His great ambition was to rival young David Williams, son of the blind minstrel, in the manly art of horsemanship. This hardy lad performed his errands to the post office and market of the neighbouring town on a poney, who yielded to none of Welch extraction in obstinacy and determined disobedience to controul. He had more ingenious devices to dislodge young David from his back, than young David had resources at all times ready to disappoint and thwart him in his contrivances; and hence it rarely came to pass, that the horse and his rider did not part company before the expedition was complete and at an end. If David was by chance encharged with frangible commodities, nobody could ensure upon a worse bottom. Poney had not a single friend in house or stable; every soul gave him an ill name; but some enjoyed to witness his malicious tricks, whilst to others David always set out with an assurance, that he would master him, and generally came home with tokens, that gave ocular demonstration to the contrary.
One evening as David was returning home through the park with a cargo of sundries in a basket, and just then in high good humour with his poney, he was met by his friend John exactly at the pass, where the two roads branched off, the one towards the castle, and the other to the stables. David’s business carried him to the house, but the poney was disposed to carry him and his business to the stable. This begat a difference of opinions on the spot, and the dispute soon begat blows, which were manfully laid on by the rider, and passionately resented by the receiver. After a sufficient number of indecisive plunges, which brought the basket of miscellaneous articles to the ground, but left the rider only a little forwarder on his saddle than was quite convenient, poney seemed in the humour to compromise the question between the two roads by taking neither; but bolted forwards at full speed towards the hah-hah, that bounded the pleasure ground, upon the very brink of which he made a sudden stop, and throwing up his heels at the same instant with his head between his knees, he completely effected his purpose by pitching his jockey into the aforesaid hah-hah, which, luckily for its visitor, was just then full of water.
When John, who had been spectator of the contest, had assisted his friend in getting out of the water, and found all bones whole, he repaired to the stable, where the contumacious poney was still standing at the door, and, arming himself, with David’s whip, proceeded to mount. This was a new demand, which the poney could by no means reconcile to his feelings; the battle instantly commenced; and victory hung between them for a while without any seeming partiality to either side: many a time they came to the ground together, but never parted; till at length, after plenty of restive manœuvres, and a pretty many Welch remonstrances, poney gave in, and, to the immortal honour of our young Antæus, ever after became as tractable as a turn-spit.
CHAPTER VI.
Education stands still. The Seeds of Enmity are sown. The Incident of the dying Soldier.
Whilst our hero was thus gaining laurels in the field by his bodily achievements, in mental attainments he made no great progress. His good aunt Cecilia laboured hard at her English lessons, but his play-fellows and companions without any labour kept him in such practice with their Welch, that between both languages he was in danger of speaking neither. Still his kind instructress persevered in teaching him such things as she could teach and he could learn, but although he was now advanced beyond the age, when boys in general turn out to public schools, the parties, which sate in council on the specific mode of education to be pursued, were so wide of an adjustment, that it might well be made a doubt if he was in any way of being educated at all.
Mr. Philip De Lancaster had naturally so little interest in his own opinions upon this, or any other question, that he parted from them upon the easiest terms, and took them back again upon the slightest reasons. He had been heard to say that something should be thought of for him, but the task of thinking was a task he did not concern himself about. If the decision between public and private education had rested upon Philip, his casting vote would have been as mere a matter of chance, as the cast of the dice.
Mrs. De Lancaster, the mother, who never opened upon this subject, except once to Cecilia, expressed her opinion that the question was of no importance: he was his father’s son, and educate him how they would, he would still be his son, and education could not mend him.
Cecilia was humbly of opinion, that the subject was above her, and properly belonged to the other sex to consider and decide. She observed however that Colonel Wilson had given his sons a public education, and she believed he had no cause to repent of it: this was evidently a lure to hook him into the debate, and a pretty clear insinuation which way her judgment and her wishes pointed. But the master-opinion, which alone could resolve, and carry resolution into effect, was still to be sought for in the bosom of the grandfather, and he did not seem in haste to bring it forth.
If it were put to me in the way of question, he said to Cecilia, whether I am prepared to recommend a public school, I answer, no: if you should persist to ask what other system I would recommend, I should observe to you, that system is subordinate to nature, and that none such ought to be laid down, till it is apparent and made clear to what the genius of my grandson points. When I make use of the term genius, let me not be understood as if admitting any inborn influence, which might seem to favour the absurd chimeras about innate ideas. I am aware that Sophocles in his Ajax asserts, that the happiness of man consists only in his ignorance: in his ignorance of such things, as would make man miserable did he know them, his happiness may indeed be said to consist; and so far only I can agree with Sophocles; for ignorance, in its proper sense, can make no man happy; on the contrary I hold it as a truth incontrovertible, that, if any human being could be perfect in virtue, he would be perfect in wisdom also; and if such be the test of wisdom, how can ignorance be said to make him happy? Now if the wisdom of virtue is to be instilled into the young pupil by the wisdom of books, it must surely be by other books, than his masters in the dead languages may always happen to select for his instruction in those languages. Cicero wrote about the cardinal virtues, as he was pleased to call them, and it is not quite clear to me, that suicide was not one of the family: in fact, his book is good for nothing; the man was a follower of the New Academy, and of course could have no opinion: his ambition was to talk about every thing, and his maxim to decide upon nothing. You, my excellent Cecilia, can for the present teach your nephew what he ought to know, and perhaps if he never learns what you cannot teach, he will have no loss. You will instil into his heart religion in its purest principles—in teaching that, you teach him every thing.
When this honest, but eccentric, man had thus unluckily entrenched himself on the wrong side of a clear question, he could find so many specious arguments of this sort for doing nothing, that of course nothing was done; and the mind of the neglected boy, now thirsting for instruction, found every avenue shut against him, except that only, which had little new to afford.