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Dream Days
By
Kenneth Grahame
Contents
=
In the
matter of general culture and attainments, we youngsters stood on pretty le=
vel
ground. True, it was always happening that one of us would be singled out at
any moment, freakishly, and without regard to his own preferences, to wrest=
le
with the inflections of some idiotic language long rightly dead; while anot=
her,
from some fancied artistic tendency which always failed to justify itself,
might be told off without warning to hammer out scales and exercises, and to
bedew the senseless keys with tears of weariness or of revolt. But in subje=
cts
common to either sex, and held to be necessary even for him whose ambition
soared no higher than to crack a whip in a circus-ring--in geography, for
instance, arithmetic, or the weary doings of kings and queens--each would h=
ave scorned
to excel. And, indeed, whatever our individual gifts, a general dogged
determination to shirk and to evade kept us all at much the same dead level=
,--a
level of Ignorance tempered by insubordination.
Fortunately there existed a wide range of
subjects, of healthier tone than those already enumerated, in which we were
free to choose for ourselves, and which we would have scorned to consider e=
ducation;
and in these we freely followed each his own particular line, often attaini=
ng an
amount of special knowledge which struck our ignorant elders as simply unca=
nny.
For Edward, the uniforms, accoutrements, colours, and mottoes of the regime=
nts
composing the British Army had a special glamour. In the matter of facings =
he
was simply faultless; among chevrons, badges, medals, and stars, he moved
familiarly; he even knew the names of most of the colonels in command; and =
he
would squander sunny hours prone on the lawn, heedless of challenge from bi=
rd
or beast, poring over a tattered Army List. My own accomplishment was of
another character--took, as it seemed to me, a wider and a more untrammelle=
d range.
Dragoons might have swaggered in Lincoln green, riflemen might have donned
sporrans over tartan trews, without exciting notice or comment from me. But=
did
you seek precise information as to the fauna of the American continent, then
you had come to the right shop. Where and why the bison "wallowed"=
;;
how beaver were to be trapped and wild turkeys stalked; the grizzly and how=
to
handle him, and the pretty pressing ways of the constrictor,--in fine, the
haunts and the habits of all that burrowed, strutted, roared, or wriggled
between the Atlantic and the Pacific,--all this knowledge I took for my
province. By the others my equipment was fully recognized. Supposing a book
with a bear-hunt in it made its way into the house, and the atmosphere was
electric with excitement; still, it was necessary that I should first decide
whether the slot had been properly described and properly followed up, ere =
the work
could be stamped with full approval. A writer might have won fame throughout
the civilized globe for his trappers and his realistic backwoods, and all w=
ent
for nothing. If his pemmican were not properly compounded I damned his
achievement, and it was heard no more of.
Harold was hardly old enough to possess a spec=
ial
subject of his own. He had his instincts, indeed, and at bird's-nesting they
almost amounted to prophecy. Where we others only suspected eggs, surmised
possible eggs, hinted doubtfully at eggs in the neighbourhood, Harold went
straight for the right bush, bough, or hole as if he carried a divining-rod.
But this faculty belonged to the class of mere gifts, and was not to be ran=
ked with
Edward's lore regarding facings, and mine as to the habits of prairie-dogs,
both gained by painful study and extensive travel in those "realms of
gold," the Army List and Ballantyne.
Selina's subject, quite unaccountably, happene=
d to
be naval history. There is no laying down rules as to subjects; you just
possess them--or rather, they possess you--and their genesis or protoplasm =
is
rarely to be tracked down. Selina had never so much as seen the sea; but fo=
r that
matter neither had I ever set foot on the American continent, the by-ways of
which I knew so intimately. And just as I, if set down without warning in t=
he
middle of the Rocky Mountains, would have been perfectly at home, so Selina=
, if
a genie had dropped her suddenly on Portsmouth Hard, could have given point=
s to
most of its frequenters. From the days of Blake down to the death of Nelson
(she never condescended further) Selina had taken spiritual part in every
notable engagement of the British Navy; and even in the dark days when she =
had to
pick up skirts and flee, chased by an ungallant De Ruyter or Van Tromp, she=
was
yet cheerful in the consciousness that ere long she would be gleefully
hammering the fleets of the world, in the glorious times to follow. When th=
at
golden period arrived, Selina was busy indeed; and, while loving best to st=
and
where the splinters were flying the thickest, she was also a careful and
critical student of seamanship and of maneuver. She knew the order in which=
the
great line-of-battle ships moved into action, the vessels they respectively
engaged, the moment when each let go its anchor, and which of them had a sp=
ring
on its cable (while not understanding the phrase, she carefully noted the
fact); and she habitually went into an engagement on the quarter-deck of th=
e gallant
ship that reserved its fire the longest.
At the time of Selina's weird seizure I was
unfortunately away from home, on a loathsome visit to an aunt; and my accou=
nt
is therefore feebly compounded from hearsay. It was an absence I never ceas=
ed
to regret--scoring it up, with a sense of injury, against the aunt. There w=
as a
splendid uselessness about the whole performance that specially appealed to=
my
artistic sense. That it should have been Selina, too, who should break out =
this
way--Selina, who had just become a regular subscriber to the "Young
Ladies' Journal," and who allowed herself to be taken out to strange t=
eas
with an air of resignation palpably assumed--this was a special joy, and se=
rved
to remind me that much of this dreaded convention that was creeping over us
might be, after all, only veneer. Edward also was absent, getting licked in=
to
shape at school; but to him the loss was nothing. With his stern practical =
bent
he wouldn't have seen any sense in it--to recall one of his favourite expre=
ssions.
To Harold, however, for whom the gods had always cherished a special
tenderness, it was granted, not only to witness, but also, priestlike, to f=
eed
the sacred fire itself. And if at the time he paid the penalty exacted by t=
he
sordid unimaginative ones who temporarily rule the roast, he must ever afte=
r,
one feels sure, have carried inside him some of the white gladness of the
acolyte who, greatly privileged, has been permitted to swing a censer at the
sacring of the very Mass.
October was mellowing fast, and with it the ye=
ar
itself; full of tender hints, in woodland and hedgerow, of a course well-ni=
gh
completed. From all sides that still afternoon you caught the quick breathi=
ng
and sob of the runner nearing the goal. Preoccupied and possessed, Selina h=
ad strayed
down the garden and out into the pasture beyond, where, on a bit of rising
ground that dominated the garden on one side and the downs with the old
coach-road on the other, she had cast herself down to chew the cud of fancy=
. There
she was presently joined by Harold, breathless and very full of his latest
grievance.
"I asked him not to," he burst out.
"I said if he'd only please wait a bit and Edward would be back soon, =
and
it couldn't matter to him, and the pig wouldn't mind, and Edward'd be pleas=
ed
and everybody'd be happy. But he just said he was very sorry, but bacon did=
n't
wait for nobody. So I told him he was a regular beast, and then I came away.
And--and I b'lieve they're doing it now!"
"Yes, he's a beast," agreed Selina,
absently. She had forgotten all about the pig-killing. Harold kicked away a
freshly thrown-up mole-hill, and prodded down the hole with a stick. From t=
he
direction of Farmer Larkin's demesne came a long-drawn note of sorrow, a th=
in
cry and appeals telling that the stout soul of a black Berkshire pig was
already faring down the stony track to Hades.
"D' you know what day it is?" said
Selina presently, in a low voice, looking far away before her.
Harold did not appear to know, nor yet to care=
. He
had laid open his mole-run for a yard or so, and was still grubbing at it
absorbedly.
"It's Trafalgar Day," went on Selina,
trancedly; "Trafalgar Day--and nobody cares!"
Something in her tone told Harold that he was =
not
behaving quite becomingly. He didn't exactly know in what manner; still, he
abandoned his mole-hunt for a more courteous attitude of attention.
"Over there," resumed Selina--she was
gazing out in the direction of the old highroad--"over there the coach=
es
used to go by. Uncle Thomas was telling me about it the other day. And the
people used to watch for 'em coming, to tell the time by, and p'r'aps to get
their parcels. And one morning--they wouldn't be expecting anything
different--one morning, first there would be a cloud of dust, as usual, and=
then
the coach would come racing by, and then they would know! For the coach wou=
ld
be dressed in laurel, all laurel from stem to stern! And the coachman would=
be wearing
laurel, and the guard would be wearing laurel; and then they would know, th=
en
they would know!"
Harold listened in respectful silence. He would
much rather have been hunting the mole, who must have been a mile away by t=
his
time if he had his wits about him. But he had all the natural instincts of =
a gentleman;
of whom it is one of the principal marks, if not the complete definition, n=
ever
to show signs of being bored.
Selina rose to her feet, and paced the turf
restlessly with a short quarter-deck walk.
"Why can't we do something?" she bur=
st
out presently. "He--he did everything--why can't we do anything for
him?"
"Who did everything?" inquired Harol=
d,
meekly. It was useless wasting further longings on that mole. Like the dead=
, he
travelled fast.
"Why, Nelson, of course," said Selin=
a,
shortly, still looking restlessly around for help or suggestion.
"But he's--he's dead, isn't he?" ask=
ed
Harold, slightly puzzled.
"What's that got to do with it?"
retorted his sister, resuming her caged-lion promenade.
Harold was somewhat taken aback. In the case of
the pig, for instance, whose last outcry had now passed into stillness, he =
had
considered the chapter as finally closed. Whatever innocent mirth the holid=
ays
might hold in store for Edward, that particular pig, at least, would not be=
a contributor.
And now he was given to understand that the situation had not materially
changed! He would have to revise his ideas, it seemed. Sitting up on end, he
looked towards the garden for assistance in the task. Thence, even as he ga=
zed,
a tiny column of smoke rose straight up into the still air. The gardener had
been sweeping that afternoon, and now, an unconscious priest, was offering =
his
sacrifice of autumn leaves to the calm-eyed goddess of changing hues and ch=
ill
forebodings who was moving slowly about the land that golden afternoon. Har=
old
was up and off in a moment, forgetting Nelson, forgetting the pig, the mole,
the Larkin betrayal, and Selina's strange fever of conscience. Here was fir=
e,
real fire, to play with, and that was even better than messing with water, =
or
remodelling the plastic surface of the earth. Of all the toys the world
provides for right-minded persons, the original elements rank easily the fi=
rst.
But Selina sat on where she was, her chin on h=
er
fists; and her fancies whirled and drifted, here and there, in curls and
eddies, along with the smoke she was watching. As the quick-footed dusk of =
the
short October day stepped lightly over the garden, little red tongues of fi=
re
might be seen to leap and vanish in the smoke. Harold, anon staggering unde=
r armfuls
of leaves, anon stoking vigorously, was discernible only at fitful interval=
s.
It was another sort of smoke that the inner eye of Selina was looking upon,=
--a
smoke that hung in sullen banks round the masts and the hulls of the fighti=
ng
ships; a smoke from beneath which came thunder and the crash and the
splinter-rip, the shout of the boarding-party, the choking sob of the gunner
stretched by his gun; a smoke from out of which at last she saw, as through=
a
riven pall, the radiant spirit of the Victor, crowned with the coronal of a
perfect death, leap in full assurance up into the ether that Immortals brea=
the.
The dusk was glooming towards darkness when she rose and moved slowly down
towards the beckoning fire; something of the priestess in her stride, somet=
hing
of the devotee in the set purpose of her eye.
The leaves were well alight by this time, and
Harold had just added an old furze bush, which flamed and crackled stirring=
ly.
"Go 'n' get some more sticks," order=
ed
Selina, "and shavings, 'n' chunks of wood, 'n' anything you can find. =
Look
here--in the kitchen-garden there 's a pile of old pea-sticks. Fetch as man=
y as
you can carry, and then go back and bring some more!"
"But I say,--" began Harold, amazedl=
y,
scarce knowing his sister, and with a vision of a frenzied gardener,
pea-stickless and threatening retribution.
"Go and fetch 'em quick!" shouted
Selina, stamping with impatience.
Harold ran off at once, true to the stern syst=
em
of discipline in which he had been nurtured. But his eyes were like round O=
's,
and as he ran he talked fast to himself, in evident disorder of mind.
The pea-sticks made a rare blaze, and the fire=
, no
longer smouldering sullenly, leapt up and began to assume the appearance of=
a
genuine bonfire. Harold, awed into silence at first, began to jump round it
with shouts of triumph. Selina looked on grimly, with knitted brow; she was=
not
yet fully satisfied. "Can't you get any more sticks?" she said pr=
esently.
"Go and hunt about. Get some old hampers and matting and things out of=
the
tool-house. Smash up that old cucumber frame Edward shoved you into, the da=
y we
were playing scouts and Mohicans. Stop a bit! Hooray! I know. You come along
with me."
Hard by there was a hot-house, Aunt Eliza's
special pride and joy, and even grimly approved of by the gardener. At one =
end,
in an out-house adjoining, the necessary firing was stored; and to this sac=
red
fuel, of which we were strictly forbidden to touch a stick, Selina went
straight. Harold followed obediently, prepared for any crime after that of =
the pea-sticks,
but pinching himself to see if he were really awake.
"You bring some coals," said Selina
briefly, without any palaver or pro-and-con discussion. "Here's a bask=
et.
I'll manage the faggots!"
In a very few minutes there was little doubt a=
bout
its being a genuine bonfire and no paltry makeshift. Selina, a Maenad now,
hatless and tossing disordered locks, all the dross of the young lady purged
out of her, stalked around the pyre of her own purloining, or prodded it wi=
th a
pea-stick. And as she prodded she murmured at intervals, "I knew there=
was
something we could do! It isn't much--but still it 's something!"
The gardener had gone home to his tea. Aunt El=
iza
had driven out for hers a long way off, and was not expected back till quite
late; and this far end of the garden was not overlooked by any windows. So =
the
Tribute blazed on merrily unchecked. Villagers far away, catching sight of =
the
flare, muttered something about "them young devils at their tricks aga=
in,"
and trudged on beerwards. Never a thought of what day it was, never a thoug=
ht
for Nelson, who preserved their honest pint-pots, to be paid for in honest
pence, and saved them from litres and decimal coinage. Nearer at hand,
frightened rabbits popped up and vanished with a flick of white tails; scar=
ed
birds fluttered among the branches, or sped across the glade to quieter
sleeping-quarters; but never a bird nor a beast gave a thought to the hero =
to
whom they owed it that each year their little homes of horsehair, wool, or
moss, were safe stablished 'neath the flap of the British flag; and that Ga=
me
Laws, quietly permanent, made la chasse a terror only to their betters. No =
one
seemed to know, nor to care, nor to sympathise. In all the ecstasy of her b=
urnt-offering
and sacrifice, Selina stood alone.
And yet--not quite alone! For, as the fire was
roaring at its best, certain stars stepped delicately forth on the surface =
of
the immensity above, and peered down doubtfully--with wonder at first, then
with interest, then with recognition, with a start of glad surprise. They at
least knew all about it, they understood. Among them the Name was a daily
familiar word; his story was a part of the music to which they swung, himse=
lf
was their fellow and their mate and comrade. So they peeped, and winked, and
peeped again, and called to their laggard brothers to come quick and see.
*****
The best of life is but intoxication, and Seli=
na,
who during her brief inebriation had lived in an ecstasy as golden as our d=
rab
existence affords, had to experience the inevitable bitterness of awakening=
sobriety,
when the dying down of the flames into sullen embers coincided with the
frenzied entrance of Aunt Eliza on the scene. It was not so much that she w=
as
at once and forever disrated, broke, sent before the mast, and branded as o=
ne
on whom no reliance could be placed, even with Edward safe at school, and
myself under the distant vigilance of an aunt; that her pocket money was
stopped indefinitely, and her new Church Service, the pride of her last
birthday, removed from her own custody and placed under the control of a Tr=
ust.
She sorrowed rather because she had dragged poor Harold, against his better
judgment, into a most horrible scrape, and moreover because, when the react=
ion
had fairly set in, when the exaltation had fizzled away and the young-lady
portion of her had crept timorously back to its wonted lodging, she could o=
nly
see herself as a plain fool, unjustified, undeniable, without a shadow of a=
n excuse
or explanation.
As for Harold, youth and a short memory made h=
is
case less pitiful than it seemed to his more sensitive sister. True, he sta=
rted
upstairs to his lonely cot bellowing dismally, before him a dreary future of
pains and penalties, sufficient to last to the crack of doom. Outside his d=
oor,
however, he tumbled over Augustus the cat, and made capture of him; and at =
once
his mourning was changed into a song of triumph, as he conveyed his prize i=
nto
port. For Augustus, who detested above all things going to bed with little
boys, was ever more knave than fool, and the trapper who was wily enough to
ensnare him had achieved something notable. Augustus, when he realized that=
his
fate was sealed, and his night's lodging settled, wisely made the best of
things, and listened, with a languorous air of complete comprehension, to t=
he
incoherent babble concerning pigs and heroes, moles and bonfires, which ser=
ved
Harold for a self-sung lullaby. Yet it may be doubted whether Augustus was =
one
of those rare fellows who thoroughly understood.
But Selina knew no more of this source of
consolation than of the sympathy with which the stars were winking above he=
r;
and it was only after some sad interval of time, and on a very moist pillow,
that she drifted into that quaint inconsequent country where you may meet y=
our own
pet hero strolling down the road, and commit what hair-brained oddities you
like, and everybody understands and appreciates.
Those memorable days that move in procession,
their heads just out of the mist of years long dead--the most of them are
full-eyed as the dandelion that from dawn to shade has steeped itself in
sunlight. Here and there in their ranks, however, moves a forlorn one who i=
s blind--blind
in the sense of the dulled window-pane on which the pelting raindrops have
mingled and run down, obscuring sunshine and the circling birds, happy fiel=
ds,
and storied garden; blind with the spatter of a misery uncomprehended,
unanalysed, only felt as something corporeal in its buffeting effects.
Martha began it; and yet Martha was not really=
to
blame. Indeed, that was half the trouble of it--no solid person stood full =
in
view, to be blamed and to make atonement. There was only a wretched, impalp=
able
condition to deal with. Breakfast was just over; the sun was summoning us,
imperious as a herald with clamour of trumpet; I ran upstairs to her with a
broken bootlace in my hand, and there she was, crying in a corner, her head=
in
her apron. Nothing could be got from her but the same dismal succession of =
sobs
that would not have done, that struck and hurt like a physical beating; and=
meanwhile
the sun was getting impatient, and I wanted my bootlace.
Inquiry below stairs revealed the cause. Marth=
a's
brother was dead, it seemed--her sailor brother Billy; drowned in one of th=
ose
strange far-off seas it was our dream to navigate one day. We had known Bil=
ly well,
and appreciated him. When an approaching visit of Billy to his sister had b=
een
announced, we had counted the days to it. When his cheery voice was at last
heard in the kitchen and we had descended with shouts, first of all he had =
to exhibit
his tattooed arms, always a subject for fresh delight and envy and awe; the=
n he
was called upon for tricks, jugglings, and strange, fearful gymnastics; and
lastly came yarns, and more yarns, and yarns till bedtime. There had never =
been
any one like Billy in his own particular sphere; and now he was drowned, th=
ey
said, and Martha was miserable, and--and I couldn't get a new bootlace. They
told me that Billy would never come back any more, and I stared out of the
window at the sun which came back, right enough, every day, and their news
conveyed nothing whatever to me. Martha's sorrow hit home a little, but only
because the actual sight and sound of it gave me a dull, bad sort of pain l=
ow
down inside--a pain not to be actually located. Moreover, I was still wanti=
ng
my bootlace.
This was a poor sort of a beginning to a day t=
hat,
so far as outside conditions went, had promised so well. I rigged up a sort=
of
jurymast of a bootlace with a bit of old string, and wandered off to look up
the girls, conscious of a jar and a discordance in the scheme of things. Th=
e moment
I entered the schoolroom something in the air seemed to tell me that here, =
too,
matters were strained and awry. Selina was staring listlessly out of the
window, one foot curled round her leg. When I spoke to her she jerked a
shoulder testily, but did not condescend to the civility of a reply. Charlo=
tte,
absolutely unoccupied, sprawled in a chair, and there were signs of sniffles
about her, even at that early hour. It was but a trifling matter that had
caused all this electricity in the atmosphere, and the girls' manner of tak=
ing
it seemed to me most unreasonable. Within the last few days the time had co=
me
round for the despatch of a hamper to Edward at school. Only one hamper a t=
erm
was permitted him, so its preparation was a sort of blend of revelry and
religious ceremony. After the main corpus of the thing had been carefully
selected and safely bestowed--the pots of jam, the cake, the sausages, and =
the
apples that filled up corners so nicely--after the last package had been we=
dged
in, the girls had deposited their own private and personal offerings on the
top. I forget their precise nature; anyhow, they were nothing of any partic=
ular
practical use to a boy. But they had involved some contrivance and labour, =
some
skimping of pocket money, and much delightful cloud-building as to the effe=
ct on
their enraptured recipient. Well, yesterday there had come a terse acknowle=
dgment
from Edward, heartily commending the cakes and the jam, stamping the sausag=
es
with the seal of Smith major's approval, and finally hinting that, fortifie=
d as
he now was, nothing more was necessary but a remittance of five shillings in
postage stamps to enable him to face the world armed against every buffet of
fate. That was all. Never a word or a hint of the personal tributes or of h=
is
appreciation of them. To us--to Harold and me, that is--the letter seemed
natural and sensible enough. After all, provender was the main thing, and f=
ive shillings
stood for a complete equipment against the most unexpected turns of luck. T=
he
presents were very well in their way--very nice, and so on--but life was a
serious matter, and the contest called for cakes and half-crowns to carry it
on, not gew-gaws and knitted mittens and the like. The girls, however, in t=
heir
obstinate way, persisted in taking their own view of the slight. Hence it w=
as
that I received my second rebuff of the morning.
Somewhat disheartened, I made my way downstairs
and out into the sunlight, where I found Harold playing conspirators by him=
self
on the gravel. He had dug a small hole in the walk and had laid an imaginar=
y train
of powder thereto; and, as he sought refuge in the laurels from the inevita=
ble
explosion, I heard him murmur: "'My God!' said the Czar, 'my plans are
frustrated!'" It seemed an excellent occasion for being a black puma.
Harold liked black pumas, on the whole, as well as any animal we were famil=
iar
with. So I launched myself on him, with the appropriate howl, rolling him o=
ver
on the gravel.
Life may be said to be composed of things that
come off and things that don't come off. This thing, unfortunately, was one=
of
the things that didn't come off. From beneath me I heard a shrill cry of,
"Oh, it's my sore knee!" And Harold wriggled himself free from the
puma's clutches, bellowing dismally. Now, I honestly didn't know he had a s=
ore
knee, and, what's more, he knew I didn't know he had a sore knee. According=
to boy-ethics,
therefore, his attitude was wrong, sore knee or not, and no apology was due
from me. I made half-way advances, however, suggesting we should lie in amb=
ush
by the edge of the pond and cut off the ducks as they waddled down in simpl=
e,
unsuspecting single file; then hunt them as bisons flying scattered over the
vast prairie. A fascinating pursuit this, and strictly illicit. But Harold
would none of my overtures, and retreated to the house wailing with full lu=
ngs.
Things were getting simply infernal. I struck =
out
blindly for the open country; and even as I made for the gate a shrill voice
from a window bade me keep off the flower-beds. When the gate had swung to
behind me with a vicious click I felt better, and after ten minutes along t=
he
road it began to grow on me that some radical change was needed, that I was=
in
a blind alley, and that this intolerable state of things must somehow cease.
