Description: Four Days An Account of a Journey in France made between August 28th and 31st, 1914 by Gerald Spencer Pryse This is the 1932 First Edition A scarce account of the opening phase of the Great War : “I claim only for this book that it may convey a broad and unbiased impression of events as they struck one at the time.” (Preface) Front cover and spine Further images of this book are shown below Publisher and place of publication Dimensions in inches (to the nearest quarter-inch) London: John Lane, The Bodley Head 5 inches wide x 7½ inches tall Edition Length 1932 First Edition [vi] + 305 pages Condition of covers Internal condition Original thin paper-covered red boards blocked in black. The covers are rubbed and, although it is hard to ascertain in the scans, due to the vibrant red, are discoloured with a patchy appearance. The spine ends and corners are bumped. The boards are quite thin and have bowed out considerably at either end. There are no internal markings and the text is clean throughout. However, the paper has tanned a little with age and the edge of the text block is heavily foxed. Dust-jacket present? Other comments No This is an unusual account of the opening phase of the Great War with the principal defects being the heavy fore-edge foxing and significantly bowed covers. Illustrations, maps, etc Contents NONE : No Illustrations are called for; there is one sketch map (shown below) within the text There is a Preface and sixteen untitled chapters Post & shipping information Payment options The packed weight is approximately 550 grams. Full shipping/postage information is provided in a panel at the end of this listing. Payment options : UK buyers: cheque (in GBP), debit card, credit card (Visa, MasterCard but not Amex), PayPal International buyers: credit card (Visa, MasterCard but not Amex), PayPal Full payment information is provided in a panel at the end of this listing. Four Days Preface I claim only for this book that it may convey a broad and unbiased impression of events as they struck one at the time. Turning over my manuscript in the tranquillity of a Scottish house where the fallow deer stand at view on the lawn outside, and an evening walk along the strand may produce no sound more disturbing than the low whistle of widgeon flighting in over the rocks, the thought occurs that it is altogether too crowded a business, too chaotic a jumble of the commonplace and the melodramatic. Yet on consideration that crude, tragic, comic mixture seems of the essence of the thing; and so far true to life. For war, most dreadful of calamities, may justly be compared with a cocktail-shaker, into which perhaps once in a century the nations go willy-nilly; to be well shaken and left to settle into some delectable Silver Streak or Manhattan or Side-car heretofore undreamed of. As for whether humanity will ever be able to procure a bouquet which contains within itself the spirit of an age without first resorting to the shaker—surely this is the subject of constant study in the committee-rooms of the League of Nations. Four Days Excerpt: IN the middle of July the "White Eagle" was steaming south-west by west past Eddystone and the Lizard; then altering her course several more points to the west to make the Scilly Islands, where we settled down to admire the sub-tropical vegetation at Tresco, and to listen to stirring tales of wreckers and phantom lights and cargoes of fruit from the Indies and dead sailors washed up by the waves, all emanating from the lips of the parson's youngest daughter. But this mode was not to last, for the fifth morning found the anchor up and the "White Eagle" bound for Brittany; with as cheerful a party as could be expected in view of the skipper's prediction that we should certainly be shipwrecked if the owner would insist on taking the wheel. I remember the cautious old Scotsman's reply to Talbot's genial suggestion that we might still hope to make St. Malo, "I'm no so sure of that," under a cloudless sky with a hardly perceptible breeze, and our host pulling the wheel a bit over to starboard and a bit to port with all the self-confidence a life devoted to adventure by sea and land can give a man. In addition to Talbot and Violet Clifton, our party included an Irish lady and Ward Beauclerc. Anchor having been dropped in the glittering blue water of the Ranee, the days were divided between expeditions in the motor launch and occasional descents upon the Franco-American society of Dinard; and wound up with a nightly appearance in the Casino. In fact, everything was going on very comfortably when France and Germany went to war over a squabble in the Balkans, and Talbot's French chef departed at an hour's notice to join his regiment. The subsequent entry of England into the fray found the party already broken up, and the "White Eagle" taking in coal for a voyage to the Hebrides; to assume her modest role as a unit in the new fleet of yachts and fishing craft set to patrol the outer islands, in the course of which activity the skipper stood a fair chance of seeing his gloomiest forebodings fulfilled to the letter. Having realized that weeks might elapse before my services as a combatant in the field would be called for, I had actually waited a fortnight when the happy idea of running errands to fill in the gap occurred to me. And at this juncture an invitation to lunch at Number 10 Downing Street seemed likely to help in the