Still I hope that my work may help to show to posterity through the mouths of many witnesses what was the state of the agriculture and the farmers of England at the mencement of the twentieth century。 I trust； therefore； that should my novels be forgotten in the passage of years； “Rural England” and my other books on agriculture may still serve to keep my memory green。
Now I will close this introduction and get to my story。 I fear that the reader may think it all somewhat egotistical； but unfortunately that is a fault inherent in an autobiography； and one without which it would be more or less futile。
Ditchingham：
August 10； 1911。
Chapter 1 CHILDHOOD
Danish origin of the Haggards — Early history in Herts and Norfolk — H。 R。 H。‘s father and mother — His birth at Bradenham； Norfolk — Early characteristics — First school — Garsington Rectory； Oxon； and Farmer Quatermain — Lively times at Dunkirk — Adventure at Treport — Cologne — His uncle Fowle。
There has always been a tradition in my family that we sprang from a certain Sir Andrew Ogard； or Agard； or Haggard （I believe his name is spelt in all three ways in a single contemporaneous document）； a Danish gentleman of the famous Guildenstjerne family whose seat was at Aagaard in Jutland。
About a year ago I visited this place while I was making researches for my book； “Rural Denmark。” It is a wild； wind…swept plain dotted with tumuli dating from unknown times。 There by the old manor house stand the moated ruins of the castle which was burnt in the Peasant’s War； I believe when Sir Andrew’s elder brother was its lord。 Here the Guildenstjerne family remained for generations and in the neighbouring church their arms； which are practically the same as those we bear today； are everywhere to be seen。
This Sir Andrew was a very remarkable man。 He appears to have e from Denmark with nothing and to have died possessed of manors in eleven English counties； besides much money and the Danish estate which he seems to have inherited。2 Also he distinguished himself greatly in the French wars of the time of Henry VI； where he held high mand under the Duke of Bedford； whose executor he subsequently became。 Moreover； he did not neglect his spiritual welfare； since； together with his father…inlaw； Sir John Clifton； he erected one of the towers of Wymondham Church； in which he is buried on the north side of the high altar； and bequeathed to the said church “a piece of the True Cross and a piece of the Thorns of the Crown。”
2 See Carthew’s History of West and East Bradenham； pp。 87…89。
I regret to have to add that there is at present no actual proof of the descent of my family from this Sir Andrew。 Among the other manors that he possessed； however； was that of Rye in Hertfordshire； where our arms are still to be seen over the gateway of Rye House； which he appears to have built； that afterwards became famous in connection with the celebrated Rye House Plot。
The Haggard family reappears at Ware within a few miles of the Rye House in the year 1561； in the person of a churchwarden and freeholder of the town； which suggests that he was a citizen of some importance。 At Ware they remained for about 150 years。 To this I can testify； for once finding myself in that town with an hour to spare I went through the registers； in which the name of Haggard occurs frequently。 One member of the family； I recollect； had caused a number of his children to be baptised on the same day； Oct。 28； 1688； though whether this was because he suddenly became reconciled to the Church after a period of alienation； or is to be accounted for by a quarrel with the clergyman； I cannot tell。 Or had the civil wars anything to do with the matter？
Subsequently the family moved to Old Ford House； St。 Mary Stratford…le…Bow； where； I believe； they owned property which； if they had kept it； would have made them very rich today。
I recollect my father telling me a story of how one of them； I think it must have been John Haggard who died in 1776； my great； great； great…grandfather； sold the Bow property and moved to Bennington in Hertfordshire because of a burglary that took place at his house which seems to have frightened him very much。 His son； William Henry； settled in Norwich； and is buried in St。 John’s Maddermarket in that city。 His only son； also named William Henry； my great…grandfather； after living a while at Knebworth； Herts； bought Bradenham Hall in this county of Norfolk。 It would seem； oddly enough； that Bradenham once belonged to old Sir Andrew Ogard； or Agard； in right of his wife； but whether this circumstance had or had not anything to do with its purchase by my great…grandfather I cannot say。
His son； William Haggard； like some others of the family； was concerned in banking in Russia； and in 1816 married a Russian lady； the eldest daughter and co…heiress of James Meybohm of St。 Petersburg。 My father； William Meybohm Rider Haggard； was the eldest child of this union。 He was born at St。 Petersburg April 19； 1817； and in 1844 married my mother； Ella； the elder daughter and co…heiress of Bazett Doveton； of the Bombay Civil Service； who was born at Bombay in June 1819。
