A READING PARTY.
Moderations being thus thrown behind, the next step was the choice of
subjects in which to take a degree. For the Second Public or Final
Examination for the degree of B.A. there is yet further scope of
subject allowed. Here, again, a student has the option of taking a Pass
or an Honour Degree; and here also both Passmen and Classmen alike have
to pass an examination in the Rudiments of Faith and Religion, the
subjects of which are:--
(1) The Books of the Old and New Testament.
(2) The Holy Gospels and Acts of the Apostles in the original Greek.
(3) The Thirty-nine Articles.
But any candidate may for himself, or his parents or guardians for
him, object on religious grounds to this examination, and in this
case he is allowed to offer some books or subjects appointed for this
purpose by the Board of Studies.
The subjects for the Pass Degree are arranged in three groups, as
follows, the books specified being those which may now be offered till
further notice:--
GROUP A.
(1) Two books, either both Greek, or one Greek and one Latin;
one being a Greek philosophical work, and the other a Greek or
Latin historian.
_e.g._ Aristotle’s Ethics, Books i.-iv., together with
chapters 6-10 of Book x.
Aristotle’s Politics, Books i., iii., vii.
Plato--Republic, Books i.-iv.
Herodotus--Books vii.-ix.
Livy, Books xxi.-xxiv.
Tacitus--Annals, Books i.-iv.
With questions on the subject-matter of the books offered.
(2) The outlines of Greek and Roman History, with a special
period of one or the other, and English Composition.
_e.g._ Greek--from the Legislation of Solon to the
death of Alexander the Great.
Roman--from the establishment of the Republic to the
death of Domitian.
Special periods.
Greek--the Persian war; the Peloponnesian war.
Roman--the second Punic war; the reign of Tiberius.
GROUP B.
(1) Either English History and a period or subject of English
Literature, or a period of modern European History, with
Political and Descriptive Geography, with English Composition
in each case.
_e.g._ English History to 1815, with one of the
following:--
(_a_) Piers Ploughman--the Prologue, Passus
i.-vii.; Chaucer--the Prologue, the Knightes Tale,
the Nonne Prestes Tale.
(_b_) Shakespeare--The Tempest, King Lear, Richard
II., Hamlet.
(_c_) Dryden--Selections; Pope--Essay on Man,
Epistles and Satires.
(2) French or German, including Composition and a period of
Literature.
_e.g._ Molière, Le Tartuffe; Corneille, Les Horaces,
_or_ Racine, Athalie; Voltaire, Siècle de Louis XIV.,
Chapters i.-xxiv., with a general acquaintance with
the History and Literature of the Age of Louis XIV.;
unseen passages of French: _or_, Schiller, the Maid of
Orleans; Goethe, Hermann and Dorothea, _or_ Lessing,
Nathan der Weise; Goethe, Wahrheit und Dichtung, Books
i.-iv., with a general acquaintance with the History
of the Classical period of German Literature (from
Klopstock to Goethe); unseen passages of German.
(3) The Elements of Political Economy, to be read in Fawcett’s
Manual, and Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Nations,” Books i. and ii.
(4) Either Stephen’s “Blackstone,” Book ii., _or_ Justinian’s
“Institutes,” omitting from Book ii., tit. 11, to Book iii.,
tit. 12.
GROUP C.
(1) The Elements of Geometry, including Geometrical
Trigonometry.
(2) The Elements of Mechanics, solid and fluid, treated
mathematically.
(3) The Elements of Chemistry, with a practical examination.
(4) The Elements of Physics, not necessarily treated
mathematically.
Of the above subjects in the three groups each candidate is examined
in three, of which not more than two can be taken from any one of the
three groups, and of which one must be either A (1) or B (2). The
examinations in the three subjects may be passed in separate terms.
The commonest selections made are as follows:--
GROUP A (1).
GROUP B (3) and (4).
