CHAPTER VIII
A LESSON IN THE AENEID
In those days Stonnington was a very pretty village, and such itcontinued to be until it was ravaged by a railway. With the railway cameall that is hideous and foul, and from it fled all that is comely. Thecattle-shed, called by rail-highwaymen "the Station," with its roof ofiron Pan-pipes and red bull's-eyes stuck on stack-poles, whistles andstares where the grand trees stood and the village green lay sleeping.On the site of the gray-stone grammar school is an "OperativeInstitute," whose front (not so thick as the skin of a young ass) isgayly tattooed with a ringworm of wind-bricks. And the old manor-house,where great authors used to dine, and look out with long pipes throughthe ivy, has been stripped of every shred of leaf, and painted red andyellow, and barge-boarded into "the Temperance Tap."
Ere ever these heathen so furiously raged, there was peace and content,and the pleasure of the eyes, and of neighborly feeling abundance.The men never burst with that bubble of hurry which every man now isinflated with; and the women had time enough to mind one another'saffairs, without which they grow scandalous. And the trees, that keptcompany with the houses, found matter for reflection in their calm bluesmoke, and the green crop that promised a little grove upon the roof.So that as the road went up the hill, the traveller was content to leavehis legs to nature, while his eyes took their leisure of pleasant views,and of just enough people to dwell upon.
At the top of the hill rose the fine old church, and next to it, facingon the road itself, without any kind of fence before it, stood thegrammar school of many generations. This was a long low building, ridgedwith mossy slabs, and ribbed with green, where the drip oozed downthe buttresses. But the long reach of the front was divided by a gableprojecting a little into the broad high-road. And here was the way,beneath a low stone arch, into a porch with oak beams bulging and abell-rope dangling, and thence with an oaken door flung back into thedark arcade of learning.
This was the place to learn things in, with some possibility of keepingthem, and herein lay the wisdom of our ancestors. Could they ever haveknown half as much as they did, and ten times as much as we know, ifthey had let the sun come in to dry it all up, as we do? Will even thefourteen-coated onion root, with its bottom exposed to the sun, or willa clever puppy grow long ears, in the power of strong daylight?
The nature and nurture of solid learning were better understood whenschools were built from which came Shakespeare and Bacon and Raleigh;and the glare of the sun was not let in to baffle the light of theeyes upon the mind. And another consideration is that wherever there islight, boys make a noise, which conduces but little to doctrine; whereasin soft shadow their muscles relax, and their minds become apprehensive.Thus had this ancient grammar school of Stonnington fostered manyscholars, some of whom had written grammars for themselves and theirposterity.
The year being only at the end of March, and the day going on for fiveo'clock, the light was just right, in the long low room, for correctionof manners and for discipline. Two boys had been horsed and brushed upwell, which had strengthened the conscience of all the rest, while sobsand rubs of the part affected diffused a tender silence. Dr. Swinks,the head-master, was leaning back in his canopied oaken chair, with thepride inspired by noble actions.
"What wonderfully good boys!" Dolly whispered, as she peeped in throughthe dark porch with Faith, while her father was giving the horses incharge to the hostler from the inn across the way; "I declare that Ishall be frightened even to look at Mr. Scudamore, if this is a specimenof what he does. There is scarcely a boy looking off his book. Buthow old he does look! I suppose it must be the effect of so much hardteaching."
"You silly thing," her sister answered; "you are looking at the greathead-master. Mr. Scudamore is here at the bottom of the school. Betweenthese big hinges you can see him; and he looks as young as you do."
Miss Dolly, who dearly loved any sly peep, kept her light figure backand the long skirt pulled in, as she brought her bright eyes to the slitbetween the heavy black door and the stone-work. And she speedily gaveher opinion.
"He is nothing but a regular frump. I declare I am dreadfullydisappointed. No wonder the title did not come on! He is nothing but avery soft-natured stupe. Why, the boys can do what they like with him!"
Certainly the scholars of the Virgil class, which Blyth Scudamore wasdealing with, had recovered from the querimonies of those two sons ofOvid, on the further side of Ister, and were having a good laugh at theface of "Captain Scuddy," as they called their beloved preceptor. Forhe, being gifted with a gentle sense of humor, together with a patientlove of the origin of things, was questing in his quiet mind what hadled a boy to render a well-known line as follows: "Such a quantity ofsalt there was, to season the Roman nation." Presently he hit upon theclue to this great mystery. "Mola, the salted cake," he said; "and thenext a little error of conjugation. You have looked out your words,Smith, but chanced upon the wrong ones."
