AN OCTOGENARIAN OPTIMIST

Dominion, Volume 9, Issue 2688, 7 February 1916, Page 3

AN OCTOGENARIAN OPTIMIST

SIR GEORGE BIRDWOOD IN "LIVELY RETIREMENT"

VIEWS ON THE WAR

That genial philosopher, Sir George Birdwood, who, after well nigh half a century of public service in the East and at the India Office, recently celebrated his 84th birthday. He is now spending the evening of his days in what lie calls "lively retirement" m the brisk suburb of Ealing. Here a "Daily News" representative called upon him at an hour when nw.st of Ealing, judging from tho look of it, was asleep. My hand trembled on the knocker it seemed so ridiculously early . But the door swung open and there stood Sir George, in a long, flowered dressing-gown (redolent of the Jiast). Turkish slippers, and a little black skull cap perched on his head. He beamed through his glasses. ''Come in—come ' in!" said ho. Early? Surely you don't call this early! Come in and have a glass of port! Early Good heavens, sir! My day s nearly done I Up at four this morning, as I always am, rain or shine, hurricane or hailstorm —up at four, , writing, writing, and taking it out of nld Anno Domini!"

Sir George seized me by the arm,, end marched me into a room of Indian cabinets, lacjuer-work, and old prints. t( l°u have interrupted me." said he, m the middle of a very cherished occupation. Cutting the pages of the Athenaeum'— a rare privilege indeed, tor I m tho last man in the world able ir a enr years ago the publishers sent out the magazine to their subscribers uncut. Then, to my "horror, one day I received mine smoothly and neatly cut —and it nearly broke my heart; for one of my minor joys 0 '" e to go through the leaves ot the Athenaeum' slowyly and methodically with an ivory paper-knife, sipping the vintage (excuse the solecism), so to speak, leaf by leaf. I wrote aiid objected to the hateful innovation, and now the -editor always reserves one popy for me uncut. And here it is 1 "Dlotlonary Birdwood," "I , was brought up on the 'Ath'ena6 i Um .-i^. al ? 'Times/ and Lemprieres Dictionary': if it hadn't been for them youd never have heard of Sir ueorge Birdwood! I was brought up in a parsonage on 'Atnenaeum' milk to wash down the more solid slabs of Walter and Lempriere. Thanks raaiuly to them, I licked all the other boys at school, I was credited with possessing a phenomenal knowledge: as a boy I was known solely as 'Dictionary Birdwood —audi the name stuck. Writing, journalism—always fascinated me, and they fascinate mo still, on the doorstop of four-and-eighty. At the age of nine I took the plunge; I became a journalist, with a capital J, and began writing for . But no! Lot tho dead past bury its dead!" A faint tinge, almost a blush, was observable upon Sir George's cheek. "Perhaps 1 d better not let tlhe cat out of the bag," he said wistfully. "Confession is good' for the soul,';' said I. "You began writing for —- what?" 1 "For the 'Family Henld'!" said Sir George. He folded his fantastic dress-ing-gown about his lithe little figure and laughed such a laugh as might have como from Puck. "At tho age of nine the wisdom I had imbibed from tho then uncut pages of tho 'Athsnaeuni' appeared—in a slightly different form— in the thrilling sheets of the 'Family Herald I .' .... "But seriously, now. You want to interview me? No! I hate the very word. I have refused to bo 'interviewed' hundreds of times. Why Should I, an old man—a lean and slipper'd pantaloon—make a parade of myself for firing off copyboofi maxims and all that kind of nonsense at my time of life? I have no copybook maxims to hand just now. _ If you want them, if you desire my views of life, death, and the great hereafter—go back seventy-five years and look up the files of the 'Family Herald'!" Ho laughed again, rubbing his hands. ( Why Cermany Will Lose. "But I don't mind a friendly little Sunday morning gossip like this," he said, "so long as you don't niako it too serious; and I don't mind giving you in a phrase my idea of things as they are. At eighty-four I'm an optimist. I can see the sun shining; and I will tell you that so sure as that sun rises to-morrow, so certain shall we see our enemies sooner or later on tlieir knees. There are two things which will smash Germany. First, the -unbridled spirit of hatred m which' they flung themselves neck and crop into this campaign. The cocksurcncss. of them—the dead certainty -with -which they declared they were goino; to batter through. Traio, it very nearly came off; but 'very nearly' is a far cry from 'quite.' We caught them on the hop! "And secondly—their supreme, their amazing lack of the sense of humour. In war, as in life, that goes far —very, very far indeed. You may be sure that the man —whether he be King or campaigner—who starts out on a mission of adventure or conquest or love, or anything else, without a sense of humour, will - in the end 1 be out-adven-tured, out-generalled, out-manoeuvred by the man who has that sense. "The saving quality of respect, too, goes very far. _ We have made a very great mistake in our continual railing of the Prussian, sneering at him, hurling invective at him, and treating him with contumely. Wellington said many wise things, but never a wiser . than that oft-quoted sentence —'Never speak ill of the enemy.' Tho enemy may deserve it. God knows the Prussian has. But we must not let our wrath consume our appreciation of natural dignity. Fight the Hun —fight him, yes, and go all out for him. But do not fight him with the wagging tongue. Fight him with the clenched teeth! "And so —in the end we shall win; and though I am an old man, and very tottery about the legs, I hope to live to see the dawn of peace—not a patc'h-ed-up peace—we have travelled too far for that—but a struggle fought out to the glorious end, as we, with the help of God and tho thrust of our own strong arm, can and ivill fight it out I" H.A. f =====