On this day the Captain of Eton appears in a dress as martial8 as his title: indeed, each sixth-form boy represents in his uniform, though not perhaps according to the exact rules of the Horse Guards, an officer of the army. One is a marshal, another an ensign. There is a lieutenant9, too; and the remainder are sergeants10. Each of those who are intrusted with these ephemeral commissions has one or more attendants, the number of these varying according to his rank. These servitors are selected according to the wishes of the several members of the sixth form, out of the ranks of the lower boys, that is, those boys who are below the fifth form; and all these attendants are arrayed in a variety of fancy dresses. The Captain of the Oppidans and the senior Colleger next to the Captain of the school, figure also in fancy costume, and are called ‘Saltbearers.’ It is their business, together with the twelve senior Collegers of the fifth form, who are called ‘Runners,’ and whose costume is also determined11 by the taste of the wearers, to levy12 the contributions. And all the Oppidans of the fifth form, among whom ranked Coningsby, class as ‘Corporals;’ and are severally followed by one or more lower boys, who are denominated ‘Polemen,’ but who appear in their ordinary dress.
It was a fine, bright morning; the bells of Eton and Windsor rang merrily; everybody was astir, and every moment some gay equipage drove into the town. Gaily13 clustering in the thronged14 precincts of the College, might be observed many a glistening15 form: airy Greek or sumptuous16 Ottoman, heroes of the Holy Sepulchre, Spanish Hidalgos who had fought at Pavia, Highland17 Chiefs who had charged at Culloden, gay in the tartan of Prince Charlie. The Long Walk was full of busy groups in scarlet18 coats or fanciful uniforms; some in earnest conversation, some criticising the arriving guests; others encircling some magnificent hero, who astounded19 them with his slashed20 doublet or flowing plume21.
A knot of boys, sitting on the Long Walk wall, with their feet swinging in the air, watched the arriving guests of the Provost.
‘I say, Townshend,’ said one, ‘there’s Grobbleton; he was a bully22. I wonder if that’s his wife? Who’s this? The Duke of Agincourt. He wasn’t an Eton fellow? Yes, he was. He was called Poictiers then. Oh! ah! his name is in the upper school, very large, under Charles Fox. I say, Townshend, did you see Saville’s turban? What was it made of? He says his mother brought it from Grand Cairo. Didn’t he just look like the Saracen’s Head? Here are some Dons. That’s Hallam! We’ll give him a cheer. I say, Townshend, look at this fellow. He doesn’t think small beer of himself. I wonder who he is? The Duke of Wellington’s valet come to say his master is engaged. Oh! by Jove, he heard you! I wonder if the Duke will come? Won’t we give him a cheer!’
‘By Jove! who is this?’ exclaimed Townshend, and he jumped from the wall, and, followed by his companions, rushed towards the road.
Two britskas, each drawn23 by four grey horses of mettle24, and each accompanied by outriders as well mounted, were advancing at a rapid pace along the road that leads from Slough25 to the College. But they were destined26 to an irresistible27 check. About fifty yards before they had reached the gate that leads into Weston’s Yard, a ruthless but splendid Albanian, in crimson28 and gold embroidered29 jacket, and snowy camise, started forward, and holding out his silver-sheathed yataghan commanded the postilions to stop. A Peruvian Inca on the other side of the road gave a simultaneous command, and would infallibly have transfixed the outriders with an arrow from his unerring bow, had they for an instant hesitated. The Albanian Chief then advanced to the door of the carriage, which he opened, and in a tone of great courtesy, announced that he was under the necessity of troubling its inmates30 for ‘salt.’ There was no delay. The Lord of the equipage, with the amiable31 condescension32 of a ‘grand monarque,’ expressed his hope that the collection would be an ample one, and as an old Etonian, placed in the hands of the Albanian his contribution, a magnificent purse, furnished for the occasion, and heavy with gold.
‘Don’t be alarmed, ladies,’ said a very handsome young officer, laughing, and taking off his cocked hat.