All that I could do I had already done. As well-meaning a fellow as ever
stepped was pounding along the road that day, with an exceeding sore heart;=
one
who only wished to live and let live, in touch with his fellows, and
appreciating what joys life had to offer. What was wanted now was a complete
change of environment. Somewhere in the world, I felt sure, justice and
sympathy still resided. There were places called pampas, for instance, that
sounded well. League upon league of grass, with just an occasional wild hor=
se,
and not a relation within the horizon! To a bruised spirit this seemed a sa=
ne
and a healing sort of existence. There were other pleasant corners, again,
where you dived for pearls and stabbed sharks in the stomach with your big
knife. No relations would be likely to come interfering with you when thus =
blissfully
occupied. And yet I did not wish--just yet--to have done with relations
entirely. They should be made to feel their position first, to see themselv=
es
as they really were, and to wish--when it was too late--that they had behav=
ed
more properly.
Of all professions, the army seemed to lend it=
self
the most thoroughly to the scheme. You enlisted, you followed the drum, you
marched, fought, and ported arms, under strange skies, through unrecorded
years. At last, at long last, your opportunity would come, when the horrors=
of
war were flickering through the quiet country-side where you were cradled a=
nd bred,
but where the memory of you had long been dim. Folk would run together,
clamorous, palsied with fear; and among the terror-stricken groups would fi=
gure
certain aunts. "What hope is left us?" they would ask themselves,
"save in the clemency of the General, the mysterious, invincible Gener=
al,
of whom men tell such romantic tales?" And the army would march in, and
the guns would rattle and leap along the village street, and, last of all,
you--you, the General, the fabled hero--you would enter, on your coal-black
charger, your pale set face seamed by an interesting sabre-cut. And then--b=
ut
every boy has rehearsed this familiar piece a score of times. You are
magnanimous, in fine--that goes without saying; you have a coal-black horse,
and a sabre-cut, and you can afford to be very magnanimous. But all the same
you give them a good talking-to.
This pleasant conceit simply ravished my soul =
for
some twenty minutes, and then the old sense of injury began to well up afre=
sh,
and to call for new plasters and soothing syrups. This time I took refuge in
happy thoughts of the sea. The sea was my real sphere, after all. On the se=
a, in
especial, you could combine distinction with lawlessness, whereas the army
seemed to be always weighted by a certain plodding submission to discipline=
. To
be sure, by all accounts, the life was at first a rough one. But just then I
wanted to suffer keenly; I wanted to be a poor devil of a cabin boy, kicked,
beaten, and sworn at--for a time. Perhaps some hint, some inkling of my
sufferings might reach their ears. In due course the sloop or felucca would
turn up--it always did--the rakish-looking craft, black of hull, low in the
water, and bristling with guns; the jolly Roger flapping overhead, and myse=
lf
for sole commander. By and by, as usually happened, an East Indiaman would =
come
sailing along full of relations--not a necessary relation would be missing.=
And
the crew should walk the plank, and the captain should dance from his own
yardarm, and then I would take the passengers in hand--that miserable group=
of
well-known figures cowering on the quarterdeck!--and then--and then the same
old performance: the air thick with magnanimity. In all the repertory of
heroes, none is more truly magnanimous than your pirate chief.
When at last I brought myself back from the fu=
ture
to the actual present, I found that these delectable visions had helped me =
over
a longer stretch of road than I had imagined; and I looked around and took =
my
bearings. To the right of me was a long low building of grey stone, new, and
yet not smugly so; new, and yet possessing distinction, marked with a chara=
cter
that did not depend on lichen or on crumbling semi-effacement of moulding a=
nd
mullion. Strangers might have been puzzled to classify it; to me, an explor=
er
from earliest years, the place was familiar enough. Most folk called it
"The Settlement"; others, with quite sufficient conciseness for o=
ur
neighbourhood, spoke of "them there fellows up by Halliday's"; ot=
hers
again, with a hint of derision, named them the "monks." This last
title I supposed to be intended for satire, and knew to be fatuously wrong.=
I
was thoroughly acquainted with monks--in books--and well knew the cut of th=
eir
long frocks, their shaven polls, and their fascinating big dogs, with
brandy-bottles round their necks, incessantly hauling happy travellers out =
of
the snow. The only dog at the settlement was an Irish terrier, and the good
fellows who owned him, and were owned by him, in common, wore clothes of th=
e most
nondescript order, and mostly cultivated side-whiskers. I had wandered up t=
here
one day, searching (as usual) for something I never found, and had been tak=
en
in by them and treated as friend and comrade. They had made me free of their
ideal little rooms, full of books and pictures, and clean of the antimacass=
ar
taint; they had shown me their chapel, high, hushed, and faintly scented,
beautiful with a strange new beauty born both of what it had and what it had
not--that too familiar dowdiness of common places of worship. They had also=
fed
me in their dining-hall, where a long table stood on trestles plain to view,
and all the woodwork was natural, unpainted, healthily scrubbed, and redole=
nt
of the forest it came from. I brought away from that visit, and kept by me =
for
many days, a sense of cleanness, of the freshness that pricks the senses--t=
he
freshness of cool spring water; and the large swept spaces of the rooms, the
red tiles, and the oaken settles, suggested a comfort that had no connection
with padded upholstery.
On this particular morning I was in much too
unsociable a mind for paying friendly calls. Still, something in the aspect=
of
the place harmonized with my humour, and I worked my way round to the back,
where the ground, after affording level enough for a kitchen-garden, broke =
steeply
away. Both the word Gothic and the thing itself were still unknown to me, y=
et
doubtless the architecture of the place, consistent throughout, accounted f=
or
its sense of comradeship in my hour of disheartenment. As I mused there, wi=
th
the low, grey, Purposeful-looking building before me, and thought of my ple=
asant
friends within, and what good times they always seemed to be having, and how
they larked with the Irish terrier, whose footing was one of a perfect
equality, I thought of a certain look in their faces, as if they had a comm=
on
purpose and a business, and were acting under orders thoroughly recognized =
and understood.
I remembered, too, something that Martha had told me, about these same fell=
ows
doing "a power o' good," and other hints I had collected vaguely,=
of
renouncements, rules, self-denials, and the like. Thereupon, out of the dep=
ths
of my morbid soul swam up a new and fascinating idea; and at once the caree=
r of
arms seemed over-acted and stale, and piracy, as a profession, flat and
unprofitable. This, then, or something like it, should be my vocation and my
revenge. A severer line of business, perhaps, such as I had read of; someth=
ing
that included black bread and a hair-shirt. There should be vows, too--irre=
vocable,
blood-curdling vows; and an iron grating. This iron grating was the most
necessary feature of all, for I intended that on the other side of it my
relations should range themselves--I mentally ran over the catalogue, and s=
aw
that the whole gang was present, all in their proper places--a sad-eyed row,
combined in tristful appeal. "We see our error now," they would s=
ay;
"we were always dull dogs, slow to catch--especially in those akin to
us--the finer qualities of soul! We misunderstood you, misappreciated you, =
and
we own up to it. And now--" "Alas, my dear friends," I would
strike in here, waving towards them an ascetic hand--one of the emaciated s=
ort,
that lets the light shine through at the fingertips--"Alas, you come t=
oo
late! This conduct is fitting and meritorious on your part, and indeed I al=
ways
expected it of you, sooner or later; but the die is cast, and you may go ho=
me
again and bewail at your leisure this too tardy repentance of yours. For me=
, I
am vowed and dedicated, and my relations henceforth are austerity and holy =
works.
Once a month, should you wish it, it shall be your privilege to come and ga=
ze
at me through this very solid grating; but--" Whack! A well-aimed clod=
of
garden soil, whizzing just past my ear, starred on a tree-trunk behind,
spattering me with dirt, The present came back to me in a flash, and I nimb=
ly
took cover behind the trees, realizing that the enemy was up and abroad, wi=
th
ambuscades, alarms, and thrilling sallies. It was the gardener's boy, I knew
well enough; a red proletariat, who hated me just because I was a gentleman.
Hastily picking up a nice sticky clod in one hand, with the other I delicat=
ely
projected my hat beyond the shelter of the tree-trunk. I had not fought with
Red-skins all these years for nothing. As I had expected, another clod, of =
the first
class for size and stickiness, took my poor hat full in the centre. Then,
Ajax-like, shouting terribly, I issued from shelter and discharged my
ammunition. Woe then for the gardener's boy, who, unprepared, skipping in
premature triumph, took the clod full in his stomach! He, the foolish one,
witless on whose side the gods were fighting that day, discharged yet other
missiles, wavering and wide of the mark; for his wind had been taken with t=
he
first clod, and he shot wildly, as one already desperate and in flight. I g=
ot
another clod in at short range; we clinched on the brow of the hill, and ro=
lled
down to the bottom together. When he had shaken himself free and regained h=
is
legs, he trotted smartly off in the direction of his mother's cottage; but =
over
his shoulder he discharged at me both imprecation and deprecation, menace m=
ixed
up with an under-current of tears.
But as for me, I made off smartly for the road=
, my
frame tingling, my head high, with never a backward look at the Settlement =
of
suggestive aspect, or at my well-planned future which lay in fragments arou=
nd
it. Life had its jollities, then; life was action, contest, victory! The pr=
esent
was rosy once more, surprises lurked on every side, and I was beginning to =
feel
villainously hungry.
Just as I gained the road a cart came rattling=
by,
and I rushed for it, caught the chain that hung below, and swung thrillingly
between the dizzy wheels, choked and blinded with delicious-smelling dust, =
the
world slipping by me like a streaky ribbon below, till the driver licked at=
me
with his whip, and I had to descend to earth again. Abandoning the beaten
track, I then struck homewards through the fields; not that the way was very
much shorter, but rather because on that route one avoided the bridge, and =
had
to splash through the stream and get refreshingly wet. Bridges were made for
narrow folk, for people with aims and vocations which compelled abandonment=
of
many of life's highest pleasures. Truly wise men called on each element ali=
ke
to minister to their joy, and while the touch of sun-bathed air, the fragra=
nce of
garden soil, the ductible qualities of mud, and the spark-whirling rapture =
of
playing with fire, had each their special charm, they did not overlook the
bliss of getting their feet wet. As I came forth on the common Harold broke=
out
of an adjoining copse and ran to meet me, the morning rain-clouds all blown
away from his face. He had made a new squirrel-stick, it seemed. Made it all
himself; melted the lead and everything! I examined the instrument critical=
ly,
and pronounced it absolutely magnificent. As we passed in at our gate the g=
irls
were distantly visible, gardening with a zeal in cheerful contrast to their=
heartsick
lassitude of the morning.
"There's bin another letter come today,&q=
uot;
Harold explained, "and the hamper got joggled about on the journey, and
the presents worked down into the straw and all over the place. One of 'em
turned up inside the cold duck. And that's why they weren't found at first.=
And
Edward said, Thanks awfully!"
I did not see Martha again until we were all
re-assembled at tea-time, when she seemed red-eyed and strangely silent,
neither scolding nor finding fault with anything. Instead, she was very kind
and thoughtful with jams and things, feverishly pressing unwonted delicacie=
s on
us, who wanted little pressing enough. Then suddenly, when I was busiest, s=
he disappeared;
and Charlotte whispered me presently that she had heard her go to her room =
and
lock herself in. This struck me as a funny sort of proceeding.
=
She
stood on the other side of the garden fence, and regarded me gravely as I c=
ame
down the road. Then she said, "Hi--o!" and I responded, "Hul=
lo!"
and pulled up somewhat nervously.
To tell the truth, the encounter was not entir=
ely
unexpected on my part. The previous Sunday I had seen her in church, and af=
ter
service it had transpired who she was, this new-comer, and what aunt she was
staying with. That morning a volunteer had been called for, to take a note =
to the
Parsonage, and rather to my own surprise I had found myself stepping forward
with alacrity, while the others had become suddenly absorbed in various
pursuits, or had sneaked unobtrusively out of view. Certainly I had not yet
formed any deliberate plan of action; yet I suppose I recollected that the =
road
to the Parsonage led past her aunt's garden.
She began the conversation, while I hopped
backwards and forwards over the ditch, feigning a careless ease.
"Saw you in church on Sunday," she s=
aid;
"only you looked different then. All dressed up, and your hair quite
smooth, and brushed up at the sides, and oh, so shiny! What do they put on =
it
to make it shine like that? Don't you hate having your hair brushed?" =
she
ran on, without waiting for an answer. "How your boots squeaked when y=
ou
came down the aisle! When mine squeak, I walk in all the puddles till they
stop. Think I'll get over the fence."
This she proceeded to do in a businesslike way,
while, with my hands deep In my pockets, I regarded her movements with sile=
nt
interest, as those of some strange new animal.
"I've been gardening," she explained,
when she had joined me, "but I didn't like it. There's so many worms a=
bout
to-day. I hate worms. Wish they'd keep out of the way when I'm digging.&quo=
t;
"Oh, I like worms when I'm digging,"= I replied heartily, "seem to make things more lively, don't they?"<= o:p>
She reflected. "Shouldn't mind 'em so muc=
h if
they were warm and dry," she said, "but--" here she shivered,
and somehow I liked her for it, though if it had been my own flesh and blood
hoots of derision would have instantly assailed her.
From worms we passed, naturally enough, to fro=
gs,
and thence to pigs, aunts, gardeners, rocking-horses, and other fellow-citi=
zens
of our common kingdom. In five minutes we had each other's confidences, and=
I
seemed to have known her for a lifetime. Somehow, on the subject of one's s=
elf
it was easier to be frank and communicative with her than with one's female
kin. It must be, I supposed, because she was less familiar with one's fault=
y,
tattered past.
"I was watching you as you came along the
road," she said presently, "and you had your head down and your h=
ands
in your pockets, and you weren't throwing stones at anything, or whistling,=
or
jumping over things; and I thought perhaps you'd bin scolded, or got a
stomachache."
"No," I answered shyly, "it was=
n't
that. Fact is, I was--I often--but it's a secret."
There I made an error in tactics. That enkindl=
ing
word set her dancing round me, half beseeching, half imperious. "Oh, do
tell it me!" she cried. "You must! I'll never tell anyone else at
all, I vow and declare I won't!"
Her small frame wriggled with emotion, and with
imploring eyes she jigged impatiently just in front of me. Her hair was tum=
bled
bewitchingly on her shoulders, and even the loss of a front tooth--a loss
incidental to her age--seemed but to add a piquancy to her face.
"You won't care to hear about it," I
said, wavering. "Besides, I can't explain exactly. I think I won't tell
you." But all the time I knew I should have to.
"But I do care," she wailed plaintiv=
ely.
"I didn't think you'd be so unkind!"
This would never do. That little downward tug =
at
either corner of the mouth--I knew the symptom only too well!
"It 's like this," I began stammerin=
gly.
"This bit of road here--up as far as that corner--you know it 's a hor=
rid
dull bit of road. I'm always having to go up and down it, and I know it so
well, and I'm so sick of it. So whenever I get to that corner, I just--well=
, I
go right off to another place!"
"What sort of a place?" she asked,
looking round her gravely.
"Of course it's just a place I imagine,&q=
uot;
I went on hurriedly and rather shamefacedly: "but it's an awfully nice
place--the nicest place you ever saw. And I always go off there in church, =
or
during joggraphy lessons."
"I'm sure it's not nicer than my home,&qu=
ot;
she cried patriotically. "Oh, you ought to see my home--it 's lovely!
We've got--"
"Yes it is, ever so much nicer," I
interrupted. "I mean"--I went on apologetically--"of course I
know your home's beautiful and all that. But this must be nicer, 'cos if you
want anything at all, you've only got to want it, and you can have it!"=
;
"That sounds jolly," she murmured.
"Tell me more about it, please. Tell me how you get there, first."=
;
"I--don't--quite--know--exactly,"
replied. "I just go. But generally it begins by--well, you're going up=
a
broad, clear river in a sort of a boat. You're not rowing or anything--you'=
re
just moving along. And there's beautiful grass meadows on both sides, and t=
he
river's very full, quite up to the level of the grass. And you glide along =
by
the edge. And the people are haymaking there, and playing games, and walkin=
g about;
and they shout to you, and you shout back to them, and they bring you thing=
s to
eat out of their baskets, and let you drink out of their bottles; and some =
of
'em are the nice people you read about in books. And so at last you come to=
the
Palace steps--great broad marble steps, reaching right down to the water. A=
nd
there at the steps you find every sort of boat you can imagine--schooners, =
and
punts, and row-boats, and little men-of-war. And you have any sort of boati=
ng
you want to--rowing, or sailing, or shoving about in a punt!"
"I'd go sailing," she said decidedly:
"and I 'd steer. No, you'd have to steer, and I'd sit about on the dec=
k.
No, I wouldn't though; I'd row--at least I'd make you row, and I'd steer. A=
nd
then we'd--Oh, no! I'll tell you what we do! We'd just sit in a punt and
dabble!"
"Of course we'll do just what you like,&q=
uot;
I said hospitably; but already I was beginning to feel my liberty of action
somewhat curtailed by this exigent visitor I had so rashly admitted into my
sanctum.
"I don't think we'd boat at all," she
finally decided. "It's always so wobbly. Where do you come to next?&qu=
ot;
"You go up the steps," I continued,
"and in at the door, and the very first place you come to is the Choco=
late-room!"
She brightened up at this, and I heard her mur=
mur
with gusto, "Chocolate-room!"
"It's got every sort of chocolate you can
think of," I went on: "soft chocolate, with sticky stuff inside,
white and pink, what girls like; and hard shiny chocolate, that cracks when=
you
bite it, and takes such a nice long time to suck!"
"I like the soft stuff best," she sa=
id:
"'cos you can eat such a lot more of it!" This was to me a new as=
pect
of the chocolate question, and I regarded her with interest and some respec=
t.
With us, chocolate was none too common a thing, and, whenever we happened to
come by any, we resorted to the quaintest devices in order to make it last =
out.
Still, legends had reached us of children who actually had, from time to ti=
me, as
much chocolate as they could possibly eat; and here, apparently, was one of
them.
"You can have all the creams," I said
magnanimously, "and I'll eat the hard sticks, 'cos I like 'em best.&qu=
ot;
"Oh, but you mustn't!" she cried
impetuously. "You must eat the same as I do! It isn't nice to want to =
eat
different. I'll tell you what--you must give me all the chocolate, and then
I'll give you--I'll give you what you ought to have!"
"Oh, all right," I said, in a subdued
sort of way. It seemed a little hard to be put under a sentimental restrict=
ion
like this in one s own Chocolate-room.
"In the next room you come to," I
proceeded, "there's fizzy drinks! There's a marble-slab business all r=
ound
the room, and little silver taps; and you just turn the right tap, and have=
any
kind of fizzy drink you want."
"What fizzy drinks are there?" she
inquired.
"Oh, all sorts," I answered hastily,
hurrying on. (She might restrict my eatables, but I'd be hanged if I was go=
ing
to have her meddle with my drinks.) "Then you go down the corridor, an=
d at
the back of the palace there's a great big park--the finest park you ever s=
aw.
And there's ponies to ride on, and carriages and carts; and a little railwa=
y,
all complete, engine and guard's van and all; and you work it yourself, and=
you
can go first-class, or in the van, or on the engine, just whichever you
choose."
"I'd go on the engine," she murmured
dreamily. "No, I wouldn't, I'd--"
"Then there 's all the soldiers," I
struck in. Really the line had to be drawn somewhere, and I could not have =
my
railway system disorganized and turned upside down by a mere girl.
"There's any quantity of 'em, fine big soldiers, and they all belong to
me. And a row of brass cannons all along the terrace! And every now and the=
n I
give the order, and they fire off all the guns!"
"No, they don't," she interrupted
hastily. "I won't have 'em fire off any guns You must tell 'em not to.=
I
hate guns, and as soon as they begin firing I shall run right away!"
"But--but that 's what they're there
for," I protested, aghast
"I don't care," she insisted. "=
They
mustn't do it. They can walk about behind me if they like, and talk to me, =
and
carry things. But they mustn't fire off any guns."
I was sadly conscious by this time that in this
brave palace of mine, wherein I was wont to swagger daily, irresponsible and
unquestioned, I was rapidly becoming--so to speak--a mere lodger. The idea =
of
my fine big soldiers being told off to "carry things"! I was not
inclined to tell her any more, though there still remained plenty more to t=
ell.
"Any other boys there?" she asked
presently, in a casual sort of way. "Oh yes," I unguardedly repli=
ed.
"Nice chaps, too. We'll have great--" Then I recollected myself.
"We'll play with them, of course," I went on. "But you are g=
oing
to be my friend, aren't you? And you'll come in my boat, and we'll travel in
the guard's van together, and I'll stop the soldiers firing off their
guns!" But she looked mischievously away, and--do what I would--I could
not get her to promise.
Just then the striking of the village clock aw=
oke
within me another clamorous timepiece, reminding me of mid-day mutton a good
half-mile away, and of penalties and curtailments attaching to a late
appearance. We took a hurried farewell of each other, and before we parted I
got from her an admission that she might be gardening again that afternoon,=
if
only the worms would be less aggressive and give her a chance.
"Remember," I said as I turned to go,
"you mustn't tell anybody about what I've been telling you!"
She appeared to hesitate, swinging one leg to =
and
fro while she regarded me sideways with half-shut eyes.
"It's a dead secret," I said artfull= y. "A secret between us two, and nobody knows it except ourselves!"<= o:p>
Then she promised, nodding violently, big-eyed,
her mouth pursed up small. The delight of revelation, and the bliss of
possessing a secret, run each other very close. But the latter generally
wins--for a time.
I had passed the mutton stage and was welterin=
g in
warm rice pudding, before I found leisure to pause and take in things
generally; and then a glance in the direction of the window told me, to my
dismay, that it was raining hard. This was annoying in every way, for, even=
if
it cleared up later, the worms--I knew well from experience--would be
offensively numerous and frisky. Sulkily I said grace and accompanied the
others upstairs to the schoolroom; where I got out my paint-box and resolve=
d to
devote myself seriously to Art, which of late I had much neglected. Harold =
got
hold of a sheet of paper and a pencil, retired to a table in the corner,
squared his elbows, and protruded his tongue. Literature had always been his
form of artistic expression.
Selina had a fit of the fidgets, bred of the
unpromising weather, and, instead of settling down to something on her own
account, must needs walk round and annoy us artists, intent on embodying our
conceptions of the ideal. She had been looking over my shoulder some minutes
before I knew of it; or I would have had a word or two to say upon the subj=
ect.
"I suppose you call that thing a ship,&qu=
ot;
she remarked contemptuously. "Who ever heard of a pink ship?
Hoo-hoo!"
I stifled my wrath, knowing that in order to s=
core
properly it was necessary to keep a cool head.
"There is a pink ship," I observed w=
ith
forced calmness, "lying in the toyshop window now. You can go and look=
at
it if you like. D' you suppose you know more about ships than the fellows w=
ho
make 'em?"
Selina, baffled for the moment, returned to the
charge presently.
"Those are funny things, too," she observed. "S'pose they 're meant to be trees. But they're blue."<= o:p>
"They are trees," I replied with
severity; "and they are blue. They've got to be blue, 'cos you stole my
gamboge last week, so I can't mix up any green."
"Didn't steal your gamboge," declared
Selina, haughtily, edging away, however, in the direction of Harold. "=
And
I wouldn't tell lies, either, if I was you, about a dirty little bit of
gainboge."
I preserved a discreet silence. After all, I k=
new
she knew she stole my gainboge.
The moment Harold became conscious of Selina's
stealthy approach, he dropped his pencil and flung himself flat upon the ta=
ble,
protecting thus his literary efforts from chilling criticism by the interpo=
sed thickness
of his person. From some-where in his interior proceeded a heart-rending
compound of squeal and whistle, as of escaping steam,--long-drawn,
ear-piercing, unvarying in note.
