Appearance
Excerpt
Excerpt from Appreciations of Richard Harding Davis, by Various
Within the year we have played at pirates together, at the taking of
sperm whales; and we have ransacked the Westchester Hills for gunsites
against the Mexican invasion. And we have made lists of guns, and
medicines, and tinned things, in case we should ever happen to go
elephant-shooting in Africa. But we weren't going to hurt the
elephants. Once R. H. D. shot a hippopotamus and he was always ashamed
and sorry. I think he never killed anything else. He wasn't that kind
of a sportsman. Of hunting, as of many other things, he has said the
last word. Do you remember the Happy Hunting Ground in "The Bar
Sinister"?--"where nobody hunts us, and there is nothing to hunt."
Experienced persons tell us that a manhunt is the most exciting of all
sports. R. H. D. hunted men in Cuba. He hunted for wounded men who
were out in front of the trenches and still under fire, and found some
of them and brought them in. The Rough Riders didn't make him an
honorary member of their regiment just because he was charming and a
faithful friend, but largely because they were a lot of daredevils and
he was another.
To hear him talk you wouldn't have thought that he had ever done a
brave thing in his life. He talked a great deal, and he talked even
better than he wrote (at his best he wrote like an angel), but I have
dusted every corner of my memory and cannot recall any story of his in
which he played a heroic or successful part. Always he was running at
top speed, or hiding behind a tree, or lying face down in a foot of
water (for hours!) so as not to be seen. Always he was getting the
worst of it. But about the other fellows he told the whole truth with
lightning flashes of wit and character building and admiration or
contempt. Until the invention of moving pictures the world had nothing
in the least like his talk. His eye had photographed, his mind had
developed and prepared the slides, his words sent the light through
them, and lo and behold, they were reproduced on the screen of your own
mind, exact in drawing and color. With the written word or the spoken
word he was the greatest recorder and reporter of things that he had
seen of any man, perhaps, that ever lived. The history of the last
thirty years, its manners and customs and its leading events and
inventions, cannot be written truthfully without reference to the
records which he has left, to his special articles and to his letters.
Read over again the Queen's Jubilee, the Czar's Coronation, the March
of the Germans through Brussels, and see for yourself if I speak too
zealously, even for a friend, to whom, now that R. H. D. is dead, the
world can never be the same again.
Explanation
This excerpt from Appreciations of Richard Harding Davis (a posthumous collection of tributes to the American journalist, war correspondent, and novelist) is a deeply personal and evocative eulogy, likely written by a close friend or colleague. The passage blends nostalgia, admiration, and grief while celebrating Davis’s adventurous spirit, humility, and unparalleled skill as a storyteller. Below is a detailed breakdown of the text, focusing on its themes, literary devices, and significance, with an emphasis on the excerpt itself.
Context of the Source
Richard Harding Davis (1864–1916) was a celebrated journalist and writer known for his coverage of wars (including the Spanish-American War and World War I), his adventurous lifestyle, and his fiction (e.g., The Bar Sinister, referenced here). The excerpt is part of a collection of essays by contemporaries (including figures like Stephen Crane and Joseph Conrad) reflecting on Davis’s life and work after his death. The tone is intimate, almost conversational, suggesting the author (possibly a fellow writer or war correspondent) knew Davis well.
Themes in the Excerpt
Adventure and Boyish Imagination The opening lines evoke a playful, almost childlike camaraderie between the narrator and Davis. Their shared fantasies—playing at pirates, planning elephant hunts (with the caveat that they wouldn’t harm the animals), and preparing for a fictional Mexican invasion—paint Davis as a man who never lost his sense of wonder. The whimsy here contrasts with the later revelation of his real-life bravery, underscoring how his imagination fueled both his personal and professional life.
- "We have ransacked the Westchester Hills for gunsites against the Mexican invasion." This line blends humor with nostalgia, suggesting their bond was built on shared escapism.
Ethical Hunting and the "Happy Hunting Ground" The reference to The Bar Sinister (Davis’s 1903 novel) and its "Happy Hunting Ground"—"where nobody hunts us, and there is nothing to hunt"—is pivotal. It reflects Davis’s ambivalence toward traditional "sport" hunting. The narrator notes that Davis, despite his adventurous reputation, was not a bloodthirsty sportsman; his regret over killing a hippopotamus humanizes him and aligns with the novel’s critique of cruelty. The "Happy Hunting Ground" becomes a metaphor for peace, freedom from violence, and perhaps an afterlife where Davis’s restless spirit can finally rest.
- "He wasn't that kind of a sportsman." This subtly critiques toxic masculinity and glorified violence in adventure narratives.
Bravery and Humility The shift to Davis’s wartime experiences (particularly in Cuba with the Rough Riders) highlights his courage—but the narrator emphasizes how Davis never boasted about it. Instead, he downplayed his heroism, framing himself as bumbling or unlucky in his own stories. This humility makes his bravery more authentic.
- "To hear him talk you wouldn't have thought that he had ever done a brave thing in his life." The irony here is deliberate: Davis’s modesty is part of what makes him heroic.
- "Always he was running at top speed, or hiding behind a tree..." The exaggerated self-deprecation in his storytelling contrasts with the narrator’s admiration, creating a layered portrait of Davis.
Mastery of Storytelling The narrator compares Davis’s spoken stories to "moving pictures," a then-cutting-edge metaphor (film was still novel in the early 20th century). This simile captures Davis’s ability to immerse listeners in vivid, cinematic detail. His storytelling is described as a three-step process:
- Observation ("his eye had photographed")
- Processing ("his mind had developed and prepared the slides")
- Delivery ("his words sent the light through them") The result is a mental "screen" where audiences experience events as if they were there. This passage is a masterclass in praising a writer’s craft without abstract jargon.
- "Until the invention of moving pictures the world had nothing in the least like his talk." A bold claim, positioning Davis as a revolutionary figure in narrative technique.
Legacy and Irreplaceable Loss The closing lines shift to grief. The narrator asserts that Davis’s records (articles, letters) are indispensable to understanding the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The mention of historic events (Queen Victoria’s Jubilee, the Czar’s Coronation, WWI) underscores his role as a witness to history. The final sentence—"the world can never be the same again"—is raw and personal, transcending professional admiration to express profound sorrow.
- "Read over again the Queen's Jubilee, the Czar's Coronation, the March of the Germans through Brussels..." This functions as both a challenge to the reader and a testament to Davis’s enduring relevance.
Literary Devices
Anecdote and Personal Reminiscence The entire excerpt is structured as a series of vignettes, blending humor (the pirate games), pathos (the hippopotamus story), and awe (the wartime rescues). This mirrors oral storytelling, making the tribute feel intimate.
Irony and Understatement
- Davis’s bravery is described through his absence in his own heroic tales ("I cannot recall any story of his in which he played a heroic or successful part").
- The line "at his best he wrote like an angel" is almost casual, yet it’s one of the highest praises in the passage.
Metaphor and Simile
- Cinematic Metaphor: Davis’s storytelling is compared to film, a then-modern innovation, to emphasize its immediacy and vividness.
- Happy Hunting Ground: Borrowed from Native American lore (and Davis’s novel), this metaphor critiques hunting culture while evoking a utopian afterlife.
Juxtaposition
- The contrast between Davis’s imaginative games and his real-life war correspondence.
- His self-deprecating stories vs. the narrator’s reverence for his courage.
Hyperbole (for Effect)
- "the greatest recorder and reporter of things that he had seen of any man, perhaps, that ever lived." While hyperbolic, this reflects the narrator’s genuine belief in Davis’s unmatched observational skills.
Significance of the Passage
Humanizing a Legend Davis was a larger-than-life figure—a war correspondent, novelist, and celebrity. This excerpt strips away the myth, revealing a man who was playful, humble, and deeply empathetic. The hippopotamus anecdote, in particular, shows his moral complexity.
Defining a New Kind of Heroism The passage redefines bravery not as boastful conquest but as quiet action and self-effacing storytelling. Davis’s heroism lies in his reporting—his ability to bear witness and transmit truth, not in personal glory.
The Power of Storytelling as History The narrator argues that Davis’s work is essential to understanding his era. This elevates journalism to the level of historical record, a radical idea at a time when "objective" reporting was still evolving.
Grief and the Irreplaceable The closing lines transcend eulogy to become a meditation on loss. The narrator doesn’t just mourn Davis; he mourns the loss of a worldview, a way of seeing and telling stories that died with him.
Key Takeaways from the Text Itself
- Tone: A mix of wistful nostalgia, admiration, and sorrow. The narrator’s voice is conversational, as if speaking to a friend who also knew Davis.
- Structure: The passage moves from lighthearted memories to sober reflections on war, then to professional praise, and finally to personal grief. This arc mirrors the complexity of Davis’s life.
- Characterization of Davis:
- Adventurous but ethical (the hunting stories).
- Brave but modest (war anecdotes).
- A genius storyteller (the cinematic metaphor).
- Irreplaceable (the closing lines).
This excerpt is not just about Richard Harding Davis; it’s about the intersection of adventure, art, and history—and how one man’s life and work can encapsulate an era. The narrator’s grief is palpable because Davis wasn’t just a great writer; he was a friend who made the world more vivid, and whose absence leaves it dimmer.