds are somewhat
uncommon even in Germany, and Selous naturally longed to find the nest
and take the eggs. At last one day he and Colchester found the nest on
the top of a high fir tree, but on climbing up to it Selous observed
that there were no eggs. A few days later the two marauders set off at
dawn and again approached the nest, Colchester being left at the foot of
the tree to keep watch. Selous was in the act of descending the tree
when Keppel suddenly appeared and by his words and actions showed that
he was in a furious rage.
"Now I shall take you to prison," he roared, as he seized hold of the
coat in which Selous had hidden the two eggs he had taken.
By this time, however, the fighting spirit was aroused on both sides,
for Selous had no intention either of being captured or resigning his
treasures quietly. A fierce struggle ensued in which the coat was torn
in half, when at last Selous, losing his temper, gave the old forester a
right-hander on the jaw which dropped him like a felled ox.
The boys were now alarmed and for a moment Selous thought he must have
killed the man, but as he showed signs of recovering they took to their
heels and ran home with all possible speed. Since complications were
bound to follow Selous at once consulted a lawyer, who advised him to
pack up his traps and leave Prussia. Accordingly he took the train and
went to Salzburg in Austria, where he knew he would be beyond the power
of German courts. Selous' chief sorrow over the unfortunate affair seems
to be that he lost his rare eggs.
Soon after he arrived at Salzburg Selous heard that his friend, Charley
Colchester, who had escaped to Kronberg, but was followed and arrested,
had been condemned to a week's imprisonment (without the option of a
fine) for taking eggs on two occasions.
"If I had been caught," writes Selous, "I should have got two or
three months instead of a week's imprisonment, for both the
lawyer and the Burgomaster to whom I spoke, said that the taking
of eggs was but a small matter in the eyes of Prussian law
compared with resisting an official."
The Austrian with whom he lived at Salzburg seems to have been a
pleasant fellow named Rochhart, who had travelled much in Greece and
America. Selous seems to have liked the genial Austrians far better than
the Prussians and especially enjoyed the Tyrolese music and the
butterfly hunting in the woods when the weather was fine. Writing to his
mother (July 5th, 1870), he speaks of his enthusiasm as a collector:--
"Why I feel the absence of the sun so very acutely is because,
when the sun is not shining no butterflies, or none worth
having, are to be got. Now this is just the time for the Purple
Emperors, some specimens of which I want very much to get, and
so I have been exceedingly provoked. I found out the place where
the P.E.'s were to be found and for the last seven days I have
been every day to that place (which is from five to six miles
from Salzburg) and there I have waited from twelve to three,
through rain and everything else, hoping and hoping for a
passing sunbeam, as I could see them every now and then at the
tops of the trees, and if the sun had but come out for a few
minutes some of them would have been sure to have come down and
settled in the road. Well, during all the hours of watching in
those seven days the sun never, never, never broke through the
clouds for one instant, and each day I returned home more
disappointed and more indignant against providence than the day
before. I think that if this sort of thing had continued for
another week I should have gone into a chronic state of
melancholy and moroseness for the rest of my life, and people
would have said, 'Ah, he must have had some great disappointment
in early life.' These are the sort of things that rile me more
than anything else, for you can't think how I put my whole soul
into egg and butterfly collecting when I'm at it, and how I boil
up and over with impotent rage at not being able to attain the
object of my desires on account of the weather over which I have
no control. However, perseverance can struggle against anything.
This afternoon the sun shone out and I immediately caught two
Purple Emperors (_Apatura Iris_), and two very similar
butterflies unknown in England (_Apatura Ilia_), also a great
many White Admirals (_Limenitis Camilla_), not quite the same as
the English White Admiral (_Limenitis Sybilla_), but very like;
all butterflies well worth having. If the weather will but
continue fine for a few days I will soon make some good
additions to my collection, but it is hopeless work collecting
butterflies in bad weather. I think I must be set down as a
harmless lunatic by the peasants in the neighbourhood already."
Selous was not long at Salzburg before he found an old chamois hunter
and poacher, with whom he made frequent excursions into the neighbouring
mountains. On one of these trips he killed two chamois, and the head of
one of these is still in the museum at Worplesdon.
The Franco-German war now began and Selous was greatly incensed that the
general feeling in England was in favour of Prussia.
"Vive la France, a bas la Prusse," he writes to his mother (July
22nd, 1870), "your saying the war is 'likely to become a bloody
butchery through all the Christian nations of civilized Europe,'
is rather a startler. Since this morning I have read all the
Cologne and Vienna papers for the last week and you are most
certainly several miles ahead of the most far-seeing and
sanguinary politician, in either Austria or Prussia. You say that
Bavaria has joined Prussia and Austria is likely to do so too.
