Our Family Affairs, 1867-1896Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
General
Our Family Affairs, 1867-1896
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
Benson family
So the poor ugly duckling who had failed to accomplish anything went
home to its family of swans, who, dazzlingly white, cut circles in the
air above it on the pinions of their various accomplishments. There was
Arthur, now nineteen, who had got an Eton scholarship at King’s College,
Cambridge, and was going there in October, whose scholastic success was
only equalled by his volleys with an Eton football and his wholly
untakeable service at lawn-tennis. He could do everything with ease, was
listened to by my father with attention when he talked, and yet remained
unconscious of his sovereignty, and was altogether kind and faintly
pitiful to my all-round shortcomings. There was Nellie, who annexed
every distinction that could be annexed at the Truro High School,
except when Maggie butted up against her, who could play Schumann’s
first novelette and had been pronounced to have a “veiled” contralto
voice in which she sang melodies by Marzials and Molloy, and who, on the
occasion of Redruth High School or some inferior congregation of females
challenging Truro High School for a match at cricket, bowled out the
entire side of those misguided young ladies with lobs that cut the
daisies from their stalks and were admired even by the vanquished for
their paralyzing swiftness. Then there was Maggie, who took the rest of
the prizes at the High School and painted ravishly not only in
water-colours, but in oils, with McGuilp (was it?) as a medium, and
tubes that squirted rainbows on to her palette. She was not athletic,
but she had the great physical distinction of having been knocked down
by a cow whose calf had been taken from her, and lying prone on the
ground held on to the animal’s horns and with perfect calmness continued
to scream loudly and serenely until rescued by Parker the butler. After
these dazzling swans there came the ugly duckling, who had failed in
games and in scholarship, who had not achieved the smallest intellectual
distinction, but who in some queer manner of his own was quite as
independent as any of the swans.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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