ABSTRACT
I Was sixteen when Jack, the youngest of the family, was born, less than two months after the death of my sister Dora. He was christened Jerrard, but from the time he could speak he repudiated the name, insisting that he was Jack – and as Jack he was known throughout a life which, gifted as he was, should have been successful, but became a tragedy. Much of the nervous trouble which after adolescence ruined his life I believe can be traced to a pre-natal cause.
