Baden-Powell of Mafeking by J.S. Fletcher

It seems to me that the distinguishing quality of Baden-Powell's life and character, so far as the man in the street has been permitted to inform himself about them, is a sense of humour, so strong as to dominate everything else within him. He is essentially the man who, whatever happens, will come up smiling. It is only necessary to look at him to feel sure of that -- there is something in the tall, spare figure, in the well-cut, determined face and quick, observant, fun-loving eyes which gives the beholder a sense of very pleasant security. Everybody who knows Baden-Powell bears testimony to the great and unvarying quality of his humour. It is the humour of a great nature -- now exuberant even to the verge of mischief, now dry and caustic enough to suit an epigram-loving philosopher, now of a whimsical sort that makes it all the more charming. But it has a further quality which may not be overlooked -- it is always kindly. Only a good-natured, sunny-tempered, laughter-loving man could or would have done all the things which are credited to Baden-Powell -- things which have been done more for the pleasure which a great nature always feels in lightening life for others than for the mere desire of provoking laughter. The man who was always ready as regimental officer to amuse his men by his powers as an actor, maker of jokes, and general entertainer, differs only from the schoolboy who was always full of fun and high spirits in the sense that his abilities were being turned to more serious account.

The humour which is Baden-Powell's great characteristic is of much variety and shows itself in the most astonishing ways. It is wonderfully whimsical, and sometimes appears when one would never dream of seeing it. What a whimsical notion, for instance, to assemble the European children, on joining his regiment in India, and march them through the streets to the tune of "The Girl I left behind me," played upon an ocarina! Or to send a dispatch from Mafeking which laconically said, "All well, FOUR hours' bombardment -- one dog killed. " Or to present himself at a picture exhibition, and on being informed that he must leave his stick outside, to turn away and return a moment later limping so badly that the tabooed stick was perforce allowed to accompany him. Or to seat himself, a full-grown English officer, upon a kerb-stone and pretend to sob bitterly until a constable inquired as to his woes, and then to inform the astonished man that he had just fallen out of his nurse's arms, and that the unfeeling woman had gone on and left him. This sort of thing is not merely whimsical, but in the last two cases closely allied to practical joking. But it is characteristic of the man who, when Commandant Eloff surrendered to him at Mafeking, said, "How do you do? -- come and have some dinner."