TOPIC:

The Honourable Arthur Ernest Henry Eliot

Captain, South African Mounted Irregular Forces
Assistant Provost Marshall, South West District, Cape Colony – Anglo Boer War
Captain, Army Service Corps (Lahore Division)
Military Tribunal Officer, Ministry of National Service – WWI

- Queens South Africa Medal (Cape Colony, South Africa 1901) to Lieut. A.E.H. Eliot. S.A.M.I.F.
- 1914 Star (5TH AUG – 22ND NOV 1914) to LIEUT. A.E.H. ELIOT. A.S.C.
- British War Medal to LT. A.E.H. ELIOT.
- Victory Medal to LT. A.E.H. ELIOT.

Eliot was a flamboyant man of many parts. In the immortal words of Peregrine, 10th Earl St. Germans: Arthur --- Considered the 'Black Sheep' by the contemporary family. 4 wives, Manager of Music Halls, etc. 'The only good thing you can say about Arthur is that he never actually went to jail.' My father (St. G. IX) said he was extremely amusing, risque, witty, etc.

Ernie, as he was known to his family and friends, was high-born, the brother to the Earl of St. Germans in Cornwall, well-educated and well connected. Seeing the light of day for the first time on 13 July 1874 in Brompton, London, he was the son of Lt. Colonel The Honourable Charles George Cornwallis Eliot, C.V.O., and his wife Constance Rhiannon Guest. He was baptised in Brompton on 6 August 1874 at which point his father was described as being a Captain in the Militia living at 2 Ovington Gardens, Kensington.



According to the 1881 England census, the Eliot family lived at 8 Onslow Gardens in Kensington. Eliot senior was a Captain in the Cornwall Militia as well as a member of the Royal Household and of His Royal Highness Prince Christian. The family was a large one with siblings Blanche Elizabeth (14), Evelyn Radigund (12), Christian Edward Cornwallis (7) and Edward (3) keeping the 6 year old Arthur company. Granville John Eliot, later to be the 7th Earl of St. German’s, and Montague Charles were away at school. Unsurprisingly the family were outnumbered by the number of servants and attendants – eight in total, ranging from the Governess to the Footman.

As was befitting a son of the landed gentry, Eliot was educated in H.M.S. Brittania, entering in 1887 as a Naval Cadet, perhaps hinting at a potential naval career which didn’t come to pass, before moving on to Charterhouse where he received the bulk of his schooling. It was at Charterhouse that he was to be found in the 1891 England census, aged 16, entering the Long Quarter (Saunderites) in 1889 and leaving in late 1891.

Having completed his schooling Eliot scouted around for something with which to occupy himself. Setting his sights on the Militia his name appeared in the Volunteer Service Gazette of 4 March 1893 as a 2nd Lieutenant with the 3rd London Regiment, with effect from February 25th, 1893. This was to be Eliot’s first time in uniform.



Two years later, on 23 May 1895 in the Registry Office of the District of Paddington, Eliot entered the marital estate, taking 23 year old Florence Maud Parks-Smith to be his wife. He was 21 years old and of independent means. This was to be the first of four marriages in which Eliot was embroiled and, as may have been gathered one that was not destined to last. Marriage in itself wasn’t an occupation and Eliot turned his attention to that fickle mistress, the Stage, to keep himself busy. Claiming in later life to having had “80 jobs in 60 years”, the theatre and all that went with it were a common thread throughout with one of the first references to his involvement in the bright lights and glitter appearing in The Sketch of January 4 1899,

“Alice in Wonderland at the Opera Comique – Arthur Ernest Henry Eliot, the clever and energetic actor-manager to whose enterprise we owe the revival, is now only twenty four years of age, though he has been on the stage for some few years. He was born at Port Eliot, St German’s in Cornwall, the seat of his uncle, the Earl of St Germans and, after the usual education of an English boy, in which sport played a prominent part, he went up for the Navy, and at once “got through,” and he has also served in the Militia, with the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry. Then he decided to go on stage and made his first professional appearance at the Duke of York’s Theatre in “Baron Golosh,” after which he toured “The New Barmaid” company for eight months. His wife is the daughter of Major Egerton Parks-Smith R.A.”

His next theatrical headline was a rather more sobering one – a newspaper report of 4 March 1899 reporting under the heading “Application for Discharge of Bankruptcy” that,

“Mr. Arthur Ernest Eliot, lessee and manager of the Opera Comique Theatre, London, applied for his discharge from bankruptcy. The Official Receiver, in the course of his observations and report, stated that the debtor was made a bankrupt in 1895 with the debtor leaving England to delay his creditors. Subsequently he returned and passed his public examination. According to the bankrupts statement of affairs his liabilities were estimated at £873 with the only asset in the state a banker’s cheque of £5. Eliot, shortly before the bankruptcy proceedings, left this country to fulfill a theatrical engagement in South Africa. He returned on September 29, 1896. He attributed his insolvency to living beyond his means and borrowing money at extravagant interest. He received an allowance of £100 a year from his father. The attention of the court was called to the fact that the debtor spent £1223 when his income was only £100. He also admitted in examination that he lost £60 in betting, and as he was never in business at that time, he had no reasonable expectation of paying his debts.

The position of affairs was now this: the bankrupt had now come into some property and was at that moment the lessee and manager of the Opera Comique Theatre, where he had produced the pantomime “Alice in Wonderland.” His income including his salary and percentage of the profits since he had the tenancy of the theatre was from £1500 to £2000. Ultimately it was arranged that Mr. Eliot would deposit the sum of £130 with the Official Receiver the next morning and that an advertisement would appear in the next issue of the London Gazette.”



His legal (and money) woes temporarily over Eliot now turned his attention to military matters. The Anglo Boer War had been raging in South Africa since October 1899 – a do or die conflict between the two Boer Republics of the Orange Free State and her more powerful ally, the Transvaal Republic and Great Britain had arrested the attention of a wide range of adventurers and Eliot, with his previous exposure to the country, was no exception.

His service, or more to the point the claims he made in respect of his service, make for interesting reading. Having decided to leave the stage (and his wife) behind, he set sail for Cape Town where, on 14 August 1900, he completed the attestation forms for service in the South African Mounted Irregular Forces (S.A.M.I.F.). Assigned no. 9697 he stated that he was a 26 year old Gentleman and provided his father, Lt Colonel Eliot of 8 Onslow Gardens, London as his next of kin. A comment in the border of the form tells us that he was promoted Lieutenant on 22 August 1900 per “Line of Communication orders.”

