... If studious, copie fair what time hath blurred,
Redeem truth from his jawes; if souldier,
Chase brave employments with a naked sword
Throughout the world. Fool not; for all may have,
If they dare try, a glorious life, or grave.
* * * * *
In brief, acquit thee bravely: play the man. Look not on
pleasures as they come, but go. Defer not the least vertue:
life's poore span Make not an ell, by trifling in thy woe. If
thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains. If well, the pain
doth fade, the joy remains.
GEORGE HERBERT.
Young Mrs. Johnson, who was a mother of many, hardly knew which to
pity more; Miss Jessamine for having her little ways and her
antimacassars rumpled by a young Jackanapes; or the boy himself, for
being brought up by an old maid.
Oddly enough, she would probably have pitied neither, had Jackanapes
been a girl. (One is so apt to think that what works smoothest works
to the highest ends, having no patience for the results of friction.)
That Father in GOD, who bade the young men to be pure, and the maidens
brave, greatly disturbed a member of his congregation, who thought
that the great preacher had made a slip of the tongue.
"That the girls should have purity, and the boys courage, is what you
would say, good Father?"
"Nature has done that," was the reply; "I meant what I said."
In good sooth, a young maid is all the better for learning some
robuster virtues than maidenliness and not to move the antimacassars.
And the robuster virtues require some fresh air and freedom. As, on
the other hand, Jackanapes (who had a boy's full share of the little
beast and the young monkey in his natural composition) was none the
worse, at his tender years, for learning some maidenliness--so far as
maidenliness means decency, pity, unselfishness and pretty behavior.
And it is due to him to say that he was an obedient boy, and a boy
whose word could be depended on, long before his grandfather the
General came to live at the Green.
He was obedient; that is he did what his great aunt told him. But--oh
dear! oh dear!--the pranks he played, which it had never entered into
her head to forbid!
It was when he had just been put into skeletons (frocks never suited
him) that he became very friendly with Master Tony Johnson, a younger
brother of the young gentleman who sat in the puddle on purpose. Tony
was not enterprising, and Jackanapes led him by the nose. One summer's
evening they were out late, and Miss Jessamine was becoming anxious,
when Jackanapes presented himself with a ghastly face all besmirched
with tears. He was unusually subdued.
"I'm afraid," he sobbed; "if you please, I'm very much afraid that
Tony Johnson's dying in the churchyard."
Miss Jessamine was just beginning to be distracted, when she smelt
Jackanapes.
"You naughty, naughty boys! Do you mean to tell me that you've been
smoking?"
"Not pipes," urged Jackanapes; "upon my honor, Aunty, not pipes. Only
segars like Mr. Johnson's! and only made of brown paper with a very,
very little tobacco from the shop inside them."
Whereupon, Miss Jessamine sent a servant to the churchyard, who found
Tony Johnson lying on a tomb-stone, very sick, and having ceased to
entertain any hopes of his own recovery.
If it could be possible that any "unpleasantness" could arise between
two such amiable neighbors as Miss Jessamine and Mrs. Johnson--and if
the still more incredible paradox can be that ladies may differ over a
point on which they are agreed--that point was the admitted fact that
Tony Johnson was "delicate," and the difference lay chiefly in this:
Mrs. Johnson said that Tony was delicate--meaning that he was more
finely strung, more sensitive, a properer subject for pampering and
petting than Jackanapes, and that, consequently, Jackanapes was to
blame for leading Tony into scrapes which resulted in his being
chilled, frightened, or (most frequently) sick. But when Miss
Jessamine said that Tony Johnson was delicate, she meant that he was
more puling, less manly, and less healthily brought up than
Jackanapes, who, when they got into mischief together, was certainly
not to blame because his friend could not get wet, sit a kicking
donkey, ride in the giddy-go-round, bear the noise of a cracker, or
smoke brown paper with impunity, as he could.
Not that there was ever the slightest quarrel between the ladies. It
never even came near it, except the day after Tony had been so very
sick with riding Bucephalus in the giddy-go-round. Mrs. Johnson had
explained to Miss Jessamine that the reason Tony was so easily upset,
was the unusual sensitiveness (as a doctor had explained it to her) of
the nervous centres in her family--"Fiddlestick!" So Mrs. Johnson
understood Miss Jessamine to say, but it appeared that she only said
"Treaclestick!" which is quite another thing, and of which Tony was
undoubtedly fond.
[Illustration]
It was at the fair that Tony was made ill by riding on Bucephalus.
Once a year the Goose Green became the scene of a carnival. First of
all, carts and caravans were rumbling up all along, day and night.
Jackanapes could hear them as he lay in bed, and could hardly sleep
for speculating what booths and whirligigs he should find fairly
established, when he and his dog Spitfire went out after breakfast. As
a matter of fact, he seldom had to wait long for news of the Fair. The
Postman knew the window out of which Jackanapes' yellow head would
come, and was ready with his report.
"Royal Theayter, Master Jackanapes, in the old place, but be careful
o' them seats, sir; they're rickettier than ever. Two sweets and a
ginger-beer under the oak tree, and the Flying Boats is just a-coming
along the road."
No doubt it was partly because he had already suffered severely in the
Flying Boats, that Tony collapsed so quickly in the giddy-go-round. He
only mounted Bucephalus (who was spotted, and had no tail) because
Jackanapes urged him, and held out the ingenious hope that the
round-and-round feeling would very likely cure the up-and-down
sensation. It did not, however, and Tony tumbled off during the first
revolution.
Jackanapes was not absolutely free from qualms, but having once
mounted the Black Prince he stuck to him as a horseman should. During
the first round he waved his hat, and observed with some concern that
the Black Prince had lost an ear since last Fair; at the second, he
looked a little pale but sat upright, though somewhat unnecessarily
rigid; at the third round he shut his eyes. During the fourth his hat
fell off, and he clasped his horse's neck. By the fifth he had laid
his yellow head against the Black Prince's mane, and so clung anyhow
till the hobby-horses stopped, when the proprietor assisted him to
alight, and he sat down rather suddenly and said he had enjoyed it
very much.
The Grey Goose always ran away at the first approach of the caravans,
and never came back to the Green till there was nothing left of the
Fair but footmarks and oyster-shells. Running away was her pet
principle; the only system, she maintained, by which you can live long
and easily, and lose nothing. If you run away when you see danger, you
can come back when all is safe. Run quickly, return slowly, hold your
head high, and gabble as loud as you can, and you'll preserve the
respect of the Goose Green to a peaceful old age. Why should you
struggle and get hurt, if you can lower your head and swerve, and not
lose a feather? Why in the world should any one spoil the pleasure of
life, or risk his skin, if he can help it?
"'What's the use'
Said the Goose."
Before answering which one might have to consider what world--which
life--whether his skin were a goose-skin; but the Grey Goose's head
would never have held all that.
Grass soon grows over footprints, and the village children took the
oyster-shells to trim their gardens with; but the year after Tony rode
Bucephalus there lingered another relic of Fairtime, in which
Jackanapes was deeply interested. "The Green" proper was originally
only part of a straggling common, which in its turn merged into some
wilder waste land where gipsies sometimes squatted if the authorities
would allow them, especially after the annual Fair. And it was after
the Fair that Jackanapes, out rambling by himself, was knocked over by
the Gipsy's son riding the Gipsy's red-haired pony at break-neck pace
across the common.
Jackanapes got up and shook himself, none the worse, except for being
heels over head in love with the red-haired pony. What a rate he went
at! How he spurned the ground with his nimble feet! How his red coat
shone in the sunshine! And what bright eyes peeped out of his dark
forelock as it was blown by the wind!
The Gipsy boy had had a fright, and he was willing enough to reward
Jackanapes for not having been hurt, by consenting to let him have a
ride.
"Do you mean to kill the little fine gentleman, and swing us all on
the gibbet, you rascal?" screamed the Gipsy-mother, who came up just
as Jackanapes and the pony set off.
"He would get on," replied her son. "It'll not kill him. He'll fall on
his yellow head, and it's as tough as a cocoanut."
