PRICE TWO SHILLINGS NET 
 
 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 BORN SEPTEMBER i, 1891. KILLED 
 IN ACTION AT HOOGE, JULY 30, 1915 
 
 LONDON: SIDGW1CK & JACKSON, LTD.
 
 UCSB LIBRARY 
 
 ' 
 
 CLIVEDEN LIBRARY 
 
 ShelJ .5.1 
 Number 
 Date ..- 
 
 ASTOR Nancy 
 
 vix~
 
 Gilbert Talbot 
 
 
 (from a fy/n>ti>^niph by Olive Eilis, F.H.P.S.)
 
 4? GILBERT WALTER 
 LYTTELTON TALBOT 
 
 BORN SEPTEMBER j, 1891. KILLED 
 IN ACTION AT HOOGE, JULY 30, 1915 
 
 " And your bright Promise . . . 
 
 Is touched, stirs, rises, opens, and grows sweet 
 
 And blossoms and is you, when you are dead." 
 
 LONDON: SIDGWICK & JACKSON, LTD. 
 
 1917
 
 CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.
 
 I ^"HIS little book was privately printed, and 
 -L given to a large number of my son's school 
 and Oxford friends, and to his comrades, officers 
 and men. 
 
 There was no thought of publication. But re- 
 quests from strangers, or from those who wished 
 to give it to others, and the words written and 
 spoken about it have led us to think that it might 
 have its word to say to some for whom he was 
 only a name. 
 
 If this hope should be fulfilled, and if, in par- 
 ticular, his life, with its hopes and aspirations, 
 should help to rouse or encourage any of the 
 younger ones on whom will fall, after the War, 
 the tasks and battles of peace, nothing could 
 bring us more true comfort. 
 
 EDW. WINTON. 
 November 1916. 
 
 VI
 
 Words written by way of introduction when the 
 little book was first privately printed. E. W. 
 
 IT seemed to us right to preserve some account 
 of a short life which, as we knew, had given 
 light and warmth to not a few while he was with 
 us here: and had been thought to show promise 
 of future distinction. 
 
 Crowned with honour by the manner of its 
 passing from this present world, it may still give 
 out, even here for a while, some light of example 
 and encouragement. 
 
 With this hope, as well as with the love which 
 will not willingly let memory pass, even in " this 
 transitory life," the little memoir is printed. 
 
 It has been put together by his Mother. To 
 the many friends whose words enrich it we are 
 truly grateful. 
 
 May God be with it and with him. 
 
 EDW. WINTON. 
 
 FARNHAM CASTLE 
 June 1916.
 
 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 IT was the liveliest, merriest little fellow that was 
 born in the Vicarage of Leeds on i September 1891. 
 The high spirits and abounding vitality which were 
 Gilbert's owing no doubt a good deal to his splendid 
 health gave a great charm and delight to his short life. 
 
 He very early showed one characteristic a vivid 
 knowledge of what he wanted, with an equally vivid in- 
 sistence and ingenuity in securing it, delighting in the 
 little plans and arrangements which triumphed over 
 difficulties. Being a good deal the youngest of his family, 
 he was more in the position of an only child, especially in 
 his nursery days, and it was a disadvantage to his natural 
 tendency to think rather too much of Number One that 
 no one stood in his way or snatched away his toys. The 
 many infectious illnesses which were his portion were 
 perhaps not unwholesome times of discipline in his little 
 radiant days not that he emerged from them at all im- 
 paired in health, but he had to forgo many happy hours 
 in little gay Sittings over the house, welcomed every- 
 where with his sunny smile and insinuating ways. When 
 at about six he had measles, followed rather quickly by 
 scarlet fever, he sent me a message through his nurse 
 " It is hard that I should have measles and scarlet fever, 
 when I am so happy downstairs!" At all times he was 
 full of life and spring, running about from morning to 
 night, very rarely walking. 
 
 A row of ugly dolls at one time took the place of
 
 io GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 companions. They were given odd names " Fruit," 
 " Busgwy," etc. and games and plots centred round 
 them with lively imagination. But nothing charmed him 
 anything like so much as the fairy tales of the nursery 
 Grimm in particular and all the old-fashioned nursery 
 rhymes. When a much-enduring Miss Rosenberg en- 
 deavoured to get him quiet for sitting for a miniature 
 when he was about four, the only hope was for one of us 
 to begin " This is the House that Jack built," and so on, 
 through pages of what he knew every word by heart. A 
 little later he knew in the same way the life of Joan of 
 Arc and the history of the old Rochester Tower, etc. 
 One of his great joys at this time was in going any little 
 excursion with his father or me. He went with his father 
 to the " Zoo," and was more full of it afterwards than at 
 the time. Perhaps he was rather subdued by the un- 
 expected hollow roar of the lions, when awaiting their 
 food. His little hand tightened in his father's, and he 
 said, "Shall we have a little fresh air! " Like so many 
 boys only showing it more he could not bear being 
 beaten in games, and even at eight or nine there might 
 be a downpour of tears at a defeat. On my remonstrances 
 on this baby habit over lawn-tennis, etc., he said cheer- 
 fully, "Well, I've left off crying in cricket!" He was 
 very plucky in learning to swim at St. David's, Reigate, 
 and used to jump off a high plank into the arms of a big 
 brother or sister, in the great swimming bath of the 
 School, one summer holiday. 
 
 Gilbert was devoted to Uty l from baby days. With 
 
 1 "Uty" was the pet name of Gilbert's nurse, Mrs. Finch, to 
 whom he was devoted from the first year of his life till the last, and 
 who has now been thirty-six years in the family.
 
 BOYHOOD ii 
 
 her nursing, her reading aloud which all the children 
 delighted in her talk and her games, she kept the little 
 nursery alive. Years later, when he was reading for 
 " Greats," he used to get her to sit opposite him, reading 
 a translation of Herodotus at a little table on the terrace 
 at Farnham, while he took notes from the text. He 
 would be delighted at rinding himself alone with her 
 sometimes at home: "Better company you couldn't 
 have," he used to say. He arranged several visits for her 
 to Winchester and Oxford, and she always came with 
 us till quite lately on our summer holidays. 1 
 
 There was something magnetic and with the spirit of 
 a leader about him always. Many guests who only saw 
 him in one visit to Kennington remember him well, and 
 can recall the vivid, keen little figure, not a bit shy, 
 taking them to see the house and chapel, giving them 
 any information he could, and always full of spirits and 
 merriment and politics! To a fault, however, he was 
 insistent on claiming attention and in having his say in 
 and out of season, and in arranging and ordering things 
 as he wished. 
 
 He was fond of talking of his " big brothers," and 
 would describe the games, etc., he would have with them 
 in their holidays. His affection for and belief in his two 
 brothers was very marked always, and he eagerly wanted 
 his special friends to know them. With Ted the tie of 
 
 1 Once she travelled with Gilbert to Switzerland when he was a 
 small boy, to join us there. At Paris all the chaff and coaxing in the 
 world failed to dislodge her from her firm position on her boxes to 
 go outside the station to get some dinner. With much suspicion of 
 foreign food, and anxiety over the boxes, Uty remained where she 
 was ; on which Gilbert made his way to a little restaurant close by, 
 and brought off a very satisfactory French dinner for himself.
 
 12 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 both being Wykehamists was very close, and there was 
 endless chaff and fun between them, and I have often 
 heard Gilbert say that " Ted was one of the best arguers 
 he knew." 
 
 Two friends write of his boyhood : 
 
 All we remember of those happy holidays at Timbers- 
 combe twelve years ago radiates happiness and exuberant 
 vitality. It is difficult to think of him without a smile. 
 
 Timberscombe, a village on Exmoor, was that " time 
 of his life " when he learnt to ride well and fearlessly 
 with the staghounds, being small enough to ride an 
 Exmoor pony no one else could share with him! 
 
 And another writer after a visit to Bishop's House: 
 
 He was such an attractive, brilliant, generous boy, I 
 shall never forget my first sight of him at Kennington 
 suspensum loculos just off to school, and saying good- 
 bye round the breakfast table, like a young collie, fresh 
 and bustling and handsome. 
 
 Two or three almost passionate instincts in him re- 
 vealed themselves very early love of fun and nonsense, 
 and love of beauty. He would repeat the whole of 
 " Dame Wiggins of Lee," the old-fashioned humorous 
 poem, with embellishments of his own, and a little later 
 on it was page after page of " Uncle Remus " (Brer 
 Rabbit), which he poured forth with shining eyes and 
 clear utterance, till we had to cry for mercy. " Punch " 
 he had a very early appreciation of, and one of his con- 
 stant habits through his life was to pick out the bits in 
 the letterpress which he felt sure would specially amuse 
 me, and we have often laughed together till we have 
 cried over many a choice bit. 
 
 And then the love of beauty. The sound of his own
 
 BOYHOOD 13 
 
 voice reciting bits of Tennyson, Wordsworth, and many 
 others, must have been delightful to him, and made him 
 keen to impress their beauty on others by constantly 
 repeating his favourite lines. May ' taught him most of 
 his poetry. When so small a boy that he had to stand 
 on a high foot-stool to be properly seen, in a large 
 crowded room, he asked if he might recite to the newly- 
 ordained men on an Ordination Sunday afternoon at 
 Kennington. One of his pieces was " Young Lochinvar," 
 another " Up the airy mountain, down the rushy glen," 
 and the beautiful poem of Wordsworth, " I wandered 
 lonely as a cloud." It was comic to see the little man, 
 with his baby face and sparkling blue eyes, give out with 
 great feeling and clearness: 
 
 And oft when on my couch I lie, 
 In vacant or in pensive mood, 
 They flash upon that inward eye, 
 Which is the bliss of solitude. 
 
 Closely associated with hislove of beautiful language was 
 his love of music. During part of our life in London he 
 was immensely occupied with a great enthusiasm for 
 the choir of the Cathedral Church of Southwark, then in 
 the charge of a very talented organist, Dr. Madeley 
 Richardson. The personal friendship with him and his 
 keen following of all his musical views interested and 
 absorbed him, and during many holidays he would be at 
 the afternoon weekly service as often as possible besides 
 Sundays getting to know the whole choir personally, 
 as well as entering into the music the anthems, the 
 "masses" for choral celebration and especially the Psalms. 
 Dr. Richardson had written music for the whole Psalter, 
 1 His eldest sister.
 
 I 4 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 drawing out the meanings of the words with extreme 
 care. Gilbert's great love of beauty and of melody in 
 music and in words made him enter very keenly into 
 this musical-dramatic interpretation of the Psalms. 
 
 Dr. Richardson has sent me the following words about 
 their time together : 
 
 Some of the happiest memories of my life are con- 
 nected with dear Gilbert's association with Southwark 
 Cathedral, beginning when a lad of ten years old. . . . 
 After some singing lessons from myself, his interest in 
 his own singing passed on to what I was doing at the 
 Cathedral. He began coming to sit with me on the organ 
 seat during the services, when he would take pleasure in 
 rinding the places in my music books, starting the water 
 power and helping in other ways, evidently liking to feel 
 that he had some active part in contributing to the 
 general result. Then later he began to attend the choir 
 practices, and came more and more frequently. 
 
 He gradually became quite absorbed in the Cathedral 
 music and the work of the choir. He appeared to apply 
 all his mind to it, and acquired a considerable knowledge 
 unusual in one so young. I was sometimes surprised 
 to find how much he really knew about Church music ; 
 and he would say things that showed sound judgment 
 and taste. His interest in the personnel of the choir, and 
 especially of the boys, was very strong. . . . 
 
 When he went to Winchester I thought that perhaps 
 the new life and associations would lessen his interest in 
 the Cathedral music. But it seemed to make no differ- 
 ence. On returning home he would come straight to the 
 Cathedral, to his old place at the organ. . . . 
 
 This marked love of beauty, whether of poetry and 
 beautiful things, of buildings in lovely surroundings, such 
 as Winchester and Oxford, or of mountain, coast, or home 
 scenery as at the Chalet des Melezes, S. Gervais les
 
 BOYHOOD 15 
 
 Bains, 1 Harlech, Falconhurst, etc. gave a thread of 
 romance to all Gilbert's life and was at the bottom of 
 his extreme delight in living at Farnham his last four 
 years. London meant, of course, so much to him of keen 
 enjoyment, social and political, with his immense delight 
 in plays, that I could scarcely believe the change to 
 Farnham at nineteen would have been so happy a one. 
 I cannot recall one word of regret for the " flesh pots " of 
 London, once we began to live at Farnham. The place 
 took the strongest hold of him, and he was swept away 
 by the hot, radiant beauty of the summer of 1911, when 
 many of his friends came and enjoyed it all with him. I 
 remember on turning into Castle Street one day, coming 
 home, he said quite passionately to me : " Mother, you 
 adore Farnham, don't you, as I do, when we come in 
 sight of it like this each time ? " And then the skilful 
 and anxious work of the repairing of the Keep, in 1913-14, 
 the glory of the flowers and flowering shrubs, the distant 
 views and the great cool spaces in the summer time were 
 a constant delight. Of Christmas Eve 1911 at Farnham 
 he wrote : 
 
 . . . We had rather a pretty little show here last night. 
 My eldest brother was made up as Father Christmas, 
 and the nephews with a few other children waited for 
 him at the drawing room window. He came round the 
 moat, by the old wall of the castle, carrying a lantern : 
 the effect was really charming, and the children completely 
 deceived. Richard in my arms became like a little fire 
 football with quite delirious excitement, mingled with a 
 touch of terror at the first sight of him. He came in and 
 gave presents all round, and talked a lot most cleverly 
 
 1 Twice Gilbert joined a Reading Party with Mr. Urquhart, 
 Fellow of Balliol, at the Chalet.
 
 16 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 to the children, and then disappeared again into the 
 garden and away round the moat. It was all quite fas- 
 cinating. 
 
 Meanwhile May did her best to convey to her children 
 the theological significance of Christmas, the main result 
 being that her second son asked whether " God came 
 down from Heaven by a rope, and if so did he hold on 
 very tight ? " 
 
 In March 1912, again : 
 
 . . . This morning is a perfect spring day, though a little 
 windy. I'm absolutely knocked down by the beauty of 
 the place. It 's almost too good to be true. Everything 
 is fresh and green and budding with the promise of 
 spring in the air, grass, flowers, trees and everything 
 else. The daffodils, hyacinths, violets and heaps of bril- 
 liant spring flowers are everywhere in the garden and 
 among the rocks of the keep. The top of the keep is 
 really a sort of Paradise. I've never seen it all look so 
 beautiful as after breakfast this morning, the sun flooding 
 the whole place, and with that extraordinary feeling of 
 vigour and youth and beauty which is never quite so 
 good at any other time of the year. . . . 
 
 And of his last sight of the place he wrote on 19 May 
 1915: 
 
 ... I went to Farnham for the last time in the afternoon. 
 The place never looked more lovely, flooded with sun- 
 shine, and the blossoms and wallflowers in full blaze. I 
 wandered round it all with Uty and the dogs. . . . May 
 I see it all again soon ! . . . 
 
 London, it must be said, kept one great charm for him 
 in the fact of the beautiful Governor's House at Chelsea 
 being in his Uncle Neville's hands. It was a second home 
 to him ; he was often visiting there. And he was an
 
 BOYHOOD 17 
 
 enthusiastic playgoer, with an intimate knowledge of all 
 that world of theatres and London music halls not easily 
 shocked by plays or novels. But he vehemently drew the 
 line at the last half of the second volume of " Sinister 
 Street " : "I shouldn't like to think of any girl or woman 
 I know reading it." 
 
 When Gilbert was about eight years old the South 
 African War broke out. His interest in it knew no 
 bounds. The fact that Neville, already in the ist Bat- 
 talion of the Rifle Brigade, was going out of course gave 
 it at once a personal interest. When Neville started from 
 home in September 1899, the small brother squeezed a 
 hot shilling into his hand as he was getting into the cab. 
 During the early and exciting period of the war there was 
 no detail Gilbert missed. He could have stood a cross- 
 examination in all the battles, small or big, and in the 
 generals and heroes on the Natal side of the fighting. 
 He got hold of the newspapers the moment they came 
 into the house, and guests were disturbed now and again 
 by his running through the passages with the dinner bell, 
 shouting out the news of an insignificant victory. He and 
 Oliver (son of his uncle Alfred Lyttelton) shared classes 
 together in Great College Street (and later went together 
 to Mr. Bull's private school in Marylebone), and both 
 enjoyed doing endless military things together and play- 
 ing the war in games. But it never became a question 
 with either of them of going into the army till the call 
 came in August 1914. 
 
 In September 1905 Gilbert went to Winchester to the 
 house of Mr. Bramston (known to all Wykehamists as 
 "Trant"). His eldest brother, Edward (himself a keen 
 Wykehamist), took him there, in the absence of his 
 
 B
 
 18 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 father abroad. He writes the following sketch of the six 
 years at Winchester : 
 
 Never did a boy (he was barely 13) enter a public 
 school with a lighter heart than Gilbert. I can see him 
 now on that first day, as I left him to buy his experience. 
 His untidy clothes and a free and easy manner to new 
 acquaintances betrayed no sign of apprehension or self- 
 consciousness ; and he was full of talk on various subjects 
 till the last moment 
 
 He was in those early days, I make no doubt, a fit 
 object of the suspicion which schoolboys have for one 
 who "jaws," and who assumes that he can treat with 
 those older than himself on equal terms. Indeed, 
 Gilbert's first year and half at Winchester contained 
 much adversity and even misery. Much of the fault was 
 his. He was too self-confident and assertive, and did 
 not take pains enough with his " sweating " duties. But 
 even this period was ennobled by a deep shrinking from 
 uncleanness and by the isolation which resistance to it 
 brought upon him. 
 
 It speaks well for the good-will of his House and for 
 Gilbert's courage that he started so soon on the happiness 
 which steadily grew through the following years. The 
 spell of Trant's broad and lovable humanity, which has 
 charmed so many generations of Wykehamists, won all 
 Gilbert's warm and loyal affection. To critics of Trant's 
 system, he used to reply that Trant was his own system, 
 and in that fact he found compensation for some of the 
 early troubles to which, perhaps, a certain lack of dis- 
 cipline contributed. He became one of the most devoted 
 Wykehamists, passionately enthusiastic over the school 
 and his years there. " Every minute is precious and 
 every stone a jewel," he says of his last days at school. 
 
 " He lost no opportunity," so writes Mother, "of visiting 
 Winchester after he left, over and over again, and he and 
 Winny l and I spent there his last Sunday in England 
 
 1 Gilbert's second sister.
 
 WINCHESTER 19 
 
 in May 1915, with the charm and beauty of the place at 
 their highest. In Chapel the hymn 
 
 ' Jesus, still lead on 
 Till our rest is won ' 
 
 was sung. The last service before going to the front in 
 the Chapel of so many loved associations could not fail 
 to be very moving." 
 
 I think that the early experience of unpopularity had 
 two effects. It was only latterly that he ceased altogether 
 to be on the defensive. He was sensitive to criticism, 
 and Hermione l says that even later it was a surprise to 
 him to find that people liked him. The other effect was 
 the determination so characteristic of his later school-life 
 to destroy the evil in his house which had so oppressed 
 his early days. Into this determination he flung a certain 
 chivalrous ardour, the creature of his own experience. He 
 may have been for a time even over-preoccupied in this 
 direction. Perhaps preoccupation was given its particular 
 shape by the " political " mould of his thoughts. He loved 
 devising a " campaign " and enjoyed the drama of per- 
 sonal alliance and collision. 
 
 And so at Winchester, in the later years he was always 
 both in conversation and in his letters forecasting new 
 policies and reckoning up the forces upon which he could 
 rely for the government of his House. " I have not made 
 you realize," he writes as a prefect, " how extraordinarily 
 thrilling a job I have got here, or how difficult a one." 
 The nascent politician speaks there, but also the boy. 
 
 " Adorned sensualism " was his comment on a book 
 whose style I had praised. And this instinct was unfailing 
 in a way the more remarkable because from the 
 beginning he had an eager and unabashed appreciation 
 of comforts and luxuries. It was not till the last year of 
 his life, I should suppose, that he tasted the virtue of 
 spare and orderly living. But he had a wholesome recoil 
 
 1 His cousin, third daughter of General Sir Neville and Lady 
 Lyttelton.
 
 20 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 from certain kinds of evil not merely as wrong, but as 
 things which poison the springs of youth and joy. 
 Writing from Winchester he says: "I don't know how 
 I should get along without books, poetry, beautiful 
 things, etc.," and again he writes: "What a lot such 
 words [as the Pope's, etc., in the " Ring and the Book "] 
 bring into one's life of beauty and help ! " 
 
 He goes on to insist that the lack of positive interests, 
 and ignorance of the beauty of goodness are largely 
 responsible for moral evil. 
 
 As a boy he was already by instinct a man of affairs, 
 with the keenest relish for the management of a situa- 
 tion, and a desire to be in the current of things happening, 
 which was altogether too strong for the habits of con- 
 centrated study work. " It is all intensely thrilling and 
 absorbing," he writes of a term in which he is governing 
 his house, training a Commoner XV, editing the 
 " Wykehamist," speaking in Debating Societies, steering 
 the small boys through their early days, following with 
 increasing rage the infamies of a hated Liberal Govern- 
 ment, dreaming of his own future and plotting in advance 
 what Mother used to call his " holiday campaign." In all 
 this he moved with a certain mature sagacity and with a 
 precocious skill in the thrust and parry of argument. He 
 seemed to combine a child's zest and impatience with 
 the width of interest of a much older man. 
 
