Cashel Byron''s Profession

Cashel Byron's Profession

by

George Bernard Shaw


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Cashel Byron's Profession


Prologue 3
Chapter 1 20
Chapter 2 26
Chapter 3 35
Chapter 4 48
Chapter 5 61
Chapter 6 68
Chapter 7 82
Chapter 8 95
Chapter 9 103
Chapter 10 117
Chapter 11 132
Chapter 12 141
Chapter 13 151
Chapter 14 160
Chapter 15 176
Chapter 16 180


Prologue

I
Moncrief House, Panley Common. Scholastic establishment for the sons of gentlemen,
etc.
Panley Common, viewed from the back windows of Moncrief House, is a tract of grass,
furze and rushes, stretching away to the western horizon.
One wet spring afternoon the sky was full of broken clouds, and the common was swept
by their shadows, between which patches of green and yellow gorse were bright in the
broken sunlight. The hills to the northward were obscured by a heavy shower, traces of
which were drying off the slates of the school, a square white building, formerly a
gentleman's country-house. In front of it was a well-kept lawn with a few clipped holly-
trees. At the rear, a quarter of an acre of land was enclosed for the use of the boys.
Strollers on the common could hear, at certain hours, a hubbub of voices and racing
footsteps from within the boundary wall. Sometimes, when the strollers were boys
themselves, they climbed to the coping, and saw on the other side a piece of common
trampled bare and brown, with a few square yards of concrete, so worn into hollows as
to be unfit for its original use as a ball-alley. Also a long shed, a pump, a door defaced
by innumerable incised inscriptions, the back of the house in much worse repair than
the front, and about fifty boys in tailless jackets and broad, turned-down collars. When
the fifty boys perceived a stranger on the wall they rushed to the spot with a wild halloo,
overwhelmed him with insult and defiance, and dislodged him by a volley of clods,
stones, lumps of bread, and such other projectiles as were at hand.
On this rainy spring afternoon a brougham stood at the door of Moncrief House. The
coachman, enveloped in a white india-rubber coat, was bestirring himself a little after
the recent shower. Within-doors, in the drawing-room, Dr. Moncrief was conversing with
a stately lady aged about thirty-five, elegantly dressed, of attractive manner, and only
falling short of absolute beauty in her complexion, which was deficient in freshness.
"No progress whatever, I am sorry to say," the doctor was remarking.
"That is very disappointing," said the lady, contracting her brows.
"It is natural that you should feel disappointed," replied the doctor. "I would myself
earnestly advise you to try the effect of placing him at some other " The doctor
stopped. The lady's face had lit up with a wonderful smile, and she had raised her hand
with a bewitching gesture of protest.
"Oh, no, Dr. Moncrief," she said. "I am not disappointed with YOU; but I am all the more
angry with Cashel, because I know that if he makes no progress with you it must be his
own fault. As to taking him away, that is out of the question. I should not have a
moment's peace if he were out of your care. I will speak to him very seriously about his
conduct before I leave to-day. You will give him another trial, will you not?"
"Certainly. With the greatest pleasure," exclaimed the doctor, confusing himself by an
inept attempt at gallantry. "He shall stay as long as you please. But" here the doctor
became grave again "you cannot too strongly urge upon him the importance of hard
work at the present time, which may be said to be the turning-point of his career as a
student. He is now nearly seventeen; and he has so little inclination for study that I
doubt whether he could pass the examination necessary to entering one of the
universities. You probably wish him to take a degree before he chooses a profession."
"Yes, of course," said the lady, vaguely, evidently assenting to the doctor's remark
rather than expressing a conviction of her own. "What profession would you advise for
him? You know so much better than I."
"Hum!" said Dr. Moncrief, puzzled. "That would doubtless depend to some extent on his
own taste "
"Not at all," said the lady, interrupting him with vivacity. "What does he know about the
world, poor boy? His own taste is sure to be something ridiculous. Very likely he would
want to go on the stage, like me."
"Oh! Then you would not encourage any tendency of that sort?"
"Most decidedly not. I hope he has no such idea."
"Not that I am aware of. He shows so little ambition to excel in any particular branch that
I should say his choice of a profession may be best determined by his parents. I am, of
course, ignorant whether his relatives possess influence likely to be of use to him. That
is often the chief point to be considered, particularly in cases like your son's, where no
special aptitude manifests itself."
"I am the only relative he ever had, poor fellow," said the lady, with a pensive smile.
Then, seeing an expression of astonishment on the doctor's face, she added, quickly,
"They are all dead."
"Dear me!"
"However," she continued, "I have no doubt I can make plenty of interest for him. But it
