B-P, Lessons from the Varsity of Life. Chapter II: Art: Acting

Baden-Powell in "The Geisha"
B-P is on the left.

Chapter II
Art: Acting

At Charterhouse — Educational Value of Play-acting — Some Acting Experiences — An Experiment in Caste — Gagging — Ragging — The Simla Hoax — Spying — Happifying Others — Those Actors — Drawing — Sculpture — Captain John Smith — School Music — Instrumental — Melba's Drummer — Dancing in Art Has Its Uses

AT CHARTERHOUSE

I AM convinced that the play-acting which was encouraged among us boys by that broad-minded and far-seeing Headmaster, Dr. Haig-Brown, was of great value to us in after-life.

EDUCATIONAL VALUE OF PLAY-ACTING

It was not necessarily with a view to out going on the stage, however, that the Headmaster encouraged us to act but rather as a useful bit of general education.

For instance, it brought us boys to appreciate for the first time something of the values and beauties of poetic expression. It taught us to memorise speeches, to express ourselves without self-conscious awkwardness before an audience, to articulate clearly, to use apt phrases, so to modulate voice and gesture as to grip and hold our hearers ; moreover it taught us that valuable asset of being able to gauge their responsiveness ; all in fact that was helpful later on in public speaking.


"To articulate clearly."	"To modulate voice and gesture."	"To grip our hearts."

SOME ACTING EXPERIENCES

On looking back I see that the late Lord Grenfell, who was then Brigade Major at Shorncliffe, forced me to give a series of lectures to the garrison, which included the following amongst its subjects :

" On Ancient Roman Barrel Organs."

" On Steam Engines of all sorts."

" On dead horses and the like."

So I evidently was expected to have a varied range of knowledge.

An old programme reminds me that I played Captain O'Scuttle in Poor Pillicoddy. This was a play got up by the Carr Glyn family at Hanford near Blandford, which was then occupied by Lord Wolverton (Master of that glorious pack of hounds that used to hunt in the Blackmore Vale).

Cox and Box, the immortal operetta by Gilbert and Sullivan, is once which I believe I have played in on twenty-six different occasions, the most notable of which was in the Castle at Cape Town.

Here is the sketch of the programme printed for the occasion which shows the Printer indoors while the Hatter is without and Sergeant Bouncer maintaining the balance between the two. The background shows the old gateway of the castle.

Sketch for programme of performance of
"Cox and Box" at the Castle, Cape Town.

When present-day maidens look down on their Victorian predecessors with ridicule they are led to somewhat imaginary ideas regarding their prudishness.

I could, if I would, but I won't, tell them some things about those Victorian girls that would make them sit up, and rather modify their views!

But if they think they are the first to shingle their hair and smoke cigarettes so bravely I can assure them that so long ago as 1876 a lady came to take part in some theatricals at Charterhouse and she wore her hair short, and she smoked -not puny cigarettes but big honest cigars. She stayed in Girdlestone's house; and when a boy came bursting into the study with a message for the master and saw this apparition of modem womanhood, he blurted out: "I beg pardon, Sir-I mean Ma'am-Sir-Ma'am-I mean," and he bolted out again without saying what he did mean, to spread the news that there was a " thermanddote " in the house.

Whether it was for the pleasure of showing off I cannot now say but I certainly enjoyed acting for its own sake, and its pursuit led me to many new and interesting experiences.

At one time I got attached to a travelling company composed partly of amateurs, partly professionals, under the direction of Sir Charles Young the playwright, with Lady Monkton as leading lady. An experience of " Good Companions " in real life.

Here one got an appreciation of what a hard life is that of the professional actor. Our rehearsals were severe and strict, and one soon realised why so many amateurs, good for one or two performances, fail as professionals when it comes to keeping up the spirit of their part night after night, week after week, for months on end.

AN EXPERIMENT IN CASTE

On another occasion I was to play Sam Gerridge, the plumber, in Caste It was notable in one way, seeing that the performers were all playing the parts which they actually performed in real life, with the exception of Major Lacey who performed as the drunken old "Eccles" and myself as the plumber.

