B-Berry and I Look Back

by Dornford Yates

  “I wholly agree,” said Jonah. “It simply amounts to this. Crimes of violence are barbarous crimes. As such, they are committed by barbarous men. Barbarous men fear corporal punishment, as they fear nothing else. If, therefore, they know that crimes of violence will meet with the rope or the lash, they will not commit them. That’s all.”

  “I entirely agree. And now let’s forget the matter. I remember a case with which I had something to do. And it has a curious tail-piece, to which only I can speak. The trouble is that, while I can remember the details, I can’t remember the form which the action took.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” said Berry.

  “It does to me. If I get it wrong, in a lawyer’s eyes it will vitiate the reminiscence.”

  “You’re not drawing an indictment,” said Jonah.

  “I know; but—”

  “Darling,” said Jill, “your memory is terribly good but who could look back forty years and never make a mistake?”

  “Some people can, my sweet. Or used to be able to. Modern conditions don’t favour remembrance. But Asquith, for instance, had an astonishing memory.”

  “That I can believe,” said Jonah. “Did he never refer to his brief?”

  “I couldn’t tell you,” I said. “I never saw him in court. But somewhere or other I read that he once performed a truly astonishing feat – so astonishing that, if one may take it as a sample of what he could do, even for his great days he must have been outstanding.”

  “Let’s have it,” said Berry.

  I hesitated.

  “All right,” I said, “but we’d better not put it in. I don’t think I read it in a book: I think I read it in a letter which somebody wrote to some paper: but, although I’m sure it’s quite true, we must not run the risk of its being already in print.”

  “If we haven’t heard it, I think you might chance that,” said Jonah.

  “Well, we’ll see. I think it occurred at a house-party at his home, two or three years after the end of the first great war. Several people were gathered about the fire and were discussing racing. Asquith, who had probably never been on a race-course, held his peace. Presently an argument arose as to what had won the Derby in, say, 1902. Nobody could be sure, but somebody suggested Rock Sand. Then a quiet voice said, ‘Ard Patrick. Rock Sand won the Derby in 1903.’ Yes, it was Asquith. As soon as he could speak, ‘Are you quite sure?’ said someone. ‘Quite sure,’ said Asquith, and, with that, he proceeded to name every single Derby winner from 1890 on. Naturally, everyone was staggered – and I don’t blame them at all. I can only suppose that he’d always seen the name on the posters or in The Times and that every year it had passed automatically into a special compartment in his memory. The real marvel was that he could identify that compartment and could draw upon it when he pleased.”

  “A great achievement,” said Jonah. “The astonishing thing being that racing meant nothing to him. How many million compartments did such a memory hold? I daresay Winston could do it: but then he likes racing – and has always been far more human than ever Asquith was. But with that great exception, I find it hard to believe that there is anyone, other than an expert, who could do such a thing today.”

  “Or I, either,” said Berry. “Didn’t Rock Sand win the Triple Crown?”

  “Yes,” said Jonah. “It was won three times in five years – by Flying Fox, Diamond Jubilee and Rock Sand – but thirty-two years went by before it was won again. Then Bahram brought it off. I don’t count the war years, of course, for the courses were not the true ones.”

  “Has a filly ever won it?” said Daphne.

  “I don’t think so. Sceptre came very near.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Jill, “but what is the Triple Crown?”

  “There are five classic races,” said Jonah. “The Two Thousand Guineas, The One Thousand Guineas, The Derby, The Oaks and The St Leger. To win the Triple Crown, a horse must win The Two Thousand Guineas, The Derby and The St Leger. Sceptre won every classic, except The Derby – a really wonderful show. And now let’s get back to the Old Bailey.”

  “Not the Old Bailey,” I said. “The High Court. I believe this was called an action for an account. That doesn’t sound right somehow; but I will explain what I mean. Incidentally, if justice could have been done, this case would have been tried at the Old Bailey. But that’s by the way.