I am the eighth child of the family of ten — seven sons and three daughters — who were born to my father and mother。 As it chanced I first saw the light （on June 22； 1856）； not at Bradenham Hall； which at the time was let； but at the Wood Farm on that property whither； on her return from France； my mother retired to be confined。 A few years ago I visited the room in which the interesting event took place。 It is a typical farmhouse upper chamber； very pleasant in its way； and to the fact of my appearance there I have always been inclined； rather fancifully perhaps； to attribute the strong agricultural tastes which I believe I alone of my family possess。
Here I will tell you a little story which shows how untrustworthy even contemporary evidence may be。 On the occasion of this visit I was acpanied by a friend； Sir Frederick Wilson； and his niece； who were anxious to see my birthplace。 Now near to the Wood Farm at Bradenham stands another farm； which for some unknown reason I had got into my head to be the real spot； and as such I showed it to my friends。 When I had finished a farmer； the late James Adcock； who was standing by and who remembered the event； ejaculated：
“What be you a…talking of； Mr。 Rider？ You weren’t born there at all； you were born yinder。”
“Of course；” I said； “I remember；” and led the way to the Wood Farm with every confidence； where I showed the window of the birth…chamber。
As I was doing so an old lady thrust her head out of the said window and called out：
“Whatever be you a…talking of； Mr。 Rider？ You weren’t born in this ’ere room； you were born in that room yinder。”
Then amidst general laughter I retired disfited。 Such； I repeat； is often the value of even contemporary evidence； although it is true that in this case James Adcock and the old lady were the real contemporary witnesses； since a man can scarcely be expected to remember the room in which he was born。
It seems that I was a whimsical child。 At least Hocking； my mother’s maid； a handsome； vigorous； black…eyed； raw…boned Cornishwoman who spent most of her active life in the service of the family； informed me in after years that nothing would induce me to go to sleep unless a clean napkin in a certain way was placed under my head； which napkin I called “an ear。” To this day I have dim recollections of crying bitterly until this “ear” was brought to me。 Also I was stupid。 Indeed； although she always indignantly denied the story in after years； I remember when I was about seven my dear mother declaring that I was as heavy as lead in body and mind。
I fear that I was more or less of a dunderhead at lessons。 Even my letters presented difficulties to me； and I well recollect a few years later being put through an examination by my future brother…inlaw； the Rev。 Charles Maddison Green； with the object of ascertaining what amount of knowledge I had acquired at a day school in London； where we then were living at 24 Leinster Square。
The results of this examination were so appalling that when he was apprised of them my indignant father burst into the room where I sat resigned to fate； and； in a voice like to that of an angry bull； roared out at me that I was “only fit to be a greengrocer。” Even then I wondered why this affront should be put upon a useful trade。 After the row was over I went for a walk with my brother Andrew who was two years older than myself and who； it appeared； had assisted at my disfiture from behind a door。 Just ain street； I think it is Westbourne Grove — at any rate in those days Whiteley had a single little shop not far off at which my mother used to deal — there is； or was； a fruit and vegetable store with no glass in the window。 My brother stood contemplating it for a long while。 At last he said：
“I say； old fellow； when you bee a greengrocer； I hope you’ll let me have oranges cheap！”
To this day I have never quite forgiven Andrew for that most heartless remark。
After all it was not perhaps strange that I did not learn much at these London day schools — for I went to two of them。 The first I left suddenly。 It was managed by the head master and an usher whose names I have long forgotten。 The usher was a lanky； red…haired； pale…faced man whom we all hated because of his violent temper and injustice。 On one occasion when his back was turned to the class to which I belonged； that I presume was the lowest； I amused myself and my panions by shaking my little fists at him； whereon they laughed。 The usher wheeled round and asked why we were laughing； when some mean boy piped out：
“Please； sir； because Haggard is shaking his fists at you。”
He called me to him and I perceived that he was trembling with rage。
“You young brute！” he said。 “I’ll see you in your grave before you shake your fists at me again。”
Then he doubled his own and； striking me first on one side of the head and then on the other； knocked me all the way down the long room and finally over a chair into a heap of slates in a corner； where I lay a while almost senseless。 I recovered and went home。 Here my eldest sister Ella； noticing my bruised and dazed