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A Prince of the Captivity
This is the epic story of one man's courage. Adam Melfort is an officer and a gentleman. A brilliant career lies ahead of him until he is imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. Afterwards, Adam embarks on daring missions in the service of his country. Dangerous work behind enemy lines in World War I and espionage in 1920s Germany are adventures he bravely undertakes.
346 pages, Paperback
Published January 1, 2001
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72 people want to read
About the author
John Buchan
1,686 books464 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name.
John Buchan was a Scottish novelist, historian, and Unionist politician who served as Governor General of Canada, the 15th since Canadian Confederation.
As a youth, Buchan began writing poetry and prose, fiction and non-fiction, publishing his first novel in 1895 and ultimately writing over a hundred books of which the best known is The Thirty-Nine Steps. After attending Glasgow and Oxford universities, he practised as a barrister. In 1901, he served as a private secretary to Lord Milner in southern Africa towards the end of the Boer War. He returned to England in 1903, continued as a barrister and journalist. He left the Bar when he joined Thomas Nelson and Sons publishers in 1907. During the First World War, he was, among other activities, Director of Information in 1917 and later Head of Intelligence at the newly-formed Ministry of Information. He was elected Member of Parliament for the Combined Scottish Universities in 1927.
In 1935, King George V, on the advice of Canadian Prime Minister R. B. Bennett, appointed Buchan to succeed the Earl of Bessborough as Governor General of Canada and two months later raised him to the peerage as 1st Baron Tweedsmuir. He occupied the post until his death in 1940. Buchan promoted Canadian unity and helped strengthen the sovereignty of Canada constitutionally and culturally. He received a state funeral in Canada before his ashes were returned to the United Kingdom.
John Buchan was a Scottish novelist, historian, and Unionist politician who served as Governor General of Canada, the 15th since Canadian Confederation.
As a youth, Buchan began writing poetry and prose, fiction and non-fiction, publishing his first novel in 1895 and ultimately writing over a hundred books of which the best known is The Thirty-Nine Steps. After attending Glasgow and Oxford universities, he practised as a barrister. In 1901, he served as a private secretary to Lord Milner in southern Africa towards the end of the Boer War. He returned to England in 1903, continued as a barrister and journalist. He left the Bar when he joined Thomas Nelson and Sons publishers in 1907. During the First World War, he was, among other activities, Director of Information in 1917 and later Head of Intelligence at the newly-formed Ministry of Information. He was elected Member of Parliament for the Combined Scottish Universities in 1927.
In 1935, King George V, on the advice of Canadian Prime Minister R. B. Bennett, appointed Buchan to succeed the Earl of Bessborough as Governor General of Canada and two months later raised him to the peerage as 1st Baron Tweedsmuir. He occupied the post until his death in 1940. Buchan promoted Canadian unity and helped strengthen the sovereignty of Canada constitutionally and culturally. He received a state funeral in Canada before his ashes were returned to the United Kingdom.
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
August 27, 2020
The book opens in one of Buchan’s oft-used settings – a gentleman’s club – with a group of its members discussing the trial of Adam Melfort for forgery. Despite his defence counsel being none other than Sir Edward Leithen (first introduced in The Power House), Adam is found guilty and sent to prison. It means the end of a brilliant military career. The group cannot understand why Melfort should do something so out of character and, moreover, seem to welcome the punishment meted out to him.
When the point of view switches to Adam, the reader learns the motive behind his actions: a combination of misplaced guilt, chivalry and grief. As he languishes in prison, his one comfort is a repeated dream in which he revisits the Scottish island owned by his family where he spent childhood holidays. However, his sense of guilt is such that he feels the need to earn the right to go back there once his sentence is served. This leads him to embark on a series of adventures, seemingly heedless of the danger involved.