Those men who prefer History will naturally offer the outlines of
Ancient History, as it works well with the text-books in Group A
(1). Those who are going to the Bar or to be admitted as solicitors
will naturally offer one of the branches of Law, the Roman Law being
especially the favourite with Bar-students, as the Roman Law Bar
Examination may be studied for and passed almost simultaneously. The
choice for the Classman lies among the following:--
1. LITERÆ HUMANIORES, including--
(1) The Greek and Latin Languages.
(_a_) Specified books and books not specially
offered.
(_b_) Translations into Greek and Latin Prose.
(2) The Histories of Ancient Greece and Rome.
(_a_) Specified periods.
(_b_) General knowledge of Classical Geography and
Antiquities.
(3) Philosophy.
(_a_) Logic.
(_b_) The outlines of Moral Philosophy.
(_c_) The outlines of Political Philosophy.
3. MATHEMATICS.
(_a_) Elementary Pure Mathematics.
(_b_) Elementary Mechanics of Solid and Fluid Bodies.
(_c_) Pure Mathematics.
(_d_) Mechanics of Solid and Fluid Bodies.
(_e_) Optics, Geometrical and Physical.
(_f_) Newton’s Principia and Astronomy.
4. NATURAL SCIENCE.
Preliminary: Mechanics.
Physics.
Chemistry.
Final: Physics.
Chemistry.
Biology.
And the following special subjects:--
(_a_) Crystallography and Mineralogy.
(_b_) Geology and Palæontology.
(_c_) Zoology.
(_d_) Botany.
--taken respectively as supplementary to the general
subjects.
5. JURISPRUDENCE.
(1) General Jurisprudence.
The principles of Jurisprudence, the theory of
Legislation, and the early history of Legal
Institutions. Special reference to Austin’s
Lectures, Bentham’s Principles of Morals and
Legislation, and the works of Sir Henry Maine.
(2) History of English Law.
(_a_) Constitutional Law.
The leading principles and the following
topics:--Legislative power of Parliament, the
modes in which it is exercised, and its extent
as to territory and persons.
The prerogatives of the Crown, the privileges
of the Houses of Parliament.
The constitutional position of the Privy
Council, the Ministers of the Crown, the
Established Church, the Courts of Law, and the
Armed Forces.
Reference to Blackstone or Stephens’
“Commentaries,” Stubbs’ “Documents Illustrative
of English History,” Hallam’s “Constitutional
History,” and Sir T. E. May’s “Constitutional
History.”
The following statutes must be carefully read:
Constitutions of Clarendon. Magna Charta, Stat.
Westminster II. 13 Ed. 1, Stat. 1, c. 24.
Petition of Right. Habeas Corpus Act, 31 Car.
II. c. 2. Bill of Rights, 1 W. and M. Sess. 2,
2. Act of Settlement, 12 and 13 Will. III. c. 2.
(_b_) History of the Law of Real Property.
Reference to Blackstone or Stephens’
“Commentaries,” Digby’s “Introduction to the
History of Real Property.” Principal statutes
referred to in the latter must be mastered,
and reference may with advantage be made
to Williams’ “Treatise on the Law of Real
Property.”
(3) Roman Law.
The Institutes of Gaius.
The Institutes of Justinian.
(4) English Law.
The principles of the Law of Contracts.
(5) International Law.
(_a_) The outlines of International Law as a
system.
(_b_) The history of the law relating to seas,
ships, and navigable rivers in time of peace.
Reference to Woolsey’s “Introduction,” and
Heffter’s “Europäisches Völkerrecht,” Wheaton’s
“Elements,” or “Law of Nations,” by Sir Travers
Twiss. On subject (_b_) Ortolan’s “Diplomatie de la
Mer,” livre deuxième.
6. MODERN HISTORY.
(1) The continuous History of England.
(2) General History during some selected period.
(3) A special portion of History or a special
Historical subject, carefully studied with reference to
original authorities.
(4) Political Economy, Constitutional Law, and
Political and Descriptive Geography.
(5) A subject or period of Literature (optional).
7. THEOLOGY.
(1) The Holy Scriptures (the New Testament in the
Greek).
