The lecturer said that in New Zealand the interests of labour were so well safeguarded that the country is called "the working-man's paradise" (loud cheers), while the women there had votes. At this an unparalleled uproar broke out. Cheers and hisses were commingled in one tremendous cataclysm of sound.

Certainly we heard shouts of "Bravo" countered by shrieks of "Shame." The lecturer seemed dazed by the dreadful din.

A report of the "Servants' Concert" (28th July, 1913) is in rollicking vein:

Success was in the air from the very start. The crush at the doors was like Twickenham on the day of the England v. Scotland match--we had almost said the Crystal Palace on Cup Final Day. It is evident that there is a tremendous amount of talent for the stage and the music-halls in the school. To hear Gill give the tragic history of "Tommy's Little Tube of Seccotine," or the duet on the touching story of "Two Little Sausages," by Savage and Livock, would have brought tears to the eyes of a prison warder.

Then there were F. W. Gilligan to relate his horticultural, and brother A. E. R. his zoological reminiscences--works of great value to scientists and others. To hear Killick dilate upon the dangers of the new disease, the "Epidemic Rag" (which seems to be quite as catching as the mumps), Gill upon the risks of the piscatorial art, or Savage upon an original Polynesian theme, "Zulu Lulu," was to feel like Keats's watcher of the skies, "when a new planet swims into his ken." For the admirer of Spanish customs there was A. E. J. Inglis (O.A.) to sing, as only he can, the Toreador's song; while for the c.o.c.kney there was Killick to give, in his own inimitable fashion, that really touching little ballad "My Old Dutch," Ould Oireland being well catered for by Livock in "A Little Irish Girl." The pianoforte solos by Nalder, Jacob and Shirley were all excellent and thoroughly well appreciated, as was our old friend, "Let's have a Peal," by the First XI.

And now for the "star" performance of the evening. Positively for one night only, the Dulwich College Dramatic Society were down to give us W. G. O. Gill's one-act farce, "The Lottery Ticket." This fairly brought down the house. It went "with a bang," as actors say, from the very start. The great point about it was that all the performers forgot that they were acting, and were so perfectly natural. There was not a hitch. Killick, as a withered old Shylock, gave a really masterly representation of ancient villainy. Evans was admirably suited with the role of a dashing young man-about-town. The way he took his gloves off was worth a fortune in itself. We felt that there must be many degrees of blue blood in his veins. His back-chat repartee was far better than that of Mr. F. E. Smith, K.C. If Gill and Waite are in the future ever in need of a berth they should, judging by their performances in this play, apply to Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree for parts as a dilapidated charwoman and unwashed office-boy respectively. The topical allusions in the play were all thoroughly well made and appreciated. We might suggest that it is not the custom "in polite circles" to open and read other people's telegrams, but for a hardened old reprobate like Mr.

Grabbit we can feel no pity, while we can forgive anything to a Princ.i.p.al Boy like Mr. Knowall.

It is an open secret that the concert was organised by Killick.

We take this opportunity of congratulating him heartily. From what rumour says, we take it that the Powers-that-be are very pleased with the concert. So are we. It was a complete success from start to finish. It is to be hoped that it will become a regular inst.i.tution, especially considering the object it has in view--to give pleasure to those who have not often the chance of it.

In 1913 he was appointed secretary and treasurer of the magazine, and a few months later he became one of the editors. Throughout 1913 and 1914 he was the chief contributor to its pages. Reporting a lady's lecture on Tibet (October 17, 1913), he wrote:

But, at least, the Tibetans can teach us something--simplicity in ceremonies. For when Miss Kemp went to see the palace of the King all the decoration she saw there was a simple table and chair. A Tibetan kitchen was a very popular slide. In that country they apparently use a golf-bag to brew tea in, and cast-off bicycle wheels for plates. There prevails in Tibet some element of democracy, for Miss Kemp's cook was also a J.P., a Civil Servant, and held other such offices of fame. One of her a.s.sistants was a positive marvel--a human carpet-sweeper. If the floor was to be brushed he would simply roll over and over on it and clean it with his clothes! The Tibetans have no motor-bikes and no S. F.