"Oh, Captain Scuddy," cried the head boy, grinning wisely, though hemight have made just the same blunder himself; "after that, do tellus one of your sea-stories. It will strike five in about five minutes.Something about Nelson, and killing ten great Frenchmen."
"Oh, do," cried the other little fellows, crowding round him. "It isever so much better than Virgil, Captain Scuddy!"
"I am not Captain Scuddy, as I tell you every day. I'm afraid I am agreat deal too good-natured with you. I shall have to send a dozen ofyou up to be caned."
"No, you couldn't do that if you tried, Captain Scuddy. But what are youthinking of, all this time? There are two pretty ladies in riding-habitspeeping at you from the bell porch. Why, you have got sweethearts,Captain Scuddy! What a shame of you never to have told us!"
The youngest and fairest of all the boys there could scarcely haveblushed more deeply than their classical tutor did, as he stooped forhis hat, and shyly went between the old desks to the door in the porch.All the boys looked after him with the deepest interest, and madeup their minds to see everything he did. This was not at all what hedesired, and the sense of it increased his hesitation and confusion. Ofthe Admiral's lovely daughters he had heard while in the navy, andnow he was frightened to think that perhaps they were come here toreconnoitre him. But luckily the Admiral was by this time to the fore,and he marched into the school-room and saluted the head-master.
"Dr. Swinks," he said, "I am your very humble servant, Vice-Admiral ofthe Blue, Charles Darling, and beg a thousand pardons for intrusion ondeep learning. But they tell me that your watch is over in some half aminute. Allow me to ask for the son of an old friend, Blyth Scudamore,late of the Diomede frigate, but now of this ancient and learned grammarschool. When his labors are over, I would gladly speak with him."
"Boys may go," the head-master pronounced, as the old clock wheezedinstead of striking. "Sir, my valued young coadjutor is advancing fromthe fourth form toward you."
The Doctor was nice in his choice of words, and prided himself onJohnsonian precision, but his young coadjutor's advance was hardly to bedistinguished from a fine retreat. Like leaves before the wind, theboys rushed out by a back door into the play-ground, while the mastersolemnly passed to his house, with a deep slow bow to the ladies; andthere was poor Scudamore--most diffident of men whenever it came tolady-work--left to face the visitors with a pleasing knowledge that hisneckcloth was dishevelled, and his hair sheafed up, the furrows of hiscoat broadcast with pounce, and one of his hands gone to sleep fromholding a heavy Delphin for three-quarters of an hour.
As he came out thus into the evening light, which dazed his blue eyesfor a moment, Miss Dolly turned away to hide a smile, but Faith, uponher father's introduction, took his hand and looked at him tenderly. Forshe was a very soft-hearted young woman, and the tale of his troublesand goodness to his mother had moved her affection toward him, whileas one who was forever pledged--according to her own ideas--to a herobeyond comparison, she was able to regard young men with mercy, and withpity, if they had none to love. "How hard you
have been at work!" shesaid; "it makes us seem so lazy! But we never can find any good thing todo."
"That's a cut at me," cried the Admiral. "Scudamore, when you come to myage, be wiser than to have any daughters. Sure enough, they find no goodto do; and they not only put all the fault of that on me, but they makeme the victim of all the mischief they invent. Dolly, my darling, wearthat cap if it fits. But you have not shaken hands with Mr. Scudamoreyet. I hope you will do so, some hundreds of times."
"Not all at once, papa; or how thankful he would be! But stop, I havenot got half my glove off; this fur makes them stick so."
Miss Dolly was proud of her hands, and lost few chances of getting themlooked at. Then with a little smile, partly at herself for petulance,partly to him for forgiveness, she offered her soft warm rich whitehand, and looked at him beautifully as he took it. Alack and alas forpoor "Captain Scuddy"!
His eyes, with a quick shy glance, met hers; and hers with soft inquiryanswered, "I wonder what you think of me?" Whenever she met a new face,this was her manner of considering it.
"Scudamore, I shall not allow you any time to think about it," AdmiralDarling broke in suddenly, so that the young man almost jumped."Although you have cut the service for a while, because of our stingypeacefulness, you are sure to come back to us again when England wantsEnglish, not Latin and Greek. I am your commanding officer, and myorders are that you come to us from Saturday till Monday. I shall senda boat--or at least I mean a buggy--to fetch you, as soon as you are offduty, and return you the same way on Monday. Come, girls, 'twill be darkbefore we are home; and since the patrols were withdrawn, I hear there'sa highwayman down this road again. That is one of the blessingsof peace, Scudamore; even as Latin and Greek are. 'Apertis otiaportis'--Open the gates for laziness. Ah, I should have done well at oldWinton, they tell me, if I had not happened to run away to sea."
Springhaven: A Tale of the Great War Page 8