Dr. Dunston was always awfully great on the classic idea of Fate. He
made millions of efforts to make us understand it, but failed. Blades
said he understood it, and so did Abbott, and, of course, the Sixth said
they did. But they always pretend to understand everything, including
the War. Fate is the same as Greek tragedy, and a very difficult subject
indeed.
Anyway, Cornwallis and me couldn't understand Fate, or how it worked
exactly, until that far-famous whole holiday and the remarkable
adventure which made Cornwallis and me blaze out into great fame, though
only for a short while. As long as it lasted, however, the fame was
wonderful; for the sudden, curious result of being somebody, after you
have for many years been nobody, not only leaves its mark on your own
character, but quite changes the opinion of other people about you, and
also the way they behave to you. Enemies slack off and even offer to
become friends, and people who have been your friends when you were
nobody, redouble in their affection, and even get a sort of feeble fame
themselves, owing to being able to approach you as a matter of course
and not as a favour.
All this happened to Cornwallis and me; and though fame is said to have
a very bad effect on some people, and make them get above themselves,
like the Germans and Austrians, for instance, in our case, though
dazzling in its way, the fame died out almost as quickly as it sprang
up. In fact, to show you what people are, and what envy may do, just as
Cornwallis and me began to sink back into our usual obscurity in the
Lower Third, some beasts, such as Pegram and the master, Brown, said in
public that the whole excitement was a mild attack of hysteria and utter
footle, and that neither Cornwallis nor me had done anything but make
little asses of ourselves, and that it was all pure luck and not fame at
all.
But, anyway, the adventure did this for Cornwallis and also for me--it
explained what the Doctor really meant by Fate; and afterwards we were
always tremendously keen about Fate, and spoke well of it, though
before, it had, if anything, rather bored us, because, at the age of
ten, your fate is generally so far off. Until the great adventure I
can't honestly say I had seen Fate bothering about Cornwallis, and he
had never seen it bothering in the least about me; but afterwards,
having, as you may say, got thoroughly to understand its ways, and its
special interest in us on a very important occasion--in fact, what you
might call a matter of life and death--we always felt a sharp interest
in it, and often noticed little marks of Fate at work both in school and
out--sometimes for us and sometimes for other people. Not, of course,
always for us, because, as Cornwallis said, and I agreed, we weren't
everybody, and when it came to prizes and getting into "elevens," and
other advantages, Fate undoubtedly favoured various chaps far more than
us. But as I pointed out to Cornwallis, after saving our lives in a
very ingenious and unexpected way, no doubt it had done enough for us
for some years, and intended to give us a rest. We both saw the
fairness of this, and did not complain in the least at our rather bad
failures in the Lower Third afterwards. But, curiously enough, Dr.
Dunston, though so well up in Greek tragedy and the ways of Fate as a
rule, missed this, and said our reports were a scandal and a source of
the utmost discomfort to him, and far from showing our gratitude to Fate
as we ought to have shown it after the terrible affair of "Foster Day."
"Foster Day" was an important day at Merivale. It arose from the mists
of antiquity, as they say, because among the first pupils old Dunston
ever had, when he started Merivale, was a chap called Foster. He was
very rich, and his father lived at Daleham, on the sea coast, and had a
mansion and thousands of acres of land running down to the sea. This
Foster seems to have liked the Doctor, and been a great success at
Merivale; and his rich father evidently liked the Doctor, too, and so,
when young Foster had the bad luck to fall for his country in the Boer
War, the rich father Foster built a beautiful and precious chapel to his
memory at Daleham, and had his soldier son carved in pure marble and put
in the chapel. It was known as a memorial chapel, and simply couldn't
be beaten in its way. And, not content with doing this, the rich father
arranged with Dunston that fifty boys from Merivale should once every
year come to a service in this chapel, and, after the service was over,
be entertained in his grounds and on the sea-shore with games and
luscious foods. The Doctor fell in with this excellent plan readily, and
now for some years, on the seventh day of July, which was the day the
splendid young soldier Foster had fallen, fifty chaps from Merivale
drove over in brakes to Daleham and attended the memorial service, and
sang a hymn, and afterwards enjoyed themselves in the spacious grounds
and on the beach. For though not actually belonging to the rich old
Foster, the beach finished off his estates, and so he had a special sort
of right to it, and had built a boat-house, where he kept a steam launch
and other vessels.
The day came round as usual, and, by rather exceptional luck, Cornwallis
and myself got into the fifty, for nobody was barred, and it was always
arranged that a certain number of chaps from the lower school should
join the giddy throng. So we went in white flannels and the school
blazers, little knowing what lay before us.
The day was slightly clouded by the fact that Brown was the master who
took us, for Brown loves to display his power before strangers, and make
us look as small as possible in order that he may shine. But the great
Mr. Foster--though what he had done that was great I don't know--saw
through Brown with ease, and told him we must do what we liked, and have
a good time in every way--not, in fact, hampered by Brown.
After the service in the chapel, where some good singing was done by us,
and a clergyman preached a rather longish sermon on duty and so on, the
solemn business of the day began, and we had an ample meal. When I tell
you that there were enough raspberries and cream for all, I need add no
more. If all those raspberries had been put in one pile, we should have
had "no small part of a mountain," as Virgil so truly says.
The great thing after dinner was to go and bathe and ramble on the
shore. This was the time that Brown could be most easily escaped, and
as he had to keep his attention on the chaps who went swimming, those
who did not were able to enjoy themselves in various interesting ways.
The tide was out, and, by a little dodging behind rocks, Cornwallis and
me, who did not bathe, were able gradually, as it were, to slip out of
the danger zone; which we did do. A magnificent and interesting beach
spread out before us, and we decided to explore it. So we retreated
fast for some distance till a cliff jutted out and entirely concealed
us, and then we went slower and explored as we went. Cornwallis had a
watch, and as there was no serious work on hand till tea at five
o'clock, we had more than two hours.
We did some natural history, and found small pools full of marine
wonders, such as sea anemones and blenny fish, which in skilled hands
can be made as tame as white mice, and can live out of the sea between
tides. We also collected shells, and, much to my amusement, I collected
one shell which I thought was empty, until I felt a gentle crawling in
my trousers pocket, and discovered that a hermit crab lived in the
shell, and was frantically trying to escape. This, of course, I allowed
him to do, and no doubt he is puzzling to this day about what happened
to upset his usual life.
On we went, and then the beach got narrower, and I said it was natural,
but Cornwallis thought not. He thought the tide was coming in, which
would account for the increasing narrowness of the beach.