Ups and downs

**

Madame Melba and Signor Caruso.**

The largest attendances were at the dinners given in honour of Madame Melba and Signor Caruso. There was some really good music at Madame Melba’s dinner, and I asked her which of the items she liked best. She replied, “Mr. Kearney’s comic song.” He was for many years until his lamented death a constant attendant at the club dinners. If he had become a music-hall vocalist instead of devoting hiniself to legal matters, he would have made a fortune.

Signor Caruso is a good caricaturist, and often caricatures himself. On the night he dined with the club he made a caricature of me, which he presented to me at the dinner. On the next morning he sent me a larger edition of the caricature, which I have put into a frame and hung up in my billiard room. He also sent a caricature of me to “La Folia,” an Italian paper published in New York.

I quote from the “Daily Express” of the 19th August, 1909, the remarks which I made in proposing the health of Signor Caruso:-

“The next toast proposed was that of the health of Signor Caruso, which was submitted by the Chairman, who was received with applause. He said he need not tell that company that when they heard that someone had achieved a worldwide celebrity they should not jump to the conclusion that he was a philosopher or a scientist, a historian, or even a statesman; it was far more likely that he or she would he a poet or a novelist, but most likely of all a vocalist. (Applause.)

“That night the Corinthian Club and their guests enjoyed the company of one whose name was a household word in every civilised part of two hemispheres

• he referred to Signor Caruso. (Applause.) There was a poetic as well as a corporeal side to life to which the senses administered. The sense recognising sounds was used for both purposes, they employed it in their corporeal life; hut there were sounds which profoundly affected their poetic life, and these constituted music.

“There were persons who were colour-blind, so also there were persons insensible to music altogether or in a minor degree. He had met with persons who could not discriminate between God Save the King’ and ‘St. Patrick’s Day.’ (Laughter.) He pitied these defectively organised people. But the vast majority of mankind loved music, and the more they cultivated their faculty of appreciating it the greater was the pleasure derived from it.

“The lovers of music were deeply indebted to Italy, Signor Caruso’s country. The invention of recitative music by the Florentine Academy in the 16th century originated opera, oratoria, and the various forms of aria. The Italian composers had excelled all others in the melody of their compositions.

“Immortal names of Italians crowded the annals of musical composition. Those of di Lasso, Monteverde, Carissemi, Palestrina, Cherubini, Rossini, Donizetti, and Verdi - who, when nearly 90 years old, composed ‘Falstaff’ - by no means exhausted the list of great Italian composers.

“Then, what great singers had not Italy produced! Think of Catalini, Grisi, Trebelli, Rubini, Guigleni, and Mario. (Applause.) That night they had with them one who has not been surpassed - perhaps not even equalled - by any of the greatest vocalists of former days. (Applause.) He had delighted millions of people in many lands. He was not only a great vocalist, but being animated with no small spark of the Promethean fire, his dramatic powers almost rivalled his wonderful musical genius.

“He was so much interested by a description of Signor Caruso by an eminent critic, that he copied it, viz.: ‘Unspoiled by success such as does not come to one singer in a thousand, unaffected, good natured, generous, debonair, an excellent man of business, a warm-hearted friend, a light-hearted companion - that is how one could best describe Enrico Caruso.’ (Applause.)

“Now, from his intimate acquaintance with Signor Caruso, which commenced about two hours previously, he could fully endorse the eulogium of that eminent critic. (Laughter.) In conclusion, he could not avoid congratulating Signor Caruso in having associated with him on his present tour such distinguished artistes as Madame Rio, Miss Saxe, Signor Lecompte, and a conductor so celebrated as Signor Vaghera. (Applause.) He asked all present to join heartily with him in drinking long life and continued prosperity to Signor Caruso. (Applause,)” **

Mr. Winston Churchill at the Corinthian Club.**

Some time before Mr. Winston Churchill became a Minister of the Crown he dined with the Corinthian Club. During the dinner he said to me, “I believe you intend to propose my health?” “Of course I do,” I replied. “You’re our principal guest.” “What are you going to say about me?” he queried. “I don’t know yet,” I replied. “Have you not prepared what you intend to say about me?” he asked, smiling very pleasantly. I replied that I did not prepare speeches-that I trusted to the inspiration of the moment. He said that he made some preparation for his speeches in and out of Parliament.

I proposed his health in due course, taking to some extent the liberty allowable in such a club as the Corinthian. In replying, he said-”The President tells me that he does not prepare his speeches, but perhaps he belongs to the category of which we find examples in the House of Commons, who do not know what they are going to say before they stand up, who do not know what they are saying when they do stand up, and forget what they said when they sit down.” This produced great laughter, and when it had subsided, Mr. Churchill said something to the effect that although I might not remember what I had said, those present would. There was again great applause.

After Mr. Churchill became head of the Board of Trade, I wrote to him recommending a man who had been in the Transvaal Police, for a situation in the service of the Labour Bureau. I expected to receive a reply from his secretary, instead of which I was surprised to get a nice letter in his own handwriting. I felt much honoured by so kind an action.

Mr. Winston Churchill possesses considerable ability, and in his account of his travels in East and Central Africa he has shown great descriptive powers.

From Mr. Churchill’s grandfather, the Duke of Marlborough, whilst Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, I received much kindness. He was an enthusiastic fisherman, and on more than one occasion I received a fine salmon that he gaffed in the Blackwater. I spent a short time at the huge palace of Blenheim, and admired its beautiful collection of paintings. The palace was so large that only a part of it was occupied. **

Speeches at the Corinthian Club.**

I may safely say that during the 15 years’ existence of the Corinthian Club, there have been more speeches made at the luncheons and dinners than, if put into print, would fill a large quarto volume. Amongst the most humorous of them were those delivered by one of the Vice-Presidents, the Right Hon. Mr. Justice Ross. It is to be regretted that many of the speeches, which were well deserving of verbatim reports in the newspapers, had only brief abstracts given of them.

This was owing to the limited space which can only be usually given to accounts of festive gatherings. As an example of, first, an abstract of a Corinthian speech, and, secondly, a verbatim report of another one, I give the following from the “Daily Express” of 24th January, 1904 **

Abstract Report.**

“The President proposed ‘The Health of Mr. Winston Churchill’ in a witty speech. In doing so, he regretted that he was not in proper form, as he had been confined to bed for the last fortnight with influenza and bronchitis. The Club brought together citizens of Dublin of every shade of politics and religious belief, and they had no censorship as to their members except that they must be very good, pleasant, and agreeable fellows.

“They had another rule which he thought would be sufficient to keep the Club in existence and to win for it the support of the citizens. That rule was that no distinguished person of any nationality could come to Dublin whom it would be desirable to entertain in a semi-public manner that the Club was not always willing and ready to entertain at the shortest notice. (Applause.) That was a rule which he (the President) said with emphasis ought to be commended, and which he was sure was appreciated even by those who were not members.

“They had from time to time the honour and the privilege of entertaining at their humble board very distinguished persons, and that evening were honoured by having as their guest a gentleman whose name was well known in the English-speaking world, and perhaps through the Dutch-speaking world, too. (Laughter and applause.)

“Mr. Churchill was the representative of a family of ancient and honourable lineage, and although they had in that club persons of all kinds of lineage - (laughter) - they were always glad to welcome one of the ‘rale ould stock.’ (Applause.) Having referred to Mr. Churchill’s ancestor, the famous general, and to the popularity of his grandfather, the Duke of Marlborough, who had been Viceroy of Ireland, he went on to refer to Mr. Churchill’s career as a soldier, a war correspondent, and politician, and to his adventures in India, China, and South Africa.

“The Corinthians did not care what Mr. Churchill’s politics were - they were glad to see a good fellow amongst them. (Applause.) When he heard that Mr. Churchill was coming to Dublin, they thought they might drop a line to Mr. Chamberlain to meet him, but Mr. Chamberlain regretted that an engagement for a debate prevented him accepting the invitation. (Laughter.) They would have been very glad if Mr. Chamberlain had come, but as he had not, Mr. Churchill had the whole place to himself, and could say what he liked without fear of being contradicted. (Laughter and applause.) The toast was honoured with enthusiasm.”

Verbatim Report.

Mr. Churchill, who was received with applause, said- “I was very anxious to get a little opportunity to prepare those impromptus to which Sir Charles Cameron has alluded, and I asked him at the beginning of the dinner if he would very kindly tell me what he was going to say. He told me he did not know what he was going to say, so I concluded he is among that style of orators who used to be familiar in the House of Commons, of whom it was said, ‘before they get up they do not know what they are going to say, while they are speaking they do not know what they are saying, and when they have sat down they do not know what they have said.’ (Laughter.)

“I do not know whether Sir Charles is anxious to figure in that category. I do not know if he remembers now what he has been saying, but certain I am of this, that we remember it. I confess I think it no little test to expose an unwilling guest in compelling him to respond to a toast which has just been proposed by such a past master of after-dinner speaking as your President.

“I regard it as a very great honour to have been allowed to come here to-night, and I think it very kind of you to have asked me during my short visit to Dublin. I have not a great many friends in Ireland, but I have a few inherited friends.

“Some I have inherited from my grandfather, to whom Sir Charles Cameron has made a very complimentary allusion, and some I have inherited from my father. (Hear, hear.) That is my estate in Ireland, and I can assure you I do not mean to sell it under the Land Act. (Laughter.) I shall certainly not take 25 years’ purchase for it. (Laughter.)

“I do not mean to neglect it; I mean to work it up, and certainly, so far as that estate is concerned, I shall not be an absentee landlord. (Hear, hear.) Perhaps I have even been able upon this visit, sitting as I am next to Sir Charles Cameron, to add a little outlying plot to my inherited estate. Sir Charles Cameron has alluded to the fact that I have been a war correspondent, and he seems to think it a great advantage to a war correspondent to have been a soldier who had learned to ride a horse. (Laughter.)

“Well, the duties of a war correspondent are various and complicated. Sometimes he gives a general a dinner; sometimes he tells a general what to do; sometimes he tells the public what a general ought to have done, and sometimes he tells the public what a general has done and sometimes he does not. (Laughter.)

“But whatever information a war correspondent sends home, he collects the information on the field, and whatever he sends home is published by the newspapers, a penny plain, a ha’penny coloured. (Laughter.) Of course, it is quite true that this interesting profession is not without its danger. I think there were a great number of war correspondents in the South African War who lost their lives, who were wounded, who lost their limbs, or, for a more or less protracted period, lost their liberty. Some of them succeeded in recovering their liberty. (Laughter.)

“Three years ago I had the good fortune to come to Dublin to give a lecture on the subject of the South African War, and my experiences and adventures there. That great contest in which we were then engaged is now passed out of life into history, and a good deal of very mixed history has been written concerning it.

“The war is over, but the difficulties in that country continue. I trust most earnestly that just because the war is over, the attention of the British and Irish people will not be altogether diverted from South Africa, because I am convinced that when we in these islands lose interest in what is going on in South Africa, very likely many things will be done there of which our sense would not altogether approve. (Hear, hear.)

