I think I am just far too attached to the idea of Rodney and John in knee-breeches.
And the navy would be the closest John could get to flying at this point in history, I'm afraid.
(Though he always wanted to fly as a very small boy, and would frequently demand of his tutor why he could not. This would only produce a sigh from the long-suffering Mr Hammond, who would be obliged to explain once more that God had so ordered His estates that the air was left to the birds, and the land to be the dominion of man.
John had always found this explanation inadequate; and after his second attempt at flight by jumping from one of the oaks which had spread out over his family's lands since before the Restoration, so did Lady Sheppard.
"John," she said to her youngest son, settling him into her lap and smoothing down his tousled curls, "You will learn before you are very much older that there are some things in this world that are out of our reach, for which we should not grasp. I know how much you would like to fly, but Mr Hammond is quite correct when he says that it is impossible for any man. If you try, you will only fall."
He listened to her advice as much as he ever did to anything his parents said to him: that is, he outwardly disdained to follow it, while secretly carrying it around with him in that inner place which very few people got to see. He carried it with him through two years at Harrow, through his refusal to return and begin the studies which would see him ordained, through his obstinate desire to enlist as a midshipman in His Majesty's Navy.
Even once John was made post-captain, he would think of her words occasionally, whenever he swarmed his way up the rigging, ignoring the protest of his first lieutenant. He could sit up there for hours at a time, he thought, savouring the comforting pitch and creak of wood around him, the crash and thunder of the waves as his crew pushed his ship on ever faster, spray flying around them, the way the rigging cradled him away from the blue sea and up towards bluest sky.
Up there, he always knew just how close he was to falling; but he would tilt his face to the sky and risk it anyway.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Re: Most horrible pastiche in the history of pastiches!
Date: 2006-04-11 11:48 am (UTC)And the navy would be the closest John could get to flying at this point in history, I'm afraid.
(Though he always wanted to fly as a very small boy, and would frequently demand of his tutor why he could not. This would only produce a sigh from the long-suffering Mr Hammond, who would be obliged to explain once more that God had so ordered His estates that the air was left to the birds, and the land to be the dominion of man.
John had always found this explanation inadequate; and after his second attempt at flight by jumping from one of the oaks which had spread out over his family's lands since before the Restoration, so did Lady Sheppard.
"John," she said to her youngest son, settling him into her lap and smoothing down his tousled curls, "You will learn before you are very much older that there are some things in this world that are out of our reach, for which we should not grasp. I know how much you would like to fly, but Mr Hammond is quite correct when he says that it is impossible for any man. If you try, you will only fall."
He listened to her advice as much as he ever did to anything his parents said to him: that is, he outwardly disdained to follow it, while secretly carrying it around with him in that inner place which very few people got to see. He carried it with him through two years at Harrow, through his refusal to return and begin the studies which would see him ordained, through his obstinate desire to enlist as a midshipman in His Majesty's Navy.
Even once John was made post-captain, he would think of her words occasionally, whenever he swarmed his way up the rigging, ignoring the protest of his first lieutenant. He could sit up there for hours at a time, he thought, savouring the comforting pitch and creak of wood around him, the crash and thunder of the waves as his crew pushed his ship on ever faster, spray flying around them, the way the rigging cradled him away from the blue sea and up towards bluest sky.
Up there, he always knew just how close he was to falling; but he would tilt his face to the sky and risk it anyway.)
Though Peter Pan works too *g*