"I only just wanted to see," protest=
ed
Selina, struggling to uproot his small body from the scrawl it guarded. But
Harold clung limpet-like to the table edge, and his shrill protest continue=
d to
deafen humanity and to threaten even the serenities of Olympus. The time se=
emed
come for a demonstration in force. Personally I cared little what
soul-outpourings of Harold were priated by Selina--she was pretty sure to g=
et
hold of them sooner or later--and indeed I rather welcomed the diversion as=
favourable
to the undisturbed pursuit of Art. But the clannishness of sex has its
unwritten laws. Boys, as such, are sufficiently put upon, maltreated, trodd=
en
under, as it is. Should they fail to hang together in perilous times, what
disasters, what ignominies may not be looked for? Possibly even an extincti=
on
of the tribe. I dropped my paint brush and sailed shouting into the fray.
The result for a short space hung dubious. The=
re
is a period of life when the difference of a year or two in age far outweig=
hs
the minor advantage of sex. Then the gathers of Selina's frock came away wi=
th a
sound like the rattle of distant musketry; and this calamity it was, rather
than mere brute compulsion, that quelled her indomitable spirit.
The female tongue is mightier than the sword, = as I soon had good reason to know, when Selina, her riven garment held out at length, avenged her discomfiture with the Greek-fire of personalities and abuse. Every black incident in my short, but not stainless, career--every error, every folly, every penalty ignobly suffered--were paraded before me = as in a magic-lantern show. The information, however, was not particularly new= to me, and the effect was staled by previous rehearsals. Besides, a victory remains a victory, whatever the moral character of the triumphant general.<= o:p>
Harold chuckled and crowed as he dropped from =
the
table, revealing the document over which so many gathers had sighed their s=
hort
lives out. "You can read it if you like," he said to me gratefull=
y.
"It's only a Death-letter."
It had never been possible to say what Harold's
particular amusement of the hour might turn out to be. One thing only was
certain, that it would be something improbable, unguessable, not to be
foretold. Who, for instance, in search of relaxation, would ever dream of
choosing the drawing-up of a testamentary disposition of property? Yet this=
was
the form taken by Harold's latest craze; and in justice this much had to be=
said
for him, that in the christening of his amusement he had gone right to the
heart of the matter. The words "will" and "testament" h=
ave various
meanings and uses; but about the signification of "death-letter" =
there
can be no manner of doubt. I smoothed out the crumpled paper and read. In
actual form it deviated considerably from that usually adopted by family
solicitors of standing, the only resemblance, indeed, lying in the absence =
of
punctuation.
= "my dear edward (it ran) when I die I leave all my muny to you my walkin sticks wips my crop my sord and gun bricks forts and all things i have goodbye my = dear charlotte when die I leave you my wach and cumpus and pencel case my salors= and camperdown my picteres and evthing goodbye your loving brother armen my dear Martha I love you very much i leave you my garden my mice and rabets my pla= nts in pots when I die please take care of them my dear--" Catera desunt.<= o:p>
=
"Why,
you 're not leaving me anything!" exclaimed Selina, indignantly. "=
;You're
a regular mean little boy, and I'll take back the last birthday present I g=
ave
you!"
"I don't care," said Harold,
repossessing himself of the document. "I was going to leave you someth=
ing,
but I sha'n't now, 'cos you tried to read my death-letter before I was
dead!"
"Then I'II write a death-letter myself,&q=
uot;
retorted Selina, scenting an artistic vengeance: "and I sha'n't leave =
you
a single thing!" And she went off in search of a pencil.
The tempest within-doors had kept my attention=
off
the condition of things without. But now a glance through the window told me
that the rain had entirely ceased, and that everything was bathed instead i=
n a radiant
glow of sunlight, more golden than any gamboge of mine could possibly depic=
t.
Leaving Selina and Harold to settle their feud by a mutual disinheritance, I
slipped from the room and escaped into the open air, eager to pick up the l=
oose
end of my new friendship just where I had dropped it that morning. In the
glorious reaction of the sunshine after the downpour, with its moist warm
smells, bespanglement of greenery, and inspiriting touch of rain-washed air,
the parks and palaces of the imagination glowed with a livelier iris, and t=
heir
blurred beauties shone out again with fresh blush and palpitation. As I sped
along to the tryst, again I accompanied my new comrade along the corridors =
of
my pet palace into which I had so hastily introduced her; and on reflection=
I
began to see that it wouldn't work properly. I had made a mistake, and those
were not the surroundings in which she was most fitted to shine. However, it
really did not matter much; I had other palaces to place at her
disposal--plenty of 'em; and on a further acquaintance with and knowledge of
her tastes, no doubt I could find something to suit her.
There was a real Arabian one, for instance, wh=
ich
I visited but rarely--only just when I was in the fine Oriental mood for it=
; a
wonder of silk hangings, fountains of rosewater, pavilions, and minarets. H=
undreds
of silent, well-trained slaves thronged the stairs and alleys of this
establishment, ready to fetch and carry for her all day, if she wished it; =
and
my brave soldiers would be spared the indignity. Also there were processions
through the bazaar at odd moments--processions with camels, elephants, and
palanquins. Yes, she was more suited for the East, this imperious young per=
son;
and I determined that thither she should be personally conducted as soon as
ever might be.
I reached the fence and climbed up two bars of=
it,
and leaning over I looked this way and that for my twin-souled partner of t=
he
morning. It was not long before I caught sight of her, only a short distance
away. Her back was towards me and--well, one can never foresee exactly how =
one will
find things--she was talking to a Boy.
Of course there are boys and boys, and Lord kn=
ows
I was never narrow. But this was the parson's son from an adjoining village=
, a
red-headed boy and as common a little beast as ever stepped. He cultivated =
ferrets--his
only good point; and it was evidently through the medium of this art that he
was basely supplanting me, for her head was bent absorbedly over something =
he
carried in his hands. With some trepidation I called out, "Hi!" B=
ut
answer there was none. Then again I called, "Hi!" but this time w=
ith
a sickening sense of failure and of doom. She replied only by a complex
gesture, decisive in import if not easily described. A petulant toss of the
head, a jerk of the left shoulder, and a backward kick of the left foot, all
delivered at once--that was all, and that was enough. The red-headed boy ne=
ver
even condescended to glance my way. Why, indeed, should he? I dropped from =
the
fence without another effort, and took my way homewards along the weary roa=
d.
Little inclination was left to me, at first, f=
or
any solitary visit to my accustomed palace, the pleasures of which I had so
recently tasted in company; and yet after a minute or two I found myself, f=
rom
habit, sneaking off there much as usual. Presently I became aware of a cert=
ain solace
and consolation in my newly-recovered independence of action. Quit of all
female whims and fanciful restrictions, I rowed, sailed, or punted, just as=
I
pleased; in the Chocolate-room I cracked and nibbled the hard sticks, with a
certain contempt for those who preferred the soft, veneered article; and I =
mixed
and quaffed countless fizzy drinks without dread of any prohibitionist.
Finally, I swaggered into the park, paraded all my soldiers on the terrace,
and, bidding them take the time from me, gave the order to fire off all the
guns.
=
Grown-up
people really ought to be more careful. Among themselves it may seem but a
small thing to give their word and take back their word. For them there are=
so
many compensations. Life lies at their feet, a party-coloured india-rubber
ball; they may kick it this way or kick it that, it turns up blue, yellow, =
or
green, but always coloured and glistenning. Thus one sees it happen almost
every day, and, with a jest and a laugh, the thing is over, and the
disappointed one turns to fresh pleasure, lying ready to his hand. But with
those who are below them, whose little globe is swayed by them, who rush to
build star-pointing alhambras on their most casual word, they really ought =
to
be more careful.
In this case of the circus, for instance, it w=
as
not as if we had led up to the subject. It was they who began it
entirely--prompted thereto by the local newspaper. "What, a circus!&qu=
ot;
said they, in their irritating, casual way: "that would be nice to take
the children to. Wednesday would be a good day. Suppose we go on Wednesday.=
Oh,
and pleats are being worn again, with rows of deep braid," etc.
What the others thought I know not: what they
said, if they said anything, I did not comprehend. For me the house was
bursting, walls seemed to cramp and to stifle, the roof was jumping and
lifting. Escape was the imperative thing--to escape into the open air, to s=
hake
off bricks and mortar, and to wander in the unfrequented places of the eart=
h,
the more properly to take in the passion and the promise of the giddy
situation.
Nature seemed prim and staid that day, and the
globe gave no hint that it was flying round a circus ring of its own. Could
they really be true. I wondered, all those bewildering things I had heard t=
ell
of circuses? Did long-tailed ponies really walk on their hind-legs and fire=
off
pistols? Was it humanly possible for clowns to perform one-half of the
bewitching drolleries recorded in history? And how, oh, how dare I venture =
to
believe that, from off the backs of creamy Arab steeds, ladies of more than
earthly beauty discharged themselves through paper hoops? No, it was not
altogether possible, there must have been some exaggeration. Still, I would=
be
content with very little, I would take a low percentage--a very small
proportion of the circus myth would more than satisfy me. But again, even
supposing that history were, once in a way, no liar, could it be that I mys=
elf
was really fated to look upon this thing in the flesh and to live through i=
t,
to survive the rapture? No, it was altogether too much. Something was bound=
to
happen, one of us would develop measles, the world would blow up with a loud
explosion. I must not dare, I must not presume, to entertain the smallest h=
ope.
I must endeavour sternly to think of something else.
Needless to say, I thought, I dreamed of nothi=
ng
else, day or night. Waking, I walked arm-in-arm with a clown, and cracked a
portentous whip to the brave music of a band. Sleeping, I pursued--perched
astride of a coal-black horse--a princess all gauze and spangles, who always
managed to keep just one unattainable length ahead. In the early morning Ha=
rold
and I, once fully awake, crossexammed each other as to the possibilities of
this or that circus tradition, and exhausted the lore long ere the first
housemaid was stirring. In this state of exaltation we slipped onward to wh=
at
promised to be a day of all white days--which brings me right back to my te=
xt,
that grown-up people really ought to be more careful. I had known it could
never really be; I had said so to myself a dozen times. The vision was too
sweetly ethereal for embodiment. Yet the pang of the disillusionment was no=
ne
the less keen and sickening, and the pain was as that of a corporeal wound.=
It
seemed strange and foreboding, when we entered the breakfast-room, not to f=
ind
everybody cracking whips, jumping over chairs, and whooping In ecstatic
rehearsal of the wild reality to come. The situation became grim and pallid=
indeed,
when I caught the expressions "garden-party" and "my mauve t=
ulle,"
and realized that they both referred to that very afternoon. And every minu=
te,
as I sat silent and listened, my heart sank lower and lower, descending
relentlessly like a clock-weight into my boot soles.
Throughout my agony I never dreamed of resorti=
ng
to a direct question, much less a reproach. Even during the period of joyful
anticipation some fear of breaking the spell had kept me from any bald circ=
us
talk in the presence of them. But Harold, who was built in quite another wa=
y,
so soon as he discerned the drift of their conversation and heard the knell=
of
all his hopes, filled the room with wail and clamour of bereavement. The
grinning welkin rang with "Circus!" "Cir-cus!" shook th=
e window-panes;
the mocking walls re-echoed "Circus!" Circus he would have, and t=
he
whole circus, and nothing but the circus. No compromise for him, no evasion=
s,
no fallacious, unsecured promises to pay. He had drawn his cheque on the Ba=
nk
of Expectation, and it had got to be cashed then and there; else he would y=
ell,
and yell himself into a fit, and come out of it and yell again. Yelling sho=
uld
be his profession, his art, his mission, his career. He was qualified, he w=
as
resolute, and he was in no hurry to retire from the business.
The noisy ones of the world, if they do not al=
ways
shout themselves into the imperial purple, are sure at least of receiving
attention. If they cannot sell everything at their own price, one
thing--silence--must, at any cost, be purchased of them. Harold accordingly=
had
to be consoled by the employment of every specious fallacy and base-born tr=
ick
known to those whose doom it is to handle children. For me their hollow
cajolery had no interest, I could pluck no consolation out of their bankrup=
t though
prodigal pledges. I only waited till that hateful, well-known "Some ot=
her
time, dear!" told me that hope was finally dead. Then I left the room
without any remark. It made it worse--if anything could--to hear that stale,
worn-out old phrase, still supposed by those dullards to have some efficacy=
.
To nature, as usual, I drifted by instinct, and
there, out of the track of humanity, under a friendly hedge-row had my black
hour unseen. The world was a globe no longer, space was no more filled with
whirling circuses of spheres. That day the old beliefs rose up and asserted=
themselves,
and the earth was flat again--ditch-riddled, stagnant, and deadly flat. The
undeviating roads crawled straight and white, elms dressed themselves stiff=
ly
along inflexible hedges, all nature, centrifugal no longer, sprawled flatly=
in
lines out to its farthest edge, and I felt just like walking out to that
terminus, and dropping quietly off. Then, as I sat there, morosely chewing =
bits
of stick, the recollection came back to me of certain fascinating
advertisements I had spelled out in the papers--advertisements of great and
happy men, owning big ships of tonnage running into four figures, who yet
craved, to the extent of public supplication, for the sympathetic co-operat=
ion
of youths as apprentices. I did not rightly know what apprentices might be,=
nor
whether I was yet big enough to be styled a youth; but one thing seemed cle=
ar,
that, by some such means as this, whatever the intervening hardships, I cou=
ld
eventually visit all the circuses of the world--the circuses of merry France
and gaudy Spain, of Holland and Bohemia, of China and Peru. Here was a plan
worth thinking out in all its bearings; for something had presently to be d=
one
to end this intolerable state of things.
Mid-day, and even feeding-time, passed by gloo=
mily
enough, till a small disturbance occurred which had the effect of releasing
some of the electricity with which the air was charged. Harold, it should b=
e explained,
was of a very different mental mould, and never brooded, moped, nor ate his
heart out over any disappointment. One wild outburst--one dissolution of a
minute into his original elements of air and water, of tears and outcry--so
much insulted nature claimed. Then he would pull himself together, iron out=
his
countenance with a smile, and adjust himself to the new condition of things=
.
If the gods are ever grateful to man for anyth=
ing,
it is when he is so good as to display a short memory. The Olympians were n=
ever
slow to recognize this quality of Harold's, in which, indeed, their salvati=
on lay,
and on this occasion their gratitude had taken the practical form of a fine=
fat
orange, tough-rinded as oranges of those days were wont to be. This he had
eviscerated in the good old-fashioned manner, by biting out a hole in the
shoulder, inserting a lump of sugar therein, and then working it cannily ti=
ll
the whole soul and body of the orange passed glorified through the sugar in=
to
his being. Thereupon, filled full of orange-juice and iniquity, he conceive=
d a
deadly snare. Having deftly patted and squeezed the orange-skin till it res=
umed
its original shape, he filled it up with water, inserted a fresh lump of su=
gar
in the orifice, and, issuing forth, blandly proffered it to me as I sat moo=
dily
in the doorway dreaming of strange wild circuses under tropic skies.
Such a stale old dodge as this would hardly ha=
ve
taken me in at ordinary moments. But Harold had reckoned rightly upon the
disturbing effect of ill-humour, and had guessed, perhaps, that I thirsted =
for
comfort and consolation, and would not criticize too closely the source from
which they came. Unthinkingly I grasped the golden fraud, which collapsed a=
t my
touch, and squirted its contents, into my eyes and over my collar, till the
nethermost parts of me were damp with the water that had run down my neck. =
In
an instant I had Harold down, and, with all the energy of which I was capab=
le,
devoted myself to grinding his head into the gravel; while he, realizing th=
at
the closure was applied, and that the time for discussion or argument was p=
ast,
sternly concentrated his powers on kicking me in the stomach.
Some people can never allow events to work
themselves out quietly. At this juncture one of Them swooped down on the sc=
ene,
pouring shrill, misplaced abuse on both of us: on me for ill-treating my
younger brother, whereas it was distinctly I who was the injured and the de=
ceived;
on him for the high offense of assault and battery on a clean collar--a col=
lar
which I had myself deflowered and defaced, shortly before, in sheer despera=
te
ill-temper. Disgusted and defiant we fled in different directions, rejoining
each other later in the kitchen-garden; and as we strolled along together, =
our
short feud forgotten, Harold observed, gloomily: "I should like to be a
cave-man, like Uncle George was tellin' us about: with a flint hatchet and =
no
clothes, and live in a cave and not know anybody!"
"And if anyone came to see us we didn't
like," I joined in, catching on to the points of the idea, "we'd =
hit
him on the head with the hatchet till he dropped down dead."
"And then," said Harold, warming up,
"we'd drag him into the cave and skin him!"
For a space we gloated silently over the fair
scene our imaginations had conjured up. It was blood we felt the need of ju=
st
then. We wanted no luxuries, nothing dear-bought nor far-fetched. Just plain
blood, and nothing else, and plenty of it.
Blood, however, was not to be had. The time was
out of joint, and we had been born too late. So we went off to the greenhou=
se,
crawled into the heating arrangement underneath, and played at the dark and
dirty and unrestricted life of cave-men till we were heartily sick of it. T=
hen
we emerged once more into historic times, and went off to the road to look =
for
something living and sentient to throw stones at.
Nature, so often a cheerful ally, sometimes su=
lks
and refuses to play. When in this mood she passes the word to her underling=
s,
and all the little people of fur and feather take the hint and slip home
quietly by back streets. In vain we scouted, lurked, crept, and ambuscaded.=
Everything
that usually scurried, hopped, or fluttered--the small society of the
undergrowth--seemed to have engagements elsewhere. The horrid thought that
perhaps they had all gone off to the circus occurred to us simultaneously, =
and
we humped ourselves up on the fence and felt bad. Even the sound of approac=
hing
wheels failed to stir any interest in us. When you are bent on throwing sto=
nes
at something, humanity seems obtrusive and better away. Then suddenly we bo=
th
jumped off the fence together, our faces clearing. For our educated ear had
told us that the approaching rattle could only proceed from a dog-cart, and=
we
felt sure it must be the funny man.
We called him the funny man because he was sad=
and
serious, and said little, but gazed right into our souls, and made us tell =
him
just what was on our minds at the time, and then came out with some
magnificently luminous suggestion that cleared every cloud away. What was m=
ore,
he would then go off with us at once and pay the thing right out to its fin=
ish,
earnestly and devotedly, putting all other things aside. So we called him t=
he
funny man, meaning only that he was different from those others who thought=
it
incumbent on them to play the painful mummer. The ideal as opposed to the r=
eal
man was what we meant, only we were not acquainted with the phrase. Those
others, with their laboured jests and clumsy contortions, doubtless flatter=
ed
themselves that they were funny men; we, who had to sit through and applaud=
the
painful performance, knew better.
He pulled up to a walk as soon as he caught si=
ght
of us, and the dog-cart crawled slowly along till it stopped just opposite.
Then he leant his chin on his hand and regarded us long and soulfully, yet =
said
he never a word; while we jigged up and down in the dust, grinning bashfully
but with expectation. For you never knew exactly what this man might say or=
do.
"You look bored," he remarked presen=
tly;
"thoroughly bored. Or else--let me see; you're not married, are you?&q=
uot;
He asked this in such sad earnestness that we
hastened to assure him we were not married, though we felt he ought to have
known that much; we had been intimate for some time.
"Then it's only boredom," he said.
"Just satiety and world-weariness. Well, if you assure me you aren't
married you can climb into this cart and I'll take you for a drive. I'm bor=
ed,
too. I want to do something dark and dreadful and exciting."
We clambered in, of course, yapping with delig=
ht
and treading all over his toes; and as we set off, Harold demanded of him
imperiously whither he was going.
"My wife," he replied, "has ord=
ered
me to go and look up the curate and bring him home to tea. Does that sound
sufficiently exciting for you?"
Our faces fell. The curate of the hour was not=
a
success, from our point of view. He was not a funny man, in any sense of the
word.
"--but I'm not going to," he added,
cheerfully. "Then I was to stop at some cottage and ask--what was it?
There was nettle-rash mixed up in it, I'm sure. But never mind, I've forgot=
ten,
and it doesn't matter. Look here, we're three desperate young fellows who s=
tick
at nothing. Suppose we go off to the circus?"
Of certain supreme moments it is not easy to
write. The varying shades and currents of emotion may indeed be put into wo=
rds
by those specially skilled that way; they often are, at considerable length.
But the sheer, crude article itself--the strong, live thing that leaps up
inside you and swells and strangles you, the dizziness of revulsion that ta=
kes
the breath like cold water--who shall depict this and live? All I knew was =
that
I would have died then and there, cheerfully, for the funny man; that I lon=
ged
for red Indians to spring out from the hedge on the dog-cart, just to show =
what
I would do; and that, with all this, I could not find the least little word=
to
say to him.
Harold was less taciturn. With shrill voice,
uplifted in solemn chant, he sang the great spheral circus-song, and the
undying glory of the Ring. Of its timeless beginning he sang, of its fashio=
ning
by cosmic forces, and of its harmony with the stellar plan. Of horses he sa=
ng, of
their strength, their swiftness, and their docility as to tricks. Of clowns
again, of the glory of knavery, and of the eternal type that shall endure.
Lastly he sang of Her--the Woman of the Ring--flawless, complete, untrammel=
led
in each subtly curving limb; earth's highest output, time's noblest express=
ion.
At least, he doubtless sang all these things and more--he certainly seemed =
to;
though all that was distinguishable was, "We're-goin'-to-the-circus!&q=
uot;
and then, once more, "We're-goin'-to-the-circus!"--the sweet rhyt=
hmic
phrase repeated again and again. But indeed I cannot be quite sure, for I h=
eard
confusedly, as in a dream. Wings of fire sprang from the old mare's shoulde=
rs.
We whirled on our way through purple clouds, and earth and the rattle of wh=
eels
were far away below.
The dream and the dizziness were still in my h=
ead
when I found myself, scarce conscious of intermediate steps, seated actuall=
y in
the circus at last, and took in the first sniff of that intoxicating circus
smell that will stay by me while this clay endures. The place was beset by =
a hum
and a glitter and a mist; suspense brooded large o'er the blank, mysterious
arena. Strung up to the highest pitch of expectation, we knew not from what
quarter, in what divine shape, the first surprise would come.
A thud of unseen hoofs first set us aquiver; t=
hen
a crash of cymbals, a jangle of bells, a hoarse applauding roar, and Coralie
was in the midst of us, whirling past 'twixt earth and sky, now erect, flus=
hed,
radiant, now crouched to the flowing mane; swung and tossed and moulded by =
the maddening
dance-music of the band. The mighty whip of the count in the frock-coat mar=
ked
time with pistol-shots; his war-cry, whooping clear above the music, fired =
the
blood with a passion for splendid deeds, as Coralie, laughing, exultant,
crashed through the paper hoops. We gripped the red cloth in front of us, a=
nd
our souls sped round and round with Coralie, leaping with her, prone with h=
er,
swung by mane or tail with her. It was not only the ravishment of her delir=
ious
feats, nor her cream-coloured horse of fairy breed, long-tailed, roe-footed=
, an
enchanted prince surely, if ever there was one! It was her more than mortal
beauty--displayed, too, under conditions never vouchsafed to us before--that
held us spell-bound. What princess had arms so dazzlingly white, or went
delicately clothed in such pink and spangles? Hitherto we had known the out=
ward
woman as but a drab thing, hour-glass shaped, nearly legless, bunched here,
constricted there; slow of movement, and given to deprecating lusty action =
of
limb. Here was a revelation! From henceforth our imaginations would have to=
be
revised and corrected up to date. In one of those swift rushes the mind mak=
es
in high-strung moments, I saw myself and Coralie, close enfolded, pacing the
world together, o'er hill and plain, through storied cities, past rows of a=
pplauding
relations,--I in my Sunday knickerbockers, she in her pink and spangles.
Summers sicken, flowers fail and die, all beau=
ty
but rides round the ring and out at the portal; even so Coralie passed in h=
er
turn, poised sideways, panting, on her steed; lightly swayed as a tulip-blo=
om,
bowing on this side and on that as she disappeared; and with her went my he=
art and
my soul, and all the light and the glory and the entrancement of the scene.=
Harold woke up with a gasp. "Wasn't she
beautiful?" he said, in quite a subdued way for him. I felt a momentary
pang. We had been friendly rivals before, in many an exploit; but here was
altogether a more serious affair. Was this, then, to be the beginning of st=
rife
and coldness, of civil war on the hearthstone and the sundering of old ties=
? Then
I recollected the true position of things, and felt very sorry for Harold; =
for
it was inexorably written that he would have to give way to me, since I was=
the
elder. Rules were not made for nothing, in a sensibly constructed universe.=
There was little more to wait for, now Coralie=
had
gone; yet I lingered still, on the chance of her appearing again. Next mome=
nt
the clown tripped up and fell flat, with magnificent artifice, and at once
fresh emotions began to stir. Love had endured its little hour, and stern a=
mbition
now asserted itself. Oh, to be a splendid fellow like this, self-contained,
ready of speech, agile beyond conception, braving the forces of society, his
hand against everyone, yet always getting the best of it! What freshness of
humour, what courtesy to dames, what triumphant ability to discomfit rivals,
frock-coated and moustached though they might be! And what a grand,
self-confident straddle of the legs! Who could desire a finer career than t=
o go
through life thus gorgeously equipped! Success was his key-note, adroitness=
his
panoply, and the mellow music of laughter his instant reward. Even Coralie'=
s image
wavered and receded. I would come back to her in the evening, of course; bu=
t I
would be a clown all the working hours of the day.
The short interval was ended: the band, with
long-drawn chords, sounded a prelude touched with significance; and the
programme, in letters overtopping their fellows, proclaimed Zephyrine, the
Bride of the Desert, in her unequalled bareback equestrian interlude. So sa=
ted
was I already with beauty and with wit, that I hardly dared hope for a fres=
h emotion.
Yet her title was tinged with romance, and Coralie's display had aroused in=
me
an interest in her sex which even herself had failed to satisfy entirely.
Brayed in by trumpets, Zephyrine swung
passionately into the arena. With a bound she stood erect, one foot upon ea=
ch
of her supple, plunging Arabs; and at once I knew that my fate was sealed, =
my
chapter closed, and the Bride of the Desert was the one bride for me. Black=
was
her raiment, great silver stars shone through it, caught in the dusky twili=
ght
of her gauze; black as her own hair were the two mighty steeds she bestrode=
. In
a tempest they thundered by, in a whirlwind, a scirocco of tan; her cheeks =
bore
the kiss of an Eastern sun, and the sand-storms of her native desert were h=
er
satellites. What was Coralie, with her pink silk, her golden hair and slend=
er
limbs, beside this magnificent, full-figured Cleopatra? In a twinkling we w=
ere
scouring the desert--she and I and the two coal-black horses. Side by side,
keeping pace in our swinging gallop, we distanced the ostrich, we outstrode=
the
zebra; and, as we went, it seemed the wilderness blossomed like the rose.
*****
I know not rightly how we got home that evenin=
g.
On the road there were everywhere strange presences, and the thud of phantom
hoofs encircled us. In my nose was the pungent circus-smell; the crack of t=
he
whip and the frank laugh of the clown were in my ears. The funny man
thoughtfully abstained from conversation, and left our illusion quite alone,
sparing us all jarring criticism and analysis; and he gave me no chance, wh=
en he
deposited us at our gate, to get rid of the clumsy expressions of gratitude=
I
had been laboriously framing. For the rest of the evening, distraught and
silent, I only heard the march-music of the band, playing on in some corner=
of
my brain. When at last my head touched the pillow, in a trice I was with
Zephyrine, riding the boundless Sahara, cheek to cheek, the world well lost;
while at times, through the sand-clouds that encircled us, glimmered the ey=
es
of Coralie, touched, one fancied, with something of a tender reproach.
=
In the
long winter evenings, when we had the picture-books out on the floor, and
sprawled together over them with elbows deep in the hearth-rug, the first
business to be gone through was the process of allotment. All the character=
s in
the pictures had to be assigned and dealt out among us, according to senior=
ity,
as far as they would go. When once that had been satisfactorily completed, =
the
story was allowed to proceed; and thereafter, in addition to the excitement=
of
the plot, one always possessed a personal interest in some particular membe=
r of
the cast, whose successes or rebuffs one took as so much private gain or lo=
ss.
For Edward this was satisfactory enough. Claim=
ing
his right of the eldest, he would annex the hero in the very frontispiece; =
and
for the rest of the story his career, if chequered at intervals, was sure o=
f heroic
episodes and a glorious close. But his juniors, who had to put up with
characters of a clay more mixed--nay, sometimes with undiluted villany--were
hard put to it on occasion to defend their other selves (as it was strict
etiquette to do) from ignominy perhaps only too justly merited.
Edward was indeed a hopeless grabber. In the
"Buffalo-book," for instance (so named from the subject of its
principal picture, though indeed it dealt with varied slaughter in every zo=
ne),
Edward was the stalwart, bearded figure, with yellow leggings and a
powder-horn, who undauntedly discharged the fatal bullet into the shoulder =
of
the great bull bison, charging home to within a yard of his muzzle. To me w=
as allotted
the subsidiary character of the friend who had succeeded in bringing down a
cow; while Harold had to be content to hold Edward's spare rifle in the
background, with evident signs of uneasiness. Farther on, again, where the
magnificent chamois sprang rigid into mid-air. Edward, crouched dizzily aga=
inst
the precipice-face, was the sportsman from whose weapon a puff of white smo=
ke
was floating away. A bare-kneed guide was all that fell to my share, while =
poor
Harold had to take the boy with the haversack, or abandon, for this occasio=
n at
least, all Alpine ambitions.
Of course the girls fared badly in this book, =
and
it was not surprising that they preferred the "Pilgrim's Progress"
(for instance), where women had a fair show, and there was generally enough=
of
'em to go round; or a good fairy story, wherein princesses met with a healt=
hy
appreciation. But indeed we were all best pleased with a picture wherein th=
e characters
just fitted us, in number, sex, and qualifications; and this, to us, stood =
for
artistic merit.
All the Christmas numbers, in their gilt frame=
s on
the nursery-wall, had been gone through and allotted long ago; and in these,
sooner or later, each one of us got a chance to figure in some satisfactory=
and
brightly coloured situation. Few of the other pictures about the house affo=
rded
equal facilities. They were generally wanting in figures, and even when the=
se
were present they lacked dramatic interest. In this picture that I have to
speak about, although the characters had a stupid way of not doing anything,
and apparently not wanting to do anything, there was at least a sufficiency=
of
them; so in due course they were allotted, too.
In itself the picture, which--in its ebony and
tortoise-shell frame--hung in a corner of the dining-room, had hitherto
possessed no special interest for us, and would probably never have been de=
alt
with at all but for a revolt of the girls against a succession of books on =
sport,
in which the illustrator seemed to have forgotten that there were such thin=
gs
as women in the world. Selina accordingly made for it one rainy morning, and
announced that she was the lady seated in the centre, whose gown of rich,
flowered brocade fell in such straight, severe lines to her feet, whose clo=
ak
of dark blue was held by a jewelled clasp, and whose long, fair hair was
crowned with a diadem of gold and pearl. Well, we had no objection to that;=
it
seemed fair enough, especially to Edward, who promptly proceeded to
"grab" the armour-man who stood leaning on his shield at the lady=
's
right hand. A dainty and delicate armour-man this! And I confess, though I =
knew
it was all right and fair and orderly, I felt a slight pang when he passed =
out
of my reach into Edward's possession. His armour was just the sort I wanted=
myself--scalloped
and fluted and shimmering and spotless; and, though he was but a boy by his
beardless face and golden hair, the shattered spear-shaft in his grasp
proclaimed him a genuine fighter and fresh from some such agreeable work. Y=
es,
I grudged Edward the armour-man, and when he said I could have the fellow on
the other side, I hung back and said I'd think about it.
This fellow had no armour nor weapons, but wor=
e a
plain jerkin with a leather pouch--a mere civilian--and with one hand he
pointed to a wound in his thigh. I didn't care about him, and when Harold
eagerly put in his claim I gave way and let him have the man. The cause of
Harold's anxiety only came out later. It was the wound he coveted, it seeme=
d.
He wanted to have a big, sore wound of his very own, and go about and show =
it
to people, and excite their envy or win their respect. Charlotte was only t=
oo
pleased to take the child-angel seated at the lady's feet, grappling with a
musical instrument much too big for her. Charlotte wanted wings badly, and,
next to those, a guitar or a banjo. The angel, besides, wore an amber neckl=
ace,
which took her fancy immensely.
This left the picture allotted, with the excep=
tion
of two or three more angels, who peeped or perched behind the main figures =
with
a certain subdued drollery in their faces, as if the thing had gone on long=
enough,
and it was now time to upset something or kick up a row of some sort. We kn=
ew
these good folk to be saints and angels, because we had been told they were;
otherwise we should never have guessed it. Angels, as we knew them in our
Sunday books, were vapid, colourless, uninteresting characters, with straig=
ht
up-and-down sort of figures, white nightgowns, white wings, and the same
straight yellow hair parted in the middle. They were serious, even melancho=
ly;
and we had no desire to have any traffic with them. These bright bejewelled
little persons, however, piquant of face and radiant of feather, were evide=
ntly
hatched from quite a different egg, and we felt we might have interests in =
common
with them. Short-nosed, shock-headed, with mouths that went up at the corne=
rs
and with an evident disregard for all their fine clothes, they would be the
best of good company, we felt sure, if only we could manage to get at them.=
One
doubt alone disturbed my mind. In games requiring agility, those wings of
theirs would give them a tremendous pull. Could they be trusted to play fai=
r? I
asked Selina, who replied scornfully that angels always played fair. But I =
went
back and had another look at the brown-faced one peeping over the back of t=
he
lady's chair, and still I had my doubts.
When Edward went off to school a great deal of
adjustment and re-allotment took place, and all the heroes of illustrated
literature were at my call, did I choose to possess them. In this particular
case, however, I made no haste to seize upon the armour-man. Perhaps it was=
because
I wanted a fresh saint of my own, not a stale saint that Edward had been fo=
r so
long a time. Perhaps it was rather that, ever since I had elected to be
saintless, I had got into the habit of strolling off into the background, a=
nd
amusing myself with what I found there. A very fascinating background it wa=
s,
and held a great deal, though so tiny. Blue and red, like gems. Then a white
road ran, with wilful, uncalled-for loops, up a steep, conical hill, crowned
with towers, bastioned walls, and belfries; and down the road the little
knights came riding, two and two. The hill on one side descended to water,
tranquil, farreaching, and blue; and a very curly ship lay at anchor, with =
one mast
having an odd sort of crow's-nest at the top of it.
There was plenty to do in this pleasant land. =
The
annoying thing about it was, one could never penetrate beyond a certain poi=
nt.
I might wander up that road as often as I liked, I was bound to be brought =
up
at the gateway, the funny galleried, top-heavy gateway, of the little walle=
d town.
Inside, doubtless, there were high jinks going on; but the password was den=
ied
to me. I could get on board a boat and row up as far as the curly ship, but
around the headland I might not go. On the other side, of a surety, the
shipping lay thick. The merchants walked on the quay, and the sailors sang =
as
they swung out the corded bales. But as for me, I must stay down in the mea=
dow,
and imagine it all as best I could.
Once I broached the subject to Charlotte, and
found, to my surprise, that she had had the same joys and encountered the s=
ame
disappointments in this delectable country. She, too, had walked up that ro=
ad
and flattened her nose against that portcullis; and she pointed out somethi=
ng
that I had overlooked--to wit, that if you rowed off in a boat to the curly
ship, and got hold of a rope, and clambered aboard of her, and swarmed up t=
he
mast, and got into the crow's-nest, you could just see over the headland, a=
nd
take in at your ease the life and bustle of the port. She proceeded to desc=
ribe
all the fun that was going on there, at such length and with so much
particularity that I looked at her suspiciously. "Why, you talk as if =
you'd
been in that crow's-nest yourself!" I said. Charlotte answered nothing,
but pursed her mouth up and nodded violently for some minutes; and I could =
get
nothing more out of her. I felt rather hurt. Evidently she had managed, som=
ehow
or other, to get up into that crow's-nest. Charlotte had got ahead of me on
this occasion.
It was necessary, no doubt, that grownup people
should dress themselves up and go forth to pay calls. I don't mean that we =
saw
any sense in the practice. It would have been so much more reasonable to st=
ay
at home in your old clothes and play. But we recognized that these folk had=
to do
many unaccountable things, and after all it was their life, and not ours, a=
nd
we were not in a position to criticize. Besides, they had many habits more =
objectionable
than this one, which to us generally meant a free and untrammelled afternoo=
n,
wherein to play the devil in our own way. The case was different, however, =
when
the press-gang was abroad, when prayers and excuses were alike disregarded,=
and
we were forced into the service, like native levies impelled toward the foe
less by the inherent righteousness of the cause than by the indisputable ri=
fles
of their white allies. This was unpardonable and altogether detestable. Sti=
ll,
the thing happened, now and again; and when it did, there was no arguing ab=
out
it. The order was for the front, and we just had to shut up and march.
Selina, to be sure, had a sneaking fondness for
dressing up and paying calls, though she pretended to dislike it, just to k=
eep
on the soft side of public opinion. So I thought it extremely mean in her to
have the earache on that particular afternoon when Aunt Eliza ordered the p=
ony-carriage
and went on the war-path. I was ordered also, in the same breath as the
pony-carriage; and, as we eventually trundled off, it seemed to me that the
utter waste of that afternoon, for which I had planned so much, could never=
be
made up nor atoned for in all the tremendous stretch of years that still lay
before me.
The house that we were bound for on this occas=
ion
was a "big house;" a generic title applied by us to the class of
residence that had a long carriage-drive through rhododendrons; and a porti=
co
propped by fluted pillars; and a grave butler who bolted back swing-doors, =
and
came down steps, and pretended to have entirely forgotten his familiar
intercourse with you at less serious moments; and a big hall, where no boot=
s or
shoes or upper garments were allowed to lie about frankly and easily, as wi=
th
us; and where, finally, people were apt to sit about dressed up as if they =
were
going on to a party.
The lady who received us was effusive to Aunt
Eliza and hollowly gracious to me. In ten seconds they had their heads toge=
ther
and were hard at it talking clothes. I was left high and dry on a straight-=
backed
chair, longing to kick the legs of it, yet not daring. For a time I was con=
tent
to stare; there was lots to stare at, high and low and around. Then the
inevitable fidgets came on, and scratching one's legs mitigated slightly, b=
ut
did not entirely disperse them. My two warders were still deep in clothes; I
slipped off my chair and edged cautiously around the room, exploring,
examining, recording.
Many strange, fine things lay along my
route--pictures and gimcracks on the walls, trinkets and globular old watch=
es
and snuff-boxes on the tables; and I took good care to finger everything wi=
thin
reach thoroughly and conscientiously. Some articles, in addition, I smelt. =
At last
in my orbit I happened on an open door, half concealed by the folds of a
curtain. I glanced carefully around. They were still deep in clothes, both
talking together, and I slipped through.
This was altogether a more sensible sort of ro=
om
that I had got into; for the walls were honestly upholstered with books, th=
ough
these for the most part glimmered provokingly through the glass doors of th=
eir
tall cases. I read their titles longingly, breathing on every accessible pa=
ne
of glass, for I dared not attempt to open the doors, with the enemy encampe=
d so
near. In the window, though, on a high sort of desk, there lay, all by itse=
lf,
a most promising-looking book, gorgeously bound. I raised the leaves by one
corner, and like scent from a pot-pourri jar there floated out a brief visi=
on
of blues and reds, telling of pictures, and pictures all highly coloured! H=
ere
was the right sort of thing at last, and my afternoon would not be entirely
wasted. I inclined an ear to the door by which I had entered. Like the brim=
ming
tide of a full-fed river the grand, eternal, inexhaustible clothes-problem
bubbled and eddied and surged along. It seemed safe enough. I slid the book=
off
its desk with some difficulty, for it was very fine and large, and staggere=
d with
it to the hearthrug--the only fit and proper place for books of quality, su=
ch
as this.
They were excellent hearthrugs in that house; =
soft
and wide, with the thickest of pile, and one's knees sank into them most
comfortably. When I got the book open there was a difficulty at first in ma=
king
the great stiff pages lie down. Most fortunately the coal-scuttle was actua=
lly at
my elbow, and it was easy to find a flat bit of coal to lay on the refracto=
ry
page. Really, it was just as if everything had been arranged for me. This w=
as
not such a bad sort of house after all.
The beginnings of the thing were gay borders--=
scrolls
and strap-work and diapered backgrounds, a maze of colour, with small missh=
apen
figures clambering cheerily up and down everywhere. But first I eagerly sca=
nned
what text there was in the middle, in order to get a hint of what it was all
about. Of course I was not going to waste any time in reading. A clue, a
sign-board, a finger-post was all I required. To my dismay and disgust it w=
as
all in a stupid foreign language! Really, the perversity of some people made
one at times almost despair of the whole race. However, the pictures remain=
ed;
pictures never lied, never shuffled nor evaded; and as for the story, I cou=
ld
invent it myself.
Over the page I went, shifting the bit of coal=
to
a new position; and, as the scheme of the picture disengaged itself from out
the medley of colour that met my delighted eyes, first there was a warm sen=
se
of familiarity, then a dawning recognition, and then--O then! along with bl=
issful
certainty came the imperious need to clasp my stomach with both hands, in o=
rder
to repress the shout of rapture that struggled to escape--it was my own lit=
tle
city!
I knew it well enough, I recognized it at once,
though I had never been quite so near it before. Here was the familiar gate=
way,
to the left that strange, slender tower with its grim, square head shot far
above the walls; to the right, outside the town, the hill--as of old--broke=
steeply
down to the sea. But to-day everything was bigger and fresher and clearer, =
the
walls seemed newly hewn, gay carpets were hung out over them, fair ladies a=
nd
long-haired children peeped and crowded on the battlements. Better still, t=
he
portcullis was up--I could even catch a glimpse of the sunlit square
within--and a dainty company was trooping through the gate on horseback, two
and two. Their horses, in trappings that swept the ground, were gay as
themselves; and they were the gayest crew, for dress and bearing, I had ever
yet beheld. It could mean nothing else but a wedding, I thought, this holid=
ay
attire, this festal and solemn entry; and, wedding or whatever it was, I me=
ant
to be there. This time I would not be balked by any grim portcullis; this t=
ime
I would slip in with the rest of the crowd, find out just what my little to=
wn
was like, within those exasperating walls that had so long confronted me, a=
nd,
moreover, have my share of the fun that was evidently going on inside.
Confident, yet breathless with expectation, I turned the page.
Joy! At last I was in it, at last I was on the
right side of those provoking walls; and, needless to say, I looked about me
with much curiosity. A public place, clearly, though not such as I was used=
to.
The houses at the back stood on a sort of colonnade, beneath which the peop=
le
jostled and crowded. The upper stories were all painted with wonderful
pictures. Above the straight line of the roofs the deep blue of a cloudless=
sky
stretched from side to side. Lords and ladies thronged the foreground, whil=
e on
a dais in the centre a gallant gentleman, just alighted off his horse, stoo=
ped
to the fingers of a girl as bravely dressed out as Selina's lady between the
saints; and round about stood venerable personages, robed in the most
variegated clothing. There were boys, too, in plenty, with tiny red caps on
their thick hair; and their shirts had bunched up and worked out at the wai=
st,
just as my own did so often, after chasing anybody; and each boy of them wo=
re
an odd pair of stockings, one blue and the other red. This system of attire=
went
straight to my heart. I had tried the same thing so often, and had met with=
so
much discouragement; and here, at last, was my justification, painted
deliberately in a grown-up book! I looked about for my saint-friends--the
armour-man and the other fellow--but they were not to be seen--Evidently th=
ey
were unable to get off duty, even for a wedding, and still stood on guard in
that green meadow down below. I was disappointed, too, that not an angel was
visible. One or two of them, surely, could easily have been spared for an h=
our,
to run up and see the show; and they would have been thoroughly at home her=
e,
in the midst of all the colour and the movement and the fun.
But it was time to get on, for clearly the
interest was only just beginning. Over went the next page, and there we wer=
e,
the whole crowd of us, assembled in a noble church. It was not easy to make=
out
exactly what was going on; but in the throng I was delighted to recognize m=
y angels
at last, happy and very much at home. They had managed to get leave off,
evidently, and must have run up the hill and scampered breathlessly through=
the
gate; and perhaps they cried a little when they found the square empty, and
thought the fun must be all over. Two of them had got hold of a great wax
candle apiece, as much as they could stagger under, and were tittering side=
ways
at each other as the grease ran bountifully over their clothes. A third had
strolled in among the company, and was chatting to a young gentleman, with =
whom
she appeared to be on the best of terms. Decidedly, this was the right bree=
d of
angel for us. None of your sick-bed or night nursery business for them!
Well, no doubt they were now being married, He=
and
She, just as always happened. And then, of course, they were going to live
happily ever after; and that was the part I wanted to get to. Storybooks we=
re
so stupid, always stopping at the point where they became really nice; but =
this
picture-story was only in its first chapters, and at last I was to have a
chance of knowing how people lived happily ever after. We would all go home
together, He and She, and the angels, and I; and the armour-man would be
invited to come and stay. And then the story would really begin, at the poi=
nt
where those other ones always left off. I turned the page, and found myself
free of the dim and splendid church and once more in the open country.
This was all right; this was just as it should=
be.
The sky was a fleckless blue, the flags danced in the breeze, and our merry
bridal party, with jest and laughter, jogged down to the water-side. I was =
through
the town by this time, and out on the other side of the hill, where I had
always wanted to be; and, sure enough, there was the harbour, all thick with
curly ships. Most of them were piled high with wedding-presents--bales of s=
ilk,
and gold and silver plate, and comfortable-looking bags suggesting bullion;=
and
the gayest ship of all lay close up to the carpeted landing-stage. Already =
the
bride was stepping daintily down the gangway, her ladies following primly, =
one
by one; a few minutes more and we should all be aboard, the hawsers would s=
plash
in the water, the sails would fill and strain. From the deck I should see t=
he
little walled town recede and sink and grow dim, while every plunge of our =
bows
brought us nearer to the happy island--it was an island we were bound for, I
knew well! Already I could see the island-people waving hands on the crowded
quay, whence the little houses ran up the hill to the castle, crowning all =
with
its towers and battlements. Once more we should ride together, a merry
procession, clattering up the steep street and through the grim gateway; and
then we should have arrived, then we should all dine together, then we shou=
ld have
reached home! And then--Ow! Ow! Ow!