The first of these sees him go undercover in occupied territory during the First World War, gathering information useful to the Allies but also spreading misinformation. It’s no doubt informed by John Buchan’s own wartime roles as Director of Intelligence and Minister of Information. Next, Adam embarks on a mission to rescue Falconet, an American millionaire, lost in the frozen wastes of the Arctic. The scenes in which the two men over-winter in a small cave are brilliantly described.
Adam comes back from that experience convinced his role is to seek out the leadership the world needs in order to avoid another war, to be a “midwife to genius” as a character puts it. It is at this point he meets Warren Creevey who, like other Buchan villains, is possessed of a superlative intellect but not the moral scruples to go with it. As one character observes, “Tonight two remarkable men for the first time saw each his eternal enemy”. Unfortunately, the story then gets rather bogged down for a time as Adam explores contemporary politics and trade unionism in the city of Birkpool.
Things pick up again when the focus moves to Germany. Adam once more uses his remarkable linguistic skills and his ability to assume different identities to protect the Chancellor of Germany (a man he first met in very different circumstances during the war) from enemies who seek to prevent his attendance at a conference that might mean the difference between peace or another European war.
A Prince of the Captivity is at its best in the episodes of adventure, culminating in the final climactic scenes in the Alps, in which an earlier prophecy that “somewhen, somewhere, somehow you will do battle with him” becomes reality. The end of the book features familiar Buchan themes of sacrifice and duty. The less successful and, frankly, somewhat tedious parts of the novel are, as some critics have observed, a case of Buchan trying to cram too many ideas into one book. I wish also that he had relied less on racial stereotypes in his depiction of some of the characters. Nevertheless, the bits that are good are VERY good.
When the point of view switches to Adam, the reader learns the motive behind his actions: a combination of misplaced guilt, chivalry and grief. As he languishes in prison, his one comfort is a repeated dream in which he revisits the Scottish island owned by his family where he spent childhood holidays. However, his sense of guilt is such that he feels the need to earn the right to go back there once his sentence is served. This leads him to embark on a series of adventures, seemingly heedless of the danger involved.
The first of these sees him go undercover in occupied territory during the First World War, gathering information useful to the Allies but also spreading misinformation. It’s no doubt informed by John Buchan’s own wartime roles as Director of Intelligence and Minister of Information. Next, Adam embarks on a mission to rescue Falconet, an American millionaire, lost in the frozen wastes of the Arctic. The scenes in which the two men over-winter in a small cave are brilliantly described.
Adam comes back from that experience convinced his role is to seek out the leadership the world needs in order to avoid another war, to be a “midwife to genius” as a character puts it. It is at this point he meets Warren Creevey who, like other Buchan villains, is possessed of a superlative intellect but not the moral scruples to go with it. As one character observes, “Tonight two remarkable men for the first time saw each his eternal enemy”. Unfortunately, the story then gets rather bogged down for a time as Adam explores contemporary politics and trade unionism in the city of Birkpool.
Things pick up again when the focus moves to Germany. Adam once more uses his remarkable linguistic skills and his ability to assume different identities to protect the Chancellor of Germany (a man he first met in very different circumstances during the war) from enemies who seek to prevent his attendance at a conference that might mean the difference between peace or another European war.
A Prince of the Captivity is at its best in the episodes of adventure, culminating in the final climactic scenes in the Alps, in which an earlier prophecy that “somewhen, somewhere, somehow you will do battle with him” becomes reality. The end of the book features familiar Buchan themes of sacrifice and duty. The less successful and, frankly, somewhat tedious parts of the novel are, as some critics have observed, a case of Buchan trying to cram too many ideas into one book. I wish also that he had relied less on racial stereotypes in his depiction of some of the characters. Nevertheless, the bits that are good are VERY good.
January 27, 2022
Promised much, but got a bit bogged down in the middle. The start was great, the end was lively, but the middle was slow and stodgy. And there were unexplained bits, not in a good way.
The main character was interesting, but lacked warmth. Espionage, war and politics, but dull by Buchan’s standards. Reminded me a little of the feeling of another of his, Sick Heart River.