is difficult to get anything nowadays without passing competitive examinations. He really
must work. If he is lazy he ought to be punished."
The doctor looked perplexed. "The fact is," he said, "your son can hardly be dealt with
as a child any longer. He is still quite a boy in his habits and ideas; but physically he is
rapidly springing up into a young man. That reminds me of another point on which I will
ask you to speak earnestly to him. I must tell you that he has attained some distinction
among his school-fellows here as an athlete. Within due bounds I do not discourage
bodily exercises: they are a recognized part of our system. But I am sorry to say that
Cashel has not escaped that tendency to violence which sometimes results from the
possession of unusual strength and dexterity. He actually fought with one of the village
youths in the main street of Panley some months ago. The matter did not come to my
ears immediately; and, when it did, I allowed it to pass unnoticed, as he had interfered,
it seems, to protect one of the smaller boys. Unfortunately he was guilty of a much more
serious fault a little later. He and a companion of his had obtained leave from me to
walk to Panley Abbey together. I afterwards found that their real object was to witness a
prize-fight that took place illegally, of course on the common. Apart from the deception
practised, I think the taste they betrayed a dangerous one; and I felt bound to punish
them by a severe imposition, and restriction to the grounds for six weeks. I do not hold,
however, that everything has been done in these cases when a boy has been punished.
I set a high value on a mother's influence for softening the natural roughness of boys."
"I don't think he minds what I say to him in the least," said the lady, with a sympathetic
air, as if she pitied the doctor in a matter that chiefly concerned him. "I will speak to him
about it, of course. Fighting is an unbearable habit. His father's people were always
fighting; and they never did any good in the world."
"If you will be so kind. There are just the three points: the necessity for greater much
greater application to his studies; a word to him on the subject of rough habits; and to
sound him as to his choice of a career. I agree with you in not attaching much
importance to his ideas on that subject as yet. Still, even a boyish fancy may be turned
to account in rousing the energies of a lad."
"Quite so," assented the lady. "I will certainly give him a lecture."
The doctor looked at her mistrustfully, thinking perhaps that she herself would be the
better for a lecture on her duties as a mother. But he did not dare to tell her so; indeed,
having a prejudice to the effect that actresses were deficient in natural feeling, he
doubted the use of daring. He also feared that the subject of her son was beginning to
bore her; and, though a doctor of divinity, he was as reluctant as other men to be found
wanting in address by a pretty woman. So he rang the bell, and bade the servant send
Master Cashel Byron. Presently a door was heard to open below, and a buzz of distant
voices became audible. The doctor fidgeted and tried to think of something to say, but
his invention failed him: he sat in silence while the inarticulate buzz rose into a shouting
of "By-ron!" "Cash!" the latter cry imitated from the summons usually addressed to
cashiers in haberdashers' shops. Finally there was a piercing yell of "Mam-ma-a-a-a-
ah!" apparently in explanation of the demand for Byron's attendance in the drawing-
room. The doctor reddened. Mrs. Byron smiled. Then the door below closed, shutting
out the tumult, and footsteps were heard on the stairs.
"Come in," cried the doctor, encouragingly.
Master Cashel Byron entered blushing; made his way awkwardly to his mother, and
kissed the critical expression which was on her upturned face as she examined his
appearance. Being only seventeen, he had not yet acquired a taste for kissing. He
inexpertly gave Mrs. Byron quite a shock by the collision of their teeth. Conscious of the
failure, he drew himself upright, and tried to hide his hands, which were exceedingly
dirty, in the scanty folds of his jacket. He was a well-grown youth, with neck and
shoulders already strongly formed, and short auburn hair curling in little rings close to
his scalp. He had blue eyes, and an expression of boyish good-humor, which, however,
did not convey any assurance of good temper.
"How do you do, Cashel?" said Mrs. Byron, in a queenly manner, after a prolonged look
at him.
"Very well, thanks," said he, grinning and avoiding her eye.
"Sit down, Byron," said the doctor. Byron suddenly forgot how to sit down, and looked
irresolutely from one chair to another. The doctor made a brief excuse, and left the
room; much to the relief of his pupil.
"You have grown greatly, Cashel. And I am afraid you are very awkward." Cashel
colored and looked gloomy.
"I do not know what to do with you," continued Mrs. Byron. "Dr. Moncrief tells me that
you are very idle and rough."
"I am not," said Cashel, sulkily. "It is bec "
"There is no use in contradicting me in that fashion," said Mrs. Byron, interrupting him
sharply. "I am sure that whatever Dr. Moncrief says is perfectly true."
