a novel by
lionel birch
philip allan
mcmxxxi
First Edition 1931
printed in great britain by the
camelot press, limited,
london and southampton, and published by
philip allan and co., ltd., at
quality house, great
russell street
london
to
L. C and R. C.
whose kindness to me has been infinite
This book does not purpose to be a 'Public School story' in the accepted sense of that phrase. It is primarily intended as a study of the development, particularly of the emotional development, of a boy, in the usual school surroundings. Those surroundings are therefore only lightly and typically sketched in. And all the characters and all the communities in this book are, therefore, entirely fictitious.
chapter page
in the beginning 6
towers hill 20
the reynardists 49
'strange meeting' 55
'l'amour qui n'ose pas dire son nom' 71
vii. metropolis 80
enchantment 90
this great army 106
the milk train? 120
'l'amitié amoureuse' 128
merrie englande 149
authority 154
cloud-pedestals 167
paris 176
presentiment 187
melodramatics 207
imperium 220
nirvana 235
kindergarten 257
king for a day 268
apex 285
'le temps de mille fleurs' 292
1
together, How and Roreton followed Mr. Lanbury into the study. What, they asked themselves, had they done now. They were not in the habit of drawing pictures in their books; they had not talked after lights-out. But there was, of course, always the chance that a 'Damn' might have slipped out somewhere within hearing of a monitor. They had been reported. Obviously. But still they did not understand.
Mr. Lanbury closed the door with scrupulous care, and turned importantly towards the two.
"Go through to the Fourth Form room," he said. "Mr. Stethens wishes to speak to you."
Mr. Stethens wishes to speak to you!
Now they did understand. So it was true about the author of that idiotic rhyme! The dramatic trait in Roreton's character reacted instantly to the situation.
"Don't look him in the eyes, Phil," he whispered, in the passage. But, once inside the room, they both found that the theatrical element in human nature made them return Mr. Stethens's stare of restrained power with such sturdiness as they could muster. It was the first time that Tony had formulated to himself his inborn repugnance for the extremely masculine type of man – what in after years he came to refer to as 'the hundred per cent. chap.' Mr. Stethens was standing with his hands behind him; and they noticed that, as they came
in, he threw away a cigarette which he had only half smoked.
"Sit down," he said; and Tony felt for a chair and drew it beneath him.
"It is a pity that I have to speak to you on the day before your confirmation," he began.
"But," he went on, after an impressive pause, "I have to speak to you on a matter which I could not, for some time, believe, but which I have at last been compelled to believe."
Again Mr. Stethens paused for a glance out of the window. Then, focusing his stare directly on Tony, he said:
"It has come to my ears that you two are in the habit of kissing each other. Is that so?"
Half defiantly, half innocently, Tony nodded.
"Yes, sir," said Phil.
"Is that so, Roreton?" Mr. Stethens demanded mercilessly.
"Yes," said Tony, and was immediately seized with a desire to burst into tears.
For a few seconds Mr. Stethens considered the top of the greenhouse in the garden. Then:
"Can't you see what a soft, unmanly thing to do it is?" he said. "Do you think, How, that your father would like to see you kissing?"
Phil bit his lip and murmured something about not knowing; and Tony underwent a fleeting and distasteful picture of Colonel How – another of these big strong men that made him feel so uncomfortable.
"Very few fathers kiss their sons after they've gone to school," said Mr. Stethens, "and" – a quiet cough at this point – "and it's not right for two boys like you to kiss each other. Do you see?"
No answer in words reached him.
"I want you to promise me, then," he went on, "that you will never kiss each other again. Will you promise me that?"
The glance which passed between Tony and Phil indicated that they had both determined on the surrender.
Simultaneously: "Yes, sir," said Phil, and, "I promise, sir," said Tony.
"Well, that's all over and done with," said Mr. Stethens judicially; and then, as they got up to go, "Of course," he remarked cheerily, and as if in part compensation, "of course, the last thing I want to do is to stop you being friends."
Once in the passage again: "Did he make you feel an ass, Phil?" asked Tony.
Philip smiled.
"No," he said simply.
But of the two joint Headmasters of this preparatory school how infinitely now he preferred Mr. Lanbury.
2
Just before the dormitory bell rang that night, Mrs. Lanbury appeared in Big School and desired that Roreton should come and see her. Mrs. Lanbury was a metallic woman, afflicted, from youth up, with curiosity and Ideas. She wore grey, masculine ties and blouses that seemed to hanker after being shirts. She had a passion for 'hardiness.' All the masters, her husband included, found her interfering. She positively bullied Mr. Simson.
She carried Tony off with her into the drawing-room; produced a square of Swiss chocolate from a perfectly respectable-looking cupboard; and, with a nod of seductive omniscience, offered it to him. When he had eaten it up, "Run along now, Anthony," she said. "And you understand, don't you, that all that is a shut book?"
"Yes, Mrs. Lanbury."
"Very well, Anthony, and will you ask Philip How to come and see me?"
"Yes, Mrs. Lanbury."
On consideration, Tony decided that all that was more likely to represent his intimacy with Phil than the square of Swiss chocolate. This decision he communicated to Philip, who knocked duly on the drawing-room door; accepted and ate the chocolate; and said:
"Yes, Mrs. Lanbury," when she repeated the mystic formula about the 'shut book.'
The bell rang; the lights were turned down in the big dormitory. As was their custom, Tony and Phil waved good-night to each other across the room. For November, the night was stuffy. Tony was too tired to sleep. At last, full of misery for an injunction which he did not understand, he buried his head in the pillow and wept quietly to himself. He would have liked to have been able to talk it over with Phil. But Phil was asleep. And very painfully it was borne in upon him that, however often now he might feel that inexplicable attraction, he must never again lay his head against Phil's, and listen to Phil's laughter, and his alluring way of pronouncing all his r's as w's. Never again. Why?
He did not understand.
He was fond of Phil, desperately fond of him, just as his mother was fond of him. Because his mother was fond of him she kissed him. Why shouldn't he kiss Phil? He did not understand. It was all rather difficult.
And he remembered the happiness of the last two terms; and marvelled at the sufficiency of Phil and himself. And he wondered why Phil, who had once been the hero-athlete of the school, had lost all his popularity as their acquaintanceship had grown; and why anyone should have lacked understanding in such a degree that
they could write such a rhyme as that; and why he could not explain all this to Phil's mother, whom he had only seen four times, but whom he loved almost more than his own mother. And finally he wondered why he must never again toy with the exciting word 'love.' And a little drowsily he explained to himself that it was because he had made some promise to Mr. Stethens, who had said that it was a soft thing to do.
Why soft? He did not understand.
(But Mr. Stethens said it was unmanly; and Mr. Stethens was the manliest of men.)
And then he remembered that he was to be confirmed on the morrow. And the heavens of sorrow and great weariness round and over him; and very secretly he cried himself to sleep.