HOME, SWEET HOME!--BOYS' OPINION OF THE SEASIDE.--FRENCH AND ENGLISH
BEACHES.--WHO IS HE AT HOME? WHAT WAS HIS GRANDFATHER?--REMARKS ON
SWAGGERING.--"I THOUGHT HE WAS A GENTLEMAN."
I should like to echo the sentiments of many schoolboys on the subject
of the place chosen by their parents for their Midsummer holidays.
As a rule, parents think themselves in duty-bound to take their boys to
the seaside for these holidays.
In the case of people occupying "desirable" residences in London, this
is sensible enough.
But boys who live in the country generally regret to hear that they
will not be allowed to spend most of the holiday-time at home, in the
midst of all their own belongings. They would prefer building houses
for their rabbits, enjoying the favorite walks of their childhood;
rowing on the neighboring river with their friends, even if they have
to put up, in the evening, with the inconvenience of having to hear
their sisters play the piano--a kind of inconvenience to which we are
all subject nowadays.
But no; they are packed off to lodgings at the seaside; and they think
that the sight of the sea and a few fishing-boats do not make up for
rickety chairs, springless sofas, empty rooms, cheerless walls, beds
stuffed with pebbles from the beach, and the loss of all home comforts
and associations.
* * * * *
If, as is the case in France, these boys were allowed to mix with those
they meet on the beach, and get up parties with them, life might be
made supportable; but, obliged as they are to keep to themselves, or to
the company of their brothers and sisters (some have none), they think
it was not necessary to come so far in search of boredom.
* * * * *
French and English beaches illustrate best to my mind the way in which
the two nations take their pleasures.
The French seem to set out for their holiday with a thorough
determination to enjoy themselves. When they go to the seaside they go
there on pleasure bound.
On French beaches every body makes acquaintance; the children play
together under the eyes of happy papas and mammas, the grown-up ones go
out in large parties bathing, boating, and fishing; and in the evening
all meet at the Casino, where there are ball-rooms, concert-rooms,
reading and smoking rooms, etc. No doubt many of the people you mix
with there are not such as you would wish to invite to your house on a
visit, but, the season over, these friends of a day are forgotten, and
there remains the benefit to health and spirits from a thorough merry
time.
In the English seaside resort, every bather looks askance at his
fellow.
"Who is he at home?" or "What was his grandfather?" are questions that
he must get satisfactorily answered before he associates with him; and
rather than run the risk of frequenting the company of persons of
inferior blood he is often bored to death with the monotony of the
life, and is glad when it is time to take the children back to school
or his own occupations call him away from the sea.
Dear British parents, if you have a garden and fields near your house,
and you would like to make your boys happy, call them home for the
holidays.
* * * * *
Apart from the aristocracy, it has always been a subject of wonder to
me that caste should be so strong among the middle classes, in a
country like England, who owes her greatness to her commercial and
adventurous spirit.
In France, what is required of a _gentleman_ is high education and
refined manners. A peasant's son possessing these is received in any
society.
In England, boys begin swaggering about their social position as soon
as they leave the nursery, and if you would have some fun, you should
follow groups of public school-boys in the playground or on their way
home.
Of course, in public schools, the occupation of parents cannot be an
objection to their sons' admission, and in your class-room you may have
dukes' and saloon-keepers' sons sitting on the same form. These are
treated on an equal footing; although I believe the head-master of a
working public school would prefer the hangman's son, if a clever lad,
to the son of a duke, if he were a fool.
Yes, those groups will afford you a great deal of amusement.
Here are the sons of professional men, of officers, clergymen,
barristers. See them pointing out other boys passing: "Sons of
merchants, don't you know!"
These are not without their revenge, as they look at a group close by:
"Sons of clerks, you know!"
But you should see the contemptuous glance of the latter as they pass
the sons of shopkeepers: "Tradespeople's sons, I believe!"
* * * * *
Here is a little sample conversation I caught as I passed two boys
watching a game of cricket in the playground.
"Clever chap, So-and-So!" said one.
"And a nice fellow too, isn't he?" said the other.
"By-the-bye, did you know his father was a chemist?"
"A chemist! No!" exclaimed the dear boy in a subdued tone, as if the
news had taken his breath away. "A chemist! you don't mean to say so.
What mistakes we are liable to make, to be sure! I always thought he
was a gentleman."