But Jackanapes did not fall. He stuck to the red-haired pony as he had
stuck to the hobbyhorse; but oh, how different the delight of this
wild gallop with flesh and blood! Just as his legs were beginning to
feel as if he did not feel them, the Gipsy boy cried "Lollo!" Round
went the pony so unceremoniously, that, with as little ceremony,
Jackanapes clung to his neck, and he did not properly recover himself
before Lollo stopped with a jerk at the place where they had started.
"Is his name Lollo?" asked Jackanapes, his hand lingering in the wiry
mane.
"Yes."
"What does Lollo mean?"
"Red."
"Is Lollo your pony?"
"No. My father's." And the Gipsy boy led Lollo away.
At the first opportunity Jackanapes stole away again to the common.
This time he saw the Gipsy-father, smoking a dirty pipe.
"Lollo is your pony, isn't he?" said Jackanapes.
"Yes."
"He's a very nice one."
"He's a racer."
"You don't want to sell him, do you?"
"Fifteen pounds," said the Gipsy-father; and Jackanapes sighed and
went home again. That very afternoon he and Tony rode the two donkeys,
and Tony managed to get thrown, and even Jackanapes' donkey kicked.
But it was jolting, clumsy work after the elastic swiftness and the
dainty mischief of the red-haired pony.
A few days later Miss Jessamine spoke very seriously to Jackanapes.
She was a good deal agitated as she told him that his grandfather, the
General, was coming to the Green, and that he must be on his very best
behavior during the visit. If it had been feasible to leave off
calling him Jackanapes and to get used to his baptismal name of
Theodore before the day after to-morrow (when the General was due), it
would have been satisfactory. But Miss Jessamine feared it would be
impossible in practice, and she had scruples about it on principle. It
would not seem quite truthful, although she had always most fully
intended that he should be called Theodore when he had outgrown the
ridiculous appropriateness of his nickname. The fact was that he had
not outgrown it, but he must take care to remember who was meant when
his grandfather said Theodore.
Indeed for that matter he must take care all along.
"You are apt to be giddy, Jackanapes," said Miss Jessamine.
"Yes aunt," said Jackanapes, thinking of the hobby-horses.
"You are a good boy, Jackanapes. Thank GOD, I can tell your
grandfather that. An obedient boy, an honorable boy, and a
kind-hearted boy. But you are--in short, you _are_ a Boy, Jackanapes.
And I hope,"--added Miss Jessamine, desperate with the results of
experience--"that the General knows that Boys will be Boys."
What mischief could be foreseen, Jackanapes promised to guard against.
He was to keep his clothes and his hands clean, to look over his
catechism, not to put sticky things in his pockets, to keep that hair
of his smooth--("It's the wind that blows it, Aunty," said
Jackanapes--"I'll send by the coach for some bear's-grease," said Miss
Jessamine, tying a knot in her pocket-handkerchief)--not to burst in
at the parlor door, not to talk at the top of his voice, not to
crumple his Sunday frill, and to sit quite quiet during the sermon, to
be sure to say "sir" to the General, to be careful about rubbing his
shoes on the doormat, and to bring his lesson-books to his aunt at
once that she might iron down the dogs' ears. The General arrived, and
for the first day all went well, except that Jackanapes' hair was as
wild as usual, for the hair-dresser had no bear's-grease left. He
began to feel more at ease with his grandfather, and disposed to talk
confidentially with him, as he did with the Postman. All that the
General felt it would take too long to tell, but the result was the
same. He was disposed to talk confidentially with Jackanapes.
[Illustration]
"Mons'ous pretty place this," he said, looking out of the lattice on
to the Green, where the grass was vivid with sunset, and the shadows
were long and peaceful.
"You should see it in Fair-week, sir," said Jackanapes, shaking his
yellow mop, and leaning back in his one of the two Chippendale
arm-chairs in which they sat.
"A fine time that, eh?" said the General, with a twinkle in his left
eye. (The other was glass.)
Jackanapes shook his hair once more. "I enjoyed this last one the best
of all," he said. "I'd so much money."