(2) Dogmatic and Symbolic Theology.
(3) Ecclesiastical History and the Fathers.
(4) The Evidences of Religion.
(5) Liturgies.
(6) Sacred Criticism and the Archæology of the Old and
New Testaments.
Knowledge of Hebrew has great weight in the distribution of
Honours.
Frank had always intended to go in for one of the Honour Schools, but
agreed with his father that there was no necessity to avail himself
of the longest allowance of time granted. He need not present himself
for three years, but his father decided that two years was quite long
enough, in addition to the year he had already spent. He must do what
he could in the two years.
There was no dispute between father and son. Their views corresponded.
Frank was to be called to the Bar, and the Honour School of Law
was chosen for the degree. The subjects for this would, in a great
measure, answer the further purpose of the Bar Call Examination. Mr.
Ross proposed to enter Frank’s name at the Inner Temple in the ensuing
Michaelmas Term. He should then “eat dinners” during the two years in
which he was reading for his Oxford degree; that taken, he should have
one year’s reading in a barrister’s chambers. This, he considered,
ought to qualify him not only in book-work, but practically for a call.
Moreover, it would give him just the necessary time to complete the
statutable number of terms.
Frank was anxious to enter at once, before the Trinity Term was
over, but on this point his father was firm. There was no need for
such immediate hurry. As it was, he would be qualified for a call, at
an age considerably below the average. Mr. Ross had noticed that the
first Long Vacation had been, comparatively speaking, wasted. He had
said nothing, but had resolved that the second and third should not
be a repetition of the first. He therefore directed Frank to write to
his college tutor, Mr. Woods, for particulars of the subjects for the
Honour Law School, and for advice as to a “coach” for part of the Long
Vacation; and he himself wrote to his old friend, Mr. Wodehouse, on the
latter point.
Frank’s letter from Mr. Woods was as follows:--
“Paul’s.
“DEAR MR. ROSS,--I am very glad to hear that you have so soon
made up your mind as to the subjects in which you propose to
take your degree; and I have no doubt your father’s plan of
entering you at the Inner Temple next Michaelmas Term is a wise
one.
“Mr. Edwards, of University College, is, I have every reason
to believe, a most advisable Law ‘coach.’ He is just now
arranging a reading party to Switzerland, and I should hope
your father will consent to your joining. Tell him from me that
reading parties are not what they were in my undergraduate
days--mere pleasure-trips, in which work forms the very last
consideration. The few men now who go with a reading party
really go to read. You may mention my name in writing to Mr.
Edwards. He will, of course, furnish you with all particulars.
“Believe me, yours sincerely,
“J. WOODS.”
The letter from Mr. Wodehouse was characteristic:--
“DEAR MR. ROSS,--Law is not my line, or I would take your boy
myself; but I know an excellent coach, Edwards of University,
who is now settling a reading party, for Switzerland, I
believe. Send your boy with him; you can’t do better. I send
by this post a copy of the Examination Regulations, revised to
this date. Details, of course, you will get from Edwards.
“I am yours truly,
“PHILIP WODEHOUSE.”
After the letters, there was not much difficulty in deciding that
Edwards was the coach to be secured. But the Swiss tour! Frank said
nothing, nor did Mr. Ross--the former because he knew his father’s
disposition, the latter because he would not promise what he might not
be able, with justice to the rest of his family, to afford.
However, after a suspense of three days, Frank was summoned after
breakfast to the study. His father had received a letter from the
coach, telling him the probable cost of the tour, and he had decided
to send Frank. The party would leave London on the 1st of July. They
were to meet for dinner at the Grosvenor Hotel at six o’clock, and go
from Victoria by the mail that catches the night-boat from Dover to
Calais. Mr. Edwards added a few particulars as to books, and, rightly
conjecturing this to be Frank’s first journey abroad, some suggestions
as to clothes and necessaries generally.
Mr. Ross winced a little when he heard the route that was chosen. But
when he had made up his mind to an expense, he was not a man to worry
over the inevitable extras.
The few days of June that remained passed quickly enough. Frank,
somehow, was not at home as much as his brothers and sisters could have
wished. At meals there were sundry questions as to his doings, amused
looks at his evident confusion, till even Mr. Ross, usually oblivious
to the jokes that passed between the young folks, questioned his wife
as to their meaning.
When he heard the suggestion, he at first laughed at it as ridiculous,
then said the whole affair was “out of the question,” not from any
dislike to Rose, for he was indeed very fond of her, and finally saying
he would speak to Frank, said nothing after all.
* * * * *
It was a soft, sweet evening, that of June 30th, and Frank, having
finished his packing, slipped out unnoticed after dinner. It was a
difficult matter to avoid the prying eyes of his brothers, but the
dessert that evening was unusually absorbing, and long after Mr.
and Mrs. Ross had left the table, the boys were diligently making
themselves ill. Seizing the opportunity, he was three fields beyond the
paddock before his absence was even mentioned.
He was sad, down-hearted, romantically melancholy. And yet he had a
delightful tour through Switzerland in store. Porchester had never
seemed such a lovely little place. No Swiss mountains could ever have
such beauty as those soft hills yonder; no glaciers the charm of the
gently flowing river; no Alpine forests the sweetness of these English
meadows, now silvering with the evening dew, and softening in the
falling mist. He stopped by a gate. He found his initials cut there,
just in one corner out of sight; and near them one other letter. Three
years ago he had broken his best knife, and cut his finger, over that
little work. And there it was still--lichened over now, but still
legible. He would not touch it. He wondered if it would still be there
when he came back. When he came back! Was the boy going to India for
twenty years, or to the North Pole? Who would touch the letters? Who
would even read them? Who that came by this way would be likely to stop
by that uninteresting gate, and draw aside those great dock-leaves
merely to see F. R. and R. clumsily carved? And who, if they saw them,
would trouble to deface them?
But Frank was in love and was proportionately melancholy. And lo! as in
answer to his thoughts, softly over the new-cut grass comes the vicar’s
daughter.
It should be clearly understood that the pathway along which Rose
came so opportunely was public, though seldom frequented. It led
from the village of Porchester to a ferry, and this carried you to a
hamlet, Wood Green, that lay within the vicar’s ministrations. Just
now there was illness in the hamlet, and Rose used daily to visit the
sick. Frank, on no such journeys bent, passed many hours of those last
days of June about the fields, and crossing and re-crossing in the
ferry-boat. Luckily this was worked by a marvellous contrivance of
wheels, ropes, and poles, and there was no observant Charon to wonder
at, and then report, the strange and repeated passages of the lawyer’s
son. Last evening, at the same time and place, he had met Rose: had
told her he was leaving for Switzerland: had gone so far as to ask her
if she was going to Wood Green the next evening; and she, because she
was Rose, told him yes. Perhaps there was another reason, the cause of
which lay in him. But she never speculated. He had asked her, and she
had told him. She was going to Wood Green, and why not say so?
They walked slowly, oh! so slowly, across the misty meadows. They
crossed, as lazily as the stream would suffer them, the little ferry.
They reached Wood Green. It was only a basket and a message that Rose
had to deliver to-night, and Frank had not long to wait at the little
white wicket at Vowles’s cottage. Then back again, across the ferry,
and up the fields; and then, just by the gateway where they had met,
they stopped, and he showed her something, pulling aside the gigantic
dock-leaves--three letters, rudely cut, and covered with lichen.
“I cut them three years ago,” he said. “Was it very silly?”
“I don’t know,” she answered.
“I loved you then, Rose,” he said softly, taking her hand, “but I love
you a thousand times more now, darling.”
And Rose has told him something that makes him utterly happy--something
they have known these many weeks, but neither has dared to express.
