My Early Life
MY EARLY LIFE
WINSTON CHURCHILL
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Illustrations
Preface to the Original Edition
I Childhood
II Harrow
III Examinations
IV Sandhurst
V The Fourth Hussars
VI Cuba
VII Hounslow
VIII India
IX Education at Bangalore
X The Malakand Field Force
XI The Mamund Valley
XII The Tirah Expedition
XIII A Difficulty with Kitchener
XIV The Eve of Omdurman
XV The Sensations of a Cavalry Charge
XVI I Leave the Army
XVII Oldham
XVIII With Buller to the Cape
XIX The Armoured Train
XX In Durance Vile
XXI I Escape from the Boers – I
XXII I Escape from the Boers – II
XXIII Back to the Army
XXIV Spion Kop
XXV The Relief of Ladysmith
XXVI In the Orange Free State
XXVII Johannesburg and Pretoria
XXVIII The Khaki Election
XXIX The House of Commons
Index
Copyright
Map of Cuba
Map illustrating operations of Malakand Field Force
Sketch map of the Mamund Valley
Map of Omdurman, September 1st, 1898
The Armoured Train, November 15th, 1899
Plan of the State Model Schools
General map of Author’s journey
‘Dead or Alive’
Around Spion Kop
The Relief of Ladysmith
In the Orange Free State
Bloemfontein to Pretoria
To a
New Generation
VARIOUS accounts having appeared from time to time of my early life and adventures, and I myself having published thirty years ago stories of the several campaigns in which I took part, and having written later about particular episodes, I have thought it right to bring the whole together in a single complete story; and to tell the tale, such as it is, anew. I have therefore not only searched my memory, but have most carefully verified my facts from the records which I possess. I have tried, in each part of the quarter-century in which this tale lies, to show the point of view appropriate to my years, whether as a child, a schoolboy, a cadet, a subaltern, a war-correspondent, or a youthful politician. If these opinions conflict with those now generally accepted, they must be taken merely as representing a phase in my early life, and not in any respect, except where the context warrants, as modern pronouncements.
When I survey this work as a whole I find I have drawn a picture of a vanished age. The character of society, the foundations of politics, the methods of war, the outlook of youth, the scale of values, are all changed, and changed to an extent I should not have believed possible in so short a space without any violent domestic revolution. I cannot pretend to feel that they are in all respects changed for the better. I was a child of the Victorian era, when the structure of our country seemed firmly set, when its position in trade and on the seas was unrivalled, and when the realisation of the greatness of our Empire and of our duty to preserve it was ever growing stronger. In those days the dominant forces in Great Britain were very sure of themselves and of their doctrines. They thought they could teach the world the art of government, and the science of economics. They were sure they were supreme at sea and consequently safe at home. They rested therefore sedately under the convictions of power and security. Very different is the aspect of these anxious and dubious times. Full allowance for such changes should be made by friendly readers.
I have thought that it might be of interest to the new generation to read a story of youthful endeavour, and I have set down candidly and with as much simplicity as possible my personal fortunes.
WINSTON SPENCER CHURCHILL
CHARTWELL MANOR
August, 1930
Chapter I
WHEN does one first begin to remember? When do the waving lights and shadows of dawning consciousness cast their print upon the mind of a child? My earliest memories are Ireland. I can recall scenes and events in Ireland quite well, and sometimes dimly, even people. Yet I was born on November 30, 1874, and I left Ireland early in the year 1879. My father had gone to Ireland as secretary to his father, the Duke of Marlborough, appointed Lord-Lieutenant by Mr Disraeli in 1876. We lived in a house called ‘The Little Lodge’, about a stone’s throw from the Viceregal. Here I spent nearly three years of childhood. I have clear and vivid impressions of some events. I remember my grandfather, the Viceroy, unveiling the Lord Gough statue in 1878. A great black crowd, scarlet soldiers on horseback, strings pulling away a brown shiny sheet, the old Duke, the formidable grandpapa, talking loudly to the crowd. I recall even a phrase he used: ‘and with a withering volley he shattered the enemy’s line’. I quite understood that he was speaking about war and fighting and that a ‘volley’ meant what the black-coated soldiers (Riflemen) used to do with loud bangs so often in the Phoenix Park where I was taken for my morning walks. This, I think, is my first coherent memory.
Other events stand out more distinctly. We were to go to a pantomime. There was great excitement about it. The long-looked-for afternoon arrived. We started from the Viceregal and drove to the Castle where other children were no doubt to be picked up. Inside the Castle was a great square space paved with small oblong stones. It rained.
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