“The war is over, but we have not exactly got peace. There is peace in Africa, but there is a little temporary disturbance existing in England. (Laughter.) I find that the subject on which I have come to speak in Dublin this year is almost as controversial a subject as was the South African War. It is a very dull subject, but dull and dry though it be, it seems to excite the most furious passion.

“I confess I feel very unequal to the task which I have been invited to perform. I feel as St. Patrick must have felt when he landed to convert the Irish nation. I am told that the general opinion in this country is almost entirely against the view of economics which was usual six months ago, and I only hope that I may have, if not the good fortune St. Patrick had, at any rate some proportion of that good fortune in driving out of Ireland the fiscal frogs and tariff toads. (Laughter, and ‘Hear, hear.’)

“I am very grateful to you for your kindness in allowing me to come here to-night and for the very friendly manner in which you have drunk my health. I am an excommunicated politician. (Laughter.) My constituency has no confidence in me - they have said so several times, and they appear to derive the greatest satisfaction from repeating it; but a much more serious reverse has happened to me. Parliament is shortly to meet. The Tariff Commission was opened last week by Mr. Chamberlain, and Parliament is to be opened next week by the King. (Laughter.)

“I have had no invitation to attend the Tariff Commission, and I have had no invitation to attend the Imperial Parliament. The customary letter which the Prime Minister sends to his supporters has on this occasion not been sent to one of his supporters. That is very sad, because I should greatly regret if I missed the opening of the Parliamentary Session, because I have several things I want very much to say.

“So I hope if any of you should happen to see the date in the papers, and I should happen to forget, kindly write and let me know - (1aughter) - so that I may find my way there all the same. Now, gentlemen, you have certainly shown me a preference to-night, but it is not the sort of preference one would get under Protection.

“I have certainly had something better to drink than Australian champagne, and I have not been invited to smoke the British North Borneo cigar, nor have I been offered snuff made out of Irish tobacco. (‘Oh!’) I have been entertained in such a manner as leads me to believe that, concealed here and there amongst the audience I see before me, are a considerable number of the members of the Free Food League. (‘No, no,’ and laughter.)

“At any rate I can assure you I am very grateful for the kindness and hospitality you have extended to me, and I shall carry away the most pleasant recollections of the Corinthian Club. (Applause.)” **

Three Agreeable Surprises**

One evening in May, 1885, I received a note from Earl Spencer, asking me to call upon him should I be in the neighbourhood of the Viceregal Lodge on the following morning about 11 o’clock.

About the time I received this note I had been commissioned by the Board of Works to investigate the sanitary conditions of the Castle and Viceregal Lodge. I concluded, therefore, that it was in reference to some point in the sanitation of the Viceregal Lodge that His Excellency desired an interview with me.

I called next morning, and was received by the private secretary. After a brief conversation, I said that I had called at the request of His Excellency. He said that he had heard nothing about my visit, but would inform His Excellency of my arrival, and in a few minutes I was in his presence.

After some conversation on things in general, His Excellency said that the Prince of Wales and Sir Charles Dilke had referred to me in favourable terms as regards my efforts to have the dwellings of the working classes improved, also that he was personally aware of my work, and so on.

At length he said that he believed me deserving of some honour, and thought that knighthood might be an acceptable one. After the usual self-depreciation on occasions of the kind, I thankfully accepted His Excellency’s offer. “Then,” said he, “will you wait until there is a levee, or would you like to go to Windsor to receive it from the Queen, or would you prefer to have it now?”

I replied, “As Your Excellency is so kind, I might as well have it now.” His Excellency smiled, called in an A.D.C., who presented his sword to him. I knelt, was tapped on each shoulder with the sword, and rose “Sir Charles Cameron.” Until I had conversed with him, it did not occur to me that it was the Queen’s birthday, but even if it had, it would not have suggested to me that he might intend to knight me. The honour came as an absolute surprise.

A few days after this event I received a letter from Sir Bernard Burke, Ulster King-at-Arms, requesting me to send him a cheque for £16. I called on him with the cheque, and said that I thought the fees were about a hundred pounds. He informed me that such was the case until lately, and that I was the first knight to pay the reduced fee. At present there is no fee paid on receiving knighthood.

On the 27th December, 1898, I received another agreeable surprise in the receipt of a letter, of which the following is a copy:-

(Private.) “Foreign Office, 26th December, 1898.

My Dear Sir,

On the recommendation of the Lord Lieutenant, I have had the honour to submit to the Queen that you should be appointed a Companion of the Bath on the occasion of the approaching New Year, in recognition of your long services in the very important posts which you occupy.

It affords me great pleasure to be authorized to inform you that Her Majesty has received my submission very graciously.

Believe me,

Yours very faithfully,

SALISBURY.

Sir Charles A. Cameron, M.D.”

The letter was altogether in the handwriting of the Marquis.

I had not the slightest inkling of the intended honour, which came to me as a great surprise, especially as at the time the Order was confined to the public services, with only two or three exceptions, one being that of the Duke of Abercorn.

I had always received much kindness from Lord Cadogan, and I often wondered why he had enquired about the work I did. I think he had learned that I had performed some useful work as a member of the Army Sanitary Committee, especially by my report on the unsanitary state of the Royal Barracks, for which I had received the thanks of the Secretary at War. I shall always gratefully remember the kindness shown to me by Lord Cadogan.

My third great surprise occurred in 1911.

For the third time the Royal Institute of Public Health held a congress in Dublin. The event occurred in 1911. The congress was ably presided over by Her Excellency the Countess of Aberdeen, and was very successful.

At the closing general meeting of the congress, Her Excellency beckoned to me to approach her where she was seated with a table in front of her. I advanced to the table, whereupon the Countess presented to me a beautiful silver gilt antique cup. I was completely taken by surprise, as the intention to present it had been successfully kept secret. In thanking Her Excellency and the donors of the cup, I said, pointing to the blue velvet dress which she wore, that the present came to me as ”a bolt from the blue” - it was totally unexpected. The cup had been provided by the Recorder of Dublin (now the Right Honourable), Thomas Lopdel O’Shaughnessy, K.C., Alderman M’Walter, M.D., B.L., and Dr. Maginnes, who were my principal colleagues in organising the congress. Later in the day, at a garden party in the Zoological Gardens, Phoenix Park, the present was used as a ‘loving cup,” and was repeatedly filled for that purpose with champagne.

Her Excellency took a great interest in the congress, and helped it in many ways.

Ireland is much indebted to Lord and Lady Aberdeen for all their good works to improve the health of the people and advance their well-being.

Amongst the beneficent institutions which from time to time have been established in Ireland, the Women’s National Health Association must be assigned the highest place. It has been founded by Lady Aberdeen, who has worked with amazing energy in carrying out its numerous beneficent objects.

On the 18th January, 1899, I received the following letter:-

“69 St. George’s Road,

Warwick Square, S.W.,

17th January, 1899.

Sir,

I am commanded by His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, Grand Master of the Order of the Bath, to request -your attendance, in levee dress, at Osborne, on Monday, the 30th inst., at 3 o’clock, for the purpose of your receiving from the Sovereign of the Order of the Bath the insignia of a Companion of that most honourable Order.

I have the honour to be, Sir, Your obedient Servant

ALBERT W. WOOD,

Registrar and Garter Secretary of the Order.

N.B.-An answer is requested.

Sir Charles A. Cameron, C.B., M.D., etc. etc.”

The weather was very cold when, in levee dress, but covered by an outside coat, I went with many others on the 30th January, 1899, to Portsmouth. As our train was special, we made a rapid journey to the headquarters of the Royal Navy. A Royal steam launch quickly brought us to the Isle of Wight. Royal carriages were in waiting for us, and we drove in them to Osborne. Here we were received by the Lord Chamberlain, and were conducted to a large apartment, in which we remained chatting for about a quarter of an hour. Looking out of a window, I saw the Queen driving up to the house in a little carriage drawn by that humble, patient quadruped, the donkey.

Soon after, we were summoned one by one into Her Majesty’s presence. I was conducted to a room next that in which the Queen was seated on an ordinary chair. On entering her room I bowed very low, then advanced a few paces and again made an obeisance; another advance brought me close to Her Majesty, and after a third bow I knelt down close to her.

An official handed her the decoration, a large gold one, which she essayed to attach to my coat, but fumbled somewhat, as her sight had begun to fail. I assisted her to affix the decoration; she smiled pleasantly but said nothing. Then I stood up, retired backwards, and bowing three times, made my exit by a door other than the one by which I had entered.

An official, who had accompanied me, removed the decoration, placed it in a case, and handed it to me. I discovered subsequently that the cost of the decoration was £15, which was paid out of Her Majesty’s funds.

The Duke of Edinburgh stood immediately behind the Queen, at her right hand. There were many officials and ladies present.

We all reassembled in the large apartment termed, I think, the Durbar Room, in which luncheon was served. The Duke of Edinburgh and most of the ladies who were with the Queen were present. There was a plan of the table showing where each person was to sit. The luncheon was quite like a State dinner, and the champagne was excellent We returned by carriage and steam yacht to Portsmouth, the Duke I being one of the party. Whilst steaming to Portsmouth, tea, coffee, mineral waters, and whisky were dispensed freely. It was dark when I reached London, and I was glad when I got into my warm everyday clothes.

The following April the Queen, after an absence of 40 years, paid a three weeks’ visit to Dublin. I met her personal physician, Sir James Reid. Bart., G.C.V.O., K.C.B., at a dinner party. I said to him, *“Who *persuaded the Queen to visit Ireland, now that she has become infirm and has been so long absent from it.”

He replied that it was her own desire to come, because she had been so very much affected by the accounts of the bravery of the Dublin Fusiliers in the Boer War. **

The Royal Family of Connaught.**

The first time I saw His Royal Highness the Duke of Connaught was when he was Colonel in Command of the Rifle Brigade and stationed in the Royal Barracks. At that time the malodorous emanations from the River Liffey were the subject of much comment, and the Queen exhibited anxiety in reference to the Duke’s health being jeopardised by his residence near the river or by any insanitary condition of the barracks.

I received a letter from Sir William Jenner, Bart., K.C.B., the Queen’s Physician-in-Ordinary, requesting me to make a report on the quarters to be occupied by the Duke for submission to Her Majesty, which I accordingly did, and for the first and last time received a fee out of her Privy Purse.

The Duke would not allow any difference to be made in the equipment of his apartments on account of his high rank. It was to be exactly that which would be provided for any officer of the same military rank.

In January, 1899, the Duke of Connaught arrived in Dublin and took up his quarters in the Royal Hospital, in succession to Lord Roberts, as Commander of the Forces. The Duke is the Grand Master of the Masonic Knights Templar in Ireland, and I am his deputy. I soon waited upon His Royal Highness. In order to get to his official room I had to pass through two others, in each of. which there were officers.

