John Bull, Junior: or, French as She is Traduced. O'Rell Max
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Have spent a charming week at the Vicarage – a lovely country-house, where for the first time I have seen what real English life is.
I have spoken to my English friend of my prospects, and he expresses his wonder that I do not make use of the letters of recommendation that I possess, as they would be sure to secure a good position for me.
"Are not important posts given by examination in this country?" I exclaimed.
But he informs me that such is not the case; that these posts are given, at elections, to the candidates who are bearers of the best testimonials.
The information is most valuable, and I will act upon my friend's advice.
My visit has been as pleasant as it has been useful.
A vacancy occurred lately in one of the great public schools. I sent in my application, accompanied by my testimonials.
Have just received an official intimation that I am elected head-master of the French school at St. Paul's.
One piece of good luck never comes alone.
I am again appointed London correspondent to one of the principal Paris papers.
Allons, me voilà sauvé!
III
I Make the Acquaintance of Public School Boys. – "When I Was a Little Boy." – An Awful Moment. – A Simple Theory. – I Score a Success.
I am not quite sure that the best qualification for a school-master is to have been a very good boy.
I never had great admiration for very good boys. I always suspected, when they were too good, that there was something wrong.
When I was at school, and my master would go in for the recitation of the litany of all the qualities and virtues he possessed when a boy – how good, how dutiful, how obedient, how industrious he was – I would stare at him, and think to myself: How glad that man must be he is no longer a boy!
"No, my dear little fellows, your master was just like you when he was mamma's little boy. He shirked his work whenever he could; he used to romp and tear his clothes if he had a chance, and was far from being too good for this world; and if he was not all that, well, I am only sorry for him, that's all."
I believe that the man who thoroughly knows all the resources of the mischievous little army he has to fight and rule is better qualified and prepared for the struggle.
We have in French an old proverb that says: "It's no use trying to teach an old monkey how to make faces."
The best testimonial in favor of a school-master is that the boys should be able to say of him: "It's no use trying this or that with him; he always knows what we are up to."
How is he to know what his pupils are "up to" if he has not himself been "up to" the same tricks and games?
The base of all strategy is the perfect knowledge of all the roads of the country in which you wage war.
To be well up in all the ways and tricks of boys is to be aware of all the moves of the enemy.
It is an awful moment when, for the first time, you take your seat in front of forty pairs of bright eyes that are fixed upon you, and seem to say:
"Well, what shall it be? Do you think you can keep us in order, or are we going to let you have a lively time of it?"
All depends on this terrible moment. Your life will be one of comfort, and even happiness, or one of utter wretchedness.
Strike the first blow and win, or you will soon learn that if you do not get the better of the lively crew they will surely get the better of you.
I was prepared for the baptism of fire.
I even had a little theory that had once obtained for me the good graces of a head-master.
This gentleman informed me that the poor fellow I was going to replace had shot himself in despair of being ever able to keep his boys in order, and he asked me what I thought of it.
"Well," I unhesitatingly answered, "I would have shot the boys."
"Right!" he exclaimed; "you are my man."
If, as I strongly suspected from certain early reminiscences, to have been a mischievous boy was a qualification for being a good school-master, I thought I ought to make a splendid one.
The result of my first interview with British boys was that we understood each other perfectly. We were to make a happy family. That was settled in a minute by a few glances at each other.
IV
The "Genus" Boy. – The Only One I Object To. – What Boys Work For.
Boys lose their charm when they get fifteen or sixteen years of age. The clever ones, no doubt, become more interesting to the teacher, but they no longer belong to the genus boy that you love for his very defects as much as for his good qualities.
I call "boys" that delightful, lovable race of young scamps from eleven to fourteen years old. At that age all have redeeming points, and all are lovable. I never objected to any, except perhaps to those who aimed at perfection, especially the ones who were successful in their efforts.
For my part, I like a boy with a redeeming fault or two.
By "boys" I mean little fellows who manage, after a game of football, to get their right arm out of order, that they may be excused writing their exercises for a week or so; who do not work because they have an examination to prepare, but because you offer them an inducement to do so, whether in the shape of rewards, or maybe something less pleasant you may keep in your cupboard.
V
School Boys I have Met. – Promising Britons. – Sly-Boots. – Too Good for this World. – "No, Thanks, We Makes It." – French Dictionaries. – A Naughty Boy. – Mothers' Pets. – Dirty but Beautiful. – John Bully. – High Collars and Brains. – Dictation and its Trials. – Not to be Taken In. – Unlucky Boys. – The Use of Two Ears. – A Boy with One Idea. – Master Whirligig. – The Influence of Athletics. – A Good Situation. – A Shrewd Boy of Business. – Master Algernon Cadwaladr Smyth, and Other Typical Schoolboys.
Master Johnny Bull is a good little boy who sometimes makes slips in his exercises, but mistakes – never.
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