Bitter it is to stumble out of an opalescent d=
ream
into the cold daylight; cruel to lose in a second a sea-voyage, an island, =
and
a castle that was to be practically your own; but cruellest and bitterest of
all to know, in addition to your loss, that the fingers of an angry aunt ha=
ve
you tight by the scruff of your neck. My beautiful book was gone too--ravis=
hed
from my grasp by the dressy lady, who joined in the outburst of denunciatio=
n as
heartily as if she had been a relative--and naught was left me but to blubb=
er
dismally, awakened of a sudden to the harshness of real things and the
unnumbered hostilities of the actual world. I cared little for their
reproaches, their abuse; but I sorrowed heartily for my lost ship, my vanis=
hed
island, my uneaten dinner, and for the knowledge that, if I wanted any ange=
ls
to play with, I must henceforth put up with the anaemic, night-gowned
nonentities that hovered over the bed of the Sunday-school child in the pag=
es
of the Sabbath Improver.
I was led ignominiously out of the house, in a
pulpy, watery state, while the butler handled his swing doors with a stony,
impassive countenance, intended for the deception of the very elect, though=
it
did not deceive me. I knew well enough that next time he was off duty, and =
strolled
around our way, we should meet in our kitchen as man to man, and I would pu=
nch
him and ask him riddles, and he would teach me tricks with corks and bits of
string. So his unsympathetic manner did not add to my depression.
I maintained a diplomatic blubber long after we
had been packed into our pony-carriage and the lodge-gate had clicked behind
us, because it served as a sort of armour-plating against heckling and argu=
ment
and abuse, and I was thinking hard and wanted to be let alone. And the thou=
ghts
that I was thinking were two.
First I thought, "I've got ahead of Charl=
otte
this time!"
And next I thought, "When I've grown up b=
ig,
and have money of my own, and a full-sized walking-stick, I will set out ea=
rly
one morning, and never stop till I get to that little walled town." Th=
ere
ought to be no real difficulty in the task. It only meant asking here and
asking there, and people were very obliging, and I could describe every sti=
ck
and stone of it.
As for the island which I had never even seen,
that was not so easy. Yet I felt confident that somehow, at some time, soon=
er
or later, I was destined to arrive.
=
It
happened one day that some ladies came to call, who were not at all the sor=
t I
was used to. They suffered from a grievance, so far as I could gather, and =
the
burden of their plaint was Man--Men in general and Man in particular. (Thou=
gh
the words were but spoken, I could clearly discern the capital M in their a=
cid
utterance.)
Of course I was not present officially, so to
speak. Down below, in my sub-world of chair-legs and hearthrugs and the
undersides of sofas, I was working out my own floor-problems, while they
babbled on far above my head, considering me as but a chair-leg, or even
something lower in the scale. Yet I was listening hard all the time, with t=
hat
respectful consideration one gives to all grown-up people's remarks, so lon=
g as
one knows no better.
It seemed a serious indictment enough, as they
rolled it out. In tact, considerateness, and right appreciation, as well as=
in
taste and aesthetic sensibilities--we failed at every point, we breeched an=
d bearded
prentice-jobs of Nature; and I began to feel like collapsing on the carpet =
from
sheer spiritual anaemia. But when one of them, with a swing of her skirt,
prostrated a whole regiment of my brave tin soldiers, and never apologized =
nor
even offered her aid toward revivifying the battle-line, I could not help
feeling that in tactfulness and consideration for others she was still a li=
ttle
to seek. And I said as much, with some directness of language.
That was the end of me, from a society point of
view. Rudeness to visitors was the unpardonable sin, and in two seconds I h=
ad
my marching orders, and was sullenly wending my way to the St. Helena of th=
e nursery.
As I climbed the stair, my thoughts reverted somehow to a game we had been
playing that very morning. It was the good old game of Rafts,--a game that =
will
be played till all the oceans are dry and all the trees in the world are
felled--and after. And we were all crowded together on the precarious little
platform, and Selina occupied every bit as much room as I did, and Charlott=
e's
legs didn't dangle over any more than Harold's. The pitiless sun overhead b=
eat
on us all with tropic impartiality, and the hungry sharks, whose fins scored
the limitless Pacific stretching out on every side, were impelled by an
appetite that made no exceptions as to sex. When we shared the ultimate bis=
cuit
and circulated the last water-keg, the girls got an absolute fourth apiece,=
and
neither more nor less; and the only partiality shown was entirely in favour=
of
Charlotte, who was allowed to perceive and to hail the saviour-sail on the
horizon. And this was only because it was her turn to do so, not because she
happened to be this or that. Surely, the rules of the raft were the rules of
life, and in what, then, did these visitor-ladies' grievance consist?
Puzzled and a little sulky, I pushed open the =
door
of the deserted nursery, where the raft that had rocked beneath so many hop=
es
and fears still occupied the ocean-floor. To the dull eye, that merely tarr=
ies upon
the outsides of things, it might have appeared unromantic and even unraftli=
ke,
consisting only as it did of a round sponge-bath on a bald deal towel-horse
placed flat on the floor. Even to myself much of the recent raft-glamour se=
emed
to have departed as I half-mechanically stepped inside and curled myself up=
in
it for a solitary voyage. Once I was in, however, the old magic and mystery
returned in full flood, when I discovered that the inequalities of the
towel-horse caused the bath to rock, slightly, indeed, but easily and
incessantly. A few minutes of this delightful motion, and one was fairly
launched. So those women below didn't want us? Well, there were other women,
and other places, that did. And this was going to be no scrambling raft-aff=
air,
but a full-blooded voyage of the Man, equipped and purposeful, in search of=
what
was his rightful own.
Whither should I shape my course, and what sor=
t of
vessel should I charter for the voyage? The shipping of all England was min=
e to
pick from, and the far corners of the globe were my rightful inheritance. A=
frigate,
of course, seemed the natural vehicle for a boy of spirit to set out in. And
yet there was something rather "uppish" in commanding a frigate at
the very first set-off, and little spread was left for the ambition. Frigat=
es,
too, could always be acquired later by sheer adventure; and your real hero
generally saved up a square-rigged ship for the final achievement and the r=
apt
return. No, it was a schooner that I was aboard of--a schooner whose masts
raked devilishly as the leaping seas hissed along her low black gunwale. Ma=
ny
hairbrained youths started out on a mere cutter; but I was prudent, and bes=
ides
I had some inkling of the serious affairs that were ahead.
I have said I was already on board; and, indee=
d,
on this occasion I was too hungry for adventure to linger over what would h=
ave
been a special delight at a period of more leisure--the dangling about the
harbour, the choosing your craft, selecting your shipmates, stowing your ca=
rgo,
and fitting up your private cabin with everything you might want to put you=
r hand
on in any emergency whatever. I could not wait for that. Out beyond soundin=
gs
the big seas were racing westward and calling me, albatrosses hovered
motionless, expectant of a comrade, and a thousand islands held each of the=
m a
fresh adventure, stored up, hidden away, awaiting production, expressly sav=
ed
for me. We were humming, close-hauled, down the Channel, spray in the eyes =
and
the shrouds thrilling musically, in much less time than the average man wou=
ld
have taken to transfer his Gladstone bag and his rugs from the train to a
sheltered place on the promenade-deck of the tame daily steamer.
So long as we were in pilotage I stuck manfull=
y to
the wheel. The undertaking was mine, and with it all its responsibilities, =
and
there was some tricky steering to be done as we sped by headland and bay, e=
re we
breasted the great seas outside and the land fell away behind us. But as so=
on
as the Atlantic had opened out I began to feel that it would be rather nice=
to
take tea by myself in my own cabin, and it therefore became necessary to in=
vent
a comrade or two, to take their turn at the wheel.
This was easy enough. A friend or two of my own
age, from among the boys I knew; a friend or two from characters in the boo=
ks I
knew; and a friend or two from No-man's-land, where every fellow's a born
sailor; and the crew was complete. I addressed them on the poop, divided th=
em into
watches, gave instructions I should be summoned on the first sign of pirate=
s,
whales, or Frenchmen, and retired below to a well-earned spell of relaxatio=
n.
That was the right sort of cabin that I stepped
into, shutting the door behind me with a click. Of course, fire-arms were t=
he
first thing I looked for, and there they were, sure enough, in their racks,
dozens of 'em--double-barrelled guns, and repeating-rifles, and long pistol=
s, and
shiny plated revolvers. I rang up the steward and ordered tea, with scones,=
and
jam in its native pots--none of your finicking shallow glass dishes; and, w=
hen
properly streaked with jam, and blown out with tea, I went through the armo=
ury,
clicked the rifles and revolvers, tested the edges of the cutlasses with my
thumb, and filled the cartridge-belts chock-full. Everything was there, and=
of
the best quality, just as if I had spent a whole fortnight knocking about
Plymouth and ordering things. Clearly, if this cruise came to grief, it wou=
ld
not be for want of equipment.
Just as I was beginning on the lockers and the
drawers, the watch reported icebergs on both bows--and, what was more to the
point, coveys of Polar bears on the icebergs. I grasped a rifle or two, and
hastened on deck. The spectacle was indeed magnificent--it generally is, wi=
th icebergs
on both bows, and these were exceptionally enormous icebergs. But I hadn't =
come
there to paint Academy pictures, so the captain's gig was in the water and
manned almost ere the boatswain's whistle had ceased sounding, and we were
pulling hard for the Polar bears--myself and the rifles in the stern-sheets=
.
I have rarely enjoyed better shooting than I g=
ot during
that afternoon's tramp over the icebergs. Perhaps I was in specially good f=
orm;
perhaps the bears "rose" well. Anyhow, the bag was a portentous o=
ne.
In later days, on reading of the growing scarcity of Polar bears, my consci=
ence
has pricked me; but that afternoon I experienced no compunction. Neverthele=
ss,
when the huge pile of skins had been hoisted on board, and a stiff grog had
been served out to the crew of the captain's gig, I ordered the schooner's =
head
to be set due south. For icebergs were played out, for the moment, and it w=
as
getting to be time for something more tropical.
Tropical was a mild expression of what was to
come, as was shortly proved. It was about three bells in the next day's
forenoon watch when the look-out man first sighted the pirate brigantine. I
disliked the looks of her from the first, and, after piping all hands to
quarters, had the brass carronade on the fore-deck crammed with grape to th=
e muzzle.
This proved a wise precaution. For the flagiti=
ous
pirate craft, having crept up to us under the colours of the Swiss Republic=
, a
state with which we were just then on the best possible terms, suddenly sho=
ok
out the skull-and-cross-bones at her masthead, and let fly with round-shot =
at
close quarters, knocking into pieces several of my crew, who could ill be
spared. The sight of their disconnected limbs aroused my ire to its utmost
height, and I let them have the contents of the brass carronade, with ghast=
ly
effect. Next moment the hulls of the two ships were grinding together, the =
cold
steel flashed from its scabbard, and the death-grapple had begun.
In spite of the deadly work of my grape-gorged
carronade, our foe still outnumbered us, I reckoned, by three to one. Honour
forbade my fixing it at a lower figure--this was the minimum rate at which =
one
dared to do business with pirates. They were stark veterans, too, every man
seamed with ancient sabre-cuts, whereas my crew had many of them hardly att=
ained
the maturity which is the gift of ten long summers--and the whole thing was=
so sudden
that I had no time to invent a reinforcement of riper years. It was not
surprising, therefore, that my dauntless boarding-party, axe in hand and
cutlass between teeth, fought their way to the pirates' deck only to be
repulsed again and yet again, and that our planks were soon slippery with o=
ur
own ungrudged and inexhaustible blood. At this critical point in the confli=
ct,
the bo'sun, grasping me by the arm, drew my attention to a magnificent Brit=
ish
man-of-war, just hove to in the offing, while the signalman, his glass at h=
is
eye, reported that she was inquiring whether we wanted any assistance or pr=
eferred
to go through with the little job ourselves.
This veiled attempt to share our laurels with =
us,
courteously as it was worded, put me on my mettle. Wiping the blood out of =
my
eyes, I ordered the signalman to reply instantly, with the half-dozen or so=
of
flags that he had at his disposal, that much as we appreciated the valour of
the regular service, and the delicacy of spirit that animated its commander=
s,
still this was an orthodox case of young gentleman-adventurer versus the
unshaved pirate, and Her Majesty's Marine had nothing to do but to form the
usual admiring and applauding background. Then, rallying round me the remna=
nt
of my faithful crew, I selected a fresh cutlass (I had worn out three alrea=
dy)
and plunged once more into the pleasing carnage.
The result was not long doubtful. Indeed, I co=
uld
not allow it to be, as I was already getting somewhat bored with the pirate
business, and was wanting to get on to something more southern and sensuous.
All serious resistance came to an end as soon as I had reached the quarter-=
deck
and cut down the pirate chief--a fine black-bearded fellow in his way, but
hardly up to date in his parry-and-thrust business. Those whom our cutlasses
had spared were marched out along their own plank, in the approved old fash=
ion;
and in tune the scuppers relieved the decks of the blood that made traffic
temporarily impossible. And all the time the British-man-of-war admired and
applauded in the offing.
As soon as we had got through with the necessa=
ry
throat-cutting and swabbing-up all hands set to work to discover treasure; =
and
soon the deck shone bravely with ingots and Mexican dollars and church plat=
e. There
were ropes of pearls, too, and big stacks of nougat; and rubies, and gold
watches, and Turkish Delight in tubs. But I left these trifles to my crew, =
and
continued the search alone. For by this time I had determined that there sh=
ould
be a Princess on board, carried off to be sold in captivity to the bold bad
Moors, and now with beating heart awaiting her rescue by me, the Perseus of=
her
dreams.
I came upon her at last in the big state-cabin=
in
the stern; and she wore a holland pinafore over her Princess-clothes, and s=
he had
brown wavy hair, hanging down her back, just like--well, never mind, she ha=
d brown
wavy hair. When gentle-folk meet, courtesies pass; and I will not weary oth=
er
people with relating all the compliments and counter-compliments that we
exchanged, all in the most approved manner. Occasions like this, when tongu=
es
wagged smoothly and speech flowed free, were always especially pleasing to =
me,
who am naturally inclined to be tongue-tied with women. But at last ceremony
was over, and we sat on the table and swung our legs and agreed to be fast
friends. And I showed her my latest knife--one-bladed, horn-handled, terrif=
ic,
hung round my neck with string; and she showed me the chiefest treasures th=
e ship
contained, hidden away in a most private and particular locker--a musical b=
ox
with a glass top that let you see the works, and a railway train with real
lines and a real tunnel, and a tin iron-clad that followed a magnet, and was
ever so much handier in many respects than the real full-sized thing that s=
till
lay and applauded in the offing.
There was high feasting that night in my cabin=
. We
invited the captain of the man-of-war--one could hardly do less, it seemed =
to
me--and the Princess took one end of the table and I took the other, and the
captain was very kind and nice, and told us fairy-stories, and asked us bot=
h to
come and stay with him next Christmas, and promised we should have some hun=
ting,
on real ponies. When he left I gave him some ingots and things, and saw him
into his boat; and then I went round the ship and addressed the crew in sev=
eral
set speeches, which moved them deeply, and with my own hands loaded up the
carronade with grape-shot till it ran over at the mouth. This done, I retir=
ed
into the cabin with the Princess, and locked the door. And first we started=
the
musical box, taking turns to wind it up; and then we made toffee in the
cabin-stove; and then we ran the train round and round the room, and through
and through the tunnel; and lastly we swam the tin ironclad in the bath, wi=
th
the soap-dish for a pirate.
Next morning the air was rich with spices,
porpoises rolled and gambolled round the bows, and the South Sea Islands lay
full in view (they were the real South Sea Islands, of course--not the badl=
y furnished
journeymen-islands that are to be perceived on the map). As for the pirate
brigantine and the man-of-war, I don't really know what became of them. They
had played their part very well, for the time, but I wasn't going to bother=
to
account for them, so I just let them evaporate quietly. The islands provided
plenty of fresh occupation. For here were little bays of silvery sand, dott=
ed
with land-crabs; groves of palm-trees wherein monkeys frisked and pelted ea=
ch
other with cocoanuts; and caves, and sites for stockades, and hidden treasu=
res
significantly indicated by skulls, in riotous plenty; while birds and beast=
s of
every colour and all latitudes made pleasing noises which excited the sport=
ing instinct.
The islands lay conveniently close together, w=
hich
necessitated careful steering as we threaded the devious and intricate chan=
nels
that separated them. Of course no one else could be trusted at the wheel, s=
o it
is not surprising that for some time I quite forgot that there was such a t=
hing
as a Princess on board. This is too much the masculine way, whenever there's
any real business doing. However, I remembered her as soon as the anchor was
dropped, and I went below and consoled her, and we had breakfast together, =
and
she was allowed to "pour out," which quite made up for everything.
When breakfast was over we ordered out the captain's gig, and rowed all abo=
ut
the islands, and paddled, and explored, and hunted bisons and beetles and
butterflies, and found everything we wanted. And I gave her pink shells and
tortoises and great milky pearls and little green lizards; and she gave me
guineapigs, and coral to make into, waistcoat-buttons; and tame sea-otters,=
and
a real pirate's powder-horn. It was a prolific day and a long-lasting one, =
and weary
were we with all our hunting and our getting and our gathering, when at las=
t we
clambered into the captain's gig and rowed back to a late tea.
The following day my conscience rose up and
accused me. This was not what I had come out to do. These triflings with pe=
arls
and parrakeets, these al fresco luncheons off yams and bananas--there was no
"making of history" about them. I resolved that without further
dallying I would turn to and capture the French frigate, according to the
original programme. So we upped anchor with the morning tide, and set all s=
ail for
San Salvador.
Of course I had no idea where San Salvador rea=
lly
was. I haven't now, for that matter. But it seemed a right-sounding sort of
name for a place that was to have a bay that was to hold a French frigate t=
hat
was to be cut out; so, as I said, we sailed for San Salvador, and made the =
bay about
eight bells that evening, and saw the top-masts of the frigate over the
headland that sheltered her. And forthwith there was summoned a Council of =
War.
It is a very serious matter, a Council of War.=
We
had not held one hitherto, pirates and truck of that sort not calling for s=
uch
solemn treatment. But in an affair that might almost be called internationa=
l, it
seemed well to proceed gravely and by regular steps. So we met in my cabin-=
-the
Princess, and the bo'sun, and a boy from the real-life lot, and a man from
among the book-men, and a fellow from No-man's-land, and myself in the chai=
r.
The bo'sun had taken part in so many cuttings-out during his past career th=
at
practically he did all the talking, and was the Council of War himself. It =
was
to be an affair of boats, he explained. A boat's-crew would be told off to =
cut
the cables, and two boats'-crews to climb stealthily on board and overpower=
the
sleeping Frenchmen, and two more boats'-crews to haul the doomed vessel out=
of the
bay. This made rather a demand on my limited resources as to crews; but I w=
as
prepared to stretch a point in a case like this, and I speedily brought my
numbers up to the requisite efficiency.
The night was both moonless and starless--I had
arranged all that--when the boats pushed off from the side of our vessel, a=
nd
made their way toward the ship that, unfortunately for itself, had been sin=
gled
out by Fate to carry me home in triumph. I was in excellent spirits, and, i=
ndeed,
as I stepped over the side, a lawless idea crossed my mind, of discovering
another Princess on board the frigate--a French one this time; I had heard =
that
that sort was rather nice. But I abandoned the notion at once, recollecting
that the heroes of all history had always been noted for their unswerving
constancy. The French captain was snug in bed when I clambered in through h=
is
cabin window and held a naked cutlass to his throat. Naturally he was surpr=
ised
and considerably alarmed, till I discharged one of my set speeches at him,
pointing out that my men already had his crew under hatchways, that his ves=
sel
was even then being towed out of harbour, and that, on his accepting the si=
tuation
with a good grace, his person and private property would be treated with al=
l the
respect due to the representative of a great nation for which I entertained
feelings of the profoundest admiration and regard and all that sort of thin=
g.
It was a beautiful speech. The Frenchman at once presented me with his paro=
le,
in the usual way, and, in a reply of some power and pathos, only begged tha=
t I
would retire a moment while he put on his trousers. This I gracefully conse=
nted
to do, and the incident ended.
Two of my boats were sunk by the fire from the
forts on the shore, and several brave fellows were severely wounded in the
hand-to-hand struggle with the French crew for the possession of the frigat=
e.
But the bo'sun's admirable strategy, and my own reckless gallantry in secur=
ing
the French captain at the outset, had the fortunate result of keeping down =
the death-rate.
It was all for the sake of the Princess that I had arranged so comparatively
tame a victory. For myself, I rather liked a fair amount of blood-letting,
red-hot shot, and flying splinters. But when you have girls about the place,
they have got to be considered to a certain extent.
There was another supper-party that night, in =
my
cabin, as soon as we had got well out to sea; and the French captain, who w=
as
the guest of the evening, was in the greatest possible form. We became sworn
friends, and exchanged invitations to come and stay at each other's homes, =
and really
it was quite difficult to induce him to take his leave. But at last he and =
his
crew were bundled into their boats; and after I had pressed some pirate bul=
lion
upon them--delicately, of course, but in a pleasant manner that admitted of=
no
denial--the gallant fellows quite broke down, and we parted, our bosoms hea=
ving
with a full sense of each other's magnanimity and good fellowship.
The next day, which was nearly all taken up wi=
th
shifting our quarters into the new frigate, so honourably and easily acquir=
ed,
was a very pleasant one, as everyone who has gone up in the world and moved
into a larger house will readily understand. At last I had grim, black guns=
all
along each side, instead of a rotten brass carronade: at last I had a squar=
e-rigged
ship, with real yards, and a proper quarter-deck. In fact, now that I had
soared as high as could be hoped in a single voyage, it seemed about time t=
o go
home and cut a dash and show off a bit. The worst of this ocean-theatre was=
, it
held no proper audience. It was hard, of course, to relinquish all the
adventures that still lay untouched in these Southern seas. Whaling, for
instance, had not yet been entered upon; the joys of exploration, and stran=
ge
inland cities innocent of the white man, still awaited me; and the book of
wrecks and rescues was not yet even opened. But I had achieved a frigate an=
d a Princess,
and that was not so bad for a beginning, and more than enough to show off w=
ith
before those dull unadventurous folk who continued on their mill-horse roun=
d at
home.
The voyage home was a record one, so far as me=
re
speed was concerned, and all adventures were scornfully left behind, as we
rattled along, for other adventurers who had still their laurels to win. Ha=
rdly
later than the noon of next day we dropped anchor in Plymouth Sound, and he=
ard
the intoxicating clamour of bells, the roar of artillery, and the hoarse ch=
eers
of an excited populace surging down to the quays, that told us we were being
appreciated at something like our true merits. The Lord Mayor was waiting t=
here
to receive us, and with him several Admirals of the Fleet, as we walked down
the lane of pushing, enthusiastic Devonians, the Princess and I, and our wa=
r-worn,
weather-beaten, spoil-laden crew. Everybody was very nice about the French
frigate, and the pirate booty, and the scars still fresh on our young limbs;
yet I think what I liked best of all was, that they all pronounced the Prin=
cess
to be a duck, and a peerless, brown-haired darling, and a true mate for a h=
ero,
and of the right Princess-breed.
The air was thick with invitations and with the
smell of civic banquets in a forward stage; but I sternly waved all festivi=
ties
aside. The coaches-and-four I had ordered immediately on arriving were bloc=
king
the whole of the High Street; the champing of bits and the pawing of gravel=
summoned
us to take our seats and be off, to where the real performance awaited us,
compared with which all this was but an interlude. I placed the Princess in=
the
most highly gilded coach of the lot, and mounted to my place at her side; a=
nd
the rest of the crew scrambled on board of the others as best they might. T=
he
whips cracked and the crowd scattered and cheered as we broke into a gallop=
for
home. The noisy bells burst into a farewell peal--
Yes, that was undoubtedly the usual bell for
school-room tea. And high time too, I thought, as I tumbled out of the bath,
which was beginning to feel very hard to the projecting portions of my fram=
e-work.
As I trotted downstairs, hungrier even than usual, farewells floated up fro=
m the
front door, and I heard the departing voices of our angular elderly visitor=
s as
they made their way down the walk. Man was still catching it, apparently--M=
an
was getting it hot. And much Man cared! The seas were his, and their island=
s;
he had his frigates for the taking, his pirates and their hoards for an
unregarded cutlass-stroke or two; and there were Princesses in plenty waiti=
ng
for him somewhere--Princesses of the right sort.
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>THE RELUCTANT DRAGON<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
=
Footprints
in the snow have been unfailing provokers of sentiment ever since snow was
first a white wonder in this drab-coloured world of ours. In a poetry-book
presented to one of us by an aunt, there was a poem by one Wordsworth in wh=
ich
they stood out strongly with a picture all to themselves, too--but we didn't
think very highly either of the poem or the sentiment. Footprints in the sa=
nd,
now, were quite another matter, and we grasped Crusoe's attitude of mind mu=
ch
more easily than Wordsworth's. Excitement and mystery, curiosity and
suspense--these were the only sentiments that tracks, whether in sand or in
snow, were able to arouse in us.
We had awakened early that winter morning, puz=
zled
at first by the added light that filled the room. Then, when the truth at l=
ast
fully dawned on us and we knew that snow-balling was no longer a wistful dr=
eam,
but a solid certainty waiting for us outside, it was a mere brute fight for=
the
necessary clothes, and the lacing of boots seemed a clumsy invention, and t=
he
buttoning of coats an unduly tedious form of fastening, with all that snow
going to waste at our very door.
When dinner-time came we had to be dragged in =
by
the scruff of our necks. The short armistice over, the combat was resumed; =
but
presently Charlotte and I, a little weary of contests and of missiles that =
ran
shudderingly down inside one's clothes, forsook the trampled battle-field of
the lawn and went exploring the blank virgin spaces of the white world that=
lay
beyond. It stretched away unbroken on every side of us, this mysterious soft
garment under which our familiar world had so suddenly hidden itself. Faint
imprints showed where a casual bird had alighted, but of other traffic there
was next to no sign; which made these strange tracks all the more puzzling.=
We came across them first at the corner of the
shrubbery, and pored over them long, our hands on our knees. Experienced
trappers that we knew ourselves to be, it was annoying to be brought up
suddenly by a beast we could not at once identify.
"Don't you know?" said Charlotte, ra=
ther
scornfully. "Thought you knew all the beasts that ever was."
This put me on my mettle, and I hastily rattled
off a string of animal names embracing both the arctic and the tropic zones,
but without much real confidence.
"No," said Charlotte, on considerati=
on;
"they won't any of 'em quite do. Seems like something lizardy. Did you=
say
a iguanodon? Might be that, p'raps. But that's not British, and we want a r=
eal
British beast. I think it's a dragon!"
"'T isn't half big enough," I object=
ed.
"Well, all dragons must be small to begin
with," said Charlotte: "like everything else. P'raps this is a li=
ttle
dragon who's got lost. A little dragon would be rather nice to have. He mig=
ht
scratch and spit, but he couldn't do anything really. Let's track him
down!"
So we set off into the wide snow-clad world, h=
and
in hand, our hearts big with expectation,--complacently confident that by a=
few
smudgy traces in the snow we were in a fair way to capture a half-grown spe=
cimen
of a fabulous beast.
We ran the monster across the paddock and along
the hedge of the next field, and then he took to the road like any tame
civilized tax-payer. Here his tracks became blended with and lost among more
ordinary footprints, but imagination and a fixed idea will do a great deal,=
and
we were sure we knew the direction a dragon would naturally take. The trace=
s,
too, kept reappearing at intervals--at least Charlotte maintained they did,=
and
as it was her dragon I left the following of the slot to her and trotted al=
ong
peacefully, feeling that it was an expedition anyhow and something was sure=
to
come out of it.
Charlotte took me across another field or two,=
and
through a copse, and into a fresh road; and I began to feel sure it was only
her confounded pride that made her go on pretending to see dragon-tracks
instead of owning she was entirely at fault, like a reasonable person. At l=
ast
she dragged me excitedly through a gap in a hedge of an obviously private c=
haracter;
the waste, open world of field and hedge row disappeared, and we found
ourselves in a garden, well-kept, secluded, most undragon-haunted in
appearance. Once inside, I knew where we were. This was the garden of my fr=
iend
the circus-man, though I had never approached it before by a lawless gap, f=
rom
this unfamiliar side. And here was the circus-man himself, placidly smoking=
a
pipe as he strolled up and down the walks. I stepped up to him and asked him
politely if he had lately seen a Beast.
"May I inquire," he said, with all
civility, "what particular sort of a Beast you may happen to be looking
for?"
"It's a lizardy sort of Beast," I
explained. "Charlotte says it 's a dragon, but she doesn't really know
much about beasts."
The circus-man looked round about him slowly.
"I don't think," he said, "that I've seen a dragon in these
parts recently. But if I come across one I'll know it belongs to you, and I=
'll
have him taken round to you at once."
"Thank you very much," said Charlott=
e,
"but don't trouble about it, please, 'cos p'raps it isn't a dragon aft=
er
all. Only I thought I saw his little footprints in the snow, and we followed
'em up, and they seemed to lead right in here, but maybe it's all a mistake,
and thank you all the same."
"Oh, no trouble at all," said the
circus-man, cheerfully. "I should be only too pleased. But of course, =
as
you say, it may be a mistake. And it's getting dark, and he seems to have g=
ot
away for the present, whatever he is. You'd better come in and have some te=
a.
I'm quite alone, and we'll make a roaring fire, and I've got the biggest Bo=
ok
of Beasts you ever saw. It's got every beast in the world, and all of 'em c=
oloured;
and we'll try and find your beast in it!"
We were always ready for tea at any time, and
especially when combined with beasts. There was marmalade, too, and
apricot-jam, brought in expressly for us; and afterwards the beast-book was
spread out, and, as the man had truly said, it contained every sort of beast
that had ever been in the world.
The striking of six o'clock set the more prude=
nt
Charlotte nudging me, and we recalled ourselves with an effort from Beastla=
nd,
and reluctantly stood up to go.
"Here, I 'm coming along with you," =
said
the circus-man. "I want another pipe, and a walk'll do me good. You ne=
edn't
talk to me unless you like."
Our spirits rose to their wonted level again. =
The
way had seemed so long, the outside world so dark and eerie, after the brig=
ht
warm room and the highly-coloured beast-book. But a walk with a real Man--w=
hy, that
was a treat in itself! We set off briskly, the Man in the middle. I looked =
up
at him and wondered whether I should ever live to smoke a big pipe with that
careless sort of majesty! But Charlotte, whose young mind was not set on
tobacco as a possible goal, made herself heard from the other side.
"Now, then," she said, "tell us=
a
story, please, won't you?"
The Man sighed heavily and looked about him.
"I knew it," he groaned. "I knew I should have to tell a sto=
ry.
Oh, why did I leave my pleasant fireside? Well, I will tell you a story. On=
ly
let me think a minute."
So he thought a minute, and then he told us th=
is
story.
=
Long
ago--might have been hundreds of years ago--in a cottage half-way between t=
his
village and yonder shoulder with his wife and their little son. Now the
shepherd spent his days--and at certain times of the year his nights too--u=
p on
the wide ocean-bosom of the Downs, with only the sun and the stars and the
sheep for company, and the friendly chattering world of men and women far o=
ut
of sight and hearing. But his little son, when he wasn't helping his father,
and often when he was as well, spent much of his time buried in big volumes
that he borrowed from the affable gentry and interested parsons of the coun=
try
round about. And his parents were very fond of him, and rather proud of him
too, though they didn't let on in his hearing, so he was left to go his own=
way
and read as much as he liked; and instead of frequently getting a cuff on t=
he side
of the head, as might very well have happened to him, he was treated more or
less as an equal by his parents, who sensibly thought it a very fair divisi=
on
of labour that they should supply the practical knowledge, and he the
book-learning. They knew that book-learning often came in useful at a pinch=
, in
spite of what their neighbours said. What the Boy chiefly dabbled in was
natural history and fairy-tales, and he just took them as they came, in a
sandwichy sort of way, without making any distinctions; and really his cour=
se
of reading strikes one as rather sensible.
One evening the shepherd, who for some nights =
past
had been disturbed and preoccupied, and off his usual mental balance, came =
home
all of a tremble, and, sitting down at the table where his wife and son were
peacefully employed, she with her seam, he in following out the adventures =
of
the Giant with no Heart in his Body, exclaimed with much agitation:
"It's all up with me, Maria! Never no more
can I go up on them there Downs, was it ever so!"
"Now don't you take on like that," s=
aid
his wife, who was a very sensible woman: "but tell us all about it fir=
st,
whatever it is as has given you this shake-up, and then me and you and the =
son
here, between us, we ought to be able to get to the bottom of it!"
"It began some nights ago," said the
shepherd. "You know that cave up there--I never liked it, somehow, and=
the
sheep never liked it neither, and when sheep don't like a thing there's
generally some reason for it. Well, for some time past there's been faint
noises coming from that cave--noises like heavy sighings, with grunts mixed=
up
in them; and sometimes a snoring, far away down--real snoring, yet somehow =
not
honest snoring, like you and me o'nights, you know!"
"I know," remarked the Boy, quietly.=
"Of course I was terrible frightened,&quo=
t;
the shepherd went on; "yet somehow I couldn't keep away. So this very
evening, before I come down, I took a cast round by the cave, quietly. And
there--O Lord! there I saw him at last, as plain as I see you!"
"Saw who?" said his wife, beginning =
to
share in her husband's nervous terror.
"Why him, I 'm a telling you!" said =
the
shepherd. "He was sticking half-way out of the cave, and seemed to be
enjoying of the cool of the evening in a poetical sort of way. He was as bi=
g as
four cart-horses, and all covered with shiny scales--deep-blue scales at the
top of him, shading off to a tender sort o' green below. As he breathed, th=
ere
was that sort of flicker over his nostrils that you see over our chalk road=
s on
a baking windless day in summer. He had his chin on his paws, and I should =
say
he was meditating about things. Oh, yes, a peaceable sort o beast enough, a=
nd
not ramping or carrying on or doing anything but what was quite right and
proper. I admit all that. And yet, what am I to do? Scales, you know, and
claws, and a tail for certain, though I didn't see that end of him--I ain't
used to 'em, and I don't hold with 'em, and that 's a fact!"
The Boy, who had apparently been absorbed in h=
is
book during his father s recital, now closed the volume, yawned, clasped his
hands behind his head, and said sleepily:
"It's all right, father. Don't you worry.
It's only a dragon."
"Only a dragon?" cried his father.
"What do you mean, sitting there, you and your dragons? Only a dragon
indeed! And what do you know about it?"
"'Cos it is, and 'cos I do know,"
replied the Boy, quietly. "Look here, father, you know we've each of us
got our line. You know about sheep, and weather, and things; I know about
dragons. I always said, you know, that that cave up there was a dragon-cave=
. I
always said it must have belonged to a dragon some time, and ought to belon=
g to
a dragon now, if rules count for anything. Well, now you tell me it has got=
a
dragon, and so that's all right. I'm not half as much surprised as when you
told me it hadn't got a dragon. Rules always come right if you wait quietly=
. Now,
please, just leave this all to me. And I'll stroll up to-morrow morning--no=
, in
the morning I can't, I've got a whole heap of things to do--well, perhaps in
the evening, if I'm quite free, I'll go up and have a talk to him, and you'=
ll
find it'll be all right. Only, please, don't you go worrying round there
without me. You don't understand 'em a bit, and they're very sensitive, you
know!"
"He's quite right, father," said the
sensible mother. "As he says, dragons is his line and not ours. He's
wonderful knowing about book-beasts, as every one allows. And to tell the
truth, I'm not half happy in my own mind, thinking of that poor animal lying
alone up there, without a bit o' hot supper or anyone to change the news wi=
th;
and maybe we'll be able to do something for him; and if he ain't quite
respectable our Boy'll find it out quick enough. He's got a pleasant sort o'
way with him that makes everybody tell him everything."
Next day, after he'd had his tea, the Boy stro=
lled
up the chalky track that led to the summit of the Downs; and there, sure
enough, he found the dragon, stretched lazily on the sward in front of his
cave. The view from that point was a magnificent one. To the right and left,
the bare and billowy leagues of Downs; in front, the vale, with its cluster=
ed homesteads,
its threads of white roads running through orchards and well-tilled acreage,
and, far away, a hint of grey old cities on the horizon. A cool breeze play=
ed
over the surface of the grass and the silver shoulder of a large moon was
showing above distant junipers. No wonder the dragon seemed in a peaceful a=
nd
contented mood; indeed, as the Boy approached he could hear the beast purri=
ng
with a happy regularity. "Well, we live and learn!" he said to hi=
mself.
"None of my books ever told me that dragons purred!
"Hullo, dragon!" said the Boy, quiet=
ly,
when he had got up to him.
The dragon, on hearing the approaching footste=
ps,
made the beginning of a courteous effort to rise. But when he saw it was a =
Boy,
he set his eyebrows severely.
"Now don't you hit me," he said;
"or bung stones, or squirt water, or anything. I won't have it, I tell
you!"
"Not goin' to hit you," said the Boy
wearily, dropping on the grass beside the beast: "and don't, for goodn=
ess'
sake, keep on saying 'Don't;' I hear so much of it, and it's monotonous, and
makes me tired. I've simply looked in to ask you how you were and all that =
sort
of thing; but if I'm in the way I can easily clear out. I've lots of friend=
s,
and no one can say I'm in the habit of shoving myself in where I'm not
wanted!"
"No, no, don't go off in a huff," sa=
id
the dragon, hastily; "fact is,--I 'm as happy up here as the day's lon=
g;
never without an occupation, dear fellow, never without an occupation! And =
yet,
between ourselves, it is a trifle dull at times."
The Boy bit off a stalk of grass and chewed it.
"Going to make a long stay here?" he asked, politely.
"Can't hardly say at present," repli=
ed
the dragon. "It seems a nice place enough--but I've only been here a s=
hort
time, and one must look about and reflect and consider before settling down.
It's rather a serious thing, settling down. Besides--now I 'm going to tell=
you
something! You'd never guess it if you tried ever so!--fact is, I'm such a
confoundedly lazy beggar!"
"You surprise me," said the Boy,
civilly.
"It's the sad truth," the dragon went
on, settling down between his paws and evidently delighted to have found a
listener at last: "and I fancy that's really how I came to be here. You
see all the other fellows were so active and earnest and all that sort of
thing--always rampaging, and skirmishing, and scouring the desert sands, and
pacing the margin of the sea, and chasing knights all over the place, and
devouring damsels, and going on generally--whereas I liked to get my meals
regular and then to prop my back against a bit of rock and snooze a bit, and
wake up and think of things going on and how they kept going on just the sa=
me,
you know! So when it happened I got fairly caught."
"When what happened, please?" asked =
the
Boy.
"That's just what I don't precisely
know," said the dragon. "I suppose the earth sneezed, or shook
itself, or the bottom dropped out of something. Anyhow there was a shake an=
d a
roar and a general stramash, and I found myself miles away underground and
wedged in as tight as tight. Well, thank goodness, my wants are few, and at=
any
rate I had peace and quietness and wasn't always being asked to come along =
and
do something. And I've got such an active mind--always occupied, I assure y=
ou!
But time went on, and there was a certain sameness about the life, and at l=
ast
I began to think it would be fun to work my way upstairs and see what you o=
ther
fellows were doing. So I scratched and burrowed, and worked this way and th=
at
way and at last I came out through this cave here. And I like the country, =
and
the view, and the people--what I've seen of 'em--and on the whole I feel
inclined to settle down here."
"What's your mind always occupied
about?" asked the Boy. "That's what I want to know."
The dragon coloured slightly and looked away.
Presently he said bashfully:
"Did you ever--just for fun--try to make =
up
poetry--verses, you know?"
"'Course I have," said the Boy.
"Heaps of it. And some of it's quite good, I feel sure, only there's n=
o one
here cares about it. Mother's very kind and all that, when I read it to her,
and so's father for that matter. But somehow they don't seem to--"
"Exactly," cried the dragon; "my
own case exactly. They don't seem to, and you can't argue with 'em about it.
Now you've got culture, you have, I could tell it on you at once, and I sho=
uld
just like your candid opinion about some little things I threw off lightly,
when I was down there. I'm awfully pleased to have met you, and I'm hoping =
the
other neighbours will be equally agreeable. There was a very nice old gentl=
eman
up here only last night, but he didn't seem to want to intrude."
"That was my father," said the boy,
"and he is a nice old gentleman, and I'll introduce you some day if you
like."
"Can't you two come up here and dine or
something to-morrow?" asked the dragon eagerly. "Only, of course,=
if
you 'ye got nothing better to do," he added politely.
"Thanks awfully," said the Boy,
"but we don't go out anywhere without my mother, and, to tell you the =
truth,
I 'm afraid she mightn't quite approve of you. You see there's no getting o=
ver
the hard fact that you're a dragon, is there? And when you talk of settling
down, and the neighbours, and so on, I can't help feeling that you don't qu=
ite
realize your position. You 're an enemy of the human race, you see!
"Haven't got an enemy in the world,"
said the dragon, cheerfully. "Too lazy to make 'em, to begin with. And=
if
I do read other fellows my poetry, I'm always ready to listen to theirs!&qu=
ot;
"Oh, dear!" cried the boy, "I w=
ish
you'd try and grasp the situation properly. When the other people find you =
out,
they'll come after you with spears and swords and all sorts of things. You'=
ll
have to be exterminated, according to their way of looking at it! You 're a=
scourge,
and a pest, and a baneful monster!"
"Not a word of truth in it," said the
dragon, wagging his head solemnly. "Character'll bear the strictest
investigation. And now, there's a little sonnet-thing I was working on when=
you
appeared on the scene--"
"Oh, if you won't be sensible," cried
the Boy, getting up, "I'm going off home. No, I can't stop for sonnets=
; my
mother's sitting up. I'II look you up to-morrow, sometime or other, and do =
for
goodness' sake try and realize that you're a pestilential scourge, or you'll
find yourself in a most awful fix. Good-night!"
The Boy found it an easy matter to set the min=
d of
his parents' at ease about his new friend. They had always left that branch=
to
him, and they took his word without a murmur. The shepherd was formally
introduced and many compliments and kind inquiries were exchanged. His wife,
however, though expressing her willingness to do anything she could--to men=
d things,
or set the cave to rights, or cook a little something when the dragon had b=
een
poring over sonnets and forgotten his meals, as male things will do, could =
not
be brought to recognize him formally. The fact that he was a dragon and
"they didn't know who he was" seemed to count for everything with
her. She made no objection, however, to her little son spending his evenings
with the dragon quietly, so long as he was home by nine o'clock: and many a
pleasant night they had, sitting on the swan, while the dragon told stories=
of
old, old times, when dragons were quite plentiful and the world was a livel=
ier
place than it is now, and life was full of thrills and jumps and surprises.=
What the Boy had feared, however, soon came to
pass. The most modest and retiring dragon in the world, if he's as big as f=
our
cart-horses and covered with blue scales, cannot keep altogether out of the
public view. And so in the village tavern of nights the fact that a real li=
ve
dragon sat brooding in the cave on the Downs was naturally a subject for ta=
lk. Though
the villagers were extremely frightened, they were rather proud as well. It=
was
a distinction to have a dragon of your own, and it was felt to be a feather=
in
the cap of the village. Still, all were agreed that this sort of thing coul=
dn't
be allowed to go on. The dreadful beast must be exterminated, the country-s=
ide
must be freed from this pest, this terror, this destroying scourge. The fact
that not even a hen-roost was the worse for the dragon's arrival wasn't all=
owed
to have anything to do with it. He was a dragon, and he couldn't deny it, a=
nd
if he didn't choose to behave as such that was his own lookout. But in spit=
e of
much valiant talk no hero was found willing to take sword and spear and free
the suffering village and win deathless fame; and each night's heated
discussion always ended in nothing. Meanwhile the dragon, a happy Bohemian,
lolled on the turf, enjoyed the sunsets, told antediluvian anecdotes to the
Boy, and polished his old verses while meditating on fresh ones.
One day the Boy, on walking in to the village,
found everything wearing a festal appearance which was not to be accounted =
for
in the calendar. Carpets and gay-coloured stuffs were hung out of the windo=
ws,
the church-bells clamoured noisily, the little street was flower-strewn, and
the whole population jostled each other along either side of it, chattering,
shoving, and ordering each other to stand back. The Boy saw a friend of his=
own
age in the crowd and hailed.
"What's up?" he cried. "Is it t=
he
players, or bears, or a circus, or what?" "It's all right," =
his
friend hailed back. "He's a-coming."
"Who's a-coming?" demanded the Boy,
thrusting into the throng.
"Why, St. George, of course," replied
his friend. "He's heard tell of our dragon, and he's comm' on purpose =
to
slay the deadly beast, and free us from his horrid yoke. O my! won't there =
be a
jolly fight!"
Here was news indeed! The Boy felt that he oug=
ht
to make quite sure for himself, and he wriggled himself in between the legs=
of
his good-natured elders, abusing them all the time for their unmannerly hab=
it
of shoving. Once in the front rank, he breathlessly awaited the arrival.
Presently from the far-away end of the line ca=
me
the sound of cheering. Next, the measured tramp of a great war-horse made h=
is
heart beat quicker, and then he found himself cheering with the rest, as,
amidst welcoming shouts, shrill cries of women, uplifting of babies and wav=
ing of
handkerchiefs, St. George paced slowly up the street. The Boy's heart stood
still and he breathed with sobs, the beauty and the grace of the hero were =
so
far beyond anything he had yet seen. His fluted armour was inlaid with gold,
his plumed helmet hung at his saddle-bow, and his thick fair hair framed a =
face
gracious and gentle beyond expression till you caught the sternness in his
eyes. He drew rein in front of the little inn, and the villagers crowded ro=
und
with greetings and thanks and voluble statements of their wrongs and grieva=
nces
and oppressions. The Boy, heard the grave gentle voice of the Saint, assuri=
ng
them that all would be well now, and that he would stand by them and see th=
em righted
and free them from their foe; then he dismounted and passed through the doo=
rway
and the crowd poured in after him. But the Boy made off up the hill as fast=
as
he could lay his legs to the ground.
"It's all up, dragon!" he shouted as
soon as he was within sight of the beast. "He's coming! He's here now!
You'll have to pull yourself together and do something at last!"
The dragon was licking his scales and rubbing =
them
with a bit of house-flannel the Boy's mother had lent him, till he shone li=
ke a
great turquoise.
"Don't be violent, Boy," he said wit=
hout
looking round. "Sit down and get your breath, and try and remember that
the noun governs the verb, and then perhaps you'll be good enough to tell me
who's coming?"
"That's right, take it coolly," said=
the
Boy. "Hope you'll be half as cool when I've got through with my news. =
It's
only St. George who's coming, that's all; he rode into the village half-an-=
hour
ago. Of course you can lick him--a great big fellow like you! But I thought=
I'd
warn you, 'cos he's sure to be round early, and he's got the longest, wicke=
dest-looking
spear you ever did see!" And the Boy got up and began to jump round in
sheer delight at the prospect of the battle.
