Love stories; Nobility -- Great Britain -- Fiction; Switzerland -- Fiction
For the rest, on the appointed Monday he presented himself at Garrick
Street, and began his course of tuition under the general direction of
the wise Mr. Scoones, “cramming” as it was called. This, indeed,
exactly describes the process, for all knowledge was rejected except
that which was likely to obtain marks in the course of an examination
by hide-bound persons appointed to ascertain who were the individuals
best fitted to be appointed to various branches of the Public Service.
Anything less calculated to secure the selection of suitable men than
such a system cannot well be imagined. However, it was that which
certain nebulous authorities had decreed should prevail, and there was
an end of it, although in effect it involved, and still involves, the
frequent sacrifice of those qualities and characteristics which are
essential to a public servant, to others that are quite the reverse.
For instance, to a parrot-like memory and the power of acquiring a
superficial acquaintance with much miscellaneous information and
remembering the same for, say, six months.
Although he hated the business and thought with longing of his studies,
stellar and other, in the Kleindorf observatory, Godfrey was quite
clever enough to collect what was needed. In fact, some three months
later he passed his examination with ease about half-way up the list,
and duly entered Sandhurst.
He found the establishment at Garrick Street just such a place as its
owner had described. In it were many charming but idle young men, often
with a certain amount of means, who were going up for the Diplomatic
Service, the Foreign Office, the Indian Civil, or various branches of
the army. Of these a large proportion enjoyed life but did little else,
and in due course failed in their competitive encounters with the
examiners.
Others were too stupid to succeed, or perhaps their natural talents had
another bent, while the remainder, by no means the most brilliant, but
with a faculty for passing examinations and without any disturbing
originality, worked hard and sailed into their desired haven with
considerable facility, being of the stuff of which most successful men
are made. For the rest, there was the opportunity, and if they did not
avail themselves of it Scoones’ was not to blame. It was, and perhaps
still remains, a most admirable institution of its sort, one, indeed,
of which the present chronicler has very grateful recollections.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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