 As an athlete Gilbert never achieved much success, 
 though Mr. Fort 1 records a pleasant impression of 
 him on the football field : " he went forward [to the front] 
 as he used to do in the old football days not like a born 
 runner, if the truth is to be told, but so filled with the 
 spirit of the fight, and with the idea of getting forward, 
 that there was no room left for any fear, and no power 
 on earth could have turned him back." 
 
 As a small boy he showed a good promise at cricket, 
 and had a style amusingly formed in the " grand manner." 
 He had the bad luck to miss a year's football owing 
 
 1 Second Master at Winchester.
 
 WINCHESTER 21 
 
 to the effects of a serious but quite temporary heart 
 illness, brought on from overstrain in walking at the 
 Riffel-Alp, and though he was put in Commoner's Six 
 that year with a view to his being 2nd Captain, he had 
 to stand down the following year a bitter disappoint- 
 ment which he met with admirable good temper. 
 
 Throughout his schooldays as indeed always Gilbert's 
 loyalty to his home was unwavering. From it he in- 
 stinctively derived his estimate of values in it he was 
 most unaffectedly happy. 
 
 He had none of the mauvaise honte of many boys when 
 their " people " descend upon their school, and he was al- 
 ways pleading for one or other of his family to visit him. 
 
 I remember the almost embarrassing fashion in which 
 he " boomed " one of his brothers who was to preach in 
 chapel, an occasion which surely would justify an agony 
 of apprehension in a school-boy. Indeed though I never 
 heard him boast of his own considerable triumphs in 
 debate and elsewhere he always greatly enjoyed any 
 success achieved by any of us. Above all it was Mother 
 with whom Gilbert shared unfailingly both his sorrows 
 and ambitions. She was his constant audience, and he 
 never lost the tender ways of a child with her. 
 
 He used to turn back to his home with eager delight in 
 its distinctive atmosphere. And from beginning to end he 
 was a centre of extraordinary interest and vitality. 
 
 I also add these extracts from one or two Winchester 
 friends. 
 
 From the Bishop of Southwark, Dr. Burge {formerly 
 
 Head Master of Winchester) 
 
 Aug. '15. 
 
 There are many many moments that Gilbert and I 
 spent talking of deep and high things . . . one seems to 
 stand out amongst them all; the last Sunday of Cloister 
 term '10 Gilbert's last at school. He and Macandrew 1 
 
 1 Macandrew (New Coll.) was killed early in 1915.
 
 22 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 talked to me all that evening of their experience, as 
 juniors and leaders, their difficulties, trials, and unex- 
 pected victories; and we planned how such victories 
 might be made more certain for those who came after 
 them. . . . He was so loyal and chivalrous, he lived his 
 life out full of enthusiasm and high hopes and right am- 
 bition the glow of it all had never begun to fade one 
 whit. 
 
 From Mr. Beloe {formerly Master at Winchester) 
 
 The Headmaster's, 
 
 Bradfield, Aug. '15. 
 
 . . . We at Winchester who loved Gilbert knew he 
 would do something big some day, and now he has done 
 it, and none of us dreamed it would be this. How I did 
 love his ruddy head, his faults, his gifts and himself. 
 
 From the Rev. Guy Hanbury 
 
 Portsea, Aug. '15. 
 
 I always had a great regard and admiration for Gilbert 
 and I know in our House at Winchester he had a real 
 force for good. ... I know there are many others who, 
 like myself, will never forget, and will be always thankful 
 for his example at school. 
 
 In October 1910 Gilbert went up to Oxford, to Christ 
 Church. He soon became a member of the Union, where 
 he was successively elected Secretary, Treasurer, and 
 President. As President he followed a good family 
 tradition his grandfather, father, and elder brother all 
 preceding him. His deep interest in politics, his lively 
 way of sharing in the life of the place in many various 
 ways, would, I believe, in any case have hindered the 
 keen interest in " Greats " (taken up directly after passing 
 Pass " Mods ") which we all looked forward to for him ; 
 and also a very early and a very strong and as it
 
 OXFORD 23 
 
 proved a hopeless attachment 1 came between him and 
 steady, concentrated reading. And though during this 
 time the astonishing vitality of the boy, his high spirits 
 and delight in all forms of life seemed (to outward 
 appearance) unaffected at home and at Oxford by so 
 strong and often so depressing an experience it must 
 be said that continuous interest in philosophy, classical 
 history, etc., fared badly, and no hard work in the later 
 time at Oxford could overcome the drawback of its 
 absence in the earlier years. Of his four radiantly happy 
 full Oxford years he writes to his father (i June 1914): 
 
 I hope you will be able to feel to some extent, what I 
 do that I can't regret a minute of Oxford in a way. 
 They have been four incomparable years, crammed with 
 interest and good fellowship, and I feel that in all the 
 things I've learnt of all kinds, and in the mass of interest- 
 ing people I've met, I have been amazingly blessed and 
 lucky. And I wouldn't have missed my Presidency of 
 the Union for ten Firsts. 
 
 Gilbert's second brother, Neville, whose time at Balliol 
 as Fellow and Chaplain ran alongside of his own at Christ 
 Church, as undergraduate, has written what follows about 
 this part of his life. 
 
 From Neville Talbot, Fellow and Chaplain of Balliol, 
 1909-14 
 
 At Oxford we came together of course very much, 
 though I wish now that we had met more. We tried to 
 keep to a weekly luncheon together. But both his life 
 and mine were what may be called torrential. Certainly 
 
 1 About this I should like to add what Gilbert wrote when it was 
 all at an end : "... I shall never forget that I was the better man 
 for several years because of you, and that you did me good only 
 pure good and not harm."
 
 24 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 he was caught up at once into little less than a whirlpool 
 of interests and experiences. They were by no means 
 merely Oxford experiences. He was one of those 
 modern undergraduates in whose orbit London bulked 
 to an extent I imagine little known to earlier generations. 
 His love affair, the House of Commons and theatres, and 
 latterly Chelsea Hospital drew him often to London. 
 At the same time he managed to drink deeply of Oxford 
 itself. He made many friends, not only in Christ Church 
 but at other colleges, and especially in Balliol. His social 
 life was very full and marked by much conviviality too 
 much, so it seemed to me who as don and dean was 
 grappling with undergraduate incapacity to say " No " 
 very irregular, and yet saved from its main inherent 
 dangers by a native wholesomeness, a central loyalty to 
 goodness (lit up for him by home association), a real 
 though not fully operative basis of religion, and above 
 all by a longing and determination to take his place on 
 the right side in the conflict for the Kingdom of God. 
 
 He was very loyal to me and to what I cared for, and 
 was a great stand-by at some times of crisis at Balliol. 
 Though " we say it that shouldn't," he delighted in his 
 relations. On the other hand, with something of a don's 
 limitation of vision, I think I overlooked the strength 
 and colour of the moral impression which he made on 
 fellow undergraduates. It was, I suppose, a tribute to his 
 character that he was elected secretary and president of 
 Junior Common Room at the House offices usually held 
 by prominent athletes. I recall the almost brazen way in 
 which as president he summoned a crowded meeting of 
 J.C.R. in order that I might explain about the Bishop of 
 Oxford's Mission, which Ted was helping in and I was 
 helping to organize. 
 
 Politics was the chief door by which he entered into 
 Oxford life. I say the chief door, for there were others. 
 He had time to become a genuine House man, and was 
 particularly fitted to enter into the great diversity of that 
 society. He had in particular one very warm ring of 
 friends, of whom Roger Draper was one. They were
 
 OXFORD 25 
 
 simply fellow contemporaries at the same college, and 
 had no touch with politics. A House man writes : " All 
 the time he was up he was a considerable person the 
 life of the House." Still politics was the main focus of 
 his life at Oxford. He made his chief friendships through 
 the New Tory Club which he helped to start, and as 
 treasurer I imagine all but ruined the Canning and the 
 Union. He soon became the chief figure at the Canning, 
 and was secretary by the end of his first year. He made 
 his mark at the Union as a freshman. 
 
 Through seeing public men, and in particular Arthur 
 Balfour, at home, he brought to undergraduate discussions 
 an unusual familiarity with the greater political world. 
 Indeed, at the Union, he had to overcome a natural 
 surprise in others at his mature parliamentary manner. 
 
 Undoubtedly his distinction as a speaker arose rather 
 from his speaking and debating capacity than from what 
 he had to say. Politically he was feeling his way. Three 
 things only were clear to him : 
 
 (1) Attachment to the Tory Party, and an even greater 
 aversion to their opponents. 
 
 (2) A passionate personal devotion to Mr. Balfour, 1 of 
 which instances are given below. 
 
 (3) A great sympathy with ideals of social and demo- 
 cratic betterment, which he believed that the younger 
 men of the Tory Party might make it their ambition to 
 realize. 
 
 In my experience at the Union there were other wittier 
 and more substantial speakers,but none so really endowed 
 with the capacity for debate. He was much better at 
 joining in a discussion than in opening one. He had by 
 nature an advocate's gifts of reply and cross-examination. 
 Yet he debated neither to score points or for cleverness' 
 sake, but rather out of enthusiasm for his own case. 
 
 1 "... I loved Gilbert he was always delightful to me, and I 
 cherished the most confident hopes that if he lived he would do 
 great things for his country. He has done great things the 
 greatest and most enviable but not in the way I expected. . . ." 
 {From a letter of Mr. Balf cur's.}
 
 26 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 The occasion I associate most with his debating powers 
 was a meeting of the Canning. He read a rather slight 
 paper on Arthur Balfour and the Conservative Party. 
 The paper was followed by a discussion which went 
 heavily against him. Benison made an exceedingly 
 lugubrious speech by way of supporting him, and this 
 played into my hands as a Radical critic. One or two 
 new members thought they would side with him best by 
 airing the very crustiest Tory sentiments. Bobby Palmer 
 made a smashing attack from close range, etc., etc., and I 
 kept wondering how he would manage with his reply at 
 the end of the discussion. But he arose quite untroubled, 
 and with a very precise recollection of what everyone had 
 said ran all the beads of the discussion on to the thread of 
 supposing that / had carefully plotted beforehand the 
 disastrous course of adverse or fatally-friendly speeches. 
 
 He followed me "on the paper" at the Union in a 
 debate on "The Social Policy of the Liberal Government," 
 but the chief remembrance of the occasion which I retain 
 is the vivacious scorn with which he dealt with an inter- 
 ruption of mine. 
 
 As president of the Union he had the great fun of 
 having Mr. Lloyd-George down as a visitor. It was at 
 the height of that statesman's unpopularity. Both young 
 Tory Oxford and some representatives of militant SufT- 
 ragism hailed the occasion as an opportunity for a de- 
 monstration. There was real risk that proceedings inside 
 and outside the debating-hall might end in tumult and 
 assault. But Gilbert bossed the detectives, and hocussed 
 the crowd and controlled the House with great master- 
 fulness. The manner and success wherewith he crushed 
 a member, who, in asking an insulting question about 
 Marconis, had keyed the whole House up to taut expec- 
 tancy of a row, is unforgettable. Rising very promptly 
 from the chair, with inimitable gravitas he said : " I 
 feel sure that I am only expressing the unanimous 
 opinion of this House, of whom the right honourable 
 gentleman is the guest, when I say that we will not 
 tolerate any insulting ..." (the rest drowned in roars
 
 OXFORD 27 
 
 of cheering). It was as he prophesied of it, " the evening 
 of his life." 
 
 We can leave speculations as to what his Oxford 
 promise would have brought him to. The single and 
 simple summonsof war and the exactionsof trainingcame, 
 I think, to him with a certain peace after the turbulence 
 of Oxford and its many delights and experiments. 
 
 His hands were full as he offered himself, and part of 
 the fullness was thankfulness for Oxford. 
 
 He has passed on, crowning the stages of his eager 
 growth with achievement. It is terribly dull for us that 
 he is gone. 
 
 The extracts from letters which follow are those to 
 which reference is made above, as illustrating his ad- 
 miration of Mr. Balfour : 
 
 I . After a visit of Mr. Balfour to Farnham 
 
 Ap. 2. '12 
 
 . . . The week-end has been intensely interesting. 
 A.J.B. can never have been in better form. . . . As usual, 
 I was quite overpowered by the charm of the man. It's 
 simply the size of the intellect which first strikes one in 
 a different class to everybody else's in the room. Then 
 it's a perfectly regulated, beautifully luminous mind, that 
 has no difficulty in giving its thought expression in 
 perfect sequence, without any effort or straining after 
 effect, but with the most absolute grace and charm. At 
 times, when one listens to him talking, one suddenly 
 seems for a second to see what he is seeing and to rise 
 to a wholly different sphere of thought and imagination. 
 And then one loses it, and one feels that he is soaring in 
 regions where one can never follow him. At luncheon 
 on Sunday, when I was sitting next to him, he talked 
 to me eagerly about some new books that had just been 
 written in connection with my work at Oxford. By the 
 mercy of Heaven, I was on the whole tolerably well up 
 in the points he dealt with!
 
 28 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 2. Account of an Open Meeting of the Farnham Field 
 Club, when Gilbert opened the Debate on " Is England 
 Decadent?" and Mr. Balfour promised to speak. 
 
 zbth April, 1913. Farnham. 
 
 . . . The place (Farnham Corn Exchange) was packed. 
 Father was in the chair and gave the whole show a start 
 with a few " chairming " remarks. Then I arose! On the 
 whole I felt pleased at holding their attention all through. 
 I lost my nervousness after a little while, when I got 
 interested in the subject and felt excited about it. It 
 was a biggish hall and I found I had to shout rather. I 
 wish my voice was more resonant. I tried to avoid 
 making any positive statements, but rather tried to clear 
 the ground of the subject, and suggested one or two 
 possible theories to account for the extraordinary way 
 nations rose and reached a climax and then declined 
 and asked whether this process could be avoided in the 
 case of England. My chief object was to put some 
 questions which I hoped A.J.B. would take up. Well, as 
 I say, they seemed to listen to the argument, and Father 
 and A.J.B. were both very jolly about it and seemed 
 pleased. Two speeches followed, one from a young 
 barrister called Livingstone, who had been president of 
 the Union at Cambridge. He spoke shortly and very 
 well, and made several points which interested A.J.B. 
 Then Mr. Balfour wound up. It was a beautiful bit of 
 argumentative speaking. I've never admired his mind 
 more, or felt it more above any other that I've ever 
 known. I was awfully pleased with the way he took up 
 points in my speech and discussed them. 
 
 Well, the whole thing ended most enthusiastically, 
 and we came back to supper, and then A.J.B. sat up 
 talking in the most fascinating and animated way till 
 12.30. I felt absolutely limp after it all. I've never felt 
 a reaction more. I went to bed worn out. . . .
 
 OXFORD 29 
 
 The strength and depth of his friendships at Oxford, 
 the enthusiastic belief in his future and the good influence 
 he had among those who knew him well, these letters 
 will show and they are but a few which it was our 
 great happiness to receive. 
 
 From Mr. Sidney Ball, Fellow of St. John's 
 
 The Union Society, Oxford, ^th August, 1915. 
 
 ... I had the greatest admiration for your son's 
 character and aims, and the greatest faith in his ability 
 to make them good. Of all the younger men with whom 
 I have been associated, he seemed to me to have the 
 finest and the surest promise. In his sense and under- 
 standing of public duty and responsibility, he stood out 
 as few men have done in his generation. . . . His life 
 would have meant much: one dare not think that his 
 death has meant less. . . . 
 
 From J. A. R. Marriott 
 
 Worcester Coll., Oxford. 
 
 ... As secretary of the Canning and in other ways, I 
 came into very close touch with Gilbert, and conceived 
 an immense admiration for him. There are few men in 
 the Oxford of late years whose death will be more 
 sincerely mourned by a wider circle. 
 
 From Rev. W. J. Carey 
 
 H.M.S. Warspite. 
 
 ... I needn't tell you anything about him you know 
 far better his weaknesses and his strength. What I knew 
 and loved him for was the idealism which underlay his 
 mind and outlook: he was passionately keen on the 
 ideals of a wholesome life.
 
 30 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 From Spencer Leeson 
 
 Aug. '15. 
 
 . . . All his Oxford friends and they were very 
 many were quite sure a brilliant career in politics lay 
 before him. We used to think his powers grew immensely 
 from year to year, especially those who heard him each 
 week at the Canning Club, which I think possessed a 
 larger place in his heart than anything else in Oxford 
 of the kind. We frequently spoke on opposite sides to 
 each other there, and I have learnt a very great deal 
 from him. But a brilliant life has been nobly ended. His 
 energy and force will always be an inspiration to those 
 who knew him, he had a great gift for stimulating other 
 people, and once or twice he gave me most valued help 
 and encouragement. . . . 
 
 From A. P. Herbert^ 
 
 Royal Naval Hospital, Plymouth. 
 igM August 1915. 
 
 ... I saw a good deal of Gilbert our last three years 
 at Winchester, and a great deal at Oxford, and more and 
 more loved and admired him the better I knew him. 
 . . . He was a most inspiring person to do things with, 
 and we all expected the greatest things of him. . . . 
 Later on, you may like to remember the very deep and 
 sincere admiration and regret of a humble companion of 
 his youth. . . . 
 
 From Eric Benison 
 (died a few days after writing this letter) 
 
 Breakwater Fort, Weymouth. 
 
 gth August 1915. 
 
 One of the very last times we met was on a Sunday 
 morning in the winter, when we went together to 
 St. Paul's. What caused it I know not, but the thought 
 stole irresistibly over my mind that we should never be 
 
 1 A further letter from A. P. Herbert will be found on pp. 88-91.
 
 OXFORD 31 
 
 there together again. Day after day as I read the 
 casualty lists it was his name that I feared to find, for 
 of all the men I have ever known and loved it was 
 Gilbert whom I could most ill afford to lose. The walks 
 that we walked together in the happy ways of Oxford 
 the dinners that we held, and the speeches that we made, 
 and not least of all those when I was his vice-secretary 
 in the Canning return and will return upon my mind. 
 But more even still shall I cherish the memory of those 
 hours we spent in the perfect atmosphere of his room, 
 sometimes reading and talking and sometimes in silence; 
 and, above all, of those when we listened as we loved 
 to to the music of those wonderful choirs. If ever a 
 man influenced another for good, then Gilbert influenced 
 me, and now it only remains for me still more even 
 than before to try His works to do. Truly it was said 
 of Mr. Alfred Lyttelton, but not more truly than of my 
 own beloved Gilbert: 
 
 " This was the happy warrior this was he, 
 Whom every man in arms could wish to be." 
 
 From E. F. W. Besley 
 
 British Expeditionary Force, 
 Aug. 15. 
 
 ... I wonder if you know how horribly I feel Gilbert's 
 death: how we loved him in Long Wall, and what a 
 tremendous elevating influence for the good he had on 
 me in particular. That last will never be effaced. It 
 seems so cruel, after all we talked and planned about 
 his future, and discussed his thoughts all that last great 
 year. . . . For myself, Gilbert's loss as a friend and as 
 an example can never be repaired. He had the gift of 
 leading men, and he perhaps unconsciously was lead- 
 ing and, thank God, influencing me. I cannot flinch from 
 a death now that he met so bravely. . . . For me some- 
 thing very big is gone: there can never be another Gilbert.
 
 32 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 From Walter Monckton 
 
 . . . Gilbert had the most vigorous, fresh and noble 
 mind of any man I ever knew, and I know that his life 
 has been and will be an abiding influence for good on 
 those of others. . . . He was the embodiment of youth 
 and life and hope, and his great sacrifice of himself 
 places all three on a higher plane. . . . 
 
 P.S. \zthAugust. 
 
 I have been thinking so much of Gilbert these last 
 few days, that I will add just a little to my letter before 
 I send it. I have been feeling lost in the knowledge that 
 I can't turn to him for help and advice, for all my plans 
 and hopes and ideas were bound up with his, and I 
 realize his strength of character and personality more 
 than ever now also how very near the surface his faults 
 were, and how deep and steady the goodness in him. . . . 
 He was the very best of friends, and as our intimacy 
 increased so did my joy and pride in it. ... He will 
 still be my greatest friend, and I shall often feel the kind 
 critic's hand on my shoulder. And unless all our life is a 
 lie, I know we shall all see him again. . . . 
 
 The problem of his profession was often a real worry 
 to Gilbert, even in the middle of his Winchester time. 
 He writes, 7 February 1909, from Winchester: 
 
 I am worried as to my profession. I want to make up 
 my mind. My dearest ambition is to get into Parliament, 
 and my chief interest is, frankly, politics. But I know 
 that this is impossible for a long time, and there is an 
 immense lot to be said for the Bar. I like it, and think 
 it is a profession, where as far as I can see I am more or 
 less likely to get on. But then I wonder if it is a good 
 plan to make it a stepping stone, and whether it is
 
 OXFORD 33 
 
 possible to do the best in a line in which one's ambitions 
 do not really lie. I should so like to hear what you think. 
 
 And again after speaking of various social problems 
 he goes on (January 1912) : 
 
 ... I want to lose myself in all these problems and 
 interests. I would give anything to be able to do some- 
 thing which would be an infinitesimal share in the 
 restoring of order and balance to English society. I 
 want to lend a hand in the fight against poverty and 
 misery and wrong. It is this that draws me into politics. 
 The desire to be constructive, to create, is overwhelming. 
 My greatest ambition is to be among the great world 
 problems and to try and give my part to their solution 
 to forget myself and my own interests. 
 
 I think as the years went on he had hopes of being 
 able to get into business, in a way which involved looking 
 after employees, and that this might have been compatible 
 with getting into Parliament while still young. 
 
 Both he and Oliver Lyttelton had always contemplated 
 going to the Bar, and Gilbert was eating his dinners 
 during his time at Oxford. He greatly enjoyed acting 
 as Marshal to Sir Walter Phillimore and to Sir Charles 
 Darling, and entered keenly into various criminal cases, 
 often going into Court. 
 
 I think the definite, and, until the War was over, the 
 unquestioned Tightness of his serving in the army pro- 
 duced a feeling of quiet and satisfaction which made his 
 soldier's life very happy, though his ultimate choice of 
 a profession was but postponed. The combination of 
 having to earn his own way in the world, and the intense 
 desire to serve his country in the House of Commons 
 and in working with kindred spirits for the betterment 
 of England, was never long absent from his mind. 
 
 C
 
 34 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 Gilbert's great love of his home has been mentioned 
 more than once. One feature of this was his delight in 
 long talks with his father for whom he had an extreme 
 veneration lasting, it must be said, into uncouth hours 
 of the morning. 
 
 His visits to his sister May at Repton and Harrow 
 were, too, great pleasures to him. Her small boys he 
 thought " adorable," and he had endless fun with them 
 at Harrow and Farnham. May writes: 
 
 I delighted in his visits here. He used to arrive (pre- 
 ceded often by a telephone message) full to the hilt of 
 plans and wishes, and more than prepared to make of 
 " The Headmaster's " that pied-a-terre for London which 
 we accused him of making it. We used to chaff him 
 about this, as the latchkey was pressed into his hand, 
 and we knew that he would arrive home in the early 
 hours after the Play, and go off to London next morning 
 after a late breakfast! 
 
 He always arrived brimful of affection and chaff a 
 real interest in one's life and he was very appreciative 
 of the like in return. 
 
 I have a vivid recollection of the dinner I had with 
 him and two friends, in the garden of 8, Long Wall 
 Street, on the last Saturday evening of his last Summer 
 Term at Oxford. He was so eagerly pleased at the 
 dinner which was "just so" being laid out in that 
 fascinating little garden; he was so eagerly happy at 
 being host so good a master of the ceremonies. He did 
 not let me go without getting some music out of me, and 
 so rounding off the evening to fill the situation out to 
 its limit was what he was out for always. 
 
 For Lionel Ford he had the greatest admiration for 
 his work as Headmaster, entering with quick intuition 
 into his problems and methods. Lionel writes of him :
 
 HOME 35 
 
 ... His conversational powers were extraordinarily 
 brilliant. No one could describe a scene more pic- 
 turesquely not a point omitted or forgotten, not a 
 touch of the humorous side of things missed. He loved 
 to state a case step by step, almost as a leading counsel 
 might develop his brief in an action at law, and I used 
 to wonder at the mental processes by which he reached 
 such easy mastery of the facts and such lucid marshal- 
 ling of them in impromptu speech. He was quick to 
 counter interruptions with telling repartee ; would flare 
 up suddenly if contradicted too flatly, but never failed 
 to appreciate friendly chaff. 
 
 We saw glimpses of him at Harrow during the year of 
 his service training. He never pretended that he liked 
 soldiering, or that he did not long for the war to end 
 before his time came to be called to the front. But when 
 it was clear he must go, there was no sort of repining or 
 turning back, though he realized quite plainly the whole 
 of the risk involved, and occasionally talked about it 
 quite without reserve. I think what he dreaded was not 
 death so much as a mutilated life ; that would have been 
 very hard for him to face, with his full-blooded activity 
 and his intense joie-de-vivre. I sometimes said to him 
 that I thought his life's motto had always been " Let me 
 taste the whole of it," and he did not disagree. 1 He has 
 tasted the whole now, and not flinched from the last 
 measure of devotion, which I am sure he had faced out 
 in advance. I remember well one evening in my study 
 at Harrow, when the conversation had drifted rather 
 near the thought of that possibility, how suddenly he 
 started out of his armchair and for a minute or two 
 paced the room in silence, with a look in his face that 
 the deep waters " had gone over his soul." We spoke no 
 more till the tide was past, and then only on trivialities, 
 but I never felt quite so near to him in tenderness and 
 sympathy as in those moments, when I knew he was 
 
 1 It was this which gave such high significance to his repugnance 
 to the moral licence which the phrase is sometimes used to justify.
 
 36 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 facing his Gethsemane, and I just dumbly writing by his 
 side. 
 
 From Lady Gwendolen Cecil 
 
 The Lodge House, Hatfield. 
 
 ... I am thinking of the dear boy during the time 
 (autumn of 'n) that he spent here while you were in 
 America especially a long talk walking up and down 
 in the garden, while he spoke of his ideals of manly 
 purity and knightliness so fierce in his scorn of the 
 low standards that he had met with so anxious to 
 assert the higher and do battle for the right: so ardent, 
 so uncompromising, so confident: so young and so 
 superior in his youth to one's own cold, middle-aged 
 acquiescence in what was. . . . He sought for some high 
 service and he has been called to the highest. . . . 
 
 I have found in Gilbert's letters several times a sort of 
 questioning with himself on the great subject of self- 
 sacrifice, and the offering of even life for one greatly 
 loved. I think the following extracts have a peculiar 
 significance in the light of what was to come. 
 
 To a Friend 
 
 Farnham. July 12, '12. 
 
 I spent last Sunday here, alone with Mother and a 
 very attractive cousin, Bertram Talbot, whom I'm fonder 
 of, I think, than any of my relations. 
 
 ... I Ve always wondered whether I could give up my 
 life for somebody else's. I suppose if one really acted 
 ideally one ought always to let others be saved before 
 oneself. Whether one would do it or not is another 
 matter, as on the " Titanic." But I don 't think that is 
 the real test. The real test would be in some sudden 
 moment of danger or crisis when there was no time to 
 think, and what one did would be by instinct only. I
 
 RELIGION 37 
 
 mean if one saw a blow about to fall on someone which 
 would kill them, whether one would save them by put- 
 ting one's own body in the way. At such a moment I 
 think only real love would make one do it the instinct 
 of perfect love in which one's own individual self is 
 completely eclipsed by the person loved. I can easily 
 imagine the situation in which it would be no effort to 
 me to throw away my own life. I 've always felt that 
 Browning touched an extraordinarily true note when he 
 makes Pompilia say in " The Ring and the Book," as 
 she lies dying : 
 
 O lover of my life, O soldier saint, 
 
 Who put his breast between the spears and me. 
 
 She couldn't pay a higher tribute to the depth and purity 
 of his love. All this idea has always seemed to me the 
 very quintessence of romance. It 's this that provides 
 the intense romance in the life of Christ, and in a lesser 
 degree makes a " A Tale of Two Cities " such a great 
 book. There seems to me to have never been said any- 
 thing more poignantly human than " Greater love hath 
 no man than this," etc. 
 
 Of Gilbert's inner life, and the religion which stood 
 him in good stead, I should like to say a little. As a 
 child and boy he was delightful to teach from the Bible. 
 His great love of beauty from early childhood made him 
 delight in the services at St. John the Divine, Kennington. 
 He often went there on Sunday mornings with his sister 
 May, and he was very fond of Canon Brooke and of his 
 sister, who kindly let him pretty often study the pictures 
 of Tissot's New Testament, to his extreme delight. After 
 the break at Southwark Cathedral he lost his early delight 
 in Church services, except at St. Paul's and Winchester 
 Chapel, but he always remained a frequent communicant, 
 holding almost passionately the conviction that the
 
 38 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 realization of the Person of Our Lord is the rock on 
 which Christianity rests and that union with His self- 
 dedication was the spring alike of worship and of duty. 
 This conviction was to go with him to his death, and 
 there be sealed. 
 
 This it was which most powerfully affected him when 
 he saw the Passion Play at Ammergau in 1910, and also 
 which drew him so closely into the Mission at Oxford 
 under Bishop Gore in 1914. 
 
 The Bishop writes (4 August 1915) from Cuddesdon: 
 
 ... I am so thankful that I was allowed to see some- 
 thing of his resolute religion at the time of the Mission. 
 
 He delighted in fine and honest preaching, in particular 
 I remember his appreciation of Father Stanton, and 
 always of his father. His was, if it is possible to say so, 
 a simple faith, curiously untouched in the deepest part 
 by his Oxford reading, and by the ferments of modern 
 thought. He was moreover a great reader of very modern 
 books. 
 
 And it was all deepened by all that the last ten months 
 of his life brought him, of experience and responsibility, 
 and the shadow of danger and death over him and his 
 friends. Six weeks before he fell he wrote from the front 
 
 to a friend : 
 
 British Expeditionary Force. 
 June '15. 
 
 I want you to have religion as a real thing in life. 
 Sometimes I think you don't get the chance of knowing 
 what it is. Try hard to get it into your life as the back- 
 ground of everything, and the great resort in trouble. It 
 is not just a matter of being good, and going to church 
 it is romance love adventure peace beauty. Pray 
 hard sometimes and pray for me when you do.
 
 RELIGION 39 
 
 And, again, to Hermione Lyttelton : 
 
 British Expeditionary Force. 
 June '15. 
 
 I felt comforted the other day out here when Neville 
 came to see me. I was saying that one felt such an atom 
 out here, and if one was killed, one would only be like a 
 bit of sand on the sea-shore. Neville said the thing to 
 think of was the penitent thief saying to Our Lord on 
 the Cross, " Lord, remember me" and then the infinite 
 graciousness of the answer. The greatest drama of the 
 world was going on, yet Jesus had the time to think of 
 an obscure criminal. 
 
 In December 1911 he writes to the same : 
 
 I am delighted that you were impressed with . 
 
 He is a really great man, and the services at his church 
 are what I like. The religion there is not formal it is 
 alive it is personal. I think there is in the minds of so 
 many people a misunderstanding of what the Christian 
 religion really is. It is not a philosophy, or a system of 
 ethics; it is not a somewhat wiser way of talking about 
 God. It is a direct revelation from God in the person of 
 Jesus Christ. It all turns on what men think Christ to 
 be. Christ was not the perfect man. He was God. The 
 teaching of the Gospel is that God took man's nature 
 upon Him, and as God dwelt among men that because 
 He became a man, and because He was God, He has 
 given Himself as a permanent means of approaching God. 
 That is the doctrine taught when Christ says, " Come 
 unto Me all ye that are weary . . . and I will refresh 
 you. 
 
 Before leaving Oxford in June 1914, a most delightful 
 offer had come from a great friend of Gilbert's, Geoffrey 
 Colman, that Gilbert should be his travelling companion 
 on a nine months' trip round the world, starting, in July,
 
 40 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 with Canada, and including visits to Japan, China, and 
 India. No proposal ever received so delighted, enthusi- 
 astic, and grateful a welcome, and the plans and arrange- 
 ments and joyous anticipation and novelty of the great 
 trip made the months full of joy. 
 
 Harlech. Easter Day 1914. 
 
 . . . Meanwhile, my chief and all-important item of 
 news is in Mrs. Colman's letter which I enclose with 
 the most magnificent offer for me to travel with Geoffrey 
 round the world, and paying for my fares. . . . I've been 
 delirious with joy since it arrived. ... I've not to go as 
 tutor to anyone, but simply travel with a most delight- 
 ful friend and companion. It 's like a sort of miraculous 
 gift in the Arabian Nights. Since the letter came I've 
 done nothing but hug myself with excitement in the 
 intervals of work. Just think of the luck of it! I do feel 
 so horribly undeservedly lucky at this wonderful chance 
 falling into my lap like this. I've written a long letter 
 to Mrs. Colman in which I've tried to tell her how grate- 
 ful I feel. ... I do feel so awfully grateful and thankful. 
 I think an offer like this falls to the lot of very few people. 
 . . . And I am trying to be thankful before GOD. . . . 
 
 But just before they started on 31 July 1914, there 
 had come the shadow of the War, and though, hoping 
 against hope, they did get off and got as far as Quebec, 
 Mrs. Colman and I felt and our sons felt on the plat- 
 form of Liverpool Street Station, that probably England 
 would be involved, and that both would have to return 
 to take their part in the War. And so it was. Even on 
 the voyage out, a German cruiser pursued their ship 
 the Calgarian the whole way across the Atlantic, with- 
 out the passengers knowing of it though they were
 
 THE WAR 41 
 
 requested to close all the port-holes at night the ship 
 rushing through the night without any lights. It was 
 only on arriving at Remowski on the St. Lawrence 
 River, where the ship was received by a crowd of people 
 with band and Union Jack flying and " God save the 
 King," that any of the passengers knew that war had 
 been declared, and of the grave danger they had been in 
 or realized the admirable coolness and pluck of the 
 captain. Wireless telegraphyhad informed the Canadians 
 of what had happened. After a most depressing twelve 
 hours in Quebec, the keenly-disappointed friends returned 
 in the next ship to England, where they at once sent in 
 their names to the War Office, and in September found 
 themselves in an officers' training camp at Churm, along- 
 side countless university and public school men. 
 
 A month's most strenuous training was got through 
 in beautiful weather, with a considerable amount of en- 
 joyment and zest, in most congenial company. Gilbert 
 shared a tent with Mr. Kay-Shuttleworth, and they were 
 devoted to their Colonel, Colonel Maclachlan, after- 
 wards Colonel of the 8th Battalion of the Rifle Brigade. 
 The friends were given commissions in the'/th Battalion 
 of the Rifle Brigade. 
 
 It was the deep and earnest conviction in the righteous- 
 ness of the cause for which England joined the War, 
 that made Gilbert a keen soldier, and this conviction grew 
 and deepened as the months went by. He did not wish 
 any more than before the outbreak of the War to take 
 up soldiering as a profession, but he did become a most 
 keen, efficient and strict officer, delighting in the learn- 
 ing of so much that was new and interesting, and especi- 
 ally in the responsibility of having the fifty-four men of
 
 42 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 his platoon under his direct control, and watching their 
 development and excellent progress. The bottom of it all 
 and of the kindling enthusiasm was the great cause of 
 freedom for which the Allies were fighting. 
 
 He writes from Churm to Hermione Lyttelton : 
 
 Churm. 
 
 September $rd, 1914. 
 
 . . . This isn't play. We drill and are lectured to for 
 ten hours a day the most utterly tiring thing I've ever 
 done. But I'm taking to it rather kindly, and when one 
 reads the papers it 's good to feel one 's doing every 
 bit one can . . . 
 
 . . . Whatever else is true of life, one thing is certain 
 that I am doing the right thing now and that every ounce 
 in me must go to it till the end. The War is amazingly 
 inspiring, and all the Belgian stories and all the devilish 
 and damnable horrors that these swine inflict on the 
 women and children make one long to get there though 
 I don't flatter myself I should find war congenial ! . . . 
 It 's all magnificent really it 's purging us all. . . . 
 
 ... I can't imagine wanting to be a peace soldier, but 
 it 's wonderful to be doing it now. And I still can't help 
 reading the war news and the casualty lists without a 
 sense of wondering whether some day one's turn will 
 come, and whether it is possible to imagine a finer thing 
 happening to me, and which at the same time would 
 deal for ever with all troubles and difficulties in this 
 world. . . . 
 
 After the training at Churm, his Brigade was quar- 
 tered at Aldershot and Bordon and back again to 
 Aldershot; he constantly came over to Farnham and 
 also brought over his friends. He delighted in the 
 very warm friendship that he made with his fellow
 
 THE WAR 43 
 
 officers. A life so concentrated and in such close 
 quarters, with all the immense reality understood in a 
 kind of quiet and silent way between them as to what it 
 all meant, made a few months' friendship greater and 
 deeper than many of a much longer time; they shared 
 too in a very great and genuine pride for their Brigade 
 and Battalions. 
 
 The following extracts from officers of his Battalion 
 and others, written after the fatal day at Hooge, show 
 what this friendship was. 
 
 From Col. Heriot-Maitland(O.C., Jth Bait. Rifle Brigade) 
 
 Aug. i. '15. 
 
 . . . Gilbert's strong character and his devotion to his 
 men and to his duty were beautiful. It is some satis- 
 faction to know that he was attacking the enemy at the 
 time, and that it was not the result of a stray bullet in 
 the trenches. 
 
 From Sir Archibald Hunter (G.O.C., Aldershot Command} 
 
 Government House, Farnborough. 
 
 tfh August, 1915. 
 
 . . . Your son was loved and trusted in his Battalion 
 and was an honour to it. 
 
 From Major H. D. Ross (2nd in Command, Jth Batt. 
 
 Rifle Brigade} 
 
 yh August, 1915. 
 
 . . . Gilbert died leading his men. No one could have 
 done more. All the men of his company were very 
 much attached to him, and when we heard in the middle 
 of the action that he had been hit, several men at once 
 volunteered to go and bring him in, although the enemy's 
 fire was still very heavy. Two lots started, but as the
 
 44 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 men in each were hit, the attempt had to be given up. 
 To us he is a great loss, as he was always in good spirits 
 and cheery, and had something amusing to say. . . . 
 
 From Capt. E.J.Kay-Shuttleworth, "jth Batt. Rifle Brigade 
 
 3rd August, 1915. 
 
 .... I should like to tell you how last I saw him 
 rushing gallantly forward to the attack : he was about 
 50 yards to my left and was passing just behind a little 
 knoll, waving his arm and calling to his splendid men 
 to follow him, which they did, in a magnificent attempt 
 to regain what had been lost in the early morning 
 through liquid fire. 
 
 His humour, his great fund of good stories, his wide 
 reading and many interests all made him a wonderfully 
 good companion out here. 
 
 As you know, we shared a tent last September at 
 Churm, we shared a room at Aldershot later, and we 
 have always been together out here. . . . 
 
 I cannot express to you how much I miss him. . . . 
 
 Sergeant J, L. Chumley (now a Commissioned Officer) 
 
 Aug. '15. 
 
 . . . Lieutenant Gilbert Talbot was a brave, fearless 
 leader, strict on parade and yet highly respected by all 
 ranks. He and I were the best of friends, and no man in 
 our Battalion will feel his loss more acutely than myself. 
 Had he survived last Friday's assault, I feel sure he 
 would have been proud of the Platoon he spent so much 
 time and patience in training. On his whistle, they 
 advanced through that wood in one straight line, just as 
 if they might have been on an Aldershot drill ground, 
 although under terrific shell, rifle, and machine-gun fire. 
 I am told his servant Nash behaved most bravely : 
 although badly wounded himself, he tried his best to 
 assist his master, and got hit a second time in his 
 attempt. . . .
 
 THE WAR 45 
 
 From L. Merriam, Lieut. Jth Batt. Rifle Brigade 
 
 Aug. 5. 
 
 I cannot tell vou what a shock it was to see Gilbert's 
 death in the paper. . . . There is only one left from 
 C Company. I was with Gilbert from the beginning of 
 the war, and he always kept us so bright and cheerful, 
 both out at the front and while we were training at home. 1 
 
 From Mrs. Kay-Shuttlewortli, wife of Capt. Kay- 
 Shuttleworth, 7th Batt. Rifle Brigade 
 
 Cambridge, 
 
 6th August, 1915. 
 
 . . . Gilbert and Ted (her husband) had shared a tent 
 at Churm and had already been friends before that, so 
 that, before I was married, from hearing so much of him 
 from Ted I felt I knew him quite well even without see- 
 ing him. Ted always said that Gilbert being there made 
 all the difference, and I could not fail to see that he 
 realized what a lot they all owed to your son at the 
 beginning, when things were most difficult. By his excel- 
 lent example he inspired others to be keen. I do not 
 think I ever met anyone more brilliant in conversation, 
 and I shall never forget his talk and fun one wet day at 
 Aldershot. . . . Gilbert was inimitable, and I felt so grate- 
 ful to him for his kindness to me. I know everyone loved 
 him. He seemed to me rather special amongst all the 
 others. I cannot rightly tell you how sad I feel that this 
 calamity should have befallen our beautiful Brigade. . . . 
 I can only sit dazed at the misery of it all. . . . 
 
 From Sergeant Shepherd (one of the East Yorkshire 
 Infantry men, who brought in the body on 8 August) 
 
 . . . We are only humble soldiers, but we all deeply 
 sympathize with you in your great loss. 
 
 1 Gilbert and Mr. Merriam were billeted together for many 
 weeks, near Farnham.
 
 46 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 From the position of his body, which was in front of 
 the other unfortunate men of the Rifle Brigade, who 
 gave their lives in battle, clearly shows that he gave his 
 life as a leader, and he must have been a very brave man 
 to have got to the position in which he was. . . . 
 
 From Rifleman Dent 
 
 . . . Having known your son over a year, I can 
 honestly say that England has lost a man who would 
 have made his mark in the years to come. . . He was 
 loved by everybody, and we would all forsake an after- 
 noon's sport when we were all in England to hear him 
 at a lecture. When we were at Tilford he often lectured 
 to Numbers 9 and 10 Platoons, and after one of these I 
 remember a man of Number 10 saying " I wish he was 
 our officer: I could listen to him for hours." The night 
 Sergeant Dawson was killed, he nearly cried, and 
 reproached himself for letting Sergeant Dawson go out 
 on such a dangerous undertaking but it was necessary : 
 a dead German was on our parados, and the smell was 
 upsetting the men, so you see the body had to be 
 shifted. . . . 
 
 From Rifleman Norton 
 
 ... I liked him so very much, and so did all the 
 boys in the platoon. He always was a very good speaker, 
 and I could sit and enjoy it for hours. I would have 
 gone anywhere with him, he had such a very good 
 head. , 
 
 Gilbert's facility of speech stood him in good stead 
 with his men, and his lectures were keenly followed and 
 well attended, the men often preferring to come to hear 
 him even on a holiday. Other Companies occasionally 
 joined in too. He lectured to them on all sorts of subjects
 
 THE WAR 47 
 
 the history and the traditions of the Rifle Brigade, straight 
 talks on moral questions, the splendid advance of the 
 Russians in November and December 1914, their tactics, 
 German methods and their strength and weakness, etc. 
 