Edges, their fastest conveyance being a yak, a species of ox, which moves at an average speed of two miles an hour (with the high gear in), and can slow down to an infinite extent. However, the nature of the country would make high speeds rather dangerous, as constantly you find yourself in danger of falling over precipices, down creva.s.ses, or of being overwhelmed by falling boulders, for the mountain lands are covered with great glaciers. It was these mountain views that were especially magnificent. They were, for the most part, taken with tele-photographic lenses at a distance of fifty or sixty miles.

To the November _Alleynian_ he contributed a racy and rattling parody of the modern sensational drama ent.i.tled _Red Blood: a Western Drama in Two Acts_, in which the dramatis personae are an English cowboy (heir to a million dollars without knowing it), an Indian chief (his friend), a wicked uncle, a murderer, and a New York detective. His historical tastes peep out in his report of a lecture delivered 7th November, 1913, on the famous mediaeval doctor, Pareil (1510-1590).

From this report the following is extracted:

Much interest attaches to the historic a.s.sociations of Pareil's life. As a famous surgeon he was in constant attendance on figures renowned in history, personages like Coligny (who was murdered by the mob of Paris while recovering from an amputation of Pareil's), Erasmus, Servetus, Leonardo da Vinci, and Catherine de Medici. Like Chaucer's doctour of physik, Pareil knew well the works of "Olde Ypocras," Galen, Avycen, etc., the famous physicians whose names have come down from history, but he was no pedantic scholar, preferring to do his own thinking. A stout Protestant, his last act was to beseech the Catholic Archbishop of Lyons, who was holding Paris against the a.s.saults of Henry of Navarre (with the result that the population of the city was perishing by thousands), to open the gates and save the inhabitants, but he beseeched in vain.

Altogether a remarkable figure, this old Pareil. Looked at in perspective, and in his era, it is clear how great a man he was.

For he, first of all men in medicine, freed the world from the influence of pedantic tradition, and paved the way for modern medical science. Then all honour to his name, for, as the Master put it in proposing the vote of thanks to Mr. Paget, the art of healing is the greatest boon which man can give to the world.

The last lecture he reported was delivered by Mr. F. M. Oldham, chief Science Master at the College, on "Primitive Man," on 3rd April, 1914.

From this report the following extract is taken:

Our main knowledge of man in the earliest stages of his existence comes from the examination of river mud. Mr. Oldham showed how different strata are built up by the river on its bed, and how in the lowest of these strata there will be found the oldest relics of man. In this way we are able to declare that the difference between the earliest man and his immediate followers lay in the question of polishing his flint instruments. That is to say, the earliest or palaeolithic man had his implements unpolished; his successors polished them, often to a beautifully smooth surface.

This Mr. Oldham ill.u.s.trated with a series of films--your pardon, slides--of the arrow-heads made by palaeolithic and neolithic man.

It was a natural step, once man had learned to polish his instruments, and when he was advanced enough to try to form conceptions of beauty for himself, that he should draw or scratch pictures on stone. Several of these Mr. Oldham showed on the screen; some of them are extraordinarily well executed and show real artistic feeling. We would particularly mention one such representation of a reindeer, and another of a man stalking a bison.

After the cave-dwellers' epoch comes that of huts, wood and bronze. Man in this stage is really but little different from what he is to-day. He has even the wit to construct himself lake-dwellings, consisting of huts placed on rafts and secured temporarily with large stones sunk in the lake-bed.