realization of my idea, as well as to quench a thirst for news no longer content with repeated assurances that the Montenegrin invasion of Hungary continued to make good progress. So far as personal aims were concerned, everything proved easy. Even before the lunch guests were assembled, Margot Asquith, who never yet failed a friend, had passed me on to her brother Jack, then Under-Secretary for War; and an appointment had been made for half-past three over the road. As for information, a lady as massive as she was exuberant told me straight away that the Expeditionary Army had now been successful in establishing contact with the enemy, and that it would be so much more comfortable for everybody if the spell of fine weather could be maintained. At that stage curiosity might truly be described as epidemic, and significance was attached to every utterance of a Minister. But it was not from Mr. Asquith that one learned of the tears in the eyes of Prince Lichnowsky at the instant of farewell, or of the unshakable resolution of the Cabinet to rub up its French; with the Foreign Secretary even proposing to give up fly-fishing for a time, in order to take lessons in that language. In fact, the Prime Minister seemed more inclined to discuss the prospects of the harvest in Wiltshire. That was before the fish had gone. Subsequently Lord Kitchener's good and bad points were freely exposed by my stout neighbour, and the question arising as to the treatment of Lord Haldane, it was agreed that he alone, with his Territorial Force Association, had made possible the immediate expansion on which everything seemed to depend. One might have learned a great deal more about the respective merits of our Secretaries of State had not an observant girl intervened with the discreet reminder that one of them happened to be sitting a little lower down the table. Following the mild sensation created by this remark, the tone became severely impersonal, and the prospects of the impending conflict were henceforward handled without reference by name even to individuals known to be on the other side of the water. In view of the silence of the only member of the Army Council at our end, it was naturally difficult for amateurs to maintain the needful snap; and only the brilliant and hawklike interventions of our hostess saved the debate from becoming academic. It was wound up by the young lady who had previously spoken with such effect, "I'm sure we're all for turning the tables on the Kaiser" being the sagacious reflection which had the effect of a shower of rain; and drove the principal speakers to the shelter of such more familiar topics as the importance of organizing First Aid centres, and the various rumours emanating from the American Embassy about the adventures of the Duchess of Sutherland in Brussels. It has to be owned that a good deal of what followed escaped me; for I presently found myself near a window, with my attention diverted to the spectacle beneath. Only a few yards beyond the garden wall recruits armed with walking-stick or umbrella were stamping about in batches; while others, drawn up in picturesque if unsoldierly rank, were waiting until some brass hat from over the way should have finished lunch and find time to stroll over and declare them a very fine body of men; an opinion invariably shared by an audience consisting mainly of the weaker sex, which nevertheless defied all efforts of the police to move it on. A few moments later our party broke up, the Prime Minister having withdrawn to the Cabinet rooms with Maurice Bonham-Carter and the one or two members of the Government present. So in company with a friend I picked my way across the Horse Guards Parade, and along a path which winds between ponds and sloping lawns to more open spaces beyond. I remember the park ducks were doing their utmost to carry on under very trying circumstances, anxious to convince the world that things were as they should be; albeit at times excessively flustered by the sharp word of command as sergeant-majors formed their squads into fours and wheeled them in column of route, or extended them into line preliminary to changing direction right or left, or even fell them out beside the water. Such was the animated spectacle presented by St. James's Park one Friday afternoon in the third week of the war. Having separated from my friend, I continued to saunter among the troops and the ducks, awaiting the hour appointed ; and half-past three precisely found me in a corridor at the War Office. Though the interview was not lacking in dignity—beginning, as it did, with an indication that I might not be the only young man anxious to get out to France—it was really a very friendly affair, considering how busy everybody must have been. An official paper being called for, there was a little delay; while Mr. Tennant and I continued to face each other at one of those substantial tables over which the British Constitution requires that State business shall be conducted. Seated in this manner, awaiting the arrival of the Permanent Secretary whose signature was called for, it struck me that a keener sense of humour than I had so far suspected might lurk behind the very imposing moustache upon which my attention was fixed. Notwithstanding this good-natured precipitation on the part of my friends, it was still necessary to wait over the week-end, with rumours becoming hourly more insistent. But no sooner