Bayard they all liked. His personal deeds of valor appealed to their
young imaginations. His athletic powers especially stirred their hearts
with admiration.
Besides, his exploits took place such a long time ago that they felt
ready to be lenient towards him.
* * * * *
We once came across the name of Louis VI. of France in some French
text, and I was unfortunate enough to mention in class that, at the
battle of Brenneville, an English soldier came up to the French king,
and called upon him to surrender, when Louis VI. remarked: "Don't you
know that, at chess, the king cannot be taken prisoner?" and
immediately struck the English soldier dead on the spot.
The boys seemed displeased. They looked at one another; it was evident
that they thought there was something wrong. The dose was too strong
for them to swallow.
I inquired of a little lad, who appeared particularly distressed, what
was the matter.
"Please, sir," he said, "did not the English soldier try to kill the
French king?"
"Well, I suppose he did," I replied; "but King Louis VI. was very
strong, you know."
"He must have been!" he remarked, no doubt feeling more comfortable
after my explanation.
* * * * *
This historical anecdote of an Englishman allowing himself to be felled
to the ground by a Frenchman puts me in mind of a little conversation I
heard in my school-days.
Two young boys, one French, the other English, were talking athletics
in the playground, and the English boy asked his young friend to
explain to him the principles of French wrestling.
The little French lad proceeded, in a vivacious manner, to describe the
successive moves of the sport.
He used the first person singular to make his description more
forcible.
"First," he said, "I would get a good grasp of your waist with my right
arm, whilst I would collar you with my left one; then, don't you see, I
would twist my right leg round one of yours; then----"
"Ah! but wait a minute," exclaimed the English boy, with a smile. "What
should I be doing all this time? Looking at you, I suppose?"
It was at the meetings of our French Debating Society that free play
was given to youthful patriotism. Good heavens! what a _tabula rasa_
of the map of the world! What fresh jewels added to the British crown!
I don't think there is a single little corner of the globe worth
mentioning that these boys did not lay their hands on. With what a
crushing majority the "Peace, Retrenchment, and Reform" policy was
defeated! Was it not an insult to this glorious country to suggest
that a reform was needed?
"The Liberals," exclaimed a young member, with a movement of Homeric
indignation, "may be appreciated in Russia, but they are not
Englishmen."
* * * * *
French _collegiens_ are red radicals, socialists, anarchists,
revolutionists--until they leave school. As I have said elsewhere,
leading the lives of prisoners, they dream wild dreams of liberty, they
gasp for freedom.
Young Britons, enjoying liberty from tender years, are perfectly
satisfied with their lot, and are mostly Conservatives. They identify
Conservatism with patriotism; and if the Franchise were extended to
them, the Liberal Party would have seen its best days.
The new political school inaugurated by Lord Randolph Churchill is
greatly in favor with English boys; we had many Tory Democrats among
us.
"Imperium et Libertas" are two words which sound pleasantly in young
English ears: the possession of a mighty Empire, and the enjoyment of
that "thrice sweet and gracious goddess," Liberty.
* * * * *
I once asked a little English lad why his compatriots ate roast goose
on the 29th of September, the anniversary of the defeat of the Spanish
Armada.
"Because," he answered proudly, "the King of Spain was such a goose as
to come and attack our navy!"
A colleague of mine asked the same question in a different manner, and
obtained an equally wonderful answer.
"What is it the English eat on the 29th of September to commemorate the
defeat of the Spanish Armada?" he asked.
"Roast duck, sir, because it was Drake who beat the Spanish!"