Characteristic of this period are the great tolmens and monoliths found all over the world. Neolithic man had, indeed, sometimes constructed for himself a hut of stone, as Dartmoor will testify, but the tolmens are of quite different origin, and indicate a distinctly greater mental development, in that they are usually put up as monuments to great men or events. Of the same nature are the great mounds or "barrows" that abound in Ireland; inside there was a sort of crypt in which chiefs were buried. The monoliths were constructed, as doubtless the Pyramids also were, by rolling the great stones up an inclined bank of earth previously built up.

Throughout 1914 Paul was the mainstay of the magazine. The May number contains from his pen exhaustive reports of two house matches (football), a shrewd commentary on the Junior School Cup matches, and a long report of a lecture. For the July number he wrote ten pages of cricket reports, and an account of the swimming compet.i.tion. He was also responsible for the finances of the magazine, continuing to act as secretary and treasurer. All this time he was preparing for his Oxford scholarship. If he owed much to Dulwich, the College also owed something to him. No boy ever worked harder for it, or consecrated himself with more entire devotion to its welfare.

CHAPTER VI

PUBLIC SCHOOLS AND THE WAR

_Now all the youth of England are on fire._ SHAKESPEARE: "HENRY V."

To _The Alleynian_ for October, 1914, Paul contributed an editorial article on the War that had then begun to rage in its destructive fury. Taking the view that "this war had to come sooner or later," he wrote:

When one nation has a world-wide Empire embracing a fifth of the globe, founded on principles of absolute liberty for all whom it contains, and when another, built up by the force of circ.u.mstances on a basis of military despotism, also aspires to a different sort of world-power, and challenges the first nation, whose principles it abhors as much as its own are abhorred--in these circ.u.mstances it is hopeless to talk of reconciliation till one or the other is down. Actually, Germany's monstrous conduct in violating the neutrality of a small, industrious and inoffensive Power--a neutrality to which, be it marked, Germany was as much a partner as England or France--has put her hopelessly in the wrong with the civilised world. But that does not alter the fact that the War is primarily one for political existence. Either the despotism of Potsdam or the const.i.tutional government of Westminster must survive. We, more even than Russia or France, are fighting for our very existence.

Things are, indeed, very favourable to us and to our Allies.

Through the brutal but clumsy blundering of Prussian diplomats, Europe has been long awaiting the conflagration; every move in the game has been brought out long ago. Besides, Germany undoubtedly counted on our domestic troubles and our pacific tendencies to keep us out of this conflict. They imagined France could easily be wiped out while Russia's vast bulk was slowly mobilising, and that the Russians would then be held up by the victorious legions pouring back from Paris. Then in, say, ten years they would turn on England and wipe her from the map. Our entrance into the War now has not only braced the whole moral fibre of France, Russia, Belgium and Serbia, but has strangled German commerce and held up her food supply by means of our command of the seas. Thus all the enemy plans have been thrown into confusion. We would be indeed foolish if we did not realise our position--what it means to ourselves, to Europe, and to the world. Having won the toss on a hard wicket, we are not going to put Germany in. We must fight to the death. The law is "Eat or be eaten."

In these circ.u.mstances we call on Dulwich College to realise its duties to the State. Nothing--not work nor games--must be allowed to stand before the Corps till the War is over. Special drills and parades, extra route marches, all these must be and ought to be looked forward to cheerfully and willingly. The splendid number of recruits shows that the school is not going to fail in its duty here. We are not going to indulge in theories and jingo-patriotism, but call on you with deadly seriousness--the British Empire, the British principles of liberty, all are at stake. If we go down now we go down for ever. Germany is said to have called up every male between the ages of fifteen and sixty.

If they can do that, surely we ought to be able to reply. Let that voluntary system which is the glory of our armies and navies carry us through now! We call on every one in the School to join the Corps at once.

