PLAY
Dinner was over, and play-time begun for all but me, and again I turned
to the _infandum Regina jubes_, and sat me down to cry.
A kind hand, grimed with ink, was laid on my shoulder, a pair of soft
blue eyes looked into my face, and Victor de Rohan, my former
playfellow, my present fast friend and declared "chum," sat down on the
form beside me, and endeavoured to console me in distress.
"I'll help you, Egerton," said the warm-hearted lad; "say it to me;
March is a beast, but Manners is a good fellow; Manners will hear you
now, and we shall have our half-holiday after all."
"I can't, I can't," was my desponding reply. "Manners won't hear me, I
know, till I am perfect, and I never can learn this stupid sing-song
story. How I hate Queen Dido--how I hate Virgil. You should read about
Guenever, Victor, and King Arthur! I'll tell you about them this
afternoon;" and the tears came again into my eyes as I remembered there
was no afternoon for me.
"Try once more," said Victor; "I'll get Manners to hear you; leave it to
me; I know how to do it. I'll ask Ropsley." And Victor was off into
the playground ere I was aware, in search of this valuable auxiliary.
Now, Ropsley was the mainspring round which turned the whole of our
little world at Everdon. If an excuse for a holiday could be found,
Ropsley was entreated to ask the desired favour of March. If a quarrel
had to be adjusted, either in the usual course of ordeal by battle, or
the less decisive method of arbitration, Ropsley was always invited to
see fair play. He was the king of our little community. It was
whispered that he could spar better than Manners, and construe better
than March: he was certainly a more perfect linguist--as indeed I could
vouch for from my own knowledge--than Schwartz, who came twice a week to
teach us a rich German-French. We saw his boots were made by Hoby, and
we felt his coats could only be the work of Stulz, for in those days
Poole was not, and we were perfectly willing to believe that he wore a
scarlet hunting-coat in the Christmas holidays, and had visiting cards
of his own. In person he was tall and slim, with a pale complexion, and
waving, soft brown hair: without being handsome, he was
distinguished-looking; and even as a boy, I have seen strangers turn
round and ask who he was; but the peculiar feature of his countenance
was his light grey eye, veiled with long black eyelashes. It never
seemed to kindle or to waver or to wink; it was always the same, hard,
penetrating, and unmoved; it never smiled, though the rest of his
features would laugh heartily enough, and it certainly never wept. Even
in boyhood it was the eye of a cool, calculating, wary man. He knew the
secrets of every boy in the school, but no one ever dreamt of
cross-questioning Ropsley. We believed he only stayed at Everdon as a
favour to March, who was immensely proud of his pupil's gentlemanlike
manners and appearance, as well as of his scholarly proficiency,
although no one ever saw him study, and we always expected Ropsley was
"going to leave this half." We should not have been the least surprised
to hear he had been sent for by the Sovereign, and created a peer of the
realm on the spot; with all our various opinions, we were unanimous in
one creed--that nothing was impossible for Ropsley, and he need only
try, to succeed. For myself, I was dreadfully afraid of this luminary,
and looked up to him with feelings of veneration which amounted to
positive awe.
Not so Victor; the young Hungarian feared, I believe, nothing on earth,
and _respected_ but little. He was the only boy in the school who,
despite the difference of age, would talk with Ropsley upon equal terms;
and if anything could have added to the admiration with which we
regarded the latter, it would have been the accurate knowledge he
displayed of De Rohan's family, their history, their place in Hungary,
all their belongings, as if he himself had been familiar with Edeldorf
from boyhood. But so it was with everything; Ropsley knew all about
people in general better than they did themselves.
Victor rushed back triumphantly into the schoolroom, where I still sat
desponding at my desk, and Ropsley followed him.
"What's the matter, Vere?" he asked, in a patronising tone, and calling
me by my Christian name, which I esteemed a great compliment. "What's
the matter?" he repeated; "forty lines of Virgil to say; come, that's
not much."
"But I _can't_ learn it," I urged. "You must think me very stupid; and
if it was French, or German, or English, I should not mind twice the
quantity, but I cannot learn Latin, and it's no use trying."
The older boy sneered; it seemed so easy to him with his powerful mind
to get forty lines of hexameters by heart. I believe he could have
repeated the whole _AEneid_ without book from beginning to end.
"Do you want to go out to-day, Vere?" said he.
I clasped my hands in supplication, as I replied, "Oh! I would give
anything, _anything_, to get away from this horrid schoolroom, and
'shirk out' with Victor and Bold."
The latter, be it observed, was a dog in whose society I took great
delight, and whom I kept in the village, at an outlay of one shilling
per week, much to the detriment of my personal fortune.
"Very well," said the great man; "come with me to Manners, and bring
your book with you."
So I followed my deliverer into the playground, with the _infandum
Regina_ still weighing heavily on my soul.
Manners, the usher, was playing cricket with some dozen of the bigger
boys, and was in the act of "going for a sixer." His coat and waistcoat
were off, and his shirt-sleeves tucked up, disclosing his manly arms
bared to the elbow; and Manners was in his glory, for, notwithstanding
the beard upon his chin, our usher was as very a boy at heart as the
youngest urchin in the lower class. A dandy, too, was Manners, and a
wight of an imaginative turn of mind, which chiefly developed itself in
the harmless form of bright visions for the future, teeming with
romantic adventures, of which he was himself to be the hero. His past
he seldom dwelt upon. His aspirations were military--his ideas
extravagant. He was great on the Peninsula and Lord Anglesey at
Waterloo; and had patent boxes in his high-heeled boots that only
required the addition of heavy clanking spurs to complete the illusion
that Mr. Manners ought to be a cavalry officer. Of his riding he spoke
largely; but his proficiency in this exercise we had no means of
ascertaining. There were two things, however, on which Manners prided
himself, and which were a source of intense amusement to the urchins by
whom he was surrounded:--these were, his personal strength, and his
whiskers; the former quality was encouraged to develop itself by earnest
application to all manly sports and exercises; the latter ornaments were
cultivated and enriched with every description of "nutrifier,"
"regenerator," and "unguent" known to the hairdresser or the advertiser.
Alas! without effect proportioned to the perseverance displayed; two
small patches of fluff under the jaw-bones, that showed to greatest
advantage by candlelight, being the only evidence of so much painstaking
and cultivation thrown away. Of his muscular prowess, however, it
behoved us to speak with reverence. Was it not on record in the annals
of the school that when the "King of Naples," our dissipated pieman,
endeavoured to justify by force an act of dishonesty by which he had
done Timmins minor out of half-a-crown, Manners stripped at once to his
shirt-sleeves, and "went in" at the Monarch with all the vigour and
activity of some three-and-twenty summers against three-score? The
Monarch, a truculent old ruffian, with a red neckcloth, half-boots, and
one eye, fought gallantly for a few rounds, and was rather getting the
best of it, when, somewhat unaccountably, he gave in, leaving the usher
master of the field. Ropsley, who gave his friend a knee, _secundum
artem_, and urged him, with frequent injunctions, to "fight high,"
attributed this easy victory to the forbearance of their antagonist, who
had an eye to future trade and mercantile profits; but Manners, whose
account of the battle I have heard more than once, always scouted this
view of the transaction.
"He went down, sir, as if he was shot," he would say, doubling his arm,
and showing the muscles standing out in bold relief. "Few men have the
biceps so well developed as mine, and he went down _as if he was shot_.
If I had hit him as hard as I could, sir, I _must_ have killed him!"
Our usher was a good-natured fellow, notwithstanding.
"I'll hear you in ten minutes, Egerton," said he, "when I have had my
innings;" and forthwith he stretched himself into attitude, and prepared
to strike.