"O deary, deary me," moaned the drag=
on;
"this is too awful. I won't see him, and that's flat. I don't want to =
know
the fellow at all. I'm sure he's not nice. You must tell him to go away at
once, please. Say he can write if he likes, but I can't give him an intervi=
ew.
I'm not seeing anybody at present."
"Now dragon, dragon," said the Boy
imploringly, "don't be perverse and wrongheaded. You've got to fight h=
im
some time or other, you know, 'cos he's St. George and you're the dragon.
Better get it over, and then we can go on with the sonnets. And you ought to
consider other people a little, too. If it's been dull up here for you, thi=
nk
how dull it's been for me!"
"My dear little man," said the dragon
solemnly, "just understand, once for all, that I can't fight and I won=
't
fight. I've never fought in my life, and I'm not going to begin now, just to
give you a Roman holiday. In old days I always let the other fellows--the
earnest fellows--do all the fighting, and no doubt that's why I have the
pleasure of being here now."
"But if you don't fight he'll cut your he=
ad
off!" gasped the Boy, miserable at the prospect of losing both his fig=
ht
and his friend.
"Oh, I think not," said the dragon in
his lazy way. "You'll be able to arrange something. I've every confide=
nce
in you, you're such a manager. Just run down, there's a dear chap, and make=
it
all right. I leave it entirely to you."
The Boy made his way back to the village in a
state of great despondency. First of all, there wasn't going to be any figh=
t;
next, his dear and honoured friend the dragon hadn't shown up in quite such=
a heroic
light as he would have liked; and lastly, whether the dragon was a hero at
heart or not, it made no difference, for St. George would most undoubtedly =
cut
his head off. "Arrange things indeed!" he said bitterly to himsel=
f.
"The dragon treats the whole affair as if it was an invitation to tea =
and
croquet."
The villagers were straggling homewards as he
passed up the street, all of them in the highest spirits, and gleefully
discussing the splendid fight that was in store. The Boy pursued his way to=
the
inn, and passed into the principal chamber, where St. George now sat alone,
musing over the chances of the fight, and the sad stories of rapine and of
wrong that had so lately been poured into his sympathetic ear.
"May I come in, St. George?" said the Boy politely, as he paused at the door. "I want to talk to you about t= his little matter of the dragon, if you're not tired of it by this time."<= o:p>
"Yes, come in, Boy," said the Saint
kindly. "Another tale of misery and wrong, I fear me. Is it a kind par=
ent,
then, of whom the tyrant has bereft you? Or some tender sister or brother?
Well, it shall soon be avenged."
"Nothing of the sort," said the Boy.
"There's a misunderstanding somewhere, and I want to put it right. The
fact is, this is a good dragon."
"Exactly," said St. George, smiling
pleasantly, "I quite understand. A good dragon. Believe me, I do not in
the least regret that he is an adversary worthy of my steel, and no feeble
specimen of his noxious tribe."
"But he's not a noxious tribe," cried
the Boy distressedly. "Oh dear, oh dear, how stupid men are when they =
get
an idea into their heads! I tell you he's a good dragon, and a friend of mi=
ne,
and tells me the most beautiful stories you ever heard, all about old times=
and
when he was little. And he's been so kind to mother, and mother'd do anythi=
ng
for him. And father likes him too, though father doesn't hold with art and =
poetry
much, and always falls asleep when the dragon starts talking about style. B=
ut
the fact is, nobody can help liking him when once they know him. He's so
engaging and so trustful, and as simple as a child!"
"Sit down, and draw your chair up," =
said
St. George. "I like a fellow who sticks up for his friends, and I'm su=
re
the dragon has his good points, if he's got a friend like you. But that's n=
ot
the question. All this evening I've been listening, with grief and anguish
unspeakable, to tales of murder, theft, and wrong; rather too highly colour=
ed,
perhaps, not always quite convincing, but forming in the main a most serious
roll of crime. History teaches us that the greatest rascals often possess a=
ll the
domestic virtues; and I fear that your cultivated friend, in spite of the
qualities which have won (and rightly) your regard, has got to be speedily
exterminated."
"Oh, you've been taking in all the yarns
those fellows have been telling you," said the Boy impatiently. "=
Why,
our villagers are the biggest story-tellers in all the country round. It's a
known fact. You're a stranger in these parts, or else you'd have heard it
already. All they want is a fight. They're the most awful beggars for getti=
ng
up fights--it 's meat and drink to them. Dogs, bulls, dragons--anything so =
long
as it's a fight. Why, they've got a poor innocent badger in the stable behi=
nd
here, at this moment. They were going to have some fun with him to-day, but
they're saving him up now till your little affair's over. And I've no doubt
they've been telling you what a hero you were, and how you were bound to wi=
n,
in the cause of right and justice, and so on; but let me tell you, I came d=
own
the street just now, and they were betting six to four on the dragon
freely!"
"Six to four on the dragon!" murmured
St. George sadly, resting his cheek on his hand. "This is an evil worl=
d,
and sometimes I begin to think that all the wickedness in it is not entirely
bottled up inside the dragons. And yet--may not this wily beast have misled=
you
as to his real character, in order that your good report of him may serve a=
s a cloak
for his evil deeds? Nay, may there not be, at this very moment, some hapless
Princess immured within yonder gloomy cavern?"
The moment he had spoken, St. George was sorry=
for
what he had said, the Boy looked so genuinely distressed.
"I assure you, St. George," he said
earnestly, "there's nothing of the sort in the cave at all. The dragon=
's a
real gentleman, every inch of him, and I may say that no one would be more
shocked and grieved than he would, at hearing you talk in that--that loose =
way
about matters on which he has very strong views!"
"Well, perhaps I've been
over-credulous," said St. George. "Perhaps I've misjudged the ani=
mal.
But what are we to do? Here are the dragon and I, almost face to face, each
supposed to be thirsting for each other's blood. I don't see any way out of=
it,
exactly. What do you suggest? Can't you arrange things, somehow?"
"That's just what the dragon said,"
replied the Boy, rather nettled. "Really, the way you two seem to leave
everything to me--I suppose you couldn't be persuaded to go away quietly, c=
ould
you?"
"Impossible, I fear," said the Saint.
"Quite against the rules. You know that as well as I do."
"Well, then, look here," said the Bo=
y,
"it's early yet--would you mind strolling up with me and seeing the dr=
agon
and talking it over? It's not far, and any friend of mine will be most
welcome."
"Well, it's irregular," said St. Geo=
rge,
rising, "but really it seems about the most sensible thing to do. You'=
re
taking a lot of trouble on your friend's account," he added,
good-naturedly, as they passed out through the door together. "But che=
er
up! Perhaps there won't have to be any fight after all."
"Oh, but I hope there will, though!"
replied the little fellow, wistfully.
=
"I've
brought a friend to see you, dragon," said the Boy, rather loud.
The dragon woke up with a start. "I was
just--er--thinking about things," he said in his simple way. "Very
pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. Charming weather we're having!"=
;
"This is St. George," said the Boy,
shortly. "St. George, let me introduce you to the dragon. We've come u=
p to
talk things over quietly, dragon, and now for goodness' sake do let us have=
a
little straight common-sense, and come to some practical business-like
arrangement, for I'm sick of views and theories of life and personal
tendencies, and all that sort of thing. I may perhaps add that my mother's
sitting up."
"So glad to meet you, St. George," b=
egan
the dragon rather nervously, "because you've been a great traveller, I
hear, and I've always been rather a stay-at-home. But I can show you many
antiquities, many interesting features of our country-side, if you're stopp=
ing
here any time--"
"I think," said St. George, in his
frank, pleasant way, "that we'd really better take the advice of our y=
oung
friend here, and try to come to some understanding, on a business footing,
about this little affair of ours. Now don't you think that after all the
simplest plan would be just to fight it out, according to the rules, and let
the best man win? They're betting on you, I may tell you, down in the villa=
ge,
but I don't mind that!"
"Oh, yes, do, dragon," said the Boy,
delightedly; "it'll save such a lot of bother!
"My young friend, you shut up," said=
the
dragon severely. "Believe me, St. George," he went on, "ther=
e's
nobody in the world I'd sooner oblige than you and this young gentleman her=
e.
But the whole thing's nonsense, and conventionality, and popular
thick-headedness. There's absolutely nothing to fight about, from beginning=
to
end. And anyhow I'm not going to, so that settles it!"
"But supposing I make you?" said St.
George, rather nettled.
"You can't," said the dragon,
triumphantly. "I should only go into my cave and retire for a time down
the hole I came up. You'd soon get heartily sick of sitting outside and wai=
ting
for me to come out and fight you. And as soon as you'd really gone away, wh=
y,
I'd come up again gaily, for I tell you frankly, I like this place, and I'm
going to stay here!"
St. George gazed for a while on the fair lands=
cape
around them. "But this would be a beautiful place for a fight," he
began again persuasively. "These great bare rolling Downs for the
arena,--and me in my golden armour showing up against your big blue scaly
coils! Think what a picture it would make!"
"Now you're trying to get at me through my
artistic sensibilities," said the dragon. "But it won't work. Not=
but
what it would make a very pretty picture, as you say," he added, waver=
ing
a little.
"We seem to be getting rather nearer to
business," put in the Boy. "You must see, dragon, that there 's g=
ot
to be a fight of some sort, 'cos you can't want to have to go down that dir=
ty
old hole again and stop there till goodness knows when."
"It might be arranged," said St. Geo=
rge,
thoughtfully. "I must spear you somewhere, of course, but I'm not boun=
d to
hurt you very much. There's such a lot of you that there must be a few spare
places somewhere. Here, for instance, just behind your foreleg. It couldn't
hurt you much, just here!"
"Now you 're tickling, George," said=
the
dragon, coyly. "No, that place won't do at all. Even if it didn't
hurt,--and I'm sure it would, awfully,--it would make me laugh, and that wo=
uld
spoil everything."
"Let's try somewhere else, then," sa=
id
St. George, patiently. "Under your neck, for instance,--all these fold=
s of
thick skin,--if I speared you here you 'd never even know I 'd done it!&quo=
t;
"Yes, but are you sure you can hit off the
right place?" asked the dragon, anxiously.
"Of course I am," said St. George, w=
ith
confidence. "You leave that to me!"
"It's just because I've got to leave it to
you that I'm asking," replied the dragon, rather testily. "No dou=
bt
you would deeply regret any error you might make in the hurry of the moment;
but you wouldn't regret it half as much as I should! However, I suppose we'=
ve
got to trust somebody, as we go through life, and your plan seems, on the
whole, as good a one as any."
"Look here, dragon," interrupted the
Boy, a little jealous on behalf of his friend, who seemed to be getting all=
the
worst of the bargain: "I don't quite see where you come in! There's to=
be
a fight, apparently, and you're to be licked; and what I want to know is, w=
hat
are you going to get out of it?"
"St. George," said the dragon,
"Just tell him, please,--what will happen after I'm vanquished in the
deadly combat?"
"Well, according to the rules I suppose I=
shall
lead you in triumph down to the market-place or whatever answers to it,&quo=
t;
said St. George.
"Precisely," said the dragon. "=
And
then--"
"And then there'll be shoutings and speec=
hes
and things," continued St. George. "And I shall explain that you'=
re
converted, and see the error of your ways, and so on."
"Quite so," said the dragon. "A=
nd
then--?"
"Oh, and then--" said St. George,
"why, and then there will be the usual banquet, I suppose."
"Exactly," said the dragon; "and
that's where I come in. Look here," he continued, addressing the Boy,
"I'm bored to death up here, and no one really appreciates me. I'm goi=
ng
into Society, I am, through the kindly aid of our friend here, who's taking
such a lot of trouble on my account; and you'll find I've got all the quali=
ties
to endear me to people who entertain! So now that's all settled, and if you
don't mind--I 'm an old-fashioned fellow--don't want to turn you out,
but--"
"Remember, you'll have to do your proper
share of the fighting, dragon!" said St. George, as he took the hint a=
nd
rose to go; "I mean ramping, and breathing fire, and so on!"
"I can ramp all right," replied the
dragon, confidently; "as to breathing fire, it's surprising how easily=
one
gets out of practice, but I'll do the best I can. Good-night!"
They had descended the hill and were almost ba=
ck
in the village again, when St. George stopped short, "Knew I had forgo=
tten
something," he said. "There ought to be a Princess. Terror-strick=
en
and chained to a rock, and all that sort of thing. Boy, can't you arrange a
Princess?"
The Boy was in the middle of a tremendous yawn.
"I'm tired to death," he wailed, "and I can't arrange a
Princess, or anything more, at this time of night. And my mother's sitting =
up,
and do stop asking me to arrange more things till to-morrow!"
=
Next
morning the people began streaming up to the Downs at quite an early hour, =
in
their Sunday clothes and carrying baskets with bottle-necks sticking out of
them, every one intent on securing good places for the combat. This was not=
exactly
a simple matter, for of course it was quite possible that the dragon might =
win,
and in that case even those who had put their money on him felt they could
hardly expect him to deal with his backers on a different footing to the re=
st.
Places were chosen, therefore, with circumspection and with a view to a spe=
edy retreat
in case of emergency; and the front rank was mostly composed of boys who had
escaped from parental control and now sprawled and rolled about on the gras=
s,
regardless of the shrill threats and warnings discharged at them by their
anxious mothers behind.
The Boy had secured a good front place, well up
towards the cave, and was feeling as anxious as a stage-manager on a first
night. Could the dragon be depended upon? He might change his mind and vote=
the
whole performance rot; or else, seeing that the affair had been so hastily =
planned,
without even a rehearsal, he might be too nervous to show up. The Boy looked
narrowly at the cave, but it showed no sign of life or occupation. Could the
dragon have made a moon-light flitting?
The higher portions of the ground were now bla=
ck
with sightseers, and presently a sound of cheering and a waving of
handkerchiefs told that something was visible to them which the Boy, far up
towards the dragon-end of the line as he was, could not yet see. A minute m=
ore
and St. George's red plumes topped the hill, as the Saint rode slowly forth=
on
the great level space which stretched up to the grim mouth of the cave. Very
gallant and beautiful he looked, on his tall war-horse, his golden armour
glancing in the sun, his great spear held erect, the little white pennon,
crimson-crossed, fluttering at its point. He drew rein and remained motionl=
ess.
The lines of spectators began to give back a little, nervously; and even the
boys in front stopped pulling hair and cuffing each other, and leaned forwa=
rd
expectant.
"Now then, dragon!" muttered the Boy
impatiently, fidgeting where he sat. He need not have distressed himself, h=
ad
he only known. The dramatic possibilities of the thing had tickled the drag=
on
immensely, and he had been up from an early hour, preparing for his first
public appearance with as much heartiness as if the years had run backwards=
, and
he had been again a little dragonlet, playing with his sisters on the floor=
of
their mother's cave, at the game of saints-and-dragons, in which the dragon=
was
bound to win.
A low muttering, mingled with snorts, now made
itself heard; rising to a bellowing roar that seemed to fill the plain. The=
n a
cloud of smoke obscured the mouth of the cave, and out of the midst of it t=
he
dragon himself, shining, sea-blue, magnificent, pranced splendidly forth; a=
nd
everybody said, "Oo-oo-oo!" as if he had been a mighty rocket! Hi=
s scales
were glittering, his long spiky tail lashed his sides, his claws tore up the
turf and sent it flying high over his back, and smoke and fire incessantly
jetted from his angry nostrils. "Oh, well done, dragon!" cried the
Boy, excitedly. "Didn't think he had it in him!" he added to hims=
elf.
St. George lowered his spear, bent his head, d=
ug
his heels into his horse's sides, and came thundering over the turf. The dr=
agon
charged with a roar and a squeal,--a great blue whirling combination of coi=
ls and
snorts and clashing jaws and spikes and fire.
"Missed!" yelled the crowd. There wa=
s a
moment's entanglement of golden armour and blue-green coils, and spiky tail,
and then the great horse, tearing at his bit, carried the Saint, his spear
swung high in the air, almost up to the mouth of the cave.
The dragon sat down and barked viciously, while
St. George with difficulty pulled his horse round into position.
"End of Round One!" thought the Boy. "How well they managed it! But I hope the Saint won't get excited. I c= an trust the dragon all right. What a regular play-actor the fellow is!"<= o:p>
St. George had at last prevailed on his horse =
to
stand steady, and was looking round him as he wiped his brow. Catching sigh=
t of
the Boy, he smiled and nodded, and held up three fingers for an instant.
"It seems to be all planned out," sa=
id
the Boy to himself. "Round Three is to be the finishing one, evidently.
Wish it could have lasted a bit longer. Whatever's that old fool of a drago=
n up
to now?"
The dragon was employing the interval in givin=
g a
ramping-performance for the benefit of the crowd. Ramping, it should be
explained, consists in running round and round in a wide circle, and sending
waves and ripples of movement along the whole length of your spine, from yo=
ur pointed
ears right down to the spike at the end of your long tail. When you are cov=
ered
with blue scales, the effect is particularly pleasing; and the Boy recollec=
ted
the dragon's recently expressed wish to become a social success.
St. George now gathered up his reins and began=
to
move forward, dropping the point of his spear and settling himself firmly in
the saddle.
"Time!" yelled everybody excitedly; =
and
the dragon, leaving off his ramping sat up on end, and began to leap from o=
ne
side to the other with huge ungainly bounds, whooping like a Red Indian. Th=
is
naturally disconcerted the horse, who swerved violently, the Saint only jus=
t saving
himself by the mane; and as they shot past the dragon delivered a vicious s=
nap
at the horse's tail which sent the poor beast careering madly far over the
Downs, so that the language of the Saint, who had lost a stirrup, was
fortunately inaudible to the general assemblage.
Round Two evoked audible evidence of friendly
feeling towards the dragon. The spectators were not slow to appreciate a
combatant who could hold his own so well and clearly wanted to show good sp=
ort;
and many encouraging remarks reached the ears of our friend as he strutted =
to
and fro, his chest thrust out and his tail in the air, hugely enjoying his =
new
popularity.
St. George had dismounted and was tightening h=
is
girths, and telling his horse, with quite an Oriental flow of imagery, exac=
tly
what he thought of him, and his relations, and his conduct on the present
occasion; so the Boy made his way down to the Saint's end of the line, and =
held
his spear for him.
"It's been a jolly fight, St. George!&quo=
t;
he said with a sigh. "Can't you let it last a bit longer?"
"Well, I think I'd better not," repl=
ied
the Saint. "The fact is, your simple-minded old friend's getting
conceited, now they've begun cheering him, and he'll forget all about the
arrangement and take to playing the fool, and there's no telling where he w=
ould
stop. I'll just finish him off this round."
He swung himself into the saddle and took his
spear from the Boy. "Now don't you be afraid," he added kindly.
"I've marked my spot exactly, and he's sure to give me all the assista=
nce
in his power, because he knows it's his only chance of being asked to the
banquet!"
St. George now shortened his spear, bringing t=
he
butt well up under his arm; and, instead of galloping as before, trotted
smartly towards the dragon, who crouched at his approach, flicking his tail
till it cracked in the air like a great cart-whip. The Saint wheeled as he
neared his opponent and circled warily round him, keeping his eye on the sp=
are place;
while the dragon, adopting similar tactics, paced with caution round the sa=
me
circle, occasionally feinting with his head. So the two sparred for an open=
ing,
while the spectators maintained a breathless silence.
Though the round lasted for some minutes, the =
end
was so swift that all the Boy saw was a lightning movement of the Saint's a=
rm,
and then a whirl and a confusion of spines, claws, tail, and flying bits of
turf. The dust cleared away, the spectators whooped and ran in cheering, an=
d the
Boy made out that the dragon was down, pinned to the earth by the spear, wh=
ile
St. George had dismounted, and stood astride of him.
It all seemed so genuine that the Boy ran in
breathlessly, hoping the dear old dragon wasn't really hurt. As he approach=
ed,
the dragon lifted one large eyelid, winked solemnly, and collapsed again. He
was held fast to earth by the neck, but the Saint had hit him in the spare
place agreed upon, and it didn't even seem to tickle.
"Bain't you goin' to cut 'is 'ed orf,
master?" asked one of the applauding crowd. He had backed the dragon, =
and
naturally felt a trifle sore.
"Well, not to-day, I think," replied=
St.
George, pleasantly. "You see, that can be done at any time. There's no
hurry at all. I think we'll all go down to the village first, and have some
refreshment, and then I'll give him a good talking-to, and you'll find he'l=
l be
a very different dragon!"
At that magic word refreshment the whole crowd
formed up in procession and silently awaited the signal to start. The time =
for
talking and cheering and betting was past, the hour for action had arrived.=
St.
George, hauling on his spear with both hands, released the dragon, who rose=
and
shook himself and ran his eye over his spikes and scales and things, to see
that they were all in order. Then the Saint mounted and led off the process=
ion,
the dragon following meekly in the company of the Boy, while the thirsty
spectators kept at a respectful interval behind.
There were great doings when they got down to =
the
village again, and had formed up in front of the inn. After refreshment St.
George made a speech, in which he informed his audience that he had removed
their direful scourge, at a great deal of trouble and inconvenience to hims=
elf,
and now they weren't to go about grumbling and fancying they'd got grievanc=
es,
because they hadn't. And they shouldn't be so fond of fights, because next =
time
they might have to do the fighting themselves, which would not be the same
thing at all. And there was a certain badger in the inn stables which had g=
ot to
be released at once, and he'd come and see it done himself. Then he told th=
em
that the dragon had been thinking over things, and saw that there were two
sides to every question, and he wasn't going to do it any more, and if they
were good perhaps he'd stay and settle down there. So they must make friend=
s,
and not be prejudiced; and go about fancying they knew everything there was=
to
be known, because they didn't, not by a long way. And he warned them against
the sin of romancing, and making up stories and fancying other people would
believe them just because they were plausible and highly-coloured. Then he =
sat
down, amidst much repentant cheering, and the dragon nudged the Boy in the =
ribs
and whispered that he couldn't have done it better himself. Then every one =
went
off to get ready for the banquet.
Banquets are always pleasant things, consisting
mostly, as they do, of eating and drinking; but the specially nice thing ab=
out
a banquet is, that it comes when something's over, and there's nothing more=
to
worry about, and to-morrow seems a long way off. St George was happy becaus=
e there
had been a fight and he hadn't had to kill anybody; for he didn't really li=
ke
killing, though he generally had to do it. The dragon was happy because the=
re
had been a fight, and so far from being hurt in it he had won popularity an=
d a
sure footing in society. The Boy was happy because there had been a fight, =
and
in spite of it all his two friends were on the best of terms. And all the
others were happy because there had been a fight, and--well, they didn't
require any other reasons for their happiness. The dragon exerted himself to
say the right thing to everybody, and proved the life and soul of the eveni=
ng;
while the Saint and the Boy, as they looked on, felt that they were only
assisting at a feast of which the honour and the glory were entirely the
dragon's. But they didn't mind that, being good fellows, and the dragon was=
not
in the least proud or forgetful. On the contrary, every ten minutes or so h=
e leant
over towards the Boy and said impressively: "Look here! you will see me
home afterwards, won't you?" And the Boy always nodded, though he had
promised his mother not to be out late.
At last the banquet was over, the guests had
dropped away with many good-nights and congratulations and invitations, and=
the
dragon, who had seen the last of them off the premises, emerged into the st=
reet
followed by the Boy, wiped his brow, sighed, sat down in the road and gazed=
at the
stars. "Jolly night it's been!" he murmured. "Jolly stars! J=
olly
little place this! Think I shall just stop here. Don't feel like climbing up
any beastly hill. Boy's promised to see me home. Boy had better do it then!=
No
responsibility on my part. Responsibility all Boy's!" And his chin san=
k on
his broad chest and he slumbered peacefully.