They are but children, but why should they not be happy? Only boy and
girl, but is that any reason why their love should not be true? And
so they walk back through the deepening summer night, he as proud as
knight of old, and she as happy as any “fair ladye.” And then by the
vicarage garden-gate they say good-bye. They have not thought of the
future. The present is theirs, and that is enough. She is a simple
little village girl, and he an undergraduate; that is all. But “all” is
a great deal to them.
At six o’clock in the evening of July 1st, Edwards and his six pupils
dined at the Grosvenor, wisely and not too well, in view of the passage
that night. The party consisted of Hoskins of Brasenose, reading for
Honours in Law; Lang and Kingdon of Christ Church, Maude of John’s, and
Royds of Exeter, reading for the Final Pass Schools; and Frank, who had
thus one companion only in work. Edwards was quite a young man. He had
been married about two years, but left his wife and child at home. He
was just of an age not to be “donnish,” and yet old enough to command a
certain amount of necessary respect.
The pecuniary arrangements were as usual. Each was to pay his own
personal expenses, and tuition-fee to Edwards at the rate of 10_l._
per month. But for the sake of convenience he would make the actual
payments, and divide the amounts weekly.
At Victoria they broke up, for most of the men wanted to smoke.
Edwards was not a smoker, and would have travelled to Dover alone
had not Frank got into his compartment. The coach’s weakness in this
respect was the one little difficulty on the tour, and afforded a fund
of amusement to the rest, who were young enough to regard a non-smoker
with feelings of surprise. With the exception of Royds, none of the
seven had ever been abroad. He spoke French slightly, and had a
smattering of German. Edwards could not speak a word of the former,
but knew enough of the latter for comfort in travelling. No one else
spoke either. Royds plumed himself on his position of superiority, not
without offence to the rest of the party, who one and all joined in
snubbing him whenever he forgot his relation to Edwards. He was just a
source of a little “pleasant acidity.”
“I should advise you to lie down, if you’re inclined to be sea-sick,”
said Royds, for the benefit of the party generally, when they were on
board. “I never am.”
Edwards retired to the centre of the boat; Frank rolled himself in a
rug on a bench near the central deck cabins. The rest again consoled
themselves with cigars. The passage was long, for the night was foggy;
but the water was calm as a duck-pond. Nevertheless, Royds looked very
pale as he landed at Calais.
They reached Paris in the early sweetness of the morning. And what
a charm the great city has at that hour, and to first-comers! The
brightness, the laughter, the sunshine of the town in its life! What a
contrast to the death and dirt of London at such an hour!
They rushed across to an hotel near the Lyons Station, and after a
hasty breakfast, breaking into three parties, drove all over the place,
seeing, not “doing,” as much as time allowed. In the evening they left
for Geneva. Here they stayed two nights, and then went on to Chamounix
by _diligence_. From Chamounix they ascended the Montanvert to cross
the Mer de Glace.
This was their first climb. Royds, of course, had been before;
and with quite a paternal air he selected a guide one evening, and
marshalled the party the following morning. Going up the pine-woods,
their weary eyes were refreshed by the sight of three female figures.
Without confessing as much to one another, they one and all quickened.
But still those much-wished-for forms retreated, nor did they stop
till the little hut on the top was reached. And then!--But we draw a
veil. They were charming ladies, and delighted to see these gay young
Englishmen. But, dear ladies! they were not young. However, they were
very pleasant, and the sound of the English tongue has a marvellous
charm among foreigners.
The following morning, at ten o’clock, the corner by the Hôtel de
l’Union was the centre of interest for the good folks of Chamounix.
There at the hotel door stood seven sturdy mules and two guides. And
presently, to the infinite delight of the bystanders, seven young
Englishmen, followed by many packages, emerged and mounted. They were
bound for Martigny, over the Col de Balme.
Poor guides! Unaccustomed to such riders, they started on their
journey in happy ignorance. That evening, at seven o’clock, after a
game struggle to keep within sight of their charges, they gave it up.