Eliot had an interesting war if he is to be believed. Many years later, in 1933, he wrote a series of articles for the London Weekly Dispatch which was trumpeting his life and experiences. In respect of the Boer War he was quoted as saying,

“Soon after the Boer War broke out, I decided to try my luck as a soldier. Landing at Cape Town in a blue serge suit, I decided that trekking would be poor fun, so I joined Roberts Horse. I have always been frightened of horses. Any animal that prefers to go to sleep standing up with iron boots on must have something wrong with it. However they sent me to a riding school for one afternoon, where I was thrown off four times, and pronounced a full-blown trooper.



That afternoon we were sent up to the Orange Free State to chase De Wet. Actually he was also chasing us, and for 11 weeks we went around in circles achieving nothing. For some unknown reason they gave me a commission and a transfer to Kitchener’s Horse. I remember my Colonel once saying to me: “Now no looting Eliot. But if there is any remember that I would like a couple of chickens and some butter!”

While a dispatch rider, I had to take a message to Lord Roberts 100 miles away at Ivory Hill. Kitchener was standing outside the tent when I arrived. I saluted and said I had a dispatch for Lord Roberts. “Give it to me,” said Kitchener. Thinking myself very clever I refused to deliver this dispatch unless to Lord Roberts. My excess of duty cost me an arrest and a severe “ticking off.”

For two years I had a remarkable white horse for dispatch riding. One day he bolted with me for two miles, ending up in a side alley off the main street of a town called Ceres. A woman and two children, who were English, threw their arms round my charger’s neck. He had been commandeered from them at the beginning of the war.

I remember particularly two incidents in the war. On one occasion I was alone in a Cossack post (outpost sentry) when two figures loomed up. Getting no answer to the challenge I fired and was immediately overpowered by a dozen monkeys. Another time a solitary Boer and I potted at each other for ten minutes from behind adjacent rocks. Eventually I called out: “This is damn silly. Let’s have a drink!” He agreed and came out preceded by a magnificent red beard. We had a drink and went peacefully on our way.”

Although some of what he wrote appears to be tongue in cheek, Eliot did serve as an officer in the S.A.M.I.F., as previously alluded to. What has been impossible to trace is any involvement with Robert’s Horse or, indeed Kitchener’s Horse, although this could well have been a reference to his S.A.M.I.F. service.

Undaunted, Eliot soldiered on and was appointed an Assistant Provost Marshall for the South West District of the Cape Colony. The Manchester Evening News of 21 January 1901 carried a report under the banner “The Invaders in the Mountains” which stated that:

“Tulbagh, Saturday – Captain Eliot has been appointed Commandant here. Parties of Boers are reported to be in the neighboring mountains, but our patrols have not yet come into contact with them. This portion of the district is quiet. The inhabitants are bearing with equanimity the discomforts incidental to the first few days of martial law.”

Eliot’s Charthouse entry also states that he was at one time (in 1900) on the staff of Colonel Du Cane (R.H.A.) although this is nowhere else mentioned. What is known is that he was related to the Du Cane family. This is confirmed in a report in the Morning Post of 31 July 1901 which, in referring to the estate of Eliot’s father who had died the previous year, mentioned that his nephew, Louis Ducane (sic) had been appointed Executor. Of interest is the bequests made. Ernie was to receive £4000 on special trusts with the balance of the £15 000 going to his mother and siblings.

Having been promoted to Captain rank Eliot resigned his appointment on 20 May 1901 and returned to England. There was a cogent reason as to why his war had ended so abruptly – word had reached him that whilst he was away in Africa waging war, his wife was entertaining a number of men in their apartment living up to the saying that “whilst the cats away the mice will play!”

Having returned to the United Kingdom, Eliot petitioned for the dissolution of his marriage on 17 August 1901 naming, as co-respondents to his wife, two gentlemen – Frank Raban and George Templar. The suit was undefended and the Decree Nisi was granted on 27 January 1902 with the court finding his wife guilty of adultery with both men. The petition read, partially, as follows:

- “That after said marriage your petitioner lived and cohabited with his said wife at divers places and at 13 Albion Street, Hyde Park and at No’s 1 and 2 Northumberland Mansions, Marylebone and there has been no issue of the said marriage.
- That on the 4th day of May 1901 the said Florence Maud Eliot at 52 Maddox Street, Regent Street committed adultery with Frank Raban.
- That between the 4th day of May 1901 and the 15th day of July 1901 the said Frank Raban frequently visited Florence Eliot and on divers occasions committed adultery with her.
- That on the 27th, 28th and 29th days of July 1901 Florence Eliot committed adultery with George Templar.”

The February 2nd, 1902 edition of The Weekly Dispatch carried the final salvo in the divorce saga in an article entitled ““Irregulars” Both” – it read, in humorous vein, thus:

“Captain Eliot, one of our irregular fighters in South Africa, has had the bad luck to miss a lot of service by reason of his having to return as an invalid. But he has had worse luck in his matrimonial adventures than any which attended him in the field. In 1895 he married the respondent, Florence Maud, then underage (factually incorrect as she was 23 at the time of the marriage and older than Eliot). In 1900 he volunteered and went out with a commission in the Irregular Horse, leaving his wife at Northumberland Mansions, in Marylebone.

He was invalided home and found his wife had gone to Australia and as he had previously to complain of her extravagance and intemperance he went back to active service. After a time his wife returned and went to live at Maddox Street, Regent Street where she was seen by petitioner’s friends to receive a number of gentlemen visitors. Among others came Mr. Frank Raban, a friend of her husband’s, with whom she went to the Apollo Theatre.

They returned to her flat in the evening and, although a solicitor’s clerk watched until two, he saw nothing of Mr. Raban’s reappearance. When the lights were put out the watchers left. Informed of these facts Captain Eliot threw up his commission and, on his return having received what he considered proof of his wife’s infidelity, proceedings were commenced. There being no defence the President granted petitioner his Decree, with costs against the two co-respondents – Raban and Templar.”
A man-about-town once more, Eliot immersed himself in a number of enterprises. On 29 July 1903 a letter he penned appeared in the Westminster Gazette. Written to the Editor in a sarcastic tone, it read:

“Dear Sir – I notice that a horse of the Royal Horse Artillery has been awarded and decorated with a medal for its services in South Africa. I shall be relieved to hear when they commence serving out medals to the mules, as after that event has taken place there may be a chance for mere men who, like myself, served for many months and have been applying in vain for over a year for our medals. Your faithfully A.E. Eliot, late Kitchener’s Horse, 141 Ebury Street, S.W.”