Rosina Vokes took the part of Polly Eccles the ballet dancer,. and the two cavalry officers were actually cavalry officers in life. Lacey promised that he would do his best to qualify himself for the part by a steady course of alcohol, and the only thing left for me to do was to go and learn to be a plumber.

I put myself into the hands of Mr. Greenburg, the working-man's tailor of Chelsea, who rigged me out in a part-worn work-a-day suit and also a Sunday best. Mr. Greenburg's printed prospectus, which I still possess, gave one an idea of the quality of his goods when it said:

" SAUCY CUT TOGS. Pay a visit to C. Greenburg,

White Lion Street, Chelsea, for flash toggery.

The above champion builder begs to put his customers awake to the fact that he has dabbed his fins on a Nobby Swag of Stuff for his Ready Brass.

He can supply a pair of Ikey cords, cut slap up

with the Artful Dodge and Fakement down the sides, from ten bob. Fancy sleeve vests, cut very saucy, fit tight round the scrag or made to flash the Dickey, from nine bob."

I completed my make-up by growing a tuft beard on my chin and by putting my left hand through a course of abstinence from soap and water. My right hand I bound up and hung in a sling. This was done partly to account for my being out of work, and also to be an excuse for not joining in the fights where etiquette demanded that one should support one's pal.

A few days later found me studying my models in the workshops and bars of the neighbourhood of the Commercial Road.

One fine morning I joined the crowd outside the gates of Buckingham Palace, to watch the arrival of the stream of rank and fashion attending a royal function.

Close to me in the crowd were two well-dressed, nice looking, respectable girls.

just as they were in the midst of mutual admiration of one of the dresses they had seen, a dirty half-drunken bully lurched into them to get a good place for seeing the show, elbowing one of them into the gutter with a: " Nar then, 'Ria, outside."

In another minute, though I had not meant to trip him, he was on his back in the roadway. He picked himself up quickly and, getting to a safe distance, began to use pretty language and looked about for a stone with which to emphasise it.

But before he could do anything effective the police were on to him and, playing with him again the old game of "No child of mine " they passed him away out of sight.

Meantime the girls were thanking me as if I had saved their lives, and hoped that my bandaged arm had not suffered on their account.

The ice thus broken we were soon on friendly terms and I was able to tell them who was who among the great ones arriving.

As we were dispersing after the show, and had said good-bye I had scarcely gone a dozen paces when they came running after me, accompanied by a nice looking young fellow. He was introduced to me as Jim Bates, a carpenter, and the future husband of Kate, and I was openly lauded to him as a hero.

About Jim Bates there were no half measures and I was marched off willy-nilly to have tea with them at his mother's house in a little back street in Westminster, and from that hour I became firm friends with the family. I became Jim's constant companion at his work, and in his amusements and came really to like him as an ideal English working man.

Under his able and unsuspecting instruction I soon picked up the desired knowledge of the manners and customs of his kind and through a method far pleasanter than I had ever anticipated.

In the family I was known as Charlie, and was free to come and go as I pleased.

When the play came off my visits to Jim naturally ceased and I saw nothing of him till some years later.

It was at the jubilee Review at Aldershot when galloping along on some Staff duty in my Hussar uniform that I almost ran over a hot-looking father carrying his child and helping his wife along.

" Hullo, Jim I How are you, Mrs. Bates ? You don't remember me-Charlie. Here, show this card at the gate of the enclosure there and they will give you a better view of the show. Good-bye."

And that was the last I saw of Jim Bates. But I always have a feeling of gratitude to him for having unwittingly helped me in playing the part of Sam Gerridge.

GAGGING

I was once called upon by a professional touring company to take the part of the sentry in Iolanthe, in the place of a member of the caste who had been taken ill.

Time did not admit of a rehearsal, but the part of Private Willis, the sentry, is a particularly easy one since he merely has to sing his one song and to do sentry-go without entering into conversation with the other characters.

