Mrs. Dodd laid aside her personal ambition with her maiden name; but she
looked high for her children. Perhaps she was all the more ambitious for
them, that they had no rival aspirant in Mrs. Dodd. She educated Julia
herself from first to last: but with true feminine distrust of her power
to mould a lordling of creation, she sent Edward to Eton, at nine. This
was slackening her tortoise; for at Eton is no female master, to coax
dry knowledge into a slow head. However, he made good progress in two
branches--aquatics and cricket.
After Eton came the choice of a profession. His mother recognised but
four; and these her discreet ambition speedily sifted down to two. For
military heroes are shot now and then, however pacific the century; and
naval ones drowned. She would never expose her Edward to this class
of accidents. Glory by all means; glory by the pail; but safe glory,
please; or she would none of it. Remained the church and the bar: and,
within these reasonable limits, she left her dear boy free as air;
and not even hurried--there was plenty of time to choose: he must pass
through the university to either. This last essential had been settled
about a twelvemonth, and the very day for his going to Oxford was at
hand, when one morning Mr. Edward formally cleared his throat: it was
an unusual act, and drew the ladies' eyes upon him. He followed the
solemnity up by delivering calmly and ponderously a connected discourse,
which astonished them by its length and purport. “Mamma, dear, let us
look the thing in the face.” (This was his favourite expression, as
well as habit.) “I have been thinking it quietly over for the last six
months. Why send me to the university? I shall be out of place there.
It will cost you a lot of money, and no good. Now, you take a fool's
advice; don't you waste your money and papa's, sending a dull fellow
like me to Oxford. I did bad enough at _Eton._ Make me an engineer, or
something. If you were not so fond of me, and I of you, I'd say send me
to Canada, with a pickaxe; you know I have got no headpiece.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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