The Western Morning News of August 16, 1907 kept their readers apprised of what was going on in the tumultuous life of Ernie Eliot. It was inevitable that a man of his character, tastes, and refinement, coupled with his theatrical flair, wouldn’t stay out of trouble for long and so it proved to be. Under the heading “Hon. A.E.H. Eliot’s Affairs” the paper informed its readers that:

“In the London Bankruptcy Court the Hon. Arthur E.H. Eliot appeared for his adjourned public examination. Described as of Onslow Gardens, he failed in January 1906 with total liabilities of £6 253 and nil assets. Two previous failures are recorded against him, first in December 1895 and again in July 1899. After having been for a short time a lessee of a London theatre and previously partner in a “dental therapeutic” business. Having served in South Africa he afterwards managed an Estate Agency at 141 Ebury Street, S.W. which he subsequently acquired and carried on under the style of “A. Eliot & Co.” until the failure.

Then in April 1905, with a view to sub-letting it to a syndicate, the debtor took the Royal Victoria Pavilion, Ramsgate, on a three year’s agreement, at an annual rental of £1 500, and paid one quarter in advance, but in the following July, being unable to pay the remaining quarter’s rent, he surrendered his tenancy. The failure was principally due to his expenditure having exceeded profits.” Eliot was also censured for not appearing for his public examination on a number of occasions. On 23 March 1908 a warrant was issued for his arrest. Described as a 34 year old Journalist, he surrendered in court and, having been found guilty of obtaining credit without disclosing his status as an undischarged bankrupt, was discharged having entered into an agreement with his creditors.

All went quiet on the Eliot front for a few years. The 1911 England census described him as a Journalist and Editor of Vanity Fair – a very prestigious publication – living at 41 Gordon Mansions, Huntley Street, London. He was 36, single and at home with his 43 year old Housekeeper, Charlotte Isobel Barnes, also single. His marital status was about to change, however, with his marriage to Elizabeth Marshall on 11 October 1911. This marriage was also destined to be short-lived with his bride passing away in 1913.

On 4 August 1914 the Great War erupted on the world stage. Never one to shy away from adventure the intrepid Eliot put up his hand once more in the defence of freedom. On this occasion it was against Kaiser Wilhelm II’s Germany. An early entrant to the war, he was commissioned as a Lieutenant on 14 September 1914 and attached to the Railway Supply Depot of the Army Service Corps. This was followed by promotion to Captain on 26 March 1915.

Unbeknown to him as he was already in Europe, a letter from the Ministry of Defence arrived at his residence, Leyden’s House, Edenbridge, Kent ordering him to join the 8th (Service) Battalion of the East Kent Regiment at East Shoreham, leaving it up to his step-son to inform the authorities, on 2 October 1914 that “Mr. Eliot is already in France having obtained a commission in the Army Service Corps.”

Eliot had a checkered military career. Having been sent to France on 19 September 1914 as part of the Lahore Division of the British Expeditionary Force, he was sent home, sick, on 29 October 1914, returning to Havre on 12 February 1915 and from there to the Base Supply Depot at Boulogne on St Valentine’s Day. During his time with them the Lahore Division fought in the Battles of La Bassee, 1st Messines and Armentieres along the British part of the Western Front. After his return to France they fought in the Battle of Neuve Chapelle. Eliot was allowed to relinquish his commission owing to poor health on 13 June 1915.

Now based in England he was attached to the Ministry of National Service as Military Representative to the City of London from 1915 to 1918 working out of their offices in Guildford. That service complete, one would have thought we had seen the last of him for the duration of the war. Not so – from his home in Hampshire he wrote asking to be posted to a Prisoner of War Camp where his services might be required. The authorities responded with alacrity – they had need of a Camp Commandant in the far reaches of wintry Scotland. But this was not what Eliot had hoped for and what followed was an almost farcical exchange of correspondence between him and the Military Authorities.

He summarized his service for the benefit of his seniors in this letter from Hill Cottage, Eversley, Hants, dated 19 June 1918

Sir

I have to request that I may be allowed to resign my commission in H.M. Army. The following are the facts:

I volunteered in September 1914 and proceeded to France as Lieutenant in the A.S.C. and was attached to the Lahore Division – and I was later promoted to Captain.

In June 1915 I was invalided out of the service and received a silver badge, and I have also been given the certificate of service and discharge from HM the King.

In July 1915 I applied for recruiting duties and was appointed R.O. (Recruitment Officer), and after doing duty in various towns I was appointed Military Representative to the City of London Tribunal and acted as such for nearly two years. At the beginning of 1918 I was taken ill, but I continued my duties as well as I could until March when I had a serious breakdown, and for three months I was at home being treated at my own expense by specialists, and my local doctor. I might mention that I was seriously ill.

In May I felt it my duty to try and serve again in some way – although my specialist advised me not to do so, saying I was not in sufficiently good health. I applied to the Prisoners of War Department for an appointment – specially asking that it might be near to my own home or London so that I could still be under the treatment of my doctors. However at the beginning of June I received a telegram to proceed to Stobs in Scotland for duty – I duly went but after two days collapsed and was examined by the RAMC Major in charge – who gave me a certificate that I was entirely unfit for duty.

I proceeded to London on 48 hours leave to see if I could arrange to be transferred to nearer London – as I was anxious not to give up duty – but I was too ill to carry this out and had to telegraph to this effect to Stobs. In reply I received a telegram to report to the nearest military hospital – this I accordingly did – and applied for permission to go to London before being admitted as I was anxious not to give up my private treatment which up to the present has cost me over £200.

This permission was given me and I proceeded to London and saw my specialist Dr Lewis Smith of 25 Queen Anne Street, who said I was in a very bad state of health.

I returned to the hospital but on ascertaining that I had not yet been admitted as a patient, I returned home where I am now still of course under medical treatment. I respectfully beg that the above facts be taken into consideration, that I have done my best to serve my country having three times volunteered my services – that I am very very far from well – that I have already been once invalided from the service.

My two stepsons are serving, one a Lieutenant in the Grenadier Guards and the other a Lieutenant in the Indian Army. I am a widower and the only male member of the family left. I have many responsibilities. I am 44 years old – served as a Trooper in the Boer War, later gaining my commission and I was promoted to Captain.

In the event of resignation not being allowed – may I apply for a special Medical Board.

I have the honour to be – your obedient servant A.E.H. Eliot.”

The Army, no doubt wanting to put an end to the matter, honoured his request for a medical board and Eliot, based on its findings, was sent home never to don a uniform again.

Where to now for Eliot? A man of his enterprise and seemingly endless ingenuity soon found himself occupied. The first order of business was to find a wife – this he did by marrying the beautiful Mabel Louise Dean Paul at Marylebone on 28 April 1919. This, his third marriage, was to end in tragic circumstances. To fully appreciate the magnitude of what transpired we turn to the newspapers of the day.

