that great man may have found its way
into the character of David Claridge. The true origin of David Claridge,
however, may be found in a short story called 'All the World's Mad', in
Donovan Pasha, which was originally published by Lady Randolph Churchill
in an ambitious but defunct magazine called 'The Anglo-Saxon Review'.
The truth is that David Claridge had his origin in a fairly close
understanding of, and interest in, Quaker life. I had Quaker relatives
through the marriage of a connection of my mother, and the original of
Benn Claridge, the uncle of David, is still alive, a very old man, who
in my boyhood days wore the broad brim and the straight preacher-like
coat of the old-fashioned Quaker. The grandmother of my wife was also a
Quaker, and used the "thee" and "thou" until the day of her death.

Here let me say that criticism came to me from several quarters both
in England and America on the use of these words thee and thou, and
statements were made that the kind of speech which I put into David
Claridge's mouth was not Quaker speech. For instance, they would not
have it that a Quaker would say, "Thee will go with me"--as though they
were ashamed of the sweet inaccuracy of the objective pronoun being used
in the nominative; but hundreds of times I have myself heard Quakers
use "thee" in just such a way in England and America. The facts are,
however, that Quakers differ extensively in their habits, and there grew
up in England among the Quakers in certain districts a sense of shame
for false grammar which, to say the least, was very childish. To be
deliberately and boldly ungrammatical, when you serve both euphony and
simplicity, is merely to give archaic charm, not to be guilty of an
offence. I have friends in Derbyshire who still say "Thee thinks,"
etc., and I must confess that the picture of a Quaker rampant over my
deliberate use of this well-authenticated form of speech produced to
my mind only the effect of an infuriated sheep, when I remembered the
peaceful attribute of Quaker life and character. From another quarter
came the assurance that I was wrong when I set up a tombstone with a
name upon it in a Quaker graveyard. I received a sarcastic letter from
a lady on the borders of Sussex and Surrey upon this point, and I
immediately sent her a first-class railway ticket to enable her to visit
the Quaker churchyard at Croydon, in Surrey, where dead and gone Quakers
have tombstones by the score, and inscripti