"Better give me your bat," remarked Ropsley, who was too lazy to play
cricket in a regular manner. Of course, Manners consented; nobody ever
refused Ropsley anything; and in ten minutes' time I had repeated the
_infandum Regina_, and Ropsley had added some dozen masterly hits to the
usher's score. Ropsley always liked another man's "innings" better than
his own.
Now the regulations at Everdon, as they were excessively strict, and
based upon the principle that Apollo should always keep the bow at the
utmost degree of tension, so were they eluded upon every available
opportunity, and set at nought and laughed at by the youngest urchins in
the school. We had an ample playground for our minor sports, and a
meadow beyond, in which we were permitted to follow the exhilarating
pastime of cricket, the share of the younger boys in that exciting
amusement being limited to a pursuit of the ball round the field, and a
prompt return of the same to their seniors, doubtless a necessary
ingredient in this noble game, but one which is not calculated to excite
enthusiastic pleasure in the youthful mind. From the playground and its
adjacent meadow it was a capital offence to absent oneself. All the
rest of Somersetshire was "out of bounds"; and to be caught "out of
bounds" was a crime for which corporal punishment was the invariable
reward. At the same time, the offence was, so to speak, "winked at."
No inquiries were made as to how we spent half-holidays between one
o'clock and seven; and many a glorious ramble we used to have during
those precious six hours in all the ecstasy of "freedom,"--a word
understood by none better than the schoolboy. A certain deference was,
however, exacted to the regulations of the establishment; by a sort of
tacit compact, it seemed to be understood that our code was so far
Spartan as to make, not the crime, but the being "found out," a
punishable offence, and boys were always supposed to take their chance.
If seen in the act of escaping, or afterwards met by any of the masters
in the surrounding country, we were liable to be flogged; and to do
March justice, we always _were_ flogged, and pretty soundly, too. Under
these circumstances, some little care and circumspection had to be
observed in starting for our rambles. Certain steps had been made in
the playground wall, where it was hidden from the house by the stem of a
fine old elm, and by dropping quietly down into an orchard beyond--an
orchard, be it observed, of which the fruit was always plucked before it
reached maturity--and then stealing along the back of a thick, high
hedge, we could get fairly away out of sight of the school windows, and
so make our escape.
Now, on the afternoon in question we had planned an expedition in which
Victor, and I, and my dog Bold had determined to be principal
performers. Of the latter personage in the trio I must remark, that no
party of pleasure on which we embarked was ever supposed to be perfect
without his society. His original possessor was the "King of Naples,"
whom I have already mentioned, and who, I conclude, stole him, as he
appeared one day tied to that personage by an old cotton handkerchief,
and looking as wobegone and unhappy as a retriever puppy of some three
months old, torn from his mamma and his brothers and sisters, and the
comfortable kennel in which he was brought up, and transferred to the
tender mercies of a drunken, poaching, dog-stealing ruffian, was likely
to feel in so false a position. The "King" brought him into our
playground on one of his tart-selling visits, as a specimen of the
rarest breed of retrievers known in the West of England. The puppy
seemed so thoroughly miserable, and looked up at me so piteously, that I
forthwith asked his price, and after a deal of haggling, and a
consultation between De Rohan and myself, I determined to become his
purchaser, at the munificent sum of one sovereign, of which ten
shillings (my all) were to be paid on the spot, and the other ten to
remain, so to speak, on mortgage upon the animal, with the further
understanding that he should be kept at the residence of the "King of
Naples," who, in consideration of the regular payment of one shilling
per week, bound himself to feed the same and complete his education in
all the canine branches of plunging, diving, fetching and carrying, on a
system of his own, which he briefly described as "fust-rate."
With a deal of prompting from Manners, I got through my forty lines; and
he shut the book with a good-natured smile as Ropsley threw down the bat
he had been wielding so skilfully, and put on his coat.
"Come and lunch with me at 'The Club,'" said he to Manners, whom he led
completely by the nose; "I'll give you Dutch cheese, and sherry and
soda-water, and a cigar. Hie! Vere, you ungrateful little ruffian,
where are you off to? I want you."
I was making my escape as rapidly as possible at the mention of "The
Club," a word which we younger boys held in utter fear and detestation,
as being associated in our minds with much perilous enterprise and
gratuitous suffering. The Club consisted of an old bent tree in a
retired corner of the playground, on the trunk of which Ropsley had
caused a comfortable seat to be fashioned for his own delectation; and
here, in company with Manners and two or three senior boys, it was his
custom to sit smoking and drinking curious compounds, of which the
ingredients, being contraband, had to be fetched by us, at the risk of
corporal punishment, from the village of Everdon, an honest half-mile
journey at the least.
Ropsley tendered a large cigar to Manners, lit one himself, settled his
long limbs comfortably on the seat, and gave me his orders.
"One Dutch cheese, three pottles of strawberries--now attend, confound
you!--two bottles of old sherry from 'The Greyhound,'--mind, the OLD
sherry; half-a-dozen of soda-water, and a couple of pork-pies. Put the
whole into a basket; they'll give you one at the bar, if you say it's
for me, and tell them to put it down to my account. Put a clean napkin
over the basket, and if you dirty the napkin or break the bottles, I'll
break _your_ head! Now be off! Manners, I'll take your two to one he
does it without a mistake, and is back here under the five-and-twenty
minutes."
I did not dare disobey, but I was horribly disgusted at having to employ
any portion of my half-holiday in so uncongenial a manner. I rushed
back into the schoolroom for my cap, and held a hurried consultation
with Victor as to our future proceedings.
"He only got you off because he wanted you to 'shirk out' for him,"
exclaimed my indignant chum; "it's a shame, _that_ it is. Don't go for
him, Vere; let's get out quietly, and be off to Beverley. It's the last
chance, so old 'Nap' says" (this was an abbreviation for the "King of
Naples," who was in truth a great authority both with Victor and
myself); "and it's _such_ a beautiful afternoon."
"But what a licking I shall get from Ropsley," I interposed, with
considerable misgivings; "he's sure to say I'm an ungrateful little
beast. I don't like to be called ungrateful, Victor, and I don't like
to be called a little beast."
"Oh, never mind the names, and a licking is soon over," replied Victor,
who learned little from his _Horace_ save the _carpe diem_ philosophy,
and who looked upon the licking with considerably more resignation than
did the probable recipient. "We shall just have time to do it, if we
start now. Come on, old fellow; be plucky for once, and come on."
I was not proof against the temptation. The project was a long-planned
one, and I could not bear the thoughts of giving it up now. Many a time
in our rambles had we surmounted the hill that looked down upon Beverley
Manor, and viewed it from afar as a sort of unknown fairyland. What a
golden time one's boyhood was! A day at Beverley was our dream of all
that was most exciting in adventure, most voluptuous in delight; and now
"Nap" had promised to accompany us to this earthly Paradise, and show us
what he was pleased to term its "hins-an'-houts." Not all the cheeses
of Holland should prevent my having one day's liberty and enjoyment. I
weighed well the price: the certain licking, and the sarcastic abuse
which I feared even more; and I think I held my half-holiday all the
dearer for having to purchase it at such a cost.
We were across the playground like lapwings. Ropsley, who was deep in
his cigar and a copy of _Bell's Life_, which forbidden paper he caused
Manners to take in for him surreptitiously, never dreamed that his
behests could be treated with contempt, and hardly turned his head to
look at us. We surmounted the wall with an agility born of repeated
practice; we stole along the adjacent orchard, under covert of the
well-known friendly hedge, and only breathed freely when we found
ourselves completely out of sight of the house, and swinging along the
Everdon lane at a schoolboy's jog, which, like the Highlander's, is
equivalent to any other person's gallop. No pair of carriage horses can
step together like two schoolboy "chums" who are in the constant habit
of being late in company. Little boys as we were, Victor and I could do
our five miles in the hour without much difficulty, keeping step like
clockwork, and talking the whole time.
In five minutes we were at the wicket of a small tumble-down building,
with dilapidated windows and a ruinous thatched roof, which was in fact
the dwelling of no less a personage than the "King of Naples," but was
seldom alluded to by that worthy in more definite terms than "the old
place," or "my shop"; and this only when in a particularly confidential
mood--its existence being usually indicated by a jerk of the head
towards his blind side, which was supposed to infer proper caution, and
a decorous respect for the sanctity of private life. It was indeed one
of those edifices of which the word "tenement" seems alone to convey an
adequate description. The garden produce consisted of a ragged shirt
and a darned pair of worsted stockings, whilst a venerable buck rabbit
looked solemnly out from a hutch on one side of the doorway, and a pair
of red-eyed ferrets shed their fragrance from a rough deal box on the
other. "Nap" himself was not to be seen on a visitor's first entrance
into his habitation, but generally appeared after a mysterious delay,
from certain back settlements, of which one never discovered the exact
"whereabout." A grimy old woman, with her skirts pinned up, was
invariably washing the staircase when we called, and it was only in
obedience to her summons that "Nap" himself could be brought forward.
This dame possessed a superstitious interest in the eyes of us boys, on
account of the mysterious relationship in which she stood to "Nap." He
always addressed her as "mother"--but no boy at Everdon had yet
ascertained whether this was a generic term significant of age and sex,
an appellation of endearment to a spouse, or a tribute of filial
reverence from a son.
"Come, 'Nap,' look alive," halloed Victor, as we rushed up the narrow
path that led from the wicket to the door, in breathless haste not to
lose the precious moments of our half-holiday. "Now, mother, where is
he?" added the lively young truant. "Time's up; 'Nap'--'Nap'!"--and the
walls echoed to Victor's rich, laughing voice, and half-foreign accent.
As usual, after an interval of a few minutes, "Nap" himself appeared at
the back door of the cottage, with a pair of greased half-boots in one
hand, and a ferret, that nestled confidingly against his cheek, in the
other.
"Sarvice, young gen'elmen," said "Nap," wiping his mouth with the back
of his hand--"Sarvice, my lord; sarvice, Muster Egerton," repeated he,
on recognising his two stanchest patrons. "Here, Bold! Bold!--you do
know your master, sure*lie*," as Bold came rollicking forth from the
back-yard in which he lived, and testified his delight by many ungainly
gambols and puppy-like freedoms, which were responded to as warmly by
his delighted owner. My scale of affections at this period of life was
easily defined. I loved three objects in the world--viz., my father,
Victor, and Bold. I verily believe I cared for nothing on earth but
those three; and certainly my dog came in for his share of regard.
Bold, although in all the awkwardness of puppyhood, was already
beginning to show symptoms of that sagacity which afterwards developed
itself into something very few degrees inferior to reason, if indeed it
partook not of that faculty which we men are anxious to assume as solely
our own. He would already obey the slightest sign--would come to heel
at a whisper from his owner or instructor--would drag up huge stones out
of ten feet of water, with ludicrous energy and perseverance; and stand
waiting for further orders with his head on one side, and an expression
of comic intelligence on his handsome countenance that was delightfully
ridiculous. He promised to be of great size and strength; and even at
this period, when he put his forepaws on my shoulders and licked my
face, he was considerably the larger animal of the two. Such
familiarities, however, were much discouraged by "Nap."
"If so be as you would keep a 'dawg,' real sporting and dawg-like,
master," that philosopher would observe, "let un know his distance; I
strikes 'em whenever I can reach 'em. Fondlin' of 'em only spiles
'em--same as women."