The Daily News July 12, 1919 under the heading “Series of Sensations at the Atherton Inquest” revelled in telling their readers what must have been juicy gossip for the day:

“Seldom, if ever, has any coroner listened to the story so packed with emotion that which was unfolded at Westminster at the inquest on Mrs Eliot, better known as the beautiful Mrs Atherton. Attired in full evening dress and wearing an exquisite Pearl necklace, the famous beauty was found shot dead in her flat in Curzon St.

Sensational evidence was given by the Earl of March, son and heir of the Duke of Richmond, who said that when he met Mrs Eliot in Hyde Park last Saturday, she told him she was extremely miserable because her husband, Captain Arthur Eliot, was living with his step-daughter Miss Nellie Cornell, age 24. Both gave evidence yesterday denying the allegation, and the jury returned a verdict of suicide while of unsound mind.

The first notes of sensation at yesterday's coroner's inquiry into the death of Mrs Eliot (Mrs Atherton) was supplied by the evidence of the Earl of March. He said that he had known Mrs Eliot for two or three years. Last Saturday he met her in Hyde Park, and she told him then that she was extremely miserable and that her husband was living with his stepdaughter. The Coroner: Did she explain what she meant? Yes. She said she found them together at Eversley. That was shortly after Mrs Eliot was married. “She said that it made her very ill,” continued the Earl of March. She went away, she said, and after she returned was met by her husband on the doorstep, who threatened to have her thrown out by the servants should she attempt to come in.

She asked me for advice, and I told her the obvious thing to do was to divorce her husband. She wanted to see me, and I wrote to her and said what I thought about her husband.” At this stage, the coroner handed the Earl of March the letter addressed to him, which was found near Mrs Eliot’s body, but the letter was not read out aloud in court. Did she say she did not know her husband was bankrupt when he married her? Asked Sir E Marshall Hall (for Colonel Eliot and family) She must have been pretty nearly off her head when she told you that. “I don't think so,” was the reply. “Do you tell me that you believe for one moment what Mrs Eliot said to you last Sunday?” Yes. I've known Mrs Eliot for about three years, and she's been a very sympathetic friend to me. “Did she tell you that she had been telegraphing to her husband, imploring him to come to her?” Yes, was the reply. “Can you, as a man of the world, believe that a woman who had found her husband in that condition would telegraph imploring him to return?” Well, that is what she told me. “I suggest that on the Sunday she was in a hysterical state because of the marital troubles. Mr. John Withers, Solicitor, said he acted for Mrs Eliot during the last 9 or 10 years. She called on him on June 30th, and told him that she was married, and that it had been arranged that they should live at Eversley.

Mr Withers said he gathered it was 10 days or a fortnight after the marriage that she made the discovery that she related. She told him, he said, that while staying at Eversley, she missed her husband between 4:00 and 5:00 one morning. She said she went downstairs and found her husband and Miss Cornell in the latter's room.

Captain Eliot, she further declared, subsequently told her that if she made a scandal of it, he would shoot himself. She knew he had two revolvers, and she took them away and hid them. Miss Florence Berry, who was Mrs Eliot's maid at the time of her marriage to Captain Eliot, said that a fortnight ago witness saw Mrs Eliot, who told her that she had seen Captain Eliot and Miss Cornell at Eversley together. On the day that Captain Eliot took Miss Cornell away from Eversley, Mrs Eliot went into the woods to gather Blue Bells and did not return until shortly before midnight. As the witness was getting her into bed, the deceased said. “This is the last time you will brush my hair. I'm not going to make a second bid for happiness. If this fails, I shall put an end to everything.” At about 12:30, witness heard deceased call. When she went into her room, Mrs Eliot said that she was frightened, and asked witness to hold her hand. A few moments later she became unconscious, and the doctor was called. The Coroner: “Did you ever see Captain Eliot and Miss Cornell in a compromising situation?” No. Was the answer. In answer to Sir Edward Marshall Hall, witness said that she knew deceased had a revolver. She warned Captain Eliot to be careful, as she did not know whether deceased intended to kill him or herself.
Miss Nellie Cornell, Captain Eliot’s stepdaughter, a good looking and fashionably dressed young lady, was next called and questioned by Major Simmons. Council: “It has been stated by a witness that Mrs Eliot had said that on a certain day in May, at an early hour in the morning, Mrs Eliot left her room and found you and Captain Eliot together in your room. Is there any truth in that?” Witness: None whatever. It is quite untrue. Major Simmons: “How long have you been living with your brother and Captain Eliot?” Witness: 7 or 8 years since my mother died. “During that time, has anything ever taken place between you and Captain Eliot other than what one would expect between a father and his daughter?” Answer “Nothing, whatever.” Sir Edward Marshall Hall read the following letter written by Mrs Eliot to Miss Cornell:

“Nellie darling, a few lines to say I think you have been so sweet and everything, and as I do so want you to love me and look upon me as someone you can always come to in your joys and sorrows. My one wish is to make you also happy. I know we shall be. It is too wonderful and my heart is full of gratitude and love. I think I'm the happiest woman on earth.” The letter was signed “Mammie”. Sir E Marshall Hall: “Have you ever done anything to forfeit those feelings?” No, was the reply. For coroner: “Is it true to say that you turned Captain and Mrs Eliot out of Eversley?” “No” was the response. Captain Eliot, brother of Captain Arthur Eliot, husband of the deceased, said that on Tuesday evening he saw Mrs Eliot in the drawing room of her flat, his visit to her being made in response to a letter dated Sunday which she had received from her.

The Coroner: “What was the trouble?” The trouble was about her stepchildren. There was a girl of 24 and two sons, one of whom was in the army. “What was the trouble?” Mrs Eliot did not like them. “Did they dislike Mrs Eliot?” Not that I know of. “Where did they live?” In the country. “What was the trouble?” I do not think she liked the children living in the same house as she did. Witness told her it was a pity that she did not want to live with the stepchildren, and she said. “Do you think I have behaved cruelly to Arthur? Perhaps I may be a little stupid.” She then said, “Will you ask Arthur to come round and see me?” Witness went to her telephone and rang up his brother, who said he would rather not come round, but would make a suggestion that neither of them should see each other for one month. For coroner: “You knew that Captain Eliot was not living with his wife?” I did not know. “What was the real trouble?” So far as I know, the trouble was about the children. The coroner then read the letter, which Mrs Eliot addressed to Colonel Eliot. “Dear Chris, would you come and see me, as I'm awfully miserable about Arthur? He will not come to me or answer my letters, and I cannot go on like this.”

The coroner: “So the real trouble is this? The husband left his wife?” Yes, was the answer. My brother, went on, the witness said, I would rather not come down myself because some anonymous letters have been sent to the village about me, and I'm very much upset. I went back and told her that my brother was very upset by these letters, and I said, “Can we not, between us, find who is writing them?” She replied that would be a very good idea.