The main character was interesting, but lacked warmth. Espionage, war and politics, but dull by Buchan’s standards. Reminded me a little of the feeling of another of his, Sick Heart River.
August 24, 2025
I’m afraid I rather took against the super hero of this novel within the first few pages. Here was, yet again, a Richard Hannay style protagonist but even more dazzlingly accomplished.
Adam Melfort is top of the class at school, in the military, in life. He owns a luxury pad in the classiest address in London (Eaton Square where James Bond also lived), a glamorous (though stone hearted) High Society wife and his own private island in Bonnie Scotland.
He’s SAS-style fit and runs a 30-mile assault course without breaking a sweat, literally, which means he can go straight to a posh afternoon tea party afterwards, without even needing to change his clothes or freshen up.
Am I not human in finding this man intensely irritating! And then on top of all these achievements, he heroically, uncomplainingly sacrifices everything - his career, name, honour - when he takes the rap and serves a jail sentence for his monumentally ungrateful wife who tampered with a cheque to save herself from financial ruin.
In fact, I started suspecting something a bit fishy about this hero with his ever growing list of super powers. Did I mention that he was also fluent in every European language - and dialect - including the hill tongue of local shepherds and the vernacular of Flemish workers? Oh, and he reads Early Icelandic sagas, in the original, as relaxation.
And then there are his heroics behind enemy lines, in Flanders, in Berlin itself, and in the German-occupied Middle East. He’s the Scarlet Pimpernel of World War I, the master of disguise and deception, carrying out extraordinarily daring acts of espionage and sabotage under the very noses of the Germans.
For a stiff upper lip, military male of Edwardian cast, Adam is, however, remarkably human and emotional in his relationship with his little boy. Following his child’s death from meningitis, we’d now probably diagnose Adam’s behaviour as someone traumatised with survivor’s guilt. Perhaps this explains why he doesn’t seem to have any emotional relationships - just entirely transactional ones.
Actually, much of the narrative in the first part of the novel is transactional in style, as well. It often reads more like a series of factual reports than a novel. His experiences behind enemy lines, and the perilous Arctic adventure, rather reminded me of accounts of the exploits of TE Lawrence (of Arabia) and the journals of polar explorer, Shackleton. But even war and the wilderness aren’t entirely, unremittingly grim. There are some surprisingly lyrical passages, for example, the descriptions of the weird light effects and ice landscapes of Greenland.
The middle section of the book is more like a conventional novel. Our hero Adam goes undercover to experience first hand real life for ordinary working people in the 1920s. A rather confusing array of two-dimensional characters - ranging from foundry workers to landed gentry - are introduced who speechify a great deal about politics and socio-economic conditions. It’s mildly interesting as a state of the nation summary of the period immediately following the First World War but not exactly compulsive reading and I sometimes found my attention wandering.
By this time it’s clear that Adam, a little bit obsessed by the idea that he’s fulfilling some grand destiny, is on a mission to track down a new kind of leader to help transform the country. Potential candidates for this star role include a trade unionist, a priest and a young aristocrat - but all prove disappointingly human. Adam has a messianic belief in the type of new leader he’s looking for - someone charismatic and inspirational who will rise above grubby, everyday politics and sort out the world’s problems.
I have to say, this made me slightly uncomfortable - Adam’s obsession with the idea of a strong, charismatic leader who will take control and save civilisation. At the time Buchan was writing this novel, this kind of leader was already in power in Nazi Germany and Communist Russia, controlling people with terrifying power and violence.
And it’s Germany, in the troubled years leading up to Hitler’s takeover of power, that’s the setting for the final part of the novel. Our hero Adam, in disguise once again, is now an undercover agent protecting the Chancellor of the weak Weimar Government from both Communist and Nazi (or “Iron Hand”) threats and violence.
The final pages of the novel see Adam back in disguise again, in a plot involving his long-term opponent, Warren Creevey, a global financier who threatens to undermine Adam’s lofty hopes for peace and fair play in the world.