I had finished my song and had given my cue for the entrance of the leading lady when, as I neared the prompt side in the course of my march, the prompter whispered:

She is not ready. Gag for a few minutes."

And I gagged. After looking cautiously round to make sure that no officer was in the neighbourhood I put down my rifle and taking things easy I gave in a soliloquy my opinion of " sentry-go " from the private soldier's point of view, generally alluding to various methods by which a cunning soldier could evade his sentry-go dudes in comparative comfort without detection.

With an audience of soldiers (which indeed included H.R.H. The Duke of Connaught) my remarks went down all right; indeed so satisfactory were they considered that the Manager insisted on my taking the part again the following night and repeating in full the lecture on " sentry-go."

In an ordinary way it would have been difficult for me on the spur of the moment to give an oration without some preliminary thought on the subject, but I have over and over again found that when one's whole attention is concentrated on the matter in hand, as it is when one is on the Stage, apt ideas spring to the mind in a surprising way.

Gagging, though generally considered a vice, is in one way at any rate a virtue. It does undoubtedly develop a useful quality in public speaking, more especially if you are an M.P. and have to address hecklers.

I may be telling you a chestnut but the yarn is none the less worth relating as an instance of ready gag.

When in the midst of a political address the late Sir George Reid, the High Commissioner for Australia, was interrupted by a man in the audience crying: " You're a double faced villain."

He looked at his heckler for a tenth of a second and said:

"Well, that is more than you are or you would have left the one you are wearing at home."

RAGGING

I had just landed in Malta on my return there from a visit to Sicily. While in that island I had bought, as a curio, one of those high brass saddles with which the natives decorate their horses and mules.

It was ornamented with a row of brass knobs upon a kind of spike in front, which terminated with a couple of brass flags at the top. On the sides were also rather larger and more conspicuous knobs.

A friend, seeing me arrive with this strange implement, asked : " Is that a musical instrument ? "

"What else do you suppose it is ? " I replied.

Then he begged me, with all the earnestness at his command, to play it at a concert the following week.

I did so.

I arranged with the orchestra to play a high-class Nocturne in which I should take the solo part with my " Selluraphone." Meantime I fitted the instrument with a strap so that it could hang round my neck in front of my chest and I attached a paper-covered comb opposite my mouth, and at the performance I " sang " through this comb in a high falsetto, tuning the instrument by means of its flags, playing the notes on the knobs up and down the front, and giving the loud and soft effect by tinkering with the larger knobs at the side.

The Selluraphone,
a new musical
instrument.

Not a soul guessed that it was not a real musical instrument.

I am afraid to say how many were the incidents of this kind that have enlivened my past, but the outstanding one and the one which brought me special joy, was that which occurred at Simla.

THE SIMLA HOAX

Captain Quentin Agnew, A.D.C. to the Commander-in-Chief, Sir George White, was a man who ought to have known better, but he drew me on.

We had taken a box at theatre for a party of our friends and had ordered a supper at the Club to wind up with. While we were dressing for the evening he conceived the idea that we should disguise ourselves and go among our friends as strangers. No sooner said than done.

He made himself up and adopted the role of an English newspaper correspondent, while I, as an Italian Count, acted as representative of the Italian paper, The Roma. We had just arrived from Europe en route to the war, then impending, on the Afghan frontier.

We got another A.D.C. of the Commander-in-Chief to accompany us to theatre and to introduce us to out friends who had already arrived in the box. He explained that we strangers had come with letters of introduction to the Commander-in-Chief, and that Captain Agnew and myself were at present detained dining with the Chief. Would our kind friends therefore entertain these two strangers in our absence ?

We had naturally expected to be discovered before many minutes were over, but by some wonderful luck our friends appeared to entertain no suspicion whatever, and so successful was our venture that at the end of the first act we got ourselves taken round and introduced to other friends in theatre.

In no case was any suspicion aroused about our identity in fact quite the opposite. People gave away confidences to these apparent strangers which, among their own friends, they would never have uttered.

Finding at the end of the evening that we were still undiscovered it occurred to us to go on to our own supper party as guests instead of hosts.

I sent a hurried note to a young officer in my Regiment who was there on leave and asked him to go to the Club and act as host on my behalf and to receive our guests, as I had been detained at the Commander-in-Chief's dinner party.

In a P.S. I added that among the guests were two War correspondents who were strangers to the place and who were to receive special attention, one of them being an Italian Count.

When we arrived at the Club there was my faithful subaltern waiting to receive us but, when in default of any Italian he started to talk to me in most indifferent French, I nearly broke down with laughter.

As it was, though I held my facial muscles under control, the tears welled out of my eyes, and he anxiously asked : "est-ce-que vous ites malade aux yeux ? " to which I replied in broken accents I am a leetle sick in ze eyes."

This phrase became a memorable one in Simla for months afterwards. When anybody asked another : " How do you do ? " the invariable reply was I am a leetle bit sick in ze eyes."

It was towards the end of supper that the denouement occurred. Out of the tail of my eye I saw one of the guests pass behind Agnew and, recognising his back view, go to speak to him. To her surprise she found herself confronted by a bearded man with a Cockney accent.

She went away and whispered her suspicions to a friend. I realised that something desperate had to be done. Accordingly I showed signs of having had more wine than was good for me, which caused the ladies in my neighbourbood to feel that the time had come to withdraw; and as I got up insistent on following them I was promptly tripped up and thrown down by the nearest man.

But I struggled on, following the hurrying ladies into the next room, till they appeared to be really alarmed, when I pulled off my wig and showed them that it was all right.

All right for them, but not for me, for I was promptly pounced upon and rolled up in the carpet and sat upon.

The next day I was calling, on duty, on the Adjutant-General, and the first question he put to me was : " Are you the Officer Commanding the 5th Dragoon Guards ? " in a very severe tone of voice. I thought I detected the suspicion of a twinkle in his eye, so I boldly said: " No, Sir, not here. My Regiment is at Meerut."

He then laughed and said: " Why didn't you come and draw my party in my box at theatre last night ? "

And I replied with becoming meekness: " Sir, I draw the line at Adjutant-Gcnerals."

To this I attribute the fact that I got into his good books and was shortly afterwards ordered on active service.

Practical joking, ragging, pulling the leg, or whatever you like to call it, is all very well, but, like caricaturing, though it amuses the artist and the onlookers, it often hurts the subject.

Provided that precautions are taken to ensure against this, playing the ass is a very healthy outlet for youthful spirit. The difficulty is that too often the youthful spirit hasn't the sense to see where to draw the line, gets excited and carries tomfoolery to excess till it becomes rowdyism and a nuisance.

Impersonation has its value; it can in a way be educativefor certain lines of life. The ability to disguise yourself to give the impression that you are someone other than yourself, and to carry it through successfully is a gift that can be of infinite value for " intelligence " purposes.

But this requires a good deal of self-assurance and confidence to carry it to a successful issue when your life depends upon it, so that considerable practice in ragging is desirable as a preliminary. (How senior officers will bless me for giving this suggestion to their subalterns!)

SPYING

It fell to my lot after a time to do intelligence work in foreign countries and here my experience, such as it was, in acting, making-up, and taking people in was a big help. In my book, The Adventures of a Spy, I have detailed some incidents of this work, many of which depended for success entirely on one's playing a part in one's dress, mannerisms, and so on.

Of course, one had to vary one's character according to local conditions, but generally the best paying attitude to take up was that of excessive stupidity. It was at times almost painful to have to repress the exultant laughter that was squirming inside one, and not to show even a sparkle of the eye, when, say, a Ruritanian officer was trying to get you to understand the secret strategical schemes which you had come to find out; the more you were dense the more insistent he became in trying to get you to understand the details.

The slightest eagerness to learn would have put him on the qui vive, while, on the other hand, a too absolute lack of interest might make him give you up in despair. A delicate line between the two was only to be got by careful playacting and finesse. It was very delicious.