On reaching the third room, I was received most kindly by the Duke, and when I was retiring he accompanied me to the first of the suite of three apartments. What a contrast was this reception to that so often accorded to visitors by the *nouveau riche! *During the three years that the Duke remained in Dublin I was frequently a guest at the Royal Hospital. The Duchess was very affable, and appeared to enjoy some of my anecdotes. Lady Fitzgerald Arnott told me that the Duchess had said to her that I was the most amusing man she had met in Ireland.

One day. speaking to Sir Arthur Vickers, Ulster King-at-Arms, I happened to mention that I had dined the night before at the Royal Hospital. “Who took the Duchess in?” he queried. “I did,” I replied. He was quite shocked when on further enquiry he learned that there was a nobleman, the Attorney-General (Mr. James Campbell, M.P.), and others higher in rank present. When the Duchess retired, the Duke came and occupied the vacant chair, and sat between the Attorney-General and myself. The Attorney-General was in excellent form, and told some funny anecdotes.

About a year after the Duke of Connaught had left Ireland, he presided at a dinner of the Colonial Institute in the Hotel Metropole. About 400 were present, of whom a large proportion were Grand Crosses, Knight Commanders and Companions of the Order of St. Michael and St. George, of which the Duke is Grand Master.

I was the guest of Mr. Bruce Joy, the eminent sculptor, and was seated beside him and at a considerable distance from the place where the Duke was to sit. On his arrival we all stood up, and the Duke, casting a hasty glance round, recognised me, to my great surprise. In leaving the hotel I encountered the Duke in the hall, and he had some minutes’ conversation with me. I said, “I was astonished, sir, at your recognising me in such a crowd and at such a distance.” The Duke replied that “a soldier must have a keen vision.”

I then asked might I present my host to him, and he said “Certainly.” Mr. Bruce Joy approached, and the Duke referred in complimentary terms to his works. When the Duke left, I said to my host, “Now, did not the introduction repay the 30 shillings which, I suppose, you paid for my dinner?” “Yes,” he said, “far more than repay. ”

It is no wonder that the fluke is so much beloved both in and out of the Army, and we need not be surprised that he has captivated the Canadian people, and has been enthusiastically received in a brief visit to the United States. **

My Four Escapes From Death.**

On four occasions I had narrow escapes from the “King of Terrors.” When I was about three years old, I got up one morning, and, whilst still in my nightdress, approached the kitchen fire. Being always of an enquiring turn of mind, I looked up the chimney to see what was there, and whilst so engaged my flimsy night garment caught fire. I hurried to my parents’ bedroom, beating down the flame with my hands.

My mother was severely burned in her endeavour to get the remains of my nightdress off me, but my father, by rapidly enveloping me in a blanket, extinguished the flame. Wrapped in cotton wadding, I was for several weeks confined to bed, always lying upon my back, which had escaped injury. I have still some marks on my body to remind me of this escape from death.

My father had a habit of taking a pinch of snuff before commencing to write a letter or to do almost anything - even before answering a question. My mother often asserted that he helped himself to a big pinch of snuff before he wrapped me in a blanket. Perhaps my mother meant her assertion to be taken *cum grano salis, *for my father always denied the accusation.

My second escape from death occurred when I was about eight years old. I fell into a mill-race, and was rescued when I was unconscious. It was with difficulty that consciousness was restored.

My second escape from drowning and third from loss of life occurred in Guernsey. One evening I was out on the rocks near the sea coast collecting limpets, the Guernsey name for barnacles. The tide was coming in, and I was so absorbed in my occupation that I did not notice for some time that I was cut off from the land by a considerable expanse of water. I could not then swim, and I soon found that I was getting into deep water. With difficulty I got to the summit of a rock, and began to shout and wave my handkerchief. It was nearly dark, and the water was up to my waist, when I was rescued, my signal having at last attracted the attention of some men in a boat.

My fourth, and last, escape from death was due to my wearing a tall hat. On Friday, the 10th June, 1910, I went to the funeral of the late Dr. John Barton, Secretary to the Council of the Royal College of Surgeons. The place of interment was Whitechurch, close to the Dublin mountains.

On my return to Dublin I did not again that day use my brougham, but went to the Viceregal Lodge on an outside car. There had been a case of diphtheria there, and I was anxious to see that proper disinfection had been carried out.

On my return, when nearly at the top of Parliament Street, I was on the point of directing the driver to stop, and had turned round on the seat to take up my umbrella, when the horse fell, and I was thrown off. Had the horse fallen a few seconds earlier I would have escaped, as I always held on to a strap or some part of a car when in motion. When I was lifted up and brought into Mr. John Cowle’s shop, 4 Parliament Street, I was perfectly conscious, but unable to speak. It was not until some time after the Corporation ambulance arrived that I was able to say that I wished to be brought home and not to a hospital.

On arriving at my home I was gently carried up to my bedroom by the ambulance men, and in a few minutes afterwards Sir Lambert Ormsby and Mr. William Taylor arrived, and took me into surgical charge. My injuries were found to be the fracture of my collar bone and three ribs, a scalp wound, a wound in the right arm, and severe wrenches to the right arm and right leg. Subsequently, owing to shock, my stomach, heart, and lungs went seriously out of order.

It is clear that if I had not retained the tall, stiff hat, my skull would have been fractured. It has often happened in the hunting field, that the tall hat of the huntsman saved his skull from fracture when he was thrown off his horse. My hat was knocked off with such violence that it inflicted a deep scalp wound.

My good friend Sir John William Moore’s medical assistance was invoked when my internal organs became affected. I shall never forget the obligations I owe to my three kind friends, who, for several weeks, visited me thrice daily. I understand that at one time their hopes for my recovery were faint. I was, however, quite determined to get well, and kept up my spirits all through my illness, and often took a humorous view of it.

