A Letter in Support

I first encountered Crale as a boy of nine, during the long summers my family spent at Hartenden. He was my grandfather's butler and governed the household with an authority I later encountered in the Service, the regiment, and Parliament, though seldom with equal competence.

My grandfather, a difficult man to impress, once remarked that Crale was the only person in the house who never required instruction and never offered an opinion unless it was correct. Time revealed a flaw in the judgement, for Crale held opinions upon a surprising range of subjects; he delivered them with such economy that one mistook them for settled facts.

I recall an afternoon, when I must have been ten or eleven, upon which I appeared at table with my collar askew and my hands in a state that Crale later described, with characteristic restraint, as 'agricultural.' He said nothing during the meal, but intercepted me afterwards in the corridor and, in approximately forty-five seconds, explained the purpose of soap, the function of a collar stud, and the impression created by a young gentleman who presented himself as though recently exhumed. I have never forgotten the correction, although on occasion I have wished that I could.

When Crale said that he intended to write down what he had taught in person, I was relieved. Much that was once learned through instruction and correction has slipped from common use. Perfectly capable men have simply never been shown.

Crale explains the work plainly. He has little interest in flattery and none in making an easy task sound difficult.

Encouragement was never much in his line. Clear instruction, he thought, was encouragement enough.

Sir Edward Astley-Pemberton, Bt., KCVO