HAPPIFYING OTHERS

There is yet another joy that comes of play-acting, and one to which my colonel, Sir Baker Russell, introduced me; it is the fun of giving amusement to others. And that's as good a sport as any in life, especially at times when cholera or typhoid is rife and fear of death is among the men.

A great success was the place known as " The Poultice in Malta. When I was on the Staff there I was interested in providing some place of recreation for soldiers outside their barracks, and I aimed at making it as unlike barracks as possible.

We took over a disused hospital in the town and transformed it into a really fine big Club, with its theatre, danceroom, billiards, reading and writing-rooms, gymnasium, refreshment and hot supper-room (where wines, beer and spirits were allowed), bathrooms, and about forty bedrooms.

An attached building was made into a club for rest and refreshment for the women and children of the garrison.

The institution paid hand over fist from the very start, not only financially but in the moral sense as well. It was managed entirely by the men themselves, with stewards appointed from among them daily to be responsible for good order.

Protests, however, were raised against it, partly by the public house proprietors, which we accepted as a valuable tribute, but partly, also, by some of the chaplains. So I met these latter in conclave to hear their criticisms.

Their main contention was that the Club was situated in the worst part of the town, down among the drink-shops and houses of a worse description.

All innocently I asked: "Well. If you have a bad place where would you put the poultice ? "

There was a moment's pause, they saw the point, and the cloud was dispelled with laughter, and thereafter they heartily backed the scheme.

But the name stuck; and my beautiful Club became universally known as " The Poultice."

THOSE ACTORS

Being a schoolfellow of so many actors I formed many warm and lasting friendships in their charming circle.

Amongst other things I was best man to Cyril Maude a few years ago, which was nice of me, seeing that in his delightful autobiography he had made this accusation against me-namely, that when I was up for a Divinity Examination I was asked: " What did Elisha say when he saw Elijah go up in a chariot of fire?" I replied:

You never saw anything like that before, did you ? "

I still suspect that he did say something of the sort but my answer was not adjudged correct by the examiner.

I was asked to lunch at Sir Squire Bancroft's one day and just as I arrived at his door I found a lady whom I knew ringing the bell.

So I asked what she was doing there. She was " going to lunch with the Bancrofts."

" Oh, do take me in and introduce me," I begged.

" I am afraid I couldn't. You see I am just going to lunch with them."

But I would take no denial, and as the door opened I went in with her.

She protested, but I persisted. As she went up the stairs I followed, in spite of her imploring me to go away.

She entered the drawing-room in a fury, with myself still in close attendance.

But she could not help bursting into laughter with relief at finding that, after all, I was an invited fellow guest.

At one of Beerbohm Tree's jolly supper parties he put me next to Nat Goodwin, the American actor, saying

You will find him an amusing card."

But Nat for a time remained very silent and I thought him rather dull. Suddenly he turned to me and said.

Have you ever seen a balloon ascension ?

" Well-yes."

" Ah, but have you been to one when you were suffering from a stiff neck ? "

" No, I haven't done that."

" Well, I have." And he proceeded to give us a most delightful representation of how he saw the whole thing through other people's eyes, not being able to raise his head, and having to judge people's characters by their boots before asking them questions as to the progress of the balloon.

On that occasion Weedon Grossmith gave us a soulstirring recitation about Yeomen called to the War.

It at once stirred us to patriotic fervour It led us into battle; it moved us deeply with pathos; and finally wound us up in a burst of loyal enthusiasm-but without the expression of one single coherent word throughout.

No-I don't mean that Weedon had exceeded the limit of wise potation; not at all; he merely imitated a reciter mouthing his words to the extent of super-articulation.

The late Sir Herbert Tree once told me how he had found one of his daughters, on her twelfth birthday, dressed in boys' clothes. When called on to explain matters she said: " I have been reading history and I have taken three characters of each sex to study. I find that the women are bad while the men are splendid, so from to-day I am going to be a girl no longer. I'll be a man."

