Alfred Drayson - The Gentleman Cadet

My father was a perfect gentleman, in the full meaning of the word. He was most sensitive himself, and, believing all those with whom he associated to be equally gifted, he was most careful and considerate in all he said or did. With him it was little short of a crime to say or do anything that could by any chance hurt the feelings of even an acquaintance. I remember once hearing an anecdote related about my father, which may show how great was the belief at least of his sympathies with others. A guest at his dinner-table, on one occasion, upset by accident a glass of sherry on the table-cloth. The visitor apologised for his awkwardness, in most humble terms, blushed deeply, and again commenced a second apology. My father tried to place the guest at his ease, but, noticing how uncomfortable he appeared, my father (it was said, purposely) upset his own glass of wine, at which he laughed immoderately, and was joined by all at table, the result being that no further apologies were offered or awkwardness exhibited by the clumsy guest.

My father’s pet hobby was Natural History. He had a splendid collection of all the moths and butterflies to be found in England. It was a great treat for me to walk with him under the wide-spreading arms of the giant beech-trees or grand old oaks that grew around us, and watch him select the grub or cocoon of some insect that would have escaped the attention of common eyes, and hear him describe the changes through which this creature passed in its material career.

Many are the happy hours that I have passed with him watching the gambols of the squirrel, or, with a pair of powerful opera glasses, scrutinising the detail labours of various birds as they built their nests. The peculiar habits of various birds and insects were well known to me long before some of them were made known to the reading world by those gentlemen whose books on natural history were written from their experience gained in the library of the British Museum.

Long before naturalists had begun to speculate on the cause of that peculiar drumming noise made by the snipe when on the wing, my father and I had convinced ourselves that it was due to the bird spreading open the pinion feathers as it stooped in its flight. The New Forest was especially suited for the residence of a naturalist, as in it were many rare birds and insects, and the opportunities for watching the habits of these were frequent.

About my future course in life my father never spoke; he seemed disposed to let matters drift on; and I believe his wish was that I never should leave home for the purpose of taking up a profession, but that at his death I should still continue the quiet, peaceful life that we had hitherto led in the forest.

It is possible that I might have continued contented as a mere forest boy with country tastes, somewhat feeble powers, and what may be termed a wasted life, had I not by chance met an individual who in one short day turned the whole current of my thoughts into a new channel, and raised in my mind longings and wishes to which I had hitherto been a stranger. As my whole future life turned at this point I must devote a new chapter to a description of my meeting with this person.

I was in the habit of taking long walks, accompanied by my dog, through the forest and over those wastes of moorland which are to be found in various parts of Hampshire. Whilst thus wandering one day, I saw on a prominent knoll, from which an extensive view could be obtained of the surrounding country, two men, one of whom had on a red uniform. My life had been passed so entirely in the wilds of the forest that I had never before seen a soldier, and my curiosity was at once excited by this red-coat, and I consequently made my way towards him, intending to examine him as I would a new specimen of natural history.

On coming near the two persons I saw at once that the one in civilian dress was a gentleman. To me he looked old, but I afterwards found out he was only twenty-four; but a man of twenty-four is old to a boy of fourteen. This gentleman was busily occupied with a strange-looking instrument, which seemed made partly of brass and partly of wood. It stood on three legs, which were separated so as to form a pyramid, and on the apex of this was the brass apparatus referred to. I had approached to within about twenty yards of this instrument when the gentleman ceased looking at it, and, turning towards me, said, “Now, young fellow, mind you don’t get shot.”

“I beg pardon,” I said, “I didn’t know you were going to fire.” And as I said so I saw that what appeared rather like a tube was pointing towards me.

“If you get shot it will be your own fault,” said the gentleman; “so don’t expect me to be responsible. Don’t you see the muzzle is pointing at you?”

I slipped round very quickly, so as to place myself, as I supposed, behind the gun, but, in a moment, round went the instrument with a touch of the gentleman’s finger, and again the tube pointed at me.

“There you are again, right in the way,” said the stranger. “If you are not shot it’s a marvel to me.”

Seeing a smile on the face of the soldier, I began to suspect that I was being made fun of, so I said, “I don’t believe that is a gun.”

“Not a gun? Why, what a disbelieving young Jew you are?”

“I’m not a Jew,” I replied indignantly. “I’m a gentleman.”

“That’s good,” exclaimed the stranger, with a laugh. “Then you mean to assert that a Jew can’t be a gentleman? You’d better mind what you’re saying, sir, for I’m a Jew.”

I looked at him with surprise, for I had my own idea of what a Jew was on account of a Jew pedlar coming to our lodge twice a year with a pack of all sorts of odds and ends to sell; and certainly, as I looked at the tall, handsome-looking stranger, I saw no similarity between him and the pedlar. I had lived hitherto in a most matter-of-fact world, where such a thing as a joke was rare, and what is termed “chaff” was unknown, so I did not understand the meaning of these remarks, and certainly felt no inclination to smile.

“Do you live in these parts?” asked the stranger.

“Yes,” I replied. “Do you know the forest well?”

“Every part of it.”

“Now come here,” said the stranger. “Do you see those tall pines – those on that hill?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what is the name of that place?”

“That’s Castle Malwood.”

“Castle Malwood; and it’s well known about here by that name?”

“Yes, of course it is.”

“If I were to ask one of these chawbacon foresters to show me where Castle Malwood was, he would point out that place, eh?”

“Yes; every forester knows that.”

“How about the name of that house down there with the yew-trees round it?”

“That’s Blackthorn Lodge, where I live.”

“Oh, that’s your house, is it? And what’s your governor?”

“A gentleman.”

“I suppose you are home for the midsummer holidays?”

“No; I don’t go to school.”

“Tutor at home, I suppose?”

“No.”

“Who teaches you, then?”

“Aunt did, and now my father does.”

“And what are you going to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“You ought to be a cadet, and join the Engineers.”

I made no reply to this; for I had never thought of any career in the future, and had never had any ideas beyond our quiet forest home, so I was not prepared with any remark.

“How do you amuse yourself here?” said the stranger. “Rather a dull place, I fancy.”

“I watch the birds and insects, and study natural history,” I replied.

“You are fond of that, are you? You should have been with me in Africa, then, where you could have watched a herd of wild elephants, or seen a lion stalk a buck, or a gigantic snake kill a bustard: that’s the place for a naturalist.”