  “There was once a wealthy young waster, aged about twenty-five. He was not the type that takes the bit in his teeth, but he was just hopeless. His family could do nothing with him. He had, I need hardly say, an unswerving belief in the virtue of alcohol.

  “Well, he had his own money, so the family couldn’t cut him off. But if they could have taken such action, he’d simply have sunk into death. The poor fellow was docile enough, but he had no guts. So the family decided that he should make a world tour – in sober company. Money, I may say, was no object. Accordingly, they procured a tutor. His references satisfied them that he was a dependable man. The case was explained to him: he proved to be most understanding; and the youth was committed to his charge. The two were to do the thing properly. They were to proceed to the East, visiting Cairo and Colombo on the way to China and Japan. They were then to make for Honolulu and from there proceed to the Americas, South and North. The tutor was to render reports and to discharge such expenses as were incurred. In other words, he was to hold the purse, for to give the youth money was to cast it into the draught.

  “Well, the two set out. No expense was to be spared, so they travelled in luxury. The tutor quite understood that the youth was to have the best that money could buy… The weeks went by, and at every port at which the liner touched the tutor posted a report upon their progress. The reports were comfortable. Three weeks at Cairo had proved extremely expensive, but the youth was enjoying himself and behaving well. The relations, sitting at home, cabled more money to Colombo with sighs of content.

  “At last the two reached Honolulu. After a fortnight there, the tutor reported by cable that his charge found the spot so attractive that, if there was no objection, they proposed to extend their stay. ‘But, of course, it is very expensive.’ ‘Never mind that,’ said the relatives, and cabled another thousand there and then.

  “Ten days later, the tutor reported by cable that his charge had unhappily died.

  “More money was cabled for the funeral and ‘to settle outstanding accounts’ and the tutor was instructed to return to England at once.

  “On his return, he, of course, reported in person. But the interview, though protracted, was unsatisfactory; and it was then, for the first time, that the relatives began to wonder whether, after all, their estimate of the tutor had been at fault. So they called their solicitors in…

  “Of course, there are people like that. At least, there were. Rich, fond, trusting – fair game for any rogue.

  “The first thing the solicitors did was to cable to Honolulu for a copy of the death certificate. This revealed that the youth had died of drink. When the tutor was confronted with the damning document, his explanation was so halting and so patently valueless that the solicitors were given a free hand. So they instructed a reliable private detective to make the very same tour. They were rather afraid that the scent, so to speak, might be cold; but as money was still no object and the furious suspicions of the relatives were mounting every day, they felt that they might as well try. They need have had no fear. Cairo, Colombo and the East had by no means forgotten the visits paid by the two gentlemen; they were, indeed, memorable. Seldom had such riotous living ever been witnessed before. It was the same thing at every port at which the liners had touched. Again and again, the two had had to be carried on to the ships. One might have been forgiven for thinking that to paint Honolulu red would present considerable difficulty. One would have been mistaken. The two had taken that formidable fence in their stride. Here a certain lady had taken them into her house. Let us say they became her guests – no doubt, though the tutor denied this, her handsomely pa
ying guests. Be that as it may, the parties she threw for them went on for days at a time. I must be careful here, so I’ll call her Margery Daw. And then the detective found himself out of his depth. Perhaps it would be better to say that he ran into fog. Fact dissolved into rumour and rumour was denied. The lady herself was not available. People found themselves unable to remember. Even the doctor was extremely vague. However, the evidence collected was very much more than enough to brand the tutor as a callous and unprincipled rogue, who had aided and abetted the youth to run his tragic course.

  “Naturally enough, the relatives demanded vengeance. But vengeance cannot be bought. Of course there was no contract and the man could not be shown to have broken the criminal law. All the facts were laid before counsel, and after a lot of thought Harker advised, I think, an action for an account. This meant that, if the action succeeded, the tutor would have to account for the moneys which he had received. It goes without saying that he was a man of straw: so the only satisfaction the relatives could obtain was that the knave would be harassed and, for what it was worth, exposed and, presently, made bankrupt. But that, they felt, was better than nothing. A fifth of a loaf was better than no bread.