Adam and Warren finally get to confront each other in a deserted Alpine hotel. But there are other more deadly forces of evil at play (in the form of bunch of baddies who turn up James Bond style for a final shoot-out) and Adam finally fulfils his destiny by saving Creevey’s life as well as his soul. This involves a nerve-shredding escape over a vertiginous mountain pass and a man-made avalanche that involves a surprising sacrifice.
I thought these last chapters were the best in the novel by far - tense, exciting and unexpected. For the first time in over 300 pages the story seemed to develop pace and zip. The ending had all the page-turning thrills and spills of earlier Richard Hannay adventures.
I finished the book with a sense of both enjoyment and relief. It could have been a stonking good read in the best of Buchan tradition. But it had just too many longueurs, too many deviations and too much high-minded moralising and politicking. I rather think his editor could have done a lot more editing to cut the novel down and sharpen its focus.
If the Five-Star system is essentially a guide to the question “Would I read this book again?” then I’m giving this curiosity of a novel two stars. To be honest I’d prefer to re-read his more famous (and shorter) novels than try to read this one again.
PS. Oh yes, oh dear, and then there are all those poisonous, racist tropes … A lofty-principled hero whose new moral code seems to endorse anti-semitism just at the point that Hitler is making very clear his intent for Jewish people …
Adam Melfort is top of the class at school, in the military, in life. He owns a luxury pad in the classiest address in London (Eaton Square where James Bond also lived), a glamorous (though stone hearted) High Society wife and his own private island in Bonnie Scotland.
He’s SAS-style fit and runs a 30-mile assault course without breaking a sweat, literally, which means he can go straight to a posh afternoon tea party afterwards, without even needing to change his clothes or freshen up.
Am I not human in finding this man intensely irritating! And then on top of all these achievements, he heroically, uncomplainingly sacrifices everything - his career, name, honour - when he takes the rap and serves a jail sentence for his monumentally ungrateful wife who tampered with a cheque to save herself from financial ruin.
In fact, I started suspecting something a bit fishy about this hero with his ever growing list of super powers. Did I mention that he was also fluent in every European language - and dialect - including the hill tongue of local shepherds and the vernacular of Flemish workers? Oh, and he reads Early Icelandic sagas, in the original, as relaxation.
And then there are his heroics behind enemy lines, in Flanders, in Berlin itself, and in the German-occupied Middle East. He’s the Scarlet Pimpernel of World War I, the master of disguise and deception, carrying out extraordinarily daring acts of espionage and sabotage under the very noses of the Germans.
For a stiff upper lip, military male of Edwardian cast, Adam is, however, remarkably human and emotional in his relationship with his little boy. Following his child’s death from meningitis, we’d now probably diagnose Adam’s behaviour as someone traumatised with survivor’s guilt. Perhaps this explains why he doesn’t seem to have any emotional relationships - just entirely transactional ones.
Actually, much of the narrative in the first part of the novel is transactional in style, as well. It often reads more like a series of factual reports than a novel. His experiences behind enemy lines, and the perilous Arctic adventure, rather reminded me of accounts of the exploits of TE Lawrence (of Arabia) and the journals of polar explorer, Shackleton. But even war and the wilderness aren’t entirely, unremittingly grim. There are some surprisingly lyrical passages, for example, the descriptions of the weird light effects and ice landscapes of Greenland.
The middle section of the book is more like a conventional novel. Our hero Adam goes undercover to experience first hand real life for ordinary working people in the 1920s. A rather confusing array of two-dimensional characters - ranging from foundry workers to landed gentry - are introduced who speechify a great deal about politics and socio-economic conditions. It’s mildly interesting as a state of the nation summary of the period immediately following the First World War but not exactly compulsive reading and I sometimes found my attention wandering.
