Play Up Play Up And Play The Game - UPDATE

 

You'll recall Great Britain faced off the Mahdi in the 1880s, with General Gordon losing his head in Khartoum and a British Square being partially broken at the battle of Abu Klea, in which the beloved and heroic Col. Burnaby was killed by a Moslem spear to the throat. 

Sir Henry Newboldt wrote a poem immortalizing the thing. Here it is:

There’s a breathless hush in the Close to-night —

Ten to make and the match to win —

A bumping pitch and a blinding light,

An hour to play and the last man in.

And it’s not for the sake of a ribboned coat,

Or the selfish hope of a season’s fame,

But his Captain’s hand on his shoulder smote —

‘Play up! play up! and play the game!’

The sand of the desert is sodden red, —

Red with the wreck of a square that broke; —

The Gatling’s jammed and the Colonel dead,

And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.

The river of death has brimmed his banks,

And England’s far, and Honour a name,

But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks:

‘Play up! play up! and play the game!’

This is the word that year by year,

While in her place the School is set,

Every one of her sons must hear,

And none that hears it dare forget.

This they all with a joyful mind

Bear through life like a torch in flame,

And falling fling to the host behind —

‘Play up! play up! and play the game!’

Play up! Play up! And play the game! It's easy to mock this,  unless you're, ahem, Texas A&M(!), and the beastly place which calls itself "Clifton," but maybe not so fast, punters. Are duty, loyalty, esprit de corps and sheer resolution in the face of the enemy bad things? I will face you, enemy of my people, and I will not give up. Ever. There's a virtue in that, call it fighting spirit if you like.

Your Friend,

LSP

PS. A schoolboy "rallies the ranks." Reflect on the line. Try saying the chorus in that very same, unbroken voice and see where it leads you. Maybe to this:

Colonel Burnaby - Victorian Hero

 

Few today, especially in the States, have heard of him but Colonel Frederick Burnaby was legendary in Victorian England as a hero. And no wonder, standing at an athletic 6.4", this son of a clergyman was famous for being able to vault over billiard tables, bend pokers with his bare hands and much more besides.

Joining the Horseguards in 1859 at the age of 17, Burnaby fast secured a reputation for strength, intellect, good humor and a restless spirit. This drove him to take lengthy periods of leave in adventurous pursuits and that's exactly what they were.

He worked as a war correspondent for  the Times in the Carlist civil war in Spain, went political (intel officer) in Egypt, the Balkans and most famously Central Asia, riding in the latter case some 900 miles on a pony to Khiva. Read the book, if you haven't already, Road to Khiva.

Taking time out from the Army, our adventurous Life Guard went into politics as an old skool Tory in league with Winston Churchill's father, Lord Randolph Churchill. They set up the Primrose League and Burnaby ran unsuccessfully for office in Birmingham.

Undaunted, he rejoined the Colours to serve against the Mahdist uprising in the Sudan where he initially distinguished himself for using a shotgun against the Moslem fanatics, and was mentioned in Dispatches for his bravery, returning home to yet more heroic accolade. But the Sudan wasn't a done thing and Burnaby returned to the fight as part of General Gordon's rescue mission, only to meet his end at the battle of Abu Klea.

He was stabbed through the neck by a Mohammedan spear whilst rescuing wounded men from outside the Square. He died as he lived, a hero, and the soldiers under his command wept at his death. He spoke seven languages, was the first man to cross the English Channel by balloon, authored several books (read Kiva) and was loved by the men he bravely served.

On hearing of his death, Queen Victoria wrote in her diary of "poor, strange Burnaby." Yes readers, there were giants in those days.

Honi Soit,

LSP