"He is always talking like that," said Cashel, plaintively. "I can't learn Latin and Greek;
and I don't see what good they are. I work as hard as any of the rest except the regular
stews, perhaps. As to my being rough, that is all because I was out one day with Gully
Molesworth, and we saw a crowd on the common, and when we went to see what was
up it was two men fighting. It wasn't our fault that they came there to fight."
"Yes; I have no doubt that you have fifty good excuses, Cashel. But I will not allow any
fighting; and you really must work harder. Do you ever think of how hard I have to work
to pay Dr. Moncrief one hundred and twenty pounds a year for you?"
"I work as hard as I can. Old Moncrief seems to think that a fellow ought to do nothing
else from morning till night but write Latin verses. Tatham, that the doctor thinks such a
genius, does all his constering from cribs. If I had a crib I could conster as well very
likely better."
"You are very idle, Cashel; I am sure of that. It is too provoking to throw away so much
money every year for nothing. Besides, you must soon be thinking of a profession."
"I shall go into the army," said Cashel. "It is the only profession for a gentleman."
Mrs. Byron looked at him for a moment as if amazed at his presumption. But she
checked herself and only said, "I am afraid you will have to choose some less expensive
profession than that. Besides, you would have to pass an examination to enable you to
enter the army; and how can you do that unless you study?"
"Oh, I shall do that all right enough when the time comes."
"Dear, dear! You are beginning to speak so coarsely, Cashel. After all the pains I took
with you at home!"
"I speak the same as other people," he replied, sullenly. "I don't see the use of being so
jolly particular over every syllable. I used to have to stand no end of chaff about my way
of speaking. The fellows here know all about you, of course."
"All about me?" repeated Mrs. Byron, looking at him curiously.
"All about your being on the stage, I mean," said Cashel. "You complain of my fighting;
but I should have a precious bad time of it if I didn't lick the chaff out of some of them."
Mrs. Byron smiled doubtfully to herself, and remained silent and thoughtful for a
moment. Then she rose and said, glancing at the weather, "I must go now, Cashel,
before another shower begins. And do, pray, try to learn something, and to polish your
manners a little. You will have to go to Cambridge soon, you know."
"Cambridge!" exclaimed Cashel, excited. "When, mamma? When?"
"Oh, I don't know. Not yet. As soon as Dr. Moncrief says you are fit to go."
"That will be long enough," said Cashel, much dejected by this reply. "He will not turn
one hundred and twenty pounds a year out of doors in a hurry. He kept big Inglis here
until he was past twenty. Look here, mamma; might I go at the end of this half? I feel
sure I should do better at Cambridge than here."
"Nonsense," said Mrs. Byron, decidedly. "I do not expect to have to take you away from
Dr. Moncrief for the next eighteen months at least, and not then unless you work
properly. Now don't grumble, Cashel; you annoy me exceedingly when you do. I am
sorry I mentioned Cambridge to you."
"I would rather go to some other school, then," said Cashel, ruefully. "Old Moncrief is so
awfully down on me."
"You only want to leave because you are expected to work here; and that is the very
reason I wish you to stay."
Cashel made no reply; but his face darkened ominously.
"I have a word to say to the doctor before I go," she added, reseating herself. "You may
return to your play now. Good-bye, Cashel." And she again raised her face to be kissed.
"Good-bye," said Cashel, huskily, as he turned toward the door, pretending that he had
not noticed her action.
"Cashel!" she said, with emphatic surprise. "Are you sulky?"
"No," he retorted, angrily. "I haven't said anything. I suppose my manners are not good
enough, I'm very sorry; but I can't help it."
"Very well," said Mrs. Byron, firmly. "You can go, Cashel. I am not pleased with you."
Cashel walked out of the room and slammed the door. At the foot of the staircase he
was stopped by a boy about a year younger than himself, who accosted him eagerly.
"How much did she give you?" he whispered.
"Not a halfpenny," replied Cashel, grinding his teeth.
"Oh, I say!" exclaimed the other, much disappointed. "That was beastly mean."
"She's as mean as she can be," said Cashel. "It's all old Monkey's fault. He has been
cramming her with lies about me. But she's just as bad as he is. I tell you, Gully, I hate
my mother."
"Oh, come!" said Gully, shocked. "That's a little too strong, old chap. But she certainly
ought to have stood something."
"I don't know what you intend to do, Gully; but I mean to bolt. If she thinks I am going to
stick here for the next two years she is jolly much mistaken."
"It would be an awful lark to bolt," said Gully, with a chuckle. "But," he added, seriously,
"if you really mean it, by George, I'll go too! Wilson has just given me a thousand lines;
and I'll be hanged if I do them."
"Gully," said Cashel, his eyes sparkling, "I should like to see one of those chaps we saw