Miss Edith Lane, Mrs Eliot’s maid, said Mrs Eliot told her she was very unhappy, and that there were difficulties with the stepdaughter. She said she was passionately fond of her husband, which witness knew to be true. Captain Eliot, continued witness, stayed at 47 Curzon St for two nights only since May 28th. One was on May 30, another on June the 13th. On June the 14th, when they drove down to Eversley, no one met them at the door. Shortly after they arrived, Captain Eliot spoke to the witness and told her that it was impossible for them to stay because Mrs Eliot could not get on with Miss Nellie. I went into the drawing room and saw Mrs Eliot, and she said: “He tells me I must go, his own wife, from the house in which he is living. He says I will give you 5 minutes to clear out. If you do not, I will send for a policeman to turn you out, or my manservant and chauffeur will carry you out.”

Witness left the drawing room and Mrs Eliot told her subsequently that Captain Eliot went down on his knees and implored her to leave for his sake and gave his word of honour that he would be at Curzon St the following day at breakfast. Witness returned to London by car with Mrs Eliot. On the following day Captain Eliot did not come. He came on June 17th, and during the interval Mrs Eliot had been frightfully ill. On the day before her death, last Monday, Mrs Eliot showed witness a letter which shed receive from Captain Eliot, in which he said: “After the events of the last few days, I think it would be as well for us to make definite arrangements for the future. Perhaps you will ring me up on Tuesday at about 12:30 and we can arrange an appointment.”

In the early evening, I was in Mrs Eliot’s room for 3/4 of an hour, and during the whole time, her conversation was on the impending interview with Captain Elliot. She said, “My whole life depends on this interview.” Subsequently, the interview with Captain Eliot took place. During the evening, Mrs Eliot was greatly upset and would have nothing to eat. She wrote some letters and left them in the drawing room. At 8:30 she took the letters up to her bedroom and locked herself in. At 5 minutes past 12, witness heard the report of a gun. The bedroom door was broken open, and they found Mrs Eliot sitting in an armchair with a gun beside her. There were two letters on the chest of drawers, one of which was addressed to the Earl of March. In answer to Mr Phillip Conway, Witness said while she had been with the Mrs Eliot since her recent marriage, she never found her happy for a moment. That was due to the cruel treatment of her husband. Mrs Eliot’s only wish in life was for her husband to live with her.


Eliot in the witness box at his 3rd Wife's inquest

Captain Eliot’s Denial of Allegations

Captain Arthur Eliot said he served in the Boer War and in the recent war, and he had written plays. He first made the acquaintance of Mrs Eliot about a month before he married her. Witness continued:

“There was some sort of bond between us, as many years ago I was engaged to her sister. Perhaps not exactly engaged, but she died. I became very much attached to her and married her on April 26 this year. Before marrying her, I told her I'd been married before and that I had been a bankrupt in 1911 and was still undischarged. I told her that I had three stepchildren by my late wife and took her down to Eversley in order to introduce the two stepchildren - the young lady who has given evidence and her brother Ralph. The house at Eversley is my stepdaughters. There is a flat in London.

Sir E Marshall Hall: “Had she ever told you what her means were? Yes, she told me she had £4000 to £5000 a year. I told her I earned very little money compared with what she had. “Where did you go after the first day of the marriage?” Haselmere - we stayed there three days. I had trouble with her the day we came away. There was a scene. Her son rang up from London, was very surprised and annoyed at the marriage, and she asked me why I had not posted the letter to him which she asked me to post, telling him she was married, But I told her that I had posted it. She never told me anything about her life. And I never asked.

Sir Marshall Hall: Tell us about the incident in May, when it was alleged that you turned her out of the house. Among many squabbles there was one where she said Nellie or she would have to leave the house. I took Nellie away to London, to a flat with some friends. I was in bed at the flat about, I suppose, 5:00, and the telephone rang, and the servant at Eversley told me that Mrs Eliot was very ill and would I come down. The maid told me to be very careful how I went into the room. She said Mrs Eliot had revolvers and said she would shoot me. I found Mrs Eliot in bed. I found the case of a revolver in the cupboard. One was fully loaded under the pillow. I asked if she had another, but she said no. I said would you swear it? She said yes. The maid came in and took one out of the clothes basket. In reply to Sir E Hall, witness said the allegation regarding him and his stepdaughter was absolutely untrue. “When did you first consult Dr Furber? Was it early in June? Yes, I think so. I had a talk with my wife’s son. In consequence of what? I thought her behaviour extraordinary. Her son said: I think she is mad and behaved in a mad way in Ireland. I said: “I think I will go to the doctor about her.” I told the doctor not to raise her suspicions when he called on her, but to say that he had come to congratulate her on the wedding. That night her son and myself waited in the street for two hours in his car a mile away from the house and afterwards went up to the doctor's house alone to ask him what he thought of her condition. He could not certify her as insane. He thought she was excited.

Witness said: The last time that I went to see her, I asked her if she would come and talk things over. She came, and I asked her if we could arrange things and live together again and try and be happy. She said, Never. She said she could not live with me. I asked why. She said, because in 1911 I managed a circus and fell in love and carried on with a circus rider. Did she give you the name? Yes, Katrina. Did you point out to her that Katrina was a monkey, and it was quite true that you had nursed Katrina? Yes, often. I do not think that she believed that.

Sir Edward: When you married her, were you much attached to her? The answer, yes. Is there any truth in the suggestion of there being another woman in your life? Absolutely none since I have known her. The coroner: You say you were very fond of her. Why did you not go to see her? Because I had this anonymous letter. You don't suggest she sent the anonymous letter? It could only have been written at her dictation. The witness said in the letter he was described as an utter blackguard. The Coroner: But if you were so fond of her, why did you leave her so much alone? Because sometimes she didn't want me to come. At other times there was so many arguments, troubles, tears, and scenes that I kept away. Witness went on to say that his wife was jealous of anybody that he knew. The Coroner: On May 1st you went off with Miss Cornell. That was at her request. The Coroner: She was jealous because she didn't have you entirely to herself and she wanted to remove Miss Cornell.

Had she ever accused you of being in love with Nellie? Yes. She said: I believe you're in love with Nellie. I said: Of course. I love her very much. She said. Is that all? And I replied, “Of course it is.” After a short deliberation the Jury returned a verdict of Suicide whilst of an unsound mind.

The Argus (Melbourne), September 6, 1919 edition carried a report which sketched Mrs Eliot’s past in more detail. Under the heading “The Beautiful Mrs Atherton. A Tragic Suicide”, their correspondent wrote:

London, July 12th - One of London's handsome woman, Mrs Atherton, a person more talked about in society than anybody since the days of Mrs Langtry, has ended her life by her own hand. This event involves a tragic story and has formed a leading topic of the week's news. Mrs Atherton has on several occasions been in the Divorce Court, and has paid more than one penalty, the indirect causes of her ravishing beauty. She was the daughter of Sir E. John Dean Paul, a banker baronet in comfortable circumstances, from whom she inherited about £3000 a year. The public first heard of her in 1906 when her husband, Colonel Atherton, of the 12th Lancers, sued for divorce. The co-respondent was Captain, the Honourable Yarde-Buller, now Lord Churston. The trial was one of the sensations of the day. Before that lawsuit, the Lady had been the object of much criticism at the Cape during the Boer War. She was a leading figure in the scandals of the Mount Nelson Hotel. Lord Kitchener said what he thought about some of the “goings on” in that hotbed of gossip. His celebrated speech about the two pests of “women and flies” were supposed to be directed in part at Mrs Atherton. A young peer officer, whose heart had been broken by the fascinations of this lady, was ordered home from the front.

The Cape scandal was being forgotten when the Yarde-Buller case came on, and Colonel Atherton won his divorce. Mrs Atherton's career attracted further interest some months later, when it was discovered that Captain Yarde Buller married Miss Denise Orme, the actress. Mrs Atherton brought an action for breach of promise against Captain Yarde-Buller, asking for £20,000 damages. The case ended in her favour, but she waived her claim to damages and was satisfied with the formal judgement and costs.

The lady was next heard of in the well-remembered Stirling case. Mr. John Stirling petitioned for a divorce in the Scottish courts against his wife, who was an American, known on the stage as Miss Clara Taylor, the co-respondent being Lord Northland, son of Lord Ranfurly. Mrs Stirling brought a cross-petition alleging her husband’s misconduct with Mrs Atherton. Lord Guthrie pronounced a decree nisi against Mr Stirling but dismissed the charges against Mr Stirling and Mrs Atherton. A few weeks after this trial, Mrs Atherton and Mrs Stirling's mother were in the Marlborough Police Court over a “scrap” in the public street, which ended in both the woman being bound over to keep the peace. In 1911, Mrs Atherton brought an action against her brother Sir A Dean Paul, to answer for language used by his wife against his now notorious sister. It was alleged that Mrs Atherton had been turned out of an hotel in Cairo because of her improprieties. Mrs Atherton left the court with so little discredit to her character that it could be covered by a farthing damages.

Notwithstanding her varied career and her hasty temper, Mrs Atherton was a greatly admired woman. She had a rare beauty and elegance of manners and was a brilliant conversationalist. These qualities attracted many men, and wherever she went, men gathered around her. She made many friends. After Yarde-Buller’s marriage, her first husband, Colonel Atherton, sought to remarry her. Mrs Atherton was a well-known figure in fashionable restaurants, at the opera, and the theatre.

Though so much as 47 years old at her death, she did not look much over 30. One of the most striking testimonies to her character was given by Marie, her French maid, in the Stirling case. The girl was asked whether, at a certain date or period, when her mistress had a retinue of peers, officers, and other big folk, she had formed an opinion of the nature of Mrs Atherton's intimacy. “Long before that”, replied the maid. “Before that?” Asked the council. “Well you see,” was the reply, “I had known Mrs Atherton two years.” Even a Scottish Court of Justice permitted itself to laugh.

In April of this year, Mrs Atherton married Captain Arthur Eliot, a cadet of the Saint Germain's family. This gentleman had a career of much variety. He sometimes acted as assistant editor to Vanity Fair. He was military representative at the Guildhall Recruiting Tribunal during part of the War, He was joint author with Captain Bairnsfather of “The Better Ole”, and, according to the National News, he at one time was the manager of a circus company, and on another occasion acted as secretary to a well-known bookmaker. Captain Eliot’s first marriage ended in divorce. His second wife was a widow, a Mrs Cornell. After her death last year, Captain Eliot took charge of her two sons and her daughter, who is just now 24 years old. The parents left this young lady £5000 a year and a country house, Eversley Court.

About six months after the second wife's death Captain Eliot married Mrs Atherton. According to the maids evidence, they did not live happily, and Captain Eliot only slept at his wife's flat, in Curzon St, on two occasions. Altogether, he spent about a week with her. Most of this time was devoted to his stepdaughter, Miss Cornell, at Eversley. Serious trouble arose between the parties over that young lady. The latter turned Mrs Eliot out of the house at Eversley. Mrs Eliot was jealous of the stepdaughter. She desired to have her husband to herself, and some of the letters read at the Inquest showed how he disregarded her poignant appeals. She asked Colonel Eliot, the husbands brother, who holds a post in the Royal Household, to induce “Arthur” to live with her. She also asked for similar help and sympathy of the Earl of March.

The maid also bore testimony to the many quarrels between husband and wife within a few days of the wedding. Mr Withers, Mrs Eliot’s Solicitor, informed the coroner of instructions he had received from Mrs Eliot to have her husband watched during visits that he was supposed to be making to a lady who frequented Murray’s nightclub. Some witnesses bore testimony to the fact that Mrs Eliot was recently injured about the head in a motor accident; and others that, many years ago, her younger brother committed suicide. The maid and Doctor gave evidence respecting the circumstances of Mrs Eliot’s death. When that Lady went to bed, she told the maid it would be the last time she would brush her hair. A few hours afterwards, the mistress was found shot in her room. She had placed a fowling piece on the floor and apparently discharged it with her foot. She wore her pearls and other jewels; Mrs Eliot’s medical man was away of the ladies jealousy of Miss Cornell and her husband. He quite realised that she was of a nervous disposition. She was also distressed that she was losing her beauty, which she greatly prized. The jury returned a verdict that the woman had committed suicide in a fit of temporary insanity. Her body was cremated at Golders Green Cemetery last Monday. She had quite a remarkable funeral, at which her husband was not present. It is notable that Mrs Eliot died intestate. Her estate will therefore pass to her husband, who is an undischarged bankrupt, though Mrs. Eliot did not discover that fact till after their marriage. We have been informed by Cable that Mrs Atherton's fortune was ordered by the court to pass to her daughter by her first marriage and not to Captain Eliot.”

Scandal and strife seem to have dogged Eliot’s heels at every turn. Whether or not he was romantically entwined with his stepdaughter will remain a matter of conjecture.

After his return from France. And possibly during the time that he spent there, Eliot was a compatriot of the now-famous Captain Bruce Bairnsfather and together they collaborated on a number of plays which were supposed to have been staged in the theatres of London towards the end of the war. He and Bairnsfather father had much in common as real fighting soldiers, as it was, we know he served as a captain with Kitchener's Horse, in the Boer War and in the Indian division in France in 1914. He had, like Bruce Bairnsfather, come out of active service to work in the theatre. During the collaboration on “The Better Ole”, they worked in Eliot’s Hampstead home, where they sat and smoked and talked for hours together. They worked well together, sparking ideas and comedy situations off each other, But in retrospect, Bairnsfather felt that he had contributed the major part - the situation, lines and gags, while he attributed to Eliot the tailoring. Although Bruce found Eliot, a genial and hospitable man with a roguish humour and excellent to work with, at the time of “The Better Ole”, the string of failures that they had collaborated on undoubtedly soured their relationship.

Later, On 14 July, 1919, a strange little paragraph was to appear in The Times, under the heading Captain Bairnsfather, address Messrs. W.H. Champness & Co., Solicitors write: “With reference to the mention in the reports of the inquest on Mrs Atherton of the name of their client, Captain Bruce Bairnsfather, as a collaborator with Captain Eliot, we desire to state, on behalf of Captain Bairnsfather that his collaboration with Captain Eliot ceased some time ago.” The reference was to the sensational suicide of Arthur Eliots wife. Eliot who tried his hand at many things in his time - including working as a manager of Cochran's 1913 circus at Olympia – was an undischarged bankrupt, who had been through the bankruptcy court three times.

Undaunted by his recent setbacks Elliot soldiered on with his life. The Gloucestershire Echo of September 20, 1933 reporting on the front page, under the headline “Fourth Marriage, Adventurous Captain to Wed Again”, the following:

“Notice has been given at a London Registry office of the forthcoming marriage of Captain the Honourable author Ernest Henry Eliot, a younger brother of the Earl of Saint Germans, and Miss Eleanor White Hughes Brownlee, of Portland Place, London.

Captain Eliot is described as a widower, aged 59, of independent means, of Waverton Street, London, and Miss Brownlee's age is given as 41. This will be kept in Eliot's fourth marriage. He has led an adventurous life, and in his 59 years has had over 60 different kinds of employment. He served with distinction in the South African and European wars, and has been a Tram Conductor, Croupier, Actor, Steward, Butler, Stoker, Private Detective, and Theatre Lessee.”

Three years later, Eliot’s irrepressible nature and journalistic flare came to the fore again – on this occasion his lifestyle, past and present, was deemed of sufficient interest for the Dispatch newspapers to serialise a number of articles, penned by him, about his life. Obviously written with the reader in mind, one has to “sort through the fiction to uncover the fact” in what amounted to a precis of his memoirs. The first of these appeared in the January 22nd 1933 edition of The Sunday Dispatch – Entitled “63 jobs in 58 years”, the article read as follows:

“A Rolling Stone may not gather Moss - but it does see life. The vividly picturesque career of Captain The Honourable Arthur Elliott, brother of the Earl of Saint Germans, makes delightful reading. As a younger son of a large family, he set out to see the world, and now, at the age of 58, he is in his 63rd job - as the genial manager of Punch’s Club in Mayfair.



Being the youngest but one of a family of seven was not all jam in the Victorian era. We lived in Cornwall and South Kensington. The former was heavenly and the latter was, to me, horrible. Jenny Lind, the “Swedish Nightingale”, used to come and sing in our drawing room and when royalty dined, I was allowed to look over the stairs.

On occasions I used to go cat-shooting in the squares of South Kensington with J.F. Froude, the great historian - at least, he did the shooting and I was a sort of beater with a hunting crop.

However, I became tired of seeing the same faces around the dining table and looking at the wrong ends of 40 servants as they knelt against chairs every morning at family prayers. One summer we went down to Freshwater, on the Isle of Wight. Tennyson had a house there, and I used to sit at his feet while he wrote poems. I remember him giving me a quill pen to play with and clouting me across the head when I became tiresome. Joining HMS Britannia as a cadet was freedom indeed, in spite of the bullying that went on. Making some wretch, usually myself, run the gauntlet of knotted ropes was the favourite form of sport. In spite of a first class certificate in seamanship, I never rose to be a Nelson as my abysmal ignorance of religious history and freehand drawing failed to pass me out as a Midshipman. How a future Admiral should be able to draw a hare and a bottle of Chianti nestling up to a bunch of grapes, I have never discovered.

Then came Charterhouse, where I spent the years usually devoted to education in playing cricket and racquets. I also created a record, which stands today. Having started a Carthusian career in the upper 4th, I left, after three years, in the lower 4th. Such being my scholastic attainments, I was put as a clerk in the National Penny Bank and was promoted to being a clerk in the Bank of England. There was one fellow in the bank who was human. He was the office boy, and we used to eat the sandwiches provided by my family, spending the luncheon interval in the vaults. £80 a year seems to me an inadequate salary for a young man of adventurous tastes, and I preceded to run a miniature roulette in the vaults. It was surprising how often the clerks had to come out to wash their hands for some days after the game started. The luncheon interval was a riot, and I was clearing £18 to £20 a day before a manager caught - and sacked - me.

The stage seemed to offer possibilities though my father was horrified, and Violet Melmotte (now Mrs Wyatt), who must have been one of the first woman producers, gave me a part as a footman at the Trafalgar Theatre (Duke of York’s) in a play called “Baron Galosh.” After that Sir Charles Wyndham (then Mr Wyndham) gave me a job as an actor which lasted about a year. Tiring of the stage, I started a business for selling dentist sundries with a friend at premises in Vere Street. We only had one “sundry” - a dentist chair which had been sent over as a sample from America. Whatever money we made was from a concoction known as amalgam for filling teeth. We then started the dental paper which is still in existence and sold the business for £1000 after eight months.

London was beginning to get on my nerves, and I signed up with a South African touring company under the direction of a Doctor Harvey. This gentleman had, besides myself, midgets, Miss Beaumont, who sang with one voice and drank with the other; Flip and Flop, two Negros with elephantitis, who did the sand- dance, and Doctor Canaris, a Greek conjurer with long white hair - a nasty piece of work.

So I paid my £30 deposit and off we went. Imagine my surprise, on reaching Cape Town, to find myself billed as “Arthur Eliot, nephew of an Earl, the tallest comedian in the world.” True, I am 6 foot 4, but not a comedian. Another laugh was provided when Dr Harvey put out a bill at a local theatre as follows: Admission: Adults 2 shillings. Adulterers 1 shilling. All went well until the end of the first week, when Dr Harvey skipped with the takings and the midgets. The rest of us went on a tour up-country, and reached an outlandish place called Touws River. Here Doctor Canaris stole the company’s round railway ticket. We were stranded miles from anywhere.

Years later I was Assistant Provost Marshall of Cape Colony and turned up one morning to judge the miscreants of the day. The 1st man to appear was a long haired gentleman, Dr Canaris! “Officer, give that man three years and cut his hair off,” I ordered. “But” began the policeman, “No buts, do what I say.” Dr Canaris was duly marched out and shorn. At the end of the morning's business, I inquired the nature of Canaris’ offence. He had come to apply for permission under the martial law to ride a bicycle after 9 p.m.! Revenge is indeed sweet!

Eventually I gravitated to Johannesburg and drove a Cape cart. Then I was dresser and understudy to EJ Lonnen, the famous gaiety comedian, when rumours of the Jameson raid reached us. I was ordered to raise a Cornish brigade, which by recruiting in the marketplace I succeeded in doing to the tune of 300 men. Each one received £1.00 a day from the Reform Committee. As is well known, Jameson and his men were apprehended and sentenced. The whole thing blew over, but in the meantime, the Cornish brigade, whose courage was not of the highest, had fled. I went down to tell the Reform Committee and was handed £900 pay for my men. Explanations were useless. “Get out,” I was told. “We're busy.” So I did dash with the £900.

After the disaster caused by the explosion of two dynamite trains near Johannesburg, all the magnets, Solly Joel, Abe Bailey, Ecksteen, and Alfred Beit took over the relief word. Solly Joel appointed me Mortuary keeper. It was an awful job - hundreds of people had been blown to pieces, and it was my job to try to fit the remains together into some sort of order for identification by the families.

The second instalment appeared in the January 29th 1933 edition of The Sunday Dispatch, under the heading “All Trades Come Alike To The 63 Job Man”

Captain Eliot, who is a brother of the Earl of Saint Germans, here continues his memories of the 63 jobs he held during his 58 years of crowded life:

“During the time I spent in America. I had many varied occupations. I was for three days a tramway car conductor but was sacked because of a natural reticence in taking fares from pretty girls or poor-looking persons. I was croupier at Canfields famous illegal gaming house - a game of Patience is named after this gentleman. This brought me a salary of $35 a week and is the only good thing that visiting Monarch Monte Carlo has ever done me. A Tailor used to give me clothes to where, and money to wear them and talk about them at smart restaurants and I was told to do a sketch with a woman at Proctors Musical. Unfortunately, my partner was very drunk at our first performance and the curtain was running down on us in the middle of our act. A smart 5th Ave family engaged me as a Butler. I was quite efficient, but, as bad luck would have it, the family included a daughter. The daughter had a flirtatious nature, and I found myself once more down-and-out.

The hardest job of all was stoking in the old North German Lloyd liner Bismarck. I'd signed on as a Steward, but they put me in the stoke-hole. I've acted as Steward, cooks-help, cattleman and potato peeler while working various passages, but believe me, stoking is not funny.

There being not much else doing, I opened a private detective agency in Regent Street. Nothing happened for three days. Then my first client - a man from the Midlands- arrived. He wanted his wife watched, left £100 on deposit, and promised to bring me a photograph. He never returned. Net profit on closing down the business = £80.

The final instalment of Eliot’s reminiscences appeared in the Sunday 5th, 1933 issue of The Sunday Dispatch:

“During the vicissitudes of the various 63 jobs I've performed, I've naturally met many famous people. When I was 11 years old, I made my first bet, and that was with the Lord Chancellor of England, Lord Herschell, who came down to stay at our family seat, Port Eliot, in Cornwall. We were sitting in the garden when a lot of rooks flew overhead. I will bet you one Shilling, I said, that the next lot will come in pairs. Sure enough, by a stroke of luck, they did.

My younger brother always said grace in those days, and one day Doctor Benson, Archbishop of Canterbury, came down to see us. My small brother and the Archbishop began simultaneously. They made three attempts, and then my brother said, Do you mind sitting down? Please? I say grace. The Archbishop, somewhat surprised, proceeded to sit down. Then there was Bishop Gott, of Truro, commonly known as Bishop Forgot, for his absent mindedness. He invited my father and me to lunch one day. We arrived at the appointed time and we were shown around the garden. Just as we were beginning to wonder when lunch would be forthcoming, the bishop showed us the gate and waved us goodbye!

I played cricket several times with W.G. Grace. He was a sly old fox. In one match at the Crystal Palace, Freddie Wilson, who captained Harrow and Cambridge, obstinately stood his ground against all the wiles of the bowling of the Doctor. Just as an over was about to begin, W.G. walked up to him and said “Freddie, this is the first time I've ever seen a wild duck fly over the Crystal Palace.” Wilson looked in the direction indicated, got the sun fully in his eyes, and was bowled next ball. W.G. was a better cricketer than he was a doctor.

Well, it has all been pretty hard, and if I had my time all over again, knowing the form as I do now, I would take up some profession and stick to it. I should have loved to be a lawyer. There's nothing truer than the old saying about the Rolling Stone, and if any young fellow ever reads these looking backs of mine, let me advise him to:
Make a real pal of his father, keep out of debt, watch his health, be courteous to women, work, and see if he can do anything to help the next fellow.

During the three weeks in which I've been writing in the Sunday Dispatch, I've had over 500 letters from old pals from all sorts of places in the world. I can't reply to them all. Personally, I wish I could - but I'll reproduce some of the amusing letters in “My Book” by Arthur Eliot.

Ernie Eliot never got to write that book. The Western Morning News and Daily Gazette on Friday the 9th of October 1936 carried the news that Captain, the Honourable Arthur Ernest Henry Eliot, died in a London nursing home last night. He underwent an operation for appendicitis last Saturday. So ended the life of a fascinating and absorbing man, the likes of whom will probably never be seen again. What was his biggest single achievement in life? Probably his ability to have stayed out of gaol despite all the scrapes in which he found himself.

Acknowledgments:
- Port Eliot Family website
- Ancestry and FMP
- Discovery TNA for WWI file
- Various newspapers credited above.

The Honourable Arthur ?? Fascinating read - now I won't need to watch this evening's episode of East Enders! (not that I ever do). Disappointed not to be treated to a view of the "famous beauty".

Ah just found one!

I don't like to disappoint so here she is David

Picture courtesy of the National Gallery

Mabel Louisa Eliot (née Dean-Paul) (1872-1919), Former wife of Thomas James Atherton, and later wife of Hon. Arthur Ernest Henry Eliot; daughter of Sir Edward Dean-Paul, 4th Bt. Sitter in 1 portrait.

Rory - I like yours much better than the one I found - see update to my previous post. David.