‘Ah!’ exclaimed one of the ladies, turning at the voice, and starting a little. ‘Ah! it is Mr. Coningsby.’
Lord Eskdale paid the salt for the next carriage. ‘Do they come down pretty stiff?’ he inquired, and then, pulling forth33 a roll of bank-notes from the pocket of his pea-jacket, he wished them good morning.
The courtly Provost, then the benignant Goodall, a man who, though his experience of life was confined to the colleges in which he had passed his days, was naturally gifted with the rarest of all endowments, the talent of reception; and whose happy bearing and gracious manner, a smile ever in his eye and a lively word ever on his lip, must be recalled by all with pleasant recollections, welcomed Lord Monmouth and his friends to an assemblage of the noble, the beautiful, and the celebrated gathered together in rooms not unworthy of them, as you looked upon their interesting walls, breathing with the portraits of the heroes whom Eton boasts, from Wotton to Wellesley. Music sounded in the quadrangle of the College, in which the boys were already quickly assembling. The Duke of Wellington had arrived, and the boys were cheering a hero, who was an Eton field-marshal. From an oriel window in one of the Provost’s rooms, Lord Monmouth, surrounded by every circumstance that could make life delightful34, watched with some intentness the scene in the quadrangle beneath.
‘I would give his fame,’ said Lord Monmouth, ‘if I had it, and my wealth, to be sixteen.’
Five hundred of the youth of England, sparkling with health, high spirits, and fancy dresses, were now assembled in the quadrangle. They formed into rank, and headed by a band of the Guards, thrice they marched round the court. Then quitting the College, they commenced their progress ‘ad Montem.’ It was a brilliant spectacle to see them defiling35 through the playing fields, those bowery meads; the river sparkling in the sun, the castled heights of Windsor, their glorious landscape; behind them, the pinnacles36 of their College.
The road from Eton to Salt Hill was clogged37 with carriages; the broad fields as far as eye could range were covered with human beings. Amid the burst of martial music and the shouts of the multitude, the band of heroes, as if they were marching from Athens, or Thebes, or Sparta, to some heroic deed, encircled the mount; the ensign reaches its summit, and then, amid a deafening38 cry of ‘Floreat Etona!’ he unfurls, and thrice waves the consecrated39 standard.
‘Lord Monmouth,’ said Mr. Rigby to Coningsby, ‘wishes that you should beg your friends to dine with him. Of course you will ask Lord Henry and your friend Sir Charles Buckhurst; and is there any one else that you would like to invite?’
‘Why, there is Vere,’ said Coningsby, hesitating, ‘and—’
‘Vere! What Lord Vere?’ said Rigby. ‘Hum! He is one of your friends, is he? His father has done a great deal of mischief40, but still he is Lord Vere. Well, of course, you can invite Vere.’
‘There is another fellow I should like to ask very much,’ said Coningsby, ‘if Lord Monmouth would not think I was asking too many.’
‘Never fear that; he sent me particularly to tell you to invite as many as you liked.’
‘Well, then, I should like to ask Millbank.’
‘Millbank!’ said Mr. Rigby, a little excited, and then he added, ‘Is that a son of Lady Albinia Millbank?’
‘No; his mother is not a Lady Albinia, but he is a great friend of mine. His father is a Lancashire manufacturer.’
‘By no means,’ exclaimed Mr. Rigby, quite agitated41. ‘There is nothing in the world that Lord Monmouth dislikes so much as Manchester manufacturers, and particularly if they bear the name of Millbank. It must not be thought of, my dear Harry42. I hope you have not spoken to the young man on the subject. I assure you it is out of the question. It would make Lord Monmouth quite ill. It would spoil everything, quite upset him.’