Many a patient dies merely because lie thinks lie will have to “shuffle oft this mortal coil.” When my kind medical friends informed me that two nurses would have to tend me, I said “All right, but they must be athletic nurses, as I am so helpless.” When the first nurse arrived I said to her, “Are you athletic?” “I am,” she said. “I am 14 stones weight, and look at my arm!” She then exhibited an arm that Sandow might be proud of.

The morning after the night nurse arrived, a servant enquired what answer was she to give to the people who were enquiring about me. I said, “Tell all enquiring friends that nurse and patient had a good night.” The nurse first blushed, and then, realising the kind of patient she had, laughed.

I desire to record how kind, skilful, and attentive were my two nurses, Miss Loverock and Miss Cunningham. The latter has since emigrated to Alberta, Canada.

This accident laid me up for several months, and some slight effects of it remain.

At the first dinner of the Corinthian Club at which I was present after the accident, the Right Honorable James II. Campbell, K.C., M.P., in responding to the toast of the guests, referred to it. He said that whilst being carried by the ambulance men, I said, in nearly inarticulate accents, “Gentlemen, charge your glasses!” Of course, loud laughter followed.

Some days later, being in Mr. Cowle’s shop, into which I had been carried after the accident, I mentioned Mr. Campbell’s joke. “Well,” he said, “that is not what you said.” “I do not recollect saying anything,” I interpolated, ”except to say ‘Bring me home.’ ”Oh, yes, you did; you said to the ambulance men, ‘Boys, aren’t we having a grand procession?’ ” The shop and the street were crowded.

My accident appears to have been the cause, I know not how, of a curious change in the colour of my hair. On the day of the accident my whiskers and moustache were grey, as was also most of the hair on each side of my head. During my illness the greyness increased, but when my convalescence was established, and for some time after, my hair gradually became darker, until it assumed about the same colour it had 10 years before. It still remains dark. I did not like this change, as I feared that people might believe that I had resorted to hair dyes.

I made a research in my medical works to ascertain if a similar change of colour in hair in advanced age was on record, And I found that there was. In the “Dublin Journal of Medical Science” for 1847, that eminent physician, the late Dr. Graves, recorded several cases.

Sir John W. Moore and Nurse Loverock told me of another and most extraordinary instance. It was that of the late Dr. Ellis, who died in Leeson Street three years ago, aged 100 years. His hair was grey at 93, when it began to revert to its original brown colour, and remained so until his death. As Nurse Loverock attended to him in his last illness, she was able to assure herself that he did not use hair dyes.

I have often asked medical men their opinion as to the cause of the change of colour in my hair, without getting any satisfactory explanation. I have hazarded the following hypothesis as to the cause:- I attained to my maximum weight, 12 stone 12 lbs. in my clothes, at 40 years of age, at which it remained until about 12 years ago. It then began to decline - never temporarily increasing - until at the time of the accident it had fallen to 11 stone 5 lbs. During my convalescence I weighed myself, and found that I had lost exactly one stone. When next I weighed myself I found that I had increased from 10 stone 5 lbs. to 10 stone 12 lbs. It was whilst this increase in weight was going on that my hair became dark. For the first time for many years the gain of tissue exceeded its expenditure. There was, I might say, a general biological revival in which my hair pods particvipated and produced more colouring matter. **

Medical, Sanitary, and Scientific Congresses.**

I have been present at a great many congresses of scientists, medical men, and sanitarians, and have pleasurable recollections of them. I have attended three of the four meetings of the British Association held in Dublin, and my first scientific paper was read at the second one, in 1557.

In 1886, when I was President of the Royal College of Surgeons, I attended a meeting of the Association in Aberdeen. A small number of the members, including myself, were invited to visit the Queen’s Highland residence, Balmoral. We had an excellent luncheon, at which the Queen was not present. It was explained to us that she had arranged to take a drive, and to pass us on our way back to Aberdeen-I suppose to have a look at the scientists. It was strictly enjoined that no cheering or other demonstration was to take place.

On our way to Aberdeen the Queen’s carriage passed us very slowly. We were in char-a-bancs, the one in which I was seated containing many companions, chiefly from Ireland. The occupants of the other vehicles allowed the Queen to pass them without making any demonstration in here honour.

I said to my companions that I could not conceive why the Queen would not like to hear a hearty cheer. I set one going, and was followed by all my companions. Lord Playfair told me afterwards that the Queen was pleased at the demonstration, especially when she learned that it was mainly from her Irish subjects.

I am one of the founders of the Royal Institute of Public Health, and was President of it for four years. It was at first a society of medical men possessing public health diplomas, but subsequently its original title was twice altered, and is now “The Royal Institute of Public Health.” I presided at all its dinners from its foundation up to and including 1892. Many of them were on a large scale, and with two exceptions, were held in the Holborn Restaurant. Many distinguished foreigners were present at those banquets.

In 1892 the Institute had their annual dinner in Dublin, and it occurred to me that at the same time a small congress might be held. This was the first of a series of annual Sanitary Congresses, the last of which was held in 1912 in Berlin. Professor j. W. Smith, one of the founders of the Institute, has devoted much of his time to its interests, and the high position to which it has attained is almost wholly due to him.

In 1898 the Institute held a congress in Dublin, at which I presided, as stated in another place. For the second time the “London Times” devoted to my presidential address a long leading article, in which it was stated that a “full summary” of my address was in the paper.