"By George, it's not a common complaint in these bad times. How much
had ye?"
"I'd two shillings. A new shilling Aunty gave me, and elevenpence I
had saved up, and a penny from the Postman--_sir_!" added Jackanapes
with a jerk, having forgotten it.
"And how did ye spend it--_sir_?" inquired the General. Jackanapes
spread his ten fingers on the arms of his chair, and shut his eyes
that he might count the more conscientiously.
"Watch-stand for Aunty, threepence. Trumpet for myself, twopence,
that's fivepence. Ginger-nuts for Tony, twopence, and a mug with a
Grenadier on for the Postman, fourpence, that's elevenpence.
Shooting-gallery a penny, that's a shilling. Giddy-go-round, a penny,
that's one and a penny. Treating Tony, one and twopence. Flying Boats
(Tony paid for himself), a penny, one and threepence. Shooting-gallery
again, one and fourpence; Fat Woman a penny, one and fivepence.
Giddy-go-round again, one and sixpence. Shooting-gallery, one and
sevenpence. Treating Tony, and then he wouldn't shoot, so I did, one
and eightpence. Living Skeleton, a penny--no, Tony treated me, the
Living Skeleton doesn't count. Skittles, a penny, one and ninepence.
Mermaid (but when we got inside she was dead), a penny, one and
tenpence. Theatre, a penny (Priscilla Partington, or the Green Lane
Murder. A beautiful young lady, sir, with pink cheeks and a real
pistol), that's one and elevenpence. Ginger beer, a penny (I _was_ so
thirsty!) two shillings. And then the Shooting-gallery man gave me a
turn for nothing, because, he said, I was a real gentleman, and spent
my money like a man."
"So you do, sir, so you do!" cried the General. "Why, sir, you spend
it like a prince.--And now I suppose you've not got a penny in your
pocket?"
"Yes I have," said Jackanapes. "Two pennies. They are saving up." And
Jackanapes jingled them with his hand.
"You don't want money except at fair-times, I suppose?" said the
General.
Jackanapes shook his mop.
"If I could have as much as I want, I should know what to buy," said
he.
"And how much do you want, if you could get it?"
"Wait a minute, sir, till I think what twopence from fifteen pounds
leaves. Two from nothing you can't, but borrow twelve. Two from
twelve, ten, and carry one. Please remember ten, sir, when I ask you.
One from nothing you can't, borrow twenty. One from twenty, nineteen,
and carry one. One from fifteen, fourteen. Fourteen pounds nineteen
and--what did I tell you to remember?"
"Ten," said the General.
"Fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and tenpence then, is what I
want," said Jackanapes.
"Bless my soul, what for?"
"To buy Lollo with. Lollo means red, sir. The Gipsy's red-haired pony,
sir. Oh, he is beautiful! You should see his coat in the sunshine! You
should see his mane! You should see his tail! Such little feet, sir,
and they go like lightning! Such a dear face, too, and eyes like a
mouse! But he's a racer, and the Gipsy wants fifteen pounds for him."
"If he's a racer, you couldn't ride him. Could you?"
"No--o, sir, but I can stick to him. I did the other day."
"You did, did you? Well, I'm fond of riding myself, and if the beast
is as good as you say, he might suit me."
"You're too tall for Lollo, I think," said Jackanapes, measuring his
grandfather with his eye.
"I can double up my legs, I suppose. We'll have a look at him
to-morrow."
"Don't you weigh a good deal?" asked Jackanapes.
"Chiefly waistcoats," said the General, slapping the breast of his
military frock-coat. "We'll have the little racer on the Green the
first thing in the morning. Glad you mentioned it, grandson. Glad you
mentioned it."
The General was as good as his word. Next morning the Gipsy and Lollo,
Miss Jessamine, Jackanapes and his grandfather and his dog Spitfire,
were all gathered at one end of the Green in a group, which so aroused
the innocent curiosity of Mrs. Johnson, as she saw it from one of her
upper windows, that she and the children took their early promenade
rather earlier than usual. The General talked to the Gipsy, and
Jackanapes fondled Lollo's mane, and did not know whether he should be
more glad or miserable if his grandfather bought him.