on the common pitch into the doctor get him on the ropes, you know."
Gully's mouth watered. "Yes," he said, breathlessly; "particularly the fellow they called
the Fibber. Just one round would be enough for the old beggar. Let's come out into the
playground; I shall catch it if I am found here."
II
That night there was just sufficient light struggling through the clouds to make Panley
Common visible as a black expanse, against the lightest tone of which a piece of ebony
would have appeared pale. Not a human being was stirring within a mile of Moncrief
House, the chimneys of which, ghostly white on the side next the moon, threw long
shadows on the silver-gray slates. The stillness had just been broken by the stroke of a
quarter past twelve from a distant church tower, when, from the obscurity of one of
these chimney shadows, a head emerged. It belonged to a boy, whose body presently
wriggled through an open skylight. When his shoulders were through he turned himself
face upward, seized the miniature gable in which the skylight was set, drew himself
completely out, and made his way stealthily down to the parapet. He was immediately
followed by another boy.
The door of Moncrief House was at the left-hand corner of the front, and was
surmounted by a tall porch, the top of which was flat and could be used as a balcony. A
wall, of the same height as the porch, connected the house front with the boundary wall,
and formed part of the enclosure of a fruit garden which lay at the side of the house
between the lawn and the playground. When the two boys had crept along the parapet
to a point directly above the porch they stopped, and each lowered a pair of boots to the
balcony by means of fishing-lines. When the boots were safely landed, their owners let
the lines drop and reentered the house by another skylight. A minute elapsed. Then
they reappeared on the top of the porch, having come out through the window to which
it served as a balcony. Here they put on their boots, and stepped on to the wall of the
fruit garden. As they crawled along it, the hindmost boy whispered.
"I say, Cashy."
"Shut up, will you," replied the other under his breath. "What's wrong?"
"I should like to have one more go at old mother Moncrief's pear-tree; that's all."
"There are no pears on it this season, you fool."
"I know. This is the last time we shall go this road, Cashy. Usen't it to be a lark? Eh?"
"If you don't shut up, it won't be the last time; for you'll be caught. Now for it."
Cashel had reached the outer wall, and he finished his sentence by dropping from it to
the common. Gully held his breath for some moments after the noise made by his
companion's striking the ground. Then he demanded in a whisper whether all was right.
"Yes," returned Cashel, impatiently. "Drop as soft as you can."
Gully obeyed; and was so careful lest his descent should shake the earth and awake
the doctor, that his feet shrank from the concussion. He alighted in a sitting posture, and
remained there, looking up at Cashel with a stunned expression.
"Crikey!" he ejaculated, presently. "That was a buster."
"Get up, I tell you," said Cashel. "I never saw such a jolly ass as you are. Here, up with
you! Have you got your wind back?"
"I should think so. Bet you twopence I'll be first at the cross roads. I say, let's pull the
bell at the front gate and give an awful yell before we start. They'll never catch us."
"Yes," said Cashel, ironically; "I fancy I see myself doing it, or you either. Now then.
One, two, three, and away."
They ran off together, and reached the cross roads about eight minutes later; Gully
completely out of breath, and Cashel nearly so. Here, according to their plan, Gully was
to take the north road and run to Scotland, where he felt sure that his uncle's
gamekeeper would hide him. Cashel was to go to sea; where, he argued, he could, if
his affairs became desperate, turn pirate, and achieve eminence in that profession by
adding a chivalrous humanity to the ruder virtues for which it is already famous.
Cashel waited until Gully had recovered from his race. Then he said.
"Now, old fellow, we've got to separate."
Gully, thus confronted with the lonely realities of his scheme, did not like the prospect.
After a moment's reflection he exclaimed:
"Damme, old chap, but I'll come with you. Scotland may go and be hanged."
But Cashel, being the stronger of the two, was as anxious to get rid of Gully as Gully
was to cling to him. "No," he said; "I'm going to rough it; and you wouldn't be able for
that. You're not strong enough for a sea life. Why, man, those sailor fellows are as hard
as nails; and even they can hardly stand it."
"Well, then, do you come with me," urged Gully. "My uncle's gamekeeper won't mind.
He's a jolly good sort; and we shall have no end of shooting."
"That's all very well for you, Gully; but I don't know your uncle; and I'm not going to put
myself under a compliment to his gamekeeper. Besides, we should run too much risk of
being caught if we went through the country together. Of course I should be only too
glad if we could stick to one another, but it wouldn't do; I feel certain we should be
nabbed. Good-bye."

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