  “So dim is my memory that I cannot remember what happened. I imagine that the action succeeded. I don’t think it can have failed. But I saw the tutor in court, and if looks are anything to go by, he’d paid a part of his debt. I never saw anyone so hang-dog in all my life. Guilt, shame and fear looked out of his shifty eyes. After all, he had betrayed a solemn trust, robbed his employers right and left and helped to his death the young man committed to his charge.

  “And now for the tail-piece, which I remember well.

  “About three months later I dined in Cavendish Square. Among the guests was a man who resided abroad, whom the hostess had been asked to receive by a very old friend. ‘You’ll find him very amusing.’

  “So we did. He made us all laugh very much. But I found him hard to place. As the women were leaving the table, I managed to ask my host who the stranger was. He whispered back, ‘He’s a fashionable GP – practises in Honolulu.’ When we sat down again, I found myself next to the man.”

  “I’ll bet you did,” said Berry.

  I laughed.

  “I admit I probably worked it. I can’t remember now. Be that as it may, after some general conversation, he and I were talking quietly by ourselves. Presently, ‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘have you ever heard of a lady called Margery Daw?’

  “My words might have been a spell. I can see the fellow now. He had been about to drink; and there he sat, still as death, with his glass halfway to his lips. With the tail of my eye, I watched the blood leave his face. Then he pulled himself together and set down his glass. ‘Never,’ he said, ‘What makes you think…I should have?’ ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I know she lives in Honolulu, and I thought you might know her name.’ ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’ve never heard of her.’ Then he drank up his port and wiped his face.

  “I never saw a change so sudden and so pronounced in all my life. All his assurance had left him, as if it had never been. I had shocked him – raised some spectre he’d never expected to see. Fate, in my innocent person, had tapped him upon the shoulder. And he had been unready – had never dreamed that Fate could so dog his steps.

  “As I entered the drawing-room, I saw him approach his hostess and bid her goodbye. She protested, of course, but he made some excuse or other and took his leave.

  “So I cut short a very good evening, so far as he was concerned.

  “Now what was the explanation, I have no idea. As like as not, it had nothing to do with our case. I can’t remember his name, but it was not that of the doctor who gave the death certificate. And I never pursued the matter. To tell the truth, I felt very guilty about it.”

  “Darling, it wasn’t your fault.”

  “In a way, it wasn’t. But Margery Daw was clearly a lady of ill report. And since I knew nothing of the stranger, I ought not, perhaps, to have mentioned her name as I did. I mean, I might have led up to it.”

  “I don’t blame you at all,” said Berry. “He was clearly a man of the world and you gave him every chance. He could perfectly well have replied, ‘No, I don’t think I know anybody of that name.’ You might not have believed him, but the matter would have been closed. As it was, he lost his nerve – and gave himself clean away. Did you mention the occurrence to Harker?”

  “No, indeed. I thought I’d done enough harm. By asking an idle question I’d raised some dreadful ghost, which the poor fellow thought was laid.”

  “Very curious,” said Jonah. “Whatever the trouble was, he must have been pretty deep in to take it so hard. Speculation, of course, is vain: but yours was the sort of question that someone from the Yard might have asked.”

  “That occurred to me at once. And I am inclined to believe that when I, er, spoke out of turn, he thought he was under surveillance and that he had been asked to dinner at my request. Which would account for his manifest consternation.

  “Well, there we are. I’m sorry I can’t remember more of the proceedings themselves; and I fear that, as a story, it’s rather disappointing. But the tail-piece does go to show that truth can be just as strange as fiction; and, in fact, the stage was set for a thriller that might have been worth reading, if someone had been disposed to follow the matter up.”

  8

  “I feel,” said Berry, “that a very few words on the English spoken today would not be out of place. And when I say spoken, I mean spoken publicly, particularly on the broadcast and in the House.