And the cavalcade, headed by Edwards, putting their mules to their
utmost speed (no contemptible pace considering their day’s work), raced
wildly by the wondering villagers into Martigny. Knapsacks banged and
flapped over the mules’ backs; tutor and pupils were boys once more,
and simply shouted with delight as they clattered through the quiet
streets. Much to his disgust the great Royds did not come in first. His
was the worst mule, he explained at _table-d’hôte_.
All slept soundly that night at Martigny.
There they again fell in with the ladies of the hut on Montanvert,
and talked, with all the energy of comrades in danger, of the
crossing of the Mer de Glace and the descent of the Mauvais Pas, to
the not-unreasonable amusement of Royds. Next morning they left for
Brieg, going by rail to Sierre, not without missing the first train,
and imprecating maledictions on the head of the landlord who, his
hotel being somewhat empty, was constrained to adopt some measures for
detaining his profitable guests. Arrived at Sierre, they were told
the _diligence_ for Brieg had started, and were offered carriages.
A little patience, however, proved this to be one of the usual
misrepresentations, and in due course, after a hearty _déjeûner_ in the
pretty old inn, they started in the company of a very fat ecclesiastic
and a young and happy couple of Americans. From Brieg, which they
reached at eight, after heavy rain, they were to ascend the Bel-alp,
where Edwards intended to stay for a clear fortnight or three weeks for
work.
There was no _diligence_ to the Bel-alp; that they knew; but they had
fondly hoped there was a carriage-road. They were quickly undeceived.
There was only a bridle-path, and it was now late and getting dark. But
Edwards had resolved to push on without further delay, and, seeing he
was firm, the landlord of “La Poste” raised no objections. The heavier
luggage was to be carried up, on the following day. The absolute
necessaries were packed on the sturdy shoulders of two guides; and at
half-past eight the party started. The rain, which had been falling
heavily all the afternoon, fortunately ceased, but there was no moon,
and the clouds hung thickly. The darkness intensified the grandeur of
the hills and made the climb seem harder. Once, as they passed between
a cluster of _châlets_, all dark and still, the moon struggled into
view, and far below they saw a great white sea; but it was only the
mist that lay along the valley. At half-past ten they reached the first
halting-place, a little _châlet_ perched on a level plateau. There was
no light, and only the sound of the bells on the cows whose slumbers
they had disturbed. But presently, after some patient knocking, the
door was opened by a young giant of seven feet, with a sturdy girl at
his side.
Royds, the officious, the experienced, the polite traveller, advanced,
took off his hat, and made some remarks in French; but neither host
nor hostess understood him, and the guide’s _patois_ was necessary
to explain. In they all trooped to the rough, low, wooden room, glad
enough to rest. The wine was sour, but it was the landlord’s best; and
they all made merry. Then one of the guides sang a Tyrolese ditty, of
which the following is a paraphrase:--
“With rifle aye ready,
A dog of sharp scent,
And a maiden to love him,
A lad is content.
“What needs hath the hunter?
The hunter hath none
But a nut-brown-eyed maiden,
A dog, and a gun.
“On Sunday, the church-day,
To dance we are gone;
Andrew leads Peggy,
Janet leads John.”
And then the guides, the landlord, and his wife all sang together; the
young giant representing the love-sick tenor in such a way as to make
every one shout with laughter:--
_Tenor._ “Out of the Tyrol I come, a long, long way,
To look for my sweetheart, my little May.
_Bass._ What does he say?
_Soprano._ Ah, poor lover!
_All._ So long, so long he has not seen his love,
So long he has not seen his love!
_Tenor._ “As any bright penny was my little Jenny!
And a dimple was in
My Jenny’s sweet chin!
_Bass._ What does he say?
_All._ So long, so long he has not seen his love!
_Tenor._ “’Tis two long years agone
Since I left my love alone;
I’d give my true love’s weight in gold
Could I her face behold.
_Bass._ Hark what he says!
_Soprano._ O what a fond lover!
_All._ So long, so long he has not seen his love!”
And then Edwards sang an English song, the rest joining in the chorus,
to the infinite delight of the Switzers. After which the guide
suggested moving on.