 Then, though he was very strict, he knew his men in- 
 timately and helped them in troubles of their own, and 
 when any were killed he wrote most fully and sym- 
 pathetically, with careful descriptions of where they fell, 
 etc., to the parents and wives and so on. He greatly 
 helped the Chaplain of the Brigade in making it easy for 
 him to get into touch with his platoon, and encouraging 
 him to do this freely, as did several other officers in his 
 Battalion. 
 
 He took to heart in a very real way his Colonel's 
 words: "Remember you are responsible for 54 lives; 
 not 55 your own doesn't count" 
 
 Then there was the fun: the lightheartedness of 
 young men together, and Gilbert's particular cheeriness 
 and love of good and amusing stories and encouraging 
 spirit when things were depressing. His capacity for 
 seeing the humorous side of a situation now stood both 
 him and his companions in good stead. One of his fellow 
 officers, writing of some amusing incident which had 
 occurred in the day's work of training in France, says : 
 
 Talbot's account of it over a cup of cocoa in Captain 
 Drummond's dug-out at 3 a.m. made us shake with 
 laughter for nearly half an hour. 
 
 He began the plan of reading aloud in their rest times, 
 and we have heard from many sources what the fun was 
 and the shouts of laughter from his reading aloud of 
 "Some Experiences of an Irish R.M."
 
 48 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 " Philippa's First Fox-hunt " was a special success. 
 Captain Hardy, one of his fellow officers (alas, killed at 
 Hooge a few days before Gilbert) sent home for another 
 volume. " I never heard such reading aloud before," he 
 said. 
 
 After a rather long and trying delay the whole party 
 was delighted to set out on 19 May 1915, crossing with 
 that wonderful rapidity of organization which put the 
 whole Brigade on to the ship from the train, and vice versa, 
 in seven minutes. 
 
 Of Gilbert's two months and a half in France and 
 Flanders the following extracts from his diary, etc., will 
 tell their own tale. The early part was one of consider- 
 able enjoyment, with beautiful weather, and the marching 
 across so much of the country between Boulogne and 
 Poperinghe was very pleasant. Gilbert evidently was 
 developing quickly on the practical side, and was a very 
 resourceful, efficient officer, constantly in demand in all 
 kinds of difficulties in camp and otherwise, and bringing in 
 a lot of fun and good cheer with his talk and good stories. 
 
 From Rifleman Nash (Gilbert's servant, who so faith- 
 fully served him to the end) I gained the following 
 impression of his position in his platoon : 
 
 Nash gave a strong idea of the high opinion the men 
 of his platoon had of Gilbert they liked his lectures 
 so much and thought him so clever (" a very learned 
 gentleman") and a born leader, who would have been 
 followed anywhere. He seemed to be constantly con- 
 sulted by different people. He was very strict with his 
 men, but they liked him the better for that, and they 
 appreciated his high tone, and his expecting the best out 
 of them.
 
 AT THE FRONT 49 
 
 He dwelt on his great care for his men as to health, 
 comfort, etc. he always saw to all being as well arranged 
 as was possible for them before he turned in himself, not 
 leaving it to the sergeants till he felt satisfied all was 
 right. 
 
 He noticed how much tidier he became out in France 
 instead of getting at what he wanted by pulling things 
 out anyhow, and leaving letters about, the letters he had 
 were carefully tied together and the things left in order. 
 
 He was always in excellent spirits, was the life of the 
 party in the crater, and very cheery, and very cool-headed 
 in the trenches under fire. Norbury and he were two of 
 the coolest. 
 
 He became very proud of the platoon, about which 
 Nash had no doubt that it was " the best in the battalion." 
 He was a constant topic of talk. They were sure he 
 would be captain directly. He kept up their spirits that 
 Friday (30 July) wonderfully, and was very calm and 
 confident. 
 
 He had, however, his serious times, and talked con- 
 stantly of home, and of his first hoped-for bit of leave, 
 due about two or three weeks after the Hooge attack. 
 "Is there anything from Farnham, Harrow or London?" 
 he would ask. " What a treat it will be to get back to 
 the Castle and see them all." 
 
 Below are some extracts from Gilbert's diary, which 
 he kept regularly, and took pains with: 
 
 May 20, '15. 
 
 . . . The small French village in which we are billeted 
 is about thirty or more miles due west of the place where 
 there 's a famous salient in the British line and ten miles 
 due north of Sir J. French's headquarters. Everybody 
 arrived v. done, and it took a little time to find all our 
 billets, get the men in and settled, though all the organiza- 
 tion was good, and it was not till a quarter to four that 
 
 D
 
 50 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 I found myself free to go to bed. I am lucky, being in the 
 house of a miller, with a pleasant tiled bedroom with a 
 capital bed with sheets ! The men are in two barns, both 
 quite near me quite comfortable, with lots of straw, 
 though one of them has chickens and pigs as very near 
 neighbours : in fact last night a pig made an entry and 
 woke my sergeant by stepping on his face. The French 
 are extremely friendly, and light French beer, coffee and 
 food flows freely, though money is short among the men. 
 Of course billets like this, well away from the firing line, 
 are very different from those close up. Everything seems 
 as usual here, except rather an absence of men. In fact 
 war seems more remote here than it did in England, 
 except for the persistent dull rumble to the north and 
 east. It 's a real rest and refreshment, more like a picnic 
 than anything else. The country is lovely and the weather 
 fine, the crops and wild flowers and all the countryside 
 are lush and luxuriant, and my hostess makes divine 
 omelettes. Everybody is seizing the opportunity to get 
 their clothes washed. Officers eat in an "estaminet" 
 where " Bones " l lives, and have so far done well in our 
 own and Government food, and the admirable French 
 beer. 
 
 Whitsunday, iyd May, 1915. 
 
 The feature of this and the following days has been 
 the amazing glorious weather. Not a cloud day or night 
 full moon all the latter and blazing sun all the former, 
 mercifully just saved by a pleasant breeze. The country 
 doesn't get a bit dry because of the extraordinarily good 
 canal irrigation. The result is most gorgeous : rich, green 
 country, amazingly fertile, with delicious pasture, and 
 crops far in advance of anything in England. . . . Heaps 
 of the work is done by women in sunbonnets, but even so 
 one wonders how they'll get the crops in. I've seen no 
 young men at all. 
 
 1 " Bones " represents Captain Drummond. He was killed on 
 30 July. -
 
 DIARY FROM THE FRONT 51 
 
 May 2%th, 1915. 
 
 We made another fairly early start from our last 
 halting place, and set out on the hot day's march, which 
 was to bring us actually to the firing line. This proved 
 to be a short one, only some seven miles, and we halted 
 at a tiny village some 34- miles short of the firing line, 
 where we went into " close billets." The weather was 
 hotter, and after our long marching we were glad we 
 had no more. . . . This farm where I write is the 
 grubbiest I've yet been in. The barn where the men 
 sleep was indescribably foul filthy straw, old clothes, 
 stale food, odd bits of equipment, etc., etc., etc. all old and 
 filthy and verminous; besides which were picked up over 
 2,000 cartridges (unused) about the place. This all shows 
 that the discipline of some of the Terrier Battalions who 
 preceded us is in these ways bad. Most of the men had 
 to bivouac out the first night, and pretty chilly they 
 were, though some still prefer to sleep out in rather in- 
 genious bivouacs made of waterproof sheets. In the end, 
 we got the whole place decent and a credit to the R.B. 
 refuse buried, all the old mucky straw got out and burnt 
 and new straw laid down. The Colonel came round yester- 
 day and seemed pleased ; only the Company is here 
 under my command, with Shoveller, a fellow-subaltern 
 (he came over to Farnham once or twice) ; the other 
 2 platoons are with " Bones " (Captain Drummond). 
 
 May 26. 
 
 The night we arrived, the Battn. was paraded and 
 addressed by Sir Charles Fergusson, who commanded 
 the 2nd Corps to which we are attached. You remember 
 he did so well at the beginning of the war and then 
 came home. He dined at Farnham one night and 
 was most thrilling. His speech was jolly, and gave us 
 news. . . . Sir Charles made an encouraging and rather 
 inspiring speech, also telling us to be careful of the in- 
 structions we're given about the gas and also not to be 
 careless of needless risks in the trenches. So early to bed.
 
 52 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 Monday, 31 st May. 
 
 We're off to the trenches in an hour. I don't think 
 you need worry about this go, which I think will be re- 
 latively pretty quiet. I can't help feeling merely rather 
 excited and curious. Anyhow, here goes. 
 
 We started for the trenches on a hot evening 
 (May 7th) and had a march of some 3 miles, arriving 
 in the dark. Everybody's nerves were a little on edge 
 as we went, being entirely new to the business. We 
 were accompanied by a nice officer of the Terriers, to 
 whom we were to be attached, but who talked in a cool 
 way of it all that was bred partly of genuine familiarity 
 and partly of a desire to impress us. And it was both 
 interesting and exciting to hear the rifle fire grow louder 
 as we approached and to watch the lights of the flares 
 that both sides send up all night. I must honestly say that 
 before we started, and when we got there I felt surpris- 
 ingly unfrightened, and much more curious than anything 
 else. . . . When the men were in the trenches I got off 
 my pack and put it into a dug-out and sought out the 
 subaltern to whose platoon mine was attached. I found 
 him an absolute boy of 18, fresh from school, who'd 
 been out some 3 weeks. His name was Peake. I liked 
 him, and thought him awfully plucky. After all the men 
 were at their posts, he asked me to come with him and 
 visit his " listening post." ... Of course, I said I should 
 like to go, so we went along to the extreme left end of 
 the trench and crawled out on our stomachs into the 
 crater, formed by a howitzer shell some 10 to 15 yards 
 out. The worst part was the stink a stink that soon 
 gets terribly familiar, and which in this case was caused 
 by several unburied Frenchmen who were close by and 
 who nobody could get at to bury. The Listening Post 
 reported to us that they thought they had seen the 
 figures of 2 Germans working on their parapet. Just 
 after this, the enemy must have smelt a rat of some 
 kind, either having caught sight of the tops of our heads 
 or heard something. But a machine gun opposite and
 
 DIARY FROM THE FRONT 53 
 
 some rifle fire began to let drive ; but as we were well 
 down on our faces in the shell crater, the shots went 
 over our heads. We waited till it subsided and then 
 crawled back. I was interested by all this, and excited, 
 though there was nothing in the least unusual in it. 
 Listening Posts are always out and have to be frequently 
 visited by the subalterns. Usually it's perfectly safe 
 work. . . . 
 
 It's marvellous when one hears the stories of what men 
 have stuck to out here. They said that in the winter, 
 when the mud in the trenches came up to men's thighs, 
 a party which started to carry rations up the communica- 
 tion trench at 9.30 p.m. failed to reach the fire trenches till 
 6 a.m., and then with half the stuff lost on the way. . . . 
 The real break was the unexpected appearance of 
 Neville to luncheon with me fresh from England 
 passing through as his Battn. moved north. 
 
 . . . These infernal labour people must buck upwith the 
 shells. I saw a Battn. yesterday, 200 strong only, which 
 had been in and out of the same trenches for over 
 6 months, and for the time being they are really beat, 
 done. It's heartbreaking. And with the ammunition 
 everybody 's confident we could bang right through 
 to-morrow. But I don't want you to think we're gloomy. 
 We're not. We're very lively and in good spirits and 
 intend to remain so. , . . 
 
 I saw an unfortunate Territorial shot in the head and 
 killed in exactly the same spot as our rifleman of the 
 day before obviously the same sniper. I hated it in- 
 tensely, and the utter uselessness of that sort of casualty 
 made one realize that modern warfare is a wicked thing. 
 But I was glad for the future's sake that I didn't feel 
 squeamish a bit. 
 
 June 7. 
 
 I forgot to say that I attended an Early Celebration 
 which Green-Wilkinson held for us, which drew a lot of 
 people. It was moving rather, as we were all serious out
 
 54 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 there in the lovely morning sunshine our service was in 
 the wood, with the R.C. chaplain saying Mass in the next 
 field. 
 
 June gth. 
 
 .... In the evening I had orders to take 100 men and 
 act as carrying party to the 8th R.B. ... As it hap- 
 pened, this turned out rather an eventful night. I left at 
 8.30 p.m. and got to the 8th R.B. Headquarters at 9 ... 
 I reported myself to the Colonel, Ronnie Maclachlan, 
 who I was under at Churm, who was delightful though 
 very short of sleep . . . He said that the Communication 
 trench was quite impassable, owing to the heavy rain 
 which had come after the great heat of the last day or 
 two, and that the carrying party of the evening before 
 had lost some of the stores altogether in the mud. 
 Accordingly we were to go " over-land." It was a little 
 risky, but much quicker. My 100 men were divided into 
 4 parts, each part to carry for a separate Coy. and we 
 started. I went with one party myself got there and 
 back in about an hour. The path was muddy and there 
 were a good many bullets flying about, but we were 
 none the worse and deposited the stores. The one trench 
 I went into was odious, ankle deep in mud, and water 
 sometimes knee-deep. I got back to Headquarters about 
 II, and found that 3 out of my 4 parties were back, but 
 that one was not! I sent the 3 home and settled down 
 to a long wait. I had no idea where they were or why 
 they weren't back, and we didn't know where to look for 
 them. I got on the Field Telephone to the various Coys, 
 but with no result. And I walked up and down the path 
 outside the Brewery with Joe Parker, the charming 
 Adjutant of the 8th, till we both got very weary. At last, 
 as day broke, at to 3, they turned up. It appears that 
 what with the deep mud and the heavy stores the men 
 in rear had got cut off, from being unable to keep up, and 
 so got lost. They couldn't find their way in the maze of 
 trenches, and could do nothing but wait till they were
 
 DIARY FROM THE FRONT 55 
 
 found by an officer, who put them straight. I marched 
 them home and sunk into bed at 3.15. . . . 
 
 June loth. 
 
 . . . We found the trenches deep in mud, slush and 
 water. In most places one had to drag one's feet one 
 after another slowly out of the mud. The reason why 
 they were so bad was that these trenches had been held 
 by a really tired-out Brigade for some 4 months, reduced 
 by casualties and unable to keep the trenches in proper 
 repair. It gave one some dim idea of what men went 
 through in the winter. Well, we struggled into our 
 trenches, very beat and covered with mud from head to 
 foot, and I took over from Billy Grenfell, who was the 
 subaltern holding the trench before me. This was about 
 2 o'clock, and we " stood to " at once. 
 
 June ntk. 
 
 By daylight the trench was not as bad as you might 
 have thought. We soon got them dryer, flinging out the 
 mud and water and putting down dry earth. There were 
 certainly some dangerous places in them, where one had 
 to keep very low. I got an hour or two's sleep in a dug- 
 out, which was very odorous, in the morning, and then 
 the day passed as days in trenches do. ... A tragedy 
 has happened: one of the very best and jolliest of my 
 platoon was shot through the head on my listening post. 
 It was pure chance a stray bullet and very bad luck, 
 as they were concealed in a good place. I was sent for 
 at once just along the trench, and we got him into the 
 trench. The doctor was got in due course and said it 
 was utterly hopeless, as he was shot through the brain. 
 We kept him in the trench, and he lived some 10 hours, 
 but was never conscious. It was an ordinary enough 
 casualty, hundreds happen every day but I was sorry 
 for it, as he was a very favourite little fellow, infinitely 
 cheery and conscientious, perfectly simple. I'd have
 
 56 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 counted on him anywhere. I think I felt in him for the 
 first time by personal experience how fine a soldier's 
 death is. 
 
 June \-$th. 
 
 We slept and rested and ate and washed all this day 
 and the night, and attended a church parade held by 
 Green-Wilkinson. 
 
 Then early the next morning June \^th at seven we 
 moved again some 7 miles. I won't say where, as I 
 think it 's going to be of some significance. . . . Every- 
 body has had parcels from home (which we looked for and 
 welcomed more than much fine gold}. . . . Last night it was 
 felt the occasion was too good to lose, and Phillip Collins 
 (who is our Mess President) and Ted Shuttleworth went 
 to the neighbouring town to buy supplies. So it was a 
 fine evening. We hung the tent, which is open on three 
 sides, with wild roses from the hedges, and discovered 
 that we'd got some eggs, cherries, strawberries, and three 
 bottles of champagne! We made an awful noise, and 
 somehow it felt quite like Oxford. . . . 
 
 To-day, June 15, ... I have been reading the papers. 
 Nobody will make me believe that labour comes very 
 well out of this war. Lloyd-George is wonderful, isn't he? 
 I think you should keep an eye on the reports from this 
 front for a bit too though I know absolutely nothing. 
 
 June 15. 
 
 I left off just before we left our bivouac in that pleasant 
 field some way back from the firing line at Poperinghe. 
 . . . We got orders about 9 p.m. that evening to get 
 ready to move at once. When the company had fallen in 
 the Adjutant came riding across the field and told us 
 the officers that we were to be in reserve for a big attack, 
 the main attack to be further south. . . . We were further 
 told that, as in all attacks in this trench warfare, it would 
 start with a heavy bombardment, to start in this case at
 
 DIARY FROM THE FRONT 57 
 
 2.50 a.m. and finish at 4.15, the last quarter hour to be 
 particularly intense. The infantry would then try and 
 rush the trenches. We were in the Corps reserve and 
 ready to move up at any minute. We told the men a lot 
 of this, and it was interesting as well as inspiring to see 
 how everybody's spirits rose at once, and we marched off 
 in fine form, the men singing and laughing like children. 
 We had about an hour or more's march over the rotten 
 French roads, and then halted about midnight at some 
 huts erected for troops. Here the men piled their arms 
 and were told to be ready to move instantly. Otherwise 
 they could sleep where they were. The night was very 
 chilly and misty, so that I've known better nights. I put 
 my overcoat over me and slept till just after 2, when I 
 awoke very cold and got up to walk about to keep 
 circulation going. A fair number of officers were doing 
 the same. By 2.50 most people were awake and listening 
 eagerly for the bombardment. It started punctual to the 
 second, but it was disappointing rather to listen to. ... 
 One expected a roar of artillery, being only four miles 
 from the guns, and got only some very persistent and con- 
 tinual explosions, which didn't seem very loud. Between 
 4 and 4.15 it increased a lot, and at 4.15 we were all 
 trying to imagine what the scene of the infantry attack 
 was being like and how far successful. It was now 
 daylight, and as time went on and nothing particular 
 happened, we most of us went to sleep again. I with 
 others found a heap of empty sand-bags and slept in the 
 sun till after 8. 
 
 In the afternoon, about 5, of June 17, I met Harry 
 Altham (who, as you know, is Staff Captain to our 
 Brigade). He asked me to go with him to see the ruins 
 of the town and of the famous Cloth Hall and Cathedral, 
 which had been visible all the time from our railway em- 
 bankment about i a mile away. I naturally went. 
 
 I find it very hard to give you any account of this 
 expedition which fairly describes it, or to avoid writing 
 mere journalese. It was, to start with, intensely moving.
 
 58 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 One visited the spot which since October has been held 
 by British arms in spite of attacks more violent and 
 persistent than had been dreamt of, and near to which 
 so many thousands of our finest men fell and are now 
 buried. Everybody almost connects the place with some 
 separate individual. It's a quiet little provincial town, 
 partly industrious, and partly just beautiful with its 
 Cathedral and Cloth Hall. The trenches were drawn in 
 a close circle round it, and perhaps never have efforts 
 so great been made to effect anything than the German 
 efforts to burst these few miles. One is partly moved 
 therefore and partly amazed. I despair of telling you 
 what the place looks like. It beggars description. The 
 suburbs of the town are comparatively intact, though 
 most houses there have been shelled. But the whole 
 inside is simply a desolation. You cannot imagine it 
 being rebuilt. We walked through the streets and found 
 not one house which was not a mere mass of ruins or 
 just a big heap of bricks. Of course there are fragments 
 that remain, some with odd familiar advertisements I 
 saw one of Singer's Sewing Machines. Odder than any- 
 thing is to go into any of the ruined houses. They 
 nearly all show signs of being abandoned in panic, with- 
 out their owners waiting so much as to pick up anything: 
 half eaten meals are on the tables: clothes lie in con- 
 fusion on the floors. Most people take away tiny little 
 bits of loot: I put a few little lace bobbins in my pocket. 
 And then we came into the famous Place. The Cloth 
 Hall, roofless and ruined, lies all the way down one side, 
 and the Cathedral is just beyond it. The whole square 
 is covered with loose stones and rubble. As everywhere 
 else in the town,there 's not a livinglsoul to be seen, except 
 passing British soldiers. We wandered through the Cloth 
 Hall and saw the fragments of the famous frescoes, and 
 oddly came upon two hearses pushed inside there by 
 some chance. I didn't go into the Cathedral till the next 
 day. It 's not quite as big as Southwark and must have 
 been very lovely. Now it 's got no roof and there are
 
 DIARY FROM THE FRONT 59 
 
 huge holes in the walls, and the aisles are heaped high 
 with fallen masonry. I saw two shell holes which made 
 one gape, one by the Cloth Hall, one at the East end of 
 the Cathedral, the last the biggest, 16 yards across and 
 50 yards round: we measured it. 
 
 Nothing has brought the war home to me as has this 
 town. Its people had no connection with the war, no 
 interest in the war, and their lovely home has been 
 gutted until it's unrecognizable. I wish everybody in 
 England could see it. Harry and I remembered that 
 the last expedition we made together was to Oxford. 
 I tried to think of the peace and loveliness of Magdalen 
 and Christchurch on that May evening and to contrast 
 it with the blackened ruins we were now seeing. And we 
 thought what Prussian Militarism would do for Oxford 
 if it could. 
 
 . . . About n.o (Sunday, June iQth) we moved to 
 another lot of huts about % of a mile nearer Poperinghe. 
 In these huts we stayed for 1 1 days, waiting our turn. 
 We had perfect weather and life was fairly leisured and 
 pleasant. We spent the first day in putting up an Officers' 
 Mess for the Officers of two Companys B and C made 
 of sandbags, with a waterproof waggon cover spread over 
 some poles on the top. We then looted some tables and 
 chairs from one of the neighbouring houses which had 
 been shelled, and the place was quite snug. We had a 
 lot of jolly times in it these days. We just all fitted in 
 for meals and had some uproarious dinners. 
 
 The day after we arrived we were told we might go 
 and get baths at the 6th Division baths. We went, and 
 found huge tubs with almost unlimited hot water. I got 
 into one and lay curled in it like a kitten the first hot 
 bath since 1 had left England. 
 
 June 21. 
 
 I had managed to get a message to Neville, who I 
 knew was just north, and after I had spent an abortive 
 afternoon riding in search of him, the next day he rode
 
 60 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 over and had luncheon with us. He was well and fairly 
 cheerful, and found a great many friends from Oxford 
 and elsewhere in my Brigade: Billy Grenfell, Henry 
 Bowlby, Geoffrey Colman and so on. He was rather 
 envious of us in meeting so many people from Oxford, 
 and wished a little he was chaplain to our Brigade not 
 that he 's not fond enough of his own, he was so glad to 
 see Billy Grenfell. I like Billy very much indeed, as does 
 everybody. Some shells fell a little way off while Neville 
 was there, and we pushed him into a dug-out till it was 
 over. . . . 
 
 Of this visit (21 June) Neville writes: 
 
 I found Gilbert in a double Company Mess rigged 
 up under canvas stretched over a beam, and we had a 
 very cheerful luncheon. They are having some of the 
 sort of " picnic " days, which occur in a campaign all 
 the happier because they are still undiminished by 
 casualties. . . . Everyone was looking very blooming 
 and brown and hard they are a magnificent set of 
 fellows just young England at its best, and one's heart 
 rises in protest at the thought of the shears of death. 
 Yet they would never mostly have done anything 
 better than this. 
 
 I saw Gilbert again on July 22nd he passed me on 
 Scott Holland's " Bundle of Memories," and he was full 
 of excellent talk about Oliver's book, " Ordeal by Battle." 
 Both before and after luncheon and dinner G. read aloud 
 the " Reminiscences of the Irish R.M." ... So they go 
 up tonight to the scene of the successful mine explosion, 
 which is rather beastly I expect. . . . There is nothing 
 more to say . . . deep down beneath the chaff and mani- 
 fold secularity of their daily existence these fellows 
 mostly are simply self-committed and God knows best. 
 
 Towards the end of our stay in these huts, Neville 
 appeared again and said he'd run across Charles Fisher, 1 
 
 1 Student and tutor at Christ Church.
 
 DIARY FROM THE FRONT 61 
 
 and that he wanted Geoffrey Col man, Neville and me to 
 dine with him that night. Charles managed to send a 
 motor to fetch us and come in it himself. It was delicious 
 to get into a motor again, and more delightful to see 
 Charles. He was in excellent and most characteristic 
 form though sick and weary of it all. He has been out 
 here from the start, working hard with his ambulance, 
 and I gathered from Neville doing awfully well. . . . 
 We had an excellent and pleasant dinner and much 
 reminiscent conversation. 
 
 June 22. 
 
 ... I was woken in the trenches at about 7 by heavy 
 shelling right on us. I listened to it for a bit from my 
 dug-out: big, high explosive shells fired from our flank 
 right on the trench a bit further up from where I was. 
 One pitched some twenty yards away I thought in my 
 platoon, and I thought I'd better go and see after them. 
 I went along the trench and found we'd been very unlucky. 
 A shell had pitched clean in one of my bays, killed 
 one man a very jolly little man instantly blown the 
 poor chap to bits and wounded four others, two badly 
 and two slightly. These included one of my sergeants 
 quite young a corporal and two riflemen. It also buried 
 two other men, who were naturally shaken. I was much 
 pleased with the steadiness of the men no panic or 
 crowding or anything. The difficulty was that we couldn't 
 get the two badly hit men out of the trench till dark, as 
 the trenches at present are too narrow for a stretcher. 
 The two slightly wounded men could walk, and went 
 back at once to the dressing station. The two others lay 
 in the trench all day in great heat and tormented by 
 flies, and I'm afraid they had a very bad time. My 
 sergeant had a bad experience: we could only move him 
 a very little way, and when the shelling began again 
 as it did soon he was twice buried by the debris thrown 
 up by shells. He stuck it wonderfully on the whole. The 
 other fellow a great big young rifleman, as strong as a
 
 62 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 lion was very badly hit. . . . He lay in shocking pain 
 all day, but managed to smile back at me whenever I 
 passed, and was most grateful for any little relief we 
 could give him. I've had a good account of him. We 
 got them both out under cover of dark and back to the 
 Dressing Station, and then they're put into motor ambu- 
 lances and so back. . . . 
 
 This was the first time I've been under heavy shell fire. 
 It 's no good pretending one doesn't hate it. It 's beastly. 
 One can tell from the sound just which shell is coming 
 on your trench, and they come swishing through the air 
 with a sudden sprint at the end that one learns to know 
 and dread. It 's very hard to take it steadily. One feels 
 like a rat in a hole, with nowhere to go and nothing to 
 do and above all no way of retaliating. It 's pathetic to 
 see how the men feel this. They'd all feel it easier if they 
 could hit back. It's the feeling of helplessness that tries 
 them. One spends one's time going up and down the 
 line trying to keep them steady and cheerful. They are 
 wonderfully good on the whole, and so tender with any 
 pal that 's hit ... 
 
 After a bit we decided that the German guns had got 
 the range of our trench so exactly, and that we should 
 lose so many men, that we'd better evacuate the part 
 where the shells most often fell. Most luckily there was 
 another half-dug trench about fifty yards behind. Into 
 this we retired, half my platoon and half another. The 
 new trench was very shallow and half-made in parts, but 
 directly it was dark we got them on working like blazes, 
 and when we finally left it it was a jolly good trench. I 
 don't think the Germans ever discovered it. Anyhow it 
 was never shelled, and the trench we had evacuated was 
 shelled regularly every day which was most satisfying. 
 We took great precautions. No fires were ever allowed 
 in the new trench, and no work by day, and we lit fires 
 in the old trench and tried in other ways to make it 
 give the appearance of being still occupied. . . . The 
 Battalion lost pretty heavily as a whole, and the losses
 
 DIARY FROM THE FRONT 63 
 
 of the entire Brigade were undeniably heavy for just 
 holding the line. It 's certainly a hot corner. However, 
 we got a lot of fun out of it all, and lots of laughter at 
 our joint meals. We worked very hard at night making 
 the trenches good, when we could get out of them in 
 the dark, and slept quite a lot by day. . . . The whole 
 country has got very luxuriant and green now, which 
 makes the scars of the trenches less conspicuous, and 
 also makes war seem still more of a pollution. The 
 guns were very persistent, both theirs and ours, all the 
 time. The number of German shells that don't explode 
 is refreshing. One thing that is a great relief after one 
 has been heavily shelled, is if our guns begin to get to 
 work with effect. Just after we'd been pounded a bit, our 
 guns let drive with a heavyish bombardment for about a 
 quarter of an hour, and it was rer.lly delicious to see the 
 sandbags of the German trench fly and see the huge 
 explosions of the big lyddite shells. I don't know whether 
 it's bloodthirsty, but there's no mistaking the satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 . . . We had an interesting lecture, and I was interested 
 at seeing Allenby, the Corps General, as well as Vic. 
 Cooper, who commands the Division. I also had some 
 talk with Rupert Fellowes, who was at Oxford with 
 me. . . . 
 
 There 's not much more to tell. I was pleased at the 
 way my men worked. My trench was good and safe and 
 clean when I left it. We had some jolly times. Bones is 
 in excellent and improving form and runs the Company 
 admirably. His dug-out was a pleasant centre for meals 
 and for hot cocoa in the middle of the night. . . . 
 
 July Zth. 
 
 We were finally relieved about 1 1 p.m. last Thursday 
 and got out. ... It was perfect to get boots off and get 
 clean and to change one's filthy clothes and to see my 
 dear valise again. We all had mails and parcels, and 
 everybody was bursting with joy at being out of the
 
 64 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 trenches. . . . By a great mercy, though the Battalion 
 has lost quite a lot of men, no officer has been touched, 
 so we're the same jolly party once more, and we make 
 almost as much noise at meals as at Farnham in the 
 holidays. Last night I was made to read one of the old 
 " Irish R.M." stories aloud, and it was a roaring success 
 and is to be repeated. We hope to be out for at least 
 a week, perhaps more. And yesterday I got another 
 magnificent hot bath. I've seen Neville again, though 
 we're not next door now, as his Brigade 's in the trenches, 
 but he managed to get over to luncheon the day we came 
 out. 
 
 I've onlyone thing more to say. You people in England 
 should realize that when it is said that lack of shells loses 
 lives, what is meant is not so much that we haven't enough 
 shells when we attack, but that until we've got enough 
 shells we've got to go on holding the lines at the cost my 
 Brigade has had to pay this week, without advancing at 
 all or gaining anything at all. And that is what will break 
 any Infantry's heart, because the strain seems long and 
 demoralizing and profitless. So we must have shells. 
 When we've got enough, we're all quite certain we can 
 get through. . . . 
 
 This was the last Diary we received. Gilbert was 
 writing the last up on the evening of the 2gih of July 
 the day before he was killed ; this he put in his haversack, 
 and it was rifled by the Germans, so it is believed, during 
 the week he lay out in the field before he was buried. 
 The haversack was found on the ground close by, cut off, 
 and empty his field-glasses, revolver, and compass were 
 also taken. 
 
 I add a few extracts from Gilbert's letters in the last 
 weeks.
 
 LAST LETTERS 65 
 
 To Hermione Lyttelton 
 
 June '15. 
 
 At times one's thoughts fly back to all the precious 
 things in England, a thousand times more precious now. 
 I think of Farnham, Winchester, Oxford in summer. 
 What Winchester meads are like on a \ holiday in June 
 or Magdalen cloisters on a May evening. And one 
 thinks of all the family and the happy times we've had 
 the love that binds us all, and Mother and all she is to 
 me, and I don't feel ashamed of wondering fairly often 
 if I shall see them again, and if so when. 
 
 To his Mother 
 
 June \Qth. 
 
 ... I want you so much to feel as I do (I know you do) 
 how this war and the trouble of my being out here, and 
 away from you has drawn us together perhaps as never 
 before. So that I feel our love the great fact of my life 
 to cling to and I can almost feel you beside me loving 
 me. I want you to know just what is in my mind. . . . 
 The chief feeling for me now is the feeling of nearness. 
 Somehow, I don't feel as if physical distance meant 
 anything. Your love is near me through all these 
 troubles and dangers. Yours is so much the harder task. 
 My duty here is plain and simple, and there's so much 
 to do it's hard to stop and think you have the uncer- 
 tainty and waiting. ... I do long to live as I write, but 
 I'm in God's Hands, and I trust in His mercy. 
 
 To the same 
 
 July 22ttd, 1915. 
 
 ... I feel so near you really. It 's easier for me than 
 for you. Death is not so formidable or awful in a way 
 here. Soldiers put it in its right place somehow. I know 
 it's not the end only an incident and that the love 
 that unites us lives through and will triumph over all. 
 But I do long for home sometimes. 
 
 E
 
 66 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 Gilbert's last letter to Neville, giving a short account 
 of the holding of the crater 
 
 July -ilth, 1915. 
 
 Dear Bumps, ' We've had the hell of a time, but the 
 Company has been taken out of the fire trenches into a 
 quiet support point, and we go out of the trenches 
 altogether to-morrow. I'm all right, but it's certainly the 
 deuce of a place. French's communique about Hooge 
 was really concerned only with my platoon and my 
 trench! which is amusing. 2 But it's all ridiculously 
 exaggerated and overstated, and makes me think very 
 poorly of communique's. And it's just an ordinary lie 
 that the trench mortar is silenced. The guns never hit 
 it, and it 's been firing this morning. It's a sort of aerial- 
 torpedo thing, bigger I believe than the ordinary mortar. 
 It fires an enormous long shell, which goes a very great 
 height and spins like a Rugger ball, and then falls with 
 an ear-splitting and most demoralizing noise. It's very 
 trying, and we've had a lot of nervous breakdowns. 
 Ronnie Hardy was killed by it. 3 One fell on my trench. 
 Thomas Gent was also killed on a bombing party. 
 Shoveller and Merriam wounded. Also my dear 
 Sergeant Dawson killed. But I'm all right. Laus Deo. 
 Also a part of my trench was blown up by a mine but 
 we were lucky there. I'm writing about it in my diary, 
 which you will see. Come and see me when you can. 
 I'll tell you my precise movements. 
 
 1 Neville and Gilbert called each other " Bumps." 
 
 * Captain Drummond writes, 28 July: "We are very much 
 
 pleased, at least my company is, and especially one platoon 
 
 Talbot's, who did it. We have got a mention in the communique. 
 
 The ' Daily Telegraph' even gives it a big heading (26 July 1915), 
 
 ' Bombs and Mines ' near the crater." 
 
 3 Of Captain Hardy he writes in another letter: " Ronnie Hardy 
 
 was a really perfect fellow. One of his platoon wrote home about 
 
 him and said ' Absolutely my ideal of an officer and a gentleman. 
 
 God loved him too well to leave him long with us.' "
 
 CANON SCOTT HOLLAND'S MEMOIR 67 
 
 I have thought it best to give the account of what 
 followed by an extract from Mr. John Buchan's " History 
 of the War," vol. ix, p. 99, followed by the accounts by 
 two eyewitnesses, Sergeant Chumley and Rifleman Nash, 
 Gilbert's servant. These are all printed in the Appendix. 
 
 Of the part played in this tragic story by Gilbert and 
 his own gallant comrades and platoon, and of the last 
 moments I shall say no more, leaving it to be said (as I 
 think ideally) by his and our life-long friend and helper 
 Canon Scott Holland. The little Memoir reprinted by his 
 leave from the " Commonwealth " of September 1915 will 
 carry the reader again over much of the ground which I 
 have tried to cover, and will close the story in the way I 
 should most wish it to be closed. 
 
 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 BY CANON SCOTT HOLLAND' 
 
 We had not thought of tragedy for Gilbert. Somehow 
 that had never entered into the dream that we dreamed 
 of him. There was a lightness, a freshness, a buoyancy 
 about him that told always of life to come. He was so 
 young: and so ready for the frolic of being alive: and so 
 alert and brimming and radiant. He took things gaily 
 as they came along: and was ready for them all. He 
 enjoyed the daily business of living with most hearty 
 relish: and was always in the thick of it: and revelled 
 in its activities and humour: and could talk it all over 
 
 1 Of Canon Holland, Gilbert wrote to a friend in 1912: "Didn't 
 you like him? He's a wonderful man. An immense intellect, com- 
 bined with extraordinary power and force as a preacher. And 
 human and full of fun."
 
 68 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 for ever and ever : and was keen for any debate that was 
 going: and rollicked in the free play of wits: and loved 
 argument and chaff, and social intercourse of every shade 
 and shape: and could never tire of the good fellowship 
 of old and young alike. He was alive at every pore. 
 
 And then there was so much high promise. He had 
 the special gifts that carry men to the front places. He 
 was wonderfully ready and effective in all forms of 
 expression, whether by speech or writing. He always 
 told at once. While a boy at Winchester he wrote a 
 letter to an evening London paper, which wore an air 
 of such weight and dignity that it drew into the field the 
 leading Liberal organizer, in the belief that he was deal- 
 ing with somebody of quite special importance, to the 
 immense amusement of Gilbert's friends. On leaving 
 school he wrote an article for one of the Monthlies on 
 Public School Life and Morality, which was not only 
 extremely felicitious in style, but was singularly wise, 
 and strong, and complete. He seemed so young in 
 himself; but he wrote with a curious profundity on a 
 matter of this kind. And the same note of paternal 
 experience would often amuse the Union, as, in his 
 boyish lightness of demeanour, he spoke as a father to 
 his boys, out of the authority of one who had seen and 
 known a larger world than they. The truth was that he 
 loved getting to principles, and had great grips on moral 
 standards, and a very keen psychological insight. He 
 analysed motives admirably, and had a remarkably good 
 judgement on practical perplexities. I once called him in 
 to advise a father on a very perilous and complicated bit 
 of school ethics, and I was immensely impressed with 
 his combination of courage and wisdom. He was 
 perfectly clear and strong in his judgement: yet gave 
 consideration all round: and took his part with an 
 authority and a force that could not be bettered. He 
 had shown splendid moral courage at school, and had 
 dedicated himself for several years, first by careful 
 planning and then by the exercise of authority, as head
 
 CANON SCOTT HOLLAND'S MEMOIR 69 
 
 of his house and prefect, to purging school life of its 
 pollutions, and to relieving the smaller boys from fear of 
 wrong. He was as clear and firm as a rock on all such 
 matters: and had been singularly brave in giving his 
 principles public and practical force. Whenever I was 
 tempted to criticize his airy and careless looseness of 
 manner, I used to recall this noble record of his in an 
 arena so daunting and difficult as the big life of a great 
 public school. 
 
 His capacity in writing was shown at its best, at the 
 close of his Oxford career, by the sketch which he was 
 invited to write for the " Times " of the Prince of Wales's 
 career in the University. It was just right. It was very 
 real and true: it had no humbug: it was perfectly happy 
 in touch and tone. 
 
 But his fame, of course, had been won rather in 
 speaking than writing. And, no doubt, here lay his 
 special excellence. It brought him to the front in 
 whatever company he found himself. He was really 
 irrepressible. Whatever society or club he joined, he 
 became at once its secretary or its chairman. He in- 
 evitably spoke for it. He could do it so easily, so quickly, 
 with such felicity, with so much effect. He had the 
 style, the equipment, the manner, to perfection. He 
 already wore all the air of a leader of his party, and was 
 in delightful command of himself and the situation. He 
 was at his happiest in pure debate. He seized on the 
 weaknesses of his adversary with really marvellous 
 acuteness. He had his own points admirably ranged 
 and handled. They were valid and clear, and precise. 
 And he backed them with materials which he seemed 
 always to have ready to hand. At his best, in all this 
 debating business, he was really first rate. He made 
 everything that he said tell for its full value. 
 
 He showed this power not only in his favourite field, 
 the Union, but when, even in his Freshman's year, he 
 ventured to counter Mr. Belloc, after some public lecture 
 on Rome, I think : or, again, when he challenged the dry
 
 70 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 and clever Mr. M c Cabe, who had delivered an attack on 
 Christianity which the Christian defenders were showing 
 themselves but poorly able to repel. 
 
 As a debater he would certainly have gone far in after 
 life. And he had high political ambitions. He saw 
 visions of a better social order. He hoped for great 
 things. His ideal chief was Mr. Arthur Balfour, at whose 
 feet he sat. He delighted in what may be called the 
 Cecilian temper its alert and free intellectuality, its 
 dialectical acuteness, its logical penetration, and invin- 
 cible courage. But he also cared deeply for the large 
 human causes that drew all hearts together to work for 
 the better day. And this is what gave for him such a 
 large attraction to Mr. Lloyd George. Ever since the 
 visit of the famous Welshman to Oxford for his address 
 to the Union, while Gilbert was President, a most 
 singular friendship was struck up between them. The 
 older man would pour out his soul to the young fellow, 
 telling him of his hopes of a Social Policy in which all 
 parties might unite, so that, in twenty years, they might 
 change the face of England in town and country. 
 
 Gilbert found himself irresistibly fascinated by this 
 personal charm. For a time he fell back on Mr. Hyde 
 and Dr. Jekyll as a reconciling interpretation of the man 
 whom he knew and the Limehouse orator: but, after a 
 time, even this explanation went under. Only two days 
 before his death he wrote to Mr. Lloyd George a 
 delightful and intimate letter, telling him of the deep 
 gratitude to him for his work on Munitions that was 
 going up from the hearts of soldiers in the trenches who 
 once had hardly been able to bear the sound of his 
 name: and recalling again the visions of national welfare 
 which he had opened out for him to follow. Mr. Lloyd 
 George had only just read the letter, when he caught 
 sight of Gilbert's name in the Roll of Honour. 
 
 For it was to be a deeper note, after all, that was to be 
 struck. Our hopes, our anticipations, our dreams had 
 been all of life a life that held in it such promise, such
 
 CANON SCOTT HOLLAND'S MEMOIR 71 
 
 opportunities. Right across this came suddenly at a 
 stroke the higher call, the gallant response, the swift 
 silence of death, on the field of honour, in the hour of 
 glory. He had given himself to the new obligation with 
 dramatic decisiveness. For he had just started with a 
 friend, Geoffrey Colman, for his great world tour, every 
 detail of which had been carefully arranged for months 
 before. The war broke out while they were crossing the 
 Atlantic. They knew it first by the cheering and the 
 bands with which the arrival of their ship was met at 
 Quebec. They spent but six hours on land, and took the 
 next steamer straight away home. Both joined the 
 Rifle Brigade, with which Gilbert was associated by his 
 Uncle General Neville Lyttelton, and by his brother 
 Neville, Fellow of Balliol. 
 
 He set himself to the unusual training and discipline, 
 and proved to be an excellent officer. His innate gift of 
 leadership showed itself at once. He especially won the 
 confidence of his men by his open talk to them about all 
 that he wanted them to do and know. On being asked, 
 in his military examination, what would be his first act 
 when placing his platoon in a post of danger, he said: 
 " I should call them all up and tell them what they were 
 expected to do." This was exactly right, and singularly 
 characteristic of the man. He gained greatly himself 
 under the stress; he shed much of his careless disarray 
 and casualness. He learned to concentrate. He lived 
 no longer with " loose sleeves." He deepened in charac- 
 ter. He thought more of others. He steadily got his 
 own soul ready for the risks that he quite surely saw 
 before him. 
 
 After the endless months, as they seem, of preparation, 
 the last act came swiftly on. His Battalion was among 
 the first of the New Army to be sent up to the front 
 firing line. His brother Neville, who had been acting 
 chaplain to his old regiment, saw him before and after 
 his first bout in the trenches, and was struck again with 
 the quick way in which Gilbert occupied the ground
 
 72 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 among his mates. He always took the lead ; it all buzzed 
 round him ; it was " Gilbert " here and " Gilbert " there, 
 and " Gilbert " everywhere. 
 
 After his first bout was over, he and his lot were 
 ordered to hold one of those awful craters which one of our 
 mines had carved out in front of Hooge. They held it, 
 and had just come out of it, when the murderous attack 
 with liquid fire recaptured it. They were turned back at 
 once, after two hours' sleep, half-way home, to re-march 
 the eight miles already covered, and to be ready for the 
 counter-attack on the captured trench. With nothing 
 but that cup of tea, after the marching, they had to work 
 their way by a communication trench through a wood 
 that was being heavily shelled, and then rush an open 
 one hundred and fifty yards. Gilbert's platoon had to 
 lead the attack. He deployed his men on the edge of 
 the wood, and made them lie down in a low ditch, until 
 the artillery preparation was over. At the sound of five 
 whistles, they were to make the rush. The whistles blew. 
 Gilbert rose at once and leaped forward, crying: " Come 
 along, lads, now 's your time! " But the platoon had lost 
 heavily in the wood, and, what with this and the tumult, 
 only sixteen men could be found to follow him He ran 
 forward pointing the way with his arm, bidding his 
 servant to keep close up with him. He was hit by a 
 bullet in the neck. He fell: gave a smile to his servant, 
 Nash, who tried to stem the gush of arterial blood ; and 
 rolled forward on his face. He was dead. Other bullets 
 struck him, and one went through his heart. Nash was 
 twice wounded himself, and was forced to leave him 
 lying there. 
 
 When the officer of the next platoon, who had been 
 told to follow and support Gilbert, emerged from the 
 wood he could see no platoon to support. There was 
 not a man left who was not hit. The attack had failed. 
 There was never any hope of its succeeding, for the 
 machine guns of the Germans were still in full play, with 
 their fire unimpaired. The body had to lie there where
 
 CANON SCOTT HOLLAND'S MEMOIR 73 
 
 it had fallen. Only, his brother could not endure to let 
 it lie unhonoured or unblessed. After a day and a half 
 of anxious searching for exact details, he got to the 
 nearest trench by the " murdered " wood, which the 
 shells had now smashed to pieces. There he found some 
 shaken Somersets, who begged him to go no further. 
 But he heard a voice within him bidding him risk it, and 
 the call of the blood drove him on. Creeping out of the 
 far end of the trench, as dusk fell, he crawled through 
 the grass on hands and knees, in spite of shells and 
 snipers, dropping flat on the ground as the flares shot up 
 from the German trenches. And, at last, thirty yards 
 away in the open, he felt that he was touching young 
 Woodroffe's body, another subaltern, and knew that he 
 was close on what he sought. Two yards further, he 
 found it. He could stroke with his hand the fair young 
 head that he knew so well; he could feel for pocket- 
 book and prayer-book, and the badge and the wrist 
 watch. He could breathe a prayer of benediction, com- 
 mending the poor dead thing that had meant so much, 
 to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost: and then crawl back 
 on his perilous way in the night, having done all that 
 man could do for the brother whom he had loved so 
 fondly: and enabled, now, to tell those at home that 
 Gilbert was dead indeed, but that he had died the death 
 that a soldier would love to die, leaving his body the 
 nearest of all who fell, to the trench that he had been 
 told to take. He crowned his life by this act of heroic 
 decision. He leaped forward himself and made his 
 sacrifice: and died, as he called others to follow where 
 he led. He must have known perfectly well what was 
 before him. He had said, before, that the officer who had 
 to lead the first platoon on such a venture, had only one 
 possible end to expect. In his own case the hope was for- 
 lorn : and he knew it. But he never flinched. He called, 
 "Come along, lads," and he died with a smile on his lips. 
 A week later, on the following Sunday, his brother 
 Neville again went out with three brave Tykes from a
 
 74 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 Yorkshire regiment, who leaped over the parapet, as 
 soon as he asked their help, with a stretcher on which, 
 under peril not so urgent as before, they bore back the 
 poor blurred remains, to be laid to rest in a quiet ceme- 
 tery, under a wooden cross, which a kindly Engineer cut 
 out for Neville, and wrote on it, of his own will, a word 
 of Peace. 
 
 There the body lies. But he has gone into another 
 life than we had chosen. And we cannot murmur. In 
 the letters that pour in from his most intimate friends, 
 even those who loved him in his home are startled at the 
 witness borne, not merely to the superficial gifts of which 
 they were so proud, but to the depth and strength of 
 character with which he impressed some of the very best 
 men of his time. They all speak of the elevation of tone 
 which he forced upon his company: and how he had 
 become dearer each year to them by this deep influence 
 on their inner lives. He had lived for his last year in 
 lodgings, in most happy companionship with as good a 
 set of men as could be found in Oxford, chiefly from 
 Balliol. It was more especially with them that he grew 
 to his ripe manhood. He was steadily coming through 
 his faults. And this was no light business. For nature, 
 in endowing him richly, had also made for him a 
 character difficult to handle and to discipline. He could 
 not be what he was, without being naturally self- 
 conscious and self-interested. By necessity he came to 
 the front in almost any company in which he found him- 
 self. He could not help being incessantly before the 
 footlights. This was inevitable. But it had its dangers. 
 And then, at Oxford, his many-sided activities had pro- 
 hibited discipline and concentration: and he had never 
 girded up his loins, or put himself to real proof under 
 the austere sifting of the Schools. 
 
 But all this was behind him now. The last year had 
 begun the work. The training for the Army bettered it. 
 The seriousness of the issues before him, to which he 
 had given himself, gave the finer touch. He was ready.
 
 CANON SCOTT HOLLAND'S MEMOIR 75 
 
 And, as we think of the perilous moral turmoil of that 
 public political career to which we, in our blindness, were 
 committing him its dusty and doubtful by-roads, its 
 egotisms, its personalities, its heat of controversy, we can 
 believe that, by the swift gallantry of self-surrender, by 
 the " splendid action on the edge of life," by laying down 
 his life with a call and a smile, he has, in one breathless 
 and unsullied moment, over-topped our best desires for 
 him, and, at a stroke, by the Grace of Christ, has 
 " triumphed over Death, and thee O Time ! " 
 
 " Fear not ! Ye are of more value than many sparrows." 
 So he had written in the Book of Prayer given him by 
 his mother, which he carried with him. And, again, 
 " Yea ! though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
 of death, I will fear no evil." He understood. He was 
 forearmed. Let his soul rest in Peace ! 
 
 H. S. H.
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 I. The Fighting at Hooge in the last days of July 1915. 
 
 From Buchan's " History of the War," vol. ix, p. 99. 
 And the narrative by Sergeant Chumley and Rifle- 
 man Nash of what happened on 30 July. 
 
 II. Extracts which give some estimates of Gilbert by 
 
 different friends. 
 
 III. A few characteristic contributions of his own. 
 
 77
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 I. THE FIGHTING AT HOOGE IN THE LAST DAYS 
 OF JULY 1915 
 
 THE account of the movement of which the charge 
 of Gilbert's platoon formed part is perhaps best 
 given from independent sources. The events of July 30 
 are described in a few extracts from Mr. John Buchan's 
 " History of the War," vol. ix, p. 99, chap. Ixvii: 
 
 The fighting at Hooge at the end of July and the 
 beginning of August had no strategic significance. It 
 was only an incident in the eternal struggle of small-losses 
 and small gains to which the policy of holding the Ypres 
 salient condemned us. But it is worthy of special notice, 
 both because of the desperate nature of the conflict and 
 because it was the first appearance in battle of one of the 
 new divisions. ... 
 
 . . . The British dispositions in July, owing to the 
 coming of the first detachments of the New Army, 
 had undergone drastic changes. Here it is sufficient to 
 note that on the 29th day of July the salient was held by 
 the new Sixth Corps, under Major-General Keir. . . . 
 South of the Roulers Railway, in front of the Bellewaarde 
 Lake and Hooge, and extending down to Sanctuary 
 Wood, was the I4th Division of the New Army, under 
 Major-General Couper. (It comprised the 4ist, 42nd and 
 43rd Brigades, and was a light Division composed of 
 light infantry.) . . . Our trenches east of the Crater were 
 occupied by two companies of the 8th Rifle Brigade from 
 the 41 st Brigade, troops who had just come up and had 
 not been in these trenches before. 
 
 79
 
 8o GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 About 3 a.m. on the morning of Friday, 3oth July, the 
 Germans delivered a violent attack upon the trenches 
 east of the Crater. . . . The main attack that morning 
 was not made by artillery. The enemy had sapped up 
 very close to our line, and at three o'clock launched a 
 torrent of liquid fire. The liquid was pumped from 
 machines in the saps, and ignited itself in its passage. 
 Now we knew the meaning of the accusation which had 
 preceded the Crown Prince's movement in the Argonne. 
 This liquid fire had been prepared since the beginning of 
 the war, for we captured directions for its use in October; 
 but the precise situation when it could be profitably used 
 had not revealed itself until now. Combined with the fire 
 was an assault by " minenwerfers," those trench mortars 
 fired from close range which our troops hated beyond 
 every other weapon. The Germans, too, had a great 
 number of bombers, who stormed our trenches with their 
 grenades. 
 
 The combination of artillery bombardment, liquid fire, 
 trench mortars, and bombs was irresistible. The two 
 companies of the 8th Rifle Brigade were nearly blotted 
 out. The Germans carried our first line, and won the 
 Crater. Our troops fell back to the second line, which 
 ran north-west from the corner of Zouave Wood. There- 
 upon the enemy began to plaster with shell the region 
 behind our front, and turned the Zouave Wood into a 
 death-trap. . . . 
 
 . . . The General commanding the Sixth Corps ordered 
 a counter-attack for the afternoon of that day. It was 
 entrusted to the 7th Rifle Brigade, which was brought 
 up for the purpose from Vlamertinghe, seven miles off, 
 and to what remained of the 8th Rifle Brigade. For 
 three-quarters of an hour before it our artillery bombarded 
 the German position, but without much effect. Far more 
 deadly were the German shells, which swept Zouave and 
 Sanctuary Woods and the country between and behind 
 them. 
 
 The counter-attack began at 2.45 p.m.,and was doomed
 
 THE FIGHTING AT HOOGE 81 
 
 to failure from the start. The battalions were mown down 
 in Zouave Wood, and the few that emerged into the open 
 fell under the blast of machine guns, They were under 
 fire from the German fortins and from the German 
 position on the Hooge ridge, and they had to face as 
 well a devastating artillery storm. The Rifle Brigade 
 never wavered, and no exploit in its long and splendid 
 regimental history surpassed in desperate valour the 
 advance of its new battajions towards certain destruction. 
 Only a remnant remained in the trenches outside Zouave 
 Wood. The fields and coppices were strewn with dead, 
 platoons and companies disappeared, and few were the 
 officers who returned. Among those who fell were two 
 of the most brilliant of younger Oxford men, Lieutenant 
 Gilbert Talbot of the 7th Battalion, and Second-Lieu- 
 tenant the Hon. G. W. Grenfell of the 8th. 
 
 . . . The great counter-attack was fixed for Monday, 
 9th August. ... It was to the i6th and iSth Brigades 
 that it was entrusted. The attack was made just before 
 dawn. . . . The artillery work which preceded it was 
 admirably managed. . . . Our infantry swept right up 
 to the fringe of our own shell fire. Then the gunners 
 lengthened their range,and our men were into the German 
 trenches. . . . The attack swept beyond the Crater, and 
 carried the ruins of the stables. ... It had succeeded. 
 Our losses were extraordinarily few. The two battalions 
 who counter-attacked on the 3<Dth July had had 2,000 
 casualties, including sixty officers. The difference in losses 
 was the difference between a well considered and ade- 
 quately-prepared movement and a hasty improvisation. 
 
 These clear accounts of the last few days' events are 
 given by Sergeant Chumley, and Rifleman Nash: 
 
 From Sergeant Chumley, C Coy, 'jth Batt. Rifle Brigade 
 (now a Commissioned Officer) 
 
 24 August, 1915. 
 
 ... It would be about July 2Oth or 2ist rumour had 
 it we were going into the trenches for twenty-one days. 
 
 F
 
 82 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 We started off in the rain, but luckily we were conveyed 
 to within four miles of the firing line by motor busses. 
 On arrival at the trenches, we took up a position well to 
 the right of the crater, but later found we were separated 
 from the rest of our Company. During the night, D 
 Company had manned the front of the crater, as well as 
 the trench on the left, but owing to their losses from 
 trench mortars it was decided they should be moved and 
 so leave the crater unoccupied. At 8.30 the next morning, 
 we received orders to occupy the left of the crater, 
 previously held by D Coy, and by this means link up 
 with the remainder of C Coy. During the next few days 
 we were bombarded by trench mortars and had many 
 casualties. One evening the Germans made an attack on 
 our Platoon with bombs ; we opened rapid fire and soon 
 repulsed them. At the end of about four days it was 
 decided we ought to be relieved things were so hot. I 
 should have mentioned that the Germans blew up the 
 extreme left of our trench, containing our bomb store and 
 all our rations. We were next sent down to the reserve, 
 a ruined farm house, well fortified, about half a mile 
 behind the firing line. We remained there in comfort for 
 the next few days. It was Thursday, July the 29th, we 
 were relieved by the 8th R.B. We started off at 1 1 at 
 night for our Rest Camp, which was reached at 3 a.m. 
 
 Here the narrative is continued from the account which 
 Nash gave to Neville, who closely questioned him on all 
 the points. 
 
 NASH'S ACCOUNT 
 
 On July 29th when the party had marched half way 
 back to Vlamertinghe, about 8 miles, they all lay down 
 at once by the roadside about 3.30 a.m. About 2 hours 
 later Nash was roused, and was told the Battn. was to 
 return to make a counter attack on the crater, which had 
 been vacated by the 8th Battn., owing to their being
 
 NASH'S ACCOUNT 83 
 
 attacked by unexpected use of liquid fire. He called 
 
 Gilbert, and Captn. Drummond coming along at the same 
 
 time he explained matters, and Gilbert was up at once, 
 
 and after the first sleepy moment was in very good spirits 
 
 as they walked off after only a cup of tea scarcely any 
 
 food. Some had bits of chocolate and biscuit with them. 
 
 The men knew little of what was up, but the officers 
 
 knew, and talked anxiously among themselves, so that 
 
 after a time the men too began to perceive that it was 
 
 likely to be a hot dangerous affair. Once on the road 
 
 Gilbert was consulted by the Colonel. They were to be 
 
 at the W. end of the Zouave wood by 2 p.m. (on Friday 
 
 3Oth). The last hour or so, he and Nash walked on alone 
 
 ahead of the rest shelling became more violent as they 
 
 got nearer to the wood. Gilbert said to Nash " We're 
 
 going up all together to a warm shop. I don't suppose 
 
 many of us will come back." He was anxious lest the 
 
 Platoon should not be in time, but they were on the tick, 
 
 and all met as arranged some of the rest of the Brigade 
 
 in the middle, not the edge, of the Zouave Wood, and 
 
 after conferring with and receiving orders from the 
 
 Colonel, Gilbert went forward a little with Nash, to report 
 
 about the wood. While still in the middle of the wood, 
 
 Gilbert said " I don't think the machine guns will be 
 
 knocked out by this bombardment," clearly realizing what 
 
 the probable issue was. He then was told to line up his 
 
 men behind a low trench. The condition of the wood 
 
 was unspeakable trees with no leaves left had fallen 
 
 from shells like spillikins one over the other, and there 
 
 were corpses, and wounded men, and huge pits and 
 
 horrors and desolation beyond description. They all 
 
 waited from 2 to 2.40 while our side bombarded to 
 
 which the Germans answered furiously and many were 
 
 killed and wounded in the wood. At first Gilbert went 
 
 up and down, cheering the men but at last no words 
 
 could be heard, so great was the noise, and he went and 
 
 sat a little apart, on the right, with his head a little bent 
 
 (Neville said he was sure he was praying hard, and Nash
 
 84 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 thought so too. " He was heard in that he feared "). He 
 looked constantly at his watch. At 2.45 he blew the 
 whistle which was the signal to charge and at once the 
 men only 16 were now available leapt out, and rushed 
 forward, Gilbert, followed closely by Nash (who he had 
 told to keep near him), headed them a few yards on, with 
 the words " Come on my lads this is our day." Soon he 
 came to the old British barbed wire fencing, which he 
 was beginning to cut, when he was hit in the neck, and 
 fell over the wire fencing. Nash, badly hit in the left 
 arm, at the same moment as his master, dashed forward, 
 wrenched out his bandages, and turned Gilbert gently on 
 his back, and tried to bind up the fatal wound in his 
 neck. His blue eyes opened wide and he saw Nash and 
 gave him a bright smile, then turned a little over, and 
 died. While Nash's right hand was on Gilbert's breast 
 pocket to lay him down a bullet pierced the third finger 
 (it was afterwards amputated) and went right through 
 Gilbert's cigarette case and, he supposed, through his 
 heart. He crawled back, how he hardly remembers, to 
 report what had happened, offering on arriving to go with 
 stretcher bearers to show where Gilbert lay. But though 
 more than one set offered to go, and two got within 10 ft. 
 of the body, the shelling was too fierce, and after these 
 were hit and wounded, the Colonel forbade any more 
 going down. Some months after this Nash received the 
 D.C.M. for the devoted care and courage he had shown. 
 
 Nash was most sympathetic for E.W. and myself, and 
 was awfully sorry and tears were in his eyes at the bare 
 idea of rejoining the platoon without its brilliant subal- 
 tern, and one half of his old pals gone.
 
 LETTERS OF FRIENDS 85 
 
 II. EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS OF GILBERT'S FRIENDS 
 
 From John Murray, Student of Christ Church, 
 Gilbert's Greats Tutor 
 
 ... IT is difficult to think or write of Gilbert as dead. 
 The volume and warmth of the life that was in him were 
 patent to any beholder and were things for his friends to 
 value and trust to, and to build hopes on. The fullness 
 of effort and interest in him never failed. He had a 
 valiant, infectious urgency, a very formidable emphasis 
 on the " here and now." There was nothing of the faint 
 or distant or lingering about him, none of the things that 
 make the remoteness and the silence of the dead easier 
 to bear and grasp. 
 
 Gilbert was such a fact. There he was present abund- 
 antly and indubitably real and significant above most, 
 requiring to be reckoned with. Whatever he was about, 
 he intended seriously, and his acts were full of energy. 
 He was restless and steadfast, and both in a high degree: 
 most himself and happiest in putting forth power. 
 
 The stricken man has vanished, but not faded or failed. 
 His tragic end will not lend itself to pathos or sentiment, 
 which often soften the loss of friends. It shows death at 
 its harshest. . . . He is gone, but in a triumph of life and 
 youth, that blossomed and passed, untouched by harm 
 or wrong. The brave memory of him has no clouds. The 
 undiminished figure will live in many minds. His friends 
 will possess him, for not even death can rob them of what 
 they have known and felt the goodliness of and cared 
 for deeply. 
 
 Gilbert was growing, and he would have continued to 
 grow. The Army edified him and made him happy. I 
 could see that the last time, the very last, he came to 
 Oxford. He was bent on enlisting me. " It was a fine 
 life, soldiering," he said.
 
 86 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 There was so much character in him that the future 
 would have ripened a big mind in him too. He had the 
 eye for large and fundamental things, and he faced them 
 simply and directly. The essays he used to bring me 
 were alike in one point a desire to mark out the big 
 outlines and the limits. Care for the detail would have 
 come too, and the combination of these powers along 
 with his gift of speech would have given him a notable 
 place in his generation. And with his emphasis there 
 was an intellectual sensitiveness in him that I prized, just 
 as despite the restless force that was in him he had an 
 unusual capacity of appreciation and admiration for 
 others. . . . 
 
 From Victor Mallet 
 
 It is difficult to convey an adequate impression of 
 Gilbert as a friend and companion. A portrait in words, 
 as on canvas, requires a touch of real inspiration to 
 redeem it from being a flat record of outward impressions, 
 well proportioned and accurately described, yet missing 
 that flicker of a smile that would pass over the face, or 
 that accent of the voice which gave point to the story. . . . 
 
 Gilbert's humour was a delight to his friends. He was 
 at his best when telling a story, and he could always 
 convey the humour of the situation in a few well-chosen 
 words. I remember one occasion in particular, when on 
 a reading party in Switzerland : we were supposed to be 
 spending a profitable evening working; but Gilbert 
 stopped all work for the evening by retailing for our 
 benefit the stories from Herodotus which he had just 
 succeeded in translating. The stories in themselves were 
 not particularly funny, but Gilbert, putting them into 
 modern slang and pouring them forth with enormous 
 gusto, kept us roaring with laughter for two hours. . . . 
 
 I must speak mostly of Gilbert at the Chalet Reading 
 Party, as that was the time when I got to know him 
 more intimately than at any other time. He was at that
 
 LETTERS OF FRIENDS 87 
 
 time rather seriously alarmed about his prospects in 
 " Greats," and worked pretty hard. In the evenings we 
 used to stroll round the lawn singing songs ; Gilbert had 
 a repertory of those which had to be sung with almost 
 ritualistic regularity each evening. On one occasion 
 Evelyn Cardew was having supper at the neighbouring 
 chalet with Miss Asquith and her brother; Gilbert 
 organized a party to serenade them, and a selection was 
 rendered (in harmony) of " I Love a Lassie " and " I 
 know of Two Bright Eyes waiting for Me." The sickly 
 sentiment of this latter always made him howl with 
 laughter. . . . 
 
 What he really enjoyed was a discussion of any sort. 
 He always managed to dominate it, and yet everyone 
 felt glad that he did, because though he talked a lot he 
 never bored. He was particularly fond of modern novels : 
 Wells he found intensely interesting, and Chesterton he 
 loved. It was his power of making others listen to him 
 that made him a leader. He could convince without re- 
 sorting to quibbles or mere debating points, though as a 
 debater he excelled. 
 
 Many people at Oxford were inclined to base their 
 judgement of him on what they heard him say at the 
 Union. They felt that he was the supreme debater of 
 his time at Oxford, but did not realize the depth of 
 thought that lay behind his command of words. But 
 those who had the luck to hear him in small clubs or 
 among a circle of friends round the fire, realized the 
 sincerity of his feelings, and, even though they might 
 disagree with his views, could never accuse him of cant. 
 I remember one most interesting evening when he spoke 
 to a small club on " Modernism." He dealt mainly with 
 religion and literature on that occasion (Wells, of course, 
 was prominent in his argument) and his remarks struck 
 me as peculiarly well thought out and full of freshness. 
 He always gave one the impression of being vitally 
 interested in all that he discussed. . . . 
 
 There was in him much of the old conservative both
 
 88 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 in his outlook on politics and on society. His indignation 
 at the " Bunny-hug " and its kindred dances was quite 
 real, and after the " House " Ball I well remember him 
 describing how he prevented certain people from dancing 
 it ! His mind, for the same reason, disliked the Land 
 Reforms proposed by Mr. Lloyd George as revolutionary. 
 Yet behind all his conservatism was a genuine vein of 
 progressive feeling. He wanted reforms many of them 
 he clamoured for but he loathed the idea of complete 
 change. The world as he found it had many beautiful 
 and dignified institutions, which he wished to preserve. 
 His fear was that in the destruction of what was bad the 
 good also might perish. . . . 
 
 But after all it is impossible to sketch any of Gilbert's 
 characteristics. It is useless to attempt to give the im- 
 pression of that warm smile of welcome or of that 
 vigorous body and still more vigorous mind, which made 
 one think of Gilbert as eternally young and alive. 
 
 From A. P. Herbert 
 
 Royal Naval Camp, Blandford. 
 
 I like most to think of Gilbert at 8 Long Wall Street, 
 not in our happy days at Winchester nor in the great 
 moments and they were many of his Oxford time, but 
 in that last intimate year (of 1913-14) in the little old 
 house between New College and Magdalen Deer Park, 
 the year which ended with Schools and the War. One 
 needed to be near Gilbert to know him, and the five of 
 us who lived with him there, and learned and suffered 
 his weaknesses, knew the best of him. For he was at his 
 best as a true friend. 
 
 I see him thundering down in the morning clamouring 
 for the morning paper, and demolishing over his coffee 
 the latest Ministerial speech; out in the sunny garden 
 beneath the City Wall reading Plato and talking politics; 
 at the piano, patiently picking out some of the music he 
 loved but could not make; swinging down the High with
 
 LETTERS OF FRIENDS 89 
 
 his ill-fated Paul behind him, many minutes late for a 
 lecture; or up in the little room at the top of the house, 
 surrounded by many books and heaps of untidiness, 
 arguing far into the night with a few familiar disputants 
 and much tobacco always alive, always interested, al- 
 ways a companion. 
 
 We used to tell him he was always talking; but in truth, 
 he never wearied us ; whether revelling in a long argument 
 on any topic from philosophy to Rugby football, or in 
 the badinage of every day, when he would overwhelm his 
 opponent with the rounded repartee of parliamentary 
 phrase, at which he was an adept; passionately defending 
 his religious convictions in some heretical and hostile club ; 
 describing with real wit some old incident of Winchester, 
 or epitomising with huge solemnity some sermon, play, 
 or speech which had specially impressed him talking, 
 yes, but we loved it. 
 
 I see him in a hundred smoky college rooms, the 
 meeting-places of the many clubs which prized his 
 speaking. Always he seemed to dominate the scene; 
 usually one felt he was right. And for all his ability in 
 public debate, it was this kind of informal discussions 
 which most manifested his real greatness. Others might 
 make a point, bark out a few disjointed retorts, or exhaust 
 a side-issue, but none could so ably draw together the 
 threads of the discussion, and with so much knowledge 
 of political history and tendencies, and give his theme a 
 constructive and comprehensive treatment. On these 
 evenings the rest of us, at best, were young politicians ; 
 he seemed like a young statesman. He was curiously 
 lazy about getting up any subject involving much detail 
 or the study of figures, Tariff Reform, for example; but 
 in the treatment of broad questions of policy he surprised 
 any Oxford and, as we thought, many a London speaker. 
 We told him he might be Prime Minister, but would never 
 make a Chancellor of the Exchequer. 
 
 Always he had the grand air; superbly brusque or even 
 arrogant, superbly gallant and courteous, according to his
 
 90 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 pleasure. To see him at the head of his regal breakfast- 
 parties, or entertaining a Cabinet Minister or a body of 
 Members, was a lesson in confidence and courtliness. Yet 
 in a great measure he was a child like his fellows, fond 
 of simple jests and simple pleasures, excited motor-drives 
 to Winchester aud noisy sing-songs round the piano. 
 Everything he did he did with a zest, indeed with too 
 much zest for his success in the Schools. I remember a 
 mock-trial being held in one of the Colleges. Gilbert, 
 with a borrowed wig, was a perfect judge. Every little 
 mannerism of the High Court Bench was there, the mild 
 jokes, the paternal treatment of witnesses, the elaborate 
 pronouncement of obvious deductions all was portrayed 
 to the life. Indeed, I think he secretly relished the idea 
 of the Courts, and, if he had been nothing more, he would 
 have been a great advocate. 
 
 I do not know what impression the above may give; 
 but I hope it is not one of a mind devoted to the narrow 
 circle of University politics; for indeed the catholicity of 
 his ideals and enthusiasms was to me an abiding wonder. 
 All the little hidden corners of Oxford and Oxford life, 
 all the curious and interesting characters, Oxford, old 
 and young, he knew and loved. He had views about 
 everything and everybody, and in conversation with him 
 the ordinary undergraduate was continually startled by 
 the contrast which his own mind presented in this respect 
 to Gilbert's. To his room came all manner of men for 
 in spite of a certain superficial intolerance, no man had a 
 more varied acquaintance dons, young and old, gilded 
 youth from the House who did not appreciate his powers 
 but loved his company, pale Union aspirants who made 
 him their model but would never make him their com- 
 panion, pure thinkers, and pure athletes, and the dark- 
 skinned Christians whom for their faithand their allegiance 
 he was not ashamed to respect and cultivate. One night 
 he would be the very soul of some gay gathering, the 
 best of young Englishmen about living, infecting all with 
 his high spirits and the next evening would see him
 
 LETTERS OF FRIENDS 91 
 
 surrendering two valuable working hours to attend a 
 converted Indian's confirmation. And I am sure that he 
 was even more concerned about the success of the Bishop 
 of Oxford's seven-day mission to undergraduates than 
 about that, to him immense, occasion of his Union 
 Presidency, the visit of Mr. Lloyd George. 
 
 In grown men these may be little things; in an under- 
 graduate they are much. 
 
 I never saw him since the War; and one wishes one 
 had been with him in France. I know how he must have 
 delighted in the colour, the life, the sense of adventure 
 that belongs to the area of war, before ever the beastli- 
 ness begins. 
 
 I can imagine him in the harbours, at the wayside 
 stations, in the ruined towns, keenly interested in every- 
 thing he saw, and storing up everywhere unconsciously 
 the most vivid views and impressions ; full of dry comment 
 and his own inimitable humour. 
 
 And that perhaps is the truest tribute that one man 
 can pay to another ; that, above all, he would have gone 
 to the War in that man's company. 
 
 From the Archbishop of York 
 
 . . . Gilbert! I think of my first sight of him a little 
 sleeping babe in your room at the Vicarage, Leeds of 
 my last sight of him last Eastertide at Farnham, in all 
 his exuberant vitality, yet with that look in his face 
 which I now know so well in the face of boys going out 
 to the front the shadow of danger to come. I think of 
 the years between the exuberance of life and interests 
 and ambitions becoming gradually disciplined and deep- 
 ened. How could we have thought that this was to be 
 the way in which all that abounding life was to be com- 
 pleted and consecrated? Sooner than we thought, and by 
 the way of the Cross, so unexpected, so wonderful, it has
 
 92 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 achieved its noble end. In a moment, in that call " Come 
 along, lads," in that swift following call for the supreme 
 sacrifice, accepted and followed, it was completed. Then, 
 silence and God. Very solemn, very great. . . . 
 
 From Colonel de Burgh 
 
 In a year of sorrow and of abundant service and 
 sacrifice, there were three men among those who honoured 
 me with their friendship, who perhaps stand out from the 
 rest in the similarity of their character and the fruitful- 
 ness of their short lives. They were of about the same 
 age, they were all Oxford men, and they all died sudden 
 and violent deaths. They were all accomplished men, 
 with visions, such as only the young can dream. They 
 each had their peculiarities and faults, as they were 
 struggling each in his own way to maturity. One char- 
 acteristic was common to all they drew their inspira- 
 tion from a Person, and they will all shine as the stars 
 for ever. . . . 
 
 The third and last to die for England it all happened 
 about the same time was Gilbert Talbot. 
 
 It would be difficult, but for that common Bond of 
 Union, to discover ground for close friendship between 
 persons differing so widely in character and interests. 
 On the one hand a boy gay, impulsive, poetic, strenuous, 
 affectionate, reckless even in his extreme untidiness, and 
 immersed in political aspirations and thought, which 
 might, had he lived, have culminated in a strong, clear- 
 sighted and honest statesmanship ; on the other hand a 
 man prosaic, rather tired, hating politics and noise, but 
 still alive to all the interests and strain of healthy youth. 
 
 Yet so it was. I love order ; the contemplation of his 
 writing-table at Oxford more than once caused a friendly 
 quarrel between us, because I knew that letters must 
 have gone unanswered. He had a large correspondence. 
 I was impatient: until at last I began to realize that
 
 LETTERS OF FRIENDS 93 
 
 youth has not yet learned to pick up and save the odd 
 minutes of the working day and to use time to some 
 purpose. A man has to learn that necessity with great 
 trouble. And anyone could see that this fault was not 
 idleness, but the instinct of a great, unselfish, happy,loving 
 heart, reaching out to the interests of those among whom 
 he lived. . . . His love for and pride in his immediate 
 family was almost pathetic : the happiness of his home 
 was a constant theme : and he was always sure of their 
 love for and interest in him to a degree that I am not 
 aware to have personally known of in any other case. 
 
 But Gilbert Talbot had seen the seamy side of life 
 and shuddered at it. He had had no time, I imagine, to 
 see much of what we call the dregs of society, although 
 he was quite aware that the dark places of the Earth are 
 full of cruelty. But he had touched part of a society 
 enervated by ease and abundance of idleness and neglect- 
 ing to bring up its sons in a vivid sense of responsibility 
 for the poor and needy. His strenuous stand for truth, 
 honour, clean-living and righteousness, cost him to my 
 knowledge more than a smaller man would lightly 
 have given away, and more than quite as honourable, 
 but less brave a man, could have endured. . . . 
 
 I will not insult the memory of my friend by saying 
 that he had no enemies. I have a pretty wide experience 
 of men, and have never known one worth a button who 
 has had no enemies. The slacker is always the enemy of 
 the keen, the unclean always the enemy of the clean, the 
 knave always that of the gentleman. ... I never heard 
 of a coward cheerfully enduring obloquy, sneers, contempt 
 and even persecution, with an offensive misunderstanding 
 of his motives in high places. Gilbert Talbot did all this 
 in his day, and the bravest thing he ever did was to go 
 cheerfully to his death in the Army of Britain, disliking at 
 first the demands of its discipline, and its wearisome pre- 
 paration. . . . And yet I venture to think, as an old 
 soldier, that it was just this very discipline, order, and 
 attention to detail that he required, together with the
 
 94 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 ultimate and final tragedy of his sacrifice, to enable him 
 to attain the complete stature of his final manhood. 
 
 And so I leave my trio. The great thing is that each 
 has left some mark on some one youth. The second of 
 my trio was shot through the head, helping one of the 
 boys to whom he had devoted his life, just after writing 
 to me from his trench words such as these: "This place 
 is terrible Hell, but I am more at peace with God and 
 man than ever I have felt before in my life. So long as 
 there is but one man left in England who will help these 
 boys in to the Light, all must be well." Such a man was 
 Gilbert Talbot, and being dead " he yet speaketh." 
 
 And what he " speaks " to the Public School, to the 
 Varsity both of which he knew well and to the Army 
 of which he knew but a little, though it took his all, is 
 this: that nothing, nothing on earth matters but to live 
 a Life, be it long or short, strong, clean, and faithful to the 
 Head of your Order, faithful and enduring to the End. 
 
 From the " Westminster Gazette " 
 GILBERT WALTER LYTTELTON TALBOT 
 A Reminiscence by J. G. Swift MacNeill, K.C., M.P. 
 
 I confess my feelings were poignant when I saw in 
 the Roll of Honour that Mr. Gilbert Talbot's life had 
 been laid down in the service of his country a life which, 
 I am convinced, would, had it been prolonged, have 
 rendered the tides of human affairs more lustrous. I met 
 him once only, and then but for a few hours, in circum- 
 stances, however, that strongly impressed me with his 
 taking and brilliant personality. 
 
 So far back as November 1873 I went over from 
 Oxford to move a Home Rule resolution at the Cam- 
 bridge Union, which, to my great delight was carried. 
 It was the first Home Rule resolution, as my friend 
 Professor Courtney Kenny, who took part in the debate 
 and with whom many years afterwards I sat in the
 
 MR. SWIFT MACNEILL 95 
 
 House of Commons, told me, that was ever carried in 
 England at a British, as distinguished from an Irish, 
 meeting. In gratification of a sentiment, I asked in 
 November 1913, just forty years afterwards to the very 
 day, to be permitted to move at the Cambridge Union a 
 similar resolution, which was likewise carried. The 
 Union authorities invited Mr. Gilbert Talbot, of Christ 
 Church, Oxford, who was then President of the Oxford 
 Union and very noted for his intense devotion to the 
 maintenance of the legislative relations then existing be- 
 tween Great Britain and Ireland, to oppose the motion. 
 He accepted the invitation, and I met him at dinner the 
 evening of the debate. He was a strongly built, athletic 
 young fellow, with very refined and pleasing features 
 and attractive manners. He reminded me, as I told him, 
 of his father, the present Bishop of Winchester, when he 
 was a Don at Christ Church, not much older than his 
 son then was, and from whom I received my first lessons 
 in English Law. I was much struck by Mr. Talbot's 
 extensive knowledge of practical politics, his trained and 
 wonderfully matured intelligence, and his openly avowed 
 desire for a Parliamentary career, in which I predicted 
 for him a success which would throw additional lustre on 
 the record of his family, both on his father's and his 
 mother's side, in the House of Lords and Commons. 
 
 I followed, of course, his speech in opposition to myself 
 with an eager attention. It was admirably arranged and 
 reasoned, and as he had to reply on the spur of the 
 moment to several points which he could not have 
 anticipated, I was filled with admiration at his alertness 
 of mind, quickness of apprehension, and intellectual 
 resources. He had great wealth of diction, but through- 
 out, I thought, spoke under studied self-restraint, which 
 indicated a reserve of strength to be exercised if need be. 
 He did not fail to reply with tact, judgement, fairness, 
 and undoubted effect to every argument. His points 
 were always good. He never condescended to a smart 
 debating rejoinder, nor did he ever press any argument
 
 96 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 in which he did not himself believe with an absolute and 
 evident conviction. 
 
 He began his speech in a conversational style; his 
 rich-toned and finely-modulated voice gave him a most 
 favourable introduction to his audience, and as the speech 
 progressed he rose into simple but very moving eloquence. 
 He was throughout (with one exception) strictly imper- 
 sonal. He gave his opponents credit for sincerity equal 
 to his own. He never used a denunciatory term, although 
 he visited certain political attitudes with grave censure. 
 He treated his antagonists with an exquisite courtesy 
 which was not studied but quite unconscious, the result 
 of a charming disposition. Only once was there a 
 personal note in his address, when, turning to myself, he 
 said he could not but feel grieved for me in having spent 
 my life in what he regarded as a hopeless struggle. His 
 speech, needless to say, was a great success. I never saw 
 Mr. Talbot afterwards, but I always looked forward with 
 confidence to his attainment of the position in public life 
 to which his talents and moral earnestness entitled him. 
 As an old Christ Church man I felt proud of him as 
 a member of that college which has given so many 
 eminent public men to their country. Like Mr. W. G. C. 
 Gladstone, another President of the Oxford Union in 
 whom so many hopes were centred, he has closed a 
 young life full of promise by a glorious death in a holy 
 cause. 
 
 From Hermione Lyttelton 
 
 Gilbert as a friend was all generous. All that he 
 experienced of good or interesting or funny and he 
 extracted much of all three out of his short life he 
 brought to me. So that one might share the happiness 
 of the experience. As his friend, one almost seemed to 
 live with him the life of interest and delicious companion- 
 ship at Oxford and in his adored home; and later in all
 
 LETTERS OF FRIENDS 97 
 
 the varied happenings of that Service Battalion training 
 for the front. 
 
 He had a wonderful gift of narrative. Many of us try 
 to describe incidents, funny sayings, etc., and often fail 
 to convey either the interest or the humour. Gilbert 
 hardly ever failed in this; he made one feel the atmo- 
 sphere, and brought home to one the point or humour, 
 whether of serious discussions or chance sayings. He 
 got the utmost out of life, and equally he seemed to get 
 the utmost out of people. It was a great gift of his to 
 discover hearts of gold, or brains, or wit in people of 
 often commonplace exteriors. He was always saying: 
 " Oh, he 's a heavenly fellow, rather dull with most people 
 but amazingly so-and-so when you know him." Whether 
 the individual in question had character and little brain 
 or brain and little character, or was one of the many in- 
 termediate types, he saw his point and generally made 
 friends with him. 
 
 He was infinitely sympathetic; and in return for all 
 he gave one, he exacted complete confidence. 
 
 He always encouraged and strengthened one; at the 
 same time he pointed out one's faults with a truth and 
 lucidity entirely irresistible to one's judgement: but it 
 never hurt. 
 
 With him died to this world a combination of most of 
 the gifts which go to make a perfect friend. 
 
 From Robin Barrington Ward, Balliol College 
 
 Gilbert came up to Oxford a year after me, and as 
 we were both " interested in politics," as the usual classifi- 
 cation goes, we were soon friends. A man like Gilbert 
 was bound to be discussed a good deal in the gossipy 
 atmosphere of Oxford rooms, and I know that I often 
 heard him described as "old for his years." This state- 
 ment, to my mind untrue, nevertheless expressed a 
 truth. It bore witness to one of Gilbert's most striking 
 characteristics, an open, unusual and unashamed interest 
 
 G
 
 98 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 in all the things that mattered. But the phrase I thought 
 fitted nobody less. Nobody could have had a cheerier, a 
 less solemn friend. Whether he was in my rooms in the 
 morning, twitting me with and contributing to the 
 disorder on my table and the lateness of my uprising, 
 whether we were walking in the afternoon he and 
 " Benny " (E. W. Benison) and myself or had fore- 
 gathered in Walter Monckton's rooms, nobody was 
 quicker to see and to point out the humour of things. 
 
 Naturally I saw a good deal of Gilbert at the Union, 
 of which we were both officers. He was keen to become 
 President, but had the most complete contempt for the 
 squalid intrigues that often accompany that ambition. I 
 think it was largely due to the sincerity and reality of 
 any views he held that he was one of the notable 
 speakers of his time at Oxford. On his "off" days the 
 form of his speeches was not too good, often rather long, 
 often a little laboured. For it mattered less to him what 
 his speech was like than that his advocacy of the cause 
 for which he was speaking should be effective. He never 
 revealed himself more clearly than in his speeches. They 
 were entirely characteristic, and so thought one listen- 
 ing " wobbler " uncompromisingly honest. 
 
 But largely as Gilbert's interest in politics bulked, he 
 would discuss with you full of the same zeal and clear- 
 ness painting, music, the latest plays, literature, religion, 
 and cricket. I know of no one who got more out of life 
 while he lived. 
 
 Gilbert was a friend who did not forget his friends. 
 We only met twice out here, once in Ypres, and once by 
 a ruined brasserie when leaving trenches. On both 
 occasions conversation started away on the old terms. 
 Often since the day we were at Hooge, and contemporary 
 Oxford payed a heavy toll, I have remembered and 
 shall remember baaaKig a^orlpot TjAtov tv \ia\-g KartSva- 
 apfv with gratitude for a friendship that stimulated and 
 lasted.
 
 GILBERT ON THE "TITANIC" 99 
 
 III. A FEW CHARACTERISTIC CONTRIBUTIONS 
 OF HIS OWN 
 
 Part of an address l to the Canning Club, Oxford, on the 
 loss of the " Titanic" April, 1912 
 
 ... In the second place, while I do not wish to be 
 melodramatic, the drama of the loss of this ship seems 
 to me to possess a significance of the most practical 
 kind, which should give us both some indication if 
 that is needed of the state of society at the present 
 moment, and of the direction in which it is necessary 
 for the upper classes to move. I mean, that it seems 
 to me beyond dispute that this giant ship was built 
 and fitted out on a scale of luxury which is surely abso- 
 lutely indefensible. Consider, in some of the accounts 
 which have appeared in the Press, for a five or six days 
 which are spent by these passengers in crossing the 
 Atlantic, what are only a few of the pleasures and luxuries 
 in which they apparently find it necessary to indulge: 
 She had a splendidly equipped gymnasium, in which 
 English or American millionaires could work off the 
 effects of last night's dinner: Turkish and electric baths, 
 probably designed for the same purpose: a beautifully 
 designed swimming bath : squash racquet courts : several 
 restaurants and cafes: bedrooms and suites designed in 
 several periods, including Queen Anne, modern Dutch, 
 Georgian, Louis XV, and Louis XVI: a machine by 
 which those who wished could practise the bicycle: and, 
 most notable of all, two suites for which it was necessary 
 to pay the sum of 870 one of the features of which 
 was a private promenade deck which no foot was allowed 
 to tread save that of the occupant. The cost of this vessel 
 was nearly ; 1,750,000. She was 882 feet 6 inches long: 
 her tonnage was 46,382, and her displacement 60,000 tons. 
 
 1 This address has a rather special interest as read in the light 
 of to-day.
 
 ioo GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 This vast floating Ritz, taking her maiden voyage, was 
 in the mishap of an instant rendered completely impotent 
 to make any resistance against the forces of the sea. I 
 was forcibly reminded of the scenes in the " Last Days of 
 Pompeii " by the accounts you read of the last scenes on 
 board the "Titanic." Nothing in Lord Lytton's novel 
 can exceed the dramatic qualities of the occasion : it was 
 evening, and after dinner, the wealthy and well-dressed 
 crowd were engaged in the vast variety of amusements 
 which the great ship afforded : jewels, for which the Press 
 have given various equally amazing estimates, were being 
 worn by the lady passengers. At this moment, when none 
 had thought of danger, and most were engaged only in 
 pleasure, there was a shock, the obvious effects of which 
 we are told were so slight as not seriously to alarm 
 any save those actually in charge of the ship. After some 
 enquiry as to the cause of the shock most people began 
 to resume their pleasures, and it was not till the fateful 
 order that all passengers should come on deck in their 
 lifebelts was passed round, that there was any inkling that 
 1,500 odd of those on board were within a few hours of 
 their death. Even then fear took some time to spread. 
 We are told that many were reluctant to enter the life- 
 boat because they thought the panic unnecessary, and the 
 ship certainly the most comfortable and probably the 
 safest place, comforted as they were by the confident 
 assertion that the " Titanic " was unsinkable. The band, 
 the heroism of which throughout was not the least remark- 
 able of these events, kept up everybody's spirits by play- 
 ing cheerful and attractive airs. But as the hours passed, 
 the true gravity of the situation became more apparent, 
 as an ominous sinking of the bows became more and more 
 obvious. The lights of the great ship became extinguished, 
 the engines slipped rattling and roaring through the 
 length of the ship, and in this horror of darkness and 
 panic there took place those heart-rending scenes of terror, 
 heroism, and separation, of which we had such vivid 
 accounts. Finally, the ship rearing up into the air, the
 
 GILBERT ON THE "TITANIC" 101 
 
 Band changing from its light airs to the tune of " Nearer 
 my God to Thee," and with the Captain standing at his 
 post to the end, and as his last message shouting through 
 the megaphone to the crowds below the simple but surely 
 immortal message " Be British " this miracle of science 
 and seamanship and invention and of luxury, carrying 
 with it 1,500 lives, sank for ever from the sight of men. 
 
 Now as I have said, this disaster seems to me to have 
 considerable practical significance. I have already men- 
 tioned the scale of luxury on which it was constructed, 
 and I wish to refer to that again in a moment, but before 
 doing so I should like to say that in my opinion the union 
 of sorrow which has drawn England and America together, 
 and the sympathy which has been extended to us by 
 other great European nations, seem to me not mere formal 
 expressions which have nothing behind them, but genuine 
 signs of the attempt which is being made in every country 
 to make a practical move towards the ideal of universal 
 peace. There is no doctrine which is to me more damnable 
 than that international politics are governed entirely by 
 force, and that the morals and ideals of the nations can, 
 when it comes to practical politics, be put out of count. 
 That is what is called " Re"al Politik " ; a great deal too 
 much of it is heard in Germany at present, as for instance 
 much which General Bernhardi has just published of it is 
 a doctrine which, if true, is a doctrine of despair. I believe 
 that the more the voice of the democracy in each country 
 can be allowed to make itself felt with regard to inter- 
 national relations, the less we shall be at the mercy of 
 financiers and diplomats, and the more it will be found 
 the desire of every nation is towards peaceful and un- 
 provocative expansion. If the disaster of the " Titanic " 
 can be used to stimulate this tendency, we can really say 
 that good has come out of evil. 
 
 Secondly, it would be foolish in discussing this disaster 
 not to notice the extraordinary heroism which was after 
 all displayed by practically everybody on board. I would 
 only say that the conduct of these English men and
 
 102 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 English women under such appalling circumstances is a 
 fact at any rate worthy of consideration by those who 
 declare that we are a decadent and moribund race. 
 
 But, as I have said, by far the most significant aspect 
 of this event seems to me the inordinate luxury which 
 was so elaborately constructed and so instantly destroyed. 
 It is always difficult, and usually priggish and wearisome, 
 to have to decide whether such and such a thing is too 
 luxurious or not. To raise such questions continually 
 makes life intolerable: but it is safe to say that the paying 
 of ^800 for a single suite for a five days' voyage is, without 
 any qualification whatever, utterly indefensible and morally 
 wrong. No really healthy individual would spend such a 
 sum of money: that there are individuals who do it is 
 not a symptom of a healthy state. We have all heard it 
 said in this Club, times without number, that the greatest 
 social reform which the Tory Party can give to the nation 
 is a decrease of luxury and a more intimate knowledge 
 of the interests of the working classes. That has now 
 become a platitude. The sinking of the " Titanic " has 
 enormously added to its force. Of course I do not mean 
 that the very greatest luxury is not at times justifiable 
 by any man. What is absolutely intolerable is that this 
 luxury should become a habit and a necessity. . . . 
 
 On Love. To a friend 
 
 ... It 's always been a tremendously strong instinct 
 with me to be afraid of the whole subject of love and to 
 avoid ever playing with it. I should feel absolutely as if I 
 was playing with dynamite. And then, too, I've always 
 had another instinct which is still harder to express, but I 
 mean a sort of idealizing of love and a terror of raising 
 up cheap imitations, which would spoil the ideal. All this 
 I say is a matter of instinct, not of thought or opinion. 
 Frankly, the view of your actress friend seems to me 
 intolerable. To have a series of pseudo-love affairs like
 
 ON "THE MODERN SITUATION" 103 
 
 that sounds too dreadful. And although one may not be 
 in earnest oneself, very possibly the other person is, and 
 then it 's such desperate bad luck on him or her. It 's all 
 very well to talk about being a butterfly, or on the other 
 hand for a man to be always making up to girls, but surely 
 there's a very cruel element in it. And if a man or woman's 
 life is nothing but a series of love affairs, will he or she 
 be able to know when something different from the others 
 comes along, and won't love be for them a thing they 
 have made hackneyed or common by much use? 
 
 I don't think it necessarily follows that anybody who 
 feels like that takes life seriously or has not got any 
 amount of "joie de vivre" At least I don't believe that I 
 really take life very seriously do I ? . . . 
 
 To a friend 
 
 Farnham. 
 
 July 28, 1912. 
 
 Neville arrived here yesterday for the week end. I have 
 been reading with immense interest an essay he has writ- 
 ten, called " The modern situation," which is to form one 
 of a book of seven theological essays by himself and some 
 other young men, and is to be published shortly. His line 
 of argument is that the change in modern thought from 
 Mid-Victorian thought is that whereas fiftyyears ago there 
 were certain assumptions about religion, morality, etc., 
 which everybody, of whatever opinion, took for granted 
 and nobody disputed now, nothing was taken for granted, 
 and there was no principle, however apparently obvious, 
 which some of the moderns did not question. The result 
 was for greater confusion and controversy and a greater 
 groping in the dark, with an almost passionate and panic- 
 stricken search for truth, which makes some of Wells' and 
 Galsworthy's writings, for instance, so wistful and poign- 
 ant. On the other hand, because men feel their founda- 
 tions much less secure, because the unrest in thought and
 
 104 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 convention is so great, the opportunity for Christianity is 
 greater than ever before because the religion of Christ 
 appeals primarily to those who feel the danger and per- 
 plexity more than to those who feel complacent and safe. 
 I'm sure the essay would interest you, because it 's 
 quite admirably written. I feel the truth of it very much. 
 The one thing the moderns will not tolerate at any price 
 is a formula which they are expected to take for granted. 
 And they are so right. It is foolish to expect human 
 nature to obey a system of morality and convention for 
 its own sake. What a person does is always eventually 
 determined by their personal relations. The conventions 
 and the system are necessary for the good of society, but 
 nobody will ever keep to them for that reason especially 
 in any moment of crisis. Therefore the appeal of religion 
 and Christianity must necessarily be personal. Christ does 
 not ask that what He lays down as Christian morality 
 should be kept chiefly because it is good in itself though 
 undoubtedly he does say that too but primarily because 
 His appeal is to personal attachment and love, which is 
 what will really direct the life of a man or a woman. 
 And that is what I believe will be the next development 
 of the moderns. There is a chaos at present and what 
 they search for is something personal. 
 
 The following extracts are from a paper which Gil- 
 bert read, as Secretary, at the Canning Club in February 
 1912 when he was twenty. It is customary for the 
 Secretary to read a paper bearing on the events and 
 impressions of various sorts during the vacation at the 
 opening of each term, and I think, in spite of the con- 
 siderable trouble involved in preparation for them, that 
 it was a pleasure to Gilbert to deliver these papers a 
 sort of " letting off of steam " in a year full of vivid public 
 interests.
 
 ON "THE GERMAN PROBLEM" 105 
 
 He saw a good deal of some of the German under- 
 graduates of his time, and in particular of a Mr. Hahm, 
 who enlisted his help and enthusiasm in forming an 
 Anglo-German Society of which he said in the early 
 part of 1915 that "the discussions which resulted were 
 genuine, interesting, and in view of after events I 
 think tragic." I remember Gilbert's dwelling on the 
 interest and pleasure of this intercourse, and when the 
 war broke out he wrote that " it is natural for any man, 
 who cares for truth, to try and make up his mind what 
 are really the rights and wrongs of this great quarrel." 
 
 Some will, I think, like to see how the " German 
 problem " was thought about by young fellows at Ox- 
 ford two or three years before this appalling war, [of 
 Christendom], and I add a short extract on China and 
 her marvellous development and advance, and on the 
 problem of her position in the future. 
 
 Extract from address at the opening meeting of the Canning 
 Club for the Lent Term 0/1912 
 
 ... I turn now to the important and ominous situa- 
 tion which exists between the great Powers of Europe, 
 and with which this country is definitely concerned. It 
 is impossible for anybody who soberly considers the 
 present relations between England and Germany, who 
 is genuinely anxious for peace, and who is not swayed 
 by mere alarmist feelings, to feel other than an intense 
 anxiety. We are assured by Englishmen who know 
 Germany that the feelings of a certain section at any 
 rate of the German nation are more sinister and less 
 conducive to peace than was the case, say, a year ago. 
 It cannot be said that the Agadir incident and the 
 Morocco negotiations have improved the relations be-
 
 106 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 tween the countries. It must be acknowledged quite 
 plainly that the German view of that episode and the 
 English view are in total disagreement, as was shown 
 by that most interesting debate which took place in this 
 Club last term, and which was attended by several very 
 able speakers from among the German members of the 
 University. . . . To preserve the peace of Europe has 
 ever been the policy of this country; and never was it 
 more imperatively necessary than at that moment. It 
 is nonsensical to think that a quarrel between France 
 and Germany is other than an European crisis which 
 must affect every other Power. . . . 
 
 The negotiations between the three countries, after 
 passing through a period of the acutest anxiety, reached 
 happily enough a peaceful solution ; and the quarrel is 
 at an end. But for anyone who reviews the facts in his 
 mind to imagine that the result of the whole affair would 
 be anything but a setback to the friendly relations of 
 the two countries is an impossibility. The German 
 scheme failed; they attempted, in our view, an un- 
 justifiable policy of force majeure; it was England's 
 duty, with as little provocation as possible, to see that 
 no untoward results followed on such an attempt. The 
 result in the German mind cannot be anything but a 
 feeling of annoyance and disappointment. We have 
 sufficient proof that this is the case. Any member of 
 this Club had only to do as I did, and ask the opinion 
 of one of our German friends on Sir Edward Grey's 
 speech directly after it was delivered, to discover how 
 real this feeling of embitterment and disappointment is. 
 
 But since the negotiations have come to a successful 
 conclusion, it is now the duty of everyone who realizes 
 what a colossal calamity war between England and 
 Germany would be to make every effort to get the 
 Morocco affair forgotten, and to develop a feeling of 
 friendliness between the two peoples. In passing, I 
 would, as far as I am personally concerned, wish to 
 protest with all the force in my power against the view
 
 ON "THE GERMAN PROBLEM" 107 
 
 which is heard quite commonly expressed, that war be- 
 tween England and Germany is inevitable. That is a 
 bit of despair and pessimism which I do not believe 
 should be tolerated a moment. The results in loss of 
 life and the complete disorganization of the commerce 
 of the two countries, and the consequent misery and 
 distress that would be caused, should make it intoler- 
 able for war to be called inevitable. And it should be 
 pointed out that every time that statement appears in 
 print it is a step back in the cause of peace and a pro- 
 vocation in the interests of war. Mr. Bonar Law will 
 never say a truer or wiser thing than that, if war did 
 take place, it would not be because it was inevitable, but 
 because of human folly. 
 
 But, for all that, considering both the Morocco nego- 
 tiations and the general situation, there is cause for the 
 deepest anxiety. Germany is beyond all doubt pro- 
 foundly dissatisfied with her position in the world, com- 
 mercially and territorially. She feels, as we have been 
 told so very often, that she is a great nation, progressive 
 and expanding, which must have an outlet for her com- 
 merce and population, and have ample opportunities for 
 developing her genius. They are confronted with Eng- 
 land, possessing the richest colonies in the world, and 
 with an established position on the commercial trade 
 routes. I don't think that any member of the Club feels 
 any doubt that, if it is reasonably possible, German ex- 
 pansion should be allowed to proceed as far as may be. 
 It is no use trying to hinder the growth of nations. Such 
 attempts are retrograde and provocative. But the su- 
 preme difficulty is that, although the subject has been 
 universally and carefully discussed, it is impossible to 
 understand what the practical demands of Germany are. 
 They are not for our colonies. Most reasonable Germans 
 realize that for the German people (who are not a good 
 colonizing race) to attempt to govern any of our great 
 self-governing dominions, is a piece of the most grotesque 
 and impossible folly. On lines of commercial expansion
 
 io8 GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 the problem is harder. England has not the smallest 
 desire to prevent the expansion of German commerce. 
 On the contrary, such expansion could only benefit our- 
 selves. But it is impossible to allow Germany to proceed 
 at our expense ; and when such expansion is at the ex- 
 pense of England, it is impossible for English statesmen 
 to consent to it. As a matter of fact, I do not believe 
 that this clash will often take place ; and I am perfectly 
 certain that it does not account for the present state of 
 feeling between the two countries. No commercial 
 squabbles would account for this far-reaching antagon- 
 ism, although they may have something to do with it 
 And in my opinion the situation is most correctly de- 
 scribed as I heard it the other day in conversation : that 
 Germany sees England's face everywhere, and wishes to 
 smack it! Their practical demands have never seen the 
 light of day. Much thought and ingenuity fails to pro- 
 duce them. But it is clear that a general irritation and 
 resentment is caused in the German breast by the con- 
 tinual prominence of England's power and prosperity. 
 
 To deal with such a state of feeling requires the great- 
 est patience and care. There is no solution except a 
 constant watch being kept by all who have the interests 
 of progress at heart in both countries that no provocative 
 action is taken, and no aggressive policy is resorted to. 
 This must be accompanied by steady education of pub- 
 lic opinion that on the one hand England's prosperity 
 and greatness is not a hindrance to German expansion 
 and German nationhood, and on the other that Germany's 
 wish to realize her fullest capacities and her highest 
 aims contains no peril for any part of the British Em- 
 pire. 
 
 In each country there are, however, a number of per- 
 sons whose attitude provides a real obstacle to a growing 
 understanding. The existence of this party in Germany 
 is proved by the fact that there is a definite demand for an 
 extravagant, disproportionate, and secretly- and swiftly- 
 built navy. The command of the sea is not necessary
 
 ON "THE GERMAN PROBLEM" 109 
 
 for German expansion : it is not necessary for German 
 colonization. And this attempt to race Great Britain as 
 a naval power shows (what competent observers in Ger- 
 many have already informed us is the case) that there is 
 a section of the German people whose object is aggression 
 pure and simple, who desire to supersede England in 
 command of the seas, and who in their hearts quite 
 frankly would rejoice in the destruction of this country. 
 To prevent this section gaining the upper hand must be 
 the continued and vigorous effort of all really patriotic 
 Germans. In England, on the other hand, there are, I 
 believe, a mere handful of people who actually wish for 
 war with Germany, or for an aggressive policy. But 
 there is a section of opinion which is almost as great a 
 danger. I mean those who take the view that war is 
 inevitable, and who stimulate this opinion by a kind of 
 flag-wagging jingoism which contains much sickening 
 bravado and little or no genuine patriotism or construc- 
 tive statesmanship. These opinions are sometimes given 
 expression in the songs which are heard in our panto- 
 mimes or music-hall entertainments. In fact there is a 
 song at this moment being given in the Drury Lane 
 Pantomime which has received a suitable castigation 
 from the able and unprejudiced Editor of "Punch." 
 These songs can be most dangerous in stimulating public 
 opinion in the wrong direction, and in giving needless 
 offence to foreigners who happen to be in our midst. I 
 would submit that it is the imperative duty of all true 
 Tories to do everything in their power to defeat this 
 kind of opinion, and to persuade the people of this 
 country that a friendly understanding with Germany, 
 though difficult of realization, is a practicable and desir- 
 able policy. . . . 
 
 I wish now to refer to another of the events of the 
 Vacation, very briefly, and in connection with the re- 
 marks which I have just been making. I mean the 
 extraordinary convulsion which has taken place in China.
 
 I io GILBERT TALBOT 
 
 It has been obvious for some time past to all who have 
 given any consideration to the subject, that the vast 
 millions of the yellow races have been beginning to 
 rouse themselves, after centuries of barbarism, to adopt 
 some of the civilization, thought, and methods of Europe. 
 
 We have already seen Japan become a world power of 
 the very first importance. There has been growing also 
 an increasing anxiety as to what will be the effect on the 
 world of an awakening to energy of the Chinese Empire, 
 especially when they become armed with the weapons of 
 modern war and trained with modern strategy and skill. 
 Partly civilized they may be: but their civilization must 
 necessarily be their own, and fundamentally unlike that 
 of ourselves. Moreover, the vast majority of the Chinese 
 are not Christians; and their paganism bears practical 
 fruit in a lower standard of morality, and at times a quite 
 savage cruelty. What will be the effect of the move- 
 ment of this people, in numbers so vastly superior to 
 the European nations? Such questions have been asked 
 with increasing emphasis for the last twenty years. The 
 revolution in China, and the fall of the Manchu dynasty, 
 has added enormously to their significance. It is impos- 
 sible to criticize the events which have taken place, or to 
 say whether or not it would have been better for China 
 to remain under a monarchy or to become a republic. 
 Only one who had lived for years on the spot would be 
 justified in advancing an opinion. But what is clear is 
 that the old government of China was corrupt, tyrannical, 
 and barbaric, and that under it no progress or applica- 
 tion of new ideas was possible. With a mighty effort 
 the Chinese have thrown off the yoke. They have got a 
 new reformed government: and the possibilities of the 
 future are unlimited. It is quite safe to say that this 
 event is as important as anything that has happened in 
 the course of the last century. 
 
 What should be the attitude of Europe towards re- 
 formed China, or towards the yellow races generally, is 
 again a question which I shall not attempt to answer.
 
 ON "THE FUTURE OF CHINA" in 
 
 But clearly the problem before us is that some arrange- 
 ment ought to be arrived at by the great European 
 civilizations in conjunction with America, by which, in the 
 event of the yellow races becoming aggressive, Christian 
 civilization and progress could be defended and could 
 survive. . . . As I have tried to indicate, the question 
 of the relations of England and Germany, the awaken- 
 ing of China, the possibilities of Imperial union or Im- 
 perial federation, both on commercial and defensive lines, 
 all form part of one vast world problem which I hope 
 may engage the attention of the Club in its various 
 aspects on several different occasions. The difficulties 
 resolve themselves into the following questions: 
 
 (i) How can an European war, which would be utterly 
 destructive of modern commerce, be averted? 
 
 (ii) How can the peoples of England and Germany be 
 brought into a trustful and willing friendliness? 
 
 (iii) What steps, if any, should be taken by the West- 
 ern peoples to meet the new movement in 
 China? 
 
 (iv) Are the present bonds of the British Empire ade- 
 quate to preserve its integrity? or is it possible 
 to change them (a} in defensive matters; (b} in 
 matters of sentiment; (c] in commercial affairs? 
 
 Perhaps the discussion this evening may to some extent 
 answer some of these questions.
 
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