Bavaria cannot help itself or would not have joined Prussia. The
Crown Prince of Prussia is in Munich with 15,000 Prussian troops,
and the Bavarians are forced by treaty to aid Prussia or they
would not do so. Prussia is the only power that is likely to take
any part in the war at present. Austria most certainly will not
interfere unless she is forced into it. And England and America
are less likely still to do so. The post now goes to England by
Trieste, by sea, of course, and supposing the war does become a
bloody butchery through all the Christian nations of civilized
Europe, an Italian passenger steamer would surely not be meddled
with. Whatever happens, the war cannot come here, for there is
nothing to be fought for in the Tyrol and no room to fight for it
in the mountain valleys if there was. So that the route to
Trieste and from thence to England will always be open. The
people say that in 1866, when the war between Austria and Prussia
was going on, they never knew anything about it here. As for the
money, you can easily send a letter of credit to a bank in
Salzburg or Munich and that difficulty would be got over. For
several months at least it is not at all likely that any other
nation will join either party, England least of all; and
supposing that England were drawn into it eventually, you would
surely be able to tell long before war was declared if such was
likely to be the case, and send me word, for the postal
communications will not be stopped until then via Trieste. It
seems to me most ridiculous to predict so much when so little is
known. Unless you really think in your heart of hearts that it is
necessary for me to come, please let me remain here a few months
longer; England taking part in the war is the only thing that can
stop either letters or myself from reaching you, and surely you
cannot tell me in cold blood that England is likely to be drawn
into the war for months and months to come, at least all the
Prussian papers declare most positively that it is not likely
that either America or England will take any part in the war,
and surely they as a party most intensely interested would say
something about it if they thought that there was the slightest
chance of England assisting. Gladstone, you know, will do his
utmost to keep England neutral. Austria was almost ruined by the
last war, but is now rapidly increasing in wealth and if drawn
into the war would be utterly ruined, so that she will do her
utmost to keep out of it. Why I so particularly wish to remain
here a few months longer is because if I return to England all
the money and time that has been wasted in zither at any rate, if
not violin lessons, will have been utterly thrown away and I
shall lose a pleasure and a pastime that would have lasted me my
whole life. In three or four months more, as I am working very
hard at it, I shall know enough of the zither to do without a
master. The violin is all very well, but it is not an instrument
that one derives much pleasure from playing unaccompanied, unless
one plays extremely well, whereas the zither, like the piano,
needs no accompaniment. The zither I have now is not the little
one you saw at Wiesbaden, but an Austrian zither which is much
larger and tuned lower, and altogether a finer instrument."
He seems to have formed a very accurate estimate of the German character
in war. Writing to his mother, October 20th, 1870, he says:--
"I have seen and spoken to several Bavarian soldiers in a
village just beyond the Bavarian frontier, who were at Woerth and
Sedan, and who have been sent back on the sick list; they say
there is a great deal of sickness among the German troops, out
of the 1000 men from the two villages of Schellenberg and
Berchtesgaden who were all in the actions at Woerth and Sedan,
not a single one has as yet been killed, so I was told, though a
great many have been wounded. I see a great deal said in the
English papers about the 'Francs tireurs' being little better
than murderers. I think that the French ought to consider all
the soldiers composing the German armies as so many burglars,
and shoot them down like rabbits in every possible manner; and,
moreover, as the Germans are murdering the peasants, men,
women, and children, for such offences as being in possession
of an old sword, in every direction, I think the French would be
perfectly justified in shooting every German soldier they take
prisoner. After the affair at Bazeilles, I don't believe any
more in the humanity of the Germans."
At this time Selous met an old Hungarian gentleman, who had large farms
in Hungary, and offered to take him for two years to learn the business.
But his father threw cold water on this project and told his son to
remain at Salzburg until he had completed his German education.
Accordingly he continued to reside there until June, 1871, when he went
on a short visit to Vienna, of which he writes (June 17th, 1871):-
"I think I have seen everything that is to be seen in Vienna.
The crown jewels, which I daresay you have seen, were very
interesting and very magnificent. The Emperor's stables, too, I
thought very interesting; he has an immense number of horses,
some of them very beautiful indeed. We found an English groom
there who had almost forgotten his own language; he had been
away from England nine years, and so it is not to be wondered
at, as I daresay he rarely speaks anything but German and never
reads anything at all. The theatre in Vienna (I mean the new
opera house) is most magnificent. It was only completed in 1868,
so I don't suppose you have ever seen it. I believe it is
acknowledged to be at present the finest theatre in the world.
It is an immense size, almost as large as Covent Garden, and the
decorations inside and out, and the galleries and everything
appertaining to it are most beautiful and tasteful. We saw
'Martha,' 'Tannhaeuser,' and 'Faust' there, and a little sort of
pantomime entitled 'Flick and Flock.' I liked 'Martha' very
much. They have a splendid tenor named Walter, who took the part
of Lionel. I daresay you will hear him in London some day. I
didn't like 'Tannhaeuser' very much; I couldn't understand the
story at all and there were no pretty airs in it. 'Faust' was
splendid, Marguerite and Faust were, I should think, as near
perfection as possible, and Mephistopheles was very good, though
at first he gave me the impression of looking more like a clown
than the devil. The scenery in all these pieces was splendid.
'Flick and Flock' was exactly like an English pantomime with
dumb show. The scenery was really wonderful; there were about
half a dozen transformation scenes, none of which would have
disgraced a London stage on Boxing Night."
In August he arrived home in England, and during the next three months
he attended classes at the University College Hospital (London) to gain
some knowledge of medical science preparatory to going to Africa.
[Illustration: THE PLAINS OF THE ORANGE FREE STATE IN 1871.]
FOOTNOTE:
[3] Mr. Boughton Leigh.
CHAPTER III
1871-1875
There are few of us whose early aspirations and subsequent acts are not
influenced by literature. Some book comes just at the time of our life
when we are most impressionable and seems exactly to fit in with our
ideas and temperament. To this rule Selous was no exception, for he
often admitted in after-life that the one book which definitely sent him
to Africa and made him a pioneer and a hunter of Big Game, was Baldwin's
"African Hunting from Natal to the Zambesi," published in 1864. Example
in any line of adventure is recurrent, and especially so if the field of
adventure is not spoilt by what we may call excessive "civilization."
There have been, as it were, landmarks in the literature of African
sport and travel, each book being more or less cumulative in its effect.
Amongst books that mattered, perhaps the first was Burchell's
fully-illustrated folio and the lesser writings of an English officer
who hunted in the Orange Free State late in the eighteenth and early in
the nineteenth century. The works of these men incited Captain
Cornwallis Harris to undertake an extensive trip as far as the Limpopo.
He was a capable artist and an excellent writer, and published a
magnificent folio describing his adventures and the natural history of
the large mammals, which still commands a high price. He at once
inspired many hunters to follow in his footsteps, and several of these,
such as Roualeyn Gordon Cumming, William Cotton Oswell, Sir Francis
Galton, and C. J. Anderson, wrote either books of great value or
portions of standard works. Gordon Cumming did an immense amount of
shooting--far too much most people now think--but his volume, written in
the romantic British style, is one that will always remain a classic in
the world of sporting literature. His tales of the game he saw or what
he killed were not always accepted as true facts, but from all accounts,
gathered from independent sources, it is now admitted that Gordon
Cumming was a fearless hunter and did in the main accomplish all the
principal exploits to which he laid claim.
"Lake Ngami, or Explorations in South-Western Africa," by Charles John
Anderson, published in 1856, with some admirable early illustrations by
Wolf, gives an account of the author's four years' wanderings (partly
with Francis Galton) in the Western Wilderness, and is a truthful and
excellent record of the Great Game in these districts at that time.
Galton also published "Tropical Africa," but did not give much space to
sport or natural history. Oswell, a great hunter and companion of
Livingstone in many of his travels, also wrote in the last days of his
life an admirable contribution to the "Badminton Library," which
embodied an account of his life and adventures amongst the Great Game of
South Africa in the forties. It is well illustrated by Wolf, the
greatest painter of birds and mammals who ever lived. Other men of his
date who were excellent hunters, who left no records of their lives,
were Vardon, General Sir Thomas Steele, and Thomas Baines, who, without
prejudice, did perhaps as much exploration, geographical work, painting,
and hunting as any Afrikander of his time. Baines, I believe, really
discovered the Falls of the Zambesi before Livingstone visited them, and
no adequate tribute to the work of this remarkable man has ever
appeared. The amount of maps he prepared of out-of-the-way corners of
South Africa from the Zambesi northwards, was very great and his work
was only known to the pioneers like Livingstone, Oswell, Selous and
others who followed after him and made use of his industry. Baines, too,
though almost uneducated, was a very capable artist and I think I must
have seen at least two hundred of his paintings in oil. He liked to
depict landscapes and wild animals. Whilst those of the latter were not
above criticism, his views of the rivers, lakes, forests, mountains, and
plains of the Free State, swarming with game, are a truthful record of
the days that are no more, and will doubtless live in South African
history when more ambitious, technically correct works are forgotten.[4]
After these sportsmen and writers came William Charles Baldwin, who
wandered, primarily with the object of hunting elephants, from Zululand
to the Zambesi and west to Lake Ngami between the years 1852 and 1860.
His book "African Hunting and Adventure" was published in 1863, and was
beautifully illustrated by Wolf and Zwecker. It was an immediate success
and caused many, like Selous, to leave the ways of civilization and seek
adventure in the wilds. Baldwin was an excellent and fearless rider (he
rode in a steeplechase when he was seventy) and a good shot, and the
accounts of his adventures could hardly have failed to make their
impress on the minds of young men of the right kind, but, as he admits,
the elephants were on the wane even in his day (he never succeeded in
hunting in the main haunts in Matabeleland), so future travellers had to
exploit new fields.
On the 4th of September, 1871, Selous landed at Algoa Bay with L400 in
his pocket. He went there determined to make his way into the interior
and to lead the free life of the hunter as described by Gordon Cumming,
Baldwin, and others. First he decided to go to the Diamond Fields, and
left Port Elizabeth on September 6th with a young transport rider named
Reuben Thomas, who conveyed him and his baggage for the sum of eight
pounds. After a slow journey of nearly two months he reached his
destination. On the road by hunting hard he had managed to kill "one
bushbuck ram, one duiker, one springbuck, one klipspringer, and eight
grey and red roebucks, all of which I carried on my own shoulders to the
waggons."
Most unfortunately, however, a valuable double breechloading rifle with
which he had been shooting was stolen on the day he reached Kimberley.
Next day he bought a horse and rode over to Pniel. There he met Mr.
Arthur Lang, and on October 31st went with him on a trading trip through
Griqualand, passing down the Vaal and Orange rivers. He found the
Bechuanas an industrious race, "but they are the stingiest, most
begging, grasping, and disagreeable set of people that it is possible to
imagine." He was much disappointed to find the country so bare of game.
"The great drawback was that there was no game whatever, not even
springbucks, the Kafirs having hunted everything into the far interior,
so that now there is more game within five miles of Cape Town than here,
where we were more than 600 miles up country." The party returned to the
Diamond Fields at the end of March and sold off their produce--cattle,
goats, and ostrich feathers at a profit of about L100.
Selous then set about his preparations for a journey into the far
interior. From a trader he purchased a waggon, a span of young oxen, and
five horses. A young fellow named Dorehill and a Mr. Sadlier then agreed
to accompany him. The whole party seems to have been very badly armed
with indifferent weapons. At the end of April, 1872, Selous and his two
friends trekked north and only got as far as Kuruman, a delay of a
fortnight being caused through the horses running away. Here Selous met
Mr. William Williams, an experienced trader and hunter, from whom he
purchased two unprepossessing-looking large-bore elephant guns as used
by the Boer native hunters. Cheap as these guns were, about six pounds
a-piece and using only common trade gunpowder, they were most effective
weapons, for in three seasons with them (1872-1874) Selous killed
seventy-eight elephants, all but one of which he shot whilst hunting on
foot. He used to load them whilst running at full speed by simply diving
his hand into a leather bag of powder slung at his side. "They kicked
most frightfully, and in my case the punishment I received from these
guns has affected my nerves to such an extent as to have materially
influenced my shooting ever since, and I am heartily sorry I ever had
anything to do with them."
After a trying trek the party arrived at Secheli's in twenty days
through more or less waterless country, but just before reaching these
kraals an accident happened which might easily have cost Selous and
Dorehill their lives. Selous was taking some cartridges from a box on
the side of the waggon, in which was about a pound of loose gunpowder,
when Dorehill came up and dropped some ashes from his pipe into the box.
An immediate explosion followed and both were badly burnt. Sadlier,
however, rose to the emergency and "at once rubbed a mixture of oil and
salt into our skinless faces; it was not a pleasant process." After a
visit to Secheli, who was a most completely civilized Kafir, Selous and
his friends moved northward on the 28th June, with Frank Mandy, who was
about to trade in the Matabele country. On the road to Boatlanarma they
experienced great difficulties and were once three days and three nights
without water. About the middle of August they left Bamangwato, where
Selous purchased a salted horse. By exchanging his new waggon for a
smaller second-hand one, a trade rifle and the horse itself valued at
L75, he made a deal with a shrewd but uneducated Scotchman named Peter
Skinner. Of course the new purchase ran away at the first opportunity,
which delayed the party for another week. Near Pelatsi Selous had his
first experience of real African hardship, and his subsequent account of
being lost in the bush for four days and three nights, without covering
except his shirt and breeches and without food or drink, is one of the
most thrilling he ever wrote.[5]
Selous and his comrades here met their first giraffes and proceeded to
give chase.
"After a time the giraffes separated, and suffice it to say
that, at the end of an hour or so, I found myself lying on my
back, with my right leg nearly broken, by coming violently into
contact with the trunk of a tree; and, on getting up and
remounting my horse, not only were the giraffes out of sight,
but nowhere could I see either of my two companions. Though, of
course, my inexperience contributed much to the unsuccessful
issue of this, my first giraffe hunt, yet I cannot help thinking
that my horse also had a good deal to do with it, for, having
been bred in the open plains of the Transvaal Republic, he was
quite at sea in the thick forests of the interior; and if, when
going at full gallop through a thick wood, you intend to pass on
one side of a tree, but your horse, being of a different
opinion, swerves suddenly and goes to the other, it is awkward,
to say the least of it.
"My first object was to rejoin my companions; so, not having
heard a shot, and imagining they must by this time have given up
chasing the giraffes, I fired as a signal, and at once heard a
shot in answer far to my right, and rode in that direction.
After riding some distance I again pulled up, and shouted with
all my might, and then, not hearing anything, fired another
signal shot, but without effect. As my horse was very tired, I
now off-saddled for a short time and then fired a third shot,
and listened intently for an answer, but all was silent as the
grave; so, as the sun was now low, I saddled up again and struck
a line for the waggon road, thinking my friends had already done
the same thing. In this way I rode on at a slow pace, for my
horse was tired and thirsty, keeping steadily in one direction
till the sun, sinking lower and lower, at last disappeared
altogether. I expected I should have reached the road before
this, and, attributing my not doing so to the fact of the path
having taken a turn to the right, still kept on till twilight
had given place to moonlight--a fine bright moonlight, indeed,
for it wanted but two nights to the full, but, under the
circumstances, perhaps a trifle cold and cheerless. Still,
thinking I must be close to the road, I kept on for another
couple of hours or so, when, it being intensely cold, I resolved
to try and light a fire, and pass the night where I was and ride
on again early the following morning. Having no matches, I had
to make use of my cartridges, of which I had only three
remaining, in endeavouring to get a light. Breaking one of these
open, I rubbed some of the powder well into a bit of linen torn
from my shirt, slightly wetted, and, putting it into the muzzle
of the rifle, ignited it with the cap and a little powder left
in the bottom of the cartridge. So far well and good, but this
was, unfortunately, almost as far as I could get; for, though I
managed to induce some grass to smoulder, I couldn't for the
life of me make it flare, and soon had the mortification of
finding myself, after two more unsuccessful attempts, just as
cold and, hungry as before, and minus my three cartridges to
boot. Were the same circumstances to occur again, no doubt
everything would be very different; but at that time I was quite
a tyro in all forest lore. It was now piercingly cold, though
during the day the sun had been as hot as at midsummer in
England--regular South African fashion. Still, I thought it
better to pass the night where I was; so, tying my horse to a
tree, I cut a little grass with my pocket knife to lie upon, and
turned in. My entire clothing consisted of a hat, shirt, pair of
trousers, and veldt shoes, as I had ridden away from the waggon
without my coat. However, lying on my back, with my felt hat for
a pillow, I put the saddle over my chest and closed my eyes in
the vain hope that I should soon fall asleep and forget my
cares; vain indeed, for the bitter cold crept in gradually and
stealthily from my feet upwards, till I was soon shivering from
head to foot as if my very life depended on it. After having
worked hard at this unpleasant exercise for a couple of hours or
more, watching the moon all the time, and cursing its tardy
pace, I could stand it no longer; so, getting up with
difficulty--for I was regularly stiffened by the cold--I ran
backwards and forwards to a tree at a short distance until I was
again warm, when I once more lay down; and in this manner the
weary hours wore away till day dawned. During the night a couple
of hyenas passed close to me, enlivening the silence with their
dismal howlings. I have often thought since that they must have
been on their way to drink, perhaps at some pit or spring not
far off; how I wished that I had known where! I will take this
opportunity of saying that the howl of the African hyena is
about the most mournful and weird-like sound in nature, being a
sort of prolonged groan, rising in cadence till it ends in a
shriek; they only laugh when enjoying a good feed.
"At first dawn of day I once more saddled up and rode in the
same direction as before. My poor horse was so tired and thirsty
that he would only go at a very slow pace; so I didn't make
much progress. On coming to a high tree I stopped and climbed up
it, and looked about me to try and recognize some landmark. On
every side the country was covered with forest, and in the
distance were several low ranges of hills, yet nothing seemed
familiar to my eye. Right ahead, in the direction in which I had
been riding, appeared a line of densely wooded hills, with one
single kopje standing alone just in front of them, and thither I
determined to ride. On the way I passed three beautiful
gemsbuck, which allowed me to come quite close to them, though
they are usually very wild; but they had nothing to fear from
me, as I had no cartridges, and so could do nothing more than
admire them. Thus I rode on and on, until the idea occurred to
me that I must have ridden across the road (a mere narrow track)
without noticing it in the moonlight, as I had constantly been
star-gazing after the sun went down, so as to guide my course by
the position of the Southern Cross. After a time, I at last felt
so sure that this was the case, that I turned my horse's head to
the right-about, and rode back again in the direction from which
I had just come."
He was now hopelessly lost but did not give way to despair, as so many
in a similar position have done. Nothing but a level sea of forest
surrounded him, so he turned his jaded horse to the setting sun in the
west in the hope of again striking the road. After another night in the
wilderness he awoke to find his horse gone. Far to the south-west was a
line of hills and after walking without food or water till the moon
rose, he reached the mountains. At sunrise he topped the crest of the
range, hoping to see the maize fields of Bamangwato, but saw nothing.
Worn out with thirst, fatigue, and hunger he started again at sunrise
and at last at sundown he met two Kafirs who eventually took him to
their kraal and gave him water and milk.
"The next morning, as soon as it was light, accompanied by the
Kafir who carried my rifle, I made a start, and, though very
tired and worn out from privation, managed to reach the waggons
late in the afternoon, after an absence of five days and four
nights. How I enjoyed the meal that was hastily prepared for
me, and how delightful it was to keep out the bitter cold with a
couple of good blankets, I will leave the reader to conjecture."
Of course, he lost his valuable salted horse, which although hobbled,
found its way back to Bamangwato. But Selous could never claim it as he
had sold his right to it to a Mr. Elstob at Tati. At Goqui he saw his
first lions. Unfortunately he had fired a shot at two lionesses running
away, when a fine lion with dark coloured mane stood up and offered him
a splendid shot at 80 yards, but his rifle was empty, and as he had no
dogs to follow the lions when they had vanished, his first encounter
with lions gave him much disappointment. At the end of August they
reached Tati, and on leaving this place and passing the Ramaqueban river
the following day, Selous says: "Here I first saw a sable antelope, one
of the handsomest animals in the world," and anyone, indeed, who sees
this magnificent creature for the first time never forgets it.
Next day he reached Minyama's kraal, the frontier outpost of the
Matabele country, where most of the inhabitants were Makalakas in native
dress. The country now became beautiful and park-like in character, and
this extends to Bulawayo, the town founded by Lobengula in 1870, and
where the sable king dwelt. On receipt of messages announcing their
arrival, the king arrived, dressed in a greasy shirt, a costume which
shortly afterwards he discarded for native dress. "He asked me what I
had come to do," writes Selous. "I said I had come to hunt elephants,
upon which he burst out laughing, and said, 'Was it not steinbucks' (a
diminutive species of antelope) 'that you came to hunt? Why, you're only
a boy.' I replied that, although a boy, I nevertheless wished to hunt
elephants and asked his permission to do so, upon which he made some
further disparaging remarks regarding my youthful appearance, and then
rose to go without giving me any answer."
But Selous was persistent and again begged for permission. "This time he
asked me whether I had ever seen an elephant, and upon my saying no,
answered, 'Oh, they will soon drive you out of the country, but you may
go and see what you can do!'" When Selous asked him where he might go,
Lobengula replied impatiently, "Oh, you may go wherever you like, you
are only a boy."
It was about this time that the famous Boer elephant hunter, Jan
Viljoen, arrived at Bulawayo and offered to take Sadlier and Selous to
his waggons on the River Gwenia to join his hunting party. This was an
opportunity not to be lost. In eight days the party, after crossing the
Longwe, Sangwe, Shangani, and Gwelo, reached the Gwenia and found the
patriarchal encampment of the Boer elephant hunters. The Boers then, as
now, travelled even into the far interior with wives, children, cows,
sheep, goats, and fowls, and established a "stand-place" whilst the men
hunted in all directions, being absent for a week to a month at a time.
A slight accident now prevented Selous from going in on foot with the
Viljoens to hunt in the "fly." He went off at the Boer's request to buy
some corn and on the way back, in passing some Griqua waggons at Jomani,
he saw for the first time a Hottentot named Cigar, with whom later he
became better acquainted.
Cigar was an experienced hunter and as it seemed now hopeless to follow
Viljoen he decided to go in and hunt with the Hottentot. It may be
gathered how roughly they lived from Selous' own words: "Having now run
through all my supplies of coffee, tea, sugar, and meal, we had nothing
in the provision line but Kafir corn and meat of the animals we shot,
washed down by cold water."
Cigar--besides two Kafirs who were shooting for him, and carried their
own guns and a supply of ammunition--had only three spare boys who
carried his blankets, powder, Kafir corn, and a supply of fresh meat. He
himself carried his own rifle, a heavy old four-bore muzzle-loader. "As
for me," says Selous, "having had to leave two of my Kafirs to look
after my horses and oxen, I had but one youngster with me, who carried
my blanket and spare ammunition, whilst I shouldered my own old
four-bore muzzle-loader, and carried besides a leather bag filled with
powder, and a pouch containing twenty four-ounce round bullets. Though
this was hardly doing the thing _en grand seigneur_, I was young and
enthusiastic in those days and trudged along under the now intense heat
with a light heart."
It must be remembered that at this time nearly all the old Boer and
English elephant-hunters, such as men like Piet Schwarz, William
Finaughty, Hartley, the Jennings family, J. Giffard, T. Leask, and H.
Biles, had given up the game of elephant-hunting when horses could be no
longer used and the elephants themselves must be pursued on foot in the
"fly." Only George Wood, Jan Viljoen,[6] and the greatest hunter of all
in South Africa, Petrus Jacobs, still pursued the elephant, but the
difficulty, danger, distance, and scarcity of elephant haunts were now
so defined and the results so small that none save the very hardiest
were able to follow them.
At this time (1873) Piet Jacobs was undoubtedly the most famous hunter
in South Africa. During a long life, most of which was spent in the
Mashuna and Matabele country, he is supposed to have shot between 400
and 500 bull elephants, mostly killed by hunting them from horseback,
but even after as an old man he killed many on foot in the "fly"
country. Unlike most Boers, he constantly attacked lions whenever he had
the opportunity, and Selous considers that he shot "more lions than any
man that ever lived." His usual method in hunting these animals was, if
the first shot missed, to loose three or four strong "Boer" dogs, which
quickly ran the lion to bay. Then, as a rule, it was easily killed. One
day, however, in 1873, on the Umniati river he was terribly mauled by a
lion that charged after being bayed by his three dogs. His shot at the
charging lion missed, and he was thrown to the ground and severely
bitten on the thigh, left arm, and hand. The dogs, however, now came up
and saved his life, but it was a long time before he recovered. He said
that, unlike the experience of Dr. Livingstone, the bites of the lion
were extremely painful, at which Selous humorously remarks that the
absence of suffering in such a case is an especial mercy "which
Providence does not extend beyond ministers of the Gospel."
Of William Finaughty, the greatest of the English elephant-hunters,
neither Selous nor any contemporary writer gives any particulars, so I
am indebted to Mr. G. L. Harrison, an American gentleman, for his
"Recollections of William Finaughty," which was privately printed in
1916. He met Finaughty, who was then a very slight old man, with a
wonderful memory and much weakened by attacks of fever, in 1913.
Finaughty was one of the first white men to hunt elephants in
Matabeleland, and his activities extended from 1864 to 1875, when he
gave up serious hunting because he could no longer pursue them on
horseback.
Finaughty describes himself as a harum-scarum youth who left Grahamstown
at the age of twenty-one early in 1864. He passed north through the Free
State, then swarming with tens of thousands of black wildebeest,
blesbok, springbok, quagga, blue wildebeest, and ostrich, and made his
way to Matabeleland, then ruled by Mzilikatse, a brother of the Zulu
king Chaka. After sport with lion and buffalo on the road, for all game,
including elephants, were abundant at this time, he reached Tati. Old
Mzilikatse was then a physical wreck but treated the Englishman well,
although at times he had violent outbursts of passion. Finaughty was
witness of a great dance in which 2500 warriors took part, and on which
occasion 540 oxen were slaughtered. Horse-sickness was then rife in the
country and the party lost fourteen horses out of seventeen within
thirty hours. In this, his first trip, Finaughty only killed three
elephants, which he attributed to lack of experience. On his second trip
in 1865 he did better, whilst a third in 1866 was made purely for
trading, yet he shot eight elephants and then decided to become a hunter
only.
On the fourth trip he shot nineteen elephants, but in 1868, on the
Umbila, he states that he had "the two finest months of my life. In all
I shot 95 elephants, the ivory weighing 5000 lbs."
One day he had a narrow escape in the sandy bed of the Sweswe river. He
had wounded an old bull when he fired at it again as it was on the point
of charging. His boy had put in two charges and the hunter was nearly
knocked out of the saddle by the recoil. The elephant then charged and
got right on the top of him, but, at the moment when death seemed
imminent, the elephant's shoulder-bone broke and he was helpless--thus
Finaughty escaped. In those days the elephants did not know the meaning
of gunfire. Finaughty one day bagged six bulls in a river bed, as they
did not run on the shots being fired.
In 1869 he went into the elephant country one hundred miles beyond the
Tuli and remained there three years, sending out his ivory and receiving
fresh provisions and ammunition on the return of his waggons. In five
months he killed fifty-three elephants yielding 3000 lbs. of ivory. In
one day he killed five bulls and five cows, which was his "record" bag
for one day. In the two following years he killed a large number of
elephants, but does not state the precise number. In 1870 he again
hunted elephants without giving particulars.
From 1870 to 1874 Finaughty remained at Shoshong as a trader and
prospered.
It is interesting to note that Finaughty, like many experienced hunters,
does not agree with Selous in considering the lion the most dangerous of
all African game. He repeatedly says that buffalo-hunting is the most
risky of all forms of hunting.[7] "Far better," he says, "follow up a
wounded lion than a wounded buffalo, for the latter is the fiercest and
most cunning animal to be found in Africa." He himself had many narrow
escapes from buffaloes and only one or two unpleasant incidents with
lions. "No," he remarks again, "a man who is out after buffalo must
shoot to kill and not to wound, and if he fails to bring his quarry down
he should on no account venture to follow up unless in open country. He
should never follow a buffalo into cover, unless he is accompanied by a
number of good dogs. Many a good man has lost his life through neglect
of this precaution." Finaughty lived in the Transvaal from 1883 to 1887,
and then moved to Johannesburg in the early days of the "boom." In the
nineties he returned to Matabeleland to spend the rest of his days on
his farm near Bulawayo. He was still alive in 1914.
What would, however, have been only toil and hardship to older men was
small discomfort to a tough young fellow like Selous, who was now in his
natural element. Almost at once he and Cigar tracked and killed a grand
old bull which carried tusks of 61 and 58 lbs. On the following days
they killed six elephants, Cigar accounting for four. Selous here pays a
high tribute to the good qualities of his dusky companion. "Cigar was a
slight-built, active Hottentot, possessed of wonderful powers of
endurance, and a very good game shot, though a bad marksman at a target.
These qualities, added to lots of pluck, made him a most successful
elephant-hunter; and for foot hunting in the 'fly' country I do not
think I could have had a more skilful preceptor; for although only an
uneducated Hottentot--once a jockey at Grahamstown--he continually
allowed me to have the first shot, whilst the elephants were still
standing--a great advantage to give me--and never tried in any way to
over-reach me or claim animals that I had shot, as is so often done by
Boer hunters. Strangely enough, Cigar told me, when the celebrated
hunter, Mr. William Finaughty, first took him after elephants on
horseback, he had such dreadful fear of the huge beasts that, after
getting nearly caught by one, and never being able to kill any, he
begged his master to let him remain at the waggons. When I knew him this
fear must have worn off, and I have never since seen his equal as a foot
hunter." Selous did very well with Cigar, getting 450 lbs. of ivory
which he had shot himself, and another 1200 lbs. which he had traded
with the natives, thus making a clear profit of L300. When he saw the
king, he told him that the elephants had not driven him out of the
country, but that he had killed several, to which Lobengula replied,
"Why, you're a man; when are you going to take a wife?" and suggested
that he should court one at once.
Selous' friends had now all left the country, but he himself decided to
remain in Matabeleland to be ready to hunt in the following year with
George Wood. As usual, however, Lobengula took months to give his
permission, so that it was not until the 15th June, 1873, that he gave
permission to the two hunters to make a start. Even then he would not
allow them to go to the Mashuna country and stated that they must hunt
to the westward of the river Gwai.