Her father gently asked if he might be informed what men in particular had led her to this nonsensical conclusion.

She instancedd Richard Coeur de Lion with all his chivalry; and then, after reciting the virtues of Saul, she added:

And then there's you, Father."

That was enough. He was conquered.

" But where did you get the boys' clothes from ?

" Oh, I bought those for eighteen pence from Johnny Smiles next door. He has just (rot scarlet fever and doesn't want them now that he's in bed."

DRAWING

I suppose a most common desire in every human being is the wish to express oneself through an art of some sort, whether by writing, poetry, music or acting, drawing or sculpture.

Personally I have got lots of amusement, for myself at any rate, through elementary dabbling in most of them.

I like trying to draw. With me drawing a picture is quite an exciting adventure, for I never know how it is going to turn out.

I never learned to draw at school because it was an "extra" and could not be afforded, but I tried to teach myself by studying and copying pictures by artists and noting how they got their effects. I have even picked up ideas from cave drawings of primitive bushmen : if these were crude and untutored at any rate they conveyed the idea of life and action to a remarkable degree.

Primitive drawings which convey
the idea of life and action.

During most of my life I made a point of writing home weekly wherever I. might be, and I knew that my letters were the more welcome when illustrated with sketches , so when I was travelling I often made them up in the form of

an illustrated diary in sketch books. Thus I have now a goodly collection of these which form for me a useful record and a reminder of good times in the past.

I should probably do much better if I took a course of drawing lessons, but it is always difficult to find time.

I have, however, had some of the best practical instruction since the London Sketch Club elected me as an honorary member.

This was many years ago and they presently allowed me to become a working member. So, when I attended their Friday evening sessions, I got the kindest help and criticism from them, and also the inestimable privilege of watching them at work and noting their methods.

They included among their members John Hagman, Dudley Hardy, Lawson Wood, Heath Robinson, Harry Rowntree, Starr Wood, Rene Bull, F. Shepherd, and many others.

What a clever, brilliant, and jovial crew they were-and are, bless 'em.

My sketching such as it is, besides giving me a scrapbook record of my travels, and bringing me in money, has taught me to recognise beauties in nature which would otherwise have escaped me.

Soon after my first arrival in India the Graphic offered remuneration for sketches of interest from the front, so I tried my hand at it, and to my surprise and satisfaction 1 got a cheque for six guineas for the first attempt.

So I didn't delay to send in more, and this was the beginning of a long and happy connection with that journal. It brought me into personal touch and friendship with Mr. Carmichael Thomas, then proprietor and Editor. Also it brought me into touch with a very useful addition to my slender income as a subaltern, and eventually enabled me to take my share in polo and pig-sticking, which would otherwise have been impossible.

SIR HARRY JOHNSTON

Another contributor to the paper at this time Was Sir Harry Johnston, of whose drawing Mr. Thomas had the very highest opinion. Sir Harry was an " Admirable Crichton " since in addition to his qualities as an explorer and administrator he was noted for his smartness in dress, for his searches into religion, for his abilities as a naturalist, and for his talent as a realistic artist.

His pictures were remarkable not only for their colour and good drawing but for their extraordinary accuracy in detail. One of his notable works was of a Masai warrior killed in action. To obtain the true effect he caused a Masai to lie as if dead on the floor of his studio, and a gallon of sheep's blood was employed to add to the realism of the picture.

While occupied in putting this on canvas, a deputation of chiefs was announced and, without ado, ushered into the studio. The ghastly scene that presented itself was too .much for them, and they fled in all directions spreading the news that when the little Big Chief wanted to draw a dead man he promptly killed one.

Another value that I get out of drawing is that pictures of all sorts interest me and give me more pleasure than they would otherwise have done, and I am able the better to appreciate the inspiration and message they convey.

Sketching has the further advantage, in these days of ever-increasing hurry, noise, and materialism, of taking one away out from the roar and bustle of the busy haunts of men to the quiet atmosphere of nature, and steeping one in the beauties and wonders that God has set out for our enjoyment.

SCULPTURE

I have even tried my hand at sculpture.

When I was stationed in Malta many years ago a sculptorcame there from Italy to carve a memorial for the Cathedral, and he allowed me to come and watch him at his work.

One day I arrived in the studio while he was out and to pass the time I took up a lump of clay and fashioned it into the head and shoulders of a sailor smoking a pipe.

This I stuck up on the wall for the amusement of his two or three apprentices.

When he came in and noticed this work of art he asked who had made it and thereupon told me to come next day and start modelling from life.

He secured for me a live model in the shape of a pathetic old half-blind negro from Nubia. With his pronounced features the subject was not a difficult one and by a fluke my bust of him turned out a success, so much so that when exhibited later at an Art show it received very favourable notice from the critics.

CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH

This fairly fired me with enthusiasm, and afterwards, when I was back in England, I started on a more ambitious theme, namely a bust of my hero, Captain John Smith of Virginia.

I could not afford a model to work from, nor could I get time for it in the daytime. I therefore went at it at bedtime.

By using a three-leaved folding shaving glass I was able to use my own head, ears, and back of neck for the purpose. His features I modelled from imagination, indicating as much, as I could of his very varied and striking character.

John Smith was a soldier of some renown, and a navigator of great experience, also a geographer and explorer and colonial governor.

He fought with notable gallantry in Sigismund's army against the Turks, where, having defeated three of their champions in single combat, he was awarded, for his coat of arms, three Turks' heads " decapitated."

Later he was sent in command of an expedition of three ships to explore the coast of America, but as he found these ships totally inadequate for the purpose he adopted a quite simple expedient, sailed over to France and there fought and captured three bigger ones.

He then took a party of colonists over to Virginia and established them in a settlement on the James River. He went out to do a bit of reconnaissance on his own, coupled with a little duck-shooting, accompanied by a Red Indian as his guide, and as a precaution against desertion bound him to himself with his garter.

They were attacked by hostile Indians, and in their effort to get away the guide fell into a swamp, dragging John Smith after him. He was captured and taken before the Chief, Powhattan, and was only saved from being put to death through the intercession of the Chief's daughter, Pocahontas.

Later they became great friends. Pocahontas was converted to Christianity and married Rolfe, of an old Norfolk family and Smith's lieutenant.

Smith was badly wounded by an explosion and came home to England, to linger some years, eventually dying of his injury.

But to the very end he was the cheeriest of mortals and when dictating his biography he laughed so much at some of his misfortunes that his secretary confessed to having taken them down rather vaguely.

So his was an interesting head to model and luckily came out so satisfactorily that I had it cast in bronze.

Shortly after I was invited to send some of my work to an exhibition of works of art by officers of the Navy and Army, so I sent along old John Smith.

The manager of the gallery, instead of setting it up there, thought there was some good in it and sent it round to the Royal Academy, which was receiving sculpture that day, and to my amazement my bust was accepted.

Another bombshell in my life!

A sketch of the bust of
Captain John Smith.

There was no holding me after that; but as soldiering duties happened to come on heavily just then I was not able to do more.

Also I reflected that it was well not to tempt Fortune too far and that it was wiser to rest on my laurels. This I did and, barring one or two small statuettes, I have so rested ever since.

But what has this to do with Scouting?

Why this-you will find, once you have taken to modelling heads, that you look at every person you meet from a new angle. You will be noticing the set of his head, the form of his features and their expression, to an extent that you never did before.

You just can't help it. Your fingers itch to be modelling that nose or that brow with a lump of clay.

From such practice you will get to remember people when you have once seen them, and this, for a detective at any rate or for a Scout, is a very valuable accomplishment.

When you can model a face or figure from memory you are able to make the best caricatures. In that delightful hour between tea and dinner after a day's hunting many are the statuette caricatures I have made of characters, men and horses, seen in the field that day.

DANCING

I am, too, a great believer in dancing and I always believe that the practice which I went through in learning to dance was largely responsible for the comparative ease with which later on I out-distanced my pursuers when hunted over the rocks by the Matabele warriors in the Matopo Hills of Rhodesia.

It had given me balance and command over my feet and legs so that I was able to skip with surety from one boulder to another, while the Matabele, who were plainsmen and unaccustomed to that kind of country, clambered and stumbled laboriously behind me.

So even dancing came in as a useful preparation for Scouting.

SCHOOL MUSIC: INSTRUMENTAL

When at Charterhouse I had joined the Cadet Corps as a bugler, and I played the flugel horn in the band as well as violin in the orchestra.

We had in the orchestra a very good system by which each boy took his turn at conducting.

Two useful results emerged from this upbringing after I joined my regiment. Having this acquaintance with band music I was eventually made Band President, and without a doubt I must have been a considerable nuisance to the Bandmaster in consequence.

Still, when be was away on leave, I was able to take his place and conduct our regimental orchestra.

Also, being accustomed to sound the bugle, I was able to blow my own trumpet (perhaps you will think I am doing so fairly fully in these pages), and thereby to give out my commands instanter without the usual delay involved in telling a trumpeter what to sound.

So my elementary efforts at music vocal and instrumental at school had their uses for me afterwards in my career.

HOME SWEET HOME

John Hullah was our choirmaster at Charterhouse. The first day I 'was there he discovered I had-Eke himself-a falsetto voice.

Talking of John Hullah and his singing, another well-known musician, Paolo Tosti, used to come to our home frequently and it was a joy to hear him sing his " Goodbye " though his voice, as I remember it, was not up to the standard of the feeling he put into the singing.

I suppose I was among the last who heard Adeline Patti in her incomparable rendering of "Home, Sweet Home." It was after a private dinner in her house, long after she had retired from public singing, that we persuaded her to sing. Her voice perhaps was gone so far as concert singing was concerned, but, subdued as it was, in her own drawingroom it -seemed perfcct, and she held us spellbound to an uncanny degree. We were all very silent after she had ceased.

And how few people remember the author of that song. I have seen his grave more than once. It lies in a little crowded cemetery in a back street in Tunis, where he, Payne, was a clerk in the American Consulate.

He died in obscurity, but his song has lived.

Rhythm rules something more than the world; it rules the universe, but in this age of noise and speed it was in danger of being drowned out on this earth till jazz came along and enforced it with a drum. So even in jazz there is a bit of good somewhere-if you can only find it.

MELBA's DRUMMER

Talking of drums, I lunched one day with Melba in her delightful Australian home and among other interesting experiences I inspected her troop of Boy Scouts. Among these was one who, I was told, played the drum like an angel. I had hitherto imagined that harps were more the vogue with angels. But when this boy started playing I realised for the first time that there was something more than a mere time-thumping, more than rhythm, that there was actually music in a well-played side-drum.

DABBLING IN ART HAS ITS USES

I am afraid that you will guess from the foregoing that though I dabbled in the arts my dabbling was not of a very high order. You will be correct!

You will class me rather as a mountebank for advocating as I have done the role of comic singer or actor or dancer. You will be inclined to say: "Have YOU NO sense of dignity ? " and all that soft of thing.

But I am unrepentant, and I have a good authority to back me in Horace Walpole who said: "A careless song with a little nonsense in it, now and then, does not misbecome even a monarch."

So there!

You will forgive me for I am making full and open confession to you of my tastes, whether good or bad, and of my upbringing; as these were the preparation for the career I ultimately went through in Soldiering, in Scouting, and in enjoying the happiness of life.

As I have said before, happiness is not solely the outcome of enjoyment of the good things in life and of the beauties and wonders of Nature, but it comes very largely also from the practice of happifying.

A great deal of what may appear to you to have been frivolous dabbling in the arts on my part was really not without its uses in giving amusement to others-and sometimes when they were badly in need of it.

	Lessons from the Varsity of Life Chapter I: My Education
	Lessons from the Varsity of Life Chapter III: Sport
	Lessons from the Varsity of Life Contents and Introduction

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