The Silver Fleece an Autobiography.Pdf

9 CTI3 Keep Your Card in Tills Pocket Books wifl be issued only on presentation of proper library cards. Unless labeled otherwise, books may be retained for four weeks. Borrowers finding books marked, defaced or mutilated are ex- pected to report same at library desk; otherwise the last borrower will be held responsible for all imperfections discovered. The card holder is responsible for all books drawn on his card. Penalty for over- due books 2c a day plus cost of notices ; Lost cards and change of residence must be' reported promptly. - PUBLIC LIBRARY Kansas City, lo. feep Ifmr Card in This Pocket THE SILVER FLEECE THE SILVER FLEECE AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY ROBERT COLLIS Decorated by T. G. WILSON DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY, INC. Garden City MCMXXXVH Near sr G A D E 1 U. S. ,toflft# JfjTf .iPfW, R C T Y , N. Y., A, COPYRIGHT; 1936, 1937 SY ROBERT COLLIS ALL aicHTs RESEJIVEO TIRIt RDITIOftl TO MY SONS DERMOT AND ROBERT of all attributes which require imagination \indness needs it most Contents Part One I. CHILDHOOD 3 Part Two II. RUGBY SCHOOL 23 III. EASTER 1916 41 IV. RUGBY CONTINUED 52 V. ARMY 72 Part Three VI. CAMBRIDGE 87 VII. BUCHMAN J06 VIII. YALE 122 IX. TRINITY 157 [vii] CONTENTS Part Four X. MEDICAL STUDENT 167 XL RUGBY FOOTBALL 188 XII. HOUSE-PHYSICIAN 199 " XIII. "THERE IS A TIDE 217 Part Five XIV. A VOYAGE 231 Part Six XV. AMERICA REVISITED 243 XVI. "A.E." 270 XVII. THE CHOICE 279 Eviii] PART OME CHAPTER I Childhood I T is SAID that our reactions in adult life are controlled chiefly by childhood memories which have become sup- pressed into the unconscious mind. It is curious therefore to find in my own case that I have retained vividly certain memories from a very early age which have consciously influenced my actions ever since. One of the earliest of these is associated with the meadow grass in the garden at Kitmore. Before 1 was five I used to lie in the long grass where I had a world of my own: a forest of tall grass stalks and wild-flower stems inhabited by a strange people. When they cut the long grass it used THE SILVER FLEECE to break my heart, and I would beg for certain "particularly if weren't 1 used important" places to be spared-, and they to cry bitterly. I remember the first time I found myself alone in the world. We had gone on a picnic to a wooded valley. I don't know how old I was, but I remember we went in some sort of horse vehicle, and that it was late summer. After the picnic meal I escaped some way from my elders and scrambled up a small wooded hill where the sun was trees. It filtering through the leafy branches of the was mysterious, and I was afraid. I came to a gap in the hedge at the opposite side of the wood and looked out upon a field through which ran a little river, and behind which the mountain rose steeply* Suddenly for the first time in my life I became conscious of beauty. Everything was still I stood gazing at the scene, then turned round and ran back through the wood and down the hill and was taken home. I never tried to tell anybody about what I had seen. Most vivid of all rny childhood memories is the occasion on which I first met with death and destruction. One morn- ing my father and my elder brother took their guns and began to fire at the rooks in the tall elm trees which towered! above the rhododendrons on the wild bank in the garden at Kilmore, The sun was shining and the sea could be seen through the trees. The report of the gun broke into this scene of peace with remorseless violence* A rook fell on the gravel path close to me with a thud, its black feathers rumpled and wet with blood, dying. I ran to it and took it in my arms. I wanted to carry it into the long grass away from its enemies; but suddenly my brother and father saw CHILDHOOD me and laughed, while I stood there helpless before their greater power, blinded by tears. The garden at Kilmore, set amid tall trees on the hill overlooking Killiney Bay, must be one of the most beauti- ful in all the world. To us children it was a safe haven from which we might set forth on unknown adventure, On one side it was bounded by a high wall which separated it from the large grounds of Judge Bramley, an ancient retired Anglo-Indian judge who remembered the In Mutiny. these grounds were five under-gardeners and a terrible old head-gardener with a limp. At the lower end of our the garden wall ceased and the two places were separated only by a thick hedge through which we were able to burrow. From here we to used set out upon thrilling into these explorations dangerous and unknown regions. well versed Being in the adventures of Peter Rabbit, and full well knowing the awful fate of his father, who had fallen into the hands of Mr. M'Gregor, we were horribly afraid of the being caught by head-gardener. I now suspect that he was a secret reader of the little books himself, for he the played part of Mr. M'Gregor with a masterly in- If on a sight rounding corner we came on him suddenly, he would assume a ferocious expression and pursue us, limping with upraised and terrifying rake, while we fled panic-stricken for our hole in the hedge, The adventurers consisted of my twin brother and my- our self, youngest sister, who was four years older, and Towser. Towser, whose real name was Sandy MacNab, was an Aberdeen terrier* He came to Kilmore as a small puppy about the same time as we were born, and we grew up to- [53 THE SILVER FLEECE gether, he becoming one of the family. He was highly intelligent, and our devoted companion, but dignified and very Scottish. If perchance we went out for the day and left him behind he would regard us "more in sorrow than in anger" on our return. Most dogs will rush up wagging their tails full of welcome on such occasions. But not so Towser. He would turn his back on us, take up an old bone and pretend to be gnawing it, After a time he would glance over his shoulder, and at this we would approach, calling him endearing names. For a while he would continue to gnaw, then slowly turn round, and give his tail a little wag. We would prostrate ourselves before him with abject apologies. Gradually he would relent, and finally it would be made up. If we went away for any length of time he became ill* Generally we took him everywhere* Once he got sun- stroke in Llandrindod Wells, and went out to die in the park alone, where my father found him under a bush unconscious and carried him back to the hotel, where we revived him with ice to the head. For the rest of that trip through North Wales he lay full-length on the seat in the back of the car, while we children sat on the floor holding an umbrella over his head and constantly applying wet handkerchiefs to the back of his neck. Among the other children whom we played with in those early days I remember Walter Starkic, He was two or three years older than I, but on one occasion he actually brought his steam-engine down to the beach to show me. I thought him a wonderful fellow: he knew so much about trains. Once he had travelled from Killincy to Dalkcy on a [63 CHILDHOOD real engine. He said he was going to be an engine-driver, and I begged to be allowed to be his stoker. He is now a stout professor of Spanish, writes books about gypsies and music, and can't drive a car. When we were nine years old my twin brother and I were sent to Aravon School at Bray. Each day we set out from our home on the side of the hill at Killiney and travelled four miles by train to the school. At one point the line ran along a wall over which the sea used to wash on stormy days. Sometimes, indeed, the waves used to crash right over the train. The carriages had low partitions divid- ing the compartments, and on these days we used to open the windows and allow the waves to splash over the parti- tion into the next compartment where the girls going to the French School at Bray used to travel There was always a war with them, and they were apt to retaliate by leaning over, snatching our caps, and throwing them out of the window, for they knew that if we arrived at the school without caps we got into serious trouble. It was a lovely journey, those four miles by Killiney Bay, and it's a sad thought that it has gone for ever, for the sea went on encroaching until the line had to be moved inland, and now even the old track is eaten away and crumbling into the sea* At the time, we accepted the beauty of the world we lived in and were quite unaware how ex- ceptional our surroundings were, having nothing to com- pare them with- They grew to become part of ourselves however, so that later on we were appalled when we met the ugliness of the Midland towns in England.

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