We are constantly hearing of the hundreds of Americans who laid down
their lives under the French colors. It was part of the debt we owed
France. England, too, when she joined in the war for liberty, found
many Americans hastening to her aid, and among the lives that were
taken under her flag in the “great venture” was that of Harry Butters,
a young Californian whose death in France called forth nation-wide
eulogies in Great Britain.
Young Butters, after a preliminary education at San Francisco, went to
England and entered Beaumont College at Windsor. There amid England’s
rural charms and the spell of England’s old traditions, he learned to
love the country which sheltered him.
At the outbreak of the war, Butters went back to America. He could not
stay, however. There was a call to rise and to go. He went back to
England and enlisted. It was as an officer of the British Army that he
died.
The London _Observer_ voices England’s praise and love of the American:
“This American boy—and what a straight, upstanding pattern of youth
and strength he was—owed us no duty and he gave us all. He gave it
not impulsively nor in adventurous recklessness, but with a settled
enthusiasm belonging to the ‘depth and not the tumult of the soul.’
How much he gave is worth considering. His personal endowments
and opportunities were such that when he made up his mind to quit
everything in his bright California and to come into the war, his
choice was heroic in the fullest sense of that word.
“When he went back to America after leaving college, he was a young
man of mark, framed to excel both in sport and affairs. He was very
tall, supple, active, frank, and comely of face, as gay as he was
good-looking. You saw by a glance at his hands that he had a born
instinct for management and technique. He had been a good deal at
sea. He knew all about horses and motor-cars. He was a crack shot
and a fine polo-player. His business ability was shown as soon as he
took over the management of his father’s estates. With this practical
talent that could turn itself to anything he had other qualities. One
remembers what a delightful, level, measuring glance he used to give
suddenly from under his brows when he had finished rolling a cigarette
and went on with his keen questioning about men and things. To talk
with him was to receive a new and promising revelation of the mind of
young America. Like so many of our own young soldiers in their attitude
toward politics, he was not content with either of the old parties
in the United States. He thought that his own generation, if it was
earnest enough, might make a better hand both of social problems and
world-relations. He hoped to play his part. Although he always thought
of himself in a fine spirit as “an American citizen,” he wanted the
United States to take a full share in the wider life of the world, and
especially to work as far as possible for common ideals with the whole
English-speaking race.