At half-past one they reached the Bel-alp, and found, somewhat to
their surprise, that there was no village, not even a _châlet_, but
only a great inn, half wooden, half stone. The landlord, a little, fat,
hoarse-speaking man, with a thick black moustache, and two cow-girls,
called chambermaids, with their faces swathed in flannel, met them; and
presently they slept soundly in their little bare rooms, with their
wooden walls and ceilings, that made them feel for all the world as
though they were dolls put to bed in boxes.
But what a view next morning! Down there in the valley, as they stand
at the inn door, they can just make out where Brieg lies. Beyond, the
entrance to the Simplon Pass; and, over all, the Matterhorn, Weisshorn,
Monte Leone, Mischabel, and the Fletschhorn. Up behind them towers
the great white Sparrenhorn. Down on the left crawls the broad Aletsh
Glacier, with its huge, rough, pale-blue waves moving and melting, and
foaming at the “snout” in torrents of stormy water.
The inn was full, and three weeks went pleasantly enough. People
came and went, for the most part bound to or from the Eggisch-horn.
Every now and then there was a brief excitement caused by the arrival
of some friend whom chance had brought. Some of the visitors were
regularly settled, and with these the men soon formed acquaintance:
notably, Professor Tyndall, who was there on one of his usual summer
visits, measuring the motion of the glaciers, and who, as “Father of
the Table-d’hôte,” made the meals doubly pleasant with his genial
talk and merry laugh. Then there was another, well known in the
public-school world, with his wife--a jolly pair--and a young couple
from Ireland, who, oddly enough, turned out to be distant connexions
of Lang. The husband fraternized with the men in their climbs. The
wife spent most of her time rambling along the mountain paths within
easy distance, in which she was not unfrequently accompanied by Royds,
who flattered himself on being eminently a “ladies’ man.” There were
several old ladies who, each evening, used to entice the men to whist.
Frank usually was one of those caught. Lang and Maude, the two lazy
ones of the party, always retired to the smoking-room, whence they
never emerged till midnight. The others, for the most part, read in the
common sitting-room. Edwards devoted four hours in the morning to his
pupils’ work, from 8 to 12, and one hour before dinner. Out of respect
for Lang and Maude, their hour was fixed at 11. But, as often as not,
when that hour arrived, on looking out of the window to call them in,
their coach would hear that they were not down yet, or would see them
strolling casually down the hill to meet the mules which brought the
letters or the day’s provisions from Brieg.
“Haven’t got any work ready yet,” would be Lang’s answer, if Edwards
managed to overtake them.
“Do you mind taking me after dinner?” from Maude.
But in spite of the idleness of these two, the average amount of work
achieved by the party was very creditable, and Edwards was satisfied.
At the end of the fixed three weeks, to the great regret of the
landlord (for he found the young Oxonians thirsty to a degree) and of
most of the guests, the party departed. They went as they came, on
foot, with a couple of horses to carry their luggage, and a couple of
guides to carry Lang, who had contrived to strain his ankle. They slept
one night in Brieg--a short, restless night, with the _diligences_
rolling through the streets and clattering into the courtyards, with
jingling bells and cracking whips, the shouts of the drivers, and the
agonized voices of weary and confused travellers. At six, in the fresh
clear dawn, they took the _diligence_ for the Rhone Glacier, and thence
over the Furka to Andermatt. There, also, they slept one night--in
fact, slept so soundly that when the _diligence_ started next morning
for Flüelen by the St. Gothard Pass, Edwards, Frank, and Royds alone
were in time for breakfast and for choice of seats; Hoskins and Kingdon
only saved their seats by chasing the _diligence_ after it had started;
while the first that Lang and Maude saw of the morning was the sight
of the _diligence_ turning a corner, with three of their companions
seated outside, and two running frantically after it. But they consoled
themselves with the reflection that this delay would furnish them
with an excellent excuse for “cutting” the next day’s lesson with
Edwards. Frank was separated from the rest of the party, having for his
companion a little soldier who spoke neither French nor German, but an
unintelligible _patois_ which made conversation impossible.