Nothing was finer in the first months of the War than the rally of the manhood of Great Britain to the call of the country in its time of need. All cla.s.ses, rich and poor, patrician and peasant, employer and workman, were uplifted by the great occasion. Through the influence of patriotism, the recognition by all sorts and conditions of our people of the honourable obligation of fidelity to the pledged word of Britain, combined with a chivalric desire to champion the cause of weak, unoffending Belgium against the Teutonic bully--there was released in this country a flood of n.o.ble idealism and pure emotion, the memory of which those who lived during that spiritual awakening will never forget. No section of the community rose more finely to the height of the occasion than the athletes and scholars from our public schools and universities. n.o.bly did they respond to the call voiced by one of their number, R. E. Vernede (an old Pauline, now sleeping in a soldier's grave in France):

Lad, with the merry smile and the eyes Quick as the hawk's and clear as the day; You, who have counted the game the prize, Here is the game of games to play.

Never a goal--the captains say-- Matches the one that's needed now; Put the old blazer and cap away-- England's colours await your brow.

Man, with the square-set jaws and chin, Always, it seems, you have moved to your end Sure of yourself, intent to win Fame and wealth and the power to bend.

All that you've made you're called to spend-- All that you've sought you're asked to miss-- What's ambition compared with this: That a man lay down his life for his friend?

Exulting in the response of the athletes, Paul Jones found his faith in the value of games confirmed by this memorable rally to the Flag.

His last contribution to _The Alleynian_ was inspired by it. Shortly after he joined the Army he wrote to the magazine a letter (published anonymously in May, 1915) under the caption "Flannelled Fools and Muddied Oafs." In this contribution he sings a paean in praise of the amateur athlete. After reminding his readers of pre-War denunciations of "the curse of athletics," he asks, "What of athletics now?"

At present, we see that the poor, despised athlete or sportsman--call him what you will--is coming to the front, practically and metaphorically, in a way which makes one wonder if, for the higher purposes of duty, athletics are not really the very best of all systems of training. When we look at the matter in the broadest light, the explanation shines forth clearly. All learning and all business are in the end simply and solely _selfish_. For example, you work hard for a scholarship at Oxford or Cambridge--why? So that you can obtain _for yourself_--(underline these words, Mr. Printer, please!)--the advantages of 'Varsity life and culture, and to the ultimate end that you may be better fitted to make _your own_ way in life. Of course, this is necessary, but life is always very sordid in its details, and the more civilised we become, the more apparent is that sordidity. In fact, it is only on our amateur playing-fields that we become really unselfish. For here we play for a team or a side; and for the success of that side--which success, by the way, is in no sense material or selfish--we are prepared to take all sorts of pains, to scorn delights and live laborious days. It is the clearest manifestation of the simple, unsophisticated man coming to the front and tearing aside for a brief moment the cloud of materialism with which civilisation has been enveloping him.

Nothing but athletics has succeeded in doing this sort of work in England. Religion has failed, intellect has failed, art has failed, science has failed. It is clear why: because each of these has laid emphasis on man's _selfish_ side; the saving of _his own_ soul, the cultivation of _his own_ mind, the pleasing of _his own_ senses. But your sportsman joins the Colours because in his games he has felt the real spirit of unselfishness, and has become accustomed to give up all for a body to whose service he is sworn. Besides this, he has acquired the physical fitness necessary for a campaign. These facts explain the grand part played by sport in this War; they also explain why the amateur has done so enormously better than the professional.

"Let us therefore," is his injunction, "take off our hats to the amateur athlete, who is one of the brightest figures in England to-day. Let us indeed not forget that it is not in any sense only the athletes who have gone, but let us remember that in proportion no cla.s.s of men has seen its duty so clearly, and done it so promptly, in the present crisis. We suggest that this War has shown the training of the playing-fields of the Public Schools and the 'Varsities to be quite as good as that of the cla.s.s-rooms; nay, as good? Why, far better, if training for the path of Duty is the ideal end of education."

Here, as always, Paul distinguished between the amateur athlete and the professional athlete. For the latter his scorn was unmitigated, and he could not endure a.s.sociation football with its paid players. He also loathed the betting element that defiled the Soccer game.