A fortnight after leaving Bulawayo Selous and Wood reached Linquasi,
where they began to hunt, and two days later they killed two fine bull
elephants. Here they established their main hunting-camp and made raids
into the "fly." During this season of four months Selous killed
forty-two elephants and George Wood fifty. They also accounted for a
good many rhinoceros and buffalo. Their main hunting veldt was the "fly"
region between the rivers Zambesi and Gwai. It was a broken country full
of hills, "kloofs," dense bush and park-like opens. This area was
formerly inhabited by the Makalakas, but these had been driven across
the Zambesi by raiding Matabele. These regions were consequently a great
game preserve and full of elephant, black and white rhinoceros, buffalo,
zebra, sable, roan, koodoo, impala, reedbuck, klipspringer, grysbok,
bushbuck, waterbuck, and other antelopes. In "A Hunter's Wanderings"
Selous gives many interesting accounts of his hunts after elephants, but
perhaps his best is the splendid narrative of his great day, of which I
am permitted to give his own description.[8]
"As soon as the day dawned, we sent a couple of Kafirs down to
the water to see if any elephants had been there, and on their
return in a quarter of an hour with the joyful tidings that a
fine troop of bulls had drunk during the night, we at once
started in pursuit. We found they had come down from the
right-hand side, and returned on their own spoor, feeding along
nicely as they went, so that we were in great hopes of
overtaking them without much difficulty. Our confidence,
however, we soon found was misplaced, for after a time they had
ceased to feed, and, turning back towards the N.E., had taken to
a path, along which they had walked in single file and at a
quick pace, as if making for some stronghold in the hills. Hour
after hour we trudged on, over rugged stony hills, and across
open grassy valleys, scattered over which grew clumps of the
soft-leaved machabel trees, or rather bushes; but, though the
leaves and bark of this tree form a favourite food of elephants,
those we were pursuing had turned neither to the right nor to
the left to pluck a single frond.
"After midday, the aspect of the country changed, and we entered
upon a series of ravines covered with dense, scrubby bush.
Unfortunately the grass here had been burnt off, but for which
circumstance the elephants, I feel sure, would have halted for
their midday sleep. In one of these thickets we ran on to three
black rhinoceroses (_R. bicornis_) lying asleep. When we were
abreast of them they got our wind, and, jumping up, rushed close
past the head of our line, snorting vigorously. It was a family
party, consisting of a bull, a cow, and a full-grown calf; they
passed so near that I threw at them the thick stick which I used
for a ramrod, and overshot the mark, it falling beyond them.
"Shortly after this incident, we lost the spoor in some very
hard, stony ground, and had some trouble in recovering it, as
the Kafirs, being exhausted with the intense heat, and thinking
we should not catch the elephants, had lost heart and would not
exert themselves, hoping that we would give up the pursuit. By
dint of a little care and perseverance, however, we succeeded,
and after a time again entered upon a more open country. To cut
a long story short, I suppose it must have been about two hours
before sundown when we came to a large tree, from which the
elephants had only just moved on. At first we thought they must
have got our wind and run, but on examination we found they had
only walked quietly on. We put down the water-calabashes and
axes, and the Kafirs took off their raw-hide sandals, and then
we again, quickly but cautiously, followed on the spoor. It was
perhaps five minutes later when we at last sighted them, seven
in number, and all large, full-grown bulls. W. and I walked up
to within thirty yards or so, and fired almost simultaneously;
he at one standing broadside, and I at another facing me. Our
Hottentot boy also fired, and, as the animals turned, a volley
was given by our Kafirs, about ten of whom carried guns. Not an
elephant, however, seemed any the worse, and they went away at a
great pace. Judging from the lie of the land ahead that they
would turn to the right, I made a cut with my two gun-bearers,
whilst W. kept in their wake. Fortune favoured me, for they
turned just as I had expected, and I got a splendid broadside
shot as they passed along the farther side of a little gully not
forty yards off. The Kafir having, as he ran, reloaded the gun
which I had already discharged and on which I placed most
dependence, I fired with it at the foremost elephant, an
enormous animal with long white tusks, when he was exactly
opposite to me. My boy had put in the powder with his hand, and
must have overloaded it, for the recoil knocked me down, and the
gun itself flew out of my hands. Owing to this, I lost a little
time, for, when I got hold of my second gun, the elephants had
turned back again (excepting the one just hit) towards W. and
the Kafirs. However, I gave another a bullet behind the big ribs
as he was running obliquely away from me. The first, which I had
hit right in the middle of the shoulder, was now walking very
slowly up a steep hill, looking as though he were going to fall
every instant; but, nevertheless (as until an elephant is
actually dead, there is no knowing how far he may go), I
determined to finish him before returning to the others. On
reaching the top of the hill, and hearing me coming on not a
dozen yards behind him, the huge beast wheeled round, and,
raising his gigantic ears, looked ruefully towards me. Poor
beast, he was doubtless too far gone to charge, and, on
receiving another ball in the chest, he stepped slowly
backwards, and then sinking on to his haunches, threw his trunk
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