About ten o’clock they passed Altdorf. The little town looked so
bright and gay, full of reverence for its William Tell, and ignorant
of, or despising, the knowledge that makes his story a myth. Thence to
Flüelen, and thence over the clear waters of the Vierwaldstätter See to
Lucerne. What a change from the Bel-alp! Here all is softened--grown
Italian almost. Just in the distance a few snowy peaks; but the
frowning heights have melted to soft wooded hills--running down to
look at themselves in the glassy mirror. Lucerne was reached about
one o’clock; and here, at the Englischer Hof, right on the quay, a
hospitable welcome met them.
Lang and Maude revelled in the change. For them the Bel-alp was too
cold, too dull; but here they had the lake, the shops, the _cafés_,
the band at night, and all those countless charms which no English
town seems to possess. Here even Frank relaxed a little. They made
excursions every day, for the most part in the comfortable little
steamers. They went up the Rigi luxuriously in the train. Edwards,
Royds, and Frank climbed Pilatus; the rest were content with the Rigi.
They bought presents, useless as well as useful; they strummed on the
_salon_ piano, and sang in broken German, to the intense delight of
the waiters. They spent the evenings invariably in a little _café_
round the corner, where Gretchen’s merry black eyes flashed from one
to another, hardly divining the relationship of the party; or, if not
there, on the _boulevard_, listening to the band; and sometimes on the
lake; and it was on one of these occasions that Edwards astonished them
by his vocal as well as his poetical powers.
He called his song, “The Lay of the Vice-Chancellor,” and it ran as
follows:--
“I’ve sung you many a ditty, some stupid and some witty,
In our snug and cosy common-rooms after dinner many a day;
But there’s one I have omitted, of a blunder I committed,
That may serve you as a warning, and may while an hour away.
When I was young and hearty, I took a reading party
(“Hear, hear!” from the audience)
To study in America one summer long ago;
And while out there we tarried, I went--and--I got married,
And what that is, my bachelors, you very little know.
But upon that little portion of my most unhappy tale,
Will you kindly, will you kindly draw a veil, draw a veil?
_Chorus._--Draw a veil! draw a veil!
“But oh! when I reflected that I should be expected
To forfeit either Fellowship or wife,
I thought ’twould be a pity she should leave her native city
And be tied to an old tutor all her life.
When I pictured you all cosy, at your port wine old and rosy,
And I was at cold mutton, and romance was growing cool--
When I thought of you so gaily dining gloriously daily,
I took a _single_ cabin in a ship for Liverpool.
But upon the mix’d emotions of my hurried homeward sail,
Will you kindly, will you kindly draw a veil, draw a veil?
_Chorus_ (_very gently_).--Draw a veil! draw a veil!
“Since then, by her unhamper’d, up fame’s ladder I have scamper’d,
And run through all our snug berths in a trice;
I’ve been Bursar, Dean, Professor, Public Orator, Assessor,
And sat on a commission once or twice.
I’ve told quite different stories to the Liberals and Tories;
I’ve snarl’d among the Radicals, “Retrench!”
But I really should not wonder if my friend Lord Blood-and-Thunder,
On the very next occasion, should transfer me to the Bench.
So really let me beg you on _that_ portion of my tale,
Will you kindly, will you kindly draw a veil, draw a veil?
_Chorus._--Draw a veil! draw a veil!”
When they were all back again in Oxford, even many terms afterwards,
“Draw a veil” was always a sort of pass-word between them.
A fortnight soon passed, and they travelled together to Paris. Here
they parted, Frank going straight to Porchester, Edwards to Oxford.
Frank had made a good start with his law reading, and, thanks to
Edwards’ style of teaching, had thoroughly grasped all that he had
touched, and what is more, liked his subjects. One practical point
before passing to other scenes: his expenses were 50_l._;--35_l._ for
railway fares, hotel bills, &c., 15_l._ to Edwards for tuition.