The congress of 1898 was a very successful one, and was the only one in connection with which a sanitary exhibition was held. Mr. (now Sir Thomas) Pile was High Sheriff of Dublin in that year. In that capacity it was not incumbent on him to give any entertainment to the congress, hut knowing his generous disposition I suggested that he might like to show hospitality to some of the members of the congress. He at once expressed his intention to entertain all the congress at luncheon. It resembled a banquet, as more than 600 persons were present; and several hundred ladies who came to hear the speeches were regaled with pineapples, grapes, and champagne. The luncheon was held in the great hall of the Royal University. The Lord Lieutenant, the Lord Chancellor, and many other eminent persons were present. I often hear references to this splendid luncheon when attending similar congresses.

Signor Marconi gave a demonstration of wireless telegraphy in the theatre of the Royal Dublin Society. The Lord Mayor proposed a vote of thanks to him, but by a slip of the tongue referred to the lecturer as Signor “Macaroni.” Loud laughter followed, which was not joined in by the Lord Mayor, who had not intended to make a joke.

The Irish have some claim on the Signor, as his mother *(nee *Jameson) is Irish, and he is married to an Irish woman, a daughter of Lord Inchequin.

On the occasion of this congress, the Honorary Fellowship of the Royal College of Physicians was conferred upon me by a unanimous vote of the Fellows. There are three grades in this College-Licentiates, Members, and Fellows. I possessed the diplomas of the two lower grades. A Fellow of the College of Physicians cannot be a Fellow of the College of Surgeons, but he may be a Member of the latter. The College of Physicians, on getting legal opinion, found that although they could not elect me as a Fellow, they could as an Honorary Fellow.

In England a man can be a Fellow of both Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons. The Fellows of the Royal College of Physicians are elected. The Fellows of the College of Surgeons are admitted after passing a satisfactory examination. The Members and Licentiates of the College of Physicians are admitted by examination.

Iii September, 1893, I presided at the Portsmouth Congress of the Royal Sanitary Institute. My address was given in extension in the “London Times,” and that paper and all the London morning papers had leading articles on it.

I much enjoyed a meeting of the British Medical Association, in Bristol, in August, 1894. I received much private hospitality. I was entertained by that ancient institution, the Merchants’ Venture Company. At their festivities a peculiar feature is the dispensation of ” Bristol milk,” which is really sherry. A huge vat of sherry is kept full by additions to it equal to quantities abstracted. A minute part of a glass of this sherry is therefore of great antiquity.

At this congress I gave one of the three addresses, namely, that on “Public Health.” The “Lancet” published it *in extenso, *and devoted its principal leading article to it.

At the usual banquet the pleasing duty of proposing the toast of the President was entrusted to me.

I was requested to distribute the prizes won by the boys in the Bristol Grammar School. The function took place in the largest schoolroom I have ever been in. There was a large number of prize-winners; one of them got a first prize in nearly every subject of the examination, and acquired quite a small library of handsomely-hound books.

The first boy who came up to me looked as if he had seen a ghost-he had quite a frightened expression. I shook hands with him, and said something which made him smile; his scared look then vanished. I enquired from the Head Master why the boy looked so frightened as he approached me, and he said that a bishop had on the last occasion distributed the prizes, and had such a severe look that the boys were almost afraid to approach him. When they saw that I shook hands with the first prize-winner who came to me, their apprehension of a replica of the prelate was dispelled. **

Poteen**

The question, “What is whiskey?” came before the police courts in London about three years ago. There are two kinds of alcoholic beverages, known as pot still whiskey and patent still whiskey. The pot still whiskey requires some years to mature before it is fit for use. It is asserted that on the contrary the patent still whiskey does not undergo much improvement by storage. It was maintained by several chemists and experts that it could not be properly termed “whiskey.” It is, nevertheless, largely used in mixing (“blending”) with pot still whiskey.

One of the experts examined by a commission appointed to investigate the subject was the distinguished chemist, Sir James Dewar, F.R.S., who has made most important discoveries in the domains of physics and chemistry. He was asked had he ever tasted poteen (illicitly prepared whiskey). He replied that once, when staying with his friend, Sir Charles Cameron, he had taken some of it, and had never forgotten the circumstance.

I can concur with Sir James’ unpleasant remembrance of poteen. The article he referred to was a present sent to me from a friend in the West of Ireland. Of course, I should not have accepted it, as no duty had been paid upon it. I considered it a very nasty liquor.

One very cold, wet night I came home in a cab. I asked the driver would he like a little whiskey, as the night was so cold. He replied in the affirmative. I gave him some old whiskey distilled by John Jameson & Son (a famous firm), which he preferred to drink undiluted. As he exhibited no emotion on finishing the potation, I enquired how he liked it, and he replied that it was very mild.

I thereupon thought, “Here is an opportunity for getting rid of some of my vile poteen;” so I gave him half a tumbler of it. He drank it, and exclaimed, looking highly pleased, “Ah, doctor, I knew you would have some real good whiskey!” **

Toxiphobia**

There is a form of monomania which I have named *toxiphobia, *that is, an insane idea that some person or persons are endeavouring to poison the victim of the illusion. Being public analyst for several counties and towns, many toxiphobiacs have called upon or written to me on the subject of being poisoned. From 1860 to 1876 I kept a record of these toxiphobiacs, who in those 16 years numbered 63.

Since the latter year I have kept no account of them, but they continue to write to or call on me at the rate of two or three a year. I do not include amongst the toxiphobiacs decided lunatics, some of whom believe that they have been or are about to be poisoned. Those I refer to were insane only on the one point. Of course, I have occasionally been consulted by persons who had reasonable grounds for suspecting the attempte4 or actual administration of poison, but I do not include them in the number of toxiphobiacs.

Eight men imagined that women were administering love potions to them, but no woman was under that impression. A Catholic lady was emphatic in her opinion that her archbishop was trying to make away with her in order to become possessed of her property: I found that she was not under a delusion as regards possessing landed property

A petty sessions clerk had some whimsical notions relative to the plans which his supposed attempted poisoners adopted in order, to quote his own words, “to get the poison into” him. He brought me a nightcap and nightshirt which he believed were charged with some subtle poison, for when he put them on they made his flesh “creep,” as if he was stung by nettles. His enemy came by night and blew poison through the window if open, through the keyhole, and down the chimney, which caused him irritation of his lungs followed by “weakness.” He attributed his persecution to the circumstance that when appointed petty sessions clerk he was not a native of the place, and that local applicants for the office were, “out of revenge,” trying to get rid of him. I ascertained from one of the justices in his court that he was an excellent petty sessions clerk.

A lady, highly connected, continued for several years to bring me articles of food and drink for analysis. Her suspicion fell upon her brothers and sisters, who she believed wanted to get rid of her in order to get her property, but she told me that she had never accused them of such designs. She was always satisfied on learning that the wine, bread, etc., which she suspected, contained nothing deleterious, but she would bring fresh specimens some months after. I often met ibis lady in society, and so far as I could perceive no one suspected that she was a monomaniac.

A lady, who suspected that ‘her husband desired her death in order to marry a younger woman, never, she said, mentioned her suspicion to anyone except to me. No one suspected her to be a monomaniac, so far as I could learn without raising the question. Another lady, who believed that her husband was slowly poisoning her, persuaded her relatives that her suspicion was well founded, and a separation resulted. Subsequent events proved that the husband had no such intention, but although the lady’s relatives recanted their opinion of his conduct, she refused to return to him. This lady was clever, agreeable, and on every point, save the one, was apparently sane.

A person who was an important witness for the plaintiff in a Chancery suit, lived in continual apprehension of being poisoned by emissaries of the defendant. He kept perpetually changing his lodgings, cooked his own food, gave up the use of milk and other articles into which poison could be readily introduced, but, nevertheless, plied his business-that of a solicitor’s clerk - intelligently and creditably, as I was informed. I was always most cautious, in making enquiries concerning my toxiphobiacs, not to explain my object.

Many of my peculiar clients were incredulous as to the absence of poison in the articles they submitted for analysis. A* *young man, of very peculiar appearance - I thought he was probably a Eurasian - frequently brought various articles for analysis. He would not give either his name or address. His delusion was that a young lady, in order to further her matrimonial designs upon his unwilling self, insidiously introduced into his food some love-compelling substances.

He always smiled incredulously on being informed of the negative results of the analysis. On one occasion he brought a specimen of tea to me, which I found to contain very some shreds of tobacco, which I knew he must have put into the tea. When he called, I got between him and the door of the laboratory, and, assuming a stern aspect, I said, pointing to the tea, “Who put it in?” He said, “I did not put the tobacco into it,” although I had not mentioned the word tobacco. I told him to depart and never show his face again, and he hurriedly rushed out of the laboratory. I saw him a few times afterwards in the street, but when he saw me he always made off with great rapidity.

A sea captain, who had a suspicion similar to the dark young man, was equally incredulous, but he was disposed to be violent on learning the negative results of the analysis. Several times when he met me in the street he shouted, “I don’t believe you, I don’t believe you.” I was almost afraid of personal violence from him.

At present, two toxiphobiacs, both women, pay occasional visits to my laboratory.

Philters (from the Latin *Philtrum, *a love charm or potion) were used from an early period by the Greeks and Romans; amongst the latter during the period of the Empire. Their manufacture was carried out upon a large scale and their sale openly conducted. It need hardly be said that their use often resulted in madness, imbecility, and physical disease.

Caligula’s madness was by some attributed to philters administered to him by his wife, Cresonia, for the purpose of retaining the tyrant’s affections. Gueretius, it is said, was deprived of his reason by a love potion. In the literature of the Middle Ages there are but few references to philters, but in modern times deaths from their administration have occurred.

In the case of the Queen against Manifold for murder (in which case I was a witness), tried at the Wicklow Summer Assizes, the prisoner was accused of having poisoned a girl (his sweetheart) by giving her phosphorus paste. He was acquitted, but the popular opinion was that the phosphorus had been given to the girl as an aphrodisiac or love incentive. **

Jokes Recorded In Official Reports**

In taking evidence before Parliamentary, Departmental, Viceregal, and other Commissions, the shorthand reporter puts down everything said, even when a joke is made not intended to be recorded. The reporter, however, does not record the laughter that may follow the joke.

On several occasions when I was under examination I said something jocularly, which I did not offer as serious evidence, but which nevertheless appeared subsequently in print. I shall only give one example.

Some years ago a commission was appointed to investigate the subject of the boundaries of towns and their extensions. It is familiarly known as the Exham Commission, from the name of its chairman.

When the commission sat in Dublin I was examined. Mr. Alfred Harris, at the time an alderman of Dublin, asked me where I resided, not because he did not know where I lived, but wished to get the fact recorded; I replied, “In Pembroke Road.” “Is that road within the city?” he queried. “It is not,” I replied; “it is in Pembroke township.” Then,” said the alderman, “you do not contribute to the burthens of the city?” “I do,” I said. “How can you, when you live outside of it?” he said. I replied that “I contributed to the burthens of the city, but not to their alleviation.” I referred to my salary as a Corporation officer. All this is given in a Blue Book, but there is no reference to laughter having followed my remark. In the newspaper report of my evidence the word “laughter” was not suppressed.

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