By this time it’s clear that Adam, a little bit obsessed by the idea that he’s fulfilling some grand destiny, is on a mission to track down a new kind of leader to help transform the country. Potential candidates for this star role include a trade unionist, a priest and a young aristocrat - but all prove disappointingly human. Adam has a messianic belief in the type of new leader he’s looking for - someone charismatic and inspirational who will rise above grubby, everyday politics and sort out the world’s problems.
I have to say, this made me slightly uncomfortable - Adam’s obsession with the idea of a strong, charismatic leader who will take control and save civilisation. At the time Buchan was writing this novel, this kind of leader was already in power in Nazi Germany and Communist Russia, controlling people with terrifying power and violence.
And it’s Germany, in the troubled years leading up to Hitler’s takeover of power, that’s the setting for the final part of the novel. Our hero Adam, in disguise once again, is now an undercover agent protecting the Chancellor of the weak Weimar Government from both Communist and Nazi (or “Iron Hand”) threats and violence.
The final pages of the novel see Adam back in disguise again, in a plot involving his long-term opponent, Warren Creevey, a global financier who threatens to undermine Adam’s lofty hopes for peace and fair play in the world.
Adam and Warren finally get to confront each other in a deserted Alpine hotel. But there are other more deadly forces of evil at play (in the form of bunch of baddies who turn up James Bond style for a final shoot-out) and Adam finally fulfils his destiny by saving Creevey’s life as well as his soul. This involves a nerve-shredding escape over a vertiginous mountain pass and a man-made avalanche that involves a surprising sacrifice.
I thought these last chapters were the best in the novel by far - tense, exciting and unexpected. For the first time in over 300 pages the story seemed to develop pace and zip. The ending had all the page-turning thrills and spills of earlier Richard Hannay adventures.
I finished the book with a sense of both enjoyment and relief. It could have been a stonking good read in the best of Buchan tradition. But it had just too many longueurs, too many deviations and too much high-minded moralising and politicking. I rather think his editor could have done a lot more editing to cut the novel down and sharpen its focus.
If the Five-Star system is essentially a guide to the question “Would I read this book again?” then I’m giving this curiosity of a novel two stars. To be honest I’d prefer to re-read his more famous (and shorter) novels than try to read this one again.
PS. Oh yes, oh dear, and then there are all those poisonous, racist tropes … A lofty-principled hero whose new moral code seems to endorse anti-semitism just at the point that Hitler is making very clear his intent for Jewish people …
March 26, 2019
First published in 1933, 'A Prince of the Captivity' is an adventure story with much in common with his previous adventure stories. Where it scores over others is in its use of a flawed character, driven by his flaws in ways in which the results are extremely noble. The plot is somewhat episodic, jumping from country to country as the character engages in spying, rescues, and doing time in prison - naturally for a crime that he didn't commit! The episodic format may be irritating to some, but I found that tis made faster in pace than most Buchan novels. The difference in style was a surprising plus, and I regard it as one of Buchan's best out of those read by me so far.
March 17, 2018
A pretty eccentric novel, as if a few short stories were stuck together, though it does have an overall coherence. Published in 1933 it gives an interesting view of European politics at the time, predicting the rise of Hitler and World War Two (without specifying the name or the exact nature of the disaster).
March 3, 2023
"There only remained the trivial business of dying."
Sometimes I like to think I'm a good writer... and then I read a final sentence like that, and I weep at Buchan's mastery of the craft.
4.5 stars. The middle act was painfully slow (but a necessary buildup.)
Sometimes I like to think I'm a good writer... and then I read a final sentence like that, and I weep at Buchan's mastery of the craft.
4.5 stars. The middle act was painfully slow (but a necessary buildup.)
February 2, 2018
All time high!
October 1, 2020
A favourite book.
December 23, 2024
A bit fey. Very much the Ultimate Self Sacrifce
July 7, 2025
An unusual Buchan thriller, with deeply involving early chapters set during and after World War I and a slowly building social and political drama set in the interwar years that culminates in a confrontation with what are clearly supposed to be Nazis. Full review for John Buchan June on the blog.
