POSTSCRIPT TO AMERICAN PREFACE

_While this book and preface is going through the press, I cannot resist adding a Postscript on a point suggested by my publisher. It is that I should say something which may inform the new generation as to "The Spectator's" position during the Civil War.

"The Spectator" was as strong a friend of America in past years as it is at present, and in those past years its friendship was the more useful because the need for a true understanding between all parts of the English-speaking race was not realised by nearly so many people as it is now. That there was ever any essential bitterness of feeling here or in America I will not admit for a moment, but that there was ignorance, pig-headedness, and want of vision, is beyond all doubt. This want of vision was specially illustrated during the Civil War. "The Spectator," however, I am proud to say, without being unjust to the South, or failing to note its gallantry, and its noble sacrifices even in a wrong cause, was consistently on the side of the North. Moreover, it realised that the North was going to win, and ought to win, and so would abolish slavery. There is a special tradition at the "Spectator" office of which we are very proud. It is that the military critic of "The Spectator," at that time Mr. Hooper, a civilian but with an extraordinary flair for strategy, divined exactly what Sherman was doing when he started on his famous march. Many years afterwards General Sherman, either in a speech or on the written page, for I cannot now verify the fact, though I am perfectly certain of it, said that when he started with the wires cut behind him, there were only two people in the world who knew what his objective was. One was himself and the other, as he said, "an anonymous writer in the London 'Spectator.'" My American readers will understand why I and all connected with "The Spectator" are intensely proud of this fact. The fate, not only of America but of the whole English-speaking race, hung upon the success of Sherman's feat of daring. In turn that success hung upon the fact that Sherman's objective was the sea. To have divined that was a notable achievement in the art of publicity._

J. ST. L. S.

CONTENTS

I.--HOW I CAME TO _The Spectator_

II.--HOW I CAME TO _The Spectator (Continued)_

III.--MY PHYSICAL HOME, MY FAMILY, AND MY GOOD FORTUNE THEREIN

IV.--MY FATHER

V.--MY FATHER'S STORIES OF THE STRACHEY FAMILY

VI.--MY CHILDHOOD AND SOME PSYCHOLOGICAL INCIDENTS

VII.--MY CHILDHOOD (_Continued_)

VIII.--THE FAMILY NURSE

IX.--BOYHOOD: POETRY AND METRE

X.--OXFORD

XI.--A CLASSICAL EDUCATION

XII.--AN OXFORD FRIENDSHIP

XIII.--OXFORD MEMORIES

XIV.--PRESS WORK IN LONDON

XV.--THE "CORNHILL"

XVI.--MEREDITH TOWNSEND

XVII.--MEREDITH TOWNSEND (_Continued_)

XVIII.--MY LIFE IN LONDON IN THE 'NINETIES

XIX.--MY LIFE IN LONDON IN THE 'NINETIES (_Continued_)

XX.--THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM

XXI.--THE PLACE OF THE JOURNALIST IN MODERN LIFE

XXII.--A WAR EPISODE--MY AMERICAN TEA-PARTIES

XXIII.--IDYLLS OF THE WAR

XXIV.--FIVE GREAT MEN

XXV.--FIVE GREAT MEN (Continued)

XXVI.--MY POLITICAL OPINIONS

XXVII.--MY POLITICAL OPINIONS (Continued)

XXVIII.--UNWRITTEN CHAPTERS

INDEX

ILLUSTRATIONS

ST. LOE STRACHEY [Frontispiece] From a drawing by W. Rothenstein.

VIEW OF NORTH FRONT OF SUTTON COURT, IN THE COUNTY OF SOMERSET, THE FAMILY HOUSE OF THE STRACHEYS

SIR EDWARD STRACHEY IN THE HALL AT SUTTON COURT, WITH HIS FAVOURITE CAT From a picture by his son Henry Strachey.

JOHN STRACHEY, THE FRIEND OF LOCKE

THE CLOSE, SUTTON COURT, SOMERSET

SUTTON COURT, SOMERSET

SUTTON COURT, SOMERSET

MRS. SALOME LEAKER,--"THE FAMILY NURSE"

J. ST. LOE STRACHEY,--ÆTAT 16 From a photograph done at Cannes, about 1876.

J. ST. LOE STRACHEY AS AN OXFORD FRESHMAN, ÆTAT 18 MEREDITH TOWNSEND, EDITOR OF THE "FRIEND OF INDIA," AND HIS MOONSHEE, THE PUNDIT OOMACANTO MUKAJI, DOCTOR OF LOGIC IN THE MUDDEH UNIVERSITY Taken at Serampore, Bengal, in 1849.

J. ST. LOE STRACHEY, ÆTAT. 32

J. ST. LOE STRACHEY AT NEWLANDS CORNER, ÆTAT. 45

THE ADVENTURE OF LIVING

CHAPTER I

HOW I CAME TO "THE SPECTATOR"

Sir Thomas Browne gave his son an admirable piece of literary advice. The young son had been travelling in Hungary and proposed to write an account of what he had seen. His father approved the project, but urged him strongly not to trouble himself about the methods of extracting iron and copper from the ores, or with a multitude of facts and statistics. These were matters in which there was no need to be particular. But, he added, his son must on no account forget to give a full description of the "Roman alabaster tomb in the barber's shop at Pesth."

In writing my recollections I mean to keep always before me the alabaster tomb in the barber's shop rather than a view of life which is based on high politics, or even high literature. At first sight it may seem as if the life of an editor is not likely to contain very much of the alabaster tomb element. In truth, however, every life is an adventure, and if a sense of this adventure cannot be communicated to the reader, one may feel sure that it is the fault of the writer, not of the facts. A dull man might make a dull thing of his autobiography even if he had lived through the French Revolution; whereas a country curate might thrill the world with his story, provided that his mind were cast in the right mould and that he found a quickening interest in its delineation. Barbellion's _Diary_ provides the proof. The interest of that supremely interesting book lies in the way of telling.

But how is one to know what will interest one's readers? That is a difficult question. Clearly it is no use to put up a man of straw, call him the Public, and then try to play down to him or up to him and his alleged and purely hypothetical opinions and tastes. Those who attempt to fawn upon the puppet of their own creation are as likely as not to end by interesting nobody. At any rate, try and please yourself, then at least one person's liking is engaged. That is the autobiographer's simple secret.

All the same there is a better reason than that. Pleasure is contagious. He who writes with zest will infect his readers. The man who argues, "This seems stupid and tedious to me, but I expect it is what the public likes," is certain to make shipwreck of his endeavour.

The pivot of my life has been _The Spectator_, and so _The Spectator_ must be the pivot of my book--the point upon which it and I and all that is mine turn. I therefore make no apology for beginning this book with the story of how I came to _The Spectator_.

My father, a friend of both the joint editors, Mr. Hutton and Mr. Townsend, was a frequent contributor to the paper. In a sense, therefore, I was brought up in a "Spectator" atmosphere. Indeed, the first contributions ever made by me to the press were two sonnets which appeared in its pages, one in the year 1875 and the other in 1876. I did not, however, begin serious journalistic work in _The Spectator_, but, curiously enough, in its rival, _The Saturday Review_. While I