"Oh, get up, dragon," cried the Boy,
piteously. "You know my mother's sitting up, and I 'm so tired, and you
made me promise to see you home, and I never knew what it meant or I wouldn=
't
have done it!" And the Boy sat down in the road by the side of the
sleeping dragon, and cried.
The door behind them opened, a stream of light
illumined the road, and St. George, who had come out for a stroll in the co=
ol
night-air, caught sight of the two figures sitting there--the great motionl=
ess
dragon and the tearful little Boy.
"What's the matter, Boy?" he inquired
kindly, stepping to his side.
"Oh, it's this great lumbering pig of a
dragon!" sobbed the Boy. "First he makes me promise to see him ho=
me,
and then he says I'd better do it, and goes to sleep! Might as well try to =
see
a haystack home! And I'm so tired, and mother's--" here he broke down
again.
"Now don't take on," said St. George.
"I'll stand by you, and we'll both see him home. Wake up, dragon!"=
; he
said sharply, shaking the beast by the elbow.
The dragon looked up sleepily. "What a ni=
ght,
George!" he murmured; "what a--"
"Now look here, dragon," said the Sa=
int,
firmly. "Here's this little fellow waiting to see you home, and you kn=
ow
he ought to have been in bed these two hours, and what his mother'll say I
don't know, and anybody but a selfish pig would have made him go to bed long
ago--"
"And he shall go to bed!" cried the
dragon, starting up. "Poor little chap, only fancy his being up at this
hour! It's a shame, that's what it is, and I don't think, St. George, you've
been very considerate--but come along at once, and don't let us have any mo=
re
arguing or shilly-shallying. You give me hold of your hand, Boy--thank you,
George, an arm up the hill is just what I wanted!"
So they set off up the hill arm-in-arm, the Sa=
int,
the Dragon, and the Boy. The lights in the little village began to go out; =
but
there were stars, and a late moon, as they climbed to the Downs together. A=
nd,
as they turned the last corner and disappeared from view, snatches of an old
song were borne back on the night-breeze. I can't be certain which of them =
was
singing, but I think it was the Dragon!
=
"Here
we are at your gate," said the man, abruptly, laying his hand on it.
"Good-night. Cut along in sharp, or you'll catch it!"
Could it really be our own gate? Yes, there it
was, sure enough, with the familiar marks on its bottom bar made by our feet
when we swung on it
"Oh, but wait a minute!" cried
Charlotte. "I want to know a heap of things. Did the dragon really set=
tle
down? And did--"
"There isn't any more of that story,"
said the man, kindly but firmly. "At least, not to-night. Now be off!
Good-bye!"
"Wonder if it's all true?" said
Charlotte, as we hurried up the path. "Sounded dreadfully like nonsens=
e, in
parts!"
"P'raps its true for all that," I
replied encouragingly.
Charlotte bolted in like a rabbit, out of the =
cold
and the dark; but I lingered a moment in the still, frosty air, for a backw=
ard
glance at the silent white world without, ere I changed it for the land of
firelight and cushions and laughter. It was the day for choir-practice, and=
carol-time
was at hand, and a belated member was passing homewards down the road, sing=
ing
as he went:--
=
"Then
St. George: ee made rev'rence: in the stable so dim, Oo vanquished the drag=
on:
so fearful and grim. So-o grim: and so-o fierce: that now may we say All
peaceful is our wakin': on Chri-istmas Day!"
=
The
singer receded, the carol died away. But I wondered, with my hand on the
door-latch, whether that was the song, or something like it, that the dragon
sang as he toddled contentedly up the hill.
=
It is
a very fine thing to be a real Prince. There are points about a Pirate Chie=
f,
and to succeed to the Captaincy of a Robber Band is a truly magnificent thi=
ng.
But to be an Heir has also about it something extremely captivating. Not on=
ly a
long-lost heir--an heir of the melodrama, strutting into your hitherto
unsuspected kingdom at just the right moment, loaded up with the consciousn=
ess
of unguessed merit and of rights so long feloniously withheld--but even to =
be a
common humdrum domestic heir is a profession to which few would refuse to b=
e apprenticed.
To step from leading-strings and restrictions and one glass of port after
dinner, into property and liberty and due appreciation, saved up, polished =
and
varnished, dusted and laid in lavender, all expressly for you--why, even the
Princedom and the Robber Captaincy, when their anxieties and responsibiliti=
es
are considered, have hardly more to offer. And so it will continue to be a
problem, to the youth in whom ambition struggles with a certain sensuous
appreciation of life's side-dishes, whether the career he is called upon to
select out of the glittering knick-knacks that strew the counter had better=
be
that of an heir or an engine-driver.
In the case of eldest sons, this problem has a= way of solving itself. In childhood, however, the actual heirship is apt to wor= k on the principle of the "Borough-English" of our happier ancestors, = and in most cases of inheritance it is the youngest that succeeds. Where the "res" is "angusta," and the weekly books are simply a series of stiff hurdles at each of which in succession the paternal legs fa= lter with growing suspicion of their powers to clear the flight, it is in the af= fair of clothes that the right of succession tells, and "the hard heir stri= des about the land" in trousers long ago framed for fraternal limbs--frondes nov= as et non sua poma. A bitter thing indeed! Of those pretty silken threads that knit humanity together, high and low, past and present, none is tougher, mo= re pervading, or more iridescent, than the honest, simple pleasure of new clot= hes. It tugs at the man as it tugs at the woman; the smirk of the well-fitted pr= ince is no different from the smirk of the Sunday-clad peasant; and the veins of= the elders tingle with the same thrill that sets their fresh-frocked grandchild= ren skipping. Never trust people who pretend that they have no joy in their new clothes.<= o:p>
Let not our souls be wrung, however, at contem=
plation
of the luckless urchin cut off by parental penury from the rapture of new
clothes. Just as the heroes of his dreams are his immediate seniors, so his
heroes' clothes share the glamour, and the reversion of them carries a high=
privilege--a
special thing not sold by Swears and Wells. The sword of Galahad--and of ma=
ny
another hero--arrived on the scene already hoary with history, and the boy
rather prefers his trousers to be legendary, famous, haloed by his hero's
renown--even though the nap may have altogether vanished in the process.
But, putting clothes aside, there are other
matters in which this reversed heirship comes into play. Take the case of T=
oys.
It is hardly right or fitting--and in this the child quite acquiesces--that=
as
he approaches the reverend period of nine or say ten years, he should still=
be
the unabashed and proclaimed possessor of a hoop and a Noah's Ark. The child
will quite see the reasonableness of this, and, the goal of his ambition be=
ing
now a catapult, a pistol, or even a sword-stick, will be satisfied that the
titular ownership should lapse to his juniors, so far below him in their ki=
lted
or petticoated incompetence. After all, the things are still there, and if
relapses of spirit occur, on wet afternoons, one can still (nominally) borr=
ow
them and be happy on the floor as of old, without the reproach of being a
habitual baby toy-caresser. Also one can pretend it's being done to amuse t=
he
younger ones.
None of us, therefore, grumbled when in the
natural course of things the nominal ownership of the toys slipped down to
Harold, and from him in turn devolved upon Charlotte. The toys were still
there; they always had been there and always would be there, and when the
nursery door was fast shut there were no Kings or Queens or First Estates in
that small Republic on the floor. Charlotte, to be sure, chin-tilted, at la=
st
an owner of real estate, might patronize a little at times; but it was taci=
tly
understood that her "title" was only a drawing-room one.
Why does a coming bereavement project no thin
faint voice, no shadow of its woe, to warn its happy, heedless victims? Why
cannot Olympians ever think it worth while to give some hint of the
thunderbolts they are silently forging? And why, oh, why did it never enter=
any
of our thick heads that the day would come when even Charlotte would be
considered too matronly for toys? One's so called education is hammered into
one with rulers and with canes. Each fresh grammar or musical instrument, e=
ach
new historical period or quaint arithmetical rule, is impressed on one by s=
ome
painful physical prelude. Why does Time, the biggest Schoolmaster, alone
neglect premonitory raps, at each stage of his curriculum, on our knuckles =
or
our heads?
Uncle Thomas was at the bottom of it. This was=
not
the first mine he had exploded under our bows. In his favourite pursuit of =
fads
he had passed in turn from Psychical Research to the White Rose and thence =
to a
Children's Hospital, and we were being daily inundated with leaflets headed=
by
a woodcut depicting Little Annie (of Poplar) sitting up in her little white
cot, surrounded by the toys of the nice, kind, rich children. The idea caug=
ht
on with the Olympians, always open to sentiment of a treacly, woodcut order;
and accordingly Charlotte, on entering one day dishevelled and panting, hav=
ing
been pursued by yelling Redskins up to the very threshold of our peaceful h=
ome,
was curtly informed that her French lessons would begin on Monday, that she=
was
henceforth to cease all pretence of being a trapper or a Redskin on utterly
inadequate grounds, and moreover that the whole of her toys were at that mo=
ment
being finally packed up in a box, for despatch to London, to gladden the li=
ves
and bring light into the eyes of London waifs and Poplar Annies.
Naturally enough, perhaps, we others received =
no
official intimation of this grave cession of territory. We were not suppose=
d to
be interested. Harold had long ago been promoted to a knife--a recognized,
birthday knife. As for me, it was known that I was already given over, heart
and soul, to lawless abandoned catapults--catapults which were confiscated =
weekly
for reasons of international complications, but with which Edward kept me
steadily supplied, his school having a fine old tradition for excellence in
their manufacture. Therefore no one was supposed to be really affected but
Charlotte, and even she had already reached Miss Yonge, and should therefore
have been more interested in prolific curates and harrowing deathbeds.
Notwithstanding, we all felt indignant, betray=
ed,
and sullen to the verge of mutiny. Though for long we had affected to despi=
se
them, these toys, yet they had grown up with us, shared our joys and our
sorrows, seen us at our worst, and become part of the accepted scheme of ex=
istence.
As we gazed at untenanted shelves and empty, hatefully tidy corners, perhaps
for the first time for long we began to do them a tardy justice.
There was old Leotard, for instance. Somehow he
had come to be sadly neglected of late years--and yet how exactly he always
responded to certain moods! He was an acrobat, this Leotard, who lived in a=
glass-fronted
box. His loose-jointed limbs were cardboard, cardboard his slender trunk; a=
nd
his hands eternally grasped the bar of a trapeze. You turned the box round
swiftly five or six times; the wonderful unsolved machinery worked, and Leo=
tard
swung and leapt, backwards, forwards, now astride the bar, now flying free;
iron-jointed, supple-sinewed, unceasingly novel in his invention of new,
unguessable attitudes; while above, below, and around him, a richly-dressed
audience, painted in skilful perspective of stalls, boxes, dress-circle, and
gallery, watched the thrilling performance with a stolidity which seemed to
mark them out as made in Germany. Hardly versatile enough, perhaps, this
Leotard; unsympathetic, not a companion for all hours; nor would you have
chosen him to take to bed with you. And yet, within his own limits, how fre=
sh, how
engrossing, how resourceful and inventive! Well, he was gone, it seemed--me=
rely
gone. Never specially cherished while he tarried with us, he had yet contri=
ved
to build himself a particular niche of his own. Sunrise and sunset, and the
dinner-bell, and the sudden rainbow, and lessons, and Leotard, and the moon
through the nursery windows--they were all part of the great order of thing=
s,
and the displacement of any one item seemed to disorganize the whole machin=
ery.
The immediate point was, not that the world would continue to go round as of
old, but that Leotard wouldn't.
Yonder corner, now swept and garnished, had be=
en
the stall wherein the spotty horse, at the close of each laborious day, was
accustomed to doze peacefully the long night through. In days of old each o=
f us
in turn had been jerked thrillingly round the room on his precarious back, =
had
dug our heels into his unyielding sides, and had scratched our hands on the=
tin
tacks that secured his mane to his stiffly-curving neck. Later, with increa=
sing
stature, we came to overlook his merits as a beast of burden; but how frank=
ly,
how good-naturedly, he had recognized the new conditions, and adapted himse=
lf
to them without a murmur! When the military spirit was abroad, who so ready=
to
be a squadron of cavalry, a horde of Cossacks, or artillery pounding into
position? He had even served with honour as a gun-boat, during a period when
naval strategy was the only theme; and no false equine pride ever hindered =
him
from taking the part of a roaring locomotive, earth-shaking, clangorous, an=
nihilating
time and space. Really it was no longer clear how life, with its manifold
emergencies, was to be carried on at all without a fellow like the spotty
horse, ready to step in at critical moments and take up just the part requi=
red
of him. In moments of mental depression, nothing is quite so consoling as t=
he
honest smell of a painted animal; and mechanically I turned towards the she=
lf
that had been so long the Ararat of our weather-beaten Ark. The shelf was
empty, the Ark had cast off moorings and sailed away to Poplar, and had tak=
en
with it its haunting smell, as well as that pleasant sense of disorder that=
the
best conducted Ark is always able to impart. The sliding roof had rarely be=
en
known to close entirely. There was always a pair of giraffe-legs sticking o=
ut,
or an elephant-trunk, taking from the stiffness of its outline, and remindi=
ng
us that our motley crowd of friends inside were uncomfortably cramped for r=
oom
and only too ready to leap in a cascade on the floor and browse and gallop,
flutter and bellow and neigh, and be their natural selves again. I think th=
at none
of us ever really thought very much of Ham and Shem and Japhet. They were o=
nly
there because they were in the story, but nobody really wanted them. The Ark
was built for the animals, of course--animals with tails, and trunks, and
horns, and at least three legs apiece, though some unfortunates had been un=
able
to retain even that number. And in the animals were of course included the
birds--the dove, for instance, grey with black wings, and the red-crested
woodpecker--or was it a hoopoe?--and the insects, for there was a dear beet=
le,
about the same size as the dove, that held its own with any of the mammalia=
.
Of the doll-department Charlotte had naturally
been sole chief for a long time; if the staff were not in their places to-d=
ay,
it was not I who had any official right to take notice. And yet one may have
been member of a Club for many a year without ever exactly understanding th=
e use
and object of the other members, until one enters, some Christmas day or ot=
her
holiday, and, surveying the deserted armchairs, the untenanted sofas, the
barren hat-pegs, realizes, with depression, that those other fellows had th=
eir
allotted functions, after all. Where was old Jerry? Where were Eugenie, Ros=
a,
Sophy, Esmeralda? We had long drifted apart, it was true, we spoke but rare=
ly;
perhaps, absorbed in new ambitions, new achievements, I had even come to lo=
ok
down on these conservative, unprogressive members who were so clearly conte=
nt
to remain simply what they were. And now that their corners were unfilled, =
their
chairs unoccupied--well, my eyes were opened and I wanted 'em back!
However, it was no business of mine. If grieva=
nces
were the question, I hadn't a leg to stand upon. Though my catapults were
officially confiscated, I knew the drawer in which they were incarcerated, =
and where
the key of it was hidden, and I could make life a burden, if I chose, to ev=
ery
living thing within a square-mile radius, so long as the catapult was resto=
red
to its drawer in due and decent time. But I wondered how the others were ta=
king
it. The edict hit them more severely. They should have my moral countenance=
at
any rate, if not more, in any protest or countermine they might be planning.
And, indeed, something seemed possible, from the dogged, sullen air with wh=
ich
the two of them had trotted off in the direction of the raspberry-canes. Ce=
rtain
spots always had their insensible attraction for certain moods. In love, one
sought the orchard. Weary of discipline, sick of convention, impassioned for
the road, the mining-camp, the land across the border, one made for the big
meadow. Mutinous, sulky, charged with plots and conspiracies, one always got
behind the shelter of the raspberry-canes.
*****
"You can come too if you like," said
Harold, in a subdued sort of way, as soon as he was aware that I was sittin=
g up
in bed watching him. "We didn't think you'd care, 'cos you've got to
catapults. But we're goin' to do what we've settled to do, so it's no good
sayin' we hadn't ought and that sort of thing, 'cos we're goin' to!"
The day had passed in an ominous peacefulness.
Charlotte and Harold had kept out of my way, as well as out of everybody
else's, in a purposeful manner that ought to have bred suspicion. In the
evening we had read books, or fitfully drawn ships and battles on fly-leave=
s,
apart, in separate corners, void of conversation or criticism, oppressed by=
the
lowering tidiness of the universe, till bedtime came, and disrobement, and
prayers even more mechanical than usual, and lastly bed itself without so m=
uch
as a giraffe under the pillow. Harold had grunted himself between the sheets
with an ostentatious pretence of overpowering fatigue; but I noticed that he
pulled his pillow forward and propped his head against the brass bars of his
crib, and, as I was acquainted with most of his tricks and subterfuges, it =
was
easy for me to gather that a painful wakefulness was his aim that night.
I had dozed off, however, and Harold was out a=
nd
on his feet, poking under the bed for his shoes, when I sat up and grimly
regarded him. Just as he said I could come if I liked, Charlotte slipped in,
her face rigid and set. And then it was borne in upon me that I was not on =
in
this scene. These youngsters had planned it all out, the piece was their ow=
n,
and the mounting, and the cast. My sceptre had fallen, my rule had ceased. =
In
this magic hour of the summer night laws went for nothing, codes were
cancelled, and those who were most in touch with the moonlight and the warm
June spirit and the topsy-turvydom that reigns when the clock strikes ten, =
were
the true lords and lawmakers.
Humbly, almost timidly, I followed without a
protest in the wake of these two remorseless, purposeful young persons, who
were marching straight for the schoolroom. Here in the moonlight the grim b=
ig
box stood visible--the box in which so large a portion of our past and our =
personality
lay entombed, cold, swathed in paper, awaiting the carrier of the morning w=
ho
should speed them forth to the strange, cold, distant Children s Hospital,
where their little failings would all be misunderstood and no one would make
allowances. A dreamy spectator, I stood idly by while Harold propped up the=
lid
and the two plunged in their arms and probed and felt and grappled.
"Here's Rosa," said Harold, suddenly.
"I know the feel of her hair. Will you have Rosa out?"
"Oh, give me Rosa!" cried Charlotte =
with
a sort of gasp. And when Rosa had been dragged forth, quite unmoved apparen=
tly,
placid as ever in her moonfaced contemplation of this comedy-world with its=
ups
and downs, Charlotte retired with her to the window-seat, and there in the =
moonlight
the two exchanged their private confidences, leaving Harold to his explorat=
ion
alone.
"Here's something with sharp corners,&quo=
t;
said Harold, presently. "Must be Leotard, I think. Better let him
go."
"Oh, yes, we can't save Leotard,"
assented Charlotte, limply.
Poor old Leotard! I said nothing, of course; I=
was
not on in this piece. But, surely, had Leotard heard and rightly understood=
all
that was going on above him, he must have sent up one feeble, strangled cry,
one faint appeal to be rescued from unfamiliar little Annies and retained f=
or
an audience certain to appreciate and never unduly critical.
"Now I've got to the Noah's Ark," pa=
nted
Harold, still groping blindly.
"Try and shove the lid back a bit," =
said
Charlotte, "and pull out a dove or a zebra or a giraffe if there's one
handy."
Harold toiled on with grunts and contortions, =
and
presently produced in triumph a small grey elephant and a large beetle with=
a
red stomach.
"They're jammed in too tight," he
complained. "Can't get any more out. But as I came up I'm sure I felt
Potiphar!" And down he dived again.
Potiphar was a finely modelled bull with a sue=
de
skin, rough and comfortable and warm in bed. He was my own special joy and
pride, and I thrilled with honest emotion when Potiphar emerged to light on=
ce
more, stout-necked and stalwart as ever.
"That'll have to do," said Charlotte,
getting up. "We dursn't take any more, 'cos we'll be found out if we d=
o.
Make the box all right, and bring 'em along."
Harold rammed down the wads of paper and twist=
s of
straw he had disturbed, replaced the lid squarely and innocently, and picke=
d up
his small salvage; and we sneaked off for the window most generally in use =
for
prison-breakings and nocturnal escapades. A few seconds later and we were
hurrying silently in single file along the dark edge of the lawn.
Oh, the riot, the clamour, the crowding chorus=
, of
all silent things that spoke by scent and colour and budding thrust and foi=
son,
that moonlit night of June! Under the laurel-shade all was still ghostly en=
ough,
brigand-haunted, crackling, whispering of night and all its possibilities of
terror. But the open garden, when once we were in it--how it turned a glad =
new
face to welcome us, glad as of old when the sunlight raked and searched it,=
new
with the unfamiliar night-aspect that yet welcomed us as guests to a hall w=
here
the horns blew up to a new, strange banquet! Was this the same grass, could
these be the same familiar flower-beds, alleys, clumps of verdure, patches =
of
sward? At least this full white light that was flooding them was new, and a=
ccounted
for all. It was Moonlight Land, and Past-Ten-o'clock Land, and we were in it
and of it, and all its other denizens fully understood, and, tongue-free and
awakened at last, responded and comprehended and knew. The other two,
doubtless, hurrying forward full of their mission, noted little of all this=
. I,
who was only a super, had leisure to take it all in, and, though the langua=
ge
and the message of the land were not all clear to me then, long afterwards I
remembered and understood.
Under the farthest hedge, at the loose end of
things, where the outer world began with the paddock, there was darkness on=
ce
again--not the blackness that crouched so solidly under the crowding laurel=
s,
but a duskiness hung from far-spread arms of high-standing elms. There, whe=
re the
small grave made a darker spot on the grey, I overtook them, only just in t=
ime
to see Rosa laid stiffly out, her cherry cheeks pale in the moonlight, but =
her
brave smile triumphant and undaunted as ever. It was a tiny grave and a sha=
llow
one, to hold so very much. Rosa once in, Potiphar, who had hitherto stood
erect, stout-necked, through so many days and such various weather, must ne=
eds
bow his head and lie down meekly on his side. The elephant and the beetle,
equal now in a silent land where a vertebra and a red circulation counted f=
or
nothing, had to snuggle down where best they might, only a little less crow=
ded
than in their native Ark.
The earth was shovelled in and stamped down, a=
nd I
was glad that no orisons were said and no speechifying took place. The whole
thing was natural and right and self-explanatory, and needed no justifying =
or interpreting
to our audience of stars and flowers. The connection was not entirely broken
now--one link remained between us and them. The Noah's Ark, with its cargo =
of
sad-faced emigrants, might be hull down on the horizon, but two of its
passengers had missed the boat and would henceforth be always near us; and,=
as
we played above them, an elephant would understand, and a beetle would hear,
and crawl again in spirit along a familiar floor. Henceforth the spotty hor=
se
would scour along far-distant plains and know the homesickness of alien
stables; but Potiphar, though never again would he paw the arena when
bull-fights were on the bill, was spared maltreatment by town-bred stranger=
s,
quite capable of mistaking him for a cow. Jerry and Esmeralda might shed th=
eir limbs
and their stuffing, by slow or swift degrees, in uttermost parts and ungues=
sed
corners of the globe; but Rosa's book was finally closed, and no worse fate
awaited her than natural dissolution almost within touch and hail of famili=
ar
faces and objects that had been friendly to her since first she opened her =
eyes
on a world where she had never been treated as a stranger.
As we turned to go, the man in the moon, tangl=
ed
in elm-boughs, caught my eye for a moment, and I thought that never had he
looked so friendly. He was going to see after them, it was evident; for he =
was always
there, more or less, and it was no trouble to him at all, and he would tell=
them
how things were still going, up here, and throw in a story or two of his own
whenever they seemed a trifle dull. It made the going away rather easier, to
know one had left somebody behind on the spot; a good fellow, too, cheery,
comforting, with a fund of anecdote; a man in whom one had every confidence=
.