  “First, as regards the reading of ‘the news’.

  “I have always felt that, in view of the very high standing of ‘The BBC News’, and of the fact that it is relayed all over the world, not only should the composition of the bulletins be above reproach, but those appointed to read them should be masters of the English tongue. If this would necessitate the employment of a small, special staff, then this should be done. Such a measure would be well worth while, for in a very short time men, women and children all over the world would come to be taught to regard ‘The BBC News’, not only as reliable, but as a model of excellence – fine prose, accurate pronunciation, flawless enunciation and delivery.

  “But, although the composition of the bulletins could be improved, it is the reading of them with which I wish to deal. This is by no means what it was. Stuart Hibberd was impeccable. On all the thousands of occasions on which I listened to his golden voice, I never once heard him fail in any particular. Pronunciation, enunciation, delivery – all were always perfect. The same can by no means be said of his many successors. None enunciate their words as he did. Some make mistakes in pronunciation. I have heard ‘controversy’ pronounced with the accent on the second syllable, and ‘remonstrate’ pronounced with the accent on the first. I have heard ‘formidable’ pronounced with the accent on the second syllable. Only the uneducated made those mistakes when I was young. And pray remember that such solecisms – intolerable in polite conversation – are being received all over the world. Millions of people, who know no better, are going to accept as orthodox those vulgar parodies. I have quoted but three examples, because, to be honest, I can’t remember the others which I have heard: but, though I don’t say that such mistakes are frequent, my point is that not one should ever have occurred. (Oh, I’ve just remembered another – ‘alleging’ with the accent on the first syllable. Can anyone beat that? And yet another – ‘revolt’, with the ‘o’ pronounced not as in ‘jolt’, but as in ‘jolly’.) The enunciation, again, leaves much to be desired, while the impression that the announcer is speaking against time is painfully insistent – an impression which is not only very trying to the ear, but, quite honestly, indefensible. In a word, if an item of news is deemed worthy to be communicated to the world, then let it be presented with dignity.

  “Secondly, as regards public speech.

  “It is too much to expect that the admirable English o
nce spoken in Parliament should distinguish the House of Commons today. And, of course, I can say nothing of the delivery of the speeches made – though I have an uneasy feeling that Winston stands alone. But one grammatical fault, I can expose. It is often to be heard on the floor of the House and in speeches made elsewhere by eminent men.

  “This is, shortly, the use of ‘will’, where ‘shall’ should be used, and of ‘would’, where ‘should’ should be used. I am not going to set out the reasons why the one is right and the other wrong, because, in the first place, I couldn’t do it, and, in the second, Fowler has done it for all time: but this I can say – that if I had made such a mistake at my private school, I should have been immediately corrected. To my mind, it is a matter of instinct.” He looked at Daphne and Jill. “I’m quite sure that neither of you two sweethearts could begin to defend your particular use of these words; but never in all my life have I heard either of you go wrong. In the old days, it was a recognized peculiarity of a Scotsman that he would sometimes say ‘will’ or ‘would’ where we should say ‘shall’ or ‘should’: and this peculiarity was regarded with interest and amusement. But now the solecism – for that is what it is – is committed by Englishmen of standing every day.

  “You may say that it doesn’t matter. But English is admittedly the very finest language in all the world, and that is, to my mind, a heritage worth having. It would be too much to expect all those who use it to respect it as we do. After all, aliens scrawl their names on the stones of Westminster Abbey and The Tower. But it ill becomes our own stock to deface the English tongue.”

  Unbidden, I rose, fetched the decanter and replenished Berry’s glass. Then I drank to him, and Jonah did too. And Berry drank to us. There was no need of words. Neither scholar nor pedant, my brother-in-law had hit the nail square on the head. It ill becomes our own stock to deface the English tongue.

  “And now,” said Berry, “the Queen’s Bench of today and yesterday.”