"Jackanapes!"
"Yes, sir!"
"I've bought Lollo, but I believe you were right. He hardly stands
high enough for me. If you can ride him to the other end of the Green,
I'll give him to you."
How Jackanapes tumbled on to Lollo's back he never knew. He had just
gathered up the reins when the Gipsy-father took him by the arm.
"If you want to make Lollo go fast, my little gentleman--"
"_I_ can make him go!" said Jackanapes, and drawing from his pocket
the trumpet he had bought in the fair, he blew a blast both loud and
shrill.
Away went Lollo, and away went Jackanapes' hat. His golden hair flew
out an aureole from which his cheeks shone red and distended with
trumpeting. Away went Spitfire, mad with the rapture of the race, and
the wind in his silky ears. Away went the geese, the cocks, the hens,
and the whole family of Johnson. Lucy clung to her mamma, Jane saved
Emily by the gathers of her gown, and Tony saved himself by a
somersault.
The Grey Goose was just returning when Jackanapes and Lollo rode back,
Spitfire panting behind.
"Good, my little gentleman, good!" said the Gipsy. "You were born to
the saddle. You've the flat thigh, the strong knee, the wiry back,
and the light caressing hand, all you want is to learn the whisper.
Come here!"
"What was that dirty fellow talking about, grandson?" asked the
General.
"I can't tell you, sir. It's a secret."
They were sitting in the window again, in the two Chippendale
arm-chairs, the General devouring every line of his grandson's face,
with strange spasms crossing his own.
"You must love your aunt very much, Jackanapes?"
"I do, sir," said Jackanapes warmly.
"And whom do you love next best to your aunt?"
The ties of blood were pressing very strongly on the General himself,
and perhaps he thought of Lollo. But Love is not bought in a day, even
with fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and tenpence. Jackanapes
answered quite readily, "The Postman."
"Why the Postman?"
"He knew my father," said Jackanapes, "and he tells me about him, and
about his black mare. My father was a soldier, a brave soldier. He
died at Waterloo. When I grow up I want to be a soldier too."
"So you shall, my boy. So you shall."
"Thank you, grandfather. Aunty doesn't want me to be a soldier for
fear of being killed."
"Bless my life! Would she have you get into a feather-bed and stay
there? Why, you might be killed by a thunderbolt, if you were a
butter-merchant!"
"So I might. I shall tell her so. What a funny fellow you are, sir! I
say, do you think my father knew the Gipsy's secret? The Postman says
he used to whisper to his black mare."
"Your father was taught to ride as a child, by one of those horsemen
of the East who swoop and dart and wheel about a plain like swallows
in autumn. Grandson! Love me a little too. I can tell you more about
your father than the Postman can."
"I do love you," said Jackanapes. "Before you came I was frightened.
I'd no notion you were so nice."
"Love me always, boy, whatever I do or leave undone. And--GOD help
me--whatever you do or leave undone, I'll love you! There shall never be
a cloud between us for a day; no, sir, not for an hour. We're imperfect
enough, all of us, we needn't be so bitter; and life is uncertain enough
at its safest, we needn't waste its opportunities. Look at me! Here sit
I, after a dozen battles and some of the worst climates in the world,
and by yonder lych gate lies your mother, who didn't move five miles, I
suppose, from your aunt's apron-strings,--dead in her teens; my
golden-haired daughter, whom I never saw."
Jackanapes was terribly troubled.
"Don't cry, grandfather," he pleaded, his own blue eyes round with
tears. "I will love you very much, and I will try to be very good. But
I should like to be a soldier."
"You shall, my boy, you shall. You've more claims for a commission
than you know of. Cavalry, I suppose; eh, ye young Jackanapes? Well,
well; if you live to be an honor to your country, this old-heart
shall grow young again with pride for you; and if you die in the
service of your country--GOD bless me, it can but break for ye!"
And beating the region which he said was all waistcoats, as if they
stifled him, the old man got up and strode out on to the Green.