August 18, 2017
John Buchan, a late-blooming inheritor of the literature of Kipling and Scott, is best known for a minor thriller, the Thirty-nine Steps, and for its four sequels featuring Richard Hannay. He also wrote A Prince of the Captivity which, for my money, is the apotheosis of the Hannay books.
As the story begins, Adam Melfort is on trial for forgery. His friends, and there are many, do not believe his confession, and we quickly learn that they are right. His empty-headed wife has forged the check which he admits to. He goes to prison. She goes free, flittering on through her empty life, divorces Adam, and disappears out of the story.
A Prince of the Captivity is not a story about external events, but about what happens in Adam’s mind and soul as he tries to rebuild his life in a new pattern. However, the external events that forge Melfort’s soul are drawn from the toolbox of a skillful writer of thrillers.
A Prince of the Captivity, published in 1933, moves beyond the concerns of the Hannay books. It reeks of discontent, and hidden in the background is the muffled sound of boots marching and armies mobilizing. Adam Melfort has sacrificed his future to save his wife; and now he has to sacrifice anew. England has sacrificed to win the Great War; now it will have to sacrifice again.
Most critics were not kind to A Prince of the Captivity. I’m not surprised. Melding a thriller, an apotheosis of a personal moral code, and a vague prophesy of coming disaster is not easy. Perhaps it is not possible. Buchan didn’t do a perfect job of it, but he did a fine one. A Prince of the Captivity is my favorite of the dozen or so Buchan’s I have read.
You can find a longer review at http://sydlogsdon.com/2016/05/26/156-...
As the story begins, Adam Melfort is on trial for forgery. His friends, and there are many, do not believe his confession, and we quickly learn that they are right. His empty-headed wife has forged the check which he admits to. He goes to prison. She goes free, flittering on through her empty life, divorces Adam, and disappears out of the story.
A Prince of the Captivity is not a story about external events, but about what happens in Adam’s mind and soul as he tries to rebuild his life in a new pattern. However, the external events that forge Melfort’s soul are drawn from the toolbox of a skillful writer of thrillers.
A Prince of the Captivity, published in 1933, moves beyond the concerns of the Hannay books. It reeks of discontent, and hidden in the background is the muffled sound of boots marching and armies mobilizing. Adam Melfort has sacrificed his future to save his wife; and now he has to sacrifice anew. England has sacrificed to win the Great War; now it will have to sacrifice again.
Most critics were not kind to A Prince of the Captivity. I’m not surprised. Melding a thriller, an apotheosis of a personal moral code, and a vague prophesy of coming disaster is not easy. Perhaps it is not possible. Buchan didn’t do a perfect job of it, but he did a fine one. A Prince of the Captivity is my favorite of the dozen or so Buchan’s I have read.
You can find a longer review at http://sydlogsdon.com/2016/05/26/156-...
October 3, 2009
I read this a couple-3 years ago and had to re-read it.:) The story-line is a bit slow at times, but this is definitely one of Buchan's masterpieces.
There ARE a couple spots that made me wonder what the author was trying to say (i.e. suggesting lovers between a married woman and the main character)... but otherwise this story is fine.:)
There ARE a couple spots that made me wonder what the author was trying to say (i.e. suggesting lovers between a married woman and the main character)... but otherwise this story is fine.:)
November 21, 2014
Having read (I think) all of Buchan's fiction I give this estimable book only three stars because the adventures are loosely linked (well,
Alan Furst does that too) but for Buchan fans this is one to dig up if you haven't. It's a Beau Geste theme: honor, sacrifice, duty but wrung out a little too dry. Don't start reading J.B. with this book.
Alan Furst does that too) but for Buchan fans this is one to dig up if you haven't. It's a Beau Geste theme: honor, sacrifice, duty but wrung out a little too dry. Don't start reading J.B. with this book.
Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews