Jackanapes
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Juliana Horatio Ewing >> Jackanapes
[Illustration]
It was at the fair that Tony was made ill by riding on Bucephalus.
Once a year the Goose Green became the scene of a carnival. First of
all, carts and caravans were rumbling up all along, day and night.
Jackanapes could hear them as he lay in bed, and could hardly sleep
for speculating what booths and whirligigs he should find fairly
established, when he and his dog Spitfire went out after breakfast. As
a matter of fact, he seldom had to wait long for news of the Fair. The
Postman knew the window out of which Jackanapes' yellow head would
come, and was ready with his report.
"Royal Theayter, Master Jackanapes, in the old place, but be careful
o' them seats, sir; they're rickettier than ever. Two sweets and a
ginger-beer under the oak tree, and the Flying Boats is just a-coming
along the road."
No doubt it was partly because he had already suffered severely in the
Flying Boats, that Tony collapsed so quickly in the giddy-go-round. He
only mounted Bucephalus (who was spotted, and had no tail) because
Jackanapes urged him, and held out the ingenious hope that the
round-and-round feeling would very likely cure the up-and-down
sensation. It did not, however, and Tony tumbled off during the first
revolution.
Jackanapes was not absolutely free from qualms, but having once
mounted the Black Prince he stuck to him as a horseman should. During
the first round he waved his hat, and observed with some concern that
the Black Prince had lost an ear since last Fair; at the second, he
looked a little pale but sat upright, though somewhat unnecessarily
rigid; at the third round he shut his eyes. During the fourth his hat
fell off, and he clasped his horse's neck. By the fifth he had laid
his yellow head against the Black Prince's mane, and so clung anyhow
till the hobby-horses stopped, when the proprietor assisted him to
alight, and he sat down rather suddenly and said he had enjoyed it
very much.
The Grey Goose always ran away at the first approach of the caravans,
and never came back to the Green till there was nothing left of the
Fair but footmarks and oyster-shells. Running away was her pet
principle; the only system, she maintained, by which you can live long
and easily, and lose nothing. If you run away when you see danger, you
can come back when all is safe. Run quickly, return slowly, hold your
head high, and gabble as loud as you can, and you'll preserve the
respect of the Goose Green to a peaceful old age. Why should you
struggle and get hurt, if you can lower your head and swerve, and not
lose a feather? Why in the world should any one spoil the pleasure of
life, or risk his skin, if he can help it?
"'What's the use'
Said the Goose."
Before answering which one might have to consider what world--which
life--whether his skin were a goose-skin; but the Grey Goose's head
would never have held all that.
Grass soon grows over footprints, and the village children took the
oyster-shells to trim their gardens with; but the year after Tony rode
Bucephalus there lingered another relic of Fairtime, in which
Jackanapes was deeply interested. "The Green" proper was originally
only part of a straggling common, which in its turn merged into some
wilder waste land where gipsies sometimes squatted if the authorities
would allow them, especially after the annual Fair. And it was after
the Fair that Jackanapes, out rambling by himself, was knocked over by
the Gipsy's son riding the Gipsy's red-haired pony at break-neck pace
across the common.
Jackanapes got up and shook himself, none the worse, except for being
heels over head in love with the red-haired pony. What a rate he went
at! How he spurned the ground with his nimble feet! How his red coat
shone in the sunshine! And what bright eyes peeped out of his dark
forelock as it was blown by the wind!
The Gipsy boy had had a fright, and he was willing enough to reward
Jackanapes for not having been hurt, by consenting to let him have a
ride.
"Do you mean to kill the little fine gentleman, and swing us all on
the gibbet, you rascal?" screamed the Gipsy-mother, who came up just
as Jackanapes and the pony set off.
"He would get on," replied her son. "It'll not kill him. He'll fall on
his yellow head, and it's as tough as a cocoanut."
But Jackanapes did not fall. He stuck to the red-haired pony as he had
stuck to the hobbyhorse; but oh, how different the delight of this
wild gallop with flesh and blood! Just as his legs were beginning to
feel as if he did not feel them, the Gipsy boy cried "Lollo!" Round
went the pony so unceremoniously, that, with as little ceremony,
Jackanapes clung to his neck, and he did not properly recover himself
before Lollo stopped with a jerk at the place where they had started.
"Is his name Lollo?" asked Jackanapes, his hand lingering in the wiry
mane.
"Yes."
"What does Lollo mean?"
"Red."
"Is Lollo your pony?"
"No. My father's." And the Gipsy boy led Lollo away.
At the first opportunity Jackanapes stole away again to the common.
This time he saw the Gipsy-father, smoking a dirty pipe.
"Lollo is your pony, isn't he?" said Jackanapes.
"Yes."
"He's a very nice one."
"He's a racer."
"You don't want to sell him, do you?"
"Fifteen pounds," said the Gipsy-father; and Jackanapes sighed and
went home again. That very afternoon he and Tony rode the two donkeys,
and Tony managed to get thrown, and even Jackanapes' donkey kicked.
But it was jolting, clumsy work after the elastic swiftness and the
dainty mischief of the red-haired pony.
A few days later Miss Jessamine spoke very seriously to Jackanapes.
She was a good deal agitated as she told him that his grandfather, the
General, was coming to the Green, and that he must be on his very best
behavior during the visit. If it had been feasible to leave off
calling him Jackanapes and to get used to his baptismal name of
Theodore before the day after to-morrow (when the General was due), it
would have been satisfactory. But Miss Jessamine feared it would be
impossible in practice, and she had scruples about it on principle. It
would not seem quite truthful, although she had always most fully
intended that he should be called Theodore when he had outgrown the
ridiculous appropriateness of his nickname. The fact was that he had
not outgrown it, but he must take care to remember who was meant when
his grandfather said Theodore.
Indeed for that matter he must take care all along.
"You are apt to be giddy, Jackanapes," said Miss Jessamine.
"Yes aunt," said Jackanapes, thinking of the hobby-horses.
"You are a good boy, Jackanapes. Thank GOD, I can tell your
grandfather that. An obedient boy, an honorable boy, and a
kind-hearted boy. But you are--in short, you _are_ a Boy, Jackanapes.
And I hope,"--added Miss Jessamine, desperate with the results of
experience--"that the General knows that Boys will be Boys."
What mischief could be foreseen, Jackanapes promised to guard against.
He was to keep his clothes and his hands clean, to look over his
catechism, not to put sticky things in his pockets, to keep that hair
of his smooth--("It's the wind that blows it, Aunty," said
Jackanapes--"I'll send by the coach for some bear's-grease," said Miss
Jessamine, tying a knot in her pocket-handkerchief)--not to burst in
at the parlor door, not to talk at the top of his voice, not to
crumple his Sunday frill, and to sit quite quiet during the sermon, to
be sure to say "sir" to the General, to be careful about rubbing his
shoes on the doormat, and to bring his lesson-books to his aunt at
once that she might iron down the dogs' ears. The General arrived, and
for the first day all went well, except that Jackanapes' hair was as
wild as usual, for the hair-dresser had no bear's-grease left. He
began to feel more at ease with his grandfather, and disposed to talk
confidentially with him, as he did with the Postman. All that the
General felt it would take too long to tell, but the result was the
same. He was disposed to talk confidentially with Jackanapes.
[Illustration]
"Mons'ous pretty place this," he said, looking out of the lattice on
to the Green, where the grass was vivid with sunset, and the shadows
were long and peaceful.
"You should see it in Fair-week, sir," said Jackanapes, shaking his
yellow mop, and leaning back in his one of the two Chippendale
arm-chairs in which they sat.
"A fine time that, eh?" said the General, with a twinkle in his left
eye. (The other was glass.)
Jackanapes shook his hair once more. "I enjoyed this last one the best
of all," he said. "I'd so much money."
"By George, it's not a common complaint in these bad times. How much
had ye?"
"I'd two shillings. A new shilling Aunty gave me, and elevenpence I
had saved up, and a penny from the Postman--_sir_!" added Jackanapes
with a jerk, having forgotten it.
"And how did ye spend it--_sir_?" inquired the General. Jackanapes
spread his ten fingers on the arms of his chair, and shut his eyes
that he might count the more conscientiously.
"Watch-stand for Aunty, threepence. Trumpet for myself, twopence,
that's fivepence. Ginger-nuts for Tony, twopence, and a mug with a
Grenadier on for the Postman, fourpence, that's elevenpence.
Shooting-gallery a penny, that's a shilling. Giddy-go-round, a penny,
that's one and a penny. Treating Tony, one and twopence. Flying Boats
(Tony paid for himself), a penny, one and threepence. Shooting-gallery
again, one and fourpence; Fat Woman a penny, one and fivepence.
Giddy-go-round again, one and sixpence. Shooting-gallery, one and
sevenpence. Treating Tony, and then he wouldn't shoot, so I did, one
and eightpence. Living Skeleton, a penny--no, Tony treated me, the
Living Skeleton doesn't count. Skittles, a penny, one and ninepence.
Mermaid (but when we got inside she was dead), a penny, one and
tenpence. Theatre, a penny (Priscilla Partington, or the Green Lane
Murder. A beautiful young lady, sir, with pink cheeks and a real
pistol), that's one and elevenpence. Ginger beer, a penny (I _was_ so
thirsty!) two shillings. And then the Shooting-gallery man gave me a
turn for nothing, because, he said, I was a real gentleman, and spent
my money like a man."
"So you do, sir, so you do!" cried the General. "Why, sir, you spend
it like a prince.--And now I suppose you've not got a penny in your
pocket?"
"Yes I have," said Jackanapes. "Two pennies. They are saving up." And
Jackanapes jingled them with his hand.
"You don't want money except at fair-times, I suppose?" said the
General.
Jackanapes shook his mop.
"If I could have as much as I want, I should know what to buy," said
he.
"And how much do you want, if you could get it?"
"Wait a minute, sir, till I think what twopence from fifteen pounds
leaves. Two from nothing you can't, but borrow twelve. Two from
twelve, ten, and carry one. Please remember ten, sir, when I ask you.
One from nothing you can't, borrow twenty. One from twenty, nineteen,
and carry one. One from fifteen, fourteen. Fourteen pounds nineteen
and--what did I tell you to remember?"
"Ten," said the General.
"Fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and tenpence then, is what I
want," said Jackanapes.
"Bless my soul, what for?"
"To buy Lollo with. Lollo means red, sir. The Gipsy's red-haired pony,
sir. Oh, he is beautiful! You should see his coat in the sunshine! You
should see his mane! You should see his tail! Such little feet, sir,
and they go like lightning! Such a dear face, too, and eyes like a
mouse! But he's a racer, and the Gipsy wants fifteen pounds for him."
"If he's a racer, you couldn't ride him. Could you?"
"No--o, sir, but I can stick to him. I did the other day."
"You did, did you? Well, I'm fond of riding myself, and if the beast
is as good as you say, he might suit me."
"You're too tall for Lollo, I think," said Jackanapes, measuring his
grandfather with his eye.
"I can double up my legs, I suppose. We'll have a look at him
to-morrow."
"Don't you weigh a good deal?" asked Jackanapes.
"Chiefly waistcoats," said the General, slapping the breast of his
military frock-coat. "We'll have the little racer on the Green the
first thing in the morning. Glad you mentioned it, grandson. Glad you
mentioned it."
The General was as good as his word. Next morning the Gipsy and Lollo,
Miss Jessamine, Jackanapes and his grandfather and his dog Spitfire,
were all gathered at one end of the Green in a group, which so aroused
the innocent curiosity of Mrs. Johnson, as she saw it from one of her
upper windows, that she and the children took their early promenade
rather earlier than usual. The General talked to the Gipsy, and
Jackanapes fondled Lollo's mane, and did not know whether he should be
more glad or miserable if his grandfather bought him.
"Jackanapes!"
"Yes, sir!"
"I've bought Lollo, but I believe you were right. He hardly stands
high enough for me. If you can ride him to the other end of the Green,
I'll give him to you."
How Jackanapes tumbled on to Lollo's back he never knew. He had just
gathered up the reins when the Gipsy-father took him by the arm.
"If you want to make Lollo go fast, my little gentleman--"
"_I_ can make him go!" said Jackanapes, and drawing from his pocket
the trumpet he had bought in the fair, he blew a blast both loud and
shrill.
Away went Lollo, and away went Jackanapes' hat. His golden hair flew
out an aureole from which his cheeks shone red and distended with
trumpeting. Away went Spitfire, mad with the rapture of the race, and
the wind in his silky ears. Away went the geese, the cocks, the hens,
and the whole family of Johnson. Lucy clung to her mamma, Jane saved
Emily by the gathers of her gown, and Tony saved himself by a
somersault.
The Grey Goose was just returning when Jackanapes and Lollo rode back,
Spitfire panting behind.
"Good, my little gentleman, good!" said the Gipsy. "You were born to
the saddle. You've the flat thigh, the strong knee, the wiry back,
and the light caressing hand, all you want is to learn the whisper.
Come here!"
"What was that dirty fellow talking about, grandson?" asked the
General.
"I can't tell you, sir. It's a secret."
They were sitting in the window again, in the two Chippendale
arm-chairs, the General devouring every line of his grandson's face,
with strange spasms crossing his own.
"You must love your aunt very much, Jackanapes?"
"I do, sir," said Jackanapes warmly.
"And whom do you love next best to your aunt?"
The ties of blood were pressing very strongly on the General himself,
and perhaps he thought of Lollo. But Love is not bought in a day, even
with fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and tenpence. Jackanapes
answered quite readily, "The Postman."
"Why the Postman?"
"He knew my father," said Jackanapes, "and he tells me about him, and
about his black mare. My father was a soldier, a brave soldier. He
died at Waterloo. When I grow up I want to be a soldier too."
"So you shall, my boy. So you shall."
"Thank you, grandfather. Aunty doesn't want me to be a soldier for
fear of being killed."
"Bless my life! Would she have you get into a feather-bed and stay
there? Why, you might be killed by a thunderbolt, if you were a
butter-merchant!"
"So I might. I shall tell her so. What a funny fellow you are, sir! I
say, do you think my father knew the Gipsy's secret? The Postman says
he used to whisper to his black mare."
"Your father was taught to ride as a child, by one of those horsemen
of the East who swoop and dart and wheel about a plain like swallows
in autumn. Grandson! Love me a little too. I can tell you more about
your father than the Postman can."
"I do love you," said Jackanapes. "Before you came I was frightened.
I'd no notion you were so nice."
"Love me always, boy, whatever I do or leave undone. And--GOD help
me--whatever you do or leave undone, I'll love you! There shall never be
a cloud between us for a day; no, sir, not for an hour. We're imperfect
enough, all of us, we needn't be so bitter; and life is uncertain enough
at its safest, we needn't waste its opportunities. Look at me! Here sit
I, after a dozen battles and some of the worst climates in the world,
and by yonder lych gate lies your mother, who didn't move five miles, I
suppose, from your aunt's apron-strings,--dead in her teens; my
golden-haired daughter, whom I never saw."
Jackanapes was terribly troubled.
"Don't cry, grandfather," he pleaded, his own blue eyes round with
tears. "I will love you very much, and I will try to be very good. But
I should like to be a soldier."
"You shall, my boy, you shall. You've more claims for a commission
than you know of. Cavalry, I suppose; eh, ye young Jackanapes? Well,
well; if you live to be an honor to your country, this old-heart
shall grow young again with pride for you; and if you die in the
service of your country--GOD bless me, it can but break for ye!"
And beating the region which he said was all waistcoats, as if they
stifled him, the old man got up and strode out on to the Green.
CHAPTER IV.
"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his
life for his friends."--JOHN XV. 13.
Twenty and odd years later the Grey Goose was still alive, and in full
possession of her faculties, such as they were. She lived slowly and
carefully, and she lived long. So did Miss Jessamine; but the General
was dead.
He had lived on the Green for many years, during which he and the
Postman saluted each other with a punctiliousness that it almost
drilled one to witness. He would have completely spoiled Jackanapes if
Miss Jessamine's conscience would have let him; otherwise he somewhat
dragooned his neighbors, and was as positive about parish matters as a
ratepayer about the army. A stormy-tempered, tender-hearted soldier,
irritable with the suffering of wounds of which he never spoke, whom
all the village followed to his grave with tears.
The General's death was a great shock to Miss Jessamine, and her
nephew stayed with her for some little time after the funeral. Then he
was obliged to join his regiment, which was ordered abroad.
One effect of the conquest which the General had gained over the
affections of the village, was a considerable abatement of the popular
prejudice against "the military." Indeed the village was now somewhat
importantly represented in the army. There was the General himself,
and the Postman, and the Black Captain's tablet in the church, and
Jackanapes, and Tony Johnson, and a Trumpeter.
[Illustration]
Tony Johnson had no more natural taste for fighting than for riding,
but he was as devoted as ever to Jackanapes, and that was how it came
about that Mr. Johnson bought him a commission in the same cavalry
regiment that the General's grandson (whose commission had been given
him by the Iron Duke) was in, and that he was quite content to be the
butt of the mess where Jackanapes was the hero; and that when
Jackanapes wrote home to Miss Jessamine, Tony wrote with the same
purpose to his mother; namely, to demand her congratulations that they
were on active service at last, and were ordered to the front. And he
added a postscript to the effect that she could have no idea how
popular Jackanapes was, nor how splendidly he rode the wonderful red
charger whom he had named after his old friend Lollo.
* * * * *
"Sound Retire!"
A Boy Trumpeter, grave with the weight of responsibilities and
accoutrements beyond his years, and stained, so that his own mother
would not have known him, with the sweat and dust of battle, did as he
was bid; and then pushing his trumpet pettishly aside, adjusted his
weary legs for the hundredth time to the horse which was a world too
big for him, and muttering, "'Tain't a pretty tune," tried to see
something of this, his first engagement, before it came to an end.
Being literally in the thick of it, he could hardly have seen less or
known less of what happened in that particular skirmish if he had been
at home in England. For many good reasons; including dust and smoke,
and that what attention he dared distract from his commanding officer
was pretty well absorbed by keeping his hard-mouthed troop-horse in
hand, under pain of execration by his neighbors in the melee.
By-and-by, when the newspapers came out, if he could get a look at one
before it was thumbed to bits, he would learn that the enemy had
appeared from ambush in overwhelming numbers, and that orders had been
given to fall back, which was done slowly and in good order, the men
fighting as they retired.
Born and bred on the Goose Green, the youngest of Mr. Johnson's
gardener's numerous off-spring, the boy had given his family "no
peace" till they let him "go for a soldier" with Master Tony and
Master Jackanapes. They consented at last, with more tears than they
shed when an elder son was sent to jail for poaching, and the boy was
perfectly happy in his life, and full of _esprit de corps_. It was
this which had been wounded by having to sound retreat for "the young
gentlemen's regiment," the first time he served with it before the
enemy, and he was also harassed by having completely lost sight of
Master Tony. There had been some hard fighting before the backward
movement began, and he had caught sight of him once, but not since. On
the other hand, all the pulses of his village pride had been stirred
by one or two visions of Master Jackanapes whirling about on his
wonderful horse. He had been easy to distinguish, since an eccentric
blow had bared his head without hurting it, for his close golden mop
of hair gleamed in the hot sunshine as brightly as the steel of the
sword flashing round it.
Of the missiles that fell pretty thickly, the Boy Trumpeter did not
take much notice. First, one can't attend to everything, and his hands
were full. Secondly, one gets used to anything. Thirdly, experience
soon teaches one, in spite of proverbs, how very few bullets find
their billet. Far more unnerving is the mere suspicion of fear or even
of anxiety in the human mass around you. The Boy was beginning to
wonder if there were any dark reason for the increasing pressure, and
whether they would be allowed to move back more quickly, when the
smoke in front lifted for a moment, and he could see the plain, and
the enemy's line some two hundred yards away.
[Illustration]
And across the plain between them, he saw Master Jackanapes galloping
alone at the top of Lollo's speed, their faces to the enemy, his
golden head at Lollo's ear.
But at this moment noise and smoke seemed to burst out on every side,
the officer shouted to him to sound retire, and between trumpeting and
bumping about on his horse, he saw and heard no more of the incidents
of his first battle.
Tony Johnson was always unlucky with horses, from the days of the
giddy-go-round onwards. On this day--of all days in the year--his own
horse was on the sick list, and he had to ride an inferior,
ill-conditioned beast, and fell off that, at the very moment when it
was a matter of life or death to be able to ride away. The horse fell
on him, but struggled up again, and Tony managed to keep hold of it.
It was in trying to remount that he discovered, by helplessness and
anguish, that one of his legs was crushed and broken, and that no feat
of which he was master would get him into the saddle. Not able even to
stand alone, awkwardly, agonizingly unable to mount his restive horse,
his life was yet so strong within him! And on one side of him rolled
the dust and smoke-cloud of his advancing foe, and on the other, that
which covered his retreating friends.
He turned one piteous gaze after them, with a bitter twinge, not of
reproach, but of loneliness; and then, dragging himself up by the side
of his horse, he turned the other way and drew out his pistol, and
waited for the end. Whether he waited seconds or minutes he never
knew, before some one gripped him by the arm.
"_Jackanapes_! _GOD bless you_! It's my left leg. If you could get me
on--"
It was like Tony's luck that his pistol went off at his horse's tail,
and made it plunge; but Jackanapes threw him across the saddle.
"Hold on anyhow, and stick your spur in. I'll lead him. Keep your head
down, they're firing high."
And Jackanapes laid his head down--to Lollo's ear.
It was when they were fairly off, that a sudden upspringing of the
enemy in all directions had made it necessary to change the gradual
retirement of our force into as rapid a retreat as possible. And when
Jackanapes became aware of this, and felt the lagging and swerving of
Tony's horse, he began to wish he had thrown his friend across his own
saddle, and left their lives to Lollo.
When Tony became aware of it, several things came into his head.
1. That the dangers of their ride for life were now more than doubled.
2. That if Jackanapes and Lollo were not burdened with him they would
undoubtedly escape. 3. That Jackanapes' life was infinitely valuable,
and his--Tony's--was not. 4. That this--if he could seize it--was the
supremest of all the moments in which he had tried to assume the
virtues which Jackanapes had by nature; and that if he could be
courageous and unselfish now--