under Captain Guest, and held it at the time of XV. his death. There can be no doubt that he would have risen to the highest position in his profession, and I may, perhaps, be bold enough, now that he is dead, to say that the present Secretary of State for Air told me quite recently that he thought him an officer very likely to become one day Chief of the Air Staff. And quite suddenly all this promise is extinguished as the result of a neglected ailment, and he who for so long with dauntless eyes faced and challenged death has fallen on the assault of disease before an inscrutable decree. None who knew him will ever forget his striking personality. His finely shaped head gave certain promise of indomitable resolution. Indeed, its ruthless power was qualified only by its latent humour and its delightful and attractive simplicity. I know of no character in history or fiction of whom he more constantly reminded me than of " Valiant, in Pilgrim's Progress, walking into the dark river. And like Valiant, he, too, during four years of cool and inextinguishable daring, might have asked, and with the same contempt, "O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory?" And I think that for him too, as he neared the other bank, the trumpets must have sounded. Of the affections of his life and of his friendships, though both are well known to me, I do not at this moment speak, but a more constant heart never beat for those whom he loved, nor a more valiant one for England. May his brave spirit rest in peace! XVI. XVI EDWARD HORNER EDWARD HORNER was born on May 3, 1888, of the ancient and well-known Horner family of Mells, Frome. He was educated at Summerfields and at Eton, passing into College at the election in 1901, but his father, Sir John Horner, decided to send him as an oppidan, and his Eton life was spent in Mr. Impey's House. In 1906 he went to Balliol. His chief friends at Eton and at Balliol were a brilliant and ill-fated band of whom much has been written. The two Grenfells, Patrick Shaw Stewart, Charles Lister, Anderson, Raymond Asquith, Vernon, and Anson. All are dead. When he left Oxford he decided to be called to the Bar, and came in due course as a pupil to my chambers, beginning his work there in 1910. Thereafter he became one of my intimate friends, often staying with me, and on one occasion he made a long expedition in my company to the United States of America and Canada. When the War broke out, he held a subaltern's commission in the yeomanry of his native county. He mobilised at once with his regiment, but becoming convinced that the yeomanry would not be sent to any theatre of war without much delay, and being passionately anxious to take But XVI. XVI. He had already been offered honourable and useful occupation in England by Lord French, but he knew that his regiment, which had sustained many casualties, was in need of him. He returned to the front, and was heavily engaged from the 13th to the 21st November 1917, and on the 21st, No. 4 Troop, of which he was in command, was holding the entrance of the village of Noyelles against strongly pressed German infantry attacks. The Troop had just repelled one such assault. Captain Joynson, the Senior Officer in the neighbourhood, hearing the cheers, came over to learn the cause, and left after congratulating his friend and comrade. He never saw him again. A few moments later, Edward was struck, again in the stomach, by the bullet, fired at close range, of a German sniper, and a few hours later he was dead. This time he appeared to suffer no pain. He seemed to fall gradually into a state of coma. He only spoke once after his wound, asking the Chaplain, as he lay at the dressing-station, if he would be sure to let his people at home know "how things have been with me." Very soon afterwards he died. Such in very brief outline was the life history of one who, in a short time, had stamped a rare, and even a wonderful, personality upon the affections of many very different friends. Six feet four inches in height, broad shouldered, lithe and muscular, with a superbly shaped head and neck, he was a picture of radiant masculine beauty. The noble statue of Mr. Munnings, recently exhibited under the words, "A Cavalry Subaltern," which is to be placed in memory of him near the church at Mells, affords a wonderful picture alike of him and of his type. It was in my eyes one of his principal charms that he united with a form so masculine and with a passion for, and a proficiency in, the most dangerous masculine pursuits, a caressing and sympathetic charm which was entirely feminine. His gaiety, his love for friends, were unsurpassed even among that remarkable brotherhood, all of whom lavished love upon noble and worthy friends. Edward Horner looked on life as magnificent adventure to be lived magnificently and in the great style. He could not be niggardly of himself, of his strength, or of anything that he possessed, and he was ready to bestow all these more gladly upon the necessities of a friend than upon his own. To listen to the troubles of others, to alleviate them by comfort or by sympathy, was part of a very precious gift. He was a much younger and a much less experienced man than I, but there was something about him which always impelled me to go to him with troubles, great and small, however secret these might be. He knew that he could help if only by listening and caring. And he both listened and cared. He had a strong, lively, and in some ways even a brilliant intelligence. Sustained and detailed application was laborious to him. But he was gradually acquiring its discipline when the War broke out, and I myself am of opinion that he would have done well at the Bar. Quick, polished, handsome, and intelligent, he brought to its competition a rare and rich accumulation of gifts. VOL. II L XVI. |