were the arrangements complete than I packed in the greatest haste to catch the boat train next morning; though my presence would not be actually required until the following week. I remember on the brink of departure somebody popped up with a circumstantial story of defeat, and of the destruction of the bridge across the Somme at Abbeville, with Uhlans in hordes overrunning the departments of the Nord and the Pas-de-Calais. Original Publisher’s description: Few people were in a position to see the conditions existing in Northern France in the line of the encircling right wing of the German army during the week following the battle of Mons. Mr Spencer Pryse, travelling on an official mission from England, here describes the adventurous journey he undertook by motor-car from Boulogne, through Amiens, Compiegne to south of Laon in the company of an English chauffeur and a succession of French officers. His extraordinary experiences in the nightmare confusion of a topsy-turvy world included a meeting with two British soldiers near St Pol who had lost their regiment after Mons, a night spent in a village infested by Uhlan cavalry where murder and reprisal were rife, a meeting with a suspected spy whose identity was never discovered, and remarkable sidelights on the retreat of the British Expeditionary Force and the French Fifth and Sixth Armies, with other adventures which read like the wildest fiction, Mr Spencer Pryse's story not only fills in a gap in the history of the period, but records events which up till now have remained unknown. Please note: to avoid opening the book out, with the risk of damaging the spine, some of the pages were slightly raised on the inner edge when being scanned, which has resulted in some blurring to the text and a shadow on the inside edge of the final images. Colour reproduction is shown as accurately as possible but please be aware that some colours are difficult to scan and may result in a slight variation from the colour shown below to the actual colour. In line with eBay guidelines on picture sizes, some of the illustrations may be shown enlarged for greater detail and clarity. U.K. buyers: To estimate the “packed weight” each book is first weighed and then an additional amount of 150 grams is added to allow for the packaging material (all books are securely wrapped and posted in a cardboard book-mailer). The weight of the book and packaging is then rounded up to the nearest hundred grams to arrive at the postage figure. I make no charge for packaging materials and do not seek to profit from postage and packaging. Postage can be combined for multiple purchases. 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International buyers: To estimate the “packed weight” each book is first weighed and then an additional amount of 150 grams is added to allow for the packaging material (all books are securely wrapped and posted in a cardboard book-mailer). The weight of the book and packaging is then rounded up to the nearest hundred grams to arrive at the shipping figure. I make no charge for packaging materials and do not seek to profit from shipping and handling. Shipping can usually be combined for multiple purchases (to a maximum of 5 kilograms in any one parcel with the exception of Canada, where the limit is 2 kilograms). Packed weight of this item : approximately 550 grams International Shipping options: Details of the postage options to various countries (via Air Mail) can be obtained by selecting the “Postage and payments” option at the head of this listing (above) and then selecting your country of residence from the drop-down list. 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Please contact me with your name and address and payment details within seven days of the end of the auction; otherwise I reserve the right to cancel the auction and re-list the item. Finally, this should be an enjoyable experience for both the buyer and seller and I hope you will find me very easy to deal with. If you have a question or query about any aspect (shipping, payment, delivery options and so on), please do not hesitate to contact me. Prospective international buyers should ensure that they are able to provide credit card details or pay by PayPal within 7 days from the end of the auction (or inform me that they will be sending a cheque in GBP drawn on a major British bank). Thank you. (please note that the book shown is for illustrative purposes only and forms no part of this auction) Book dimensions are given in inches, to the nearest quarter-inch, in the format width x height. 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Price: 59.99 GBP
Location: Bridlington
End Time: 2024-04-28T11:18:32.000Z
Shipping Cost: 24.26 GBP
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Item Specifics
Returns Accepted: Returns Accepted
After receiving the item, your buyer should cancel the purchase within: 30 days
Return postage will be paid by: Buyer
Return policy details: If any book is significantly not as described, I will offer a full refund, including return postage. All books are securely wrapped and posted in a cardboard container.
Non-Fiction Subject: History & Military
Format: Hardback
Date of Publication: 1900-1949
Year Printed: 1932
Binding: Hardback
Sub-subject: First World War
Author: Gerald Spencer Pryse
Language: English
Publisher: John Lane, The Bodley Head
Place of Publication: London
Special Attributes: First Edition
