1908-1913
On March 20th, 1908, President Roosevelt wrote to Selous and announced
his intention of taking a long holiday in Africa as soon as his
Presidency of the United States came to an end, and asked Selous to help
him. So from this date until the following March, Selous busied himself
in making all the preparations and arrangements of a trip the success of
which was of the greatest possible delight to Roosevelt and his son
Kermit, and advantage to the American museums of Natural History, which
benefited by the gift of a magnificent series of the East African and
Nile Fauna.[58] Selous threw himself into the task with characteristic
energy, with the result that the President had the very best advice and
help. Roosevelt was at first adverse to taking a white man as
caravan-manager, but Selous overruled this and proved the wisdom of
employing such men as Cuninghame and Judd (for a short period), who are
by far the most experienced hunters in East Africa, for Roosevelt and
his son had then nothing to do but hunt and enjoy themselves, whilst all
the burden of camp-arrangements was taken off their shoulders. Writing
on November 9th, 1908, Roosevelt expresses his gratitude, and in his
letter gives some insight into his policy of the "employment of the
fit."
"Perhaps you remember the walk we took down Rock Creek, climbing
along the sides of the Creek. On Saturday I took fifty officers
of the general staff and War College on that same walk, because
I thought the older ones might need a little waking up. I was
rather pleased to find that they all went pretty well, even when
we waded the Creek where it was up to our armpits, and climbed
the cliffs. My dear Selous, it does not seem to me that I would
have taken this trip (to Africa) without your advice and aid,
and I can never begin to thank you for all you have done."
President Roosevelt was also delighted with the prospect that he would
have Selous' company in his forthcoming voyage to Africa. Writing
December 28th, 1908, he says:--
"Three cheers! I am simply overjoyed that you are going out. It
is just the last touch to make everything perfect. But you must
leave me one lion somewhere! I do not care whether it has a
black mane or yellow mane, or male or female, so long as it is a
lion; and I do not really expect to get one anyhow.[59] I count
upon seeing you on April 5th at Naples. It makes all the
difference in the world to me that you are going, and I simply
must get to MacMillan's during part of the time that you are
there.
"I have written Sir Alfred Pease that I shall leave Mombasa just
as soon as I can after reaching there; go straight to Nairobi,
stay there as short a time as possible, and then go direct to
his ranch. I particularly wish to avoid going on any
hunting-trip immediately around Nairobi or in the neighbourhood
of the railroad, for that would be to invite reporters and
photographers to accompany me, and in short, it would mean just
what I am most anxious to avoid.
"Do let me repeat how delighted I am that you are to be with me
on the steamer, and I do hope we will now and then meet during
the time you are in British East Africa. I should esteem it an
honour and a favour if you would accompany me for any part of my
trip that you are able, as my guest."
No doubt to regular African hunters it is far better and more enjoyable
that they should pursue their wanderings unaccompanied by a white guide,
but to any man, however experienced in other lands, success in Africa in
a "first trip" certainly depends much on the local knowledge of the
white hunter who accompanies the expedition, if expense is no object. A
man may know all about hunting elsewhere, yet would make the most
egregious mistakes in Africa, and perhaps never see the animals he most
wishes to possess if he went only accompanied by a black shikari, so
Selous made a point of insisting that Roosevelt should have the best
local guidance at his command. Thus he writes to Sir Alfred Pease, who
was then resident in East Africa:--
"_September 26th, 1908_.
"MY DEAR SIR ALFRED,
"Since I received your letter I have heard again from President
Roosevelt. He tells me that he has heard from Mr. Buxton,[60]
and that Mr. Buxton thinks that he ought not to engage a white
man to manage his caravan. He quotes me the following passage
from Mr. Buxton's letter: 'If you wish to taste the sweets of
the wilderness, leave the Cook tourist element behind, and trust
to the native, who will serve a good master faithfully, and whom
you can change if not up to your standard.' The President then
goes on to say that he is puzzled; but that his own judgment now
_'leans very strongly_' towards engaging a white man, and as I
know that several men who have recently travelled in East Africa
have also strongly advised him to do so, I feel sure that he
will decide to engage Judd or a man named Cuninghame, who has
also been strongly recommended to him. I must confess that I
fail to follow Mr. Buxton's argument. The objection to being a
Cook's tourist is, I always thought, because one does not like
to be one of a crowd with many of whom you may be entirely out
of sympathy, and how on earth the fact that he had a white man
to look after all the details of his caravan, instead of a
native headman, would give his trip the flavour of a Cook's
tour, or prevent him in any way from tasting the sweets of the
wilderness, I entirely fail to understand. Rather, I think, it
would enhance the sweetness and enjoyment of his trip by
relieving him of all the troublesome worries connected with the
management of a large caravan. First of all, I believe that both
Judd and Cuninghame would have a wider knowledge of the whole of
East Africa than any native headman. The President would say,
'Now I want to go to the Gwas N'yiro river, where Neumann used
to hunt, or to the country to the north of Mount Elgon, or to
the country where Patterson saw all those rhinoceroses, giraffes
and other game last year.' His manager would then work out the
amount of provisions it would be necessary to take for such a
trip, the number of porters necessary, engage those porters, and
in fact make all the necessary arrangements to carry out the
President's wishes. He would then arrange the loads, attend to
the feeding of the porters, the pitching of camp every evening,
and give out stores to the cook, and generally take all the
petty details of the management of a caravan off the President's
hands. As regards hunting, the manager of the caravan would
never go out with the President unless he asked him to do so.
He, the President, would go out hunting with his Somali shikari,
a staunch Masai or other native to carry his second rifle, and
natives to carry the meat and trophies of any animal shot. Of
course, if when going after lions, elephants or buffaloes, he
would like to have his white manager with him, all well and
good, and it would be an advantage if such a man was an
experienced hunter and a steady, staunch fellow who could be
depended on in an emergency. Now, as I have said before, I feel
sure that the President will finally decide to engage either
Judd or Cuninghame, and the question is which is the better of
those two men. I know neither of them--for although I seem to
have met Cuninghame years ago, I do not remember him. I never
heard of Judd until Bulpett spoke to me about him, nor of
Cuninghame, until the President wrote and told me that Captain
and Mrs. Saunderson had strongly advised him to engage him. He
was also advised to engage Cuninghame by an American who was
lately in East Africa, and now I have just got a letter from
Cuninghame himself, a copy of which I enclose you to read.
Please return it to me as I have sent the original to the
President and asked him to get Mr. Akeley's opinion. As soon as
I received this letter from Cuninghame, I went to London and saw
Mr. Claude Tritton. He (Mr. Tritton) told me he knew both Judd
and Cuninghame well, and thought them both thoroughly competent
men. What do you think about it? Do you know Cuninghame, or can
you find out anything as to the relative value of these two
men--Judd and Cuninghame? MacMillan evidently knows both of
them, and he is coming home in a month or six weeks' time. I
have written all this to the President, and asked him to wait
until we find out more about the two men; but suggesting that
should he finally decide to engage either Judd or Cuninghame,
leaving it to us to decide which was the better man, we should
wait to hear MacMillan's opinion, but then write and engage one
or the other, and ask him to pick out himself the best Somali
shikaris, gun-carriers and special native headmen, whom he could
have ready by a given date (this is your suggestion, and I think
an excellent one, as probably both Judd and Cuninghame know some
good and reliable men and have had them with them on
hunting-trips). In the meantime I told the President that I
would answer Cuninghame's letter, in a strictly non-committal
way, but telling him that I would write again in a couple of
months' time, and that he _might_ be wanted to manage the
President's early trips. Let me know what you think of all this.
I am now convinced that the President will take either Judd or
Cuninghame with him. My arguments may have had some weight with
him, for I am strongly in favour of his doing so, but other
people have also given him the same advice. On the other hand,
he has heard Mr. Buxton's arguments on the other side, and he
may decide to be guided by them. But Mr. Buxton's views are, I
think, not generally held by men who have travelled extensively
in Africa, and I think the President will finally decide to
engage either Judd or Cuninghame, and if so we must try and
ensure his getting the best man. I trust that the weather is now
somewhat better in Scotland, and that you have had some good
sport.
"Believe me,
"Yours very truly,
"F. C. Selous.
"P.S.--As Cuninghame is now starting on a trip which will last
three or four months, he will be back at Nairobi early next
month, and if engaged by the President, would then have plenty
of time to look out for Somalis, and other picked natives,
before the President's arrival in Africa."
Selous himself went on the hunt in East Africa with his friend, W. N.
MacMillan, who was resident in East Africa. He left England on April
1st, 1909. Just before starting, he gives his ideas on the prospects of
hunting in the rainy season.
"MY DEAR JOHNNY,
"Just a line to bid you good-bye before I start for East Africa.
I would have written to you long ago, but I have been
continually looking forward to coming over to see you before I
left England; but the bad weather has always prevented me from
doing so. I am going out to East Africa at the very worst time
of year, as heavy rains have still to come in May and June. The
consequence will be that when I get there the whole country will
be smothered in long grass, just as it was when I was in East
Africa last, game will be very scattered, and there will be a
very small chance of getting a lion. I would never have
entertained the idea of going at this season but for the fact
that I am going out as the guest of Mr. MacMillan (who has a
large ranch near Nairobi), and my expenses will be very small.
It just came to this, that I had to go now--as President
Roosevelt wanted me to meet him at Naples and travel with him to
Nairobi--or not at all; but I don't look forward to much
success, and the risk of getting fever is always very much
greater when hunting in the rainy season, than in dry weather.
Very heavy rains have been falling this season all over North
and South Rhodesia, and in British Central Africa, as well as in
East Africa. Every trip I have made during the last few years
has been marred by rain. My last trip to East Africa was very
much spoilt by rain and long grass, then the trip to Sardinia,
as well as the last ones to Yukon and Newfoundland, were much
spoilt by rain. I hope that you have now quite recovered from
the effects of the pleurisy you caught last year in British
Columbia. Are you going anywhere this year I wonder?"
[Illustration: MT. KENIA FROM THE SOUTH.]
Selous' first trip with MacMillan was successful in his getting several
new species for his collection, but what he most wanted was a good
black-maned lion. He was, however, unsuccessful in this. Mr. Williams, a
member of his party, found three lions one day and killed two of them
somewhat easily. The third charged and seized the unfortunate hunter by
the leg, severely biting him. His life, however, was saved by the
bravery of his Swahili gun-bearer, who gave the lion a fatal shot as it
stood over his master. Mr. Williams was carried to hospital in Nairobi,
where he lay between life and death for some time, and then completely
recovered.
At the beginning of September, 1910, the Second International Congress
of Field Sports was held at Vienna in connection with the Exhibition.
The First Congress met at Paris in 1907, when the British delegate was
Lord Montagu of Beaulieu, while, at Vienna, Selous was appointed by Sir
Edward Grey, then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, as the
official delegate from this country. The Congress was divided into three
separate sections, dealing respectively with the Economic Importance,
the Science and Practice, and the Legislation of Field Sports. The
meetings of these three sections were held simultaneously, and the
British delegate confined his attention to Section III (Legislation). In
this section he was instrumental, with the cordial support of his French
colleague, Comte Justinien Clary, President of the St. Hubert Club of
France, in securing the passing of an important resolution in favour of
the International Protection of Migrating Birds (especially the quail
and woodcock).
At the Exhibition Great Britain was represented by a very fair
collection of Big Game heads. Selous sending his best Koodoo, Wart Hog,
White Rhinoceros, and Alaskan Moose, all exceptional specimens.
Selous was delighted with all he saw of the Great Hunting Exhibition, by
far the finest of its kind ever offered to the public. I had hoped to
meet him there, as I was going to hunt in Galicia, but found he had left
for home. After describing the exhibition he wrote to me:--
"Warburton Pike wishes me to tell you that he will show you round
the Exhibition. The Hungarian, Austrian and old German stags'
heads are simply wonderful, but there are so many that it is
bewildering. Weidmann's Heil."
Warburton Pike, here mentioned, was a splendid specimen of an
Englishman, who was to British Columbia and Arctic Canada what Selous
himself was to Africa. In his person existed a type of pioneer as modest
as courageous. His travels and privations in the Arctic barren grounds
made him known to most people in Canada, whilst his unselfish devotion
and unfailing kindness to his fellow colonists endeared him to thousands
of "voyageurs" who battled with the forces of Nature in the far
North-West. He had a little mine amongst the Jack pines above Dease Lake
where he lived, in the four working months, chiefly on tea, game and
"flapjacks." Here he wrested from a refractory soil about as much gold
as would have satisfied a Chinaman. Nevertheless, he toiled on year
after year, because he had faith and the grit that bites deep even when
common sense says, "Is it good enough?"
Every spring saw "Pikey" full of hope, dragging his canoe with two
Indians up the rain-drenched valley of the Stikine for 200 miles, and
then on with pack-horses to his mine, another 100 miles, and every fall
he raced downward to the sea, disappointed, but undefeated. When people
met him in Vancouver, they would say, "How goes it, Pikey?" Then his
kind face would light up. "Splendid," he would reply, though he had
hardly enough money to buy bread and butter.
Yet no one ever appealed to Warburton Pike in vain, for on the rare
occasions when he had a little money he invariably gave it away to his
less fortunate friends. Every wastrel and miner on the Pacific slope
knew "Pikey" and asked his advice and help, which was ever forthcoming,
and in the eyes of the colonists he was the man who embodied the type of
all that was best.
From Vancouver to the Yukon and from St. Michaels to the Mackenzie, the
name of Warburton Pike was one to conjure with, and though comparatively
unknown in England, his noble spirit will never be forgotten in the
homes of all those who knew and loved him. Like all good men, he came to
England in 1914, to play his part in the Great War, and I think it broke
his heart when he found no one would employ him. He suffered a nervous
breakdown, and in a fit of depression he took his own life in the summer
of 1916. He published a few books, among which the best-known is
"Through the Sub-Arctic Forest."
Selous had long cherished a desire to add to his great collection of
African trophies a specimen of the Giant Eland of the Lower Sudan. An
expedition for this purpose, however, without outside aid would have
been to him too expensive a trip, so he made certain arrangements with
Lord Rothschild and the British Museum which helped to alleviate the
financial strain. After this had been successfully effected, he left on
January 19th, 1911. Thus he writes of his plans on the eve of
departure:--
"MY DEAR JOHNNY,
"Just a line in frightful haste to thank you for your kind
letter and all your good wishes. If I am successful in finding
the Elands, I fear I shall not be able to get a head for my own
collection, as if I get permission to shoot more than those I
want for the N.H. Museum, I must get a specimen for Rothschild,
who will give me L70 for it, and I don't think they will let me
get one for Rothschild and another for myself in addition to
those I want for the Museum. I have, however, first to find the
Elands and then shoot and preserve them, and to do the latter
all by myself, with only raw savages to help me will be a hard
job in the climate of the Lado, where I am going to look for my
game. I shall probably be more sure of finding the Elands to the
south of Wau, in the Bahr-el-Ghazal Province, but the journey
there would be much more expensive, and my means are very
limited. I hope to get a free passage from Khartoum to Lado in
the Government steamer. I have been very much interested in
Buxton's new Koodoo-like antelope, but what nonsense it is to
call it a 'Mountain Inyala.' It does not resemble an Inyala in
any way. It is of course quite a distinct species. I don't know
if I shall be able to get anything for myself at all this trip.
The white-eared Kob and Mrs. Gray's Kob are only found near Lake
No, near the junction of the Bahr-el-Ghazal with the Nile, but
going by steamer to and back from Lado, the steamer does not
stop there, only steams through their district, and there is
only one steamer a month. I shall look forward very much to
seeing your new book on American big game on my return from the
Sudan. With your own illustrations it cannot fail to be a very
attractive and interesting work. The climate of the Lado they
tell me is bad, unhealthy, intensely hot and enervating, but I
hope I keep pretty well, and come back all right."
When he reached Cairo, he had an interview with Sir F. Wingate, to whom
he had letters of introduction from Sir E. Grey. He then went on to
Khartoum, where he met Mr. Butler, who was then in charge of big game
matters connected with the Lower Sudan. Mr. Butler advised him to go to
Mongalla, as the best and most accessible place at which to find the
Giant Eland, since Wau had been much hunted, but Selous thought that the
Tembera country would be the best, because few travellers had ever been
there, and it could only be reached by a toilsome journey from the river
with pack-donkeys. Accordingly he took the steamer going south. At Rejaf
the vessel stopped to take in wood, and there met another steamer whose
occupants informed him of the death of poor Phil Oberlander, who had
just been killed by a buffalo near the village of Sheikh Lowala. It
appears that this unfortunate fellow, who had just killed a fine Giant
Eland at Mongalla, and was on his way home up the river, had stopped at
a village near Mongalla for a day or two, to try to get a buffalo, of
which there were some herds in the neighbourhood. He had landed and very
soon found a good herd. His shots wounded a big bull, which left the
herd and retreated into the thick bush. Oberlander at once followed, but
unfortunately forgot to reload his heavy rifle. The usual thing
happened, and the wounded bull charged suddenly from one flank, and
instead of reports two clicks ensued. The bull rushed at Oberlander,
knocked him to the ground and literally beat his body to a pulp. Later
in the day the bull was found lying dead. Its head was recovered by Mr.
Butler, who sent it to the Vienna Museum, for which Oberlander had
collected industriously for several years.
I first met Oberlander on the steamer going to Alaska, in September,
1908. He then called himself Count Oberlander, a title which I believe
he had no claim to. He was a strange creature, full of assurance, and
with a very complete contempt for British and American game-laws, and
apparently oblivious of the fact that without their institution he would
not have been able to obtain the specimens he so earnestly desired to
capture. His one idea seemed to be to get specimens anyhow, and that a
letter from the authorities of the Vienna Museum and an unlimited
expenditure of cash would overcome all difficulties. In this he was
partly right and partly wrong, for when he shot numerous female sheep
and kids in the mountains of Cassiar he reckoned without the long arm of
the law and the vigilance of the hawk-eyed Bryan Williams, our game
warden in Vancouver, who promptly had him arrested and heavily fined.
As an example of his impudence he told us the following story, which I
afterwards found was true in all details. One day in August, 1908, he
went to the National Park at Yellowstone, and coolly informed two of the
game wardens that he had come there to shoot a buffalo. At first the
latter regarded the matter as a joke, but, finding he was in earnest,
they told him that if he did not clear out they would confiscate his
guns and arrest him. Unabashed, Oberlander said:
"Well, you need not get huffy. I will give you L250 for that old bull,"
pointing to an old patriarch within a wooden enclosure. The shaft,
however, went home, for the game wardens at once reported the matter to
their chief.
Now, L250 was a very nice sum, and it was quite within the realms of
possibility that the old bull would die a natural death within the next
year or two and that the dead carcase might be worth perhaps L50. Facts,
therefore, were facts, which seemed to appeal to the business instincts
of the park authorities, so next day Oberlander was informed that he
might shoot the buffalo as soon as his cheque was forthcoming.
Oberlander at once handed over the money and killed the bull, shooting
him through the bars of the cage, and he showed us an excellent
photograph of this doughty deed with no little satisfaction.
Oberlander afterwards hunted in Cassiar, Mexico, East Africa, and the
Arctic regions, before going on the expedition up the Nile that was to
prove fatal to him. In him the Vienna Museum lost a good friend, but he
could scarcely be considered a good type of sportsman.
We need not follow Selous' wanderings in the parched uninteresting
forest country about Tembera, where for nine weeks, in company with a
native chief named Yei, he hunted the small herd of Giant Elands
somewhat unsuccessfully. At last he killed a good female, but had no
luck in securing a big male. On March 7th he went north to Rumbek, and
on March 28th he and Captain Tweedie went north to a small river and
shot nine Kobs. On April 4th he again left Rumbek and returned south for
another hunt for the Elands, which was again unsuccessful. On April 29th
he arrived at the Nile and turned homewards.[61]
"I cannot pretend," writes Selous, "I enjoyed my excursion in the
Bahr-el-Ghazal Province. In the first place, I was unsuccessful in the
main object of my journey. Then the deadly monotony of the landscape,
the extraordinary scarcity of game, and the excessive heat of the
climate, all combined to make my trip very wearisome and uninteresting."
He came away, however, with a very deep admiration for the gallant band
of young Britons who were doing the work of the Empire in the wilds of
Africa.
At the end of this trying hunt he was far from well, and was unable to
ride, so he had to tramp the whole way to the Nile on foot. Arrived at
Rumbek the medical officer there discovered the cause of his ill-health,
so, as soon as he arrived in England he saw Mr. Freyer, who recommended
an operation. "I got over the operation," he writes to Abel Chapman,
"wonderfully well, and simply healed up like a dog. In fact, I was the
record case for healing up in ten years amongst Freyer's patients." I
went to see him in a nursing home in London, and heard all about his
Lado trip, which was rather a sore subject with him, but, with his usual
determination, he was only full of ideas to go back again and make a
success the next time. In August we both went again to Swythamley, as
the guests of young Sir Philip Brocklehurst, and had a very pleasant
time amongst the grouse on the Derbyshire hills. Afterwards Selous
stayed for a time in the Isle of Wight, with his wife and boys, and
later in the autumn he travelled to Turin Exhibition of hunting and
shooting, as one of the British jurors.
Later in 1911 Selous again left for British East Africa, to go on
another hunt to the Gwas N'yiro river, with his friend MacMillan. Before
leaving he wrote to President Roosevelt, intimating that he feared he
was now too old for the hard work entailed by African hunting, which
called forth the following comfortable advice (Sept. 11th, 1911).
"MacMillan lunches here Thursday. I am very glad you are going
out with him to Africa. He is a trump! I am rather amused at
your saying that you will not take any risks with lion now, and
that you do not think your eyes are very good. I would not trust
you!--seriously. I always wished to speak to you about the time
that you followed the lioness which crouched in a bush, and then
so nearly got Judd, who was riding after you. I think you were
taking more of a chance on that occasion than you ought to have
taken. It is not as if you had never killed a lion, and were
willing to take any chance to get your first specimen. That I
could quite understand. But you have killed a great many, and
you ought not to do as poor George Grey did last year, and get
caught through acting with needless recklessness.[62] I know you
will not pay any heed to this advice, and, doubtless, you regard
me as over-cautious with wild beasts, but, my dear fellow, at
your age and with your past, and with your chance of doing good
work in the present and future, I honestly do not think you
ought to take these risks unless there is some point in doing
so.
"You say you are too old for such a trip as that with MacMillan.
Nonsense! It is precisely the kind of trip which you ought to
take. Why, I, who am far less hardy and fit, would like nothing
better than to be along with you and MacMillan on that trip. But
you ought not to take such a trip as that you took on the
Bahr-el-Ghazal. It would have meant nothing to you thirty years
ago; it would mean nothing to Kermit now; but you are nearly
sixty years old, and though I suppose there is no other man of
sixty who is physically as fit as you, still it is idle to
suppose that you can now do what you did when you were in the
twenties. Of course I never was physically fit in the sense that
you were, but still I was a man of fair hardihood, and able to
hold my own reasonably well in my younger days; but when I went
to Africa I realized perfectly well, although I was only fifty,
that I was no longer fit to do the things I had done, and I
deliberately set myself to the work of supplying the place of
the prowess I had lost by making use of all that the years had
brought in the way of gain to offset it. That is, I exercised
what I think I can truthfully say was much intelligence and
foresight in planning the trip. I made it for a great scientific
National museum (which was itself backed by private capital),
and made it at the time when the fact that I had been President
gave me such prestige that the things were done for me which
ought to have been done, but were not done, for you last
spring. Then I took along Kermit, who, in the case of the bongo
and koodoo and Northern Sable, was able to supply the qualities
that I once had had and now lacked. In consequence, while
everything was done to make my trip successful and comparatively
easy, I am yet entitled to claim the modest credit that is
implied in saying that I took advantage of the opportunities
thus generously given me, and that I planned the trip carefully,
and used the resources that my past had given me, in the way of
notoriety or reputation, to add somewhat to my sum of
achievement. On your trip you also had genuine bad luck, and the
trip was not long enough, and the opportunities were not
sufficiently numerous, to allow the good and bad luck to even
up, as they will on such a long trip as mine. For instance, it
was simply luck in my case that got me some of my game; but then
it was simply luck, also, that I did not get some other things;
and so it about evened up.
"My own physical limitations at the moment come chiefly from a
perfectly commonplace but exasperating ailment--rheumatism. It
not only cripples me a good deal, so that I am unable to climb
on or off a horse with any speed, but it also prevents my
keeping in condition. I cannot take any long walks, and
therefore cannot keep in shape; but I am sufficiently fortunate
to have a great many interests, and I am afraid, sufficiently
lazy also thoroughly to enjoy being at home; and I shall be
entirely happy if I never leave Sagamore again for any length of
time. I have work which is congenial and honourable, although
not of any special importance, and if I can keep it for the next
seven or eight years, my youngest son will have graduated from
college, so that all the children will be swimming for
themselves, and then I am content not to try to earn any more
money.
"Fond though I am of hunting and of the wilderness and of
natural history, it has not been to me quite the passion that it
has been to you, and though I would give a great deal to repeat
in some way or some fashion, say in Central Asia or in Farther
India, or in another part of Africa, the trip I made last year,
I know perfectly well that I cannot do it; and I do not
particularly care for smaller trips. If it were not for our
infernal newspaper-men, I should go off for a week or two this
fall bear-hunting in the Louisiana cane-brakes; but I know I
should be pestered out of my life by the newspaper-men, who
would really destroy all my pleasure in what I was doing. I have
found that I have to get really far off in the wilderness in
order to get rid of them, even now, when I am no longer a person
of public prominence. I never cared for the fishing-rod or the
shot-gun, and I cannot afford to keep hunters. But you, my dear
fellow, are still hardy, and you can still do much. I have never
understood why your 'African Nature Notes' did not have a
greater financial success. It is a book which will last
permanently, and will, I am sure, have an ever-increasing meed
of appreciation. I re-read it all last winter, and Sheldon, as I
think I told you, mentioned to me the other day that he regarded
it as the best book of the kind that had ever been written.
"Kermit is, at the moment, in New Brunswick getting moose,
caribou, and beaver for the National Museum. I think I told you
that he got four sheep, three of them for the Museum, on his
recent trip into the Mexican desert. He made it just as you have
made so many of your trips, that is, he got two Mexicans and two
small pack-mules, and travelled without a tent, and with one
spare pair of shoes and one spare pair of socks as his sole
luggage. Once they nearly got into an ugly scrape through
failure to find a water-hole, for it is a dangerous country.
Kermit found that he could outlast in walking and in enduring
thirst, not only the Mexicans but the American prospectors whom
he once or twice met."
The reference in his letter to the lioness "which crouched in a bush,
and then so nearly got Judd," refers to an incident that happened in the
Gwas N'yiro bush in Selous' former hunt with MacMillan (1909), and this
little adventure was related to me by William Judd himself. It appears
that Selous and Judd were out together one day and disturbed two
lionesses, which disappeared in thick forest. Selous at once galloped
after them and outdistanced Judd, who came somewhat slowly cantering
behind, as he did not wish to interfere with Selous. All at once, from
the side of the path, Judd saw a great yellow body come high in the air
from the side of the game-trail. He had no time even to raise his rifle
from the position across the saddle-pommel, but just cocked it up across
and pulled the trigger. One of the lionesses, for such it was, had
apparently crouched and allowed Selous to pass, and had then hurled
herself upon the second hunter. By a fine piece of judgment, or a happy
fluke, Judd's bullet went through the lioness's eye and landed her dead
at his feet. His horse swerved. He fell off, and found himself standing
beside the dead body of his adversary. Selous then returned, and was
astonished to find Judd standing over the dead animal in the path he had
so lately passed. I saw the skin of this lioness in Judd's house, near
Nairobi, in 1913, and noticed the little bullet hole over the eye. If
the missile had gone an inch higher it is doubtful if the hunter would
have escaped with his life, or at any rate without a severe mauling.
After the trip with MacMillan, 1911-1912, Selous writes (June 23rd,
1913):--
"My dear Johnny,--I wonder where you are and what you are doing.
Some one told me the other day that you were going to Africa on
a shooting-trip this year. I had quite an interesting time with
MacMillan, and got a few nice things to add to my collection. I
got three nice Lesser Koodoos on the lower Gwas N'yiro river as
well as Gerenuks, good Beisa, and Impala--though nothing
exceptional--very good specimens of the small races of Grant's
Gazelle--_notata_ and _Brighti_--Grevy's zebra, the reticulated
giraffe, a good bushbuck, a striped hyena, two buffalo bulls,
and a lot of Dik-diks (of two distinct species and, I think,
possibly three). I don't know whether you have seen two letters
of mine in the 'Field'[63] for June 8th and 15th, but if you
have, you will have read my account of a rather interesting
experience I had with a lion. This was the only lion I actually
fired at, though I saw four lionesses one day, and tracked a
lion and lioness on another occasion for a long distance and got
close to them, but, owing to the thickness of the bush, could
not see them. That was the trouble on the lower Gwas N'yiro
river. The bush was so frightfully thick along the river, and
outside, too, very often, that it required great luck to get a
lion in the daytime, and they would not come to baits at night.
The bush was simply awful for buffaloes. Let me know what you
are doing and I will try and come over to see you one of these
days."
Selous seems to have been unusually unlucky on the few occasions he met
with lions in the Gwas N'yiro bush. On March 2nd, 1912, he suddenly came
face to face with a big lion, but as soon as it saw him, it dived into
the forest and was immediately lost to view. On another occasion he
wounded a pallah buck, which a lion then killed, and death was so recent
that Selous sat over "the kill" and waited. The lion came and stood
within twenty-five yards of the hunter, who fired two shots at it, and
although assured that it was severely wounded he never recovered the
body.[64]
The most exciting incident, however, of this trip was the killing of
what he calls "My Last Buffalo." Near the river he found the tracks of
two old buffalo bulls, which he followed industriously for six miles. At
last he obtained a snap shot and hit one of the bulls badly through the
lungs. After following the wounded animal a short distance, he suddenly
heard the unmistakable grunts which always precede a charge. "The next
instant the buffalo was on us, coming over the edge of the gully with
nose outstretched, half a ton of bone and muscle driven at tremendous
speed by the very excusable rage and fury of a brave and determined
animal.... When I fired, the muzzle of my rifle must have been within
three yards of the buffalo." The buffalo fell to the shot, the vertebrae
of the neck being struck, and as he fell struck Elani the Somali.
"He only received this one terrific blow, though he was pushed
to the bottom of the gully--only a few yards--in front of the
buffalo's knees and right under its nose, but my bullet had for
a moment partially paralysed it. I got another cartridge into
the chamber of my rifle as quickly as possible, and, turning to
the buffalo, somehow got a second bullet into its hind-quarters,
which brought it down altogether. When I was again ready to
fire, the buffalo was on its knees, with its hind-legs doubled
in under it, in the bed of the gully a few yards below me, and
Elani was under its great neck between its nose and its chest,
with one arm outstretched and his right hand on the buffalo's
shoulder, so that I had to shoot carefully for fear of hitting
it.
"Elani then pushed himself with his feet free of the buffalo,
whilst I stood where I was, ready to put in another shot if
necessary, and it was, for the brave and determined bull
partially recovered from the shocks its nervous system had
received, though the mists of death were already in its eyes."
Another bullet finished this gallant old bull. Elani the Somali
was little the worse for his severe handling.
Selous spent the autumn of 1912 quietly at home or shooting with
friends.
Writing to Chapman, September 26th, 1912, he says: "Don't worry
about our visit to Hexham the other day. We got through the time
quite easily. I can always pass an hour or two reading, very
comfortably, but what I dislike more than anything else in
English life is the crowds of people everywhere.... The crowds
spoil all the pleasure of going to a cricket- or football-match
or a theatre. It is always such a trouble getting away. I am
already longing to be in Africa again. If only Mrs. Selous would
be happy there, I would rather live in East Africa than in this
country."
His mother[65] was still alive at Longford House, Gloucester, but
getting old and feeble. He visited her in December, 1912. On December
7th, 1912, he was in Devonshire, shooting pheasants at MacMillan's
place. "We got two fine days' shooting," he writes to Chapman, "but at
the best, pheasant shooting is a very inferior sport to the pursuit of
the grouse and the blackcock on the wild free moors of Northumberland.
May I live to renew my acquaintance with them next year."
Never did the spring come round but it always filled Selous with new
delight, and then he used to write me long letters of the arrival of the
birds and the advent of the early flowers. His joy was great when the
Wrynecks took to his nesting-boxes in the garden, the Long-eared Owls
nested in the woods close by, or the rare Dartford Warbler was seen
again in its old haunts. Thus, on April 15th, he says:--
"I was very disappointed not to see you yesterday, as I was
looking forward to a good crack with you. I have not yet heard
the cuckoo, but the cuckoo's mate has been here in the garden
since April 2nd. There are several pairs of snipe on Whitmoor
Common (just below Worplesdon village) this year. They are now
in full 'bleat.' There are also a number of Redshanks, the first
I have ever seen here."
We used often to go out and look for nests in the commons, hedgerows,
and woods at Worplesdon, and it was now a sorrow to him that he could no
longer, owing to a slight deafness, recognize the notes of birds at a
distance. These nests, when found, he never touched, as he had already
got specimens of the eggs of all common birds, but the joy of hunting
was always present, and he never tired of watching the habits of birds,
even though he knew them well.
In the early part of 1913, Selous made a little trip to Jersey and
Normandy, to visit the home of his ancestors, in whose history he always
showed a lively interest. He wrote a long account of this to President
Roosevelt, who replied as follows (April 2nd, 1913):--
"I was greatly interested in your account of your visit to the
home of your people in the Channel Islands, and then to
Normandy. Of course, the Channel Islands are the last little
fragment of the old Duchy of Normandy. I was always pleased by
the way in which their people, when they drink the health of the
King, toast him as 'The Duke.' It is the one fragment of the
gigantic British Empire which owes fealty to the Royal House of
England primarily as the representative of the still older ducal
line of Normandy. Moreover, the people of the Channel Islands
have always seemed to me, like the French Huguenots, to combine
the virile virtues of the northern races with that quality of
fineness and distinction which are far more apt to be found in
France--at least in old France--than among our northern Teutonic
peoples.
"Indeed, those cathedrals represent the greatest architecture
this world ever saw, with the sole exception of Greece at its
best. All that you say about the Normans is true. What they
accomplished in government, in war, in conquest, in
architecture, was wonderful beyond description. No adequate
explanation of the Norman achievements during the eleventh and
twelfth centuries has ever been or ever can be made. As you say,
it was their conquest of England and the Scotch lowlands that
gave to the English their great push forward; and they gave this
push in many different lands. The handful of Norman adventurers
who went to Italy fifty years before the conquest of England
speedily conquered South Italy and Sicily and part of Greece,
and ruled over Saracen, Italian and Byzantine alike. The handful
of Norman adventurers who conquered Ireland, thereby for the
first time brought that country into the current of European
affairs. It was the Normans to whom we owe the great 'Song of
Roland.' They formed principalities and dukedoms in the Holy
Land and the Balkan Peninsula. They set their stamp on the whole
contemporary culture of Western Europe, just as their kinsfolk,
who, as heathens, conquered heathen Russia, were the first to
organize the Slav communities of Eastern Europe. In a way, the
action of the Normans in the eleventh and twelfth centuries (for
by the thirteenth century their importance had vanished)
represented the continuation, culmination, and vanishing of the
tremendous Norse or Scandinavian movement which began about the
year 800, and ended in the latter part of the eleventh century,
when its Norman offshoot was at the zenith of its power and
influence. There are many things about these people and their
movements which are hard to explain. Wherever the Norsemen went,
they became completely merged with the people they conquered,
and although they formed a ruling caste they lost all trace of
their own language and traditions. The Norse invaders became
Sicilians in Sicily, Russians in Russia, Frenchmen in Normandy,
Irishmen in Ireland, English- and Scotchmen in Great Britain.
They furnished kings to England, Scotland and Sicily, and rulers
to a dozen other countries, but they always assimilated
themselves to the conquered people, and their blood must always
have been only a thin strain in the community as a whole. When
the Normans came over to conquer England, I believe that they
represented the fusion, not only of Scandinavians and Franks,
but of the old Gallo-Romans, whose language they took. A great
many of the adventurers were base-born. King William himself was
the bastard son of a tanner's daughter. Cooks and varlets, if
vigorous enough, founded noble families. Quantities of Bretons
and Flemings accompanied the Normans to England. Their language
was purely French, and their culture was the culture of Latin
Europe. They had lost every trace of the Norse language, and
every remembrance of Norse literature and history. In William's
army there seems to be no question that any man of fighting
ability came to the front without any regard to his ancestry,
just as was true of the Vikings from whom the Normans were
descended; yet these people were certainly not only masters of
war and government, but were more cultured, more imaginative,
more civilized and also more enterprising and energetic, not
only than the English but than any of the other peoples among
whom they settled. In England two centuries and a half later,
their tongue had practically been lost; they had been completely
absorbed, and were typical Englishmen, and their blood must have
been but a thin thread in the veins of the conquerors of Cressy
and Agincourt. Yet this thin thread made of the English
something totally different from what they had been before, and
from what their kinsmen, the low Dutch of the Continent,
continued to be. It is all absorbingly interesting."
In the spring of 1913 Selous decided to take a hunt in Iceland to
collect the eggs of the various northern species of birds, and in this I
was fortunately able to be of some assistance to him, as I had ridden
nearly 1000 miles there in 1899, to study the bird-life of the island.
Wherefore I was able to give him accurate information of the various
nesting-localities, and where each species was to be found in the summer
months. Of only one bird, the Grey Phalarope, I could tell him nothing,
but he and his friend, Heatley Noble, were so industrious that they
found it breeding on the south coast of the island and secured eggs.
[Illustration: BULL MOOSE ABOUT TO LIE DOWN.]
Of this trip, Heatley Noble, an intimate and well-loved friend of
Selous, kindly sends me the following notes:--
"Well do I remember our first meeting, which was destined to
prove the beginning of a close friendship of more than twenty
years--I was working on the lawn when I saw a picturesque figure
dressed in shooting-clothes and the ever-present 'sombrero'
walking towards me. Off came the hat and 'Good morning, sir, my
name is Selous. I am just beginning to arrange my collection of
eggs and was advised at the Natural History Museum to call on
you, as they say your method of keeping a collection was good.'
"How odd it seemed to me that this hero of a thousand
hairbreadth escapes should start egg-collecting once more at his
time of life (he was then about forty-five). I was soon to learn
that the energy he has always thrown into his hunting-trips was
to be given equally to this new pursuit--it was not really new,
as he had collected as a boy at Rugby, and in Germany, but years
spent away from home had seriously damaged the spoils of early
days. I showed him my collection, and on hearing that he wanted
to start with even the commonest species, we went off and
collected what nests I knew. How interested I was to see the
care with which this man, who could handle four-bore rifles as
tooth-picks, yet retained the delicacy of touch which enabled
him to wrap in cotton-wool such small eggs as those of Blue Tits
and Chiffchaffs! He told me he was off to Asia Minor for a few
days, and then on to the plains of Hungary. This programme would
have been sufficient for most men, but there were some days to
spare, the season was short, so I recommended him to go to the
Isles of Scilly; the owner being an old friend, I was sure I
could get him leave. He went, and subsequently wrote me a long
letter mentioning all the different species he had found, which
fairly made my mouth water!
"Unlike some collectors, Fred Selous, if he knew where a good
thing was to be found, made it his delight to share that
knowledge. Perhaps to the detriment of the species, but greatly
to the joy of his friends. Jealousy was unknown to him, his
pleasure was always to help others, regardless of trouble; had
he been to any part of the world where you had not, he would
make it his business to give you the minutest details so that
you could go there almost blindfold! I know this from personal
experience, as it was thanks to him I went birds'-nesting into
Andalusia and Hungary, besides many little trips in these Isles.
If he had been lucky with some rare species in a foreign
country, he would press his duplicates on anyone interested, and
more than this, it was difficult to prevent him handing out eggs
he really could not spare. His own large collection was purely
personal. I believe there were only some Bearded Vultures' eggs
in it that he did not take with his own hands. These came from
Sardinia, where he had been after Mouflon--he had seen the
birds, but was too soon for eggs. If I found a nest on this
property which he wanted, he would never let me take the eggs
and send them to him, he would bicycle over to lunch
(twenty-three miles each way) and take them with his own hands!
"I had long wished to visit Iceland on a nesting-trip, and in
the early spring of 1913, wrote asking Selous if he would come.
To my great joy I found that he had already arranged to go
there, and it was soon fixed up that we should go together. What
a glorious time we had, and how much I owe to his companionship,
invariable good temper and knowledge of travel! The ship we went
out in was a smelly beastly thing, the weather cold, sea rough
and food vile. The latter bothered Fred not at all, he often
said he could live on any food that would support a human being,
and from subsequent experience I believe he was right. He liked
some things better than others, but anything would do. I only
saw him beaten once; we had had an eight-hour ride in vile
weather, at last we arrived at the farm where we were to spend
the night. Fred loved meat, and our host produced a plate of
stuff that might have been thin slices of mutton. Fred attacked
it, and I watched developments! In place of the Aldermanic smile
I expected, the face contracted, the mouth opened, a sharp word
escaped, and later on the first course of his dinner turned out
to be pickled Guillemot of the previous season! But to return to
our ship. Fred didn't smoke, the rest of the company did to a
man, rank Danish cigars, which made even a good sailor wish he
had never left home. We were driven into the dining saloon, the
only place where there was some peace, though the smell of
ponies and cod took the place of vile cigars. Here Fred used to
spend his day reading, his favourite book being 'Tess of the
D'Urbervilles.' One day he complained bitterly of the light, and
for the first time I noticed that this wonderful man was reading
small print without glasses--aged, I think, sixty-three, and as
long-sighted as anyone I ever met. All things come to an end in
time, and after what seemed a month, and was really three days,
we arrived at Reykjavik, starting the following day on our trip.
The first trek was a short one, only twenty miles, but quite
long enough for me, as next day I could hardly climb on the
pony, whereas Selous jumped on like a boy, and during the whole
of our journey, above 1000 miles on pony back, never once felt
stiffness. We did well from an ornithological point of view,
finding some forty-six different kinds of nests, and bringing
home over 1000 eggs, _not one_ of which was broken, thanks
mostly to the careful packing of our friend. Selous had the
greatest objection to getting his feet wet unnecessarily, and
when crossing those rapid rough rivers would take his feet out
of the stirrups and somehow curl them up behind him, it was a
wonderful performance, and how he kept his balance with the pony
stumbling and regaining his feet as only an Icelander can,
fairly beat me. Once, when crossing an extra bad place, full of
boulders and in a flooded condition, his pony got on the top of
a flat rock under water; when he went to crawl down on the other
side, there was the inevitable hole from back-wash--down went the
pony, the jerk pulling Fred over on to his ears--I thought he
must have fallen into the boiling cauldron--No; a short
scramble, the pony righted himself and there was Fred as
peaceful as ever, didn't even look round! When we were safe on
the far side, I said to him, 'If you had gone off then, you
would not have stopped till you got to the sea.' His reply was,
'Yes, but I didn't.'
"I was very anxious to get on to the Island of Grimsey, one of
the European breeding places of the Little Auk. It is situated
some sixty-five miles from Akureyri, and I was told motor
fishing-boats went there sometimes. I told our guide to
telephone on and find out if such a boat could be hired, the
reply came back that a small one would be available. The terms
were settled, and the boat was to be ready the following
evening, to start by 9 p.m. About 8 o'clock, we went to the quay
to inspect our ship, when to my horror I was shown a
single-cylinder thing not as large as a moderate Thames
pleasure-launch, a free-board about 10 inches, no cabin, no
deck. I'm bound to confess my heart failed me, it didn't seem
quite good enough to trust ourselves to a sixty-five mile trip
in a little tub with two youths (one of whom had a withered
hand) and a very doubtful looking compass! Not so Fred, he never
raised the least objection to a North Sea trip in a ship
dependent on a single plug, which might become sooty any moment!
In due time we started, and after watching the midnight sun, my
shipmate remarked, 'I think I shall turn in.' 'Turn in where?'
'Oh, the cockpit will do.' It was full of rusty old chains, he
could just get into it and lie curled up in a sort of knot on
the rug, and here he passed a dreamless night, never moving
until I called him as the boat touched land about 8.30 a.m. On
landing, the first thing was to find out where the Little Auk
might breed. The Parson told us he knew a man skilled in such
matters. With a total population of 72 souls, 13 of which were
belonging to the Parson, it ought not to be difficult to find
the tastes of any unit of the congregation (especially after
eighteen years' residence). In a short time a fisherman arrived
with a coil of rope and a crowbar; the latter he drove into the
ground, tied the rope to it and heaved the end over the rock.
Our friendly Parson then waved towards the sea, remarking,
'There you are, how do you like it? The birds breed in the rocks
at the bottom.' Honestly I did _not_ like it, but Fred remarked,
'Thank you, that will do well,' and without another word seized
the rope and was soon at the bottom. I _had_ to follow, the
Parson looking down from the top very much like the picture of
Nebuchadnezzar looking down at Daniel in the lions' den. The
Little Auk was not there, only Puffins inhabited that part of
the island, and we had to regain the top as best we could. Later
on we were shown a spot where the bird really did breed, and two
eggs rewarded us for the long journey. We left again the same
evening in a thick fog, Selous curling himself up once more on
the rusty chains, and utterly oblivious to the fact that it was
just a toss-up if our helmsman ever found the mainland again or
not. A short time after this event we were resting at a
farmhouse, and as usual asked if the boys knew of any nests. One
of them replied that there was a Merlin's nest with five eggs in
some rocks a few miles from the farm. Off we started, and all
went well until we came to the face of a nasty crumbling steep
place. The farm-boy, with only a pair of shoes made from raw
sheepskin, made no bones about it and dashed up to the top. I
was next, and after going up a certain distance could find no
foothold and had to stop where I was. Selous was a little below
me, and, when he reached my none too comfortable seat, I
suggested that it was no place for me, and that the boy who was
at the nest might as well bring down the eggs. This was not
Fred's way of doing things, he simply remarked, 'I think I'll go
a little further.' He did, right up into the nest, returning
with the five eggs, and this too with a pair of long, heavy
Norwegian field-boots on. I felt a proper weakling, but our
friend never once rubbed it in by word or deed. Of side he had
none, and the possibility of hurting anyone's feelings was
absolutely repugnant to him _always_. During our long rides in
Iceland, he told me many things about his life in Africa in the
earlier days. How I wish I could have taken down the stories he
related! To hear him talk was like listening to someone reading
a book. He was never at a loss for a word or the name of a
place. Perhaps we would have been riding together in silence for
some time, then Fred would turn round with the remark, 'Do you
know,' he then would start and tell me something of his early
days in Africa, what may never have been published, things he
did for which _others_ got the praise. I fear this most
unselfish of men was far too often made use of. Not that Selous
did not see through the schemes of various impostors; he did,
but as he would never have done a dirty trick to a living soul,
he could not believe they would to him. His fondness for tea was
a fine advertisement for this indigestible drink. He told me
that in his early camping days in Africa, he used to throw a
handful of tea in the pot before starting off to hunt, let it
simmer all day, freshening it with another handful in the
evening. The tea-leaves were never emptied! The first time he
stayed with me I saw him making very bad weather of a glass of
champagne; on asking if he would prefer something else, the
prompt reply came--'Tea.' Ever after that he was provided with
his pet drink, and it used to interest me to see how he
invariably left the spoon in the cup, a relic of old veldt days
where manners were unknown. Fred's ideas on food were different
to most people's. One evening after a wretched eight hours' ride
in pouring cold rain, just as we neared the farm where we were
to rest, I said, 'How would you like to dine with me at the Ritz
to-night? A little clear soup, a grilled sole, lamb cutlets and
green peas, mushrooms on toast and a bottle of Champagne 94?'
'Thanks very much, but if I had my choice of what I should like
best, it would be good fat moose and tea.'
"I think it was not generally known that Selous held strong
views about what he called Psychic Force, for during the whole
of our long friendship I only once heard him let himself go on
this subject, and I am bound to confess that coming from a man
like him whose every word was truth, anyone who heard him relate
what he had seen take place in his own home with only his
brothers and sisters present, could not but help owning that he
was in the presence of something beyond his understanding. His
conversation was always worth listening to, but like all brave
men, it was difficult to get him to talk. If he liked those
present, he would often delight his audience and yarn on for
hours, if he didn't, he was civility and politeness itself, but
no yarns! His little sayings, without _an atom_ of side, always
amused me. The last time but one that I saw him when on leave, I
remarked on his close-cropped beard. 'Yes,' he said, 'it looked
so white in the bush, they seemed as if they were always
shooting at it.'
"When war broke out I had not seen him for some little time. I
was killing rabbits in the park, and on looking up saw Fred. He
was furious, he had hoped to be sent to France as a 'Guide,' but
the scheme fell through, and he feared he would not get a job.
How cross he was! Shortly after I received a wire that he was
coming over to lunch. He arrived radiant as a boy home from
school, the reason being that he was to go to Africa with a
contingent of 150 men with the rank of lieutenant, at the age of
sixty-three! And yet there are conscientious shirkers who _also_
call themselves 'Englishmen.' The last time I saw him he lunched
here on the way from Gloucester when he had been to say good-bye
to his boy in the Flying Corps, and was just starting for his
return to Africa. In the midst of all he had to do, and the rush
of settling his affairs, he heard of our own trouble. Sitting
down at once, he found time to write one of the most
sympathetic, charming letters one pal may write to another. It
came straight from that great heart which knew no fear, but
loved his neighbour far better than himself."
Of the trip to Iceland Selous writes to Chapman (July 26th, 1913):--
"Just a line to tell you that Heatley Noble and I got back from
Iceland a few days ago. We had a lot of cold, disagreeable
weather, but got a nice lot of eggs; indeed, practically
everything that one can get in Iceland, except the Purple
Sandpiper. When we got to where they were, it was too late, and
we only found a pair with young. We got some eggs which were
taken a fortnight earlier. We found the Red-necked Pharalope
breeding in hundreds at Myvatn and other places, and we also
took several clutches of Grey Pharalope which we found breeding
in some numbers in two districts. We got all the Iceland ducks
at and near Myvatn, including the Harlequin, Barrow's Golden
Eye, Scaup, Long-tailed Duck, Scoter and several others. Whooper
Swans were plentiful in some parts of the south and west, but
not in the north, and we saw a good many Great Northern Divers,
and got several clutches of eggs. We went out to the island of
Grimsey, thirty miles north of the north coast of Iceland and
just within the Arctic circle, and got the eggs of the Little
Auk there; and also Snow Buntings, which were extraordinarily
abundant on the island. Redwings and Mealy Redpolls we got in
the birch scrub in the north. But I will tell you all about our
trip when we meet. The boys came home on Wednesday, and we are
all going to Scotland on August 9th. I don't yet know when the
show will come on at which I shall have to speak, but I hope
that it will not be before October. I found the Sandpipers' and
Wheatears' eggs on my arrival home."
In August and September he went to Scotland for the grouse-shooting,
which he enjoyed, but which never seemed to fill the place in his mind
of Africa. He was always thinking of the land of sunshine, and says to
Chapman (September 9th, 1913):--
"During the long waits at grouse-driving the other day, I was
always wishing myself in the forests on the slopes of Mount
Kenia, collecting butterflies, for there every moment was full
of excitement. I am sorry to tell you that my dear old mother's
health--she is now in her eighty-eighth year--is such that it
will henceforth be impossible for me to leave England again on
any long trip during her lifetime. She is not ill, but she has
lost strength terribly during the last three months, and I do
not think her life can be much further prolonged. So now all
hope of going to the Sudan this winter is gone, and as at my age
every year tells heavily against me, I doubt whether I shall
ever get a giant Eland for the Natural History Museum."
Abel Chapman at this time asked Selous to go with him to the Sudan, but
Selous could not go then, as he had business with his mother's will,
but suggested he might possibly join him in February, 1914, down the
Nile below the sudd.
In November, 1913, he went to Rugby to give a lecture, and to see his
boy Freddy, of whom he was very proud. To Chapman he says:--
"I went there yesterday (Rugby) to see the football match
against Cheltenham College. Freddy played for Rugby. He has
played in every out match for the school this term, against the
Old Guard, the Oxford A, the old Rugbeians, and Cheltenham
College, so I think he is now definitely in the first fifteen.
As he is now only fifteen years of age, and will not be sixteen
till April 21st next, I think that is rather good; indeed, I
think he must be the youngest boy in the school fifteen, and so
may some day be Captain of the Rugby fifteen. He plays forward,
and weighed 11 stone 10 lbs."
Young Fred Selous was a true son of his father, and very like him in
many ways. He had the same charm and modesty of manner, and had he lived
would have gone far, and no doubt made his mark in the world. But it was
not to be, for he gave his life for his country on January 4th, 1918, on
the same day one year later than the death of his father. He was
educated at Bilton Grange and Rugby, where he proved to be an excellent
athlete, being in the Running VIII, and in 1915 Captain of the Rugby XV.
He entered Sandhurst in September, 1915, and on leaving in April, 1916,
was gazetted to the Royal East Surrey Regiment and attached to the
R.F.C. Very soon he developed exceptional ability as a flying officer.
In July, 1916, he went to the front and was awarded both the Military
Cross and the Italian Silver Medal of Military Valour. My friend,
Lieutenant Edward Thornton, was flying close to Freddy Selous on the
fatal day, and states:--
"I was up at 15,000 ft. over the German lines, when I saw
Captain Selous take a dive at a German machine some 2000 feet
below. What actually happened I do not know, but all at once I
saw both wings of the machine collapse, and he fell to the earth
like a stone."
The major commanding Freddy's squadron thus wrote to his bereaved
mother:--
"It is a severe blow to the squadron to lose him, for he was
beloved by officers and men alike. In fact, his popularity
extended to a much greater area than his own aerodrome. In the
short time that I have known him I have been struck with the
courage and keenness of your son--always ready for his jobs, and
always going about his work with the cheeriest and happiest of
smiles. He was the life and soul of the mess."
The second son of Selous and his wife is Harold Sherborne Selous, who
will be nineteen in October, 1918. He was educated at Radley College,
and is at present in the Officers' Cadet Battalion at Pirbright, and
expects to take a commission shortly.
FOOTNOTES:
[58] The collection of Birds and Mammals made by the Roosevelt
expedition is now for the most part in the American Museum of Natural
History at New York and at Washington. It is probably the best
collection ever made by one expedition in Africa, and the book which the
President wrote--"African Game Trails"--will always remain one of the
best works of reference on the subject.
[59] President Roosevelt realised his hopes. In two days, between Sir
Alfred Pease's farm and the railway (Kapiti Plains), he and his son
Kermit killed seven lions. They also killed several others in the Sotik.
[60] Mr. Edward North Buxton also did much to help the President in his
forthcoming trip.
[61] Selous gave a full account of his trip in articles in the "Field,"
July-September, 1911.
[62] George Grey, brother of Lord Grey of Falloden, an excellent hunter
and charming personality. He was killed by a lion on Sir Alfred Pease's
estate in 1910.
[63] Selous, like all other good sportsmen, cherished a warm
appreciation for the "Field" newspaper. Mr. J. E. Harting, the Natural
History and Shooting Editor, was an old and much valued friend.
[64] See "The Field," June 8th, 1912.
[65] She died peacefully in 1913.