Chapter II (2)

"He was extraordinarily acute in all his senses--sight, hearing,
smell, taste. He asked me, for example, one day to some brook a
few miles away to watch kingfishers. We crawled up warily when
we got near the spot. He could see exactly what they were
catching and carrying, from a distance at which I could only see
a bird flying. His power of hearing was also more than acute.
One day at our table in hall I told a lady who sat next me that
a nightingale had been heard singing in somebody's spinney. We
decided to drive down to it after dinner, and on reaching the
spot, we found Selous already there, roaming about in the
spinney. I called to him, and he came to the edge of the wood.
'What are you doing there?' 'Looking for a nightingale's nest,
sir.' 'But why here?' 'I heard you say at dinner that one was
singing here.' Now he was sixteen or eighteen feet away, at a
different table, and we were fifty in hall, talking and
clattering with knives and forks. And yet he heard me
distinctly. He could disentangle the voices, and listen to one,
as a dog can follow one scent among many. Then as to smell and
taste. He told me that when he shot a new bird with his
'tweaker'--you will learn presently what the 'tweaker' was in
his case--he always _tasted_ its flesh.

"He was extremely accurate in his observation, and in his
estimates of distance, size, number, etc.; in fact, he was the
most truthful observer I can imagine; free from all exaggeration
and egotism, and he retained this simplicity and accuracy and
modesty all his life. He was a beautiful runner, a
football-player with singular dash and a first-rate swimmer; but
he left Rugby at seventeen, I think, so that he did not win any
great athletic distinctions at school.

"But I must tell you some stories about him.

"On some great public occasion of rejoicing the streets of Rugby
were decorated with flags. When my man called me at 7.0 a.m., he
said, 'I think I ought to tell you, sir, that there is a
broomstick and duster showing in every chimney in the house.'
'Very well,' I replied, 'go and tell Mr. Selous that they must
be taken down by 12 o'clock.' He had let himself down at night
out of the dormitory window that looks into the study quadrangle
and had collected brooms and dusters from the studies. He had
somehow clambered up waterpipes and gutters and roofs,
broomsticks and all; and when I went out people in the road were
admiring our extemporized decorations--duster flags and
broom-handles sticking out of the chimney pots at all angles.
There was another flag, of the same nature, perilously near the
top of the taller of two poplars that stood close to the boys'
entrance. They were all taken down by dinner-time; I never
enquired how, or by whom.

"There used to be a vine, trained up the south face of the
house, and one year, I think in 1868, it bore an extraordinary
crop of grapes which ripened beautifully. One day at dinner I
told the head of the dormitory on the second floor, over the
drawing-room, that they might gather all that they could reach
from the window. _I forgot Selous_ as this was not his bedroom,
but the dormitory did not forget him. An aunt of mine was
sleeping in the bedroom below, and she remarked next morning at
breakfast that she heard, or thought she heard, voices at night
quite close to her windows. Had anything happened? I went out
into the garden to look, the vine was stripped more than
half-way down the windows of the first floor. It was Selous, of
course; they let him down somehow. I was told that he filled a
pillow-case with grape-bunches, and feasted the House. Mr. C. K.
Francis, the well-known Metropolitan Police Magistrate, his
contemporary in my house, has told this story of Selous to the
readers of the 'Daily Telegraph' (January 15th), and says that
they let Selous down in a blanket.

"Of course Selous was an active member of the School Natural
History Society. I must tell you about a meeting of that
Society. Dr. Walter Flight, who was in charge of the minerals of
the British Museum, was staying with me, and I asked him whether
he would like to come as a visitor to an ordinary meeting of our
Society. I knew it would be an interesting one. Selous had
shortly before raided the heronry on the island at Coombe Abbey.
He swam the pond from the end distant from the house, climbed
several trees, took one egg from each nest, swam back and was
chased, but escaped by sheer speed. Lord Craven complained to
the H.M. The H.M. warned our Society pretty plainly, and our
committee censured Selous. At the meeting we were going to
attend, Selous, as was widely known, was going to make his
defence. The room, the old Fifth Form Room, next to the School
House Dining Hall, was crowded. Flight and I squeezed in. 'Are
your meetings always like this?' he asked. 'You will see,' I
replied, 'that the school takes a great interest in natural
history.' 'I am very glad to see this,' he said.

"Exhibits were made, a paper read, and then began the real
business of the evening--the official condemnation by our
president, Mr. Kitchener, and Selous' spirited defence.

"Selous presented the eggs to the Natural History Society, and
they were safe in the collection twenty years ago, I am told. I
hope they are there still.

"He also climbed the great elm trees, which then stood in the
close, for rooks' eggs. This feat was also performed at night,
and the cawing of the rooks roused Dr. Temple, but Selous was
not detected in the darkness.

"Selous' special contribution to our Society was on birds. If I
remember right his first list of birds noted at Rugby exceeded
ninety. I will tell the story how one very rare bird was added
to our list. It was in the very hard winter of 1867; snow was
lying on the ground. In the evening, some hours after lock-up a
ring at the front door came at the moment I was going to my
study, the door of which is close to the front door. I opened
the front door and there stood Selous, with a bird dangling from
his hand. I don't know which of us was most surprised. 'Come in
to the study; what have you got there?' 'Oh, sir, it's
Williamson's duck; it's very rare.' (I invent the name
Williamson, I know it was somebody's duck.) 'Go and fetch the
bird-book from the House Library.' (I had put an excellent
bird-book in several volumes into the Library for his use.)
'Leave the bird.' I examined the bird, neatly shot through the
neck. He was quite right, a note in the book said that it had
been occasionally seen at certain places on the East coast; only
once, I think, inland as far as Northamptonshire. 'How did you
get it?' 'I saw it at Swift's and followed it to Lilbourne and
got it there.' 'How?' 'With my tweaker,' was the reply. 'It must
be a very powerful tweaker?' I said. 'Yes, sir, it's a very
strong one; I thought you would not mind my being late for once,
as it's very rare.'

"Some six years later, when he came back from a four years'
solitary travel and exploration in what is now called Rhodesia,
or even further inland, this incident of the tweaker turned up.
'I did wonder,' he said, 'whether you were such an innocent as
really to believe it was a tweaker.' 'My dear Selous,' I said,
'I knew the bird was shot, and I knew you had a gun, and the
farmhouse where you kept it, but you kept it so dark and made
such excellent use of it that I said nothing about it.'

"One of the most difficult problems presented to all who are in
authority is: how much ought I _not_ to know and see?"

"I think it was on this occasion that he came down to a
house-supper. He had told me lots of stories about his
adventures in Africa during those four years. They are told in
his books, every one of which is, I hope, in the School Library
and well read. I asked him to tell some of them to the house. No
he would not; so finally at the supper, I said that if he would
not, I would, and I began with the story of his going to ask
Lobengula, King of the Matabele, for leave to shoot elephants.
'You are only a boy,' the King said. 'You must shoot birds. The
first elephant you hunt will kill you.' Selous jumped up. 'Oh,
sir, let me tell it,' and we had a never-to-be-forgotten
evening.

"But it is time to stop. One of his friends, Sir Ralph Williams,
well said of him in a letter in 'The Times,' of January 10th,
'The name of Fred Selous stands for all that is straightest and
best in South African story,' and I will venture to say that it
stands for the same in Rugby annals.

"J. M. WILSON.
"Worcester, 22 _January_, 1917."

In August, 1868, at the age of seventeen, Selous left Rugby and went to Neuchatel, in Switzerland, where he lived at the "Institution Roulet." He spent his time learning French and the violin and commenced his studies to be a doctor, for which profession he evinced no enthusiasm. Writing to his mother in November, he says:--

"As for my future medical examinations I don't know how I shall
come off; I do not want particularly to be a doctor, but I shall
go in for that as I can't see anything else that I should like
better, except sheep-farming or something of that sort in one of
the colonies, but I suppose I must give up that idea; however,
if I become a surgeon I do not intend to try and get a practice
in England, but I should try and get a post as ship's surgeon,
or army surgeon in India, if I could get any leave of absence
which would give me a little time to myself, but anyhow I am
certain I shall never be able to settle down quietly in England.
You talked about me being at an age of irresponsibility, but I
don't see that I am, as supposing I don't manage to learn these
infernal languages (why was anyone fool enough to build the
tower of Babel?) everyone will be disgusted with me."

In December there was more talk of his going to Dresden to learn German, but he himself voted for Wiesbaden as being more of a country district where he would have more opportunities for shooting and fishing. After a short visit home his father took him to Wiesbaden in the spring of 1869, when he wrote to his sister "Locky":--

"Many thanks for your spiritual letter which almost tempts me to
commit suicide; if I can't get good shooting and fishing in this
world I'll have it in the next, if what the Chinaman says is
true; but by hook or by crook I will have some in this world
too, and make some rare natural history collections into the
bargain. But first I must make a little money, but how? not by
scribbling away on a three-legged stool in a dingy office in
London. I am becoming more and more convinced every day that I
should never be able to stand that and everybody I know or have
ever had anything to do with says the same thing. I have a great
many qualifications for getting on in one of our colonies, viz.
perseverance, energy, and a wonderfully good constitution. What
makes me recur to the old subject is this: I have made the
acquaintance of a family here of the name of K----. I always
forget their name although I know them intimately. This
gentleman, a German from Brunswick, has been twenty years in
Natal (where he made his fortune) and since then eight years in
England, and now has become regularly English (speaking English,
indeed, without the slightest accent). His wife is an
Englishwoman who was born in the Cape Colony, but has always
lived with him in Natal; and then he has a very large family.
These people give the most splendid accounts of Natal. Firstly,
they say that the climate is superb, there being no winter and
it not being so hot in summer as in Germany. Then they say that
the country is lovely beyond description. They do not praise
Cape Colony, only Natal, which they describe as a perfect
paradise. They say, too, that Natal itself is a wonderfully gay
place and that the society there is very good. The wife says she
can't stand Europe at all, the climate is so detestable
compared with that of Natal. She says that she often used to go
for weeks and weeks up country with her husband and children on
shooting excursions, sleeping out in tents all the time, and
that taking into consideration the beautiful climate and country
there is no enjoyment equal to it, and I am fully of her
opinion. They travelled once three days with Dr. Livingstone,
but you will hear all about it from them when you come over
here."

He arrived at Wiesbaden in September and took up his residence with Herr Knoch, who lived in the Roderallee. In December he met the Colchester family, with whom he became great friends.

At this time he enjoyed the music every afternoon at the Kursaal, and was amused in the evening to see the gambling that went on. One night a Russian lost 100,000 francs. "What an April fool!" is Selous' only comment. He had at this time a nice dog named Bell, to whom he was much attached. He is always writing for trout-flies, or books on sport or natural history. "I wouldn't care to go to Rome and see the Holy Week, but I should like to go to Russia, Sweden, or some other country where some shooting or fishing is to be had, but I must be patient and make some money, though I don't know how. Yesterday I went down to the Rhine, after my German and music lessons, but only brought back three small fish. A few days ago an officer was shot dead in a duel at Mayence. Verdict, 'Serve him right.'"

Miss Colchester thus recalls certain incidents of Selous' life at Wiesbaden. "As showing his sporting nature, I may mention that he swam the Rhine near Biebrich to retrieve a wild duck he had shot for us. It was blocked with ice at the time, but that did not daunt him. One day we were all skating on the frozen waters of the Kursaal Gardens when the ice suddenly broke up and I was thrown into the deep water. Without a moment's hesitation Fred jumped in and supported me under the arms until help came. He was a dear boy and we all loved him."

Selous set himself to learn the language as thoroughly as he could in the time at his disposal, but the cold study of German verbs was hard for a boy of seventeen with the spring in his bones and the sun glinting on the forest oaks.

When summer came young Selous spent all his spare time chiefly with his friend Colchester, roving the woods and opens in search of birds'-nests and butterflies. The woods in the neighbourhood of Wiesbaden were, as is usual in Germany, strictly preserved and, therefore, being forbidden ground, offered an especial attraction to the young naturalist. On two of these forays he had been stopped and warned by a forester named Keppel, who though an oldish man was immensely active and powerful. From him Selous had several narrow escapes, but the day of reckoning was at hand. In the heart of the forest Selous had one day observed a pair of honey-buzzards, which being frequently seen afterwards about the same spot, he concluded must have a nest somewhere. These birds are somewhat uncommon even in Germany, and Selous naturally longed to find the nest and take the eggs. At last one day he and Colchester found the nest on the top of a high fir tree, but on climbing up to it Selous observed that there were no eggs. A few days later the two marauders set off at dawn and again approached the nest, Colchester being left at the foot of the tree to keep watch. Selous was in the act of descending the tree when Keppel suddenly appeared and by his words and actions showed that he was in a furious rage.

"Now I shall take you to prison," he roared, as he seized hold of the coat in which Selous had hidden the two eggs he had taken.

By this time, however, the fighting spirit was aroused on both sides, for Selous had no intention either of being captured or resigning his treasures quietly. A fierce struggle ensued in which the coat was torn in half, when at last Selous, losing his temper, gave the old forester a right-hander on the jaw which dropped him like a felled ox.

The boys were now alarmed and for a moment Selous thought he must have killed the man, but as he showed signs of recovering they took to their heels and ran home with all possible speed. Since complications were bound to follow Selous at once consulted a lawyer, who advised him to pack up his traps and leave Prussia. Accordingly he took the train and went to Salzburg in Austria, where he knew he would be beyond the power of German courts. Selous' chief sorrow over the unfortunate affair seems to be that he lost his rare eggs.

Soon after he arrived at Salzburg Selous heard that his friend, Charley Colchester, who had escaped to Kronberg, but was followed and arrested, had been condemned to a week's imprisonment (without the option of a fine) for taking eggs on two occasions.

"If I had been caught," writes Selous, "I should have got two or
three months instead of a week's imprisonment, for both the
lawyer and the Burgomaster to whom I spoke, said that the taking
of eggs was but a small matter in the eyes of Prussian law
compared with resisting an official."

The Austrian with whom he lived at Salzburg seems to have been a pleasant fellow named Rochhart, who had travelled much in Greece and America. Selous seems to have liked the genial Austrians far better than the Prussians and especially enjoyed the Tyrolese music and the butterfly hunting in the woods when the weather was fine. Writing to his mother (July 5th, 1870), he speaks of his enthusiasm as a collector:--

"Why I feel the absence of the sun so very acutely is because,
when the sun is not shining no butterflies, or none worth
having, are to be got. Now this is just the time for the Purple
Emperors, some specimens of which I want very much to get, and
so I have been exceedingly provoked. I found out the place where
the P.E.'s were to be found and for the last seven days I have
been every day to that place (which is from five to six miles
from Salzburg) and there I have waited from twelve to three,
through rain and everything else, hoping and hoping for a
passing sunbeam, as I could see them every now and then at the
tops of the trees, and if the sun had but come out for a few
minutes some of them would have been sure to have come down and
settled in the road. Well, during all the hours of watching in
those seven days the sun never, never, never broke through the
clouds for one instant, and each day I returned home more
disappointed and more indignant against providence than the day
before. I think that if this sort of thing had continued for
another week I should have gone into a chronic state of
melancholy and moroseness for the rest of my life, and people
would have said, 'Ah, he must have had some great disappointment
in early life.' These are the sort of things that rile me more
than anything else, for you can't think how I put my whole soul
into egg and butterfly collecting when I'm at it, and how I boil
up and over with impotent rage at not being able to attain the
object of my desires on account of the weather over which I have
no control. However, perseverance can struggle against anything.
This afternoon the sun shone out and I immediately caught two
Purple Emperors (_Apatura Iris_), and two very similar
butterflies unknown in England (_Apatura Ilia_), also a great
many White Admirals (_Limenitis Camilla_), not quite the same as
the English White Admiral (_Limenitis Sybilla_), but very like;
all butterflies well worth having. If the weather will but
continue fine for a few days I will soon make some good
additions to my collection, but it is hopeless work collecting
butterflies in bad weather. I think I must be set down as a
harmless lunatic by the peasants in the neighbourhood already."

Selous was not long at Salzburg before he found an old chamois hunter and poacher, with whom he made frequent excursions into the neighbouring mountains. On one of these trips he killed two chamois, and the head of one of these is still in the museum at Worplesdon.

The Franco-German war now began and Selous was greatly incensed that the general feeling in England was in favour of Prussia.

"Vive la France, a bas la Prusse," he writes to his mother (July
22nd, 1870), "your saying the war is 'likely to become a bloody
butchery through all the Christian nations of civilized Europe,'
is rather a startler. Since this morning I have read all the
Cologne and Vienna papers for the last week and you are most
certainly several miles ahead of the most far-seeing and
sanguinary politician, in either Austria or Prussia. You say that
Bavaria has joined Prussia and Austria is likely to do so too.
Bavaria cannot help itself or would not have joined Prussia. The
Crown Prince of Prussia is in Munich with 15,000 Prussian troops,
and the Bavarians are forced by treaty to aid Prussia or they
would not do so. Prussia is the only power that is likely to take
any part in the war at present. Austria most certainly will not
interfere unless she is forced into it. And England and America
are less likely still to do so. The post now goes to England by
Trieste, by sea, of course, and supposing the war does become a
bloody butchery through all the Christian nations of civilized
Europe, an Italian passenger steamer would surely not be meddled
with. Whatever happens, the war cannot come here, for there is
nothing to be fought for in the Tyrol and no room to fight for it
in the mountain valleys if there was. So that the route to
Trieste and from thence to England will always be open. The
people say that in 1866, when the war between Austria and Prussia
was going on, they never knew anything about it here. As for the
money, you can easily send a letter of credit to a bank in
Salzburg or Munich and that difficulty would be got over. For
several months at least it is not at all likely that any other
nation will join either party, England least of all; and
supposing that England were drawn into it eventually, you would
surely be able to tell long before war was declared if such was
likely to be the case, and send me word, for the postal
communications will not be stopped until then via Trieste. It
seems to me most ridiculous to predict so much when so little is
known. Unless you really think in your heart of hearts that it is
necessary for me to come, please let me remain here a few months
longer; England taking part in the war is the only thing that can
stop either letters or myself from reaching you, and surely you
cannot tell me in cold blood that England is likely to be drawn
into the war for months and months to come, at least all the
Prussian papers declare most positively that it is not likely
that either America or England will take any part in the war,
and surely they as a party most intensely interested would say
something about it if they thought that there was the slightest
chance of England assisting. Gladstone, you know, will do his
utmost to keep England neutral. Austria was almost ruined by the
last war, but is now rapidly increasing in wealth and if drawn
into the war would be utterly ruined, so that she will do her
utmost to keep out of it. Why I so particularly wish to remain
here a few months longer is because if I return to England all
the money and time that has been wasted in zither at any rate, if
not violin lessons, will have been utterly thrown away and I
shall lose a pleasure and a pastime that would have lasted me my
whole life. In three or four months more, as I am working very
hard at it, I shall know enough of the zither to do without a
master. The violin is all very well, but it is not an instrument
that one derives much pleasure from playing unaccompanied, unless
one plays extremely well, whereas the zither, like the piano,
needs no accompaniment. The zither I have now is not the little
one you saw at Wiesbaden, but an Austrian zither which is much
larger and tuned lower, and altogether a finer instrument."

He seems to have formed a very accurate estimate of the German character in war. Writing to his mother, October 20th, 1870, he says:--

"I have seen and spoken to several Bavarian soldiers in a
village just beyond the Bavarian frontier, who were at Woerth and
Sedan, and who have been sent back on the sick list; they say
there is a great deal of sickness among the German troops, out
of the 1000 men from the two villages of Schellenberg and
Berchtesgaden who were all in the actions at Woerth and Sedan,
not a single one has as yet been killed, so I was told, though a
great many have been wounded. I see a great deal said in the
English papers about the 'Francs tireurs' being little better
than murderers. I think that the French ought to consider all
the soldiers composing the German armies as so many burglars,
and shoot them down like rabbits in every possible manner; and,
moreover, as the Germans are murdering the peasants, men,
women, and children, for such offences as being in possession
of an old sword, in every direction, I think the French would be
perfectly justified in shooting every German soldier they take
prisoner. After the affair at Bazeilles, I don't believe any
more in the humanity of the Germans."

At this time Selous met an old Hungarian gentleman, who had large farms in Hungary, and offered to take him for two years to learn the business. But his father threw cold water on this project and told his son to remain at Salzburg until he had completed his German education. Accordingly he continued to reside there until June, 1871, when he went on a short visit to Vienna, of which he writes (June 17th, 1871):-

"I think I have seen everything that is to be seen in Vienna.
The crown jewels, which I daresay you have seen, were very
interesting and very magnificent. The Emperor's stables, too, I
thought very interesting; he has an immense number of horses,
some of them very beautiful indeed. We found an English groom
there who had almost forgotten his own language; he had been
away from England nine years, and so it is not to be wondered
at, as I daresay he rarely speaks anything but German and never
reads anything at all. The theatre in Vienna (I mean the new
opera house) is most magnificent. It was only completed in 1868,
so I don't suppose you have ever seen it. I believe it is
acknowledged to be at present the finest theatre in the world.
It is an immense size, almost as large as Covent Garden, and the
decorations inside and out, and the galleries and everything
appertaining to it are most beautiful and tasteful. We saw
'Martha,' 'Tannhaeuser,' and 'Faust' there, and a little sort of
pantomime entitled 'Flick and Flock.' I liked 'Martha' very
much. They have a splendid tenor named Walter, who took the part
of Lionel. I daresay you will hear him in London some day. I
didn't like 'Tannhaeuser' very much; I couldn't understand the
story at all and there were no pretty airs in it. 'Faust' was
splendid, Marguerite and Faust were, I should think, as near
perfection as possible, and Mephistopheles was very good, though
at first he gave me the impression of looking more like a clown
than the devil. The scenery in all these pieces was splendid.
'Flick and Flock' was exactly like an English pantomime with
dumb show. The scenery was really wonderful; there were about
half a dozen transformation scenes, none of which would have
disgraced a London stage on Boxing Night."

In August he arrived home in England, and during the next three months he attended classes at the University College Hospital (London) to gain some knowledge of medical science preparatory to going to Africa.

FOOTNOTE:

[3] Mr. Boughton Leigh.