This letter was his last contribution to _The Alleynian_. Its strictures are far too sweeping; it has the dogmatism and the note of cert.i.tude to which youth is p.r.o.ne. But it is animated by a fine spirit. Very characteristic is the emphasis placed in it on the ideas of duty and unselfishness. The pa.s.sion for sacrifice was in his blood.

CHAPTER VII

TASTES AND HOBBIES

_Variety's the very spice of life._ COWPER: "THE TASK."

Many of our son's vacations were spent in Llanelly, South Wales, where his mother's and my own kindred dwell. Llanelly is not a beautiful town--industrial centres seldom are--but Paul loved every aspect of it--the busy works, the s.p.a.cious bay with its great stretches of sandy beach, the green and hilly hinterland, dotted with snug farmhouses and cheerful-looking cottages. Accompanied by his cousin Tom, for whom he had an intense affection, and under the guidance of his uncle, Mr. Edwin Morgan, a consulting engineer of high repute, he visited in process of time every industrial establishment in the neighbourhood--steel works, foundries, engineering shops and tinplate works. His insatiable curiosity, his desire to know the reason for everything, his alert interest in all the processes of manufacture, were noted with smiling admiration by managers and workmen. His last visit to Llanelly was in the summer of 1914. We joined him there in the third week of August. Clear in recollection is an incident that took place during our stay there.

One sunny afternoon we were out in Carmarthen Bay in a little tug-boat and hailed a large four-masted vessel that had dropped anchor and was awaiting a pilot. She had just arrived from Archangel with timber. Her crew, athirst for news about the War, were most grateful for a bundle of newspapers. Paul thrilled at this meeting at sea with a vessel that had come direct from Russia, and he followed with fascinated interest the conversation between the tugboatmen and the crew of the barque. Little did any of us think then that the War was destined to claim Paul's life!

Celtic on his mother's side and mine, he was proud of the fact that he sprang from an "old and haughty nation, proud in arms." On many of his school books he wrote in bold lettering: "Cymru am byth!" ("Wales for ever!") His instinctive love of Wales was strengthened by his visits to Llanelly and by holidays on the Welsh countryside, where, amid romantic surroundings and far from the fret and fever of modern life, he obtained an insight into rural ways and things. Welsh love of music and Welsh prowess in football also appealed powerfully to him.

Like most boys he went through the usual run of hobbies: silkworms, carpentry, stamp-collecting, photography, parlour railways.

Thoroughness was his quality even in his hobbies. He had the note-taking habit in marked degree. Even as a small boy on a long railway journey he would carefully record in his notebook the name of every station through which the train pa.s.sed, and then, on reaching his destination, would work out the distances by maps and books, and finally draw an outline showing the route with the princ.i.p.al stations and junctions marked. The same pa.s.sion for cla.s.sifying facts made him, as soon as he began to follow cricket closely, compile tables showing the batting and bowling averages of the leading players. Similarly with football. He was familiar with the record of the leading Rugby clubs and the characteristics of the princ.i.p.al players.

Machinery had for him the fascination of life in motion. He would gaze with rapture at the rhythmic movement of a flywheel and was thrilled by the harmonious movement of cogs and eccentrics, pistons and connecting-rods, all "singing like the morning stars for joy that they are made." As a child visiting a printing office he used to clap his hands with delight at the sight of "the wheels all turning." For engines of all sorts he had a pa.s.sion. At Plymouth he loved to watch the great G.W.R. locomotives steaming into Millbay terminus, and would often engage the driver or stoker in conversation. After our removal to London he spent part of one vacation in an engineering shop. When he was fifteen we bought for him a small gas-engine which was fixed in an upper room. Clad in overalls he spent many a happy hour with this engine, generating electricity which he used sometimes for lighting, sometimes for driving the engine and train on his miniature railway.

Here are extracts from one of his vacation diaries: