Life of Frederick Courtenay Selous, D.S.O Part 24

CHAPTER XV CHARACTER, APPEARANCE, ETC.--SOME STORIES OF HIM

Perhaps Selous' chief success as a hunter lay in his untiring energy and fearless intention to gain some desired object. He brought the same force into play in pursuit of a bull elephant as of a small b.u.t.terfly, and allowed nothing to stand in his way to achieve success. Time, distance, difficulty, or danger were all things that could be conquered by a man of strong will, and his bodily strength was such that even to the end he almost achieved the virility of perfect youth. He would come back from the early morning hunt, the best time of all for pursuing big game, and have some breakfast. Then, when others were tired and glad of some hours' sleep in the camp or waggon, he would call a native boy to carry his rifle and a few cartridges--in case of an unexpected meeting with some rare animal--take his b.u.t.terfly-net and collecting-box, to spend the hot hours of the day in search of Lepidoptera. Few men, even young men in the prime of life, are capable of pursuing insects under a tropical sun after the fatigue of the early morning hunt, but Selous not only did this almost to the day of his death, but also went out again in search of big game in the hours between three o'clock and sunset.

It was his untiring love of Nature and the possible capture of some victim new to science that always drove him on and banished fatigue. His whipcord frame responded readily to all the calls he made upon it, for from his youth he had inured himself to strain and privation, and was extremely moderate in any indulgence. He ate less than most men, and never drank anything but tea, which he enjoyed at every meal. Sometimes he drank champagne at big dinners, but rich wines and high feeding had no attractions for him.

He always rated himself as a very moderate shot, and doubtless, in the early days, when he was only armed with clumsy and indifferent weapons, his success was not always of a high order, but with the advent of rifles of greater precision he was certainly a good shot, and he killed a large proportion of the game he fired at. This was especially so when he got what he described as his first first-cla.s.s rifle, a 450 single shot, made by Gibbs, of Bristol, and with this he killed a large quant.i.ty of game. All of us who are big game hunters, however, know how greatly the average of hits has advanced since the introduction of the small-bore high-velocity rifles. In 1895 came the British 303, the German 275 Mauser, and the Roumanian 256 Mannlicher, and these weapons possess such accuracy and flatness of trajectory that a poor shot becomes a moderate one, a good shot a first-cla.s.s one, and a first-cla.s.s performer something remarkable. Since 1900 some firms, notably John Rigby, have utilized the best points of these smaller weapons to make them successful on the largest and most dangerous game in the hands of experienced men, and have invented weapons of tremendous. .h.i.tting power with magazine rapidity of fire.

London gunmakers were so anxious for Selous to use every new weapon they put on the market that he was bombarded with gifts of new weapons, in the hope that he would use them and advertise their wares. In many cases he did accept them, and between 1896 and 1915 he tried, on his numerous trips, perhaps a dozen different rifles. In this he admitted that he made a great mistake, for he would have done much better it he had adhered to one rifle for small game, such as the common 256 Mannlicher, and one large one, such as the 450 Rigby for heavy or dangerous animals. Many of these new rifles, though they nearly all shot well _when they worked_, developed glaring faults in magazine construction or defective bullets. What does well enough on the target at home is often quite a failure in the wear and tear of the African wilderness. A bullet that "mushrooms" nicely on the carcase of a horse may completely fail to stop a tough African antelope, and so on. Thus Selous lost his faith in specious promises, and often wished he had stuck to his old 450 single-shot Gibbs, which always gave good results on all medium-sized game, and even on the few occasions when he met elephants.

As an example of Selous' practical nature with regard to rifles, and the absolute necessity of testing them thoroughly before field-use, he told me one day the following story:--

At a leading London gunmaker's he had ordered a heavy high-velocity rifle, which he intended to use on large game in one of his more recent expeditions. As so often happens, the gunmaker in question delayed the delivery of the weapon till the very last moment, and one hour before he was to depart for Africa, Selous found himself in possession of a new weapon whose sighting and cartridges he had not tested. Now, to a man of his experience, such a thing as taking a rifle to Africa without first shooting it carefully was unheard of. The cartridges might not fit, or the sights might be set too high or too low. There was only one thing to be done, he must test the rifle somehow, even though located as he was in a house in Regent's Park. Calling the servant he asked her to get a cab and put all his kit therein and to place his hat and coat ready in the hall. When the maid announced that this had been done, he then opened his bedroom-window, and selecting a neighbouring chimney-stack, at about 100 yards distance, he fired five shots in quick succession.

The effect in the densely populated neighbourhood may be more easily imagined than described. Heads appeared at every window and knots of people began to a.s.semble in the streets below. What on earth was happening? Had someone suddenly gone mad? Was a murder being perpetrated, or had the Germans landed? Selous quickly got out his field-gla.s.ses, and noticed that the pattern on the brick chimney was distinctly good. He then carefully cleaned the rifle and put it in its case, donned his hat and coat, and opened the front door. Here was a.s.sembled a group of scared people, whilst a policeman was seen hastily crossing the road. Someone asked him as he entered the cab if he had heard the shots, and the old hunter replied that he had, and that the sounds seemed to have come from one of the rooms above. So Selous tried his rifle and went on his way rejoicing.

Speaking of him as a hunter, Sir Alfred Pease, himself one of our best performers in the field, writes:--

"It would be easier to write more fully of Selous, if he had occasionally 'broken out' and 'bucked' a bit--his very modesty and reserve and his care about what he said and his delightful simple-heartedness concerning his own achievements[85] were something difficult to cope with--much as they added to the charm and attractiveness of the man and fortified one's confidence in him. To me that he was absolutely true and the pure stuff was what made him stand out. Personally I never saw him do anything brilliant--I have seen many men shoot better, quicker, and so on, but no man who got so much or at any rate any more interest out of all that pertains to a hunter's and naturalist's life. He was a rather deliberate than quick observer, as far as I can judge, but when he had reached a conclusion you might lay your money he was right. I remember one day being rather inclined (being myself of an eager, quick, and perhaps impatient nature) to think him tiresome. He was with me at Kilanga (my B.E.A. farm), and said, 'Now I want to get a good Kongoni' (c.o.ke's Hartebeest)--we were standing where there were always hundreds, and often thousands, in sight. We regarded Kongoni like the flocks on a hundred mountains. The old bulls'

heads were much alike; in early days I had measured perhaps a dozen, and did not find that any one was much more interesting than another. I said I didn't know that I could help him, 'they were much of a muchness.' He asked me questions about measurements and weights and so on, most of which I could not answer. I told him there were plenty to choose from, and off he went and spent the whole of a hot day trying to find a 'specimen' worth having. He returned at night with a head and neck, and then the inquisition began again after measuring and remeasuring, and after a time (perhaps he was two hours messing about with his Kongoni head in the evening, after a tiring day, when I wanted him to come in and sit down) he came to the conclusion that there was not much difference between his head and the horns lying about of those we had shot for meat. He went to Juja (MacMillan's), and a few days after showed me two other heads he had got there, and no doubt had given the same exertion and examination to get, and with not much different result. It is well for science that there are such men, and some of my neighbours were amazed at this man, whose great reputation had reached them, and had expected to see him galloping after lions and shooting them from the saddle, etc., bothering himself over Kongoni heads, but I must say I admired immensely this persistence to get at a definite knowledge about a common beast."

It is a little difficult to gauge the shooting quality of a man by reading published works, because rifle-shooting at big game in various countries involves such various conditions. In Scotland, Norway, and the high grounds of Europe, Asia, and America, a good shot would probably kill ten beasts out of every fifteen or twenty cartridges expended, or even less. Many men do not take "all chances," moving or otherwise, whilst the best hunters do take all targets offered at a good head and at all ranges up to 350 yards, but in the plains and forests of Africa the average of shots fired is far higher, because the conditions are more difficult, and, broadly speaking, from three to six shots[86] are required in the course of a trip to every animal brought to bag. In Africa visibility, except in the early morning and late evening, is curtailed by refraction from the earth of the sun's rays, and animals are much shyer; on the plains and in the bush it is difficult to pick out the best head or to see it clearly. Often too, especially in bush, the shot is hurried, and has to be taken when the shooter is standing in a bad position. There is always too the nervous tension on the part of the hunter when pursuing dangerous game, a nervousness not necessarily fear, which makes him ever on the alert for danger or alarm caused by some other animal of the same herd. All these circ.u.mstances create other conditions unfavourable to good shooting, although they undoubtedly add to the charm of African sport. In earlier days too in South Africa (and more recently sometimes in East Africa) most of the game killed was shot after riding down the animal or quickly galloping after it and jumping off for the shot as soon as the beast came to a standstill and was not greatly alarmed. At this form of sport Selous was, when once well armed, a very skilful performer. His excellent horsemans.h.i.+p, fearless dash through "wait-a-bit" thorns, and keen eye enabled him almost invariably to run to a standstill almost any animal he had set out to chase, and though he admitted he frequently used many cartridges before he achieved success, I think he was a much better shot than he professed to be. In later years, when he hunted the beasts of the plain, forests, and mountains in Europe, Asia Minor, and North America, his expenditure of cartridges (if we read his books carefully) certainly proves him to have been a very good performer with the rifle.

After his marriage, in 1895, he spent much of his time in England and took "seriously" to the shot-gun. I say "seriously," because everything he did was adopted with the same whole-heartedness that he brought to other things. At first it must be admitted he was a very poor performer, and did not kill any except the ordinary rising bird; but, as time went on, he practised so a.s.siduously that he was soon able to kill a few driven grouse and partridges. After twenty years he became quite a good shot, certainly above the average, but was always depressed that he could not master the slowness which is ever the lot of a man who takes up the shot-gun after middle age. Such, however, was his persistence and determination to excel that on occasion he performed so well that his hosts thought he had been shooting with the smooth-bore all his life, and complimented him on his skill. I remember one day in particular at Tatton Park, Lord Egerton's beautiful seat in Ches.h.i.+re, when Selous really shot brilliantly and quite as well as any of the other guns, who were accounted first-cla.s.s shots. We killed over one thousand pheasants that day, and Selous took down the high birds with a speed and accuracy that I think even astonished himself. He was like a schoolboy in his joy that day at shooting so well, and as usual said it was a "fluke" and he could never do it again. Another day at Swythamley, where, at the invitation of our old friend, Sir Philip Brocklehurst, we drove the moor for grouse, Selous killed for the first time twenty birds at one stand.

He was in the seventh heaven of delight, nearly walked us off our legs, and told us "lion" stories till far into the night. We had many happy days at Swythamley between the years 1896-1914, and Selous was always at his best there under the rain of "chaff" and practical jokes of our host. Sir Philip's two sons, the present Sir Philip, who accompanied Shackleton to the Antarctic, and Courtenay, a captain in the 10th Hussars, and at present "flying" in East Africa, were boys after Selous'

own heart, and have since become keen and successful big game hunters, whose youthful imagination Selous did so much to fire. At Swythamley we were all a happy party with congenial tastes and full of fun, and I always look back on the many delightful days we spent there as some of the best of life.

He liked nearly all outdoor sports at different times. He played an energetic game of tennis and was a really good croquet-player. Most of all he loved cricket, and played regularly for his local club at Worplesdon, taking part in all their matches until 1915. When any great game was fought at Lord's, such as England v. Australia, he was generally there before the game began in the members' enclosure, and, much as he detested crowds, he with his wife would sit out the whole three days and watch every ball that went down. On such occasions he seldom spoke, but kept his eyes firmly fixed upon the players, noting the skill displayed on both sides. At Worplesdon he put such life into the local club that they were soon able to leave the rough common where former matches were played and take and keep in order an excellent cricket-field. I played in some of these matches, which were rather of the "Dingley-Dell" type, and it was always a treat to see Fred standing so close "in" at "point" that he looked as if he would catch the batsman before he hit the ball. "Big Game Hunters _v._ Worplesdon" was always a great and solemn occasion.

In his later years he was a most indefatigable cyclist, and thought nothing of riding over to see his friends thirty and forty miles away and back, even when he was over sixty years of age. When at home he never rode in a car if he could avoid it, as his policy was ever to keep fit by physical exercise.

The following is an example of his energy as a cyclist (September 5th, 1909):--

"I got home yesterday evening, having bicycled all the way from Gloucester--about 100 miles--in pouring rain most of the way, and over heavy, muddy roads, in just twelve hours, including stoppages for breakfast and lunch. I am not at all tired to-day, and next year, if I can get a fine day, I shall see if I cannot do 120 miles between daylight and dusk." Not bad for fifty-seven years of age.

With regard to the personal appearance and character of the man, his hard, gruelling life had left him straight and well-conditioned at the age of sixty. Few men interested others so much. He stood for all that was best in romance and high adventure. His life was of the hardest, for he loved to pit his strength against the forces of Nature. From childhood he only knew physical discipline as a virtue and battle as a self-enforced necessity. In appearance he was deep-chested, straight as an arrow, and with immensely powerful muscles on his arms and legs.

Latterly he was inclined to stoutness, but this was kept in check by constant exercise. If there was one striking feature in his physiognomy it was his wonderful eyes, as clear and blue as a summer sea. Nearly every one who came in contact with him noticed his eyes. They were the eyes of the man who looks into the beyond over vast s.p.a.ces.

Instinctively one saw in them the hunter and the man of wide views.

Their clarity of expression was so intense that any observer could see at a glance the whole nature of the mind that lay behind.

In social intercourse Selous had a presence that was apt to make other people look insignificant. He was adored by all his friends, and even perfect strangers seemed to come under his magnetism at the first introduction. It was not only the interesting things he had to tell, and the way he told them, but the kindness of heart and modesty that forced their way through any narrative, and which seemed to grow upon him with the years. Often was he the most sympathetic of listeners, but as a rule he was a great talker and an unrivalled story-teller. His memory was marvellous. Never halting for a word, his tales would flow on for hours without a check, and he was so skilful in the art of telling a tale that he seldom repeated stories with which he knew his audience were familiar. Well as I knew him for twenty years, I have rarely heard him repeat himself. Great as he was in this character, as powerful as any professional who holds his audience entranced in the court-yards of the Eastern cities, it was not a sense of vanity that inspired his volubility. It was always others who drew him on to talk, and he was so good-natured that he hated to leave his friends disappointed when he felt that stories were expected from him. Life was to him an endless adventure, and the freshness of his curiosity, the tireless spring of youth and romance, and the eagerness with which he attacked any subject, were such as to cause delight in the minds of all men who love to hear of high adventure and are yet debarred from playing their part. Nothing could quench his ardour when once his mind was set upon a thing. To hear him was to experience some fresh breeze blowing off the sh.o.r.es of youth.

He possessed charm in the highest degree because he always seemed to like best the people he was with. He led his audience along pleasant ways and knew the secret of raising others to the plane of his own intellectual level. Alternately he was romantic, brilliant, fiery, brave, or kind, and thus ran through the gamut of human emotions.

Yet with all his high enthusiasm he always displayed a curious diffidence as regards his own exploits--a modesty that perhaps endeared him best to those who loved him, for he was like all big men--a man who had no illusions. In all success he was ever alive to his own limitations, and none was more severe than he upon himself when he felt he had done some foolish thing or failed in some achievement from want of knowledge or skill. Few people knew how hardly he judged himself, or what anxieties he pa.s.sed through before attacking some new problem. But the mental drag was there nevertheless, and though he may have laughed at it afterwards, there was something curiously feminine and introspective in his dual nature.

In many of the letters written during his early life in Africa, there is a certain strain of melancholy which seemed to overwhelm him when he found that after all his efforts to "make good," the results had not been a financial success. But these times of sadness were for the most part only temporary, and soon gave way under the influence of fresh enterprise.

"It was curious," writes his sister, Mrs. A. Jones, "that for all my brother's splendid health, great and varied interests, and good spirits--though not of the wildly elated kind--there was a strain of sadness in his nature, and he had not the love of life that would have seemed so natural--though there seemed to be so much in his life to live for. I have often heard him say that he would not mind dying at all, or would as soon die as live, or some expression to that effect. He was very philanthropic, and accepted any reverse of fortune or disappointment with calmness and fort.i.tude. He suffered much, I think, through his views on the Boer War, but he was steadfast and true to his beliefs and principles always, and in this he showed a fine and n.o.ble spirit. This high sense of honour and integrity shone out like a bright star from a very feebly lit world in this respect. To me he was ever the most loving and tender brother, and his loss I shall ever lament."

All men and women have a real age which never leaves them from the cradle to the grave. Some are always twenty, and others drag through life with the soul of sixty. Fred Selous was one of those happy creatures who die young, for he never resigned his youthful ideals.

He had a great sympathy with emotional people. Good acting or the "French temperament" appealed to him. Though slow to anger as a rule, it was not rare to see him spring from his chair and jerk his head fiercely from side to side at any story of injustice. The Norman blood in his veins caused him to like the French and to appreciate their "bonhomie"

and excitability. With him too it was always near the surface--ready to sympathize, swift to resent--but over it all was the iron check of Scottish caution.

One night in Vienna, in 1910, Prince Henry Liechtenstein gave a little dinner party at "Sacher's." Slatin Pasha was there, and told us some interesting stories of his adventures as a captive of the Mahdi. Then came what I thought to be a somewhat garbled version of the Fashoda incident. Finally he made certain remarks, in very bad taste, of the leave-taking of Marchand with the French colony at the Cairo railway station. To him it was exceedingly "funny" that Marchand should burst into tears and kiss his friends. I got angry at this, and we had a somewhat heated pa.s.sage of words. "Why," he sneered in conclusion, "what had Marchand to complain of--he was only a miserable Captain before, and was now made a Colonel." Such a gross misunderstanding of a man's temperament and ideals and ambitions seemed deplorable indeed. It was quite German in its total failure to appreciate national psychology. In those two years of trial, privation and danger which Marchand had to face what must his thoughts have been. Twice on the road his expedition met with disaster from sickness, desertion and other causes. Yet he had re-formed it and marched successfully across unknown Africa from West to East with a handful of Senegalese sharpshooters, courting almost certain death at the end at the hands of the Mahdists. Only our expedition to Khartoum had saved him, by destroying the power of the Khalifa at the eleventh hour. What did such a man as he care for a trumpery military advancement? He was out to do his duty for France, and he did it where nine hundred and ninety-nine men out of a thousand would have failed. He achieved his end, but owing to our policy--for once strong--his Government failed him. Marchand was truly a great man. When I told this trifling incident to Selous he seemed to be thrown into a frenzy of rage, for I did not then know his views on Marchand. "Why," he shouted, "Marchand did the biggest thing any man has ever done in Africa, and of course no one knows it--I should like to kiss him myself!"

In speaking his voice possessed a singularly rich tone and resonance, and with all it carried a sympathetic quality that seemed to play directly on the heartstrings of his audience. Such gestures as he used were purely natural and necessary, and though possessing the volubility and excitable temperament of the southern races, the northern strain kept in check any excessive gesticulation. Although latterly his hearing was poor, he possessed a wonderful discrimination in shades of p.r.o.nunciation when making use of native or foreign languages. Ever alive to the picturesque or the romantic, he clothed his stories in the language of which the true story-teller has the key, whilst over all hung the indelible stamp of truth and accuracy that characterized the man himself. His thoughts ranged over a wide field of emotions and ideas, in which chivalry perhaps played the most important part. It was always present in all his thoughts and acts. This with the intense energy or "fury of play," backed by the vehemence of emotion, carried him far in the higher flights both of act and imagination. "It is easy to be an a.s.s and to follow the mult.i.tude like a blind besotted bull in a stampede," says Stevenson. Selous followed no leader but himself.

Success left him humble, and the sharp ferule of calamity only crushed him for the moment. As he hated conventionality, so he loathed respectability--"that deadliest gag and wet blanket that can be laid on men." It meant nothing to him but the crystallized demeanour of spineless invertebrates. Thus when he spoke either in public or private life, he spoke direct from his heart and experience, and Men recognized the Man. He had a few mannerisms, and all have that--but was never the victim of stereotyped phrase or trite quotation. He took infinite care in his composition, but seldom altered, once the written thought was on paper. Unlike most authors he did not prune the "flesh" off his "bones"

until the residue was satisfactory. Every line was complete when once he had set it down, and his ma.n.u.scripts are as unaltered as at the moment they were written. In his lectures, as in his writings, he seemed to complete his thoughts before they were transferred to speech or writing.

Having made up his mind what to say he just delivered himself over, as it were, to the absorbing interest or ruling pa.s.sion of the moment. All his written work cannot be said to be of equal merit. Perhaps his best efforts are to be found in "African Nature Notes and Reminiscences," in which his command of English reaches a high level, yet in all circ.u.mstances, especially when narrating his own adventures in simple style such as in "A Hunter's Wanderings," or his escape from the Mushukulumbwe, he enjoyed "the happy privilege of making lovers among his readers." He possessed a certain quiet gift of humour, which he seldom indulged in except in such quaint instances as the remarks he makes on the vicious horse he gave to Lobengula in the hope that he would give it to one of his chiefs whom Selous particularly detested.

Pathos too, to the man who so frequently met with it, was something too terrible for soul disintegration. He often told me he simply could not speak of the circ.u.mstances of poor French's death in the bush in 1879.

It hurt him so much. But romance, tragedy, the beautiful, the picturesque, or the n.o.ble deeds of unpretentious men all fell into their natural places in his scheme of colour and formed a completed whole that was the outcome of perfect spontaneity and natural utterance. Thus he saw life in a vision as wide and untrammelled as the desolate plains he loved. He seemed to divine from his own experience how other men felt, and with the intensity of human sympathy knew how to encourage and console others in times of difficulty. To him no man was so poor that he was not ready to give him a "lift" on his waggon or through his purse.

Sternness and tenderness were nearly matched in his conduct, the former for himself and the latter for the failings of others. In spite of his knowledge of the world he had no cynicism, his motto being to make things easier to those who were less fortunate than himself. He bore no grudge, nor did he feel sore at ingrat.i.tude, and might truly have said, "There is no man born with so little animosity as I."

In later years Selous often confessed to an enduring restlessness. There was always so much to be done and so little time to do it. Even when at home, where he was perfectly happy and always immersed in some form of brain work or outdoor activity, this restlessness never left him. He felt it ever in his blood, and it would act like some violent force--most violent when the turmoil and pettiness of human life or the futile presence of crowds jarred upon him. Life in cities was to him so infinitely inferior to the grandeur of nature and interest of the unknown. Having tasted of the best it is hard after a life spent amid romance and adventure to settle down comfortably amidst the tiny affairs and t.i.ttle-tattle of everyday things at home. He hated intensely lawyers, politicians, theorists and men who daily live in the public eye without knowing anything of the great world in its wide sense. This spirit of restlessness seems to have been ever present in his later life. He confessed that he found it difficult to stay in England for more than six months at a time. There was always some new country and the pursuit of some new animals which he wished to add to his unique collection. Africa seemed to draw him like a loadstone, as it had always done, and its never-ceasing call was ever sounding in his ears. Even when on service in 1916 he talked with William Judd in Nairobi of a trip he wished to make with him, after the war had ended, to the Amala to get a really good black-maned lion. Yet when he was on board s.h.i.+p he confessed that he was overcome with such home-sickness that he felt inclined to "throw himself overboard and swim ash.o.r.e." It must be admitted that he suffered to some extent in his later days from a disease which for want of a better word we must call the Nostalgia of Travel--a disease which attacks many old Big Game hunters--for often there comes a time when weariness of actual travelling creates depression, but in his subsequent letters from the actual hunting-grounds these adverse conditions disappear and he is once more keen and happy in the fascination of the chase and the clean conditions of a hunter's life. If we read carefully the cla.s.sics in hunting and travel such as Baldwin, Neumann, Livingstone, etc., we constantly come across records of depression on the part of the writers. Were all the hards.h.i.+p, toil, dangers and the eternal difficulties of keeping an outfit in order and even temper good enough? Was not all the money so hardly won to gain this trip not thrown away? Would the elephants (it was generally elephants) or the rare horns ever be sighted? Would the horses or oxen that were left be sufficient to carry the expedition through after the best had been killed or died of sickness? And yet there was always an answer to these questions when the leaders were men of grit. Clouds pa.s.s away, men recover their spirits, and we find them writing, it may be a few weeks or even days afterwards, as if "all was lovely in the garden."

All his life he was a great reader, and rather preferred the old "cla.s.sics" of English literature to modern books, except those on travel and big game hunting, of which he had an extensive library. He would read again and again and enjoy the works of Thackeray and d.i.c.kens, and amongst poets Byron was his favourite. Of modern writers no one appealed to him so much as Thomas Hardy, all of whose works found great favour, and especially "Tess of the D'Urbervilles," which he rightly esteemed as perhaps the greatest modern novel in the English language. Of writers on Big Game he esteemed highly Baldwin, Roosevelt, Charles Sheldon, Stewart Edward White, and Arthur Neumann. If he was bored in a crowd or had to wait at a railway station, he generally had a book in his pocket, and pa.s.sed the hours happily in complete absorption of the author's descriptions. His tastes were wide, as we should expect, ranging from Tom Hood's humorous poems and such modern imaginative adventures as "Raffles" and "Stingaree", to Gibbon's "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." He considered "Robbery under Arms" the most delightful modern romance, with a substratum of fact, he had ever read, but it always held second place to "Tess." He loved novels about imaginary people leading heroic lives, suffering, loving, hating, adventuring and fighting--all on some high level above the petty joys and sorrows of a work-a-day world.

Of his personal friends it is somewhat difficult to speak, as he knew so many in so many different lands. His circle of acquaintances was immense, though it was natural that his intimates should be men of similar tastes. In England we have a very excellent inst.i.tution known as the "s.h.i.+kari Club," an a.s.sociation of Big Game hunters founded by Captain C. E. Radclyffe, Captain P. B. Vanderbyl and Selous himself under the presidency of the Earl of Lonsdale. This club meets but once a year on the night of the Oaks, and members dine together at the Savoy Hotel. Here all matters relating to hunting throughout the world are discussed, plans are made for the future, and it is, as it were, a general meeting round the camp fire of brothers of the rifle. The camaraderie is excellent, and we all know and help each other with information as to future travels. Admission to its ranks is somewhat severe, for no man, unless he has proved himself to be a sportsman of the best type, is ever elected. Amongst these men, who have probably travelled and hunted more extensively than any other community in the world, Selous counted many close friends whose names are too numerous to mention, and from them he got the latest information for some projected trip just as he on his part helped many of them. Another club which at one time he constantly visited to hear discussions on the subject of birds was the British Ornithologists', a dining branch of the British Ornithologists' Union, where after dinner specimens of interest were exhibited, and discussions took place. Most of the princ.i.p.al members were his friends, as well as leading Zoologists in the Zoological Society and the British Museum (Natural History), whom it was always his pleasure to serve and help with new specimens. In later years nearly all his old South African friends were dead or had retired, so he saw little of them, but in England, after his return from South Africa, he made many new friends whose homes he constantly visited. From 1896 till the time of his death he often stayed with Lord Egerton of Tatton, whose son, the Hon. Maurice Egerton, whom he had first met in Alaska, was a great friend of his; with Abel Chapman, with whom he had been at school at Rugby, and who had many kindred tastes; with Heatley n.o.ble, to whom he was much attached; with Sir Philip Brocklehurst and his family, for whom he entertained a warm affection; and with Mr. MacMillan, in Devons.h.i.+re. These are only a few of the friends who were in intimate sympathy with him, and to whom he constantly wrote accounts of his more recent travels. I met him first in 1897, and from then until his death he wrote to me constantly, and never did either of us go on an expedition without his coming to see me or my going to Worplesdon to discuss the matter in the smallest detail. In those twenty years we both hunted or wandered in other lands every year, and I cannot adequately express what his warm friends.h.i.+p and help was to me, for when Selous opened his soul to anyone he did it with a whole-heartedness and an abandonment of all reserve that are rare in these days. In our lives there come only a few fellow-creatures to whom we can say anything that comes into our minds without being misinterpreted. Even in absence we think about them as they about us, and we know how they will rejoice at our successes and sympathize with our failures, because they know and understand. When such a man as Selous pa.s.ses away, and we have enjoyed that intimacy, the world indeed seems desolate, even though we have the poor consolation that what has been was very good.

In his own home Selous was hospitality itself, and loved to entertain visitors from all parts of the world who came to see him or his museum.

Complete strangers were received with the same courtesy as intimate friends, and Selous would spend hours showing his trophies to anyone who exhibited the smallest interest in the subject. Officers from Aldershot or Naval men were always welcome, and I should think that a large portion of the British Army and Navy had at one time or another enjoyed the pleasure of seeing his trophies under his personal supervision, and it was this abandonment of self and personal interest in his fellow-creatures that made him so popular.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THEY CANNOT BREAK HIS SLEEP.]

One day I found him in fits of laughter over one of his visitors. A telegram had been received in the morning stating that Lewanika, chief of the Barotsi, whom he had known in old days, would visit him. His dusky majesty, attended by a cicerone, arrived in a very perturbed state of mind. It appeared that in the morning he had been received by His Majesty the King at Buckingham Palace, and when he left he was under the impression that he had not behaved properly in the royal presence. These fears were confirmed when the train which bore the party to Worplesdon entered the long tunnel just before reaching Guildford. The absence of lights, and the darkness of the surroundings, seemed to have been the climax, for the dusky monarch dived under the seat of the carriage, and was with difficulty removed when the train reached Guildford. Never before having experienced such a horrible thing as a tunnel, Lewanika considered that the English King was taking this new method to destroy him.[87]

As a man of such breadth of mind his friends.h.i.+ps were cosmopolitan rather than insular. He had many friends in Austria, such as the three Counts Hoyos; in America, such as President Roosevelt, Charles Sheldon, and the members of the Boone and Crockett Club; in Asia Minor and Transylvania, such as Sir William Whittall and Consul Danford; whilst in South Africa he knew everyone in all grades of politics or outdoor life.

To enumerate the men he knew well would fill a volume.

One of Fred's missionary friends in the pioneer days was the Rev. Isaac s.h.i.+mmin, a type of those hard-working, una.s.suming men who go out into the wilderness to do good to others. He is kind enough to send me a few lines denoting Selous' att.i.tude towards the spread of religion in the new country and his broad-minded tolerance of various creeds.

"It is now nearly thirty years since I first met my old friend, Fred Selous. At that time I was living at Klerksdorp, in the Transvaal, and among my friends were some who in former years had lived in the interior; such as Mr. Thomas Leask, Mr. Alec Brown, and several others. I was therefore in the right atmosphere for hearing thrilling stories of African adventure, in which men like Hartley the hunter and Westbeech the trader had played a prominent part. For this little town had for years been the refitting station for men from the north, and because of this we always seemed in close touch with the regions beyond.

One day I met Mr. H. C. Collison, and soon after I heard Mr. G.

A. Phillips ('Elephant Phil') describe realistically an encounter with a lion. But there was one name around which a halo of peculiar distinction had already gathered, for I noticed that when these men spoke of Selous it was always with a note of personal affection; they not only admired him as a successful hunter, but they evidently loved him as a well-tried friend. And when I actually met him I soon recognized the charm of his simple and winning personality. The friends.h.i.+p which was then begun quickly ripened into an intimacy which lasted until the day of his death. I was only a young Wesleyan minister, and he was the famous hunter, and yet we had many things in common, and what attracted me most was his unaffected manner and genuine honesty of thought and conduct. How well I remember his first visit to my little parsonage, his stories of travel and adventure told with such quiet and characteristic modesty, and our long talk on Spiritualism and kindred subjects. He was one of the best conversationalists I have ever met, he could listen as well as speak, he had kept up his reading all through his wanderings, and his lonely life in the African veldt had given him many opportunities for keen and original reflection.

"About the date to which I refer he was making preparations for leading the pioneers of the Chartered Company into Mashunaland, and he kindly invited me to accompany him, offering me the use of one of his own waggons. To my great regret I had to decline, but the following year (1891) I was appointed to represent the Wesleyan Church in the new Colony, and by the end of September I found myself established in the small town of Salisbury. One of the first to give me a welcome was Fred Selous, who was then employed by the Government in making roads and helping to open out and settle the country.

"It is impossible in these few lines to say very much about my friend, but by giving two or three simple incidents I may help the reader to see Selous as I saw him. His hatred of boasting and exaggeration was very marked. One day he called on me in Salisbury and asked me to go to his house, as he had something to show me. He had just returned from Hartley Hills, and whilst there had shot his largest lion. How modestly he told the story, and with what interest I looked upon the skin of the huge beast (now mounted at Worplesdon). His humility was always as conspicuous as his bravery. Nor would he condone any false pretensions in others. He was once having breakfast in my waggon, and a gentleman who was outspanned near by asked me to introduce him to the great hunter. I did so, and immediately Selous began to ask him about certain incidents in a book he had published some time before. The replies, I could see, were not satisfactory and the subject was dropped. What amused me later was the surprise of the visitor that such a quiet and una.s.suming man should be the famous personage whose name was revered by every man who carried a gun. But such a person could not possibly understand Selous, who, neither in speech nor in print, would ever make a statement which he could not verify. His veracity was unimpeachable, and his 'Hunter's Wanderings' was the favourite text-book of every amateur. His word could be taken for every trivial detail; as I once heard an old hunter remark, 'Whatever Fred Selous says is absolutely true.' This was not a cheap testimony in a country where the imagination so often colours the records of personal adventure.

"He was never afraid to express his opinions, however unpopular they might be at the time. We were both in Bulawayo when word came from the south that Dr. Jameson had invaded the Transvaal with a few hundred men. An open-air meeting was held in the town, and Selous was one of the speakers. There was great excitement and we hardly knew what to believe. In the afternoon I rode out with him to his farm (Ess.e.xvale), about twenty miles from Bulawayo, and spent a few pleasant days in his home, but I remember how strongly he expressed his doubts as to the genuineness of the message of distress from Johannesburg. When I got back to town I heard of the capture of Jameson by Cronje, and later events proved that the doubts of my friend were amply justified.

"Selous was thought by some to have been rather critical as regards the work of the missionaries, but from various conversations I had with him I am convinced that his criticisms applied only to those whose methods were more idealistic than practical. Among his warmest friends were those devoted men who had toiled for years in Matabeleland, and who had succeeded in raising the physical and moral status of the natives. That he was always in sympathy with all good work was evident. Soon after going to Salisbury I was engaged in building a small church and the other denominations were also doing their best for the new community, all of us working together in the most friendly spirit. One day Selous said to me, with a touch of hesitation, 'By the way, s.h.i.+mmin, I wish you would do me a favour. Would you give this small donation to Canon Balfour, of the Church of England, and this to Major Pascoe, of the Salvation Army, and keep the other for your own building-fund.

You are all doing good work, and I want to help you.' And he handed me three five-pound notes. It was a good proof of his broad and liberal outlook and of his recognition of the practical benefits of the Christian Church.

"This sketch is necessarily very brief and imperfect, and, as I write, my memory brings before me many scenes which are a.s.sociated with my old friend. I think of the fas.h.i.+onable crowd in the Imperial Inst.i.tute, with the Duke of Fife in the chair, and Selous giving a lecture in his own inimitable style. I was very proud of him, but that evening, as I sat with Mrs. Selous and Miss Rhodes, I somehow felt that the speaker was closer to me than to any of that admiring audience, for he and I had been together in the African wilds.