It was, of course, impossible for Coningsby to urge his wishes against such representations. He was disappointed, rather amazed; but Madame Colonna having sent for him to introduce her to some of the scenes and details of Eton life, his vexation was soon absorbed in the pride of acting44 in the face of his companions as the cavalier of a beautiful lady, and becoming the cicerone of the most brilliant party that had attended Montem. He presented his friends, too, to Lord Monmouth, who gave them a cordial invitation to dine with him at his hotel at Windsor, which they warmly accepted. Buckhurst delighted the Marquess by his reckless genius. Even Lucretia deigned45 to appear amused; especially when, on visiting the upper school, the name of CARDIFF, the title Lord Monmouth bore in his youthful days, was pointed43 out to her by Coningsby, cut with his grandfather’s own knife on the classic panels of that memorable46 wall in which scarcely a name that has flourished in our history, since the commencement of the eighteenth century, may not be observed with curious admiration47.
It was the humour of Lord Monmouth that the boys should be entertained with the most various and delicious banquet that luxury could devise or money could command. For some days beforehand orders had been given for the preparation of this festival. Our friends did full justice to their Lucullus; Buckhurst especially, who gave his opinion on the most refined dishes with all the intrepidity48 of saucy49 ignorance, and occasionally shook his head over a glass of Hermitage or C?te R?tie with a dissatisfaction which a satiated Sybarite could not have exceeded. Considering all things, Coningsby and his friends exhibited a great deal of self-command; but they were gay, even to the verge50 of frolic. But then the occasion justified51 it, as much as their youth. All were in high spirits. Madame Colonna declared that she had met nothing in England equal to Montem; that it was a Protestant Carnival52; and that its only fault was that it did not last forty days. The Prince himself was all animation53, and took wine with every one of the Etonians several times. All went on flowingly until Mr. Rigby contradicted Buckhurst on some point of Eton discipline, which Buckhurst would not stand. He rallied Mr. Rigby roundly, and Coningsby, full of champagne54, and owing Rigby several years of contradiction, followed up the assault. Lord Monmouth, who liked a butt55, and had a weakness for boisterous56 gaiety, slily encouraged the boys, till Rigby began to lose his temper and get noisy.
The lads had the best of it; they said a great many funny things, and delivered themselves of several sharp retorts; whereas there was something ridiculous in Rigby putting forth his ‘slashing’ talents against such younkers. However, he brought the infliction57 on himself by his strange habit of deciding on subjects of which he knew nothing, and of always contradicting persons on the very subjects of which they were necessarily masters.
To see Rigby baited was more amusement to Lord Monmouth even than Montem. Lucian Gay, however, when the affair was getting troublesome, came forward as a diversion. He sang an extemporaneous58 song on the ceremony of the day, and introduced the names of all the guests at the dinner, and of a great many other persons besides. This was capital! The boys were in raptures59, but when the singer threw forth a verse about Dr. Keate, the applause became uproarious.
‘Good-bye, my dear Harry,’ said Lord Monmouth, when he bade his grandson farewell. ‘I am going abroad again; I cannot remain in this Radical-ridden country. Remember, though I am away, Monmouth House is your home, at least so long as it belongs to me. I understand my tailor has turned Liberal, and is going to stand for one of the metropolitan60 districts, a friend of Lord Durham; perhaps I shall find him in it when I return. I fear there are evil days for the NEW GENERATION!’
END OF BOOK I.
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1
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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tenure
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| n.终身职位；任期；(土地)保有权，保有期 | |
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domains
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| n.范围( domain的名词复数 )；领域；版图；地产 | |
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derives
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| v.得到( derive的第三人称单数 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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sergeants
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| 警官( sergeant的名词复数 )； （美国警察）警佐； （英国警察）巡佐； 陆军（或空军）中士 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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levy
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| n.征收税或其他款项，征收额 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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defiling
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| v.玷污( defile的现在分词 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
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pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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intrepidity
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| n.大胆，刚勇；大胆的行为 | |
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saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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infliction
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| n.（强加于人身的）痛苦，刑罚 | |
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extemporaneous
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| adj.即席的，一时的 | |
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raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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