Part 11 (1/2)
”And I am one of them,” said Mansell. ”I've had a d.a.m.ned good term so far, and next term, when I get that big study, I shall have a still finer time. School may be bad as a moral training, but I live to enjoy myself. Here's to the Public School system. Long may it live!”
Betteridge smiled rather sadly; he was not an athlete.
The summer exams turned out a lamentably dull affair. Claremont superintended the Sh.e.l.l and the Lower Fifth. Anyone who wished to crib could have done so easily. But hardly anyone took the trouble. Mansell swore he would stay where he was. Ruddock, Johnstone and the other old stagers were all of the same opinion. Gordon had determined to get high enough for a promotion, but no higher; tenth would do; and it was easy to get up there. The small boys in the front bench were all Balliol scholars in embryo; it would not pay them to crib. The great law of expediency overhung all proceedings. The result was that they were as lifeless and dull as most other virtuous things.
There were, however, a few bright incidents, the foremost of which was the Divinity exam. Claremont, we know, was a parson and a lover of poetry, and that term the form had been reading Judges and Samuel and Kings. As the Divinity exam. came first, it would be wise to put the old man in a good temper. Ruddock introduced Mr ffoakes Jackson's work on the Old Testament disguised as a writing-pad.
There is nothing easier than to write down correct answers to one-word questions, if you have the answer-book in front of you. Ruddock's writing-pad pa.s.sed slowly round the back and centre benches. Next day the result was announced.
”Well,” said Claremont, ”I must own that I was agreeably surprised by the results of the Divinity papers. The lowest mark was seventy-nine out of a hundred, and that was Kennedy.” (Kennedy was invariably top in the week's order.) ”Ruddock did a really remarkable paper, and scored a hundred out of a hundred. Johnstone and Caruthers both got ninety-nine, and several others were in the nineties. In fact, the only ones in the eighties were those who usually excel. I have taken the form now for over thirty years, and this is quite unparalleled. I shall ask the Headmaster if a special prize cannot be given to Johnstone. He certainly deserves one.”
But the Chief was very wise. As he glanced down the mark list he realised that Johnstone's marks could hardly be due to honest work. But the Chief was also very tactful. He thought, on the whole, that in case of such general merit it would be invidious to single any individual out for special distinction, and, of course, he could not give prizes to everyone. He would, however, most certainly mention the fact at prize-giving. When he did, the applause was strangely mingled with laughter.
But this was only one incident in many dull hours. As a whole, the week's exam. failed to provide much to look back on afterwards with any satisfaction. Even the Chemistry exam. fell flat. FitzMorris picked up a copy of the paper on Jenks's desk and took a copy of it. The marks here also were above the average.
It is inevitable that the end of the summer term should be overhung with an atmosphere of sadness. When the new September term opens there are many faces that will be missing; the giants of yester-year will have departed; another generation will have taken their places. But for all that these last days are not without their own particular glory. Rome must have been very wonderful during the last week of Sulla's consuls.h.i.+p. And in the pa.s.sing of Meredith there was something essentially splendid; for it happens so seldom in life that the culminating point of our success coincides with the finish of anything.
We are continually being mocked by the horror of the second best. We do not know where to stop; we cling too long to our laurels; and when the end finally comes they have begun to wither. Death is an anti-climax.
The heart that once loved, and was as gra.s.s before the winds of pa.s.sion, has grown cold amid a world of commonplace. But at school there is no dragging out of triumphs. All too soon the six short years fly past, and we stand on the threshold of life in the very flush of our pride. ”Just once in a while we may finish in style.” It is not often; the roses fade.
The final of the Senior House matches was drawing to a close on the last Friday of the term. Buller's were beating the School House L-Z easily.
There had never been any doubt about the result. L-Z was entirely a one-man side, that Meredith had managed to carry it on his shoulders through the two first rounds.
The House had only two wickets in hand, and still wanted over eighty runs to avoid an innings' defeat. But Meredith was still in. It had been a great innings. He had gone in first with Mansell, and watched wicket after wicket fall, while he had gone on playing the same brilliant game.
Every stroke was the signal of a roar from the pavilion. The whole House was looking on. It was a fitting end to a dazzling career. It was like his life, reckless and magnificent. At last he mis-hit a half-volley and was caught in the deep for seventy-two.
As he left the wicket the whole House surged forward in front of the pavilion, and formed up in two lines, leaving a gangway. Amid tremendous applause Meredith ran between them. The cheering was deafening.
After prayers that night the Chief said a few words about the match.
”I am sorry we did not win; but, then, I don't think many of us dared to hope for that. At any rate, we were not disgraced, and I wish to take the opportunity of congratulating Meredith, not only on his superb innings this afternoon, but also on his keen and energetic captaincy throughout the term.”
This was the signal for another demonstration. Everyone beat with their fists upon their table. It was a great scene.
The giants of our youth always appear to us much greater than those of any successive era. In future years Gordon was to see other captains of football, other captains of cricket, but with the exception of the tremendous Lovelace, Meredith towered above them all. He was at that moment the very great G.o.d of Gordon's soul. He seemed to be all that Gordon wished to be, brilliant and successful. Surely the fates had showered on him all their gifts.
On the last Monday there was a huge feed in the games study. Over twenty people were crowded in. Armour was there, Mansell, Gordon, Simonds, Foster, Ferguson, everyone except Clarke. There was no one who was not sorry to lose Meredith; his achievements so dazzled them that they could see nothing beyond them. They were proud to have such a man in the house. It was all sheer happiness.
Somehow on the last day the following notice appeared on the House board:--
In Memoriam MALEVUS SCHOLARUM In hadibus requiescat Quod non sine ignominia militavit
No one knew who was responsible for it. Clarke looked at it for a second and turned away with a face that expressed no emotion.
By the Sixth Form green Simonds was shouting across to Meredith: