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diff --git a/1480-0.txt b/1480-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ed76d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/1480-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10336 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1480 *** + +This etext was prepared from the 1905 Thomas Nelson and Sons edition + + + + + + +TOM BROWN'S SCHOOLDAYS + +By Thomas Hughes + + + + +PART I. + + + +CHAPTER I--THE BROWN FAMILY + + “I'm the Poet of White Horse Vale, sir, + With liberal notions under my cap.”--Ballad + +The Browns have become illustrious by the pen of Thackeray and the +pencil of Doyle, within the memory of the young gentlemen who are now +matriculating at the universities. Notwithstanding the well-merited but +late fame which has now fallen upon them, any one at all acquainted with +the family must feel that much has yet to be written and said before the +British nation will be properly sensible of how much of its greatness it +owes to the Browns. For centuries, in their quiet, dogged, homespun way, +they have been subduing the earth in most English counties, and leaving +their mark in American forests and Australian uplands. Wherever the +fleets and armies of England have won renown, there stalwart sons of the +Browns have done yeomen's work. With the yew bow and cloth-yard shaft at +Cressy and Agincourt--with the brown bill and pike under the brave +Lord Willoughby--with culverin and demi-culverin against Spaniards and +Dutchmen--with hand-grenade and sabre, and musket and bayonet, under +Rodney and St. Vincent, Wolfe and Moore, Nelson and Wellington, they +have carried their lives in their hands, getting hard knocks and hard +work in plenty--which was on the whole what they looked for, and the +best thing for them--and little praise or pudding, which indeed they, +and most of us, are better without. Talbots and Stanleys, St. Maurs, +and such-like folk, have led armies and made laws time out of mind; but +those noble families would be somewhat astounded--if the accounts ever +came to be fairly taken--to find how small their work for England has +been by the side of that of the Browns. + +These latter, indeed, have, until the present generation, rarely been +sung by poet, or chronicled by sage. They have wanted their sacer vates, +having been too solid to rise to the top by themselves, and not having +been largely gifted with the talent of catching hold of, and holding on +tight to, whatever good things happened to be going--the foundation of +the fortunes of so many noble families. But the world goes on its way, +and the wheel turns, and the wrongs of the Browns, like other wrongs, +seem in a fair way to get righted. And this present writer, having for +many years of his life been a devout Brown-worshipper, and, moreover, +having the honour of being nearly connected with an eminently +respectable branch of the great Brown family, is anxious, so far as in +him lies, to help the wheel over, and throw his stone on to the pile. + +However, gentle reader, or simple reader, whichever you may be, lest you +should be led to waste your precious time upon these pages, I make so +bold as at once to tell you the sort of folk you'll have to meet and put +up with, if you and I are to jog on comfortably together. You shall hear +at once what sort of folk the Browns are--at least my branch of them; +and then, if you don't like the sort, why, cut the concern at once, and +let you and I cry quits before either of us can grumble at the other. + +In the first place, the Browns are a fighting family. One may question +their wisdom, or wit, or beauty, but about their fight there can be no +question. Wherever hard knocks of any kind, visible or invisible, are +going; there the Brown who is nearest must shove in his carcass. +And these carcasses, for the most part, answer very well to the +characteristic propensity: they are a squareheaded and snake-necked +generation, broad in the shoulder, deep in the chest, and thin in +the flank, carrying no lumber. Then for clanship, they are as bad as +Highlanders; it is amazing the belief they have in one another. +With them there is nothing like the Browns, to the third and fourth +generation. “Blood is thicker than water,” is one of their pet sayings. +They can't be happy unless they are always meeting one another. Never +were such people for family gatherings; which, were you a stranger, or +sensitive, you might think had better not have been gathered together. +For during the whole time of their being together they luxuriate in +telling one another their minds on whatever subject turns up; and their +minds are wonderfully antagonistic, and all their opinions are downright +beliefs. Till you've been among them some time and understand them, you +can't think but that they are quarrelling. Not a bit of it. They love +and respect one another ten times the more after a good set family +arguing bout, and go back, one to his curacy, another to his chambers, +and another to his regiment, freshened for work, and more than ever +convinced that the Browns are the height of company. + +This family training, too, combined with their turn for combativeness, +makes them eminently quixotic. They can't let anything alone which they +think going wrong. They must speak their mind about it, annoying all +easy-going folk, and spend their time and money in having a tinker at +it, however hopeless the job. It is an impossibility to a Brown to leave +the most disreputable lame dog on the other side of a stile. Most other +folk get tired of such work. The old Browns, with red faces, white +whiskers, and bald heads, go on believing and fighting to a green old +age. They have always a crotchet going, till the old man with the scythe +reaps and garners them away for troublesome old boys as they are. + +And the most provoking thing is, that no failures knock them up, or make +them hold their hands, or think you, or me, or other sane people in +the right. Failures slide off them like July rain off a duck's back +feathers. Jem and his whole family turn out bad, and cheat them one +week, and the next they are doing the same thing for Jack; and when he +goes to the treadmill, and his wife and children to the workhouse, they +will be on the lookout for Bill to take his place. + +However, it is time for us to get from the general to the particular; +so, leaving the great army of Browns, who are scattered over the whole +empire on which the sun never sets, and whose general diffusion I take +to be the chief cause of that empire's stability; let us at once fix our +attention upon the small nest of Browns in which our hero was hatched, +and which dwelt in that portion of the royal county of Berks which is +called the Vale of White Horse. + +Most of you have probably travelled down the Great Western Railway as +far as Swindon. Those of you who did so with their eyes open have been +aware, soon after leaving the Didcot station, of a fine range of chalk +hills running parallel with the railway on the left-hand side as you go +down, and distant some two or three miles, more or less, from the line. +The highest point in the range is the White Horse Hill, which you come +in front of just before you stop at the Shrivenham station. If you love +English scenery, and have a few hours to spare, you can't do better, +the next time you pass, than stop at the Farringdon Road or Shrivenham +station, and make your way to that highest point. And those who care for +the vague old stories that haunt country-sides all about England, will +not, if they are wise, be content with only a few hours' stay; for, +glorious as the view is, the neighbourhood is yet more interesting +for its relics of bygone times. I only know two English neighbourhoods +thoroughly, and in each, within a circle of five miles, there is enough +of interest and beauty to last any reasonable man his life. I believe +this to be the case almost throughout the country, but each has a +special attraction, and none can be richer than the one I am speaking of +and going to introduce you to very particularly, for on this subject I +must be prosy; so those that don't care for England in detail may skip +the chapter. + +O young England! young England! you who are born into these racing +railroad times, when there's a Great Exhibition, or some monster sight, +every year, and you can get over a couple of thousand miles of ground +for three pound ten in a five-weeks' holiday, why don't you know more of +your own birthplaces? You're all in the ends of the earth, it seems to +me, as soon as you get your necks out of the educational collar, for +midsummer holidays, long vacations, or what not--going round Ireland, +with a return ticket, in a fortnight; dropping your copies of Tennyson +on the tops of Swiss mountains; or pulling down the Danube in Oxford +racing boats. And when you get home for a quiet fortnight, you turn the +steam off, and lie on your backs in the paternal garden, surrounded by +the last batch of books from Mudie's library, and half bored to death. +Well, well! I know it has its good side. You all patter French more or +less, and perhaps German; you have seen men and cities, no doubt, and +have your opinions, such as they are, about schools of painting, high +art, and all that; have seen the pictures of Dresden and the Louvre, +and know the taste of sour krout. All I say is, you don't know your own +lanes and woods and fields. Though you may be choke-full of science, not +one in twenty of you knows where to find the wood-sorrel, or bee-orchis, +which grow in the next wood, or on the down three miles off, or what the +bog-bean and wood-sage are good for. And as for the country legends, +the stories of the old gable-ended farmhouses, the place where the last +skirmish was fought in the civil wars, where the parish butts stood, +where the last highwayman turned to bay, where the last ghost was laid +by the parson, they're gone out of date altogether. + +Now, in my time, when we got home by the old coach, which put us down at +the cross-roads with our boxes, the first day of the holidays, and had +been driven off by the family coachman, singing “Dulce Domum” at the top +of our voices, there we were, fixtures, till black Monday came round. We +had to cut out our own amusements within a walk or a ride of home. And +so we got to know all the country folk and their ways and songs and +stories by heart, and went over the fields and woods and hills, again +and again, till we made friends of them all. We were Berkshire, or +Gloucestershire, or Yorkshire boys; and you're young cosmopolites, +belonging to all countries and no countries. No doubt it's all right; I +dare say it is. This is the day of large views, and glorious humanity, +and all that; but I wish back-sword play hadn't gone out in the Vale of +White Horse, and that that confounded Great Western hadn't carried away +Alfred's Hill to make an embankment. + +But to return to the said Vale of White Horse, the country in which the +first scenes of this true and interesting story are laid. As I said, the +Great Western now runs right through it, and it is a land of large, rich +pastures bounded by ox-fences, and covered with fine hedgerow timber, +with here and there a nice little gorse or spinney, where abideth poor +Charley, having no other cover to which to betake himself for miles and +miles, when pushed out some fine November morning by the old Berkshire. +Those who have been there, and well mounted, only know how he and the +stanch little pack who dash after him--heads high and sterns low, with +a breast-high scent--can consume the ground at such times. There being +little ploughland, and few woods, the Vale is only an average sporting +country, except for hunting. The villages are straggling, queer, +old-fashioned places, the houses being dropped down without the least +regularity, in nooks and out-of-the-way corners, by the sides of shadowy +lanes and footpaths, each with its patch of garden. They are built +chiefly of good gray stone, and thatched; though I see that within the +last year or two the red-brick cottages are multiplying, for the Vale is +beginning to manufacture largely both bricks and tiles. There are lots +of waste ground by the side of the roads in every village, amounting +often to village greens, where feed the pigs and ganders of the people; +and these roads are old-fashioned, homely roads, very dirty and badly +made, and hardly endurable in winter, but still pleasant jog-trot roads +running through the great pasture-lands, dotted here and there with +little clumps of thorns, where the sleek kine are feeding, with no fence +on either side of them, and a gate at the end of each field, which makes +you get out of your gig (if you keep one), and gives you a chance of +looking about you every quarter of a mile. + +One of the moralists whom we sat under in our youth--was it the great +Richard Swiveller, or Mr. Stiggins--says, “We are born in a vale, and +must take the consequences of being found in such a situation.” These +consequences I, for one, am ready to encounter. I pity people who +weren't born in a vale. I don't mean a flat country; but a vale--that +is, a flat country bounded by hills. The having your hill always in view +if you choose to turn towards him--that's the essence of a vale. There +he is for ever in the distance, your friend and companion. You never +lose him as you do in hilly districts. + +And then what a hill is the White Horse Hill! There it stands right up +above all the rest, nine hundred feet above the sea, and the boldest, +bravest shape for a chalk hill that you ever saw. Let us go up to the +top of him, and see what is to be found there. Ay, you may well wonder +and think it odd you never heard of this before; but wonder or not, as +you please, there are hundreds of such things lying about England, which +wiser folk than you know nothing of, and care nothing for. Yes, it's a +magnificent Roman camp, and no mistake, with gates and ditch and mounds, +all as complete as it was twenty years after the strong old rogues left +it. Here, right up on the highest point, from which they say you can see +eleven counties, they trenched round all the table-land, some twelve or +fourteen acres, as was their custom, for they couldn't bear anybody to +overlook them, and made their eyrie. The ground falls away rapidly on +all sides. Was there ever such turf in the whole world? You sink up to +your ankles at every step, and yet the spring of it is delicious. There +is always a breeze in the “camp,” as it is called; and here it lies, +just as the Romans left it, except that cairn on the east side, left by +her Majesty's corps of sappers and miners the other day, when they and +the engineer officer had finished their sojourn there, and their surveys +for the ordnance map of Berkshire. It is altogether a place that you +won't forget, a place to open a man's soul, and make him prophesy, as +he looks down on that great Vale spread out as the garden of the Lord +before him, and wave on wave of the mysterious downs behind, and to the +right and left the chalk hills running away into the distance, along +which he can trace for miles the old Roman road, “the Ridgeway” (“the +Rudge,” as the country folk call it), keeping straight along the highest +back of the hills--such a place as Balak brought Balaam to, and told him +to prophesy against the people in the valley beneath. And he could not, +neither shall you, for they are a people of the Lord who abide there. + +And now we leave the camp, and descend towards the west, and are on +the Ashdown. We are treading on heroes. It is sacred ground for +Englishmen--more sacred than all but one or two fields where their bones +lie whitening. For this is the actual place where our Alfred won his +great battle, the battle of Ashdown (“Aescendum” in the chroniclers), +which broke the Danish power, and made England a Christian land. The +Danes held the camp and the slope where we are standing--the whole crown +of the hill, in fact. “The heathen had beforehand seized the higher +ground,” as old Asser says, having wasted everything behind them from +London, and being just ready to burst down on the fair Vale, Alfred's +own birthplace and heritage. And up the heights came the Saxons, as +they did at the Alma. “The Christians led up their line from the +lower ground. There stood also on that same spot a single thorn-tree, +marvellous stumpy (which we ourselves with our very own eyes have +seen).” Bless the old chronicler! Does he think nobody ever saw the +“single thorn-tree” but himself? Why, there it stands to this very day, +just on the edge of the slope, and I saw it not three weeks since--an +old single thorn-tree, “marvellous stumpy.” At least, if it isn't the +same tree it ought to have been, for it's just in the place where the +battle must have been won or lost--“around which, as I was saying, the +two lines of foemen came together in battle with a huge shout. And in +this place one of the two kings of the heathen and five of his earls +fell down and died, and many thousands of the heathen side in the same +place.” * After which crowning mercy, the pious king, that there might +never be wanting a sign and a memorial to the country-side, carved out +on the northern side of the chalk hill, under the camp, where it is +almost precipitous, the great Saxon White Horse, which he who will may +see from the railway, and which gives its name to the Vale, over which +it has looked these thousand years and more. + + * “Pagani editiorem Iocum praeoccupaverant. Christiani ab + inferiori loco aciem dirigebant. Erat quoque in eodem loco + unica spinosa arbor, brevis admodum (quam nos ipsi nostris + propriis oculis vidimus). Circa quam ergo hostiles inter se + acies cum ingenti clamore hostiliter conveniunt. Quo in + loco alter de duobus Paganorum regibus et quinque comites + occisi occubuerunt, et multa millia Paganae partis in eodem + loco. Cecidit illic ergo Boegsceg Rex, et Sidroc ille senex + comes, et Sidroc Junior comes, et Obsbern comes,” etc.-- + Annales Rerum Gestarum AElfredi Magni, Auctore Asserio. + Recensuit Franciscus Wise. Oxford, 1722, p.23. + +Right down below the White Horse is a curious deep and broad gully +called “the Manger,” into one side of which the hills fall with a series +of the most lovely sweeping curves, known as “the Giant's Stairs.” They +are not a bit like stairs, but I never saw anything like them anywhere +else, with their short green turf, and tender bluebells, and gossamer +and thistle-down gleaming in the sun and the sheep-paths running along +their sides like ruled lines. + +The other side of the Manger is formed by the Dragon's Hill, a curious +little round self-confident fellow, thrown forward from the range, +utterly unlike everything round him. On this hill some deliverer of +mankind--St. George, the country folk used to tell me--killed a dragon. +Whether it were St. George, I cannot say; but surely a dragon was killed +there, for you may see the marks yet where his blood ran down, and more +by token the place where it ran down is the easiest way up the hillside. + +Passing along the Ridgeway to the west for about a mile, we come to a +little clump of young beech and firs, with a growth of thorn and privet +underwood. Here you may find nests of the strong down partridge and +peewit, but take care that the keeper isn't down upon you; and in the +middle of it is an old cromlech, a huge flat stone raised on seven or +eight others, and led up to by a path, with large single stones set up +on each side. This is Wayland Smith's cave, a place of classic fame now; +but as Sir Walter has touched it, I may as well let it alone, and refer +you to “Kenilworth” for the legend. + +The thick, deep wood which you see in the hollow, about a mile off, +surrounds Ashdown Park, built by Inigo Jones. Four broad alleys are cut +through the wood from circumference to centre, and each leads to one +face of the house. The mystery of the downs hangs about house and wood, +as they stand there alone, so unlike all around, with the green slopes +studded with great stones just about this part, stretching away on all +sides. It was a wise Lord Craven, I think, who pitched his tent there. + +Passing along the Ridgeway to the east, we soon come to cultivated land. +The downs, strictly so called, are no more. Lincolnshire farmers have +been imported, and the long, fresh slopes are sheep-walks no more, but +grow famous turnips and barley. One of these improvers lives over there +at the “Seven Barrows” farm, another mystery of the great downs. There +are the barrows still, solemn and silent, like ships in the calm sea, +the sepulchres of some sons of men. But of whom? It is three miles from +the White Horse--too far for the slain of Ashdown to be buried there. +Who shall say what heroes are waiting there? But we must get down into +the Vale again, and so away by the Great Western Railway to town, +for time and the printer's devil press, and it is a terrible long and +slippery descent, and a shocking bad road. At the bottom, however, there +is a pleasant public; whereat we must really take a modest quencher, for +the down air is provocative of thirst. So we pull up under an old oak +which stands before the door. + +“What is the name of your hill, landlord?” + +“Blawing STWUN Hill, sir, to be sure.” + +[READER. “Stuym?” + +AUTHOR: “Stone, stupid--the Blowing Stone.”] + +“And of your house? I can't make out the sign.” + +“Blawing Stwun, sir,” says the landlord, pouring out his old ale from a +Toby Philpot jug, with a melodious crash, into the long-necked glass. + +“What queer names!” say we, sighing at the end of our draught, and +holding out the glass to be replenished. + +“Bean't queer at all, as I can see, sir,” says mine host, handing back +our glass, “seeing as this here is the Blawing Stwun, his self,” putting +his hand on a square lump of stone, some three feet and a half high, +perforated with two or three queer holes, like petrified antediluvian +rat-holes, which lies there close under the oak, under our very nose. We +are more than ever puzzled, and drink our second glass of ale, wondering +what will come next. “Like to hear un, sir?” says mine host, setting +down Toby Philpot on the tray, and resting both hands on the “Stwun.” We +are ready for anything; and he, without waiting for a reply, applies his +mouth to one of the ratholes. Something must come of it, if he doesn't +burst. Good heavens! I hope he has no apoplectic tendencies. Yes, here +it comes, sure enough, a gruesome sound between a moan and a roar, and +spreads itself away over the valley, and up the hillside, and into the +woods at the back of the house, a ghost-like, awful voice. “Um do say, +sir,” says mine host, rising purple-faced, while the moan is still +coming out of the Stwun, “as they used in old times to warn the +country-side by blawing the Stwun when the enemy was a-comin', and as +how folks could make un heered then for seven mile round; leastways, so +I've heered Lawyer Smith say, and he knows a smart sight about them old +times.” We can hardly swallow Lawyer Smith's seven miles; but could the +blowing of the stone have been a summons, a sort of sending the fiery +cross round the neighbourhood in the old times? What old times? Who +knows? We pay for our beer, and are thankful. + +“And what's the name of the village just below, landlord?” + +“Kingstone Lisle, sir.” + +“Fine plantations you've got here?” + +“Yes, sir; the Squire's 'mazing fond of trees and such like.” + +“No wonder. He's got some real beauties to be fond of. Good-day, +landlord.” + +“Good-day, sir, and a pleasant ride to 'ee.” + +And now, my boys, you whom I want to get for readers, have you had +enough? Will you give in at once, and say you're convinced, and let me +begin my story, or will you have more of it? Remember, I've only been +over a little bit of the hillside yet--what you could ride round easily +on your ponies in an hour. I'm only just come down into the Vale, by +Blowing Stone Hill; and if I once begin about the Vale, what's to stop +me? You'll have to hear all about Wantage, the birthplace of Alfred, and +Farringdon, which held out so long for Charles the First (the Vale was +near Oxford, and dreadfully malignant--full of Throgmortons, Puseys, +and Pyes, and such like; and their brawny retainers). Did you ever read +Thomas Ingoldsby's “Legend of Hamilton Tighe”? If you haven't, you ought +to have. Well, Farringdon is where he lived, before he went to sea; +his real name was Hamden Pye, and the Pyes were the great folk at +Farringdon. Then there's Pusey. You've heard of the Pusey horn, which +King Canute gave to the Puseys of that day, and which the gallant old +squire, lately gone to his rest (whom Berkshire freeholders turned out +of last Parliament, to their eternal disgrace, for voting according to +his conscience), used to bring out on high days, holidays, and bonfire +nights. And the splendid old cross church at Uffington, the Uffingas +town. How the whole countryside teems with Saxon names and memories! +And the old moated grange at Compton, nestled close under the hillside, +where twenty Marianas may have lived, with its bright water-lilies +in the moat, and its yew walk, “the cloister walk,” and its peerless +terraced gardens. There they all are, and twenty things beside, for +those who care about them, and have eyes. And these are the sort of +things you may find, I believe, every one of you, in any common English +country neighbourhood. + +Will you look for them under your own noses, or will you not? Well, +well, I've done what I can to make you; and if you will go gadding over +half Europe now, every holidays, I can't help it. I was born and bred +a west-country man, thank God! a Wessex man, a citizen of the noblest +Saxon kingdom of Wessex, a regular “Angular Saxon,” the very soul of me +adscriptus glebae. There's nothing like the old country-side for me, +and no music like the twang of the real old Saxon tongue, as one gets +it fresh from the veritable chaw in the White Horse Vale; and I say with +“Gaarge Ridler,” the old west-country yeoman,-- + + “Throo aall the waarld owld Gaarge would bwoast, + Commend me to merry owld England mwoast; + While vools gwoes prating vur and nigh, + We stwops at whum, my dog and I.” + +Here, at any rate, lived and stopped at home Squire Brown, J.P. for the +county of Berks, in a village near the foot of the White Horse range. +And here he dealt out justice and mercy in a rough way, and begat sons +and daughters, and hunted the fox, and grumbled at the badness of +the roads and the times. And his wife dealt out stockings, and calico +shirts, and smock frocks, and comforting drinks to the old folks with +the “rheumatiz,” and good counsel to all; and kept the coal and clothes' +clubs going, for yule-tide, when the bands of mummers came round, +dressed out in ribbons and coloured paper caps, and stamped round the +Squire's kitchen, repeating in true sing-song vernacular the legend of +St. George and his fight, and the ten-pound doctor, who plays his +part at healing the Saint--a relic, I believe, of the old Middle-age +mysteries. It was the first dramatic representation which greeted the +eyes of little Tom, who was brought down into the kitchen by his nurse +to witness it, at the mature age of three years. Tom was the eldest +child of his parents, and from his earliest babyhood exhibited the +family characteristics in great strength. He was a hearty, strong boy +from the first, given to fighting with and escaping from his nurse, and +fraternizing with all the village boys, with whom he made expeditions +all round the neighbourhood. And here, in the quiet old-fashioned +country village, under the shadow of the everlasting hills, Tom Brown +was reared, and never left it till he went first to school, when nearly +eight years of age, for in those days change of air twice a year was not +thought absolutely necessary for the health of all her Majesty's lieges. + +I have been credibly informed, and am inclined to believe, that the +various boards of directors of railway companies, those gigantic jobbers +and bribers, while quarrelling about everything else, agreed together +some ten years back to buy up the learned profession of medicine, body +and soul. To this end they set apart several millions of money, which +they continually distribute judiciously among the doctors, stipulating +only this one thing, that they shall prescribe change of air to every +patient who can pay, or borrow money to pay, a railway fare, and see +their prescription carried out. If it be not for this, why is it that +none of us can be well at home for a year together? It wasn't so twenty +years ago, not a bit of it. The Browns didn't go out of the country once +in five years. A visit to Reading or Abingdon twice a year, at assizes +or quarter sessions, which the Squire made on his horse with a pair +of saddle-bags containing his wardrobe, a stay of a day or two at some +country neighbour's, or an expedition to a county ball or the yeomanry +review, made up the sum of the Brown locomotion in most years. A stray +Brown from some distant county dropped in every now and then; or from +Oxford, on grave nag, an old don, contemporary of the Squire; and were +looked upon by the Brown household and the villagers with the same sort +of feeling with which we now regard a man who has crossed the Rocky +Mountains, or launched a boat on the Great Lake in Central Africa. The +White Horse Vale, remember, was traversed by no great road--nothing but +country parish roads, and these very bad. Only one coach ran there, and +this one only from Wantage to London, so that the western part of the +Vale was without regular means of moving on, and certainly didn't +seem to want them. There was the canal, by the way, which supplied the +country-side with coal, and up and down which continually went the long +barges, with the big black men lounging by the side of the horses along +the towing-path, and the women in bright-coloured handkerchiefs standing +in the sterns steering. Standing I say, but you could never see whether +they were standing or sitting, all but their heads and shoulders being +out of sight in the cozy little cabins which occupied some eight feet of +the stern, and which Tom Brown pictured to himself as the most desirable +of residences. His nurse told him that those good-natured-looking women +were in the constant habit of enticing children into the barges, and +taking them up to London and selling them, which Tom wouldn't +believe, and which made him resolve as soon as possible to accept the +oft-proffered invitation of these sirens to “young master” to come in +and have a ride. But as yet the nurse was too much for Tom. + +Yet why should I, after all, abuse the gadabout propensities of my +countrymen? We are a vagabond nation now, that's certain, for better +for worse. I am a vagabond; I have been away from home no less than five +distinct times in the last year. The Queen sets us the example: we are +moving on from top to bottom. Little dirty Jack, who abides in Clement's +Inn gateway, and blacks my boots for a penny, takes his month's +hop-picking every year as a matter of course. Why shouldn't he? I'm +delighted at it. I love vagabonds, only I prefer poor to rich ones. +Couriers and ladies'-maids, imperials and travelling carriages, are an +abomination unto me; I cannot away with them. But for dirty Jack, and +every good fellow who, in the words of the capital French song, moves +about, + + “Comme le limacon, + Portant tout son bagage, + Ses meubles, sa maison,” + +on his own back, why, good luck to them, and many a merry roadside +adventure, and steaming supper in the chimney corners of roadside inns, +Swiss chalets, Hottentot kraals, or wherever else they like to go. So, +having succeeded in contradicting myself in my first chapter (which +gives me great hopes that you will all go on, and think me a good fellow +notwithstanding my crotchets), I shall here shut up for the present, +and consider my ways; having resolved to “sar' it out,” as we say in the +Vale, “holus bolus” just as it comes, and then you'll probably get the +truth out of me. + + + +CHAPTER II--THE “VEAST.” + + “And the King commandeth and forbiddeth, that from + henceforth neither fairs nor markets be kept in Churchyards, + for the honour of the Church.”--STATUTES : 13 Edw. I. Stat. + II. cap. vi. + +As that venerable and learned poet (whose voluminous works we all think +it the correct thing to admire and talk about, but don't read often) +most truly says, “The child is father to the man;” a fortiori, +therefore, he must be father to the boy. So as we are going at any rate +to see Tom Brown through his boyhood, supposing we never get any farther +(which, if you show a proper sense of the value of this history, there +is no knowing but what we may), let us have a look at the life and +environments of the child in the quiet country village to which we were +introduced in the last chapter. + +Tom, as has been already said, was a robust and combative urchin, and at +the age of four began to struggle against the yoke and authority of his +nurse. That functionary was a good-hearted, tearful, scatter-brained +girl, lately taken by Tom's mother, Madam Brown, as she was called, from +the village school to be trained as nurserymaid. Madam Brown was a rare +trainer of servants, and spent herself freely in the profession; for +profession it was, and gave her more trouble by half than many people +take to earn a good income. Her servants were known and sought after for +miles round. Almost all the girls who attained a certain place in the +village school were taken by her, one or two at a time, as housemaids, +laundrymaids, nurserymaids, or kitchenmaids, and after a year or two's +training were started in life amongst the neighbouring families, with +good principles and wardrobes. One of the results of this system was the +perpetual despair of Mrs. Brown's cook and own maid, who no sooner had +a notable girl made to their hands than missus was sure to find a good +place for her and send her off, taking in fresh importations from the +school. Another was, that the house was always full of young girls, with +clean, shining faces, who broke plates and scorched linen, but made an +atmosphere of cheerful, homely life about the place, good for every one +who came within its influence. Mrs. Brown loved young people, and in +fact human creatures in general, above plates and linen. They were more +like a lot of elder children than servants, and felt to her more as a +mother or aunt than as a mistress. + +Tom's nurse was one who took in her instruction very slowly--she seemed +to have two left hands and no head; and so Mrs. Brown kept her on longer +than usual, that she might expend her awkwardness and forgetfulness upon +those who would not judge and punish her too strictly for them. + +Charity Lamb was her name. It had been the immemorial habit of the +village to christen children either by Bible names, or by those of the +cardinal and other virtues; so that one was for ever hearing in the +village street or on the green, shrill sounds of “Prudence! Prudence! +thee cum' out o' the gutter;” or, “Mercy! drat the girl, what bist thee +a-doin' wi' little Faith?” and there were Ruths, Rachels, Keziahs, +in every corner. The same with the boys: they were Benjamins, Jacobs, +Noahs, Enochs. I suppose the custom has come down from Puritan times. +There it is, at any rate, very strong still in the Vale. + +Well, from early morning till dewy eve, when she had it out of him in +the cold tub before putting him to bed, Charity and Tom were pitted +against one another. Physical power was as yet on the side of Charity, +but she hadn't a chance with him wherever headwork was wanted. This +war of independence began every morning before breakfast, when Charity +escorted her charge to a neighbouring farmhouse, which supplied the +Browns, and where, by his mother's wish, Master Tom went to drink whey +before breakfast. Tom had no sort of objection to whey, but he had a +decided liking for curds, which were forbidden as unwholesome; and there +was seldom a morning that he did not manage to secure a handful of hard +curds, in defiance of Charity and of the farmer's wife. The latter good +soul was a gaunt, angular woman, who, with an old black bonnet on the +top of her head, the strings dangling about her shoulders, and her +gown tucked through her pocket-holes, went clattering about the dairy, +cheese-room, and yard, in high pattens. Charity was some sort of niece +of the old lady's, and was consequently free of the farmhouse and +garden, into which she could not resist going for the purposes of gossip +and flirtation with the heir-apparent, who was a dawdling fellow, never +out at work as he ought to have been. The moment Charity had found her +cousin, or any other occupation, Tom would slip away; and in a minute +shrill cries would be heard from the dairy, “Charity, Charity, thee lazy +huzzy, where bist?” and Tom would break cover, hands and mouth full of +curds, and take refuge on the shaky surface of the great muck reservoir +in the middle of the yard, disturbing the repose of the great pigs. Here +he was in safety, as no grown person could follow without getting over +their knees; and the luckless Charity, while her aunt scolded her from +the dairy door, for being “allus hankering about arter our Willum, +instead of minding Master Tom,” would descend from threats to coaxing, +to lure Tom out of the muck, which was rising over his shoes, and would +soon tell a tale on his stockings, for which she would be sure to catch +it from missus's maid. + +Tom had two abettors, in the shape of a couple of old boys, Noah and +Benjamin by name, who defended him from Charity, and expended much time +upon his education. They were both of them retired servants of former +generations of the Browns. Noah Crooke was a keen, dry old man of almost +ninety, but still able to totter about. He talked to Tom quite as if he +were one of his own family, and indeed had long completely identified +the Browns with himself. In some remote age he had been the attendant +of a Miss Brown, and had conveyed her about the country on a pillion. He +had a little round picture of the identical gray horse, caparisoned +with the identical pillion, before which he used to do a sort of +fetish worship, and abuse turnpike-roads and carriages. He wore an old +full-bottomed wig, the gift of some dandy old Brown whom he had valeted +in the middle of last century, which habiliment Master Tom looked upon +with considerable respect, not to say fear; and indeed his whole feeling +towards Noah was strongly tainted with awe. And when the old gentleman +was gathered to his fathers, Tom's lamentation over him was not +unaccompanied by a certain joy at having seen the last of the wig. “Poor +old Noah, dead and gone,” said he; “Tom Brown so sorry. Put him in the +coffin, wig and all.” + +But old Benjy was young master's real delight and refuge. He was a +youth by the side of Noah, scarce seventy years old--a cheery, humorous, +kind-hearted old man, full of sixty years of Vale gossip, and of all +sorts of helpful ways for young and old, but above all for children. +It was he who bent the first pin with which Tom extracted his first +stickleback out of “Pebbly Brook,” the little stream which ran through +the village. The first stickleback was a splendid fellow, with fabulous +red and blue gills. Tom kept him in a small basin till the day of his +death, and became a fisherman from that day. Within a month from the +taking of the first stickleback, Benjy had carried off our hero to +the canal, in defiance of Charity; and between them, after a whole +afternoon's popjoying, they had caught three or four small, coarse fish +and a perch, averaging perhaps two and a half ounces each, which Tom +bore home in rapture to his mother as a precious gift, and which she +received like a true mother with equal rapture, instructing the cook +nevertheless, in a private interview, not to prepare the same for the +Squire's dinner. Charity had appealed against old Benjy in the meantime, +representing the dangers of the canal banks; but Mrs. Brown, seeing the +boy's inaptitude for female guidance, had decided in Benjy's favour, and +from thenceforth the old man was Tom's dry nurse. And as they sat by the +canal watching their little green-and-white float, Benjy would instruct +him in the doings of deceased Browns. How his grandfather, in the early +days of the great war, when there was much distress and crime in the +Vale, and the magistrates had been threatened by the mob, had ridden in +with a big stick in his hand, and held the petty sessions by himself. +How his great-uncle, the rector, had encountered and laid the last +ghost, who had frightened the old women, male and female, of the +parish out of their senses, and who turned out to be the blacksmith's +apprentice disguised in drink and a white sheet. It was Benjy, too, +who saddled Tom's first pony, and instructed him in the mysteries of +horsemanship, teaching him to throw his weight back and keep his hand +low, and who stood chuckling outside the door of the girls' school when +Tom rode his little Shetland into the cottage and round the table, where +the old dame and her pupils were seated at their work. + +Benjy himself was come of a family distinguished in the Vale for their +prowess in all athletic games. Some half-dozen of his brothers and +kinsmen had gone to the wars, of whom only one had survived to come +home, with a small pension, and three bullets in different parts of his +body; he had shared Benjy's cottage till his death, and had left him his +old dragoon's sword and pistol, which hung over the mantelpiece, flanked +by a pair of heavy single-sticks with which Benjy himself had won renown +long ago as an old gamester, against the picked men of Wiltshire and +Somersetshire, in many a good bout at the revels and pastimes of the +country-side. For he had been a famous back-swordman in his young days, +and a good wrestler at elbow and collar. + +Back-swording and wrestling were the most serious holiday pursuits of +the Vale--those by which men attained fame--and each village had its +champion. I suppose that, on the whole, people were less worked then +than they are now; at any rate, they seemed to have more time and energy +for the old pastimes. The great times for back-swording came round once +a year in each village; at the feast. The Vale “veasts” were not +the common statute feasts, but much more ancient business. They are +literally, so far as one can ascertain, feasts of the dedication--that +is, they were first established in the churchyard on the day on which +the village church was opened for public worship, which was on the wake +or festival of the patron saint, and have been held on the same day in +every year since that time. + +There was no longer any remembrance of why the “veast” had been +instituted, but nevertheless it had a pleasant and almost sacred +character of its own; for it was then that all the children of the +village, wherever they were scattered, tried to get home for a holiday +to visit their fathers and mothers and friends, bringing with them their +wages or some little gift from up the country for the old folk. Perhaps +for a day or two before, but at any rate on “veast day” and the day +after, in our village, you might see strapping, healthy young men and +women from all parts of the country going round from house to house in +their best clothes, and finishing up with a call on Madam Brown, +whom they would consult as to putting out their earnings to the best +advantage, or how best to expend the same for the benefit of the old +folk. Every household, however poor, managed to raise a “feast-cake” + and a bottle of ginger or raisin wine, which stood on the cottage table +ready for all comers, and not unlikely to make them remember feast-time, +for feast-cake is very solid, and full of huge raisins. Moreover, +feast-time was the day of reconciliation for the parish. If Job Higgins +and Noah Freeman hadn't spoken for the last six months, their “old +women” would be sure to get it patched up by that day. And though there +was a good deal of drinking and low vice in the booths of an evening, +it was pretty well confined to those who would have been doing the like, +“veast or no veast;” and on the whole, the effect was humanising and +Christian. In fact, the only reason why this is not the case still is +that gentlefolk and farmers have taken to other amusements, and have, as +usual, forgotten the poor. They don't attend the feasts themselves, and +call them disreputable; whereupon the steadiest of the poor leave them +also, and they become what they are called. Class amusements, be +they for dukes or ploughboys, always become nuisances and curses to a +country. The true charm of cricket and hunting is that they are still +more or less sociable and universal; there's a place for every man who +will come and take his part. + +No one in the village enjoyed the approach of “veast day” more than Tom, +in the year in which he was taken under old Benjy's tutelage. The feast +was held in a large green field at the lower end of the village. The +road to Farringdon ran along one side of it, and the brook by the side +of the road; and above the brook was another large, gentle, sloping +pasture-land, with a footpath running down it from the churchyard; and +the old church, the originator of all the mirth, towered up with its +gray walls and lancet windows, overlooking and sanctioning the whole, +though its own share therein had been forgotten. At the point where the +footpath crossed the brook and road, and entered on the field where the +feast was held, was a long, low roadside inn; and on the opposite side +of the field was a large white thatched farmhouse, where dwelt an old +sporting farmer, a great promoter of the revels. + +Past the old church, and down the footpath, pottered the old man and the +child hand-in-hand early on the afternoon of the day before the feast, +and wandered all round the ground, which was already being occupied +by the “cheap Jacks,” with their green-covered carts and marvellous +assortment of wares; and the booths of more legitimate small traders, +with their tempting arrays of fairings and eatables; and penny +peep-shows and other shows, containing pink-eyed ladies, and dwarfs, and +boa-constrictors, and wild Indians. But the object of most interest to +Benjy, and of course to his pupil also, was the stage of rough planks +some four feet high, which was being put up by the village carpenter for +the back-swording and wrestling. And after surveying the whole tenderly, +old Benjy led his charge away to the roadside inn, where he ordered a +glass of ale and a long pipe for himself, and discussed these unwonted +luxuries on the bench outside in the soft autumn evening with mine +host, another old servant of the Browns, and speculated with him on the +likelihood of a good show of old gamesters to contend for the morrow's +prizes, and told tales of the gallant bouts of forty years back, to +which Tom listened with all his ears and eyes. + +But who shall tell the joy of the next morning, when the church bells +were ringing a merry peal, and old Benjy appeared in the servants' hall, +resplendent in a long blue coat and brass buttons, and a pair of old +yellow buckskins and top-boots which he had cleaned for and inherited +from Tom's grandfather, a stout thorn stick in his hand, and a nosegay +of pinks and lavender in his buttonhole, and led away Tom in his best +clothes, and two new shillings in his breeches-pockets? Those two, at +any rate, look like enjoying the day's revel. + +They quicken their pace when they get into the churchyard, for already +they see the field thronged with country folk; the men in clean, white +smocks or velveteen or fustian coats, with rough plush waistcoats of +many colours, and the women in the beautiful, long scarlet cloak--the +usual out-door dress of west-country women in those days, and which +often descended in families from mother to daughter--or in new-fashioned +stuff shawls, which, if they would but believe it, don't become them +half so well. The air resounds with the pipe and tabor, and the drums +and trumpets of the showmen shouting at the doors of their caravans, +over which tremendous pictures of the wonders to be seen within hang +temptingly; while through all rises the shrill “root-too-too-too” of Mr. +Punch, and the unceasing pan-pipe of his satellite. + +“Lawk a' massey, Mr. Benjamin,” cries a stout, motherly woman in a red +cloak, as they enter the field, “be that you? Well, I never! You do look +purely. And how's the Squire, and madam, and the family?” + +Benjy graciously shakes hands with the speaker, who has left our village +for some years, but has come over for “veast” day on a visit to an old +gossip, and gently indicates the heir-apparent of the Browns. + +“Bless his little heart! I must gi' un a kiss.--Here, Susannah, +Susannah!” cries she, raising herself from the embrace, “come and see +Mr. Benjamin and young Master Tom.--You minds our Sukey, Mr. Benjamin; +she be growed a rare slip of a wench since you seen her, though her'll +be sixteen come Martinmas. I do aim to take her to see madam to get her +a place.” + +And Sukey comes bouncing away from a knot of old school-fellows, and +drops a curtsey to Mr. Benjamin. And elders come up from all parts to +salute Benjy, and girls who have been madam's pupils to kiss Master +Tom. And they carry him off to load him with fairings; and he returns +to Benjy, his hat and coat covered with ribbons, and his pockets crammed +with wonderful boxes which open upon ever new boxes, and popguns, and +trumpets, and apples, and gilt gingerbread from the stall of Angel +Heavens, sole vender thereof, whose booth groans with kings and queens, +and elephants and prancing steeds, all gleaming with gold. There +was more gold on Angel's cakes than there is ginger in those of +this degenerate age. Skilled diggers might yet make a fortune in the +churchyards of the Vale, by carefully washing the dust of the consumers +of Angel's gingerbread. Alas! he is with his namesakes, and his receipts +have, I fear, died with him. + +And then they inspect the penny peep-show--at least Tom does--while old +Benjy stands outside and gossips and walks up the steps, and enters the +mysterious doors of the pink-eyed lady and the Irish giant, who do not +by any means come up to their pictures; and the boa will not swallow his +rabbit, but there the rabbit is waiting to be swallowed; and what can +you expect for tuppence? We are easily pleased in the Vale. Now there +is a rush of the crowd, and a tinkling bell is heard, and shouts of +laughter; and Master Tom mounts on Benjy's shoulders, and beholds a +jingling match in all its glory. The games are begun, and this is the +opening of them. It is a quaint game, immensely amusing to look at; +and as I don't know whether it is used in your counties, I had better +describe it. A large roped ring is made, into which are introduced +a dozen or so of big boys and young men who mean to play; these are +carefully blinded and turned loose into the ring, and then a man is +introduced not blindfolded; with a bell hung round his neck, and his two +hands tied behind him. Of course every time he moves the bell must ring, +as he has no hand to hold it; and so the dozen blindfolded men have to +catch him. This they cannot always manage if he is a lively fellow, but +half of them always rush into the arms of the other half, or drive their +heads together, or tumble over; and then the crowd laughs vehemently, +and invents nicknames for them on the spur of the moment; and they, if +they be choleric, tear off the handkerchiefs which blind them, and not +unfrequently pitch into one another, each thinking that the other must +have run against him on purpose. It is great fun to look at a jingling +match certainly, and Tom shouts and jumps on old Benjy's shoulders at +the sight, until the old man feels weary, and shifts him to the strong +young shoulders of the groom, who has just got down to the fun. + +And now, while they are climbing the pole in another part of the field, +and muzzling in a flour-tub in another, the old farmer whose house, as +has been said, overlooks the field, and who is master of the revels, +gets up the steps on to the stage, and announces to all whom it may +concern that a half-sovereign in money will be forthcoming to the old +gamester who breaks most heads; to which the Squire and he have added a +new hat. + +The amount of the prize is sufficient to stimulate the men of the +immediate neighbourhood, but not enough to bring any very high talent +from a distance; so, after a glance or two round, a tall fellow, who is +a down shepherd, chucks his hat on to the stage and climbs up the steps, +looking rather sheepish. The crowd, of course, first cheer, and then +chaff as usual, as he picks up his hat and begins handling the sticks to +see which will suit him. + +“Wooy, Willum Smith, thee canst plaay wi' he arra daay,” says his +companion to the blacksmith's apprentice, a stout young fellow of +nineteen or twenty. Willum's sweetheart is in the “veast” somewhere, and +has strictly enjoined him not to get his head broke at back-swording, on +pain of her highest displeasure; but as she is not to be seen (the women +pretend not to like to see the backsword play, and keep away from the +stage), and as his hat is decidedly getting old, he chucks it on to the +stage, and follows himself, hoping that he will only have to break other +people's heads, or that, after all, Rachel won't really mind. + +Then follows the greasy cap lined with fur of a half-gipsy, poaching, +loafing fellow, who travels the Vale not for much good, I fancy: + + “For twenty times was Peter feared + For once that Peter was respected,” + +in fact. And then three or four other hats, including the glossy +castor of Joe Willis, the self-elected and would-be champion of +the neighbourhood, a well-to-do young butcher of twenty-eight or +thereabouts, and a great strapping fellow, with his full allowance of +bluster. This is a capital show of gamesters, considering the amount +of the prize; so, while they are picking their sticks and drawing their +lots, I think I must tell you, as shortly as I can, how the noble old +game of back-sword is played; for it is sadly gone out of late, even in +the Vale, and maybe you have never seen it. + +The weapon is a good stout ash stick with a large basket handle, heavier +and somewhat shorter than a common single-stick. The players are called +“old gamesters”--why, I can't tell you--and their object is simply +to break one another's heads; for the moment that blood runs an inch +anywhere above the eyebrow, the old gamester to whom it belongs is +beaten, and has to stop. A very slight blow with the sticks will fetch +blood, so that it is by no means a punishing pastime, if the men don't +play on purpose and savagely at the body and arms of their adversaries. +The old gamester going into action only takes off his hat and coat, and +arms himself with a stick; he then loops the fingers of his left hand in +a handkerchief or strap, which he fastens round his left leg, measuring +the length, so that when he draws it tight with his left elbow in the +air, that elbow shall just reach as high as his crown. Thus you see, so +long as he chooses to keep his left elbow up, regardless of cuts, he +has a perfect guard for the left side of his head. Then he advances his +right hand above and in front of his head, holding his stick across, so +that its point projects an inch or two over his left elbow; and thus +his whole head is completely guarded, and he faces his man armed in like +manner; and they stand some three feet apart, often nearer, and feint, +and strike, and return at one another's heads, until one cries “hold,” + or blood flows. In the first case they are allowed a minute's time; and +go on again; in the latter another pair of gamesters are called on. If +good men are playing, the quickness of the returns is marvellous: you +hear the rattle like that a boy makes drawing his stick along palings, +only heavier; and the closeness of the men in action to one another +gives it a strange interest, and makes a spell at back-swording a very +noble sight. + +They are all suited now with sticks, and Joe Willis and the gipsy man +have drawn the first lot. So the rest lean against the rails of the +stage, and Joe and the dark man meet in the middle, the boards having +been strewed with sawdust, Joe's white shirt and spotless drab breeches +and boots contrasting with the gipsy's coarse blue shirt and dirty green +velveteen breeches and leather gaiters. Joe is evidently turning up his +nose at the other, and half insulted at having to break his head. + +The gipsy is a tough, active fellow, but not very skilful with his +weapon, so that Joe's weight and strength tell in a minute; he is too +heavy metal for him. Whack, whack, whack, come his blows, breaking down +the gipsy's guard, and threatening to reach his head every moment. There +it is at last. “Blood, blood!” shout the spectators, as a thin stream +oozes out slowly from the roots of his hair, and the umpire calls to +them to stop. The gipsy scowls at Joe under his brows in no pleasant +manner, while Master Joe swaggers about, and makes attitudes, and thinks +himself, and shows that he thinks himself, the greatest man in the +field. + +Then follow several stout sets-to between the other candidates for the +new hat, and at last come the shepherd and Willum Smith. This is the +crack set-to of the day. They are both in famous wind, and there is no +crying “hold.” The shepherd is an old hand, and up to all the dodges. He +tries them one after another, and very nearly gets at Willum's head +by coming in near, and playing over his guard at the half-stick; but +somehow Willum blunders through, catching the stick on his shoulders, +neck, sides, every now and then, anywhere but on his head, and his +returns are heavy and straight, and he is the youngest gamester and a +favourite in the parish, and his gallant stand brings down shouts and +cheers, and the knowing ones think he'll win if he keeps steady; and +Tom, on the groom's shoulder, holds his hands together, and can hardly +breathe for excitement. + +Alas for Willum! His sweetheart, getting tired of female companionship, +has been hunting the booths to see where he can have got to, and now +catches sight of him on the stage in full combat. She flushes and turns +pale; her old aunt catches hold of her, saying, “Bless 'ee, child, +doan't 'ee go a'nigst it;” but she breaks away and runs towards the +stage calling his name. Willum keeps up his guard stoutly, but glances +for a moment towards the voice. No guard will do it, Willum, without the +eye. The shepherd steps round and strikes, and the point of his stick +just grazes Willum's forehead, fetching off the skin, and the blood +flows, and the umpire cries, “Hold!” and poor Willum's chance is up for +the day. But he takes it very well, and puts on his old hat and coat, +and goes down to be scolded by his sweetheart, and led away out of +mischief. Tom hears him say coaxingly, as he walks off,-- + +“Now doan't 'ee, Rachel! I wouldn't ha' done it, only I wanted summut +to buy 'ee a fairing wi', and I be as vlush o' money as a twod o' +feathers.” + +“Thee mind what I tells 'ee,” rejoins Rachel saucily, “and doan't 'ee +kep blethering about fairings.” + +Tom resolves in his heart to give Willum the remainder of his two +shillings after the back-swording. + +Joe Willis has all the luck to-day. His next bout ends in an easy +victory, while the shepherd has a tough job to break his second head; +and when Joe and the shepherd meet, and the whole circle expect and hope +to see him get a broken crown, the shepherd slips in the first round and +falls against the rails, hurting himself so that the old farmer will not +let him go on, much as he wishes to try; and that impostor Joe (for he +is certainly not the best man) struts and swaggers about the stage the +conquering gamester, though he hasn't had five minutes' really trying +play. + +Joe takes the new hat in his hand, and puts the money into it, and then, +as if a thought strikes him, and he doesn't think his victory quite +acknowledged down below, walks to each face of the stage, and looks +down, shaking the money, and chaffing, as how he'll stake hat and money +and another half-sovereign “agin any gamester as hasn't played already.” + Cunning Joe! he thus gets rid of Willum and the shepherd, who is quite +fresh again. + +No one seems to like the offer, and the umpire is just coming down, +when a queer old hat, something like a doctor of divinity's shovel, is +chucked on to the stage and an elderly, quiet man steps out, who has +been watching the play, saying he should like to cross a stick wi' the +prodigalish young chap. + +The crowd cheer, and begin to chaff Joe, who turns up his nose and +swaggers across to the sticks. “Imp'dent old wosbird!” says he; “I'll +break the bald head on un to the truth.” + +The old boy is very bald, certainly, and the blood will show fast enough +if you can touch him, Joe. + +He takes off his long-flapped coat, and stands up in a long-flapped +waistcoat, which Sir Roger de Coverley might have worn when it was new, +picks out a stick, and is ready for Master Joe, who loses no time, but +begins his old game, whack, whack, whack, trying to break down the old +man's guard by sheer strength. But it won't do; he catches every blow +close by the basket, and though he is rather stiff in his returns, +after a minute walks Joe about the stage, and is clearly a stanch old +gamester. Joe now comes in, and making the most of his height, tries to +get over the old man's guard at half-stick, by which he takes a smart +blow in the ribs and another on the elbow, and nothing more. And now he +loses wind and begins to puff, and the crowd laugh. “Cry 'hold,' Joe; +thee'st met thy match!” Instead of taking good advice and getting his +wind, Joe loses his temper, and strikes at the old man's body. + +“Blood, blood!” shout the crowd; “Joe's head's broke!” + +Who'd have thought it? How did it come? That body-blow left Joe's head +unguarded for a moment; and with one turn of the wrist the old gentleman +has picked a neat little bit of skin off the middle of his forehead; and +though he won't believe it, and hammers on for three more blows despite +of the shouts, is then convinced by the blood trickling into his eye. +Poor Joe is sadly crestfallen, and fumbles in his pocket for the other +half-sovereign, but the old gamester won't have it. “Keep thy money, +man, and gi's thy hand,” says he; and they shake hands. But the old +gamester gives the new hat to the shepherd, and, soon after, the +half-sovereign to Willum, who thereout decorates his sweetheart with +ribbons to his heart's content. + +“Who can a be?” “Wur do a cum from?” ask the crowd. And it soon flies +about that the old west-country champion, who played a tie with Shaw the +Lifeguardsman at “Vizes” twenty years before, has broken Joe Willis's +crown for him. + +How my country fair is spinning out! I see I must skip the wrestling; +and the boys jumping in sacks, and rolling wheelbarrows blindfolded; +and the donkey-race, and the fight which arose thereout, marring the +otherwise peaceful “veast;” and the frightened scurrying away of the +female feast-goers, and descent of Squire Brown, summoned by the wife of +one of the combatants to stop it; which he wouldn't start to do till he +had got on his top-boots. Tom is carried away by old Benjy, dog-tired +and surfeited with pleasure, as the evening comes on and the dancing +begins in the booths; and though Willum, and Rachel in her new ribbons, +and many another good lad and lass don't come away just yet, but have +a good step out, and enjoy it, and get no harm thereby, yet we, being +sober folk, will just stroll away up through the churchyard, and by the +old yew-tree, and get a quiet dish of tea and a parley with our gossips, +as the steady ones of our village do, and so to bed. + +That's the fair, true sketch, as far as it goes, of one of the larger +village feasts in the Vale of Berks, when I was a little boy. They +are much altered for the worse, I am told. I haven't been at one these +twenty years, but I have been at the statute fairs in some west-country +towns, where servants are hired, and greater abominations cannot be +found. What village feasts have come to, I fear, in many cases, may +be read in the pages of “Yeast” (though I never saw one so bad--thank +God!). + +Do you want to know why? It is because, as I said before, gentlefolk and +farmers have left off joining or taking an interest in them. They don't +either subscribe to the prizes, or go down and enjoy the fun. + +Is this a good or a bad sign? I hardly know. Bad, sure enough, if it +only arises from the further separation of classes consequent on twenty +years of buying cheap and selling dear, and its accompanying overwork; +or because our sons and daughters have their hearts in London club-life, +or so-called “society,” instead of in the old English home-duties; +because farmers' sons are apeing fine gentlemen, and farmers' daughters +caring more to make bad foreign music than good English cheeses. Good, +perhaps, if it be that the time for the old “veast” has gone by; that +it is no longer the healthy, sound expression of English country +holiday-making; that, in fact, we, as a nation, have got beyond it, +and are in a transition state, feeling for and soon likely to find some +better substitute. + +Only I have just got this to say before I quit the text. Don't let +reformers of any sort think that they are going really to lay hold of +the working boys and young men of England by any educational grapnel +whatever, which isn't some bona fide equivalent for the games of the +old country “veast” in it; something to put in the place of the +back-swording and wrestling and racing; something to try the muscles +of men's bodies, and the endurance of their hearts, and to make them +rejoice in their strength. In all the new-fangled comprehensive plans +which I see, this is all left out; and the consequence is, that your +great mechanics' institutes end in intellectual priggism, and your +Christian young men's societies in religious Pharisaism. + +Well, well, we must bide our time. Life isn't all beer and skittles; +but beer and skittles, or something better of the same sort, must form +a good part of every Englishman's education. If I could only drive this +into the heads of you rising parliamentary lords, and young swells +who “have your ways made for you,” as the saying is, you, who frequent +palaver houses and West-end clubs, waiting always ready to strap +yourselves on to the back of poor dear old John, as soon as the present +used-up lot (your fathers and uncles), who sit there on the great +parliamentary-majorities' pack-saddle, and make believe they're guiding +him with their red-tape bridle, tumble, or have to be lifted off! + +I don't think much of you yet--I wish I could--though you do go talking +and lecturing up and down the country to crowded audiences, and are +busy with all sorts of philanthropic intellectualism, and circulating +libraries and museums, and Heaven only knows what besides, and try to +make us think, through newspaper reports, that you are, even as we, of +the working classes. But bless your hearts, we “ain't so green,” though +lots of us of all sorts toady you enough certainly, and try to make you +think so. + +I'll tell you what to do now: instead of all this trumpeting and fuss, +which is only the old parliamentary-majority dodge over again, just you +go, each of you (you've plenty of time for it, if you'll only give +up t'other line), and quietly make three or four friends--real +friends--among us. You'll find a little trouble in getting at the right +sort, because such birds don't come lightly to your lure; but found +they may be. Take, say, two out of the professions, lawyer, parson, +doctor--which you will; one out of trade; and three or four out of the +working classes--tailors, engineers, carpenters, engravers. There's +plenty of choice. Let them be men of your own ages, mind, and ask +them to your homes; introduce them to your wives and sisters, and get +introduced to theirs; give them good dinners, and talk to them about +what is really at the bottom of your hearts; and box, and run, and row +with them, when you have a chance. Do all this honestly as man to +man, and by the time you come to ride old John, you'll be able to do +something more than sit on his back, and may feel his mouth with some +stronger bridle than a red-tape one. + +Ah, if you only would! But you have got too far out of the right rut, I +fear. Too much over-civilization, and the deceitfulness of riches. It is +easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. More's the pity. I +never came across but two of you who could value a man wholly and solely +for what was in him--who thought themselves verily and indeed of the +same flesh and blood as John Jones the attorney's clerk, and Bill Smith +the costermonger, and could act as if they thought so. + + + +CHAPTER III--SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES. + + +Poor old Benjy! The “rheumatiz” has much to answer for all through +English country-sides, but it never played a scurvier trick than in +laying thee by the heels, when thou wast yet in a green old age. The +enemy, which had long been carrying on a sort of border warfare, and +trying his strength against Benjy's on the battlefield of his hands and +legs, now, mustering all his forces, began laying siege to the citadel, +and overrunning the whole country. Benjy was seized in the back and +loins; and though he made strong and brave fight, it was soon clear +enough that all which could be beaten of poor old Benjy would have to +give in before long. + +It was as much as he could do now, with the help of his big stick and +frequent stops, to hobble down to the canal with Master Tom, and bait +his hook for him, and sit and watch his angling, telling him quaint old +country stories; and when Tom had no sport, and detecting a rat some +hundred yards or so off along the bank, would rush off with Toby the +turnspit terrier, his other faithful companion, in bootless pursuit, he +might have tumbled in and been drowned twenty times over before Benjy +could have got near him. + +Cheery and unmindful of himself, as Benjy was, this loss of locomotive +power bothered him greatly. He had got a new object in his old age, and +was just beginning to think himself useful again in the world. He feared +much, too, lest Master Tom should fall back again into the hands of +Charity and the women. So he tried everything he could think of to get +set up. He even went an expedition to the dwelling of one of those queer +mortals, who--say what we will, and reason how we will--do cure simple +people of diseases of one kind or another without the aid of physic, +and so get to themselves the reputation of using charms, and inspire for +themselves and their dwellings great respect, not to say fear, amongst a +simple folk such as the dwellers in the Vale of White Horse. Where this +power, or whatever else it may be, descends upon the shoulders of a +man whose ways are not straight, he becomes a nuisance to the +neighbourhood--a receiver of stolen goods, giver of love-potions, and +deceiver of silly women--the avowed enemy of law and order, of justices +of the peace, head-boroughs, and gamekeepers,--such a man, in fact, as +was recently caught tripping, and deservedly dealt with by the Leeds +justices, for seducing a girl who had come to him to get back a +faithless lover, and has been convicted of bigamy since then. Sometimes, +however, they are of quite a different stamp--men who pretend to +nothing, and are with difficulty persuaded to exercise their occult arts +in the simplest cases. + +Of this latter sort was old Farmer Ives, as he was called, the “wise +man” to whom Benjy resorted (taking Tom with him as usual), in the early +spring of the year next after the feast described in the last chapter. +Why he was called “farmer” I cannot say, unless it be that he was the +owner of a cow, a pig or two, and some poultry, which he maintained +on about an acre of land inclosed from the middle of a wild common, on +which probably his father had squatted before lords of manors looked as +keenly after their rights as they do now. Here he had lived no one knew +how long, a solitary man. It was often rumoured that he was to be turned +out and his cottage pulled down, but somehow it never came to pass; and +his pigs and cow went grazing on the common, and his geese hissed at the +passing children and at the heels of the horse of my lord's steward, who +often rode by with a covetous eye on the inclosure still unmolested. His +dwelling was some miles from our village; so Benjy, who was half ashamed +of his errand, and wholly unable to walk there, had to exercise much +ingenuity to get the means of transporting himself and Tom thither +without exciting suspicion. However, one fine May morning he managed to +borrow the old blind pony of our friend the publican, and Tom persuaded +Madam Brown to give him a holiday to spend with old Benjy, and to lend +them the Squire's light cart, stored with bread and cold meat and a +bottle of ale. And so the two in high glee started behind old Dobbin, +and jogged along the deep-rutted plashy roads, which had not been mended +after their winter's wear, towards the dwelling of the wizard. About +noon they passed the gate which opened on to the large common, and old +Dobbin toiled slowly up the hill, while Benjy pointed out a little deep +dingle on the left, out of which welled a tiny stream. As they crept +up the hill the tops of a few birch-trees came in sight, and blue smoke +curling up through their delicate light boughs; and then the little +white thatched home and inclosed ground of Farmer Ives, lying cradled in +the dingle, with the gay gorse common rising behind and on both sides; +while in front, after traversing a gentle slope, the eye might travel +for miles and miles over the rich vale. They now left the main road and +struck into a green track over the common marked lightly with wheel and +horse-shoe, which led down into the dingle and stopped at the rough gate +of Farmer Ives. Here they found the farmer, an iron-gray old man, with a +bushy eyebrow and strong aquiline nose, busied in one of his vocations. +He was a horse and cow doctor, and was tending a sick beast which had +been sent up to be cured. Benjy hailed him as an old friend, and he +returned the greeting cordially enough, looking however hard for a +moment both at Benjy and Tom, to see whether there was more in their +visit than appeared at first sight. It was a work of some difficulty and +danger for Benjy to reach the ground, which, however, he managed to do +without mishap; and then he devoted himself to unharnessing Dobbin and +turning him out for a graze (“a run” one could not say of that virtuous +steed) on the common. This done, he extricated the cold provisions from +the cart, and they entered the farmer's wicket; and he, shutting up the +knife with which he was taking maggots out of the cow's back and sides, +accompanied them towards the cottage. A big old lurcher got up slowly +from the door-stone, stretching first one hind leg and then the other, +and taking Tom's caresses and the presence of Toby, who kept, however, +at a respectful distance, with equal indifference. + +“Us be cum to pay 'ee a visit. I've a been long minded to do't for old +sake's sake, only I vinds I dwon't get about now as I'd used to't. I be +so plaguy bad wi' th' rheumatiz in my back.” Benjy paused, in hopes +of drawing the farmer at once on the subject of his ailments without +further direct application. + +“Ah, I see as you bean't quite so lissom as you was,” replied the +farmer, with a grim smile, as he lifted the latch of his door; “we +bean't so young as we was, nother on us, wuss luck.” + +The farmer's cottage was very like those of the better class of +peasantry in general. A snug chimney corner with two seats, and a small +carpet on the hearth, an old flint gun and a pair of spurs over the +fireplace, a dresser with shelves on which some bright pewter plates +and crockeryware were arranged, an old walnut table, a few chairs and +settles, some framed samplers, and an old print or two, and a bookcase +with some dozen volumes on the walls, a rack with flitches of bacon, and +other stores fastened to the ceiling, and you have the best part of the +furniture. No sign of occult art is to be seen, unless the bundles of +dried herbs hanging to the rack and in the ingle and the row of labelled +phials on one of the shelves betoken it. + +Tom played about with some kittens who occupied the hearth, and with a +goat who walked demurely in at the open door--while their host and Benjy +spread the table for dinner--and was soon engaged in conflict with the +cold meat, to which he did much honour. The two old men's talk was of +old comrades and their deeds, mute inglorious Miltons of the Vale, and +of the doings thirty years back, which didn't interest him much, except +when they spoke of the making of the canal; and then indeed he began to +listen with all his ears, and learned, to his no small wonder, that his +dear and wonderful canal had not been there always--was not, in fact, +so old as Benjy or Farmer Ives, which caused a strange commotion in his +small brain. + +After dinner Benjy called attention to a wart which Tom had on the +knuckles of his hand, and which the family doctor had been trying his +skill on without success, and begged the farmer to charm it away. Farmer +Ives looked at it, muttered something or another over it, and cut +some notches in a short stick, which he handed to Benjy, giving him +instructions for cutting it down on certain days, and cautioning Tom not +to meddle with the wart for a fortnight. And then they strolled out and +sat on a bench in the sun with their pipes, and the pigs came up and +grunted sociably and let Tom scratch them; and the farmer, seeing how he +liked animals, stood up and held his arms in the air, and gave a call, +which brought a flock of pigeons wheeling and dashing through the +birch-trees. They settled down in clusters on the farmer's arms and +shoulders, making love to him and scrambling over one another's backs +to get to his face; and then he threw them all off, and they fluttered +about close by, and lighted on him again and again when he held up his +arms. All the creatures about the place were clean and fearless, quite +unlike their relations elsewhere; and Tom begged to be taught how to +make all the pigs and cows and poultry in our village tame, at which the +farmer only gave one of his grim chuckles. + +It wasn't till they were just ready to go, and old Dobbin was harnessed, +that Benjy broached the subject of his rheumatism again, detailing his +symptoms one by one. Poor old boy! He hoped the farmer could charm it +away as easily as he could Tom's wart, and was ready with equal faith to +put another notched stick into his other pocket, for the cure of his +own ailments. The physician shook his head, but nevertheless produced a +bottle, and handed it to Benjy, with instructions for use. “Not as 't'll +do 'ee much good--leastways I be afeard not,” shading his eyes with his +hand, and looking up at them in the cart. “There's only one thing as I +knows on as'll cure old folks like you and I o' th' rheumatiz.” + +“Wot be that then, farmer?” inquired Benjy. + +“Churchyard mould,” said the old iron-gray man, with another chuckle. +And so they said their good-byes and went their ways home. Tom's wart +was gone in a fortnight, but not so Benjy's rheumatism, which laid him +by the heels more and more. And though Tom still spent many an hour with +him, as he sat on a bench in the sunshine, or by the chimney corner when +it was cold, he soon had to seek elsewhere for his regular companions. + +Tom had been accustomed often to accompany his mother in her visits to +the cottages, and had thereby made acquaintance with many of the village +boys of his own age. There was Job Rudkin, son of widow Rudkin, the most +bustling woman in the parish. How she could ever have had such a stolid +boy as Job for a child must always remain a mystery. The first time +Tom went to their cottage with his mother, Job was not indoors; but he +entered soon after, and stood with both hands in his pockets, staring +at Tom. Widow Rudkin, who would have had to cross madam to get at +young Hopeful--a breach of good manners of which she was wholly +incapable--began a series of pantomime signs, which only puzzled him; +and at last, unable to contain herself longer, burst out with, “Job! +Job! where's thy cap?” + +“What! bean't 'ee on ma head, mother?” replied Job, slowly extricating +one hand from a pocket, and feeling for the article in question; which +he found on his head sure enough, and left there, to his mother's horror +and Tom's great delight. + +Then there was poor Jacob Dodson, the half-witted boy, who ambled about +cheerfully, undertaking messages and little helpful odds and ends for +every one, which, however, poor Jacob managed always hopelessly to +imbrangle. Everything came to pieces in his hands, and nothing would +stop in his head. They nicknamed him Jacob Doodle-calf. + +But above all there was Harry Winburn, the quickest and best boy in the +parish. He might be a year older than Tom, but was very little bigger, +and he was the Crichton of our village boys. He could wrestle and climb +and run better than all the rest, and learned all that the schoolmaster +could teach him faster than that worthy at all liked. He was a boy to +be proud of, with his curly brown hair, keen gray eye, straight active +figure, and little ears and hands and feet, “as fine as a lord's,” as +Charity remarked to Tom one day, talking, as usual, great nonsense. +Lords' hands and ears and feet are just as ugly as other folk's when +they are children, as any one may convince himself if he likes to look. +Tight boots and gloves, and doing nothing with them, I allow make a +difference by the time they are twenty. + +Now that Benjy was laid on the shelf, and his young brothers were still +under petticoat government, Tom, in search of companions, began to +cultivate the village boys generally more and more. Squire Brown, be it +said, was a true-blue Tory to the backbone, and believed honestly that +the powers which be were ordained of God, and that loyalty and steadfast +obedience were men's first duties. Whether it were in consequence or in +spite of his political creed, I do not mean to give an opinion, though +I have one; but certain it is that he held therewith divers social +principles not generally supposed to be true blue in colour. Foremost of +these, and the one which the Squire loved to propound above all others, +was the belief that a man is to be valued wholly and solely for that +which he is in himself, for that which stands up in the four fleshly +walls of him, apart from clothes, rank, fortune, and all externals +whatsoever. Which belief I take to be a wholesome corrective of all +political opinions, and, if held sincerely, to make all opinions equally +harmless, whether they be blue, red, or green. As a necessary corollary +to this belief, Squire Brown held further that it didn't matter a +straw whether his son associated with lords' sons or ploughmen's sons, +provided they were brave and honest. He himself had played football +and gone bird-nesting with the farmers whom he met at vestry and +the labourers who tilled their fields, and so had his father and +grandfather, with their progenitors. So he encouraged Tom in his +intimacy with the boys of the village, and forwarded it by all means +in his power, and gave them the run of a close for a playground, and +provided bats and balls and a football for their sports. + +Our village was blessed amongst other things with a well-endowed school. +The building stood by itself, apart from the master's house, on an angle +of ground where three roads met--an old gray stone building with a steep +roof and mullioned windows. On one of the opposite angles stood Squire +Brown's stables and kennel, with their backs to the road, over which +towered a great elm-tree; on the third stood the village carpenter and +wheelwright's large open shop, and his house and the schoolmaster's, +with long low eaves, under which the swallows built by scores. + +The moment Tom's lessons were over, he would now get him down to this +corner by the stables, and watch till the boys came out of school. He +prevailed on the groom to cut notches for him in the bark of the elm +so that he could climb into the lower branches; and there he would sit +watching the school door, and speculating on the possibility of turning +the elm into a dwelling-place for himself and friends, after the manner +of the Swiss Family Robinson. But the school hours were long and Tom's +patience short, so that he soon began to descend into the street, and go +and peep in at the school door and the wheelwright's shop, and look out +for something to while away the time. Now the wheelwright was a choleric +man, and one fine afternoon, returning from a short absence, found Tom +occupied with one of his pet adzes, the edge of which was fast vanishing +under our hero's care. A speedy flight saved Tom from all but one sound +cuff on the ears; but he resented this unjustifiable interruption of his +first essays at carpentering, and still more the further proceedings +of the wheelwright, who cut a switch, and hung it over the door of his +workshop, threatening to use it upon Tom if he came within twenty yards +of his gate. So Tom, to retaliate, commenced a war upon the swallows who +dwelt under the wheelwright's eaves, whom he harassed with sticks +and stones; and being fleeter of foot than his enemy, escaped all +punishment, and kept him in perpetual anger. Moreover, his presence +about the school door began to incense the master, as the boys in that +neighbourhood neglected their lessons in consequence; and more than once +he issued into the porch, rod in hand, just as Tom beat a hasty retreat. +And he and the wheelwright, laying their heads together, resolved to +acquaint the Squire with Tom's afternoon occupations; but in order to +do it with effect, determined to take him captive and lead him away to +judgment fresh from his evil doings. This they would have found some +difficulty in doing, had Tom continued the war single-handed, or rather +single-footed, for he would have taken to the deepest part of Pebbly +Brook to escape them; but, like other active powers, he was ruined by +his alliances. Poor Jacob Doodle-calf could not go to the school with +the other boys, and one fine afternoon, about three o'clock (the school +broke up at four), Tom found him ambling about the street, and pressed +him into a visit to the school-porch. Jacob, always ready to do what he +was asked, consented, and the two stole down to the school together. +Tom first reconnoitred the wheelwright's shop; and seeing no signs +of activity, thought all safe in that quarter, and ordered at once an +advance of all his troops upon the schoolporch. The door of the school +was ajar, and the boys seated on the nearest bench at once recognized +and opened a correspondence with the invaders. Tom, waxing bold, kept +putting his head into the school and making faces at the master when +his back was turned. Poor Jacob, not in the least comprehending the +situation, and in high glee at finding himself so near the school, which +he had never been allowed to enter, suddenly, in a fit of enthusiasm, +pushed by Tom, and ambling three steps into the school, stood there, +looking round him and nodding with a self-approving smile. The master, +who was stooping over a boy's slate, with his back to the door, became +aware of something unusual, and turned quickly round. Tom rushed at +Jacob, and began dragging him back by his smock-frock, and the master +made at them, scattering forms and boys in his career. Even now they +might have escaped, but that in the porch, barring retreat, appeared the +crafty wheelwright, who had been watching all their proceedings. So they +were seized, the school dismissed, and Tom and Jacob led away to Squire +Brown as lawful prize, the boys following to the gate in groups, and +speculating on the result. + +The Squire was very angry at first, but the interview, by Tom's +pleading, ended in a compromise. Tom was not to go near the school till +three o'clock, and only then if he had done his own lessons well, in +which case he was to be the bearer of a note to the master from Squire +Brown; and the master agreed in such case to release ten or twelve of +the best boys an hour before the time of breaking up, to go off and play +in the close. The wheelwright's adzes and swallows were to be for ever +respected; and that hero and the master withdrew to the servants' hall +to drink the Squire's health, well satisfied with their day's work. + +The second act of Tom's life may now be said to have begun. The war of +independence had been over for some time: none of the women now--not +even his mother's maid--dared offer to help him in dressing or +washing. Between ourselves, he had often at first to run to Benjy in an +unfinished state of toilet. Charity and the rest of them seemed to take +a delight in putting impossible buttons and ties in the middle of his +back; but he would have gone without nether integuments altogether, +sooner than have had recourse to female valeting. He had a room to +himself, and his father gave him sixpence a week pocket-money. All +this he had achieved by Benjy's advice and assistance. But now he had +conquered another step in life--the step which all real boys so long +to make: he had got amongst his equals in age and strength, and could +measure himself with other boys; he lived with those whose pursuits and +wishes and ways were the same in kind as his own. + +The little governess who had lately been installed in the house found +her work grow wondrously easy, for Tom slaved at his lessons, in order +to make sure of his note to the schoolmaster. So there were very few +days in the week in which Tom and the village boys were not playing +in their close by three o'clock. Prisoner's base, rounders, +high-cock-a-lorum, cricket, football--he was soon initiated into the +delights of them all; and though most of the boys were older than +himself, he managed to hold his own very well. He was naturally active +and strong, and quick of eye and hand, and had the advantage of light +shoes and well-fitting dress, so that in a short time he could run and +jump and climb with any of them. + +They generally finished their regular games half an hour or so before +tea-time, and then began trials of skill and strength in many ways. Some +of them would catch the Shetland pony who was turned out in the field, +and get two or three together on his back, and the little rogue, +enjoying the fun, would gallop off for fifty yards, and then turn round, +or stop short and shoot them on to the turf, and then graze quietly on +till he felt another load; others played at peg-top or marbles, while +a few of the bigger ones stood up for a bout at wrestling. Tom at first +only looked on at this pastime, but it had peculiar attractions for him, +and he could not long keep out of it. Elbow and collar wrestling, as +practised in the western counties, was, next to back-swording, the way +to fame for the youth of the Vale; and all the boys knew the rules of +it, and were more or less expert. But Job Rudkin and Harry Winburn were +the stars--the former stiff and sturdy, with legs like small towers; the +latter pliant as indiarubber and quick as lightning. Day after day they +stood foot to foot, and offered first one hand and then the other, and +grappled and closed, and swayed and strained, till a well-aimed crook of +the heel or thrust of the loin took effect, and a fair back-fall ended +the matter. And Tom watched with all his eyes, and first challenged one +of the less scientific, and threw him; and so one by one wrestled his +way up to the leaders. + +Then indeed for months he had a poor time of it; it was not long indeed +before he could manage to keep his legs against Job, for that hero was +slow of offence, and gained his victories chiefly by allowing others to +throw themselves against his immovable legs and loins. But Harry Winburn +was undeniably his master; from the first clutch of hands when they +stood up, down to the last trip which sent him on to his back on the +turf, he felt that Harry knew more and could do more than he. Luckily +Harry's bright unconsciousness and Tom's natural good temper kept them +from quarrelling; and so Tom worked on and on, and trod more and more +nearly on Harry's heels, and at last mastered all the dodges and falls +except one. This one was Harry's own particular invention and pet; he +scarcely ever used it except when hard pressed, but then out it came, +and as sure as it did, over went poor Tom. He thought about that fall +at his meals, in his walks, when he lay awake in bed, in his dreams, but +all to no purpose, until Harry one day in his open way suggested to him +how he thought it should be met; and in a week from that time the boys +were equal, save only the slight difference of strength in Harry's +favour, which some extra ten months of age gave. Tom had often +afterwards reason to be thankful for that early drilling, and above all, +for having mastered Harry Winburn's fall. + +Besides their home games, on Saturdays the boys would wander all over +the neighbourhood; sometimes to the downs, or up to the camp, where +they cut their initials out in the springy turf, and watched the hawks +soaring, and the “peert” bird, as Harry Winburn called the gray plover, +gorgeous in his wedding feathers; and so home, racing down the Manger +with many a roll among the thistles, or through Uffington Wood to watch +the fox cubs playing in the green rides; sometimes to Rosy Brook, to cut +long whispering reeds which grew there, to make pan-pipes of; sometimes +to Moor Mills, where was a piece of old forest land, with short browsed +turf and tufted brambly thickets stretching under the oaks, amongst +which rumour declared that a raven, last of his race, still lingered; +or to the sand-hills, in vain quest of rabbits; and bird-nesting in the +season, anywhere and everywhere. + +The few neighbours of the Squire's own rank every now and then would +shrug their shoulders as they drove or rode by a party of boys with Tom +in the middle, carrying along bulrushes or whispering reeds, or great +bundles of cowslip and meadow-sweet, or young starlings or magpies, or +other spoil of wood, brook, or meadow; and Lawyer Red-tape might mutter +to Squire Straight-back at the Board that no good would come of the +young Browns, if they were let run wild with all the dirty village boys, +whom the best farmers' sons even would not play with. And the squire +might reply with a shake of his head that his sons only mixed with +their equals, and never went into the village without the governess or +a footman. But, luckily, Squire Brown was full as stiffbacked as +his neighbours, and so went on his own way; and Tom and his younger +brothers, as they grew up, went on playing with the village boys, +without the idea of equality or inequality (except in wrestling, +running, and climbing) ever entering their heads; as it doesn't till +it's put there by Jack Nastys or fine ladies' maids. + +I don't mean to say it would be the case in all villages, but it +certainly was so in this one: the village boys were full as manly and +honest, and certainly purer, than those in a higher rank; and Tom got +more harm from his equals in his first fortnight at a private school, +where he went when he was nine years old, than he had from his village +friends from the day he left Charity's apron-strings. + +Great was the grief amongst the village school-boys when Tom drove off +with the Squire, one August morning, to meet the coach on his way to +school. Each of them had given him some little present of the best that +he had, and his small private box was full of peg-taps, white marbles +(called “alley-taws” in the Vale), screws, birds' eggs, whip-cord, +jews-harps, and other miscellaneous boys' wealth. Poor Jacob +Doodle-calf, in floods of tears, had pressed upon him with spluttering +earnestness his lame pet hedgehog (he had always some poor broken-down +beast or bird by him); but this Tom had been obliged to refuse, by the +Squire's order. He had given them all a great tea under the big elm in +their playground, for which Madam Brown had supplied the biggest cake +ever seen in our village; and Tom was really as sorry to leave them +as they to lose him, but his sorrow was not unmixed with the pride and +excitement of making a new step in life. + +And this feeling carried him through his first parting with his mother +better than could have been expected. Their love was as fair and whole +as human love can be--perfect self-sacrifice on the one side meeting +a young and true heart on the other. It is not within the scope of my +book, however, to speak of family relations, or I should have much to +say on the subject of English mothers--ay, and of English fathers, and +sisters, and brothers too. Neither have I room to speak of our private +schools. What I have to say is about public schools--those much-abused +and much-belauded institutions peculiar to England. So we must hurry +through Master Tom's year at a private school as fast as we can. + +It was a fair average specimen, kept by a gentleman, with another +gentleman as second master; but it was little enough of the real work +they did--merely coming into school when lessons were prepared and all +ready to be heard. The whole discipline of the school out of lesson +hours was in the hands of the two ushers, one of whom was always with +the boys in their playground, in the school, at meals--in fact, at all +times and every where, till they were fairly in bed at night. + +Now the theory of private schools is (or was) constant supervision out +of school--therein differing fundamentally from that of public schools. + +It may be right or wrong; but if right, this supervision surely ought +to be the especial work of the head-master, the responsible person. The +object of all schools is not to ram Latin and Greek into boys, but to +make them good English boys, good future citizens; and by far the most +important part of that work must be done, or not done, out of school +hours. To leave it, therefore, in the hands of inferior men, is just +giving up the highest and hardest part of the work of education. Were I +a private school-master, I should say, Let who will hear the boys their +lessons, but let me live with them when they are at play and rest. + +The two ushers at Tom's first school were not gentlemen, and very poorly +educated, and were only driving their poor trade of usher to get such +living as they could out of it. They were not bad men, but had little +heart for their work, and of course were bent on making it as easy as +possible. One of the methods by which they endeavoured to accomplish +this was by encouraging tale-bearing, which had become a frightfully +common vice in the school in consequence, and had sapped all the +foundations of school morality. Another was, by favouring grossly the +biggest boys, who alone could have given them much trouble; whereby +those young gentlemen became most abominable tyrants, oppressing the +little boys in all the small mean ways which prevail in private schools. + +Poor little Tom was made dreadfully unhappy in his first week by a +catastrophe which happened to his first letter home. With huge labour he +had, on the very evening of his arrival, managed to fill two sides of +a sheet of letter-paper with assurances of his love for dear mamma, his +happiness at school, and his resolves to do all she would wish. This +missive, with the help of the boy who sat at the desk next him, also a +new arrival, he managed to fold successfully; but this done, they were +sadly put to it for means of sealing. Envelopes were then unknown; +they had no wax, and dared not disturb the stillness of the evening +school-room by getting up and going to ask the usher for some. At length +Tom's friend, being of an ingenious turn of mind, suggested sealing with +ink; and the letter was accordingly stuck down with a blob of ink, and +duly handed by Tom, on his way to bed, to the housekeeper to be posted. +It was not till four days afterwards that the good dame sent for him, +and produced the precious letter and some wax, saying, “O Master Brown, +I forgot to tell you before, but your letter isn't sealed.” Poor Tom +took the wax in silence and sealed his letter, with a huge lump rising +in his throat during the process, and then ran away to a quiet corner of +the playground, and burst into an agony of tears. The idea of his mother +waiting day after day for the letter he had promised her at once, and +perhaps thinking him forgetful of her, when he had done all in his power +to make good his promise, was as bitter a grief as any which he had +to undergo for many a long year. His wrath, then, was proportionately +violent when he was aware of two boys, who stopped close by him, and one +of whom, a fat gaby of a fellow, pointed at him and called him “Young +mammy-sick!” Whereupon Tom arose, and giving vent thus to his grief and +shame and rage, smote his derider on the nose; and made it bleed; +which sent that young worthy howling to the usher, who reported Tom for +violent and unprovoked assault and battery. Hitting in the face was a +felony punishable with flogging, other hitting only a misdemeanour--a +distinction not altogether clear in principle. Tom, however, escaped the +penalty by pleading primum tempus; and having written a second letter +to his mother, inclosing some forget-me-nots, which he picked on their +first half-holiday walk, felt quite happy again, and began to enjoy +vastly a good deal of his new life. + +These half-holiday walks were the great events of the week. The whole +fifty boys started after dinner with one of the ushers for Hazeldown, +which was distant some mile or so from the school. Hazeldown measured +some three miles round, and in the neighbourhood were several woods full +of all manner of birds and butterflies. The usher walked slowly round +the down with such boys as liked to accompany him; the rest scattered +in all directions, being only bound to appear again when the usher +had completed his round, and accompany him home. They were forbidden, +however, to go anywhere except on the down and into the woods; the +village had been especially prohibited, where huge bull's-eyes and +unctuous toffy might be procured in exchange for coin of the realm. + +Various were the amusements to which the boys then betook themselves. At +the entrance of the down there was a steep hillock, like the barrows of +Tom's own downs. This mound was the weekly scene of terrific combats, +at a game called by the queer name of “mud-patties.” The boys who played +divided into sides under different leaders, and one side occupied the +mound. Then, all parties having provided themselves with many sods of +turf, cut with their bread-and-cheese knives, the side which remained +at the bottom proceeded to assault the mound, advancing up on all sides +under cover of a heavy fire of turfs, and then struggling for victory +with the occupants, which was theirs as soon as they could, even for a +moment, clear the summit, when they in turn became the besieged. It +was a good, rough, dirty game, and of great use in counteracting the +sneaking tendencies of the school. Then others of the boys spread over +the downs, looking for the holes of humble-bees and mice, which they +dug up without mercy, often (I regret to say) killing and skinning the +unlucky mice, and (I do not regret to say) getting well stung by the +bumble-bees. Others went after butterflies and birds' eggs in their +seasons; and Tom found on Hazeldown, for the first time, the beautiful +little blue butterfly with golden spots on his wings, which he had never +seen on his own downs, and dug out his first sand-martin's nest. This +latter achievement resulted in a flogging, for the sand-martins built in +a high bank close to the village, consequently out of bounds; but one of +the bolder spirits of the school, who never could be happy unless he +was doing something to which risk was attached, easily persuaded Tom to +break bounds and visit the martins' bank. From whence it being only a +step to the toffy shop, what could be more simple than to go on there +and fill their pockets; or what more certain than that on their return, +a distribution of treasure having been made, the usher should shortly +detect the forbidden smell of bull's-eyes, and, a search ensuing, +discover the state of the breeches-pockets of Tom and his ally? + +This ally of Tom's was indeed a desperate hero in the sight of the boys, +and feared as one who dealt in magic, or something approaching thereto. +Which reputation came to him in this wise. The boys went to bed at +eight, and, of course, consequently lay awake in the dark for an hour or +two, telling ghost-stories by turns. One night when it came to his turn, +and he had dried up their souls by his story, he suddenly declared that +he would make a fiery hand appear on the door; and to the astonishment +and terror of the boys in his room, a hand, or something like it, in +pale light, did then and there appear. The fame of this exploit having +spread to the other rooms, and being discredited there, the young +necromancer declared that the same wonder would appear in all the rooms +in turn, which it accordingly did; and the whole circumstances having +been privately reported to one of the ushers as usual, that functionary, +after listening about at the doors of the rooms, by a sudden descent +caught the performer in his night-shirt, with a box of phosphorus in his +guilty hand. Lucifer-matches and all the present facilities for getting +acquainted with fire were then unknown--the very name of phosphorus had +something diabolic in it to the boy-mind; so Tom's ally, at the cost +of a sound flogging, earned what many older folk covet much--the very +decided fear of most of his companions. + +He was a remarkable boy, and by no means a bad one. Tom stuck to him +till he left, and got into many scrapes by so doing. But he was the +great opponent of the tale-bearing habits of the school, and the open +enemy of the ushers; and so worthy of all support. + +Tom imbibed a fair amount of Latin and Greek at the school, but somehow, +on the whole, it didn't suit him, or he it, and in the holidays he was +constantly working the Squire to send him at once to a public school. +Great was his joy then, when in the middle of his third half-year, in +October 183-, a fever broke out in the village, and the master having +himself slightly sickened of it, the whole of the boys were sent off at +a day's notice to their respective homes. + +The Squire was not quite so pleased as Master Tom to see that young +gentleman's brown, merry face appear at home, some two months before the +proper time, for the Christmas holidays; and so, after putting on his +thinking cap, he retired to his study and wrote several letters, the +result of which was that, one morning at the breakfast-table, about a +fortnight after Tom's return, he addressed his wife with--“My dear, I +have arranged that Tom shall go to Rugby at once, for the last six weeks +of this half-year, instead of wasting them in riding and loitering about +home. It is very kind of the doctor to allow it. Will you see that his +things are all ready by Friday, when I shall take him up to town, and +send him down the next day by himself.” + +Mrs. Brown was prepared for the announcement, and merely suggested a +doubt whether Tom were yet old enough to travel by himself. However, +finding both father and son against her on this point, she gave in, like +a wise woman, and proceeded to prepare Tom's kit for his launch into a +public school. + + + +CHAPTER IV--THE STAGE COACH. + + + “Let the steam-pot hiss till it's hot; + Give me the speed of the Tantivy trot.” + Coaching Song, by R.E.E. Warburton, Esq. + +“Now, sir, time to get up, if you please. Tally-ho coach for +Leicester'll be round in half an hour, and don't wait for nobody.” So +spake the boots of the Peacock Inn Islington, at half-past two o'clock +on the morning of a day in the early part of November 183-, giving +Tom at the same time a shake by the shoulder, and then putting down a +candle; and carrying off his shoes to clean. + +Tom and his father arrived in town from Berkshire the day before, and +finding, on inquiry, that the Birmingham coaches which ran from the city +did not pass through Rugby, but deposited their passengers at Dunchurch, +a village three miles distant on the main road, where said passengers +had to wait for the Oxford and Leicester coach in the evening, or to +take a post-chaise, had resolved that Tom should travel down by the +Tally-ho, which diverged from the main road and passed through Rugby +itself. And as the Tally-ho was an early coach, they had driven out to +the Peacock to be on the road. + +Tom had never been in London, and would have liked to have stopped at +the Belle Savage, where they had been put down by the Star, just at +dusk, that he might have gone roving about those endless, mysterious, +gas-lit streets, which, with their glare and hum and moving crowds, +excited him so that he couldn't talk even. But as soon as he found that +the Peacock arrangement would get him to Rugby by twelve o'clock in the +day, whereas otherwise he wouldn't be there till the evening, all +other plans melted away, his one absorbing aim being to become a public +school-boy as fast as possible, and six hours sooner or later seeming to +him of the most alarming importance. + +Tom and his father had alighted at the Peacock at about seven in the +evening; and having heard with unfeigned joy the paternal order, at the +bar, of steaks and oyster-sauce for supper in half an hour, and seen +his father seated cozily by the bright fire in the coffee-room with the +paper in his hand, Tom had run out to see about him, had wondered at all +the vehicles passing and repassing, and had fraternized with the boots +and hostler, from whom he ascertained that the Tally-ho was a tip-top +goer--ten miles an hour including stoppages--and so punctual that all +the road set their clocks by her. + +Then being summoned to supper, he had regaled himself in one of the +bright little boxes of the Peacock coffee-room, on the beef-steak +and unlimited oyster-sauce and brown stout (tasted then for the first +time--a day to be marked for ever by Tom with a white stone); had at +first attended to the excellent advice which his father was bestowing +on him from over his glass of steaming brandy-and-water, and then +began nodding, from the united effects of the stout, the fire, and the +lecture; till the Squire, observing Tom's state, and remembering that it +was nearly nine o'clock, and that the Tally-ho left at three, sent the +little fellow off to the chambermaid, with a shake of the hand (Tom +having stipulated in the morning before starting that kissing should now +cease between them), and a few parting words: + +“And now, Tom, my boy,” said the Squire, “remember you are going, at +your own earnest request, to be chucked into this great school, like a +young bear, with all your troubles before you--earlier than we should +have sent you perhaps. If schools are what they were in my time, you'll +see a great many cruel blackguard things done, and hear a deal of foul, +bad talk. But never fear. You tell the truth, keep a brave and kind +heart, and never listen to or say anything you wouldn't have your mother +and sister hear, and you'll never feel ashamed to come home, or we to +see you.” + +The allusion to his mother made Tom feel rather choky, and he would have +liked to have hugged his father well, if it hadn't been for the recent +stipulation. + +As it was, he only squeezed his father's hand, and looked bravely up and +said, “I'll try, father.” + +“I know you will, my boy. Is your money all safe? + +“Yes,” said Tom, diving into one pocket to make sure. + +“And your keys?” said the Squire. + +“All right,” said Tom, diving into the other pocket. + +“Well, then, good-night. God bless you! I'll tell boots to call you, and +be up to see you off.” + +Tom was carried off by the chambermaid in a brown study, from which he +was roused in a clean little attic, by that buxom person calling him a +little darling and kissing him as she left the room; which indignity +he was too much surprised to resent. And still thinking of his father's +last words, and the look with which they were spoken, he knelt down and +prayed that, come what might, he might never bring shame or sorrow on +the dear folk at home. + +Indeed, the Squire's last words deserved to have their effect, for they +had been the result of much anxious thought. All the way up to London +he had pondered what he should say to Tom by way of parting +advice--something that the boy could keep in his head ready for use. By +way of assisting meditation, he had even gone the length of taking out +his flint and steel and tinder, and hammering away for a quarter of an +hour till he had manufactured a light for a long Trichinopoli cheroot, +which he silently puffed, to the no small wonder of coachee, who was an +old friend, and an institution on the Bath road, and who always expected +a talk on the prospects and doings, agricultural and social, of the +whole country, when he carried the Squire. + +To condense the Squire's meditation, it was somewhat as follows: “I +won't tell him to read his Bible, and love and serve God; if he don't do +that for his mother's sake and teaching, he won't for mine. Shall I go +into the sort of temptations he'll meet with? No, I can't do that. +Never do for an old fellow to go into such things with a boy. He won't +understand me. Do him more harm than good, ten to one. Shall I tell him +to mind his work, and say he's sent to school to make himself a good +scholar? Well, but he isn't sent to school for that--at any rate, +not for that mainly. I don't care a straw for Greek particles, or the +digamma; no more does his mother. What is he sent to school for? Well, +partly because he wanted so to go. If he'll only turn out a brave, +helpful, truth-telling Englishman, and a gentleman, and a Christian, +that's all I want,” thought the Squire; and upon this view of the case +he framed his last words of advice to Tom, which were well enough suited +to his purpose. + +For they were Tom's first thoughts as he tumbled out of bed at the +summons of boots, and proceeded rapidly to wash and dress himself. At +ten minutes to three he was down in the coffee-room in his stockings, +carrying his hat-box, coat, and comforter in his hand; and there he +found his father nursing a bright fire, and a cup of hot coffee and a +hard biscuit on the table. + +“Now, then, Tom, give us your things here, and drink this. There's +nothing like starting warm, old fellow.” + +Tom addressed himself to the coffee, and prattled away while he worked +himself into his shoes and his greatcoat, well warmed through--a +Petersham coat with velvet collar, made tight after the abominable +fashion of those days. And just as he is swallowing his last mouthful, +winding his comforter round his throat, and tucking the ends into the +breast of his coat, the horn sounds; boots looks in and says, “Tally-ho, +sir;” and they hear the ring and the rattle of the four fast trotters +and the town-made drag, as it dashes up to the Peacock. + +“Anything for us, Bob?” says the burly guard, dropping down from behind, +and slapping himself across the chest. + +“Young gen'lm'n, Rugby; three parcels, Leicester; hamper o' game, +Rugby,” answers hostler. + +“Tell young gent to look alive,” says guard, opening the hind-boot and +shooting in the parcels after examining them by the lamps. “Here; shove +the portmanteau up a-top. I'll fasten him presently.--Now then, sir, +jump up behind.” + +“Good-bye, father--my love at home.” A last shake of the hand. Up goes +Tom, the guard catching his hatbox and holding on with one hand, while +with the other he claps the horn to his mouth. Toot, toot, toot! the +hostlers let go their heads, the four bays plunge at the collar, and +away goes the Tally-ho into the darkness, forty-five seconds from the +time they pulled up. Hostler, boots, and the Squire stand looking after +them under the Peacock lamp. + +“Sharp work!” says the Squire, and goes in again to his bed, the coach +being well out of sight and hearing. + +Tom stands up on the coach and looks back at his father's figure as long +as he can see it; and then the guard, having disposed of his luggage, +comes to an anchor, and finishes his buttonings and other preparations +for facing the three hours before dawn--no joke for those who minded +cold, on a fast coach in November, in the reign of his late Majesty. + +I sometimes think that you boys of this generation are a deal tenderer +fellows than we used to be. At any rate you're much more comfortable +travellers, for I see every one of you with his rug or plaid, and other +dodges for preserving the caloric, and most of you going in, those +fuzzy, dusty, padded first-class carriages. It was another affair +altogether, a dark ride on the top of the Tally-ho, I can tell you, in a +tight Petersham coat, and your feet dangling six inches from the floor. +Then you knew what cold was, and what it was to be without legs, for not +a bit of feeling had you in them after the first half-hour. But it had +its pleasures, the old dark ride. First there was the consciousness of +silent endurance, so dear to every Englishman--of standing out against +something, and not giving in. Then there was the music of the rattling +harness, and the ring of the horses' feet on the hard road, and the +glare of the two bright lamps through the steaming hoar frost, over the +leaders' ears, into the darkness, and the cheery toot of the guard's +horn, to warn some drowsy pikeman or the hostler at the next change; and +the looking forward to daylight; and last, but not least, the delight of +returning sensation in your toes. + +Then the break of dawn and the sunrise, where can they be ever seen in +perfection but from a coach roof? You want motion and change and music +to see them in their glory--not the music of singing men and singing +women, but good, silent music, which sets itself in your own head, the +accompaniment of work and getting over the ground. + +The Tally-ho is past St. Albans, and Tom is enjoying the ride, though +half-frozen. The guard, who is alone with him on the back of the coach, +is silent, but has muffled Tom's feet up in straw, and put the end of an +oat-sack over his knees. The darkness has driven him inwards, and he +has gone over his little past life, and thought of all his doings and +promises, and of his mother and sister, and his father's last words; and +has made fifty good resolutions, and means to bear himself like a brave +Brown as he is, though a young one. Then he has been forward into the +mysterious boy-future, speculating as to what sort of place Rugby is, +and what they do there, and calling up all the stories of public schools +which he has heard from big boys in the holidays. He is choke-full of +hope and life, notwithstanding the cold, and kicks his heels against the +back-board, and would like to sing, only he doesn't know how his friend +the silent guard might take it. + +And now the dawn breaks at the end of the fourth stage, and the coach +pulls up at a little roadside inn with huge stables behind. There is a +bright fire gleaming through the red curtains of the bar window, and +the door is open. The coachman catches his whip into a double thong, and +throws it to the hostler; the steam of the horses rises straight up +into the air. He has put them along over the last two miles, and is two +minutes before his time. He rolls down from the box and into the inn. +The guard rolls off behind. “Now, sir,” says he to Tom, “you just jump +down, and I'll give you a drop of something to keep the cold out.” + +Tom finds a difficulty in jumping, or indeed in finding the top of the +wheel with his feet, which may be in the next world for all he feels; +so the guard picks him off the coach top, and sets him on his legs, and +they stump off into the bar, and join the coachman and the other outside +passengers. + +Here a fresh-looking barmaid serves them each with a glass of early purl +as they stand before the fire, coachman and guard exchanging business +remarks. The purl warms the cockles of Tom's heart, and makes him cough. + +“Rare tackle that, sir, of a cold morning,” says the coachman, smiling. +“Time's up.” They are out again and up; coachee the last, gathering the +reins into his hands and talking to Jem the hostler about the mare's +shoulder, and then swinging himself up on to the box--the horses dashing +off in a canter before he falls into his seat. Toot-toot-tootle-too goes +the horn, and away they are again, five-and-thirty miles on their road +(nearly half-way to Rugby, thinks Tom), and the prospect of breakfast at +the end of the stage. + +And now they begin to see, and the early life of the country-side comes +out--a market cart or two; men in smock-frocks going to their work, pipe +in mouth, a whiff of which is no bad smell this bright morning. The sun +gets up, and the mist shines like silver gauze. They pass the hounds +jogging along to a distant meet, at the heels of the huntsman's back, +whose face is about the colour of the tails of his old pink, as he +exchanges greetings with coachman and guard. Now they pull up at a +lodge, and take on board a well-muffled-up sportsman, with his gun-case +and carpet-bag, An early up-coach meets them, and the coachmen gather +up their horses, and pass one another with the accustomed lift of the +elbow, each team doing eleven miles an hour, with a mile to spare behind +if necessary. And here comes breakfast. + +“Twenty minutes here, gentlemen,” says the coachman, as they pull up at +half-past seven at the inn-door. + +Have we not endured nobly this morning? and is not this a worthy reward +for much endurance? There is the low, dark wainscoted room hung with +sporting prints; the hat-stand (with a whip or two standing up in it +belonging to bagmen who are still snug in bed) by the door; the blazing +fire, with the quaint old glass over the mantelpiece, in which is stuck +a large card with the list of the meets for the week of the county +hounds; the table covered with the whitest of cloths and of china, and +bearing a pigeon-pie, ham, round of cold boiled beef cut from a mammoth +ox, and the great loaf of household bread on a wooden trencher. And +here comes in the stout head waiter, puffing under a tray of hot +viands--kidneys and a steak, transparent rashers and poached eggs, +buttered toast and muffins, coffee and tea, all smoking hot. The table +can never hold it all. The cold meats are removed to the sideboard--they +were only put on for show and to give us an appetite. And now fall on, +gentlemen all. It is a well-known sporting-house, and the breakfasts are +famous. Two or three men in pink, on their way to the meet, drop in, and +are very jovial and sharp-set, as indeed we all are. + +“Tea or coffee, sir?” says head waiter, coming round to Tom. + +“Coffee, please,” says Tom, with his mouth full of muffin and kidney. +Coffee is a treat to him, tea is not. + +Our coachman, I perceive, who breakfasts with us, is a cold beef man. +He also eschews hot potations, and addicts himself to a tankard of ale, +which is brought him by the barmaid. Sportsman looks on approvingly, and +orders a ditto for himself. + +Tom has eaten kidney and pigeon-pie, and imbibed coffee, till his little +skin is as tight as a drum; and then has the further pleasure of paying +head waiter out of his own purse, in a dignified manner, and walks out +before the inn-door to see the horses put to. This is done leisurely and +in a highly-finished manner by the hostlers, as if they enjoyed the not +being hurried. Coachman comes out with his waybill, and puffing a fat +cigar which the sportsman has given him. Guard emerges from the tap, +where he prefers breakfasting, licking round a tough-looking doubtful +cheroot, which you might tie round your finger, and three whiffs of +which would knock any one else out of time. + +The pinks stand about the inn-door lighting cigars and waiting to see us +start, while their hacks are led up and down the market-place, on which +the inn looks. They all know our sportsman, and we feel a reflected +credit when we see him chatting and laughing with them. + +“Now, sir, please,” says the coachman. All the rest of the passengers +are up; the guard is locking up the hind-boot. + +“A good run to you!” says the sportsman to the pinks, and is by the +coachman's side in no time. + +“Let 'em go, Dick!” The hostlers fly back, drawing off the cloths from +their glossy loins, and away we go through the market-place and down the +High Street, looking in at the first-floor windows, and seeing several +worthy burgesses shaving thereat; while all the shopboys who are +cleaning the windows, and housemaids who are doing the steps, stop and +look pleased as we rattle past, as if we were a part of their legitimate +morning's amusement. We clear the town, and are well out between the +hedgerows again as the town clock strikes eight. + +The sun shines almost warmly, and breakfast has oiled all springs +and loosened all tongues. Tom is encouraged by a remark or two of the +guard's between the puffs of his oily cheroot, and besides is getting +tired of not talking. He is too full of his destination to talk about +anything else, and so asks the guard if he knows Rugby. + +“Goes through it every day of my life. Twenty minutes afore twelve +down--ten o'clock up.” + +“What sort of place is it, please?” says Tom. + +Guard looks at him with a comical expression. “Werry out-o'-the-way +place, sir; no paving to streets, nor no lighting. 'Mazin' big horse and +cattle fair in autumn--lasts a week--just over now. Takes town a week to +get clean after it. Fairish hunting country. But slow place, sir, slow +place--off the main road, you see--only three coaches a day, and one on +'em a two-oss wan, more like a hearse nor a coach--Regulator--comes from +Oxford. Young genl'm'n at school calls her Pig and Whistle, and goes up +to college by her (six miles an hour) when they goes to enter. Belong to +school, sir?” + +“Yes,” says Tom, not unwilling for a moment that the guard should think +him an old boy. But then, having some qualms as to the truth of the +assertion, and seeing that if he were to assume the character of an old +boy he couldn't go on asking the questions he wanted, added--“That is to +say, I'm on my way there. I'm a new boy.” + +The guard looked as if he knew this quite as well as Tom. + +“You're werry late, sir,” says the guard; “only six weeks to-day to the +end of the half.” Tom assented. “We takes up fine loads this day six +weeks, and Monday and Tuesday arter. Hopes we shall have the pleasure of +carrying you back.” + +Tom said he hoped they would; but he thought within himself that his +fate would probably be the Pig and Whistle. + +“It pays uncommon cert'nly,” continues the guard. “Werry free with their +cash is the young genl'm'n. But, Lor' bless you, we gets into such rows +all 'long the road, what wi' their pea-shooters, and long whips, and +hollering, and upsetting every one as comes by, I'd a sight sooner +carry one or two on 'em, sir, as I may be a-carryin' of you now, than a +coach-load.” + +“What do they do with the pea-shooters?” inquires Tom. + +“Do wi' 'em! Why, peppers every one's faces as we comes near, 'cept the +young gals, and breaks windows wi' them too, some on 'em shoots so hard. +Now 'twas just here last June, as we was a-driving up the first-day +boys, they was mendin' a quarter-mile of road, and there was a lot of +Irish chaps, reg'lar roughs, a-breaking stones. As we comes up, 'Now, +boys,' says young gent on the box (smart young fellow and desper't +reckless), 'here's fun! Let the Pats have it about the ears.' 'God's +sake sir!' says Bob (that's my mate the coachman); 'don't go for to +shoot at 'em. They'll knock us off the coach.' 'Damme, coachee,' says +young my lord, 'you ain't afraid.--Hoora, boys! let 'em have it.' +'Hoora!' sings out the others, and fill their mouths choke-full of peas +to last the whole line. Bob, seeing as 'twas to come, knocks his hat +over his eyes, hollers to his osses, and shakes 'em up; and away we goes +up to the line on 'em, twenty miles an hour. The Pats begin to hoora +too, thinking it was a runaway; and first lot on 'em stands grinnin' +and wavin' their old hats as we comes abreast on 'em; and then you'd ha' +laughed to see how took aback and choking savage they looked, when they +gets the peas a-stinging all over 'em. But bless you, the laugh weren't +all of our side, sir, by a long way. We was going so fast, and they was +so took aback, that they didn't take what was up till we was half-way +up the line. Then 'twas, 'Look out all!' surely. They howls all down the +line fit to frighten you; some on 'em runs arter us and tries to clamber +up behind, only we hits 'em over the fingers and pulls their hands off; +one as had had it very sharp act'ly runs right at the leaders, as though +he'd ketch 'em by the heads, only luck'ly for him he misses his tip and +comes over a heap o' stones first. The rest picks up stones, and gives +it us right away till we gets out of shot, the young gents holding out +werry manful with the pea-shooters and such stones as lodged on us, and +a pretty many there was too. Then Bob picks hisself up again, and looks +at young gent on box werry solemn. Bob'd had a rum un in the ribs, +which'd like to ha' knocked him off the box, or made him drop the reins. +Young gent on box picks hisself up, and so does we all, and looks round +to count damage. Box's head cut open and his hat gone; 'nother young +gent's hat gone; mine knocked in at the side, and not one on us as +wasn't black and blue somewheres or another, most on 'em all over. Two +pound ten to pay for damage to paint, which they subscribed for there +and then, and give Bob and me a extra half-sovereign each; but I +wouldn't go down that line again not for twenty half-sovereigns.” And +the guard shook his head slowly, and got up and blew a clear, brisk +toot-toot. + +“What fun!” said Tom, who could scarcely contain his pride at this +exploit of his future school-fellows. He longed already for the end of +the half, that he might join them. + +“'Taint such good fun, though, sir, for the folk as meets the coach, nor +for we who has to go back with it next day. Them Irishers last summer +had all got stones ready for us, and was all but letting drive, and we'd +got two reverend gents aboard too. We pulled up at the beginning of +the line, and pacified them, and we're never going to carry no more +pea-shooters, unless they promises not to fire where there's a line of +Irish chaps a-stonebreaking.” The guard stopped and pulled away at his +cheroot, regarding Tom benignantly the while. + +“Oh, don't stop! Tell us something more about the pea-shooting.” + +“Well, there'd like to have been a pretty piece of work over it at +Bicester, a while back. We was six mile from the town, when we meets an +old square-headed gray-haired yeoman chap, a-jogging along quite quiet. +He looks up at the coach, and just then a pea hits him on the nose, and +some catches his cob behind and makes him dance up on his hind legs. I +see'd the old boy's face flush and look plaguy awkward, and I thought we +was in for somethin' nasty. + +“He turns his cob's head and rides quietly after us just out of shot. +How that 'ere cob did step! We never shook him off not a dozen yards +in the six miles. At first the young gents was werry lively on him; but +afore we got in, seeing how steady the old chap come on, they was quite +quiet, and laid their heads together what they should do. Some was for +fighting, some for axing his pardon. He rides into the town close after +us, comes up when we stops, and says the two as shot at him must come +before a magistrate; and a great crowd comes round, and we couldn't get +the osses to. But the young uns they all stand by one another, and says +all or none must go, and as how they'd fight it out, and have to be +carried. Just as 'twas gettin' serious, and the old boy and the mob was +going to pull 'em off the coach, one little fellow jumps up and says, +'Here--I'll stay. I'm only going three miles farther. My father's name's +Davis; he's known about here, and I'll go before the magistrate with +this gentleman.' 'What! be thee parson Davis's son?' says the old boy. +'Yes,' says the young un. 'Well, I be mortal sorry to meet thee in such +company; but for thy father's sake and thine (for thee bist a brave +young chap) I'll say no more about it.' Didn't the boys cheer him, and +the mob cheered the young chap; and then one of the biggest gets down, +and begs his pardon werry gentlemanly for all the rest, saying as they +all had been plaguy vexed from the first, but didn't like to ax his +pardon till then, 'cause they felt they hadn't ought to shirk the +consequences of their joke. And then they all got down, and shook hands +with the old boy, and asked him to all parts of the country, to their +homes; and we drives off twenty minutes behind time, with cheering and +hollering as if we was county 'members. But, Lor' bless you, sir,” says +the guard, smacking his hand down on his knee and looking full into +Tom's face, “ten minutes arter they was all as bad as ever.” + +Tom showed such undisguised and open-mouthed interest in his narrations +that the old guard rubbed up his memory, and launched out into a graphic +history of all the performances of the boys on the roads for the last +twenty years. Off the road he couldn't go; the exploit must have been +connected with horses or vehicles to hang in the old fellow's head. Tom +tried him off his own ground once or twice, but found he knew nothing +beyond, and so let him have his head, and the rest of the road bowled +easily away; for old Blow-hard (as the boys called him) was a dry old +file, with much kindness and humour, and a capital spinner of a yarn +when he had broken the neck of his day's work, and got plenty of ale +under his belt. + +What struck Tom's youthful imagination most was the desperate and +lawless character of most of the stories. Was the guard hoaxing him? He +couldn't help hoping that they were true. It's very odd how almost all +English boys love danger. You can get ten to join a game, or climb a +tree, or swim a stream, when there's a chance of breaking their limbs or +getting drowned, for one who'll stay on level ground, or in his depth, +or play quoits or bowls. + +The guard had just finished an account of a desperate fight which had +happened at one of the fairs between the drovers and the farmers with +their whips, and the boys with cricket-bats and wickets, which arose out +of a playful but objectionable practice of the boys going round to the +public-houses and taking the linch-pins out of the wheels of the gigs, +and was moralizing upon the way in which the Doctor, “a terrible stern +man he'd heard tell,” had come down upon several of the performers, +“sending three on 'em off next morning in a po-shay with a parish +constable,” when they turned a corner and neared the milestone, the +third from Rugby. By the stone two boys stood, their jackets buttoned +tight, waiting for the coach. + +“Look here, sir,” says the guard, after giving a sharp toot-toot; +“there's two on 'em; out-and-out runners they be. They comes out about +twice or three times a week, and spirts a mile alongside of us.” + +And as they came up, sure enough, away went two boys along the footpath, +keeping up with the horses--the first a light, clean-made fellow going +on springs; the other stout and round-shouldered, labouring in his pace, +but going as dogged as a bull-terrier. + +Old Blow-hard looked on admiringly. “See how beautiful that there un +holds hisself together, and goes from his hips, sir,” said he; “he's a +'mazin' fine runner. Now many coachmen as drives a first-rate team'd +put it on, and try and pass 'em. But Bob, sir, bless you, he's +tender-hearted; he'd sooner pull in a bit if he see'd 'em a-gettin' +beat. I do b'lieve, too, as that there un'd sooner break his heart than +let us go by him afore next milestone.” + +At the second milestone the boys pulled up short, and waved their +hats to the guard, who had his watch out and shouted “4.56,” thereby +indicating that the mile had been done in four seconds under the five +minutes. They passed several more parties of boys, all of them objects +of the deepest interest to Tom, and came in sight of the town at ten +minutes before twelve. Tom fetched a long breath, and thought he had +never spent a pleasanter day. Before he went to bed he had quite settled +that it must be the greatest day he should ever spend, and didn't alter +his opinion for many a long year--if he has yet. + + + +CHAPTER V--RUGBY AND FOOTBALL. + + + “Foot and eye opposed + In dubious strife.”--Scott. + +“And so here's Rugby, sir, at last, and you'll be in plenty of time +for dinner at the School-house, as I telled you,” said the old guard, +pulling his horn out of its case and tootle-tooing away, while the +coachman shook up his horses, and carried them along the side of the +school close, round Dead-man's corner, past the school-gates, and down +the High Street to the Spread Eagle, the wheelers in a spanking trot, +and leaders cantering, in a style which would not have disgraced “Cherry +Bob,” “ramping, stamping, tearing, swearing Billy Harwood,” or any other +of the old coaching heroes. + +Tom's heart beat quick as he passed the great schoolfield or close, with +its noble elms, in which several games at football were going on, and +tried to take in at once the long line of gray buildings, beginning +with the chapel, and ending with the School-house, the residence of the +head-master, where the great flag was lazily waving from the highest +round tower. And he began already to be proud of being a Rugby boy, as +he passed the schoolgates, with the oriel window above, and saw the boys +standing there, looking as if the town belonged to them, and nodding in +a familiar manner to the coachman, as if any one of them would be quite +equal to getting on the box, and working the team down street as well as +he. + +One of the young heroes, however, ran out from the rest, and scrambled +up behind; where, having righted himself, and nodded to the guard, with +“How do, Jem?” he turned short round to Tom, and after looking him over +for a minute, began,-- + +“I say, you fellow, is your name Brown?” + +“Yes,” said Tom, in considerable astonishment, glad, however, to have +lighted on some one already who seemed to know him. + +“Ah, I thought so. You know my old aunt, Miss East. She lives somewhere +down your way in Berkshire. She wrote to me that you were coming to-day, +and asked me to give you a lift.” + +Tom was somewhat inclined to resent the patronizing air of his new +friend, a boy of just about his own height and age, but gifted with +the most transcendent coolness and assurance, which Tom felt to be +aggravating and hard to bear, but couldn't for the life of him help +admiring and envying--especially when young my lord begins hectoring +two or three long loafing fellows, half porter, half stableman, with +a strong touch of the blackguard, and in the end arranges with one of +them, nicknamed Cooey, to carry Tom's luggage up to the School-house for +sixpence. + +“And hark 'ee, Cooey; it must be up in ten minutes, or no more jobs from +me. Come along, Brown.” And away swaggers the young potentate, with his +hands in his pockets, and Tom at his side. + +“All right, sir,” says Cooey, touching his hat, with a leer and a wink +at his companions. + +“Hullo though,” says East, pulling up, and taking another look at Tom; +“this'll never do. Haven't you got a hat? We never wear caps here. Only +the louts wear caps. Bless you, if you were to go into the quadrangle +with that thing on, I don't know what'd happen.” The very idea was quite +beyond young Master East, and he looked unutterable things. + +Tom thought his cap a very knowing affair, but confessed that he had +a hat in his hat-box; which was accordingly at once extracted from the +hind-boot, and Tom equipped in his go-to-meeting roof, as his new friend +called it. But this didn't quite suit his fastidious taste in another +minute, being too shiny; so, as they walk up the town, they dive into +Nixon's the hatter's, and Tom is arrayed, to his utter astonishment, and +without paying for it, in a regulation cat-skin at seven-and-sixpence, +Nixon undertaking to send the best hat up to the matron's room, +School-house, in half an hour. + +“You can send in a note for a tile on Monday, and make it all right, you +know,” said Mentor; “we're allowed two seven-and-sixers a half, besides +what we bring from home.” + +Tom by this time began to be conscious of his new social position and +dignities, and to luxuriate in the realized ambition of being a public +school-boy at last, with a vested right of spoiling two seven-and-sixers +in half a year. + +“You see,” said his friend, as they strolled up towards the +school-gates, in explanation of his conduct, “a great deal depends on +how a fellow cuts up at first. If he's got nothing odd about him, and +answers straightforward, and holds his head up, he gets on. Now, you'll +do very well as to rig, all but that cap. You see I'm doing the handsome +thing by you, because my father knows yours; besides, I want to please +the old lady. She gave me half a sov. this half, and perhaps'll double +it next, if I keep in her good books.” + +There's nothing for candour like a lower-school boy, and East was a +genuine specimen--frank, hearty, and good-natured, well-satisfied with +himself and his position, and choke-full of life and spirits, and +all the Rugby prejudices and traditions which he had been able to get +together in the long course of one half-year during which he had been at +the School-house. + +And Tom, notwithstanding his bumptiousness, felt friends with him at +once, and began sucking in all his ways and prejudices, as fast as he +could understand them. + +East was great in the character of cicerone. He carried Tom through +the great gates, where were only two or three boys. These satisfied +themselves with the stock questions, “You fellow, what's your name? +Where do you come from? How old are you? Where do you board?” and, “What +form are you in?” And so they passed on through the quadrangle and +a small courtyard, upon which looked down a lot of little windows +(belonging, as his guide informed him, to some of the School-house +studies), into the matron's room, where East introduced Tom to that +dignitary; made him give up the key of his trunk, that the matron might +unpack his linen, and told the story of the hat and of his own presence +of mind: upon the relation whereof the matron laughingly scolded him for +the coolest new boy in the house; and East, indignant at the accusation +of newness, marched Tom off into the quadrangle, and began showing +him the schools, and examining him as to his literary attainments; the +result of which was a prophecy that they would be in the same form, and +could do their lessons together. + +“And now come in and see my study--we shall have just time before +dinner; and afterwards, before calling over, we'll do the close.” + +Tom followed his guide through the School-house hall, which opens into +the quadrangle. It is a great room, thirty feet long and eighteen high, +or thereabouts, with two great tables running the whole length, and +two large fireplaces at the side, with blazing fires in them, at one of +which some dozen boys were standing and lounging, some of whom shouted +to East to stop; but he shot through with his convoy, and landed him +in the long, dark passages, with a large fire at the end of each, upon +which the studies opened. Into one of these, in the bottom passage, East +bolted with our hero, slamming and bolting the door behind them, in +case of pursuit from the hall, and Tom was for the first time in a Rugby +boy's citadel. + +He hadn't been prepared for separate studies, and was not a little +astonished and delighted with the palace in question. + +It wasn't very large, certainly, being about six feet long by four +broad. It couldn't be called light, as there were bars and a grating to +the window; which little precautions were necessary in the studies on +the ground-floor looking out into the close, to prevent the exit of +small boys after locking up, and the entrance of contraband articles. +But it was uncommonly comfortable to look at, Tom thought. The space +under the window at the farther end was occupied by a square table +covered with a reasonably clean and whole red and blue check tablecloth; +a hard-seated sofa covered with red stuff occupied one side, running up +to the end, and making a seat for one, or by sitting close, for two, at +the table and a good stout wooden chair afforded a seat to another boy, +so that three could sit and work together. The walls were wainscoted +half-way up, the wainscot being covered with green baize, the remainder +with a bright-patterned paper, on which hung three or four prints of +dogs' heads; Grimaldi winning the Aylesbury steeple-chase; Amy Robsart, +the reigning Waverley beauty of the day; and Tom Crib, in a posture +of defence, which did no credit to the science of that hero, if truly +represented. Over the door were a row of hat-pegs, and on each side +bookcases with cupboards at the bottom, shelves and cupboards being +filled indiscriminately with school-books, a cup or two, a +mouse-trap and candlesticks, leather straps, a fustian bag, and some +curious-looking articles which puzzled Tom not a little, until his +friend explained that they were climbing-irons, and showed their use. A +cricket-bat and small fishing-rod stood up in one corner. + +This was the residence of East and another boy in the same form, and had +more interest for Tom than Windsor Castle, or any other residence in +the British Isles. For was he not about to become the joint owner of a +similar home, the first place he could call his own? One's own! What a +charm there is in the words! How long it takes boy and man to find +out their worth! How fast most of us hold on to them--faster and more +jealously, the nearer we are to that general home into which we can +take nothing, but must go naked as we came into the world! When shall we +learn that he who multiplieth possessions multiplieth troubles, and that +the one single use of things which we call our own is that they may be +his who hath need of them? + +“And shall I have a study like this too?” said Tom. + +“Yes, of course; you'll be chummed with some fellow on Monday, and you +can sit here till then.” + +“What nice places!” + +“They're well enough,” answered East, patronizingly, “only uncommon cold +at nights sometimes. Gower--that's my chum--and I make a fire with paper +on the floor after supper generally, only that makes it so smoky.” + +“But there's a big fire out in the passage,” said Tom. + +“Precious little we get out of that, though,” said East. “Jones the +praepostor has the study at the fire end, and he has rigged up an iron +rod and green baize curtain across the passage, which he draws at night, +and sits there with his door open; so he gets all the fire, and hears if +we come out of our studies after eight, or make a noise. However, he's +taken to sitting in the fifth-form room lately, so we do get a bit of +fire now sometimes; only to keep a sharp lookout that he don't catch you +behind his curtain when he comes down--that's all.” + +A quarter past one now struck, and the bell began tolling for dinner; so +they went into the hall and took their places, Tom at the very bottom +of the second table, next to the praepostor (who sat at the end to keep +order there), and East a few paces higher. And now Tom for the first +time saw his future school-fellows in a body. In they came, some hot +and ruddy from football or long walks, some pale and chilly from hard +reading in their studies, some from loitering over the fire at +the pastrycook's, dainty mortals, bringing with them pickles and +saucebottles to help them with their dinners. And a great big-bearded +man, whom Tom took for a master, began calling over the names, while the +great joints were being rapidly carved on the third table in the +corner by the old verger and the housekeeper. Tom's turn came last, and +meanwhile he was all eyes, looking first with awe at the great man, who +sat close to him, and was helped first, and who read a hard-looking book +all the time he was eating; and when he got up and walked off to the +fire, at the small boys round him, some of whom were reading, and the +rest talking in whispers to one another, or stealing one another's +bread, or shooting pellets, or digging their forks through the +tablecloth. However, notwithstanding his curiosity, he managed to make +a capital dinner by the time the big man called “Stand up!” and said +grace. + +As soon as dinner was over, and Tom had been questioned by such of his +neighbours as were curious as to his birth, parentage, education, and +other like matters, East, who evidently enjoyed his new dignity of +patron and mentor, proposed having a look at the close, which Tom, +athirst for knowledge, gladly assented to; and they went out through the +quadrangle and past the big fives court, into the great playground. + +“That's the chapel, you see,” said East; “and there, just behind it, is +the place for fights. You see it's most out of the way of the masters, +who all live on the other side, and don't come by here after first +lesson or callings-over. That's when the fights come off. And all this +part where we are is the little-side ground, right up to the trees; and +on the other side of the trees is the big-side ground, where the great +matches are played. And there's the island in the farthest corner; +you'll know that well enough next half, when there's island fagging. I +say, it's horrid cold; let's have a run across.” And away went East, Tom +close behind him. East was evidently putting his best foot foremost; and +Tom, who was mighty proud of his running, and not a little anxious +to show his friend that, although a new boy, he was no milksop, laid +himself down to work in his very best style. Right across the close they +went, each doing all he knew, and there wasn't a yard between them when +they pulled up at the island moat. + +“I say,” said East, as soon as he got his wind, looking with much +increased respect at Tom, “you ain't a bad scud, not by no means. Well, +I'm as warm as a toast now.” + +“But why do you wear white trousers in November?” said Tom. He had been +struck by this peculiarity in the costume of almost all the School-house +boys. + +“Why, bless us, don't you know? No; I forgot. Why, to-day's the +School-house match. Our house plays the whole of the School at football. +And we all wear white trousers, to show 'em we don't care for hacks. +You're in luck to come to-day. You just will see a match; and Brooke's +going to let me play in quarters. That's more than he'll do for any +other lower-school boy, except James, and he's fourteen.” + +“Who's Brooke?” + +“Why, that big fellow who called over at dinner, to be sure. He's cock +of the school, and head of the School-house side, and the best kick and +charger in Rugby.” + +“Oh, but do show me where they play. And tell me about it. I love +football so, and have played all my life. Won't Brooke let me play?” + +“Not he,” said East, with some indignation. “Why, you don't know the +rules; you'll be a month learning them. And then it's no joke playing-up +in a match, I can tell you--quite another thing from your private school +games. Why, there's been two collar-bones broken this half, and a dozen +fellows lamed. And last year a fellow had his leg broken.” + +Tom listened with the profoundest respect to this chapter of accidents, +and followed East across the level ground till they came to a sort of +gigantic gallows of two poles, eighteen feet high, fixed upright in the +ground some fourteen feet apart, with a cross-bar running from one to +the other at the height of ten feet or thereabouts. + +“This is one of the goals,” said East, “and you see the other, across +there, right opposite, under the Doctor's wall. Well, the match is for +the best of three goals; whichever side kicks two goals wins: and it +won't do, you see, just to kick the ball through these posts--it must go +over the cross-bar; any height'll do, so long as it's between the posts. +You'll have to stay in goal to touch the ball when it rolls behind the +posts, because if the other side touch it they have a try at goal. Then +we fellows in quarters, we play just about in front of goal here, and +have to turn the ball and kick it back before the big fellows on the +other side can follow it up. And in front of us all the big fellows +play, and that's where the scrummages are mostly.” + +Tom's respect increased as he struggled to make out his friend's +technicalities, and the other set to work to explain the mysteries +of “off your side,” “drop-kicks,” “punts,” “places,” and the other +intricacies of the great science of football. + +“But how do you keep the ball between the goals?” said he; “I can't see +why it mightn't go right down to the chapel.” + +“Why; that's out of play,” answered East. “You see this gravel-walk +running down all along this side of the playing-ground, and the line +of elms opposite on the other? Well, they're the bounds. As soon as the +ball gets past them, it's in touch, and out of play. And then whoever +first touches it has to knock it straight out amongst the players-up, +who make two lines with a space between them, every fellow going on his +own side. Ain't there just fine scrummages then! And the three trees you +see there which come out into the play, that's a tremendous place when +the ball hangs there, for you get thrown against the trees, and that's +worse than any hack.” + +Tom wondered within himself, as they strolled back again towards the +fives court, whether the matches were really such break-neck affairs as +East represented, and whether, if they were, he should ever get to like +them and play up well. + +He hadn't long to wonder, however, for next minute East cried out, +“Hurrah! here's the punt-about; come along and try your hand at a kick.” + The punt-about is the practice-ball, which is just brought out and +kicked about anyhow from one boy to another before callings-over and +dinner, and at other odd times. They joined the boys who had brought it +out, all small School-house fellows, friends of East; and Tom had the +pleasure of trying his skill, and performed very creditably, after first +driving his foot three inches into the ground, and then nearly kicking +his leg into the air, in vigorous efforts to accomplish a drop-kick +after the manner of East. + +Presently more boys and bigger came out, and boys from other houses +on their way to calling-over, and more balls were sent for. The crowd +thickened as three o'clock approached; and when the hour struck, one +hundred and fifty boys were hard at work. Then the balls were held, the +master of the week came down in cap and gown to calling-over, and the +whole school of three hundred boys swept into the big school to answer +to their names. + +“I may come in, mayn't I?” said Tom, catching East by the arm, and +longing to feel one of them. + +“Yes, come along; nobody'll say anything. You won't be so eager to get +into calling-over after a month,” replied his friend; and they marched +into the big school together, and up to the farther end, where that +illustrious form, the lower fourth, which had the honour of East's +patronage for the time being, stood. + +The master mounted into the high desk by the door, and one of the +praepostors of the week stood by him on the steps, the other three +marching up and down the middle of the school with their canes, calling +out, “Silence, silence!” The sixth form stood close by the door on the +left, some thirty in number, mostly great big grown men, as Tom thought, +surveying them from a distance with awe; the fifth form behind them, +twice their number, and not quite so big. These on the left; and on the +right the lower fifth, shell, and all the junior forms in order; while +up the middle marched the three praepostors. + +Then the praepostor who stands by the master calls out the names, +beginning with the sixth form; and as he calls each boy answers “here” + to his name, and walks out. Some of the sixth stop at the door to turn +the whole string of boys into the close. It is a great match-day, and +every boy in the school, will he, nill he, must be there. The rest of +the sixth go forwards into the close, to see that no one escapes by any +of the side gates. + +To-day, however, being the School-house match, none of the School-house +praepostors stay by the door to watch for truants of their side; there +is carte blanche to the School-house fags to go where they like. “They +trust to our honour,” as East proudly informs Tom; “they know very well +that no School-house boy would cut the match. If he did, we'd very soon +cut him, I can tell you.” + +The master of the week being short-sighted, and the praepostors of the +week small and not well up to their work, the lower-school boys employ +the ten minutes which elapse before their names are called in pelting +one another vigorously with acorns, which fly about in all directions. +The small praepostors dash in every now and then, and generally chastise +some quiet, timid boy who is equally afraid of acorns and canes, +while the principal performers get dexterously out of the way. And so +calling-over rolls on somehow, much like the big world, punishments +lighting on wrong shoulders, and matters going generally in a queer, +cross-grained way, but the end coming somehow, which is, after all, the +great point. And now the master of the week has finished, and locked up +the big school; and the praepostors of the week come out, sweeping the +last remnant of the school fags, who had been loafing about the corners +by the fives court, in hopes of a chance of bolting, before them into +the close. + +“Hold the punt-about!” “To the goals!” are the cries; and all stray +balls are impounded by the authorities, and the whole mass of boys moves +up towards the two goals, dividing as they go into three bodies. That +little band on the left, consisting of from fifteen to twenty boys, Tom +amongst them, who are making for the goal under the School-house wall, +are the School-house boys who are not to play up, and have to stay in +goal. The larger body moving to the island goal are the School boys in a +like predicament. The great mass in the middle are the players-up, both +sides mingled together; they are hanging their jackets (and all who mean +real work), their hats, waistcoats, neck-handkerchiefs, and braces, on +the railings round the small trees; and there they go by twos and +threes up to their respective grounds. There is none of the colour and +tastiness of get-up, you will perceive, which lends such a life to +the present game at Rugby, making the dullest and worst-fought match a +pretty sight. Now each house has its own uniform of cap and jersey, of +some lively colour; but at the time we are speaking of plush caps have +not yet come in, or uniforms of any sort, except the School-house +white trousers, which are abominably cold to-day. Let us get to work, +bare-headed, and girded with our plain leather straps. But we mean +business, gentlemen. + +And now that the two sides have fairly sundered, and each occupies its +own ground, and we get a good look at them, what absurdity is this? You +don't mean to say that those fifty or sixty boys in white trousers, many +of them quite small, are going to play that huge mass opposite? Indeed I +do, gentlemen. They're going to try, at any rate, and won't make such +a bad fight of it either, mark my word; for hasn't old Brooke won the +toss, with his lucky halfpenny, and got choice of goals and kick-off? +The new ball you may see lie there quite by itself, in the middle, +pointing towards the School or island goal; in another minute it will be +well on its way there. Use that minute in remarking how the Schoolhouse +side is drilled. You will see, in the first place, that the sixth-form +boy, who has the charge of goal, has spread his force (the goalkeepers) +so as to occupy the whole space behind the goal-posts, at distances of +about five yards apart. A safe and well-kept goal is the foundation of +all good play. Old Brooke is talking to the captain of quarters, and +now he moves away. See how that youngster spreads his men (the light +brigade) carefully over the ground, half-way between their own goal and +the body of their own players-up (the heavy brigade). These again play +in several bodies. There is young Brooke and the bull-dogs. Mark them +well. They are the “fighting brigade,” the “die-hards,” larking about +at leap-frog to keep themselves warm, and playing tricks on one another. +And on each side of old Brooke, who is now standing in the middle of +the ground and just going to kick off, you see a separate wing of +players-up, each with a boy of acknowledged prowess to look to--here +Warner, and there Hedge; but over all is old Brooke, absolute as he +of Russia, but wisely and bravely ruling over willing and worshipping +subjects, a true football king. His face is earnest and careful as he +glances a last time over his array, but full of pluck and hope--the sort +of look I hope to see in my general when I go out to fight. + +The School side is not organized in the same way. The goal-keepers +are all in lumps, anyhow and nohow; you can't distinguish between the +players-up and the boys in quarters, and there is divided leadership. +But with such odds in strength and weight it must take more than that to +hinder them from winning; and so their leaders seem to think, for they +let the players-up manage themselves. + +But now look! there is a slight move forward of the School-house wings, +a shout of “Are you ready?” and loud affirmative reply. Old Brooke takes +half a dozen quick steps, and away goes the ball spinning towards the +School goal, seventy yards before it touches ground, and at no +point above twelve or fifteen feet high, a model kick-off; and the +School-house cheer and rush on. The ball is returned, and they meet it +and drive it back amongst the masses of the School already in motion. +Then the two sides close, and you can see nothing for minutes but a +swaying crowd of boys, at one point violently agitated. That is where +the ball is, and there are the keen players to be met, and the glory and +the hard knocks to be got. You hear the dull thud, thud of the ball, and +the shouts of “Off your side,” “Down with him,” “Put him over,” “Bravo.” + This is what we call “a scrummage,” gentlemen, and the first scrummage +in a School-house match was no joke in the consulship of Plancus. + +But see! it has broken; the ball is driven out on the School-house side, +and a rush of the School carries it past the School-house players-up. +“Look out in quarters,” Brooke's and twenty other voices ring out. No +need to call, though: the School-house captain of quarters has caught it +on the bound, dodges the foremost School boys, who are heading the rush, +and sends it back with a good drop-kick well into the enemy's country. +And then follows rush upon rush, and scrummage upon scrummage, the ball +now driven through into the School-house quarters, and now into the +School goal; for the School-house have not lost the advantage which the +kick-off and a slight wind gave them at the outset, and are slightly +“penning” their adversaries. You say you don't see much in it +all--nothing but a struggling mass of boys, and a leather ball which +seems to excite them all to great fury, as a red rag does a bull. My +dear sir, a battle would look much the same to you, except that the +boys would be men, and the balls iron; but a battle would be worth +your looking at for all that, and so is a football match. You can't be +expected to appreciate the delicate strokes of play, the turns by which +a game is lost and won--it takes an old player to do that; but the broad +philosophy of football you can understand if you will. Come along with +me a little nearer, and let us consider it together. + +The ball has just fallen again where the two sides are thickest, and +they close rapidly around it in a scrummage. It must be driven through +now by force or skill, till it flies out on one side or the other. +Look how differently the boys face it! Here come two of the bulldogs, +bursting through the outsiders; in they go, straight to the heart of the +scrummage, bent on driving that ball out on the opposite side. That is +what they mean to do. My sons, my sons! you are too hot; you have gone +past the ball, and must struggle now right through the scrummage, and +get round and back again to your own side, before you can be of any +further use. Here comes young Brooke; he goes in as straight as you, but +keeps his head, and backs and bends, holding himself still behind the +ball, and driving it furiously when he gets the chance. Take a leaf out +of his book, you young chargers. Here comes Speedicut, and Flashman the +School-house bully, with shouts and great action. Won't you two come up +to young Brooke, after locking-up, by the School-house fire, with “Old +fellow, wasn't that just a splendid scrummage by the three trees?” But +he knows you, and so do we. You don't really want to drive that +ball through that scrummage, chancing all hurt for the glory of the +School-house, but to make us think that's what you want--a vastly +different thing; and fellows of your kidney will never go through more +than the skirts of a scrummage, where it's all push and no kicking. We +respect boys who keep out of it, and don't sham going in; but you--we +had rather not say what we think of you. + +Then the boys who are bending and watching on the outside, mark them: +they are most useful players, the dodgers, who seize on the ball the +moment it rolls out from amongst the chargers, and away with it across +to the opposite goal. They seldom go into the scrummage, but must have +more coolness than the chargers. As endless as are boys' characters, so +are their ways of facing or not facing a scrummage at football. + +Three-quarters of an hour are gone; first winds are failing, and weight +and numbers beginning to tell. Yard by yard the School-house have been +driven back, contesting every inch of ground. The bull-dogs are the +colour of mother earth from shoulder to ankle, except young Brooke, who +has a marvellous knack of keeping his legs. The School-house are being +penned in their turn, and now the ball is behind their goal, under the +Doctor's wall. The Doctor and some of his family are there looking on, +and seem as anxious as any boy for the success of the School-house. We +get a minute's breathing-time before old Brooke kicks out, and he gives +the word to play strongly for touch, by the three trees. Away goes the +ball, and the bull-dogs after it, and in another minute there is shout +of “In touch!” “Our ball!” Now's your time, old Brooke, while your men +are still fresh. He stands with the ball in his hand, while the two +sides form in deep lines opposite one another; he must strike it +straight out between them. The lines are thickest close to him, but +young Brooke and two or three of his men are shifting up farther, +where the opposite line is weak. Old Brooke strikes it out straight and +strong, and it falls opposite his brother. Hurrah! that rush has taken +it right through the School line, and away past the three trees, far +into their quarters, and young Brooke and the bull-dogs are close upon +it. The School leaders rush back, shouting, “Look out in goal!” and +strain every nerve to catch him, but they are after the fleetest foot +in Rugby. There they go straight for the School goal-posts, quarters +scattering before them. One after another the bull-dogs go down, but +young Brooke holds on. “He is down.” No! a long stagger, but the danger +is past. That was the shock of Crew, the most dangerous of dodgers. And +now he is close to the School goal, the ball not three yards before +him. There is a hurried rush of the School fags to the spot, but no +one throws himself on the ball, the only chance, and young Brooke has +touched it right under the School goal-posts. + +The School leaders come up furious, and administer toco to the wretched +fags nearest at hand. They may well be angry, for it is all Lombard +Street to a china orange that the School-house kick a goal with the ball +touched in such a good place. Old Brooke, of course, will kick it +out, but who shall catch and place it? Call Crab Jones. Here he comes, +sauntering along with a straw in his mouth, the queerest, coolest fish +in Rugby. If he were tumbled into the moon this minute, he would just +pick himself up without taking his hands out of his pockets or turning +a hair. But it is a moment when the boldest charger's heart beats quick. +Old Brooke stands with the ball under his arm motioning the School back; +he will not kick out till they are all in goal, behind the posts. They +are all edging forwards, inch by inch, to get nearer for the rush at +Crab Jones, who stands there in front of old Brooke to catch the ball. +If they can reach and destroy him before he catches, the danger is over; +and with one and the same rush they will carry it right away to the +School-house goal. Fond hope! it is kicked out and caught beautifully. +Crab strikes his heel into the ground, to mark the spot where the ball +was caught, beyond which the school line may not advance; but there they +stand, five deep, ready to rush the moment the ball touches the ground. +Take plenty of room. Don't give the rush a chance of reaching you. Place +it true and steady. Trust Crab Jones. He has made a small hole with his +heel for the ball to lie on, by which he is resting on one knee, with +his eye on old Brooke. “Now!” Crab places the ball at the word, old +Brooke kicks, and it rises slowly and truly as the School rush forward. + +Then a moment's pause, while both sides look up at the spinning ball. +There it flies, straight between the two posts, some five feet above the +cross-bar, an unquestioned goal; and a shout of real, genuine joy rings +out from the School-house players-up, and a faint echo of it comes over +the close from the goal-keepers under the Doctor's wall. A goal in the +first hour--such a thing hasn't been done in the School-house match +these five years. + +“Over!” is the cry. The two sides change goals, and the School-house +goal-keepers come threading their way across through the masses of +the School, the most openly triumphant of them--amongst whom is Tom, a +School-house boy of two hours' standing--getting their ears boxed in +the transit. Tom indeed is excited beyond measure, and it is all the +sixth-form boy, kindest and safest of goal-keepers, has been able to do, +to keep him from rushing out whenever the ball has been near their +goal. So he holds him by his side, and instructs him in the science of +touching. + +At this moment Griffith, the itinerant vender of oranges from Hill +Morton, enters the close with his heavy baskets. There is a rush of +small boys upon the little pale-faced man, the two sides mingling +together, subdued by the great goddess Thirst, like the English and +French by the streams in the Pyrenees. The leaders are past oranges and +apples, but some of them visit their coats, and apply innocent-looking +ginger-beer bottles to their mouths. It is no ginger-beer though, I +fear, and will do you no good. One short mad rush, and then a stitch in +the side, and no more honest play. That's what comes of those bottles. + +But now Griffith's baskets are empty, the ball is placed again midway, +and the School are going to kick off. Their leaders have sent their +lumber into goal, and rated the rest soundly, and one hundred and twenty +picked players-up are there, bent on retrieving the game. They are to +keep the ball in front of the School-house goal, and then to drive it in +by sheer strength and weight. They mean heavy play and no mistake, and +so old Brooke sees, and places Crab Jones in quarters just before the +goal, with four or five picked players who are to keep the ball away to +the sides, where a try at goal, if obtained, will be less dangerous than +in front. He himself, and Warner and Hedge, who have saved themselves +till now, will lead the charges. + +“Are you ready?” “Yes.” And away comes the ball, kicked high in the air, +to give the School time to rush on and catch it as it falls. And here +they are amongst us. Meet them like Englishmen, you Schoolhouse boys, +and charge them home. Now is the time to show what mettle is in you; +and there shall be a warm seat by the hall fire, and honour, and lots of +bottled beer to-night for him who does his duty in the next half-hour. +And they are well met. Again and again the cloud of their players-up +gathers before our goal, and comes threatening on, and Warner or Hedge, +with young Brooke and the relics of the bull-dogs, break through +and carry the ball back; and old Brooke ranges the field like Job's +war-horse. The thickest scrummage parts asunder before his rush, like +the waves before a clipper's bows; his cheery voice rings out over the +field, and his eye is everywhere. And if these miss the ball, and it +rolls dangerously in front of our goal, Crab Jones and his men +have seized it and sent it away towards the sides with the unerring +drop-kick. This is worth living for--the whole sum of school-boy +existence gathered up into one straining, struggling half-hour, a +half-hour worth a year of common life. + +The quarter to five has struck, and the play slackens for a minute +before goal; but there is Crew, the artful dodger, driving the ball in +behind our goal, on the island side, where our quarters are weakest. Is +there no one to meet him? Yes; look at little East! The ball is just at +equal distances between the two, and they rush together, the young man +of seventeen and the boy of twelve, and kick it at the same moment. Crew +passes on without a stagger; East is hurled forward by the shock, and +plunges on his shoulder, as if he would bury himself in the ground; +but the ball rises straight into the air, and falls behind Crew's back, +while the “bravoes” of the School-house attest the pluckiest charge of +all that hard-fought day. Warner picks East up lame and half stunned, +and he hobbles back into goal, conscious of having played the man. + +And now the last minutes are come, and the School gather for their last +rush, every boy of the hundred and twenty who has a run left in him. +Reckless of the defence of their own goal, on they come across the level +big-side ground, the ball well down amongst them, straight for our goal, +like the column of the Old Guard up the slope at Waterloo. All former +charges have been child's play to this. Warner and Hedge have met them, +but still on they come. The bull-dogs rush in for the last time; they +are hurled over or carried back, striving hand, foot, and eyelids. Old +Brooke comes sweeping round the skirts of the play, and turning short +round, picks out the very heart of the scrummage, and plunges in. It +wavers for a moment; he has the ball. No, it has passed him, and his +voice rings out clear over the advancing tide, “Look out in goal!” Crab +Jones catches it for a moment; but before he can kick, the rush is upon +him and passes over him; and he picks himself up behind them with his +straw in his mouth, a little dirtier, but as cool as ever. + +The ball rolls slowly in behind the School-house goal, not three yards +in front of a dozen of the biggest School players-up. + +There stands the School-house praepostor, safest of goal-keepers, and Tom +Brown by his side, who has learned his trade by this time. Now is +your time, Tom. The blood of all the Browns is up, and the two rush in +together, and throw themselves on the ball, under the very feet of the +advancing column--the praepostor on his hands and knees, arching his +back, and Tom all along on his face. Over them topple the leaders of the +rush, shooting over the back of the praepostor, but falling flat on Tom, +and knocking all the wind out of his small carcass. “Our ball,” says the +praepostor, rising with his prize; “but get up there; there's a little +fellow under you.” They are hauled and roll off him, and Tom is +discovered, a motionless body. + +Old Brooke picks him up. “Stand back, give him air,” he says; and then +feeling his limbs, adds, “No bones broken.--How do you feel, young un?” + +“Hah-hah!” gasps Tom, as his wind comes back; “pretty well, thank +you--all right.” + +“Who is he?” says Brooke. + +“Oh, it's Brown; he's a new boy; I know him,” says East, coming up. + +“Well, he is a plucky youngster, and will make a player,” says Brooke. + +And five o'clock strikes. “No side” is called, and the first day of the +School-house match is over. + + + +CHAPTER VI--AFTER THE MATCH. + + “Some food we had.”--Shakespeare. + [Greek text]--Theocr. Id. + +As the boys scattered away from the ground, and East, leaning on Tom's +arm, and limping along, was beginning to consider what luxury they +should go and buy for tea to celebrate that glorious victory, the two +Brookes came striding by. Old Brooke caught sight of East, and stopped; +put his hand kindly on his shoulder, and said, “Bravo, youngster; you +played famously. Not much the matter, I hope?” + +“No, nothing at all,” said East--“only a little twist from that +charge.” + +“Well, mind and get all right for next Saturday.” And the leader passed +on, leaving East better for those few words than all the opodeldoc in +England would have made him, and Tom ready to give one of his ears for +as much notice. Ah! light words of those whom we love and honour, what +a power ye are, and how carelessly wielded by those who can use you! +Surely for these things also God will ask an account. + +“Tea's directly after locking-up, you see,” said East, hobbling along as +fast as he could, “so you come along down to Sally Harrowell's; that's +our School-house tuck-shop. She bakes such stunning murphies, we'll have +a penn'orth each for tea. Come along, or they'll all be gone.” + +Tom's new purse and money burnt in his pocket; he wondered, as they +toddled through the quadrangle and along the street, whether East +would be insulted if he suggested further extravagance, as he had not +sufficient faith in a pennyworth of potatoes. At last he blurted out,-- + +“I say, East, can't we get something else besides potatoes? I've got +lots of money, you know.” + +“Bless us, yes; I forgot,” said East, “you've only just come. You see +all my tin's been gone this twelve weeks--it hardly ever lasts beyond +the first fortnight; and our allowances were all stopped this morning +for broken windows, so I haven't got a penny. I've got a tick at +Sally's, of course; but then I hate running it high, you see, towards +the end of the half, 'cause one has to shell out for it all directly one +comes back, and that's a bore.” + +Tom didn't understand much of this talk, but seized on the fact that +East had no money, and was denying himself some little pet luxury in +consequence. “Well, what shall I buy?” said he, “I'm uncommon hungry.” + +“I say,” said East, stopping to look at him and rest his leg, “you're a +trump, Brown. I'll do the same by you next half. Let's have a pound of +sausages then. That's the best grub for tea I know of.” + +“Very well,” said Tom, as pleased as possible; “where do they sell +them?” + +“Oh, over here, just opposite.” And they crossed the street and walked +into the cleanest little front room of a small house, half parlour, +half shop, and bought a pound of most particular sausages, East talking +pleasantly to Mrs. Porter while she put them in paper, and Tom doing the +paying part. + +From Porter's they adjourned to Sally Harrowell's, where they found a +lot of School-house boys waiting for the roast potatoes, and relating +their own exploits in the day's match at the top of their voices. The +street opened at once into Sally's kitchen, a low brick-floored room, +with large recess for fire, and chimney-corner seats. Poor little Sally, +the most good-natured and much-enduring of womankind, was bustling +about, with a napkin in her hand, from her own oven to those of the +neighbours' cottages up the yard at the back of the house. Stumps, her +husband, a short, easy-going shoemaker, with a beery, humorous eye and +ponderous calves, who lived mostly on his wife's earnings, stood in +a corner of the room, exchanging shots of the roughest description of +repartee with every boy in turn. “Stumps, you lout, you've had too +much beer again to-day.” “'Twasn't of your paying for, then.” “Stumps's +calves are running down into his ankles; they want to get to grass.” + “Better be doing that than gone altogether like yours,” etc. Very poor +stuff it was, but it served to make time pass; and every now and then +Sally arrived in the middle with a smoking tin of potatoes, which was +cleared off in a few seconds, each boy as he seized his lot running +off to the house with “Put me down two-penn'orth, Sally;” “Put down +three-penn'orth between me and Davis,” etc. How she ever kept the +accounts so straight as she did, in her head and on her slate, was a +perfect wonder. + +East and Tom got served at last, and started back for the School-house, +just as the locking-up bell began to ring, East on the way recounting +the life and adventures of Stumps, who was a character. Amongst his +other small avocations, he was the hind carrier of a sedan-chair, the +last of its race, in which the Rugby ladies still went out to tea, and +in which, when he was fairly harnessed and carrying a load, it was the +delight of small and mischievous boys to follow him and whip his calves. +This was too much for the temper even of Stumps, and he would pursue his +tormentors in a vindictive and apoplectic manner when released, but was +easily pacified by twopence to buy beer with. + +The lower-school boys of the School-house, some fifteen in number, had +tea in the lower-fifth school, and were presided over by the old verger +or head-porter. Each boy had a quarter of a loaf of bread and pat of +butter, and as much tea as he pleased; and there was scarcely one +who didn't add to this some further luxury, such as baked potatoes, a +herring, sprats, or something of the sort. But few at this period of the +half-year could live up to a pound of Porter's sausages, and East was +in great magnificence upon the strength of theirs. He had produced a +toasting-fork from his study, and set Tom to toast the sausages, +while he mounted guard over their butter and potatoes. “'Cause,” as he +explained, “you're a new boy, and they'll play you some trick and get +our butter; but you can toast just as well as I.” So Tom, in the midst +of three or four more urchins similarly employed, toasted his face and +the sausages at the same time before the huge fire, till the latter +cracked; when East from his watch-tower shouted that they were done, and +then the feast proceeded, and the festive cups of tea were filled +and emptied, and Tom imparted of the sausages in small bits to many +neighbours, and thought he had never tasted such good potatoes or seen +such jolly boys. They on their parts waived all ceremony, and pegged +away at the sausages and potatoes, and remembering Tom's performance in +goal, voted East's new crony a brick. After tea, and while the things +were being cleared away, they gathered round the fire, and the talk on +the match still went on; and those who had them to show pulled up their +trousers and showed the hacks they had received in the good cause. + +They were soon, however, all turned out of the school; and East +conducted Tom up to his bedroom, that he might get on clean things, and +wash himself before singing. + +“What's singing?” said Tom, taking his head out of his basin, where he +had been plunging it in cold water. + +“Well, you are jolly green,” answered his friend, from a neighbouring +basin. “Why, the last six Saturdays of every half we sing of course; and +this is the first of them. No first lesson to do, you know, and lie in +bed to-morrow morning.” + +“But who sings?” + +“Why, everybody, of course; you'll see soon enough. We begin directly +after supper, and sing till bed-time. It ain't such good fun now, +though, as in the summer half; 'cause then we sing in the little fives +court, under the library, you know. We take out tables, and the big boys +sit round and drink beer--double allowance on Saturday nights; and we +cut about the quadrangle between the songs, and it looks like a lot of +robbers in a cave. And the louts come and pound at the great gates, and +we pound back again, and shout at them. But this half we only sing in +the hall. Come along down to my study.” + +Their principal employment in the study was to clear out East's table; +removing the drawers and ornaments and tablecloth; for he lived in the +bottom passage, and his table was in requisition for the singing. + +Supper came in due course at seven o'clock, consisting of bread and +cheese and beer, which was all saved for the singing; and directly +afterwards the fags went to work to prepare the hall. The School-house +hall, as has been said, is a great long high room, with two large fires +on one side, and two large iron-bound tables, one running down the +middle, and the other along the wall opposite the fireplaces. Around the +upper fire the fags placed the tables in the form of a horse-shoe, and +upon them the jugs with the Saturday night's allowance of beer. Then +the big boys used to drop in and take their seats, bringing with them +bottled beer and song books; for although they all knew the songs by +heart, it was the thing to have an old manuscript book descended from +some departed hero, in which they were all carefully written out. + +The sixth-form boys had not yet appeared; so, to fill up the gap, an +interesting and time-honoured ceremony was gone through. Each new boy +was placed on the table in turn, and made to sing a solo, under the +penalty of drinking a large mug of salt and water if he resisted or +broke down. However, the new boys all sing like nightingales to-night, +and the salt water is not in requisition--Tom, as his part, performing +the old west-country song of “The Leather Bottel” with considerable +applause. And at the half-hour down come the sixth and fifth form boys, +and take their places at the tables, which are filled up by the next +biggest boys, the rest, for whom there is no room at the table, standing +round outside. + +The glasses and mugs are filled, and then the fugleman strikes up the +old sea-song, + + “A wet sheet and a flowing sea, + And a wind that follows fast,” etc., + +which is the invariable first song in the School-house; and all the +seventy voices join in, not mindful of harmony, but bent on noise, which +they attain decidedly, but the general effect isn't bad. And then follow +“The British Grenadiers,” “Billy Taylor,” “The Siege of Seringapatam,” + “Three Jolly Postboys,” and other vociferous songs in rapid succession, +including “The Chesapeake and Shannon,” a song lately introduced in +honour of old Brooke; and when they come to the words, + + “Brave Broke he waved his sword, crying, Now, my lads, aboard, + And we'll stop their playing Yankee-doodle-dandy oh!” + +you expect the roof to come down. The sixth and fifth know that “brave +Broke” of the Shannon was no sort of relation to our old Brooke. The +fourth form are uncertain in their belief, but for the most part hold +that old Brooke was a midshipman then on board his uncle's ship. And the +lower school never doubt for a moment that it was our old Brooke who led +the boarders, in what capacity they care not a straw. During the pauses +the bottled-beer corks fly rapidly, and the talk is fast and merry, and +the big boys--at least all of them who have a fellow-feeling for dry +throats--hand their mugs over their shoulders to be emptied by the small +ones who stand round behind. + +Then Warner, the head of the house, gets up and wants to speak; but he +can't, for every boy knows what's coming. And the big boys who sit at +the tables pound them and cheer; and the small boys who stand behind +pound one another, and cheer, and rush about the hall cheering. Then +silence being made, Warner reminds them of the old School-house custom +of drinking the healths, on the first night of singing, of those who are +going to leave at the end of the half. “He sees that they know what he +is going to say already” (loud cheers), “and so won't keep them, but +only ask them to treat the toast as it deserves. It is the head of the +eleven, the head of big-side football, their leader on this glorious +day--Pater Brooke!” + +And away goes the pounding and cheering again, becoming deafening when +old Brooke gets on his legs; till, a table having broken down, and a +gallon or so of beer been upset, and all throats getting dry, silence +ensues, and the hero speaks, leaning his hands on the table, and bending +a little forwards. No action, no tricks of oratory--plain, strong, and +straight, like his play. + +“Gentlemen of the School-house! I am very proud of the way in which +you have received my name, and I wish I could say all I should like in +return. But I know I shan't. However, I'll do the best I can to say what +seems to me ought to be said by a fellow who's just going to leave, +and who has spent a good slice of his life here. Eight years it is, and +eight such years as I can never hope to have again. So now I hope you'll +all listen to me” (loud cheers of “That we will”), “for I'm going to +talk seriously. You're bound to listen to me for what's the use of +calling me 'pater,' and all that, if you don't mind what I say? And +I'm going to talk seriously, because I feel so. It's a jolly time, +too, getting to the end of the half, and a goal kicked by us first day” + (tremendous applause), “after one of the hardest and fiercest day's play +I can remember in eight years.” (Frantic shoutings.) “The School played +splendidly, too, I will say, and kept it up to the last. That last +charge of theirs would have carried away a house. I never thought to see +anything again of old Crab there, except little pieces, when I saw him +tumbled over by it.” (Laughter and shouting, and great slapping on +the back of Jones by the boys nearest him.) “Well, but we beat 'em.” + (Cheers.) “Ay, but why did we beat 'em? Answer me that.” (Shouts of +“Your play.”) “Nonsense! 'Twasn't the wind and kick-off either--that +wouldn't do it. 'Twasn't because we've half a dozen of the best players +in the school, as we have. I wouldn't change Warner, and Hedge, and +Crab, and the young un, for any six on their side.” (Violent cheers.) +“But half a dozen fellows can't keep it up for two hours against two +hundred. Why is it, then? I'll tell you what I think. It's because we've +more reliance on one another, more of a house feeling, more fellowship +than the School can have. Each of us knows and can depend on his +next-hand man better. That's why we beat 'em to-day. We've union, +they've division--there's the secret.” (Cheers.) “But how's this to be +kept up? How's it to be improved? That's the question. For I take it +we're all in earnest about beating the School, whatever else we care +about. I know I'd sooner win two School-house matches running than get +the Balliol scholarship any day.” (Frantic cheers.) + +“Now, I'm as proud of the house as any one. I believe it's the best +house in the school, out and out.” (Cheers.) “But it's a long way from +what I want to see it. First, there's a deal of bullying going on. I +know it well. I don't pry about and interfere; that only makes it +more underhand, and encourages the small boys to come to us with their +fingers in their eyes telling tales, and so we should be worse off than +ever. It's very little kindness for the sixth to meddle generally--you +youngsters mind that. You'll be all the better football players for +learning to stand it, and to take your own parts, and fight it through. +But depend on it, there's nothing breaks up a house like bullying. +Bullies are cowards, and one coward makes many; so good-bye to the +School-house match if bullying gets ahead here.” (Loud applause from +the small boys, who look meaningly at Flashman and other boys at the +tables.) “Then there's fuddling about in the public-house, and drinking +bad spirits, and punch, and such rot-gut stuff. That won't make good +drop-kicks or chargers of you, take my word for it. You get plenty of +good beer here, and that's enough for you; and drinking isn't fine or +manly, whatever some of you may think of it. + +“One other thing I must have a word about. A lot of you think and say, +for I've heard you, 'There's this new Doctor hasn't been here so long +as some of us, and he's changing all the old customs. Rugby, and the +Schoolhouse especially, are going to the dogs. Stand up for the good old +ways, and down with the Doctor!' Now I'm as fond of old Rugby customs +and ways as any of you, and I've been here longer than any of you, and +I'll give you a word of advice in time, for I shouldn't like to see any +of you getting sacked. 'Down with the Doctor's' easier said than done. +You'll find him pretty tight on his perch, I take it, and an awkwardish +customer to handle in that line. Besides now, what customs has he put +down? There was the good old custom of taking the linchpins out of the +farmers' and bagmen's gigs at the fairs, and a cowardly, blackguard +custom it was. We all know what came of it, and no wonder the Doctor +objected to it. But come now, any of you, name a custom that he has put +down.” + +“The hounds,” calls out a fifth-form boy, clad in a green cutaway with +brass buttons and cord trousers, the leader of the sporting interest, +and reputed a great rider and keen hand generally. + +“Well, we had six or seven mangy harriers and beagles belonging to the +house, I'll allow, and had had them for years, and that the Doctor +put them down. But what good ever came of them? Only rows with all the +keepers for ten miles round; and big-side hare-and-hounds is better fun +ten times over. What else?” + +No answer. + +“Well, I won't go on. Think it over for yourselves. You'll find, I +believe, that he don't meddle with any one that's worth keeping. And +mind now, I say again, look out for squalls if you will go your own way, +and that way ain't the Doctor's, for it'll lead to grief. You all know +that I'm not the fellow to back a master through thick and thin. If I +saw him stopping football, or cricket, or bathing, or sparring, I'd be +as ready as any fellow to stand up about it. But he don't; he encourages +them. Didn't you see him out to-day for half an hour watching us?” (loud +cheers for the Doctor); “and he's a strong, true man, and a wise one +too, and a public-school man too” (cheers), “and so let's stick to him, +and talk no more rot, and drink his health as the head of the house.” + (Loud cheers.) “And now I've done blowing up, and very glad I am to have +done. But it's a solemn thing to be thinking of leaving a place which +one has lived in and loved for eight years; and if one can say a word +for the good of the old house at such a time, why, it should be said, +whether bitter or sweet. If I hadn't been proud of the house and +you--ay, no one knows how proud--I shouldn't be blowing you up. And now +let's get to singing. But before I sit down I must give you a toast to +be drunk with three-times-three and all the honours. It's a toast which +I hope every one of us, wherever he may go hereafter, will never fail +to drink when he thinks of the brave, bright days of his boyhood. It's a +toast which should bind us all together, and to those who've gone before +and who'll come after us here. It is the dear old School-house--the best +house of the best school in England!” + +My dear boys, old and young, you who have belonged, or do belong, to +other schools and other houses, don't begin throwing my poor little book +about the room, and abusing me and it, and vowing you'll read no more +when you get to this point. I allow you've provocation for it. But come +now--would you, any of you, give a fig for a fellow who didn't believe +in and stand up for his own house and his own school? You know you +wouldn't. Then don't object to me cracking up the old School house, +Rugby. Haven't I a right to do it, when I'm taking all the trouble +of writing this true history for all of your benefits? If you ain't +satisfied, go and write the history of your own houses in your own +times, and say all you know for your own schools and houses, provided +it's true, and I'll read it without abusing you. + +The last few words hit the audience in their weakest place. They had +been not altogether enthusiastic at several parts of old Brooke's +speech; but “the best house of the best school in England” was too much +for them all, and carried even the sporting and drinking interests off +their legs into rapturous applause, and (it is to be hoped) resolutions +to lead a new life and remember old Brooke's words--which, however, they +didn't altogether do, as will appear hereafter. + +But it required all old Brooke's popularity to carry down parts of his +speech--especially that relating to the Doctor. For there are no such +bigoted holders by established forms and customs, be they never so +foolish or meaningless, as English school-boys--at least, as the +school-boys of our generation. We magnified into heroes every boy who +had left, and looked upon him with awe and reverence when he revisited +the place a year or so afterwards, on his way to or from Oxford or +Cambridge; and happy was the boy who remembered him, and sure of an +audience as he expounded what he used to do and say, though it were sad +enough stuff to make angels, not to say head-masters, weep. + +We looked upon every trumpery little custom and habit which had obtained +in the School as though it had been a law of the Medes and Persians, and +regarded the infringement or variation of it as a sort of sacrilege. And +the Doctor, than whom no man or boy had a stronger liking for old school +customs which were good and sensible, had, as has already been hinted, +come into most decided collision with several which were neither the one +nor the other. And as old Brooke had said, when he came into collision +with boys or customs, there was nothing for them but to give in or take +themselves off; because what he said had to be done, and no mistake +about it. And this was beginning to be pretty clearly understood. The +boys felt that there was a strong man over them, who would have things +his own way, and hadn't yet learnt that he was a wise and loving man +also. His personal character and influence had not had time to make +itself felt, except by a very few of the bigger boys with whom he came +more directly into contact; and he was looked upon with great fear and +dislike by the great majority even of his own house. For he had found +School and School-house in a state of monstrous license and misrule, +and was still employed in the necessary but unpopular work of setting up +order with a strong hand. + +However, as has been said, old Brooke triumphed, and the boys cheered +him and then the Doctor. And then more songs came, and the healths of +the other boys about to leave, who each made a speech, one flowery, +another maudlin, a third prosy, and so on, which are not necessary to be +here recorded. + +Half-past nine struck in the middle of the performance of “Auld Lang +Syne,” a most obstreperous proceeding, during which there was an immense +amount of standing with one foot on the table, knocking mugs together +and shaking hands, without which accompaniments it seems impossible +for the youths of Britain to take part in that famous old song. The +under-porter of the School-house entered during the performance, bearing +five or six long wooden candlesticks with lighted dips in them, which he +proceeded to stick into their holes in such part of the great tables +as he could get at; and then stood outside the ring till the end of the +song, when he was hailed with shouts. + +“Bill you old muff, the half-hour hasn't struck.” “Here, Bill, drink +some cocktail.” “Sing us a song, old boy.” “Don't you wish you may +get the table?” Bill drank the proffered cocktail not unwillingly, and +putting down the empty glass, remonstrated. “Now gentlemen, there's only +ten minutes to prayers, and we must get the hall straight.” + +Shouts of “No, no!” and a violent effort to strike up “Billy Taylor” for +the third time. Bill looked appealingly to old Brooke, who got up and +stopped the noise. “Now then, lend a hand, you youngsters, and get the +tables back; clear away the jugs and glasses. Bill's right. Open +the windows, Warner.” The boy addressed, who sat by the long ropes, +proceeded to pull up the great windows, and let in a clear, fresh rush +of night air, which made the candles flicker and gutter, and the fires +roar. The circle broke up, each collaring his own jug, glass, and +song-book; Bill pounced on the big table, and began to rattle it away to +its place outside the buttery door. The lower-passage boys carried off +their small tables, aided by their friends; while above all, standing +on the great hall-table, a knot of untiring sons of harmony made night +doleful by a prolonged performance of “God Save the King.” His Majesty +King William the Fourth then reigned over us, a monarch deservedly +popular amongst the boys addicted to melody, to whom he was chiefly +known from the beginning of that excellent if slightly vulgar song in +which they much delighted,-- + + “Come, neighbours all, both great and small, + Perform your duties here, + And loudly sing, 'Live Billy, our king,' + For bating the tax upon beer.” + +Others of the more learned in songs also celebrated his praises in +a sort of ballad, which I take to have been written by some Irish +loyalist. I have forgotten all but the chorus, which ran,-- + + “God save our good King William, + Be his name for ever blest; + He's the father of all his people, + And the guardian of all the rest.” + +In troth we were loyal subjects in those days, in a rough way. I trust +that our successors make as much of her present Majesty, and, having +regard to the greater refinement of the times, have adopted or written +other songs equally hearty, but more civilized, in her honour. + +Then the quarter to ten struck, and the prayer-bell rang. The sixth and +fifth form boys ranged themselves in their school order along the wall, +on either side of the great fires, the middle-fifth and upper-school +boys round the long table in the middle of the hall, and the +lower-school boys round the upper part of the second long table, which +ran down the side of the hall farthest from the fires. Here Tom found +himself at the bottom of all, in a state of mind and body not at all fit +for prayers, as he thought; and so tried hard to make himself serious, +but couldn't, for the life of him, do anything but repeat in his head +the choruses of some of the songs, and stare at all the boys opposite, +wondering at the brilliancy of their waistcoats, and speculating what +sort of fellows they were. The steps of the head-porter are heard on the +stairs, and a light gleams at the door. “Hush!” from the fifth-form boys +who stand there, and then in strides the Doctor, cap on head, book +in one hand, and gathering up his gown in the other. He walks up the +middle, and takes his post by Warner, who begins calling over the names. +The Doctor takes no notice of anything, but quietly turns over his book +and finds the place, and then stands, cap in hand and finger in book, +looking straight before his nose. He knows better than any one when to +look, and when to see nothing. To-night is singing night, and there's +been lots of noise and no harm done--nothing but beer drunk, and nobody +the worse for it, though some of them do look hot and excited. So the +Doctor sees nothing, but fascinates Tom in a horrible manner as he +stands there, and reads out the psalm, in that deep, ringing, searching +voice of his. Prayers are over, and Tom still stares open-mouthed after +the Doctor's retiring figure, when he feels a pull at his sleeve, and +turning round, sees East. + +“I say, were you ever tossed in a blanket?” + +“No,” said Tom; “why?” + +“'Cause there'll be tossing to-night, most likely, before the sixth come +up to bed. So if you funk, you just come along and hide, or else they'll +catch you and toss you.” + +“Were you ever tossed? Does it hurt?” inquired Tom. + +“Oh yes, bless you, a dozen times,” said East, as he hobbled along by +Tom's side upstairs. “It don't hurt unless you fall on the floor. But +most fellows don't like it.” + +They stopped at the fireplace in the top passage, where were a crowd of +small boys whispering together, and evidently unwilling to go up +into the bedrooms. In a minute, however, a study door opened, and a +sixth-form boy came out, and off they all scuttled up the stairs, and +then noiselessly dispersed to their different rooms. Tom's heart beat +rather quick as he and East reached their room, but he had made up his +mind. “I shan't hide, East,” said he. + +“Very well, old fellow,” replied East, evidently pleased; “no more shall +I. They'll be here for us directly.” + +The room was a great big one, with a dozen beds in it, but not a boy +that Tom could see except East and himself. East pulled off his coat and +waistcoat, and then sat on the bottom of his bed whistling and pulling +off his boots. Tom followed his example. + +A noise and steps are heard in the passage, the door opens, and in rush +four or five great fifth-form boys, headed by Flashman in his glory. + +Tom and East slept in the farther corner of the room, and were not seen +at first. + +“Gone to ground, eh?” roared Flashman. “Push 'em out then, boys; look +under the beds.” And he pulled up the little white curtain of the one +nearest him. “Who-o-op!” he roared, pulling away at the leg of a small +boy, who held on tight to the leg of the bed, and sang out lustily for +mercy. + +“Here, lend a hand, one of you, and help me pull out this young howling +brute.--Hold your tongue, sir, or I'll kill you.” + +“Oh, please, Flashman, please, Walker, don't toss me! I'll fag for +you--I'll do anything--only don't toss me.” + +“You be hanged,” said Flashman, lugging the wretched boy along; “'twon't +hurt you,--you!--Come along, boys; here he is.” + +“I say, Flashey,” sang out another of the big boys; “drop that; you +heard what old Pater Brooke said to-night. I'll be hanged if we'll toss +any one against their will. No more bullying. Let him go, I say.” + +Flashman, with an oath and a kick, released his prey, who rushed +headlong under his bed again, for fear they should change their minds, +and crept along underneath the other beds, till he got under that of the +sixth-form boy, which he knew they daren't disturb. + +“There's plenty of youngsters don't care about it,” said Walker. “Here, +here's Scud East--you'll be tossed, won't you, young un?” Scud was +East's nickname, or Black, as we called it, gained by his fleetness of +foot. + +“Yes,” said East, “if you like, only mind my foot.” + +“And here's another who didn't hide.--Hullo! new boy; what's your name, +sir?” + +“Brown.” + +“Well, Whitey Brown, you don't mind being tossed?” + +“No,” said Tom, setting his teeth. + +“Come along then, boys,” sang out Walker; and away they all went, +carrying along Tom and East, to the intense relief of four or five other +small boys, who crept out from under the beds and behind them. + +“What a trump Scud is!” said one. “They won't come back here now.” + +“And that new boy, too; he must be a good-plucked one.” + +“Ah! wait till he has been tossed on to the floor; see how he'll like it +then!” + +Meantime the procession went down the passage to Number 7, the largest +room, and the scene of the tossing, in the middle of which was a great +open space. Here they joined other parties of the bigger boys, each +with a captive or two, some willing to be tossed, some sullen, and some +frightened to death. At Walker's suggestion all who were afraid were let +off, in honour of Pater Brooke's speech. + +Then a dozen big boys seized hold of a blanket, dragged from one of the +beds. “In with Scud; quick! there's no time to lose.” East was chucked +into the blanket. “Once, twice, thrice, and away!” Up he went like a +shuttlecock, but not quite up to the ceiling. + +“Now, boys, with a will,” cried Walker; “once, twice, thrice, and away!” + This time he went clean up, and kept himself from touching the ceiling +with his hand, and so again a third time, when he was turned out, and +up went another boy. And then came Tom's turn. He lay quite still, by +East's advice, and didn't dislike the “once, twice, thrice;” but the +“away” wasn't so pleasant. They were in good wind now, and sent him +slap up to the ceiling first time, against which his knees came rather +sharply. But the moment's pause before descending was the rub--the +feeling of utter helplessness and of leaving his whole inside behind him +sticking to the ceiling. Tom was very near shouting to be set down when +he found himself back in the blanket, but thought of East, and didn't; +and so took his three tosses without a kick or a cry, and was called a +young trump for his pains. + +He and East, having earned it, stood now looking on. No catastrophe +happened, as all the captives were cool hands, and didn't struggle. This +didn't suit Flashman. What your real bully likes in tossing is when the +boys kick and struggle, or hold on to one side of the blanket, and so +get pitched bodily on to the floor; it's no fun to him when no one is +hurt or frightened. + +“Let's toss two of them together, Walker,” suggested he. + +“What a cursed bully you are, Flashey!” rejoined the other. “Up with +another one.” + +And so now two boys were tossed together, the peculiar hardship of which +is, that it's too much for human nature to lie still then and share +troubles; and so the wretched pair of small boys struggle in the air +which shall fall a-top in the descent, to the no small risk of both +falling out of the blanket, and the huge delight of brutes like +Flashman. + +But now there's a cry that the praepostor of the room is coming; so the +tossing stops, and all scatter to their different rooms; and Tom is +left to turn in, with the first day's experience of a public school to +meditate upon. + + + +CHAPTER VII--SETTLING TO THE COLLAR. + + “Says Giles, ''Tis mortal hard to go, + But if so be's I must + I means to follow arter he + As goes hisself the fust.'”--Ballad. + +Everybody, I suppose, knows the dreamy, delicious state in which one +lies, half asleep, half awake, while consciousness begins to return +after a sound night's rest in a new place which we are glad to be in, +following upon a day of unwonted excitement and exertion. There are +few pleasanter pieces of life. The worst of it is that they last such +a short time; for nurse them as you will, by lying perfectly passive +in mind and body, you can't make more than five minutes or so of them. +After which time the stupid, obtrusive, wakeful entity which we call +“I”, as impatient as he is stiff-necked, spite of our teeth will force +himself back again, and take possession of us down to our very toes. + +It was in this state that Master Tom lay at half-past seven on the +morning following the day of his arrival, and from his clean little +white bed watched the movements of Bogle (the generic name by which the +successive shoeblacks of the School-house were known), as he marched +round from bed to bed, collecting the dirty shoes and boots, and +depositing clean ones in their places. + +There he lay, half doubtful as to where exactly in the universe he was, +but conscious that he had made a step in life which he had been anxious +to make. It was only just light as he looked lazily out of the wide +windows, and saw the tops of the great elms, and the rooks circling +about and cawing remonstrances to the lazy ones of their commonwealth +before starting in a body for the neighbouring ploughed fields. The +noise of the room-door closing behind Bogle, as he made his exit with +the shoebasket under his arm, roused him thoroughly, and he sat up in +bed and looked round the room. What in the world could be the matter +with his shoulders and loins? He felt as if he had been severely beaten +all down his back--the natural results of his performance at his first +match. He drew up his knees and rested his chin on them, and went over +all the events of yesterday, rejoicing in his new life, what he had seen +of it, and all that was to come. + +Presently one or two of the other boys roused themselves, and began to +sit up and talk to one another in low tones. Then East, after a roll +or two, came to an anchor also, and nodding to Tom, began examining his +ankle. + +“What a pull,” said he, “that it's lie-in-bed, for I shall be as lame as +a tree, I think.” + +It was Sunday morning, and Sunday lectures had not yet been established; +so that nothing but breakfast intervened between bed and eleven o'clock +chapel--a gap by no means easy to fill up: in fact, though received with +the correct amount of grumbling, the first lecture instituted by +the Doctor shortly afterwards was a great boon to the School. It was +lie-in-bed, and no one was in a hurry to get up, especially in rooms +where the sixth-form boy was a good-tempered fellow, as was the case in +Tom's room, and allowed the small boys to talk and laugh and do pretty +much what they pleased, so long as they didn't disturb him. His bed was +a bigger one than the rest, standing in the corner by the fireplace, +with a washing-stand and large basin by the side, where he lay in state +with his white curtains tucked in so as to form a retiring place--an +awful subject of contemplation to Tom, who slept nearly opposite, and +watched the great man rouse himself and take a book from under his +pillow, and begin reading, leaning his head on his hand, and turning his +back to the room. Soon, however, a noise of striving urchins arose, and +muttered encouragements from the neighbouring boys of “Go it, Tadpole!” + “Now, young Green!” “Haul away his blanket!” “Slipper him on the hands!” + Young Green and little Hall, commonly called Tadpole, from his great +black head and thin legs, slept side by side far away by the door, and +were for ever playing one another tricks, which usually ended, as on +this morning, in open and violent collision; and now, unmindful of all +order and authority, there they were, each hauling away at the other's +bedclothes with one hand, and with the other, armed with a slipper, +belabouring whatever portion of the body of his adversary came within +reach. + +“Hold that noise up in the corner,” called out the praepostor, sitting +up and looking round his curtains; and the Tadpole and young Green sank +down into their disordered beds; and then, looking at his watch, added, +“Hullo! past eight. Whose turn for hot water?” + +(Where the praepostor was particular in his ablutions, the fags in his +room had to descend in turn to the kitchen, and beg or steal hot water +for him; and often the custom extended farther, and two boys went down +every morning to get a supply for the whole room.) + +“East's and Tadpole's,” answered the senior fag, who kept the rota. + +“I can't go,” said East; “I'm dead lame.” + +“Well, be quick some of you, that's all,” said the great man, as he +turned out of bed, and putting on his slippers, went out into the great +passage, which runs the whole length of the bedrooms, to get his Sunday +habiliments out of his portmanteau. + +“Let me go for you,” said Tom to East; “I should like it.” + +“Well, thank 'ee, that's a good fellow. Just pull on your trousers, and +take your jug and mine. Tadpole will show you the way.” + +And so Tom and the Tadpole, in nightshirts and trousers, started off +downstairs, and through “Thos's hole,” as the little buttery, where +candles and beer and bread and cheese were served out at night, was +called, across the School-house court, down a long passage, and into the +kitchen; where, after some parley with the stalwart, handsome cook, who +declared that she had filled a dozen jugs already, they got their hot +water, and returned with all speed and great caution. As it was, they +narrowly escaped capture by some privateers from the fifth-form rooms, +who were on the lookout for the hot-water convoys, and pursued them up +to the very door of their room, making them spill half their load in the +passage. + +“Better than going down again though,” as Tadpole remarked, “as we +should have had to do if those beggars had caught us.” + +By the time that the calling-over bell rang, Tom and his new +comrades were all down, dressed in their best clothes, and he had the +satisfaction of answering “here” to his name for the first time, the +praepostor of the week having put it in at the bottom of his list. And +then came breakfast and a saunter about the close and town with East, +whose lameness only became severe when any fagging had to be done. And +so they whiled away the time until morning chapel. + +It was a fine November morning, and the close soon became alive with +boys of all ages, who sauntered about on the grass, or walked round the +gravel walk, in parties of two or three. East, still doing the cicerone, +pointed out all the remarkable characters to Tom as they passed: Osbert, +who could throw a cricket-ball from the little-side ground over +the rook-trees to the Doctor's wall; Gray, who had got the Balliol +scholarship, and, what East evidently thought of much more importance, +a half-holiday for the School by his success; Thorne, who had run ten +miles in two minutes over the hour; Black, who had held his own against +the cock of the town in the last row with the louts; and many more +heroes, who then and there walked about and were worshipped, all trace +of whom has long since vanished from the scene of their fame. And the +fourth-form boy who reads their names rudely cut on the old hall tables, +or painted upon the big-side cupboard (if hall tables and big-side +cupboards still exist), wonders what manner of boys they were. It will +be the same with you who wonder, my sons, whatever your prowess may be +in cricket, or scholarship, or football. Two or three years, more or +less, and then the steadily advancing, blessed wave will pass over your +names as it has passed over ours. Nevertheless, play your games and do +your work manfully--see only that that be done--and let the remembrance +of it take care of itself. + +The chapel-bell began to ring at a quarter to eleven, and Tom got in +early and took his place in the lowest row, and watched all the other +boys come in and take their places, filling row after row; and tried +to construe the Greek text which was inscribed over the door with the +slightest possible success, and wondered which of the masters, who +walked down the chapel and took their seats in the exalted boxes at the +end, would be his lord. And then came the closing of the doors, and the +Doctor in his robes, and the service, which, however, didn't impress him +much, for his feeling of wonder and curiosity was too strong. And the +boy on one side of him was scratching his name on the oak panelling +in front, and he couldn't help watching to see what the name was, and +whether it was well scratched; and the boy on the other side went to +sleep, and kept falling against him; and on the whole, though many boys +even in that part of the school were serious and attentive, the general +atmosphere was by no means devotional; and when he got out into the +close again, he didn't feel at all comfortable, or as if he had been to +church. + +But at afternoon chapel it was quite another thing. He had spent the +time after dinner in writing home to his mother, and so was in a better +frame of mind; and his first curiosity was over, and he could attend +more to the service. As the hymn after the prayers was being sung, and +the chapel was getting a little dark, he was beginning to feel that he +had been really worshipping. And then came that great event in his, as +in every Rugby boy's life of that day--the first sermon from the Doctor. + +More worthy pens than mine have described that scene--the oak pulpit +standing out by itself above the School seats; the tall, gallant form, +the kindling eye, the voice, now soft as the low notes of a flute, now +clear and stirring as the call of the light-infantry bugle, of him who +stood there Sunday after Sunday, witnessing and pleading for his Lord, +the King of righteousness and love and glory, with whose Spirit he was +filled, and in whose power he spoke; the long lines of young faces, +rising tier above tier down the whole length of the chapel, from the +little boy's who had just left his mother to the young man's who was +going out next week into the great world, rejoicing in his strength. +It was a great and solemn sight, and never more so than at this time of +year, when the only lights in the chapel were in the pulpit and at the +seats of the praepostors of the week, and the soft twilight stole over +the rest of the chapel, deepening into darkness in the high gallery +behind the organ. + +But what was it, after all, which seized and held these three hundred +boys, dragging them out of themselves, willing or unwilling, for twenty +minutes, on Sunday afternoons? True, there always were boys scattered up +and down the School, who in heart and head were worthy to hear and able +to carry away the deepest and wisest words there spoken. But these were +a minority always, generally a very small one, often so small a one as +to be countable on the fingers of your hand. What was it that moved +and held us, the rest of the three hundred reckless, childish boys, who +feared the Doctor with all our hearts, and very little besides in heaven +or earth; who thought more of our sets in the School than of the Church +of Christ, and put the traditions of Rugby and the public opinion of +boys in our daily life above the laws of God? We couldn't enter into +half that we heard; we hadn't the knowledge of our own hearts or the +knowledge of one another, and little enough of the faith, hope, and love +needed to that end. But we listened, as all boys in their better moods +will listen (ay, and men too for the matter of that), to a man whom we +felt to be, with all his heart and soul and strength, striving against +whatever was mean and unmanly and unrighteous in our little world. It +was not the cold, clear voice of one giving advice and warning from +serene heights to those who were struggling and sinning below, but the +warm, living voice of one who was fighting for us and by our sides, and +calling on us to help him and ourselves and one another. And so, wearily +and little by little, but surely and steadily on the whole, was brought +home to the young boy, for the first time, the meaning of his life--that +it was no fool's or sluggard's paradise into which he had wandered +by chance, but a battlefield ordained from of old, where there are no +spectators, but the youngest must take his side, and the stakes are life +and death. And he who roused this consciousness in them showed them at +the same time, by every word he spoke in the pulpit, and by his whole +daily life, how that battle was to be fought, and stood there before +them their fellow-soldier and the captain of their band--the true sort +of captain, too, for a boy's army--one who had no misgivings, and gave +no uncertain word of command, and, let who would yield or make truce, +would fight the fight out (so every boy felt) to the last gasp and the +last drop of blood. Other sides of his character might take hold of +and influence boys here and there; but it was this thoroughness and +undaunted courage which, more than anything else, won his way to the +hearts of the great mass of those on whom he left his mark, and made +them believe first in him and then in his Master. + +It was this quality above all others which moved such boys as our +hero, who had nothing whatever remarkable about him except excess of +boyishness--by which I mean animal life in its fullest measure, good +nature and honest impulses, hatred of injustice and meanness, and +thoughtlessness enough to sink a three-decker. And so, during the next +two years, in which it was more than doubtful whether he would get good +or evil from the School, and before any steady purpose or principle grew +up in him, whatever his week's sins and shortcomings might have been, he +hardly ever left the chapel on Sunday evenings without a serious resolve +to stand by and follow the Doctor, and a feeling that it was only +cowardice (the incarnation of all other sins in such a boy's mind) which +hindered him from doing so with all his heart. + +The next day Tom was duly placed in the third form, and began his +lessons in a corner of the big School. He found the work very easy, as +he had been well grounded, and knew his grammar by heart; and, as he had +no intimate companions to make him idle (East and his other School-house +friends being in the lower fourth, the form above him), soon gained +golden opinions from his master, who said he was placed too low, and +should be put out at the end of the half-year. So all went well with him +in School, and he wrote the most flourishing letters home to his mother, +full of his own success and the unspeakable delights of a public school. + +In the house, too, all went well. The end of the half-year was drawing +near, which kept everybody in a good humour, and the house was ruled +well and strongly by Warner and Brooke. True, the general system was +rough and hard, and there was bullying in nooks and corners--bad signs +for the future; but it never got farther, or dared show itself openly, +stalking about the passages and hall and bedrooms, and making the life +of the small boys a continual fear. + +Tom, as a new boy, was of right excused fagging for the first month, but +in his enthusiasm for his new life this privilege hardly pleased him; +and East and others of his young friends, discovering this, kindly +allowed him to indulge his fancy, and take their turns at night fagging +and cleaning studies. These were the principal duties of the fags in the +house. From supper until nine o'clock three fags taken in order stood in +the passages, and answered any praepostor who called “Fag,” racing to the +door, the last comer having to do the work. This consisted generally of +going to the buttery for beer and bread and cheese (for the great men +did not sup with the rest, but had each his own allowance in his study +or the fifth-form room), cleaning candlesticks and putting in new +candles, toasting cheese, bottling beer, and carrying messages about the +house; and Tom, in the first blush of his hero-worship, felt it a high +privilege to receive orders from and be the bearer of the supper of old +Brooke. And besides this night-work, each praepostor had three or four +fags specially allotted to him, of whom he was supposed to be the guide, +philosopher, and friend, and who in return for these good offices had to +clean out his study every morning by turns, directly after first lesson +and before he returned from breakfast. And the pleasure of seeing the +great men's studies, and looking at their pictures, and peeping into +their books, made Tom a ready substitute for any boy who was too lazy to +do his own work. And so he soon gained the character of a good-natured, +willing fellow, who was ready to do a turn for any one. + +In all the games, too, he joined with all his heart, and soon became +well versed in all the mysteries of football, by continual practice at +the School-house little-side, which played daily. + +The only incident worth recording here, however, was his first run at +hare-and-hounds. On the last Tuesday but one of the half-year he was +passing through the hall after dinner, when he was hailed with shouts +from Tadpole and several other fags seated at one of the long tables, +the chorus of which was, “Come and help us tear up scent.” + +Tom approached the table in obedience to the mysterious summons, always +ready to help, and found the party engaged in tearing up old newspapers, +copy-books, and magazines, into small pieces, with which they were +filling four large canvas bags. + +“It's the turn of our house to find scent for big-side hare-and-hounds,” + exclaimed Tadpole. “Tear away; there's no time to lose before +calling-over.” + +“I think it's a great shame,” said another small boy, “to have such a +hard run for the last day.” + +“Which run is it?” said Tadpole. + +“Oh, the Barby run, I hear,” answered the other; “nine miles at least, +and hard ground; no chance of getting in at the finish, unless you're a +first-rate scud.” + +“Well, I'm going to have a try,” said Tadpole; “it's the last run of the +half, and if a fellow gets in at the end big-side stands ale and bread +and cheese and a bowl of punch; and the Cock's such a famous place for +ale.” + +“I should like to try too,” said Tom. + +“Well, then, leave your waistcoat behind, and listen at the door, after +calling-over, and you'll hear where the meet is.” + +After calling-over, sure enough there were two boys at the door, calling +out, “Big-side hare-and-hounds meet at White Hall;” and Tom, having +girded himself with leather strap, and left all superfluous clothing +behind, set off for White Hall, an old gable-ended house some quarter +of a mile from the town, with East, whom he had persuaded to join, +notwithstanding his prophecy that they could never get in, as it was the +hardest run of the year. + +At the meet they found some forty or fifty boys, and Tom felt sure, from +having seen many of them run at football, that he and East were more +likely to get in than they. + +After a few minutes' waiting, two well-known runners, chosen for the +hares, buckled on the four bags filled with scent, compared their +watches with those of young Brooke and Thorne, and started off at a +long, slinging trot across the fields in the direction of Barby. + +Then the hounds clustered round Thorne, who explained shortly, “They're +to have six minutes' law. We run into the Cock, and every one who comes +in within a quarter of an hour of the hares'll be counted, if he has +been round Barby church.” Then came a minute's pause or so, and then the +watches are pocketed, and the pack is led through the gateway into the +field which the hares had first crossed. Here they break into a trot, +scattering over the field to find the first traces of the scent which +the hares throw out as they go along. The old hounds make straight for +the likely points, and in a minute a cry of “Forward” comes from one +of them, and the whole pack, quickening their pace, make for the spot, +while the boy who hit the scent first, and the two or three nearest to +him, are over the first fence, and making play along the hedgerow in the +long grass-field beyond. The rest of the pack rush at the gap already +made, and scramble through, jostling one another. “Forward” again, +before they are half through. The pace quickens into a sharp run, the +tail hounds all straining to get up to the lucky leaders. They are +gallant hares, and the scent lies thick right across another meadow and +into a ploughed field, where the pace begins to tell; then over a good +wattle with a ditch on the other side, and down a large pasture studded +with old thorns, which slopes down to the first brook. The great +Leicestershire sheep charge away across the field as the pack comes +racing down the slope. The brook is a small one, and the scent lies +right ahead up the opposite slope, and as thick as ever--not a turn or +a check to favour the tail hounds, who strain on, now trailing in a long +line, many a youngster beginning to drag his legs heavily, and feel his +heart beat like a hammer, and the bad-plucked ones thinking that after +all it isn't worth while to keep it up. + +Tom, East, and the Tadpole had a good start, and are well up for such +young hands, and after rising the slope and crossing the next field, +find themselves up with the leading hounds, who have overrun the scent, +and are trying back. They have come a mile and a half in about eleven +minutes, a pace which shows that it is the last day. About twenty-five +of the original starters only show here, the rest having already given +in; the leaders are busy making casts into the fields on the left and +right, and the others get their second winds. + +Then comes the cry of “Forward” again from young Brooke, from the +extreme left, and the pack settles down to work again steadily and +doggedly, the whole keeping pretty well together. The scent, though +still good, is not so thick; there is no need of that, for in this part +of the run every one knows the line which must be taken, and so there +are no casts to be made, but good downright running and fencing to be +done. All who are now up mean coming in, and they come to the foot of +Barby Hill without losing more than two or three more of the pack. This +last straight two miles and a half is always a vantage ground for the +hounds, and the hares know it well; they are generally viewed on the +side of Barby Hill, and all eyes are on the lookout for them to-day. But +not a sign of them appears, so now will be the hard work for the hounds, +and there is nothing for it but to cast about for the scent, for it is +now the hares' turn, and they may baffle the pack dreadfully in the next +two miles. + +Ill fares it now with our youngsters, that they are School-house boys, +and so follow young Brooke, for he takes the wide casts round to the +left, conscious of his own powers, and loving the hard work. For if you +would consider for a moment, you small boys, you would remember that the +Cock, where the run ends and the good ale will be going, lies far out to +the right on the Dunchurch road, so that every cast you take to the left +is so much extra work. And at this stage of the run, when the evening is +closing in already, no one remarks whether you run a little cunning or +not; so you should stick to those crafty hounds who keep edging away to +the right, and not follow a prodigal like young Brooke, whose legs are +twice as long as yours and of cast-iron, wholly indifferent to one or +two miles more or less. However, they struggle after him, sobbing and +plunging along, Tom and East pretty close, and Tadpole, whose big head +begins to pull him down, some thirty yards behind. + +Now comes a brook, with stiff clay banks, from which they can hardly +drag their legs, and they hear faint cries for help from the wretched +Tadpole, who has fairly stuck fast. But they have too little run left +in themselves to pull up for their own brothers. Three fields more, and +another check, and then “Forward” called away to the extreme right. + +The two boys' souls die within them; they can never do it. Young Brooke +thinks so too, and says kindly, “You'll cross a lane after next field; +keep down it, and you'll hit the Dunchurch road below the Cock,” and +then steams away for the run in, in which he's sure to be first, as +if he were just starting. They struggle on across the next field, the +“forwards” getting fainter and fainter, and then ceasing. The whole hunt +is out of ear-shot, and all hope of coming in is over. + +“Hang it all!” broke out East, as soon as he had got wind enough, +pulling off his hat and mopping at his face, all spattered with dirt and +lined with sweat, from which went up a thick steam into the still, cold +air. “I told you how it would be. What a thick I was to come! Here we +are, dead beat, and yet I know we're close to the run in, if we knew the +country.” + +“Well,” said Tom, mopping away, and gulping down his disappointment, +“it can't be helped. We did our best anyhow. Hadn't we better find this +lane, and go down it, as young Brooke told us?” + +“I suppose so--nothing else for it,” grunted East. “If ever I go out +last day again.” Growl, growl, growl. + +So they tried back slowly and sorrowfully, and found the lane, and went +limping down it, plashing in the cold puddly ruts, and beginning to feel +how the run had taken it out of them. The evening closed in fast, and +clouded over, dark, cold, and dreary. + +“I say, it must be locking-up, I should think,” remarked East, breaking +the silence--“it's so dark.” + +“What if we're late?” said Tom. + +“No tea, and sent up to the Doctor,” answered East. + +The thought didn't add to their cheerfulness. Presently a faint halloo +was heard from an adjoining field. They answered it and stopped, hoping +for some competent rustic to guide them, when over a gate some twenty +yards ahead crawled the wretched Tadpole, in a state of collapse. He had +lost a shoe in the brook, and had been groping after it up to his elbows +in the stiff, wet clay, and a more miserable creature in the shape of +boy seldom has been seen. + +The sight of him, notwithstanding, cheered them, for he was some degrees +more wretched than they. They also cheered him, as he was no longer +under the dread of passing his night alone in the fields. And so, in +better heart, the three plashed painfully down the never-ending lane. At +last it widened, just as utter darkness set in, and they came out on +a turnpike road, and there paused, bewildered, for they had lost all +bearings, and knew not whether to turn to the right or left. + +Luckily for them they had not to decide, for lumbering along the road, +with one lamp lighted and two spavined horses in the shafts, came a +heavy coach, which after a moment's suspense they recognized as the +Oxford coach, the redoubtable Pig and Whistle. + +It lumbered slowly up, and the boys, mustering their last run, caught +it as it passed, and began clambering up behind, in which exploit East +missed his footing and fell flat on his nose along the road. Then the +others hailed the old scarecrow of a coachman, who pulled up and agreed +to take them in for a shilling; so there they sat on the back seat, +drubbing with their heels, and their teeth chattering with cold, and +jogged into Rugby some forty minutes after locking-up. + +Five minutes afterwards three small, limping, shivering figures steal +along through the Doctor's garden, and into the house by the servants' +entrance (all the other gates have been closed long since), where the +first thing they light upon in the passage is old Thomas, ambling along, +candle in one hand and keys in the other. + +He stops and examines their condition with a grim smile. “Ah! East, +Hall, and Brown, late for locking-up. Must go up to the Doctor's study +at once.” + +“Well but, Thomas, mayn't we go and wash first? You can put down the +time, you know.” + +“Doctor's study d'rectly you come in--that's the orders,” replied old +Thomas, motioning towards the stairs at the end of the passage which led +up into the Doctor's house; and the boys turned ruefully down it, not +cheered by the old verger's muttered remark, “What a pickle they boys be +in!” Thomas referred to their faces and habiliments, but they construed +it as indicating the Doctor's state of mind. Upon the short flight of +stairs they paused to hold counsel. + +“Who'll go in first?” inquires Tadpole. + +“You--you're the senior,” answered East. + +“Catch me. Look at the state I'm in,” rejoined Hall, showing the arms of +his jacket. “I must get behind you two.” + +“Well, but look at me,” said East, indicating the mass of clay behind +which he was standing; “I'm worse than you, two to one. You might grow +cabbages on my trousers.” + +“That's all down below, and you can keep your legs behind the sofa,” + said Hall. + +“Here, Brown; you're the show-figure. You must lead.” + +“But my face is all muddy,” argued Tom. + +“Oh, we're all in one boat for that matter; but come on; we're only +making it worse, dawdling here.” + +“Well, just give us a brush then,” said Tom. And they began trying to +rub off the superfluous dirt from each other's jackets; but it was not +dry enough, and the rubbing made them worse; so in despair they pushed +through the swing-door at the head of the stairs, and found themselves +in the Doctor's hall. + +“That's the library door,” said East in a whisper, pushing Tom forwards. +The sound of merry voices and laughter came from within, and his first +hesitating knock was unanswered. But at the second, the Doctor's voice +said, “Come in;” and Tom turned the handle, and he, with the others +behind him, sidled into the room. + +The Doctor looked up from his task; he was working away with a great +chisel at the bottom of a boy's sailing boat, the lines of which he was +no doubt fashioning on the model of one of Nicias's galleys. Round him +stood three or four children; the candles burnt brightly on a large +table at the farther end, covered with books and papers, and a great +fire threw a ruddy glow over the rest of the room. All looked so kindly, +and homely, and comfortable that the boys took heart in a moment, and +Tom advanced from behind the shelter of the great sofa. The Doctor +nodded to the children, who went out, casting curious and amused glances +at the three young scarecrows. + +“Well, my little fellows,” began the Doctor, drawing himself up with +his back to the fire, the chisel in one hand and his coat-tails in the +other, and his eyes twinkling as he looked them over; “what makes you so +late?” + +“Please, sir, we've been out big-side hare-and-hounds, and lost our +way.” + +“Hah! you couldn't keep up, I suppose?” + +“Well, sir,” said East, stepping out, and not liking that the Doctor +should think lightly of his running powers, “we got round Barby all +right; but then--” + +“Why, what a state you're in, my boy!” interrupted the Doctor, as the +pitiful condition of East's garments was fully revealed to him. + +“That's the fall I got, sir, in the road,” said East, looking down at +himself; “the Old Pig came by--” + +“The what?” said the Doctor. + +“The Oxford coach, sir,” explained Hall. + +“Hah! yes, the Regulator,” said the Doctor. + +“And I tumbled on my face, trying to get up behind,” went on East. + +“You're not hurt, I hope?” said the Doctor. + +“Oh no, sir.” + +“Well now, run upstairs, all three of you, and get clean things on, and +then tell the housekeeper to give you some tea. You're too young to try +such long runs. Let Warner know I've seen you. Good-night.” + +“Good-night, sir.” And away scuttled the three boys in high glee. + +“What a brick, not to give us even twenty lines to learn!” said the +Tadpole, as they reached their bedroom; and in half an hour afterwards +they were sitting by the fire in the housekeeper's room at a sumptuous +tea, with cold meat--“Twice as good a grub as we should have got in the +hall,” as the Tadpole remarked with a grin, his mouth full of buttered +toast. All their grievances were forgotten, and they were resolving to +go out the first big-side next half, and thinking hare-and-hounds the +most delightful of games. + +A day or two afterwards the great passage outside the bedrooms was +cleared of the boxes and portmanteaus, which went down to be packed by +the matron, and great games of chariot-racing, and cock-fighting, and +bolstering went on in the vacant space, the sure sign of a closing +half-year. + +Then came the making up of parties for the journey home, and Tom joined +a party who were to hire a coach, and post with four horses to Oxford. + +Then the last Saturday, on which the Doctor came round to each form to +give out the prizes, and hear the master's last reports of how they +and their charges had been conducting themselves; and Tom, to his huge +delight, was praised, and got his remove into the lower fourth, in which +all his School-house friends were. + +On the next Tuesday morning at four o'clock hot coffee was going on in +the housekeeper's and matron's rooms; boys wrapped in great-coats and +mufflers were swallowing hasty mouthfuls, rushing about, tumbling over +luggage, and asking questions all at once of the matron; outside the +School-gates were drawn up several chaises and the four-horse coach +which Tom's party had chartered, the postboys in their best jackets and +breeches, and a cornopean player, hired for the occasion, blowing away +“A southerly wind and a cloudy sky,” waking all peaceful inhabitants +half-way down the High Street. + +Every minute the bustle and hubbub increased: porters staggered about +with boxes and bags, the cornopean played louder. Old Thomas sat in +his den with a great yellow bag by his side, out of which he was paying +journey-money to each boy, comparing by the light of a solitary dip the +dirty, crabbed little list in his own handwriting with the Doctor's list +and the amount of his cash; his head was on one side, his mouth screwed +up, and his spectacles dim from early toil. He had prudently locked the +door, and carried on his operations solely through the window, or he +would have been driven wild and lost all his money. + +“Thomas, do be quick; we shall never catch the Highflyer at Dunchurch.” + +“That's your money all right, Green.” + +“Hullo, Thomas, the Doctor said I was to have two pound ten; you've only +given me two pound.” (I fear that Master Green is not confining himself +strictly to truth.) Thomas turns his head more on one side than ever, +and spells away at the dirty list. Green is forced away from the window. + +“Here, Thomas--never mind him; mine's thirty shillings.” “And mine too,” + “And mine,” shouted others. + +One way or another, the party to which Tom belonged all got packed and +paid, and sallied out to the gates, the cornopean playing frantically +“Drops of Brandy,” in allusion, probably, to the slight potations in +which the musician and postboys had been already indulging. All luggage +was carefully stowed away inside the coach and in the front and hind +boots, so that not a hat-box was visible outside. Five or six small +boys, with pea-shooters, and the cornopean player, got up behind; in +front the big boys, mostly smoking, not for pleasure, but because they +are now gentlemen at large, and this is the most correct public method +of notifying the fact. + +“Robinson's coach will be down the road in a minute; it has gone up to +Bird's to pick up. We'll wait till they're close, and make a race of +it,” says the leader. “Now, boys, half a sovereign apiece if you beat +'em into Dunchurch by one hundred yards.” + +“All right, sir,” shouted the grinning postboys. + +Down comes Robinson's coach in a minute or two, with a rival cornopean, +and away go the two vehicles, horses galloping, boys cheering, horns +playing loud. There is a special providence over school-boys as well +as sailors, or they must have upset twenty times in the first five +miles--sometimes actually abreast of one another, and the boys on the +roofs exchanging volleys of peas; now nearly running over a post-chaise +which had started before them; now half-way up a bank; now with a wheel +and a half over a yawning ditch: and all this in a dark morning, with +nothing but their own lamps to guide them. However, it's all over at +last, and they have run over nothing but an old pig in Southam Street. +The last peas are distributed in the Corn Market at Oxford, where they +arrive between eleven and twelve, and sit down to a sumptuous breakfast +at the Angel, which they are made to pay for accordingly. Here the party +breaks up, all going now different ways; and Tom orders out a chaise and +pair as grand as a lord, though he has scarcely five shillings left in +his pocket, and more than twenty miles to get home. + +“Where to, sir?” + +“Red Lion, Farringdon,” says Tom, giving hostler a shilling. + +“All right, sir.--Red Lion, Jem,” to the postboy; and Tom rattles away +towards home. At Farringdon, being known to the innkeeper, he gets that +worthy to pay for the Oxford horses, and forward him in another chaise +at once; and so the gorgeous young gentleman arrives at the paternal +mansion, and Squire Brown looks rather blue at having to pay two pound +ten shillings for the posting expenses from Oxford. But the boy's +intense joy at getting home, and the wonderful health he is in, and the +good character he brings, and the brave stories he tells of Rugby, its +doings and delights, soon mollify the Squire, and three happier people +didn't sit down to dinner that day in England (it is the boy's first +dinner at six o'clock at home--great promotion already) than the Squire +and his wife and Tom Brown, at the end of his first half-year at Rugby. + + + +CHAPTER VIII--THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. + + “They are slaves who will not choose + Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, + Rather than in silence shrink + From the truth they needs must think; + They are slaves who dare not be + In the right with two or three.” + --LOWELL, Stanzas on Freedom. + +The lower-fourth form, in which Tom found himself at the beginning +of the next half-year, was the largest form in the lower school, and +numbered upwards of forty boys. Young gentlemen of all ages from nine to +fifteen were to be found there, who expended such part of their energies +as was devoted to Latin and Greek upon a book of Livy, the “Bucolics” + of Virgil, and the “Hecuba” of Euripides, which were ground out in small +daily portions. The driving of this unlucky lower-fourth must have been +grievous work to the unfortunate master, for it was the most unhappily +constituted of any in the school. Here stuck the great stupid boys, +who, for the life of them, could never master the accidence--the objects +alternately of mirth and terror to the youngsters, who were daily taking +them up and laughing at them in lesson, and getting kicked by them for +so doing in play-hours. There were no less than three unhappy fellows in +tail coats, with incipient down on their chins, whom the Doctor and +the master of the form were always endeavouring to hoist into the upper +school, but whose parsing and construing resisted the most well-meant +shoves. Then came the mass of the form, boys of eleven and twelve, the +most mischievous and reckless age of British youth, of whom East and Tom +Brown were fair specimens. As full of tricks as monkeys, and of excuses +as Irishwomen, making fun of their master, one another, and their +lessons, Argus himself would have been puzzled to keep an eye on them; +and as for making them steady or serious for half an hour together, +it was simply hopeless. The remainder of the form consisted of young +prodigies of nine and ten, who were going up the school at the rate of +a form a half-year, all boys' hands and wits being against them in their +progress. It would have been one man's work to see that the precocious +youngsters had fair play; and as the master had a good deal besides +to do, they hadn't, and were for ever being shoved down three or four +places, their verses stolen, their books inked, their jackets whitened, +and their lives otherwise made a burden to them. + +The lower-fourth, and all the forms below it, were heard in the great +school, and were not trusted to prepare their lessons before coming in, +but were whipped into school three-quarters of an hour before the lesson +began by their respective masters, and there, scattered about on the +benches, with dictionary and grammar, hammered out their twenty lines +of Virgil and Euripides in the midst of babel. The masters of the +lower school walked up and down the great school together during this +three-quarters of an hour, or sat in their desks reading or looking over +copies, and keeping such order as was possible. But the lower-fourth +was just now an overgrown form, too large for any one man to attend +to properly, and consequently the elysium or ideal form of the young +scapegraces who formed the staple of it. + +Tom, as has been said, had come up from the third with a good character, +but the temptations of the lower-fourth soon proved too strong for him, +and he rapidly fell away, and became as unmanageable as the rest. +For some weeks, indeed, he succeeded in maintaining the appearance of +steadiness, and was looked upon favourably by his new master, whose eyes +were first opened by the following little incident. + +Besides the desk which the master himself occupied, there was another +large unoccupied desk in the corner of the great school, which was +untenanted. To rush and seize upon this desk, which was ascended by +three steps and held four boys, was the great object of ambition of the +lower-fourthers; and the contentions for the occupation of it bred such +disorder that at last the master forbade its use altogether. This, of +course, was a challenge to the more adventurous spirits to occupy it; +and as it was capacious enough for two boys to lie hid there completely, +it was seldom that it remained empty, notwithstanding the veto. Small +holes were cut in the front, through which the occupants watched the +masters as they walked up and down; and as lesson time approached, one +boy at a time stole out and down the steps, as the masters' backs were +turned, and mingled with the general crowd on the forms below. Tom and +East had successfully occupied the desk some half-dozen times, and were +grown so reckless that they were in the habit of playing small games +with fives balls inside when the masters were at the other end of the +big school. One day, as ill-luck would have it, the game became more +exciting than usual, and the ball slipped through East's fingers, and +rolled slowly down the steps and out into the middle of the school, just +as the masters turned in their walk and faced round upon the desk. The +young delinquents watched their master, through the lookout holes, march +slowly down the school straight upon their retreat, while all the boys +in the neighbourhood, of course, stopped their work to look on; and not +only were they ignominiously drawn out, and caned over the hand then +and there, but their characters for steadiness were gone from that time. +However, as they only shared the fate of some three-fourths of the rest +of the form, this did not weigh heavily upon them. + +In fact, the only occasions on which they cared about the matter were +the monthly examinations, when the Doctor came round to examine their +form, for one long, awful hour, in the work which they had done in the +preceding month. The second monthly examination came round soon after +Tom's fall, and it was with anything but lively anticipations that he +and the other lower-fourth boys came in to prayers on the morning of the +examination day. + +Prayers and calling-over seemed twice as short as usual, and before they +could get construes of a tithe of the hard passages marked in the margin +of their books, they were all seated round, and the Doctor was standing +in the middle, talking in whispers to the master. Tom couldn't hear a +word which passed, and never lifted his eyes from his book; but he knew +by a sort of magnetic instinct that the Doctor's under-lip was coming +out, and his eye beginning to burn, and his gown getting gathered up +more and more tightly in his left hand. The suspense was agonizing, and +Tom knew that he was sure on such occasions to make an example of the +School-house boys. “If he would only begin,” thought Tom, “I shouldn't +mind.” + +At last the whispering ceased, and the name which was called out was not +Brown. He looked up for a moment, but the Doctor's face was too awful; +Tom wouldn't have met his eye for all he was worth, and buried himself +in his book again. + +The boy who was called up first was a clever, merry School-house boy, +one of their set; he was some connection of the Doctor's, and a great +favourite, and ran in and out of his house as he liked, and so was +selected for the first victim. + +“Triste lupus stabulis,” began the luckless youngster, and stammered +through some eight or ten lines. + +“There, that will do,” said the Doctor; “now construe.” + +On common occasions the boy could have construed the passage well enough +probably, but now his head was gone. + +“Triste lupus, the sorrowful wolf,” he began. + +A shudder ran through the whole form, and the Doctor's wrath fairly +boiled over. He made three steps up to the construer, and gave him a +good box on the ear. The blow was not a hard one, but the boy was so +taken by surprise that he started back; the form caught the back of his +knees, and over he went on to the floor behind. There was a dead silence +over the whole school. Never before and never again while Tom was at +school did the Doctor strike a boy in lesson. The provocation must have +been great. However, the victim had saved his form for that occasion, +for the Doctor turned to the top bench, and put on the best boys for the +rest of the hour and though, at the end of the lesson, he gave them all +such a rating as they did not forget, this terrible field-day passed +over without any severe visitations in the shape of punishments or +floggings. Forty young scapegraces expressed their thanks to the +“sorrowful wolf” in their different ways before second lesson. + +But a character for steadiness once gone is not easily recovered, as Tom +found; and for years afterwards he went up the school without it, +and the masters' hands were against him, and his against them. And he +regarded them, as a matter of course, as his natural enemies. + +Matters were not so comfortable, either, in the house as they had +been; for old Brooke left at Christmas, and one or two others of the +sixth-form boys at the following Easter. Their rule had been rough, but +strong and just in the main, and a higher standard was beginning to be +set up; in fact, there had been a short foretaste of the good time which +followed some years later. Just now, however, all threatened to return +into darkness and chaos again. For the new praepostors were either small +young boys, whose cleverness had carried them up to the top of the +school, while in strength of body and character they were not yet +fit for a share in the government; or else big fellows of the wrong +sort--boys whose friendships and tastes had a downward tendency, who had +not caught the meaning of their position and work, and felt none of its +responsibilities. So under this no-government the School-house began to +see bad times. The big fifth-form boys, who were a sporting and drinking +set, soon began to usurp power, and to fag the little boys as if they +were praepostors, and to bully and oppress any who showed signs of +resistance. The bigger sort of sixth-form boys just described soon made +common cause with the fifth, while the smaller sort, hampered by their +colleagues' desertion to the enemy, could not make head against them. +So the fags were without their lawful masters and protectors, and ridden +over rough-shod by a set of boys whom they were not bound to obey, and +whose only right over them stood in their bodily powers; and, as old +Brooke had prophesied, the house by degrees broke up into small sets and +parties, and lost the strong feeling of fellowship which he set so much +store by, and with it much of the prowess in games and the lead in all +school matters which he had done so much to keep up. + +In no place in the world has individual character more weight than at +a public school. Remember this, I beseech you, all you boys who are +getting into the upper forms. Now is the time in all your lives, +probably, when you may have more wide influence for good or evil on the +society you live in than you ever can have again. Quit yourselves like +men, then; speak up, and strike out if necessary, for whatsoever +is true, and manly, and lovely, and of good report; never try to be +popular, but only to do your duty and help others to do theirs, and you +may leave the tone of feeling in the school higher than you found it, +and so be doing good which no living soul can measure to generations of +your countrymen yet unborn. For boys follow one another in herds like +sheep, for good or evil; they hate thinking, and have rarely any settled +principles. Every school, indeed, has its own traditionary standard of +right and wrong, which cannot be transgressed with impunity, marking +certain things as low and blackguard, and certain others as lawful and +right. This standard is ever varying, though it changes only slowly and +little by little; and, subject only to such standard, it is the leading +boys for the time being who give the tone to all the rest, and make +the School either a noble institution for the training of Christian +Englishmen, or a place where a young boy will get more evil than he +would if he were turned out to make his way in London streets, or +anything between these two extremes. + +The change for the worse in the School-house, however, didn't press very +heavily on our youngsters for some time. They were in a good bedroom, +where slept the only praepostor left who was able to keep thorough order, +and their study was in his passage. So, though they were fagged more or +less, and occasionally kicked or cuffed by the bullies, they were, on +the whole, well off; and the fresh, brave school-life, so full of games, +adventures, and good-fellowship, so ready at forgetting, so capacious +at enjoying, so bright at forecasting, outweighed a thousand-fold their +troubles with the master of their form, and the occasional ill-usage +of the big boys in the house. It wasn't till some year or so after the +events recorded above that the praepostor of their room and passage left. +None of the other sixth-form boys would move into their passage, and, to +the disgust and indignation of Tom and East, one morning after breakfast +they were seized upon by Flashman, and made to carry down his books and +furniture into the unoccupied study, which he had taken. From this +time they began to feel the weight of the tyranny of Flashman and his +friends, and, now that trouble had come home to their own doors, began +to look out for sympathizers and partners amongst the rest of the fags; +and meetings of the oppressed began to be held, and murmurs to arise, +and plots to be laid as to how they should free themselves and be +avenged on their enemies. + +While matters were in this state, East and Tom were one evening sitting +in their study. They had done their work for first lesson, and Tom was +in a brown study, brooding, like a young William Tell, upon the wrongs +of fags in general, and his own in particular. + +“I say, Scud,” said he at last, rousing himself to snuff the candle, +“what right have the fifth-form boys to fag us as they do?” + +“No more right than you have to fag them,” answered East, without +looking up from an early number of “Pickwick,” which was just coming +out, and which he was luxuriously devouring, stretched on his back on +the sofa. + +Tom relapsed into his brown study, and East went on reading and +chuckling. The contrast of the boys' faces would have given infinite +amusement to a looker-on--the one so solemn and big with mighty purpose, +the other radiant and bubbling over with fun. + +“Do you know, old fellow, I've been thinking it over a good deal,” began +Tom again. + +“Oh yes, I know--fagging you are thinking of. Hang it all! But listen +here, Tom--here's fun. Mr. Winkle's horse--” + +“And I've made up my mind,” broke in Tom, “that I won't fag except for +the sixth.” + +“Quite right too, my boy,” cried East, putting his finger on the place +and looking up; “but a pretty peck of troubles you'll get into, if +you're going to play that game. However, I'm all for a strike myself, if +we can get others to join. It's getting too bad.” + +“Can't we get some sixth-form fellow to take it up?” asked Tom. + +“Well, perhaps we might. Morgan would interfere, I think. Only,” added +East, after a moment's pause, “you see, we should have to tell him about +it, and that's against School principles. Don't you remember what old +Brooke said about learning to take our own parts?” + +“Ah, I wish old Brooke were back again. It was all right in his time.” + +“Why, yes, you see, then the strongest and best fellows were in the +sixth, and the fifth-form fellows were afraid of them, and they kept +good order; but now our sixth-form fellows are too small, and the fifth +don't care for them, and do what they like in the house.” + +“And so we get a double set of masters,” cried Tom indignantly--“the +lawful ones, who are responsible to the Doctor at any rate, and the +unlawful, the tyrants, who are responsible to nobody.” + +“Down with the tyrants!” cried East; “I'm all for law and order, and +hurrah for a revolution.” + +“I shouldn't mind if it were only for young Brooke now,” said Tom; “he's +such a good-hearted, gentlemanly fellow, and ought to be in the sixth. +I'd do anything for him. But that blackguard Flashman, who never speaks +to one without a kick or an oath--” + +“The cowardly brute,” broke in East--“how I hate him! And he knows it +too; he knows that you and I think him a coward. What a bore that he's +got a study in this passage! Don't you hear them now at supper in his +den? Brandy-punch going, I'll bet. I wish the Doctor would come out and +catch him. We must change our study as soon as we can.” + +“Change or no change, I'll never fag for him again,” said Tom, thumping +the table. + +“Fa-a-a-ag!” sounded along the passage from Flashman's study. The +two boys looked at one another in silence. It had struck nine, so the +regular night-fags had left duty, and they were the nearest to the +supper-party. East sat up, and began to look comical, as he always did +under difficulties. + +“Fa-a-a-ag!” again. No answer. + +“Here, Brown! East! you cursed young skulks,” roared out Flashman, +coming to his open door; “I know you're in; no shirking.” + +Tom stole to their door, and drew the bolts as noiselessly as he could; +East blew out the candle. + +“Barricade the first,” whispered he. “Now, Tom, mind, no surrender.” + +“Trust me for that,” said Tom between his teeth. + +In another minute they heard the supper-party turn out and come down the +passage to their door. They held their breaths, and heard whispering, of +which they only made out Flashman's words, “I know the young brutes are +in.” + +Then came summonses to open, which being unanswered, the assault +commenced. Luckily the door was a good strong oak one, and resisted the +united weight of Flashman's party. A pause followed, and they heard a +besieger remark, “They're in safe enough. Don't you see how the door +holds at top and bottom? So the bolts must be drawn. We should have +forced the lock long ago.” East gave Tom a nudge, to call attention to +this scientific remark. + +Then came attacks on particular panels, one of which at last gave way +to the repeated kicks; but it broke inwards, and the broken pieces got +jammed across (the door being lined with green baize), and couldn't +easily be removed from outside: and the besieged, scorning further +concealment, strengthened their defences by pressing the end of their +sofa against the door. So, after one or two more ineffectual efforts, +Flashman and Company retired, vowing vengeance in no mild terms. + +The first danger over, it only remained for the besieged to effect a +safe retreat, as it was now near bed-time. They listened intently, and +heard the supper-party resettle themselves, and then gently drew back +first one bolt and then the other. Presently the convivial noises began +again steadily. “Now then, stand by for a run,” said East, throwing the +door wide open and rushing into the passage, closely followed by Tom. +They were too quick to be caught; but Flashman was on the lookout, and +sent an empty pickle-jar whizzing after them, which narrowly missed +Tom's head, and broke into twenty pieces at the end of the passage. +“He wouldn't mind killing one, if he wasn't caught,” said East, as they +turned the corner. + +There was no pursuit, so the two turned into the hall, where they found +a knot of small boys round the fire. Their story was told. The war of +independence had broken out. Who would join the revolutionary forces? +Several others present bound themselves not to fag for the fifth form +at once. One or two only edged off, and left the rebels. What else could +they do? “I've a good mind to go to the Doctor straight,” said Tom. + +“That'll never do. Don't you remember the levy of the school last half?” + put in another. + +In fact, the solemn assembly, a levy of the School, had been held, at +which the captain of the School had got up, and after premising that +several instances had occurred of matters having been reported to the +masters; that this was against public morality and School tradition; +that a levy of the sixth had been held on the subject, and they had +resolved that the practice must be stopped at once; and given out that +any boy, in whatever form, who should thenceforth appeal to a master, +without having first gone to some praepostor and laid the case before +him, should be thrashed publicly, and sent to Coventry. + +“Well, then, let's try the sixth. Try Morgan,” suggested another. “No +use”--“Blabbing won't do,” was the general feeling. + +“I'll give you fellows a piece of advice,” said a voice from the end +of the hall. They all turned round with a start, and the speaker got up +from a bench on which he had been lying unobserved, and gave himself a +shake. He was a big, loose-made fellow, with huge limbs which had grown +too far through his jacket and trousers. “Don't you go to anybody at +all--you just stand out; say you won't fag. They'll soon get tired of +licking you. I've tried it on years ago with their forerunners.” + +“No! Did you? Tell us how it was?” cried a chorus of voices, as they +clustered round him. + +“Well, just as it is with you. The fifth form would fag us, and I and +some more struck, and we beat 'em. The good fellows left off directly, +and the bullies who kept on soon got afraid.” + +“Was Flashman here then?” + +“Yes; and a dirty, little, snivelling, sneaking fellow he was too. He +never dared join us, and used to toady the bullies by offering to fag +for them, and peaching against the rest of us.” + +“Why wasn't he cut, then?” said East. + +“Oh, toadies never get cut; they're too useful. Besides, he has no end +of great hampers from home, with wine and game in them; so he toadied +and fed himself into favour.” + +The quarter-to-ten bell now rang, and the small boys went off upstairs, +still consulting together, and praising their new counsellor, who +stretched himself out on the bench before the hall fire again. There +he lay, a very queer specimen of boyhood, by name Diggs, and familiarly +called “the Mucker.” He was young for his size, and a very clever +fellow, nearly at the top of the fifth. His friends at home, having +regard, I suppose, to his age, and not to his size and place in the +school, hadn't put him into tails; and even his jackets were always too +small; and he had a talent for destroying clothes and making himself +look shabby. He wasn't on terms with Flashman's set, who sneered at his +dress and ways behind his back; which he knew, and revenged himself +by asking Flashman the most disagreeable questions, and treating him +familiarly whenever a crowd of boys were round him. Neither was he +intimate with any of the other bigger boys, who were warned off by +his oddnesses, for he was a very queer fellow; besides, amongst other +failings, he had that of impecuniosity in a remarkable degree. He +brought as much money as other boys to school, but got rid of it in no +time, no one knew how; and then, being also reckless, borrowed from any +one; and when his debts accumulated and creditors pressed, would have +an auction in the hall of everything he possessed in the world, selling +even his school-books, candlestick, and study table. For weeks after +one of these auctions, having rendered his study uninhabitable, he would +live about in the fifth-form room and hall, doing his verses on old +letter-backs and odd scraps of paper, and learning his lessons no one +knew how. He never meddled with any little boy, and was popular with +them, though they all looked on him with a sort of compassion, and +called him “Poor Diggs,” not being able to resist appearances, or to +disregard wholly even the sneers of their enemy Flashman. However, he +seemed equally indifferent to the sneers of big boys and the pity of +small ones, and lived his own queer life with much apparent enjoyment to +himself. It is necessary to introduce Diggs thus particularly, as he not +only did Tom and East good service in their present warfare, as is about +to be told, but soon afterwards, when he got into the sixth, chose them +for his fags, and excused them from study-fagging, thereby earning unto +himself eternal gratitude from them and all who are interested in their +history. + +And seldom had small boys more need of a friend, for the morning after +the siege the storm burst upon the rebels in all its violence. Flashman +laid wait, and caught Tom before second lesson, and receiving a +point-blank “No” when told to fetch his hat, seized him and twisted his +arm, and went through the other methods of torture in use. “He couldn't +make me cry, though,” as Tom said triumphantly to the rest of the +rebels; “and I kicked his shins well, I know.” And soon it crept +out that a lot of the fags were in league, and Flashman excited his +associates to join him in bringing the young vagabonds to their senses; +and the house was filled with constant chasings, and sieges, and +lickings of all sorts; and in return, the bullies' beds were pulled to +pieces and drenched with water, and their names written up on the walls +with every insulting epithet which the fag invention could furnish. The +war, in short, raged fiercely; but soon, as Diggs had told them, all +the better fellows in the fifth gave up trying to fag them, and public +feeling began to set against Flashman and his two or three intimates, +and they were obliged to keep their doings more secret, but being +thorough bad fellows, missed no opportunity of torturing in private. +Flashman was an adept in all ways, but above all in the power of saying +cutting and cruel things, and could often bring tears to the eyes of +boys in this way, which all the thrashings in the world wouldn't have +wrung from them. + +And as his operations were being cut short in other directions, he now +devoted himself chiefly to Tom and East, who lived at his own door, and +would force himself into their study whenever he found a chance, and sit +there, sometimes alone, and sometimes with a companion, interrupting all +their work, and exulting in the evident pain which every now and then he +could see he was inflicting on one or the other. + +The storm had cleared the air for the rest of the house, and a better +state of things now began than there had been since old Brooke had left; +but an angry, dark spot of thunder-cloud still hung over the end of the +passage where Flashman's study and that of East and Tom lay. + +He felt that they had been the first rebels, and that the rebellion had +been to a great extent successful; but what above all stirred the +hatred and bitterness of his heart against them was that in the frequent +collisions which there had been of late they had openly called him +coward and sneak. The taunts were too true to be forgiven. While he +was in the act of thrashing them, they would roar out instances of his +funking at football, or shirking some encounter with a lout of half his +own size. These things were all well enough known in the house, but +to have his own disgrace shouted out by small boys, to feel that they +despised him, to be unable to silence them by any amount of torture, and +to see the open laugh and sneer of his own associates (who were looking +on, and took no trouble to hide their scorn from him, though they +neither interfered with his bullying nor lived a bit the less intimately +with him), made him beside himself. Come what might, he would make those +boys' lives miserable. So the strife settled down into a personal affair +between Flashman and our youngsters--a war to the knife, to be fought +out in the little cockpit at the end of the bottom passage. + +Flashman, be it said, was about seventeen years old, and big and strong +of his age. He played well at all games where pluck wasn't much wanted, +and managed generally to keep up appearances where it was; and having +a bluff, off-hand manner, which passed for heartiness, and considerable +powers of being pleasant when he liked, went down with the school in +general for a good fellow enough. Even in the School-house, by dint of +his command of money, the constant supply of good things which he kept +up, and his adroit toadyism, he had managed to make himself not only +tolerated, but rather popular amongst his own contemporaries; although +young Brooke scarcely spoke to him, and one or two others of the right +sort showed their opinions of him whenever a chance offered. But the +wrong sort happened to be in the ascendant just now, and so Flashman +was a formidable enemy for small boys. This soon became plain enough. +Flashman left no slander unspoken, and no deed undone, which could in +any way hurt his victims, or isolate them from the rest of the +house. One by one most of the other rebels fell away from them, while +Flashman's cause prospered, and several other fifth-form boys began to +look black at them and ill-treat them as they passed about the house. By +keeping out of bounds, or at all events out of the house and quadrangle, +all day, and carefully barring themselves in at night, East and Tom +managed to hold on without feeling very miserable; but it was as much as +they could do. Greatly were they drawn then towards old Diggs, who, in +an uncouth way, began to take a good deal of notice of them, and once +or twice came to their study when Flashman was there, who immediately +decamped in consequence. The boys thought that Diggs must have been +watching. + +When therefore, about this time, an auction was one night announced to +take place in the hall, at which, amongst the superfluities of other +boys, all Diggs's penates for the time being were going to the hammer, +East and Tom laid their heads together, and resolved to devote their +ready cash (some four shillings sterling) to redeem such articles as +that sum would cover. Accordingly, they duly attended to bid, and +Tom became the owner of two lots of Diggs's things:--Lot 1, price +one-and-threepence, consisting (as the auctioneer remarked) of a +“valuable assortment of old metals,” in the shape of a mouse-trap, a +cheese-toaster without a handle, and a saucepan: Lot 2, of a +villainous dirty table-cloth and green-baize curtain; while East, for +one-and-sixpence, purchased a leather paper-case, with a lock but no +key, once handsome, but now much the worse for wear. But they had still +the point to settle of how to get Diggs to take the things without +hurting his feelings. This they solved by leaving them in his study, +which was never locked when he was out. Diggs, who had attended the +auction, remembered who had bought the lots, and came to their study +soon after, and sat silent for some time, cracking his great red +finger-joints. Then he laid hold of their verses, and began looking over +and altering them, and at last got up, and turning his back to them, +said, “You're uncommon good-hearted little beggars, you two. I value +that paper-case; my sister gave it to me last holidays. I won't +forget.” And so he tumbled out into the passage, leaving them somewhat +embarrassed, but not sorry that he knew what they had done. + +The next morning was Saturday, the day on which the allowances of one +shilling a week were paid--an important event to spendthrift youngsters; +and great was the disgust amongst the small fry to hear that all the +allowances had been impounded for the Derby lottery. That great event +in the English year, the Derby, was celebrated at Rugby in those days +by many lotteries. It was not an improving custom, I own, gentle reader, +and led to making books, and betting, and other objectionable results; +but when our great Houses of Palaver think it right to stop the nation's +business on that day and many of the members bet heavily themselves, can +you blame us boys for following the example of our betters? At any rate +we did follow it. First there was the great school lottery, where the +first prize was six or seven pounds; then each house had one or more +separate lotteries. These were all nominally voluntary, no boy being +compelled to put in his shilling who didn't choose to do so. But besides +Flashman, there were three or four other fast, sporting young gentlemen +in the Schoolhouse, who considered subscription a matter of duty and +necessity; and so, to make their duty come easy to the small +boys, quietly secured the allowances in a lump when given out for +distribution, and kept them. It was no use grumbling--so many fewer +tartlets and apples were eaten and fives balls bought on that Saturday; +and after locking-up, when the money would otherwise have been spent, +consolation was carried to many a small boy by the sound of the +night-fags shouting along the passages, “Gentlemen sportsmen of the +School-house; the lottery's going to be drawn in the hall.” It was +pleasant to be called a gentleman sportsman, also to have a chance of +drawing a favourite horse. + +The hall was full of boys, and at the head of one of the long tables +stood the sporting interest, with a hat before them, in which were the +tickets folded up. One of them then began calling out the list of the +house. Each boy as his name was called drew a ticket from the hat, and +opened it; and most of the bigger boys, after drawing, left the hall +directly to go back to their studies or the fifth-form room. The +sporting interest had all drawn blanks, and they were sulky accordingly; +neither of the favourites had yet been drawn, and it had come down to +the upper-fourth. So now, as each small boy came up and drew his ticket, +it was seized and opened by Flashman, or some other of the standers-by. +But no great favourite is drawn until it comes to the Tadpole's turn, +and he shuffles up and draws, and tries to make off, but is caught, and +his ticket is opened like the rest. + +“Here you are! Wanderer--the third favourite!” shouts the opener. + +“I say, just give me my ticket, please,” remonstrates Tadpole. + +“Hullo! don't be in a hurry,” breaks in Flashman; “what'll you sell +Wanderer for now?” + +“I don't want to sell,” rejoins Tadpole. + +“Oh, don't you! Now listen, you young fool: you don't know anything +about it; the horse is no use to you. He won't win, but I want him as a +hedge. Now, I'll give you half a crown for him.” Tadpole holds out, but +between threats and cajoleries at length sells half for one shilling and +sixpence--about a fifth of its fair market value; however, he is glad to +realize anything, and, as he wisely remarks, “Wanderer mayn't win, and +the tizzy is safe anyhow.” + +East presently comes up and draws a blank. Soon after comes Tom's turn. +His ticket, like the others, is seized and opened. “Here you are then,” + shouts the opener, holding it up--“Harkaway!--By Jove, Flashey, your +young friend's in luck.” + +“Give me the ticket,” says Flashman, with an oath, leaning across the +table with open hand and his face black with rage. + +“Wouldn't you like it?” replies the opener, not a bad fellow at the +bottom, and no admirer of Flashman. “Here, Brown, catch hold.” And he +hands the ticket to Tom, who pockets it. Whereupon Flashman makes for +the door at once, that Tom and the ticket may not escape, and there +keeps watch until the drawing is over and all the boys are gone, except +the sporting set of five or six, who stay to compare books, make bets, +and so on; Tom, who doesn't choose to move while Flashman is at the +door; and East, who stays by his friend, anticipating trouble. The +sporting set now gathered round Tom. Public opinion wouldn't allow them +actually to rob him of his ticket, but any humbug or intimidation by +which he could be driven to sell the whole or part at an undervalue was +lawful. + +“Now, young Brown, come, what'll you sell me Harkaway for? I hear he +isn't going to start. I'll give you five shillings for him,” begins +the boy who had opened the ticket. Tom, remembering his good deed, and +moreover in his forlorn state wishing to make a friend, is about +to accept the offer, when another cries out, “I'll give you seven +shillings.” Tom hesitated and looked from one to the other. + +“No, no!” said Flashman, pushing in, “leave me to deal with him; we'll +draw lots for it afterwards. Now sir, you know me: you'll sell Harkaway +to us for five shillings, or you'll repent it.” + +“I won't sell a bit of him,” answered Tom shortly. + +“You hear that now!” said Flashman, turning to the others. “He's the +coxiest young blackguard in the house. I always told you so. We're +to have all the trouble and risk of getting up the lotteries for the +benefit of such fellows as he.” + +Flashman forgets to explain what risk they ran, but he speaks to willing +ears. Gambling makes boys selfish and cruel as well as men. + +“That's true. We always draw blanks,” cried one.--“Now, sir, you shall +sell half, at any rate.” + +“I won't,” said Tom, flushing up to his hair, and lumping them all in +his mind with his sworn enemy. + +“Very well then; let's roast him,” cried Flashman, and catches hold of +Tom by the collar. One or two boys hesitate, but the rest join in. East +seizes Tom's arm, and tries to pull him away, but is knocked back by +one of the boys, and Tom is dragged along struggling. His shoulders are +pushed against the mantelpiece, and he is held by main force before the +fire, Flashman drawing his trousers tight by way of extra torture. Poor +East, in more pain even than Tom, suddenly thinks of Diggs, and darts +off to find him. “Will you sell now for ten shillings?” says one boy who +is relenting. + +Tom only answers by groans and struggles. + +“I say, Flashey, he has had enough,” says the same boy, dropping the arm +he holds. + +“No, no; another turn'll do it,” answers Flashman. But poor Tom is done +already, turns deadly pale, and his head falls forward on his breast, +just as Diggs, in frantic excitement, rushes into the hall with East at +his heels. + +“You cowardly brutes!” is all he can say, as he catches Tom from them +and supports him to the hall table. “Good God! he's dying. Here, get +some cold water--run for the housekeeper.” + +Flashman and one or two others slink away; the rest, ashamed and +sorry, bend over Tom or run for water, while East darts off for the +housekeeper. Water comes, and they throw it on his hands and face, and +he begins to come to. “Mother!”--the words came feebly and slowly--“it's +very cold to-night.” Poor old Diggs is blubbering like a child. “Where +am I?” goes on Tom, opening his eyes, “Ah! I remember now.” And he shut +his eyes again and groaned. + +“I say,” is whispered, “we can't do any good, and the housekeeper will +be here in a minute.” And all but one steal away. He stays with Diggs, +silent and sorrowful, and fans Tom's face. + +The housekeeper comes in with strong salts, and Tom soon recovers enough +to sit up. There is a smell of burning. She examines his clothes, and +looks up inquiringly. The boys are silent. + +“How did he come so?” No answer. “There's been some bad work here,” she +adds, looking very serious, “and I shall speak to the Doctor about it.” + Still no answer. + +“Hadn't we better carry him to the sick-room?” suggests Diggs. + +“Oh, I can walk now,” says Tom; and, supported by East and the +housekeeper, goes to the sick-room. The boy who held his ground is soon +amongst the rest, who are all in fear of their lives. “Did he peach?” + “Does she know about it?” + +“Not a word; he's a stanch little fellow.” And pausing a moment, he +adds, “I'm sick of this work; what brutes we've been!” + +Meantime Tom is stretched on the sofa in the housekeeper's room, with +East by his side, while she gets wine and water and other restoratives. + +“Are you much hurt, dear old boy?” whispers East. + +“Only the back of my legs,” answers Tom. They are indeed badly scorched, +and part of his trousers burnt through. But soon he is in bed with +cold bandages. At first he feels broken, and thinks of writing home and +getting taken away; and the verse of a hymn he had learned years ago +sings through his head, and he goes to sleep, murmuring,-- + + +“Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest.” + + +But after a sound night's rest, the old boy-spirit comes back again. +East comes in, reporting that the whole house is with him; and he +forgets everything, except their old resolve never to be beaten by that +bully Flashman. + +Not a word could the housekeeper extract from either of them, and though +the Doctor knew all that she knew that morning, he never knew any more. + +I trust and believe that such scenes are not possible now at school, +and that lotteries and betting-books have gone out; but I am writing of +schools as they were in our time, and must give the evil with the good. + + + +CHAPTER IX--A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. + + “Wherein I [speak] of most disastrous chances, + Of moving accidents by flood and field, + Of hair-breadth 'scapes.”--SHAKESPEARE. + +When Tom came back into school after a couple of days in the sick-room, +he found matters much changed for the better, as East had led him to +expect. Flashman's brutality had disgusted most even of his intimate +friends, and his cowardice had once more been made plain to the house; +for Diggs had encountered him on the morning after the lottery, and +after high words on both sides, had struck him, and the blow was not +returned. However, Flashey was not unused to this sort of thing, and had +lived through as awkward affairs before, and, as Diggs had said, fed and +toadied himself back into favour again. Two or three of the boys who had +helped to roast Tom came up and begged his pardon, and thanked him for +not telling anything. Morgan sent for him, and was inclined to take the +matter up warmly, but Tom begged him not to do it; to which he agreed, +on Tom's promising to come to him at once in future--a promise which, I +regret to say, he didn't keep. Tom kept Harkaway all to himself, and +won the second prize in the lottery, some thirty shillings, which he and +East contrived to spend in about three days in the purchase of pictures +for their study, two new bats and a cricket-ball--all the best that +could be got--and a supper of sausages, kidneys, and beef-steak pies +to all the rebels. Light come, light go; they wouldn't have been +comfortable with money in their pockets in the middle of the half. + +The embers of Flashman's wrath, however, were still smouldering, and +burst out every now and then in sly blows and taunts, and they both +felt that they hadn't quite done with him yet. It wasn't long, however, +before the last act of that drama came, and with it the end of bullying +for Tom and East at Rugby. They now often stole out into the hall at +nights, incited thereto partly by the hope of finding Diggs there and +having a talk with him, partly by the excitement of doing something +which was against rules; for, sad to say, both of our youngsters, since +their loss of character for steadiness in their form, had got into +the habit of doing things which were forbidden, as a matter of +adventure,--just in the same way, I should fancy, as men fall into +smuggling, and for the same sort of reasons--thoughtlessness in the +first place. It never occurred to them to consider why such and such +rules were laid down: the reason was nothing to them, and they only +looked upon rules as a sort of challenge from the rule-makers, which it +would be rather bad pluck in them not to accept; and then again, in the +lower parts of the school they hadn't enough to do. The work of the form +they could manage to get through pretty easily, keeping a good enough +place to get their regular yearly remove; and not having much ambition +beyond this, their whole superfluous steam was available for games and +scrapes. Now, one rule of the house which it was a daily pleasure of all +such boys to break was that after supper all fags, except the three +on duty in the passages, should remain in their own studies until nine +o'clock; and if caught about the passages or hall, or in one another's +studies, they were liable to punishments or caning. The rule was +stricter than its observance; for most of the sixth spent their evenings +in the fifth-form room, where the library was, and the lessons were +learnt in common. Every now and then, however, a praepostor would be +seized with a fit of district visiting, and would make a tour of +the passages and hall and the fags' studies. Then, if the owner were +entertaining a friend or two, the first kick at the door and ominous +“Open here” had the effect of the shadow of a hawk over a chicken-yard: +every one cut to cover--one small boy diving under the sofa, another +under the table, while the owner would hastily pull down a book or +two and open them, and cry out in a meek voice, “Hullo, who's there?” + casting an anxious eye round to see that no protruding leg or elbow +could betray the hidden boys. “Open, sir, directly; it's Snooks.” + “Oh, I'm very sorry; I didn't know it was you, Snooks.” And then with +well-feigned zeal the door would be opened, young hopeful praying that +that beast Snooks mightn't have heard the scuffle caused by his coming. +If a study was empty, Snooks proceeded to draw the passages and hall to +find the truants. + +Well, one evening, in forbidden hours, Tom and East were in the hall. +They occupied the seats before the fire nearest the door, while Diggs +sprawled as usual before the farther fire. He was busy with a copy of +verses, and East and Tom were chatting together in whispers by the light +of the fire, and splicing a favourite old fives bat which had sprung. +Presently a step came down the bottom passage. They listened a moment, +assured themselves that it wasn't a praepostor, and then went on with +their work, and the door swung open, and in walked Flashman. He didn't +see Diggs, and thought it a good chance to keep his hand in; and as the +boys didn't move for him, struck one of them, to make them get out of +his way. + +“What's that for?” growled the assaulted one. + +“Because I choose. You've no business here. Go to your study.” + +“You can't send us.” + +“Can't I? Then I'll thrash you if you stay,” said Flashman savagely. + +“I say, you two,” said Diggs, from the end of the hall, rousing up and +resting himself on his elbow--“you'll never get rid of that fellow till +you lick him. Go in at him, both of you. I'll see fair play.” + +Flashman was taken aback, and retreated two steps. East looked at +Tom. “Shall we try!” said he. “Yes,” said Tom desperately. So the two +advanced on Flashman, with clenched fists and beating hearts. They were +about up to his shoulder, but tough boys of their age, and in perfect +training; while he, though strong and big, was in poor condition from +his monstrous habit of stuffing and want of exercise. Coward as he was, +however, Flashman couldn't swallow such an insult as this; besides, he +was confident of having easy work, and so faced the boys, saying, “You +impudent young blackguards!” Before he could finish his abuse, they +rushed in on him, and began pummelling at all of him which they could +reach. He hit out wildly and savagely; but the full force of his blows +didn't tell--they were too near to him. It was long odds, though, in +point of strength; and in another minute Tom went spinning backwards +over a form, and Flashman turned to demolish East with a savage grin. +But now Diggs jumped down from the table on which he had seated himself. +“Stop there,” shouted he; “the round's over--half-minute time allowed.” + +“What the --- is it to you?” faltered Flashman, who began to lose heart. + +“I'm going to see fair, I tell you,” said Diggs, with a grin, and +snapping his great red fingers; “'taint fair for you to be fighting one +of them at a time.--Are you ready, Brown? Time's up.” + +The small boys rushed in again. Closing, they saw, was their best +chance, and Flashman was wilder and more flurried than ever: he caught +East by the throat, and tried to force him back on the iron-bound table. +Tom grasped his waist, and remembering the old throw he had learned +in the Vale from Harry Winburn, crooked his leg inside Flashman's, and +threw his whole weight forward. The three tottered for a moment, and +then over they went on to the floor, Flashman striking his head against +a form in the hall. + +The two youngsters sprang to their legs, but he lay there still. They +began to be frightened. Tom stooped down, and then cried out, scared +out of his wits, “He's bleeding awfully. Come here, East! Diggs, he's +dying!” + +“Not he,” said Diggs, getting leisurely off the table; “it's all sham; +he's only afraid to fight it out.” + +East was as frightened as Tom. Diggs lifted Flashman's head, and he +groaned. + +“What's the matter?” shouted Diggs. + +“My skull's fractured,” sobbed Flashman. + +“Oh, let me run for the housekeeper!” cried Tom. “What shall we do?” + +“Fiddlesticks! It's nothing but the skin broken,” said the relentless +Diggs, feeling his head. “Cold water and a bit of rag's all he'll want.” + +“Let me go,” said Flashman surlily, sitting up; “I don't want your +help.” + +“We're really very sorry--” began East. + +“Hang your sorrow!” answered Flashman, holding his handkerchief to the +place; “you shall pay for this, I can tell you, both of you.” And he +walked out of the hall. + +“He can't be very bad,” said Tom, with a deep sigh, much relieved to see +his enemy march so well. + +“Not he,” said Diggs; “and you'll see you won't be troubled with him any +more. But, I say, your head's broken too; your collar is covered with +blood.” + +“Is it though?” said Tom, putting up his hand; “I didn't know it.” + +“Well, mop it up, or you'll have your jacket spoilt. And you have got a +nasty eye, Scud. You'd better go and bathe it well in cold water.” + +“Cheap enough too, if we're done with our old friend Flashey,” said +East, as they made off upstairs to bathe their wounds. + +They had done with Flashman in one sense, for he never laid finger on +either of them again; but whatever harm a spiteful heart and venomous +tongue could do them, he took care should be done. Only throw dirt +enough, and some of it is sure to stick; and so it was with the fifth +form and the bigger boys in general, with whom he associated more or +less, and they not at all. Flashman managed to get Tom and East into +disfavour, which did not wear off for some time after the author of it +had disappeared from the School world. This event, much prayed for +by the small fry in general, took place a few months after the above +encounter. One fine summer evening Flashman had been regaling himself on +gin-punch, at Brownsover; and, having exceeded his usual limits, started +home uproarious. He fell in with a friend or two coming back from +bathing, proposed a glass of beer, to which they assented, the weather +being hot, and they thirsty souls, and unaware of the quantity of drink +which Flashman had already on board. The short result was, that Flashey +became beastly drunk. They tried to get him along, but couldn't; so they +chartered a hurdle and two men to carry him. One of the masters came +upon them, and they naturally enough fled. The flight of the rest raised +the master's suspicions, and the good angel of the fags incited him +to examine the freight, and, after examination, to convoy the hurdle +himself up to the School-house; and the Doctor, who had long had his eye +on Flashman, arranged for his withdrawal next morning. + +The evil that men and boys too do lives after them: Flashman was gone, +but our boys, as hinted above, still felt the effects of his hate. +Besides, they had been the movers of the strike against unlawful +fagging. The cause was righteous--the result had been triumphant to a +great extent; but the best of the fifth--even those who had never fagged +the small boys, or had given up the practice cheerfully--couldn't help +feeling a small grudge against the first rebels. After all, their form +had been defied, on just grounds, no doubt--so just, indeed, that they +had at once acknowledged the wrong, and remained passive in the strife. +Had they sided with Flashman and his set, the rebels must have given way +at once. They couldn't help, on the whole, being glad that they had so +acted, and that the resistance had been successful against such of their +own form as had shown fight; they felt that law and order had gained +thereby, but the ringleaders they couldn't quite pardon at once. +“Confoundedly coxy those young rascals will get, if we don't mind,” was +the general feeling. + +So it is, and must be always, my dear boys. If the angel Gabriel were +to come down from heaven, and head a successful rise against the most +abominable and unrighteous vested interest which this poor old world +groans under, he would most certainly lose his character for many years, +probably for centuries, not only with the upholders of said vested +interest, but with the respectable mass of the people whom he had +delivered. They wouldn't ask him to dinner, or let their names appear +with his in the papers; they would be very careful how they spoke of +him in the Palaver, or at their clubs. What can we expect, then, when we +have only poor gallant blundering men like Kossuth, Garibaldi, Mazzini, +and righteous causes which do not triumph in their hands--men who +have holes enough in their armour, God knows, easy to be hit by +respectabilities sitting in their lounging chairs, and having large +balances at their bankers'? But you are brave, gallant boys, who hate +easy-chairs, and have no balances or bankers. You only want to have +your heads set straight, to take the right side; so bear in mind that +majorities, especially respectable ones, are nine times out of ten in +the wrong; and that if you see a man or boy striving earnestly on the +weak side, however wrong-headed or blundering he may be, you are not to +go and join the cry against him. If you can't join him and help him, and +make him wiser, at any rate remember that he has found something in the +world which he will fight and suffer for, which is just what you have +got to do for yourselves; and so think and speak of him tenderly. + +So East and Tom, the Tadpole, and one or two more, became a sort of +young Ishmaelites, their hands against every one, and every one's hand +against them. It has been already told how they got to war with the +masters and the fifth form, and with the sixth it was much the same. +They saw the praepostors cowed by or joining with the fifth and shirking +their own duties; so they didn't respect them, and rendered no willing +obedience. It had been one thing to clean out studies for sons of heroes +like old Brooke, but was quite another to do the like for Snooks and +Green, who had never faced a good scrummage at football, and couldn't +keep the passages in order at night. So they only slurred through their +fagging just well enough to escape a licking, and not always that, and +got the character of sulky, unwilling fags. In the fifth-form room, +after supper, when such matters were often discussed and arranged, their +names were for ever coming up. + +“I say, Green,” Snooks began one night, “isn't that new boy, Harrison, +your fag?” + +“Yes; why?” + +“Oh, I know something of him at home, and should like to excuse him. +Will you swop?” + +“Who will you give me?” + +“Well, let's see. There's Willis, Johnson. No, that won't do. Yes, I +have it. There's young East; I'll give you him.” + +“Don't you wish you may get it?” replied Green. “I'll give you two for +Willis, if you like.” + +“Who, then?” asked Snooks. “Hall and Brown.” + +“Wouldn't have 'em at a gift.” + +“Better than East, though; for they ain't quite so sharp,” said Green, +getting up and leaning his back against the mantelpiece. He wasn't a bad +fellow, and couldn't help not being able to put down the unruly fifth +form. His eye twinkled as he went on, “Did I ever tell you how the young +vagabond sold me last half?” + +“No; how?” + +“Well, he never half cleaned my study out--only just stuck the +candlesticks in the cupboard, and swept the crumbs on to the floor. So +at last I was mortal angry, and had him up, and made him go through the +whole performance under my eyes. The dust the young scamp made nearly +choked me, and showed that he hadn't swept the carpet before. Well, when +it was all finished, 'Now, young gentleman,' says I, 'mind, I expect +this to be done every morning--floor swept, table-cloth taken off and +shaken, and everything dusted.' 'Very well,' grunts he. Not a bit of +it though. I was quite sure, in a day or two, that he never took the +table-cloth off even. So I laid a trap for him. I tore up some paper, +and put half a dozen bits on my table one night, and the cloth over them +as usual. Next morning after breakfast up I came, pulled off the cloth, +and, sure enough, there was the paper, which fluttered down on to the +floor. I was in a towering rage. 'I've got you now,' thought I, and sent +for him, while I got out my cane. Up he came as cool as you please, with +his hands in his pockets. 'Didn't I tell you to shake my table-cloth +every morning?' roared I. 'Yes,' says he. 'Did you do it this morning?' +'Yes.' 'You young liar! I put these pieces of paper on the table last +night, and if you'd taken the table-cloth off you'd have seen them, so +I'm going to give you a good licking.' Then my youngster takes one hand +out of his pocket, and just stoops down and picks up two of the bits +of paper, and holds them out to me. There was written on each, in great +round text, 'Harry East, his mark.' The young rogue had found my +trap out, taken away my paper, and put some of his there, every bit +ear-marked. I'd a great mind to lick him for his impudence; but, after +all, one has no right to be laying traps, so I didn't. Of course I was +at his mercy till the end of the half, and in his weeks my study was so +frowzy I couldn't sit in it.” + +“They spoil one's things so, too,” chimed in a third boy. “Hall and +Brown were night-fags last week. I called 'fag,' and gave them my +candlesticks to clean. Away they went, and didn't appear again. When +they'd had time enough to clean them three times over, I went out to +look after them. They weren't in the passages so down I went into the +hall, where I heard music; and there I found them sitting on the table, +listening to Johnson, who was playing the flute, and my candlesticks +stuck between the bars well into the fire, red-hot, clean spoiled. +They've never stood straight since, and I must get some more. However, I +gave them a good licking; that's one comfort.” + +Such were the sort of scrapes they were always getting into; and so, +partly by their own faults, partly from circumstances, partly from the +faults of others, they found themselves outlaws, ticket-of-leave men, or +what you will in that line--in short, dangerous parties--and lived the +sort of hand-to-mouth, wild, reckless life which such parties generally +have to put up with. Nevertheless they never quite lost favour with +young Brooke, who was now the cock of the house, and just getting into +the sixth; and Diggs stuck to them like a man, and gave them store of +good advice, by which they never in the least profited. + +And even after the house mended, and law and order had been restored, +which soon happened after young Brooke and Diggs got into the sixth, +they couldn't easily or at once return into the paths of steadiness, and +many of the old, wild, out-of-bounds habits stuck to them as firmly as +ever. While they had been quite little boys, the scrapes they got into +in the School hadn't much mattered to any one; but now they were in the +upper school, all wrong-doers from which were sent up straight to the +Doctor at once. So they began to come under his notice; and as they were +a sort of leaders in a small way amongst their own contemporaries, his +eye, which was everywhere, was upon them. + +It was a toss-up whether they turned out well or ill, and so they were +just the boys who caused most anxiety to such a master. You have been +told of the first occasion on which they were sent up to the Doctor, and +the remembrance of it was so pleasant that they had much less fear of +him than most boys of their standing had. “It's all his look,” Tom used +to say to East, “that frightens fellows. Don't you remember, he never +said anything to us my first half-year for being an hour late for +locking-up?” + +The next time that Tom came before him, however, the interview was of +a very different kind. It happened just about the time at which we have +now arrived, and was the first of a series of scrapes into which our +hero managed now to tumble. + +The river Avon at Rugby is a slow and not very clear stream, in which +chub, dace, roach, and other coarse fish are (or were) plentiful +enough, together with a fair sprinkling of small jack, but no fish worth +sixpence either for sport or food. It is, however, a capital river for +bathing, as it has many nice small pools and several good reaches for +swimming, all within about a mile of one another, and at an easy twenty +minutes' walk from the school. This mile of water is rented, or used to +be rented, for bathing purposes by the trustees of the School, for the +boys. The footpath to Brownsover crosses the river by “the Planks,” a +curious old single-plank bridge running for fifty or sixty yards into +the flat meadows on each side of the river--for in the winter there +are frequent floods. Above the Planks were the bathing-places for the +smaller boys--Sleath's, the first bathing-place, where all new boys +had to begin, until they had proved to the bathing men (three steady +individuals, who were paid to attend daily through the summer to prevent +accidents) that they could swim pretty decently, when they were allowed +to go on to Anstey's, about one hundred and fifty yards below. Here +there was a hole about six feet deep and twelve feet across, over which +the puffing urchins struggled to the opposite side, and thought no small +beer of themselves for having been out of their depths. Below the Planks +came larger and deeper holes, the first of which was Wratislaw's, and +the last Swift's, a famous hole, ten or twelve feet deep in parts, and +thirty yards across, from which there was a fine swimming reach right +down to the mill. Swift's was reserved for the sixth and fifth forms, +and had a spring board and two sets of steps: the others had one set of +steps each, and were used indifferently by all the lower boys, though +each house addicted itself more to one hole than to another. The +School-house at this time affected Wratislaw's hole, and Tom and East, +who had learnt to swim like fishes, were to be found there as regular as +the clock through the summer, always twice, and often three times a day. + +Now the boys either had, or fancied they had, a right also to fish at +their pleasure over the whole of this part of the river, and would not +understand that the right (if any) only extended to the Rugby side. As +ill-luck would have it, the gentleman who owned the opposite bank, after +allowing it for some time without interference, had ordered his keepers +not to let the boys fish on his side--the consequence of which had been +that there had been first wranglings and then fights between the keepers +and boys; and so keen had the quarrel become that the landlord and his +keepers, after a ducking had been inflicted on one of the latter, and +a fierce fight ensued thereon, had been up to the great school at +calling-over to identify the delinquents, and it was all the Doctor +himself and five or six masters could do to keep the peace. Not even his +authority could prevent the hissing; and so strong was the feeling that +the four praepostors of the week walked up the school with their canes, +shouting “S-s-s-s-i-lenc-c-c-c-e” at the top of their voices. However, +the chief offenders for the time were flogged and kept in bounds; but +the victorious party had brought a nice hornet's nest about their ears. +The landlord was hissed at the School-gates as he rode past, and when he +charged his horse at the mob of boys, and tried to thrash them with +his whip, was driven back by cricket-bats and wickets, and pursued with +pebbles and fives balls; while the wretched keepers' lives were a burden +to them, from having to watch the waters so closely. + +The School-house boys of Tom's standing, one and all, as a protest +against this tyranny and cutting short of their lawful amusements, took +to fishing in all ways, and especially by means of night-lines. The +little tacklemaker at the bottom of the town would soon have made his +fortune had the rage lasted, and several of the barbers began to lay in +fishing-tackle. The boys had this great advantage over their enemies, +that they spent a large portion of the day in nature's garb by the +river-side, and so, when tired of swimming, would get out on the other +side and fish, or set night-lines, till the keepers hove in sight, and +then plunge in and swim back and mix with the other bathers, and the +keepers were too wise to follow across the stream. + +While things were in this state, one day Tom and three or four others +were bathing at Wratislaw's, and had, as a matter of course, been taking +up and re-setting night-lines. They had all left the water, and were +sitting or standing about at their toilets, in all costumes, from +a shirt upwards, when they were aware of a man in a velveteen +shooting-coat approaching from the other side. He was a new keeper, so +they didn't recognize or notice him, till he pulled up right opposite, +and began: + +“I see'd some of you young gentlemen over this side a-fishing just now.” + +“Hullo! who are you? What business is that of yours, old Velveteens?” + +“I'm the new under-keeper, and master's told me to keep a sharp lookout +on all o' you young chaps. And I tells 'ee I means business, and you'd +better keep on your own side, or we shall fall out.” + +“Well, that's right, Velveteens; speak out, and let's know your mind at +once.” + +“Look here, old boy,” cried East, holding up a miserable, coarse fish +or two and a small jack; “would you like to smell 'em and see which bank +they lived under?” + +“I'll give you a bit of advice, keeper,” shouted Tom, who was sitting +in his shirt paddling with his feet in the river: “you'd better go down +there to Swift's, where the big boys are; they're beggars at setting +lines, and'll put you up to a wrinkle or two for catching the +five-pounders.” Tom was nearest to the keeper, and that officer, who was +getting angry at the chaff, fixed his eyes on our hero, as if to take a +note of him for future use. Tom returned his gaze with a steady stare, +and then broke into a laugh, and struck into the middle of a favourite +School-house song,-- + + “As I and my companions + Were setting of a snare + The gamekeeper was watching us; + For him we did not care: + For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, + And jump out anywhere. + For it's my delight of a likely night, + In the season of the year.” + +The chorus was taken up by the other boys with shouts of laughter, and +the keeper turned away with a grunt, but evidently bent on mischief. The +boys thought no more of the matter. + +But now came on the May-fly season; the soft, hazy summer weather lay +sleepily along the rich meadows by Avon side, and the green and gray +flies flickered with their graceful, lazy up-and-down flight over +the reeds and the water and the meadows, in myriads upon myriads. +The May-flies must surely be the lotus-eaters of the ephemerae--the +happiest, laziest, carelessest fly that dances and dreams out his few +hours of sunshiny life by English rivers. + +Every little pitiful, coarse fish in the Avon was on the alert for +the flies, and gorging his wretched carcass with hundreds daily, the +gluttonous rogues! and every lover of the gentle craft was out to avenge +the poor May-flies. + +So one fine Thursday afternoon, Tom, having borrowed East's new rod, +started by himself to the river. He fished for some time with small +success--not a fish would rise at him; but as he prowled along the bank, +he was presently aware of mighty ones feeding in a pool on the opposite +side, under the shade of a huge willow-tree. The stream was deep +here, but some fifty yards below was a shallow, for which he made off +hot-foot; and forgetting landlords, keepers, solemn prohibitions of the +Doctor, and everything else, pulled up his trousers, plunged across, and +in three minutes was creeping along on all fours towards the clump of +willows. + +It isn't often that great chub, or any other coarse fish, are in earnest +about anything; but just then they were thoroughly bent on feeding, and +in half an hour Master Tom had deposited three thumping fellows at the +foot of the giant willow. As he was baiting for a fourth pounder, and +just going to throw in again, he became aware of a man coming up the +bank not one hundred yards off. Another look told him that it was the +under-keeper. Could he reach the shallow before him? No, not carrying +his rod. Nothing for it but the tree. So Tom laid his bones to it, +shinning up as fast as he could, and dragging up his rod after him. He +had just time to reach and crouch along upon a huge branch some ten feet +up, which stretched out over the river, when the keeper arrived at the +clump. Tom's heart beat fast as he came under the tree; two steps more +and he would have passed, when, as ill-luck would have it, the gleam on +the scales of the dead fish caught his eye, and he made a dead point +at the foot of the tree. He picked up the fish one by one; his eye and +touch told him that they had been alive and feeding within the hour. Tom +crouched lower along the branch, and heard the keeper beating the clump. +“If I could only get the rod hidden,” thought he, and began gently +shifting it to get it alongside of him; “willowtrees don't throw out +straight hickory shoots twelve feet long, with no leaves, worse luck.” + Alas! the keeper catches the rustle, and then a sight of the rod, and +then of Tom's hand and arm. + +“Oh, be up ther', be 'ee?” says he, running under the tree. “Now you +come down this minute.” + +“Tree'd at last,” thinks Tom, making no answer, and keeping as close as +possible, but working away at the rod, which he takes to pieces. “I'm +in for it, unless I can starve him out.” And then he begins to meditate +getting along the branch for a plunge, and scramble to the other side; +but the small branches are so thick, and the opposite bank so difficult, +that the keeper will have lots of time to get round by the ford before +he can get out, so he gives that up. And now he hears the keeper +beginning to scramble up the trunk. That will never do; so he scrambles +himself back to where his branch joins the trunk; and stands with lifted +rod. + +“Hullo, Velveteens; mind your fingers if you come any higher.” + +The keeper stops and looks up, and then with a grin says, “Oh! be you, +be it, young measter? Well, here's luck. Now I tells 'ee to come down at +once, and 't'll be best for 'ee.” + +“Thank 'ee, Velveteens; I'm very comfortable,” said Tom, shortening the +rod in his hand, and preparing for battle. + +“Werry well; please yourself,” says the keeper, descending, however, +to the ground again, and taking his seat on the bank. “I bean't in no +hurry, so you may take your time. I'll l'arn 'ee to gee honest folk +names afore I've done with 'ee.” + +“My luck as usual,” thinks Tom; “what a fool I was to give him a black! +If I'd called him 'keeper,' now, I might get off. The return match is +all his way.” + +The keeper quietly proceeded to take out his pipe, fill, and light it, +keeping an eye on Tom, who now sat disconsolately across the branch, +looking at keeper--a pitiful sight for men and fishes. The more he +thought of it the less he liked it. “It must be getting near second +calling-over,” thinks he. Keeper smokes on stolidly. “If he takes me up, +I shall be flogged safe enough. I can't sit here all night. Wonder if +he'll rise at silver.” + +“I say, keeper,” said he meekly, “let me go for two bob?” + +“Not for twenty neither,” grunts his persecutor. + +And so they sat on till long past second calling-over, and the sun came +slanting in through the willow-branches, and telling of locking-up near +at hand. + +“I'm coming down, keeper,” said Tom at last, with a sigh, fairly tired +out. “Now what are you going to do?” + +“Walk 'ee up to School, and give 'ee over to the Doctor; them's my +orders,” says Velveteens, knocking the ashes out of his fourth pipe, and +standing up and shaking himself. + +“Very good,” said Tom; “but hands off, you know. I'll go with you +quietly, so no collaring or that sort of thing.” + +Keeper looked at him a minute. “Werry good,” said he at last. And so Tom +descended, and wended his way drearily by the side of the keeper, up to +the Schoolhouse, where they arrived just at locking-up. As they passed +the School-gates, the Tadpole and several others who were standing there +caught the state of things, and rushed out, crying, “Rescue!” But Tom +shook his head; so they only followed to the Doctor's gate, and went +back sorely puzzled. + +How changed and stern the Doctor seemed from the last time that Tom was +up there, as the keeper told the story, not omitting to state how Tom +had called him blackguard names. “Indeed, sir,” broke in the culprit, +“it was only Velveteens.” The Doctor only asked one question. + +“You know the rule about the banks, Brown?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then wait for me to-morrow, after first lesson.” + +“I thought so,” muttered Tom. + +“And about the rod, sir?” went on the keeper. “Master's told we as we +might have all the rods--” + +“Oh, please, sir,” broke in Tom, “the rod isn't mine.” + +The Doctor looked puzzled; but the keeper, who was a good-hearted +fellow, and melted at Tom's evident distress, gave up his claim. Tom +was flogged next morning, and a few days afterwards met Velveteens, and +presented him with half a crown for giving up the rod claim, and they +became sworn friends; and I regret to say that Tom had many more fish +from under the willow that May-fly season, and was never caught again by +Velveteens. + +It wasn't three weeks before Tom, and now East by his side, were +again in the awful presence. This time, however, the Doctor was not so +terrible. A few days before, they had been fagged at fives to fetch the +balls that went off the court. While standing watching the game, they +saw five or six nearly new balls hit on the top of the School. “I say, +Tom,” said East, when they were dismissed, “couldn't we get those balls +somehow?” + +“Let's try, anyhow.” + +So they reconnoitred the walls carefully, borrowed a coal-hammer from +old Stumps, bought some big nails, and after one or two attempts, scaled +the Schools, and possessed themselves of huge quantities of fives balls. +The place pleased them so much that they spent all their spare time +there, scratching and cutting their names on the top of every tower; and +at last, having exhausted all other places, finished up with inscribing +H.EAST, T.BROWN, on the minute-hand of the great clock; in the doing of +which they held the minute-hand, and disturbed the clock's economy. So +next morning, when masters and boys came trooping down to prayers, and +entered the quadrangle, the injured minute-hand was indicating three +minutes to the hour. They all pulled up, and took their time. When the +hour struck, doors were closed, and half the school late. Thomas being +set to make inquiry, discovers their names on the minute-hand, and +reports accordingly; and they are sent for, a knot of their friends +making derisive and pantomimic allusions to what their fate will be as +they walk off. + +But the Doctor, after hearing their story, doesn't make much of it, and +only gives them thirty lines of Homer to learn by heart, and a lecture +on the likelihood of such exploits ending in broken bones. + +Alas! almost the next day was one of the great fairs in the town; and as +several rows and other disagreeable accidents had of late taken place +on these occasions, the Doctor gives out, after prayers in the morning, +that no boy is to go down into the town. Wherefore East and Tom, for +no earthly pleasure except that of doing what they are told not to do, +start away, after second lesson, and making a short circuit through the +fields, strike a back lane which leads into the town, go down it, and +run plump upon one of the masters as they emerge into the High Street. +The master in question, though a very clever, is not a righteous man. +He has already caught several of his own pupils, and gives them lines +to learn, while he sends East and Tom, who are not his pupils, up to the +Doctor, who, on learning that they had been at prayers in the morning, +flogs them soundly. + +The flogging did them no good at the time, for the injustice of their +captor was rankling in their minds; but it was just the end of the half, +and on the next evening but one Thomas knocks at their door, and says +the Doctor wants to see them. They look at one another in silent dismay. +What can it be now? Which of their countless wrong-doings can he have +heard of officially? However, it's no use delaying, so up they go to the +study. There they find the Doctor, not angry, but very graver. “He has +sent for them to speak to very seriously before they go home. They have +each been flogged several times in the half-year for direct and +wilful breaches of rules. This cannot go on. They are doing no good to +themselves or others, and now they are getting up in the School, and +have influence. They seem to think that rules are made capriciously, and +for the pleasure of the masters; but this is not so. They are made for +the good of the whole School, and must and shall be obeyed. Those who +thoughtlessly or wilfully break them will not be allowed to stay at the +School. He should be sorry if they had to leave, as the School might +do them both much good, and wishes them to think very seriously in the +holidays over what he has said. Good-night.” + +And so the two hurry off horribly scared; the idea of having to leave +has never crossed their minds, and is quite unbearable. + +As they go out, they meet at the door old Holmes, a sturdy, cheery +praepostor of another house, who goes in to the Doctor; and they hear +his genial, hearty greeting of the newcomer, so different to their own +reception, as the door closes, and return to their study with heavy +hearts, and tremendous resolves to break no more rules. + +Five minutes afterwards the master of their form--a late arrival and a +model young master--knocks at the Doctor's study-door. “Come in!” And +as he enters, the Doctor goes on, to Holmes--“You see, I do not know +anything of the case officially, and if I take any notice of it at all, +I must publicly expel the boy. I don't wish to do that, for I think +there is some good in him. There's nothing for it but a good sound +thrashing.” He paused to shake hands with the master, which Holmes does +also, and then prepares to leave. + +“I understand. Good-night, sir.” + +“Good-night, Holmes. And remember,” added the Doctor, emphasizing the +words, “a good sound thrashing before the whole house.” + +The door closed on Holmes; and the Doctor, in answer to the puzzled +look of his lieutenant, explained shortly. “A gross case of bullying. +Wharton, the head of the house, is a very good fellow, but slight and +weak, and severe physical pain is the only way to deal with such a +case; so I have asked Holmes to take it up. He is very careful and +trustworthy, and has plenty of strength. I wish all the sixth had as +much. We must have it here, if we are to keep order at all.” + +Now I don't want any wiseacres to read this book, but if they should, of +course they will prick up their long ears, and howl, or rather bray, at +the above story. Very good--I don't object; but what I have to add for +you boys is this, that Holmes called a levy of his house after breakfast +next morning, made them a speech on the case of bullying in question, +and then gave the bully a “good sound thrashing;” and that years +afterwards, that boy sought out Holmes, and thanked him, saying it +had been the kindest act which had ever been done upon him, and the +turning-point in his character; and a very good fellow he became, and a +credit to his School. + +After some other talk between them, the Doctor said, “I want to speak +to you about two boys in your form, East and Brown. I have just been +speaking to them. What do you think of them?” + +“Well, they are not hard workers, and very thoughtless and full of +spirits; but I can't help liking them. I think they are sound, good +fellows at the bottom.” + +“I'm glad of it. I think so too: But they make me very uneasy. They are +taking the lead a good deal amongst the fags in my house, for they are +very active, bold fellows. I should be sorry to lose them, but I shan't +let them stay if I don't see them gaining character and manliness. In +another year they may do great harm to all the younger boys.” + +“Oh, I hope you won't send them away,” pleaded their master. + +“Not if I can help it. But now I never feel sure, after any +half-holiday, that I shan't have to flog one of them next morning, for +some foolish, thoughtless scrape. I quite dread seeing either of them.” + +They were both silent for a minute. Presently the Doctor began again:-- + +“They don't feel that they have any duty or work to do in the school, +and how is one to make them feel it?” + +“I think if either of them had some little boy to take care of, it would +steady them. Brown is the most reckless of the two, I should say. East +wouldn't get into so many scrapes without him.” + +“Well,” said the Doctor, with something like a sigh, “I'll think of it.” + And they went on to talk of other subjects. + + + + +PART II. + + “I [hold] it truth, with him who sings, + To one clear harp in divers tones, + That men may rise on stepping-stones + Of their dead selves to higher things.” + --TENNYSON. + + + + +CHAPTER I--HOW THE TIDE TURNED. + + “Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, + In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side. + . . . . + Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside, + Doubting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is crucified.” + --LOWELL. + +The turning-point in our hero's school career had now come, and the +manner of it was as follows. On the evening of the first day of the next +half-year, Tom, East, and another School-house boy, who had just been +dropped at the Spread Eagle by the old Regulator, rushed into the +matron's room in high spirits, such as all real boys are in when they +first get back, however fond they may be of home. + +“Well, Mrs. Wixie,” shouted one, seizing on the methodical, active, +little dark-eyed woman, who was busy stowing away the linen of the boys +who had already arrived into their several pigeon-holes, “here we are +again, you see, as jolly as ever. Let us help you put the things away.” + +“And, Mary,” cried another (she was called indifferently by either +name), “who's come back? Has the Doctor made old Jones leave? How many +new boys are there?” + +“Am I and East to have Gray's study? You know you promised to get it for +us if you could,” shouted Tom. + +“And am I to sleep in Number 4?” roared East. + +“How's old Sam, and Bogle, and Sally?” + +“Bless the boys!” cries Mary, at last getting in a word; “why, you'll +shake me to death. There, now, do go away up to the housekeeper's room +and get your suppers; you know I haven't time to talk. You'll find +plenty more in the house.--Now, Master East, do let those things alone. +You're mixing up three new boys' things.” And she rushed at East, who +escaped round the open trunks holding up a prize. + +“Hullo! look here, Tommy,” shouted he; “here's fun!” and he brandished +above his head some pretty little night-caps, beautifully made and +marked, the work of loving fingers in some distant country home. The +kind mother and sisters who sewed that delicate stitching with aching +hearts little thought of the trouble they might be bringing on the +young head for which they were meant. The little matron was wiser, and +snatched the caps from East before he could look at the name on them. + +“Now, Master East, I shall be very angry if you don't go,” said she; +“there's some capital cold beef and pickles upstairs, and I won't have +you old boys in my room first night.” + +“Hurrah for the pickles! Come along, Tommy--come along, Smith. We shall +find out who the young count is, I'll be bound. I hope he'll sleep in my +room. Mary's always vicious first week.” + +As the boys turned to leave the room, the matron touched Tom's arm, and +said, “Master Brown, please stop a minute; I want to speak to you.” + +“Very well, Mary. I'll come in a minute, East. Don't finish the +pickles.” + +“O Master Brown,” went on the little matron, when the rest had gone, +“you're to have Gray's study, Mrs. Arnold says. And she wants you to +take in this young gentleman. He's a new boy, and thirteen years old +though he don't look it. He's very delicate, and has never been from +home before. And I told Mrs. Arnold I thought you'd be kind to him, and +see that they don't bully him at first. He's put into your form, and +I've given him the bed next to yours in Number 4; so East can't sleep +there this half.” + +Tom was rather put about by this speech. He had got the double study +which he coveted, but here were conditions attached which greatly +moderated his joy. He looked across the room, and in the far corner of +the sofa was aware of a slight, pale boy, with large blue eyes and light +fair hair, who seemed ready to shrink through the floor. He saw at a +glance that the little stranger was just the boy whose first half-year +at a public school would be misery to himself if he were left alone, or +constant anxiety to any one who meant to see him through his troubles. +Tom was too honest to take in the youngster, and then let him shift for +himself; and if he took him as his chum instead of East, where were +all his pet plans of having a bottled-beer cellar under his window, and +making night-lines and slings, and plotting expeditions to Brownsover +Mills and Caldecott's Spinney? East and he had made up their minds to +get this study, and then every night from locking-up till ten they would +be together to talk about fishing, drink bottled-beer, read Marryat's +novels, and sort birds' eggs. And this new boy would most likely never +go out of the close, and would be afraid of wet feet, and always getting +laughed at, and called Molly, or Jenny, or some derogatory feminine +nickname. + +The matron watched him for a moment, and saw what was passing in his +mind, and so, like a wise negotiator, threw in an appeal to his warm +heart. “Poor little fellow,” said she, in almost a whisper; “his +father's dead, and he's got no brothers. And his mamma--such a kind, +sweet lady--almost broke her heart at leaving him this morning; and she +said one of his sisters was like to die of decline, and so--” + +“Well, well,” burst in Tom, with something like a sigh at the effort, +“I suppose I must give up East.--Come along, young un. What's your name? +We'll go and have some supper, and then I'll show you our study.” + +“His name's George Arthur,” said the matron, walking up to him with Tom, +who grasped his little delicate hand as the proper preliminary to making +a chum of him, and felt as if he could have blown him away. “I've had +his books and things put into the study, which his mamma has had new +papered, and the sofa covered, and new green-baize curtains over the +door” (the diplomatic matron threw this in, to show that the new boy was +contributing largely to the partnership comforts). “And Mrs. Arnold told +me to say,” she added, “that she should like you both to come up to tea +with her. You know the way, Master Brown, and the things are just gone +up, I know.” + +Here was an announcement for Master Tom! He was to go up to tea the +first night, just as if he were a sixth or fifth form boy, and of +importance in the School world, instead of the most reckless young +scapegrace amongst the fags. He felt himself lifted on to a higher +social and moral platform at once. Nevertheless he couldn't give up +without a sigh the idea of the jolly supper in the housekeeper's room +with East and the rest, and a rush round to all the studies of his +friends afterwards, to pour out the deeds and wonders of the holidays, +to plot fifty plans for the coming half-year, and to gather news of who +had left and what new boys had come, who had got who's study, and where +the new praepostors slept. However, Tom consoled himself with thinking +that he couldn't have done all this with the new boy at his heels, and +so marched off along the passages to the Doctor's private house with his +young charge in tow, in monstrous good-humour with himself and all the +world. + +It is needless, and would be impertinent, to tell how the two young boys +were received in that drawing-room. The lady who presided there is still +living, and has carried with her to her peaceful home in the north the +respect and love of all those who ever felt and shared that gentle and +high-bred hospitality. Ay, many is the brave heart, now doing its work +and bearing its load in country curacies, London chambers, under the +Indian sun, and in Australian towns and clearings, which looks back with +fond and grateful memory to that School-house drawing-room, and dates +much of its highest and best training to the lessons learnt there. + +Besides Mrs. Arnold and one or two of the elder children, there were one +of the younger masters, young Brooke (who was now in the sixth, and +had succeeded to his brother's position and influence), and another +sixth-form boy, talking together before the fire. The master and young +Brooke, now a great strapping fellow six feet high, eighteen years old, +and powerful as a coal-heaver, nodded kindly to Tom, to his intense +glory, and then went on talking. The other did not notice them. +The hostess, after a few kind words, which led the boys at once and +insensibly to feel at their ease and to begin talking to one another, +left them with her own children while she finished a letter. The young +ones got on fast and well, Tom holding forth about a prodigious pony he +had been riding out hunting, and hearing stories of the winter glories +of the lakes, when tea came in, and immediately after the Doctor +himself. + +How frank, and kind, and manly was his greeting to the party by the +fire! It did Tom's heart good to see him and young Brooke shake hands, +and look one another in the face; and he didn't fail to remark that +Brooke was nearly as tall and quite as broad as the Doctor. And his cup +was full when in another moment his master turned to him with another +warm shake of the hand, and, seemingly oblivious of all the late scrapes +which he had been getting into, said, “Ah, Brown, you here! I hope you +left your father and all well at home?” + +“Yes, sir, quite well.” + +“And this is the little fellow who is to share your study. Well, he +doesn't look as we should like to see him. He wants some Rugby air, and +cricket. And you must take him some good long walks, to Bilton Grange, +and Caldecott's Spinney, and show him what a little pretty country we +have about here.” + +Tom wondered if the Doctor knew that his visits to Bilton Grange +were for the purpose of taking rooks' nests (a proceeding strongly +discountenanced by the owner thereof), and those to Caldecott's Spinney +were prompted chiefly by the conveniences for setting night-lines. What +didn't the Doctor know? And what a noble use he always made of it! He +almost resolved to abjure rook-pies and night-lines for ever. The tea +went merrily off, the Doctor now talking of holiday doings, and then of +the prospects of the half-year--what chance there was for the Balliol +scholarship, whether the eleven would be a good one. Everybody was at +his ease, and everybody felt that he, young as he might be, was of some +use in the little School world, and had a work to do there. + +Soon after tea the Doctor went off to his study, and the young boys a +few minutes afterwards took their leave and went out of the private door +which led from the Doctor's house into the middle passage. + +At the fire, at the farther end of the passage, was a crowd of boys in +loud talk and laughter. There was a sudden pause when the door opened, +and then a great shout of greeting, as Tom was recognized marching down +the passage. + +“Hullo, Brown! where do you come from?” + +“Oh, I've been to tea with the Doctor,” says Tom, with great dignity. + +“My eye!” cried East, “Oh! so that's why Mary called you back, and you +didn't come to supper. You lost something. That beef and pickles was no +end good.” + +“I say, young fellow,” cried Hall, detecting Arthur and catching him by +the collar, “what's your name? Where do you come from? How old are you?” + +Tom saw Arthur shrink back and look scared as all the group turned to +him, but thought it best to let him answer, just standing by his side to +support in case of need. + +“Arthur, sir. I come from Devonshire.” + +“Don't call me 'sir,' you young muff. How old are you?” + +“Thirteen.” + +“Can you sing?” + +The poor boy was trembling and hesitating. Tom struck in--“You be +hanged, Tadpole. He'll have to sing, whether he can or not, Saturday +twelve weeks, and that's long enough off yet.” + +“Do you know him at home, Brown?” + +“No; but he's my chum in Gray's old study, and it's near prayer-time, +and I haven't had a look at it yet.--Come along, Arthur.” + +Away went the two, Tom longing to get his charge safe under cover, where +he might advise him on his deportment. + +“What a queer chum for Tom Brown,” was the comment at the fire; and it +must be confessed so thought Tom himself, as he lighted his candle, and +surveyed the new green-baize curtains and the carpet and sofa with much +satisfaction. + +“I say, Arthur, what a brick your mother is to make us so cozy! But look +here now; you must answer straight up when the fellows speak to you, and +don't be afraid. If you're afraid, you'll get bullied. And don't you +say you can sing; and don't you ever talk about home, or your mother and +sisters.” + +Poor little Arthur looked ready to cry. + +“But, please,” said he, “mayn't I talk about--about home to you?” + +“Oh yes; I like it. But don't talk to boys you don't know, or they'll +call you home-sick, or mamma's darling, or some such stuff. What a jolly +desk! Is that yours? And what stunning binding! Why, your school-books +look like novels.” + +And Tom was soon deep in Arthur's goods and chattels, all new, and good +enough for a fifth-form boy, and hardly thought of his friends outside +till the prayer-bell rang. + +I have already described the School-house prayers. They were the same on +the first night as on the other nights, save for the gaps caused by the +absence of those boys who came late, and the line of new boys who stood +all together at the farther table--of all sorts and sizes, like young +bears with all their troubles to come, as Tom's father had said to him +when he was in the same position. He thought of it as he looked at the +line, and poor little slight Arthur standing with them, and as he was +leading him upstairs to Number 4, directly after prayers, and showing +him his bed. It was a huge, high, airy room, with two large windows +looking on to the School close. There were twelve beds in the room. The +one in the farthest corner by the fireplace, occupied by the sixth-form +boy, who was responsible for the discipline of the room, and the rest +by boys in the lower-fifth and other junior forms, all fags (for the +fifth-form boys, as has been said, slept in rooms by themselves). Being +fags, the eldest of them was not more than about sixteen years old, and +were all bound to be up and in bed by ten. The sixth-form boys came to +bed from ten to a quarter-past (at which time the old verger came round +to put the candles out), except when they sat up to read. + +Within a few minutes therefore of their entry, all the other boys who +slept in Number 4 had come up. The little fellows went quietly to their +own beds, and began undressing, and talking to each other in whispers; +while the elder, amongst whom was Tom, sat chatting about on one +another's beds, with their jackets and waistcoats off. Poor little +Arthur was overwhelmed with the novelty of his position. The idea of +sleeping in the room with strange boys had clearly never crossed his +mind before, and was as painful as it was strange to him. He could +hardly bear to take his jacket off; however, presently, with an effort, +off it came, and then he paused and looked at Tom, who was sitting at +the bottom of his bed talking and laughing. + +“Please, Brown,” he whispered, “may I wash my face and hands?” + +“Of course, if you like,” said Tom, staring; “that's your +washhand-stand, under the window, second from your bed. You'll have to +go down for more water in the morning if you use it all.” And on he went +with his talk, while Arthur stole timidly from between the beds out +to his washhand-stand, and began his ablutions, thereby drawing for a +moment on himself the attention of the room. + +On went the talk and laughter. Arthur finished his washing and +undressing, and put on his night-gown. He then looked round more +nervously than ever. Two or three of the little boys were already in +bed, sitting up with their chins on their knees. The light burned clear, +the noise went on. It was a trying moment for the poor little lonely +boy; however, this time he didn't ask Tom what he might or might not do, +but dropped on his knees by his bedside, as he had done every day from +his childhood, to open his heart to Him who heareth the cry and beareth +the sorrows of the tender child, and the strong man in agony. + +Tom was sitting at the bottom of his bed unlacing his boots, so that his +back was towards Arthur, and he didn't see what had happened, and looked +up in wonder at the sudden silence. Then two or three boys laughed and +sneered, and a big, brutal fellow who was standing in the middle of the +room picked up a slipper, and shied it at the kneeling boy, calling him +a snivelling young shaver. Then Tom saw the whole, and the next moment +the boot he had just pulled off flew straight at the head of the bully, +who had just time to throw up his arm and catch it on his elbow. + +“Confound you, Brown! what's that for?” roared he, stamping with pain. + +“Never mind what I mean,” said Tom, stepping on to the floor, every drop +of blood in his body tingling; “if any fellow wants the other boot, he +knows how to get it.” + +What would have been the result is doubtful, for at this moment the +sixth-form boy came in, and not another word could be said. Tom and +the rest rushed into bed and finished their unrobing there, and the +old verger, as punctual as the clock, had put out the candle in another +minute, and toddled on to the next room, shutting their door with his +usual “Good-night, gen'lm'n.” + +There were many boys in the room by whom that little scene was taken to +heart before they slept. But sleep seemed to have deserted the pillow of +poor Tom. For some time his excitement, and the flood of memories +which chased one another through his brain, kept him from thinking or +resolving. His head throbbed, his heart leapt, and he could hardly keep +himself from springing out of bed and rushing about the room. Then the +thought of his own mother came across him, and the promise he had made +at her knee, years ago, never to forget to kneel by his bedside, and +give himself up to his Father, before he laid his head on the pillow, +from which it might never rise; and he lay down gently, and cried as if +his heart would break. He was only fourteen years old. + +It was no light act of courage in those days, my dear boys, for a little +fellow to say his prayers publicly, even at Rugby. A few years later, +when Arnold's manly piety had begun to leaven the School, the tables +turned; before he died, in the School-house at least, and I believe in +the other house, the rule was the other way. But poor Tom had come to +school in other times. The first few nights after he came he did not +kneel down because of the noise, but sat up in bed till the candle was +out, and then stole out and said his prayers, in fear lest some one +should find him out. So did many another poor little fellow. Then he +began to think that he might just as well say his prayers in bed, and +then that it didn't matter whether he was kneeling, or sitting, or lying +down. And so it had come to pass with Tom, as with all who will not +confess their Lord before men; and for the last year he had probably not +said his prayers in earnest a dozen times. + +Poor Tom! the first and bitterest feeling which was like to break his +heart was the sense of his own cowardice. The vice of all others which +he loathed was brought in and burnt in on his own soul. He had lied to +his mother, to his conscience, to his God. How could he bear it? And +then the poor little weak boy, whom he had pitied and almost scorned for +his weakness, had done that which he, braggart as he was, dared not do. +The first dawn of comfort came to him in swearing to himself that he +would stand by that boy through thick and thin, and cheer him, and help +him, and bear his burdens for the good deed done that night. Then he +resolved to write home next day and tell his mother all, and what a +coward her son had been. And then peace came to him as he resolved, +lastly, to bear his testimony next morning. The morning would be harder +than the night to begin with, but he felt that he could not afford to +let one chance slip. Several times he faltered, for the devil showed him +first all his old friends calling him “Saint” and “Square-toes,” and +a dozen hard names, and whispered to him that his motives would be +misunderstood, and he would only be left alone with the new boy; whereas +it was his duty to keep all means of influence, that he might do good to +the largest number. And then came the more subtle temptation, “Shall I +not be showing myself braver than others by doing this? Have I any right +to begin it now? Ought I not rather to pray in my own study, letting +other boys know that I do so, and trying to lead them to it, while in +public at least I should go on as I have done?” However, his good angel +was too strong that night, and he turned on his side and slept, tired of +trying to reason, but resolved to follow the impulse which had been so +strong, and in which he had found peace. + +Next morning he was up and washed and dressed, all but his jacket and +waistcoat, just as the ten minutes' bell began to ring, and then in +the face of the whole room knelt down to pray. Not five words could +he say--the bell mocked him; he was listening for every whisper in +the room--what were they all thinking of him? He was ashamed to go on +kneeling, ashamed to rise from his knees. At last, as it were from his +inmost heart, a still, small voice seemed to breathe forth the words of +the publican, “God be merciful to me a sinner!” He repeated them over +and over, clinging to them as for his life, and rose from his knees +comforted and humbled, and ready to face the whole world. It was not +needed: two other boys besides Arthur had already followed his example, +and he went down to the great School with a glimmering of another lesson +in his heart--the lesson that he who has conquered his own coward spirit +has conquered the whole outward world; and that other one which the old +prophet learnt in the cave in Mount Horeb, when he hid his face, and the +still, small voice asked, “What doest thou here, Elijah?” that however +we may fancy ourselves alone on the side of good, the King and Lord +of men is nowhere without His witnesses; for in every society, however +seemingly corrupt and godless, there are those who have not bowed the +knee to Baal. + +He found, too, how greatly he had exaggerated the effect to be produced +by his act. For a few nights there was a sneer or a laugh when he knelt +down, but this passed off soon, and one by one all the other boys but +three or four followed the lead. I fear that this was in some measure +owing to the fact that Tom could probably have thrashed any boy in the +room except the praepostor; at any rate, every boy knew that he would +try upon very slight provocation, and didn't choose to run the risk of a +hard fight because Tom Brown had taken a fancy to say his prayers. Some +of the small boys of Number 4 communicated the new state of things to +their chums, and in several other rooms the poor little fellows tried +it on--in one instance or so, where the praepostor heard of it and +interfered very decidedly, with partial success; but in the rest, after +a short struggle, the confessors were bullied or laughed down, and the +old state of things went on for some time longer. Before either Tom +Brown or Arthur left the School-house, there was no room in which it had +not become the regular custom. I trust it is so still, and that the old +heathen state of things has gone out for ever. + + + +CHAPTER II--THE NEW BOY. + + “And Heaven's rich instincts in him grew + As effortless as woodland nooks + Send violets up and paint them blue.”--LOWELL. + +I do not mean to recount all the little troubles and annoyances which +thronged upon Tom at the beginning of this half-year, in his new +character of bear-leader to a gentle little boy straight from home. He +seemed to himself to have become a new boy again, without any of the +long-suffering and meekness indispensable for supporting that character +with moderate success. From morning till night he had the feeling of +responsibility on his mind, and even if he left Arthur in their study +or in the close for an hour, was never at ease till he had him in sight +again. He waited for him at the doors of the school after every lesson +and every calling-over; watched that no tricks were played him, and none +but the regulation questions asked; kept his eye on his plate at dinner +and breakfast, to see that no unfair depredations were made upon his +viands; in short, as East remarked, cackled after him like a hen with +one chick. + +Arthur took a long time thawing, too, which made it all the harder work; +was sadly timid; scarcely ever spoke unless Tom spoke to him first; and, +worst of all, would agree with him in everything--the hardest thing in +the world for a Brown to bear. He got quite angry sometimes, as they +sat together of a night in their study, at this provoking habit of +agreement, and was on the point of breaking out a dozen times with a +lecture upon the propriety of a fellow having a will of his own and +speaking out, but managed to restrain himself by the thought that he +might only frighten Arthur, and the remembrance of the lesson he had +learnt from him on his first night at Number 4. Then he would resolve to +sit still and not say a word till Arthur began; but he was always beat +at that game, and had presently to begin talking in despair, fearing +lest Arthur might think he was vexed at something if he didn't, and +dog-tired of sitting tongue-tied. + +It was hard work. But Tom had taken it up, and meant to stick to it, and +go through with it so as to satisfy himself; in which resolution he +was much assisted by the chafing of East and his other old friends, who +began to call him “dry-nurse,” and otherwise to break their small wit +on him. But when they took other ground, as they did every now and then, +Tom was sorely puzzled. + +“Tell you what, Tommy,” East would say; “you'll spoil young Hopeful with +too much coddling. Why can't you let him go about by himself and find +his own level? He'll never be worth a button if you go on keeping him +under your skirts.” + +“Well, but he ain't fit to fight his own way yet; I'm trying to get him +to it every day, but he's very odd. Poor little beggar! I can't make him +out a bit. He ain't a bit like anything I've ever seen or heard of--he +seems all over nerves; anything you say seems to hurt him like a cut or +a blow.” + +“That sort of boy's no use here,” said East; “he'll only spoil. Now I'll +tell you what to do, Tommy. Go and get a nice large band-box made, and +put him in with plenty of cotton-wool and a pap-bottle, labelled 'With +care--this side up,' and send him back to mamma.” + +“I think I shall make a hand of him though,” said Tom, smiling, “say +what you will. There's something about him, every now and then, which +shows me he's got pluck somewhere in him. That's the only thing after +all that'll wash, ain't it, old Scud? But how to get at it and bring it +out?” + +Tom took one hand out of his breeches-pocket and stuck it in his back +hair for a scratch, giving his hat a tilt over his nose, his one method +of invoking wisdom. He stared at the ground with a ludicrously puzzled +look, and presently looked up and met East's eyes. That young gentleman +slapped him on the back, and then put his arm round his shoulder, as +they strolled through the quadrangle together. “Tom,” said he, “blest if +you ain't the best old fellow ever was. I do like to see you go into a +thing. Hang it, I wish I could take things as you do; but I never +can get higher than a joke. Everything's a joke. If I was going to be +flogged next minute, I should be in a blue funk, but I couldn't help +laughing at it for the life of me.” + +“Brown and East, you go and fag for Jones on the great fives court.” + +“Hullo, though, that's past a joke,” broke out East, springing at +the young gentleman who addressed them, and catching him by the +collar.--“Here, Tommy, catch hold of him t'other side before he can +holla.” + +The youth was seized, and dragged, struggling, out of the quadrangle +into the School-house hall. He was one of the miserable little pretty +white-handed, curly-headed boys, petted and pampered by some of the big +fellows, who wrote their verses for them, taught them to drink and use +bad language, and did all they could to spoil them for everything * +in this world and the next. One of the avocations in which these young +gentlemen took particular delight was in going about and getting fags +for their protectors, when those heroes were playing any game. They +carried about pencil and paper with them, putting down the names of all +the boys they sent, always sending five times as many as were wanted, +and getting all those thrashed who didn't go. The present youth belonged +to a house which was very jealous of the School-house, and always picked +out School-house fags when he could find them. However, this time he'd +got the wrong sow by the ear. His captors slammed the great door of the +hall, and East put his back against it, while Tom gave the prisoner a +shake up, took away his list, and stood him up on the floor, while he +proceeded leisurely to examine that document. + + * A kind and wise critic, an old Rugboean, notes here in the + margin: “The small friend system was not so utterly bad from + 1841-1847.” Before that, too, there were many noble + friendships between big and little boys; but I can't strike + out the passage. Many boys will know why it is left in. + +“Let me out, let me go!” screamed the boy, in a furious passion. “I'll +go and tell Jones this minute, and he'll give you both the --- thrashing +you ever had.” + +“Pretty little dear,” said East, patting the top of his hat.--“Hark how +he swears, Tom. Nicely brought up young man, ain't he, I don't think.” + +“Let me alone, --- you,” roared the boy, foaming with rage, and kicking +at East, who quietly tripped him up, and deposited him on the floor in a +place of safety. + +“Gently, young fellow,” said he; “'tain't improving for little +whippersnappers like you to be indulging in blasphemy; so you stop that, +or you'll get something you won't like.” + +“I'll have you both licked when I get out, that I will,” rejoined the +boy, beginning to snivel. + +“Two can play at that game, mind you,” said Tom, who had finished his +examination of the list. “Now you just listen here. We've just come +across the fives court, and Jones has four fags there already--two +more than he wants. If he'd wanted us to change, he'd have stopped us +himself. And here, you little blackguard, you've got seven names down on +your list besides ours, and five of them School-house.” Tom walked up to +him, and jerked him on to his legs; he was by this time whining like a +whipped puppy. “Now just listen to me. We ain't going to fag for +Jones. If you tell him you've sent us, we'll each of us give you such +a thrashing as you'll remember.” And Tom tore up the list and threw the +pieces into the fire. + +“And mind you, too,” said East, “don't let me catch you again sneaking +about the School-house, and picking up our fags. You haven't got the +sort of hide to take a sound licking kindly.” And he opened the door and +sent the young gentleman flying into the quadrangle with a parting kick. + +“Nice boy, Tommy,” said East, shoving his hands in his pockets, and +strolling to the fire. + +“Worst sort we breed,” responded Tom, following his example. “Thank +goodness, no big fellow ever took to petting me.” + +“You'd never have been like that,” said East. “I should like to have put +him in a museum: Christian young gentleman, nineteenth century, highly +educated. Stir him up with a long pole, Jack, and hear him swear like a +drunken sailor. He'd make a respectable public open its eyes, I think.” + +“Think he'll tell Jones?” said Tom. + +“No,” said East. “Don't care if he does.” + +“Nor I,” said Tom. And they went back to talk about Arthur. + +The young gentleman had brains enough not to tell Jones, reasoning +that East and Brown, who were noted as some of the toughest fags in +the School, wouldn't care three straws for any licking Jones might give +them, and would be likely to keep their words as to passing it on with +interest. + +After the above conversation, East came a good deal to their study, and +took notice of Arthur, and soon allowed to Tom that he was a thorough +little gentleman, and would get over his shyness all in good time; which +much comforted our hero. He felt every day, too, the value of having an +object in his life--something that drew him out of himself; and it being +the dull time of the year, and no games going about for which he much +cared, was happier than he had ever yet been at school, which was saying +a great deal. + +The time which Tom allowed himself away from his charge was from +locking-up till supper-time. During this hour or hour and a half he used +to take his fling, going round to the studies of all his acquaintance, +sparring or gossiping in the hall, now jumping the old iron-bound +tables, or carving a bit of his name on them, then joining in some +chorus of merry voices--in fact, blowing off his steam, as we should now +call it. + +This process was so congenial to his temper, and Arthur showed himself +so pleased at the arrangement, that it was several weeks before Tom was +ever in their study before supper. One evening, however, he rushed in to +look for an old chisel, or some corks, or other article essential to his +pursuit for the time being, and while rummaging about in the cupboards, +looked up for a moment, and was caught at once by the figure of poor +little Arthur. The boy was sitting with his elbows on the table, and +his head leaning on his hands, and before him an open book, on which his +tears were falling fast. Tom shut the door at once, and sat down on the +sofa by Arthur, putting his arm round his neck. + +“Why, young un, what's the matter?” said he kindly; “you ain't unhappy, +are you?” + +“Oh no, Brown,” said the little boy, looking up with the great tears in +his eyes; “you are so kind to me, I'm very happy.” + +“Why don't you call me Tom? Lots of boys do that I don't like half so +much as you. What are you reading, then? Hang it! you must come about +with me, and not mope yourself.” And Tom cast down his eyes on the book, +and saw it was the Bible. He was silent for a minute, and thought to +himself, “Lesson Number 2, Tom Brown;” and then said gently, “I'm very +glad to see this, Arthur, and ashamed that I don't read the Bible more +myself. Do you read it every night before supper while I'm out?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, I wish you'd wait till afterwards, and then we'd read together. +But, Arthur, why does it make you cry?” + +“Oh, it isn't that I'm unhappy. But at home, while my father was alive, +we always read the lessons after tea; and I love to read them over now, +and try to remember what he said about them. I can't remember all and I +think I scarcely understand a great deal of what I do remember. But +it all comes back to me so fresh that I can't help crying sometimes to +think I shall never read them again with him.” + +Arthur had never spoken of his home before, and Tom hadn't encouraged +him to do so, as his blundering schoolboy reasoning made him think that +Arthur would be softened and less manly for thinking of home. But now +he was fairly interested, and forgot all about chisels and bottled +beer; while with very little encouragement Arthur launched into his home +history, and the prayer-bell put them both out sadly when it rang to +call them to the hall. + +From this time Arthur constantly spoke of his home, and above all, of +his father, who had been dead about a year, and whose memory Tom soon +got to love and reverence almost as much as his own son did. + +Arthur's father had been the clergyman of a parish in the Midland +counties, which had risen into a large town during the war, and upon +which the hard years which followed had fallen with fearful weight. The +trade had been half ruined; and then came the old, sad story, of masters +reducing their establishments, men turned off and wandering about, +hungry and wan in body, and fierce in soul, from the thought of wives +and children starving at home, and the last sticks of furniture going to +the pawnshop; children taken from school, and lounging about the dirty +streets and courts, too listless almost to play, and squalid in rags +and misery; and then the fearful struggle between the employers and +men--lowerings of wages, strikes, and the long course of oft-repeated +crime, ending every now and then with a riot, a fire, and the county +yeomanry. There is no need here to dwell upon such tales: the Englishman +into whose soul they have not sunk deep is not worthy the name. You +English boys, for whom this book is meant (God bless your bright faces +and kind hearts!), will learn it all soon enough. + +Into such a parish and state of society Arthur's father had been thrown +at the age of twenty-five--a young married parson, full of faith, +hope, and love. He had battled with it like a man, and had lots of fine +Utopian ideas about the perfectibility of mankind, glorious humanity, +and such-like, knocked out of his head, and a real, wholesome Christian +love for the poor, struggling, sinning men, of whom he felt himself one, +and with and for whom he spent fortune, and strength, and life, driven +into his heart. He had battled like a man, and gotten a man's reward--no +silver tea-pots or salvers, with flowery inscriptions setting forth +his virtues and the appreciation of a genteel parish; no fat living or +stall, for which he never looked, and didn't care; no sighs and praises +of comfortable dowagers and well-got-up young women, who worked him +slippers, sugared his tea, and adored him as “a devoted man;” but a +manly respect, wrung from the unwilling souls of men who fancied his +order their natural enemies; the fear and hatred of every one who was +false or unjust in the district, were he master or man; and the blessed +sight of women and children daily becoming more human and more homely, a +comfort to themselves and to their husbands and fathers. + +These things, of course, took time, and had to be fought for with toil +and sweat of brain and heart, and with the life-blood poured out. All +that, Arthur had laid his account to give, and took as a matter of +course, neither pitying himself, nor looking on himself as a martyr, +when he felt the wear and tear making him feel old before his time, and +the stifling air of fever-dens telling on his health. His wife seconded +him in everything. She had been rather fond of society, and much admired +and run after before her marriage; and the London world to which she had +belonged pitied poor Fanny Evelyn when she married the young clergyman, +and went to settle in that smoky hole Turley; a very nest of Chartism +and Atheism, in a part of the country which all the decent families had +had to leave for years. However, somehow or other she didn't seem to +care. If her husband's living had been amongst green fields and near +pleasant neighbours she would have liked it better--that she never +pretended to deny. But there they were. The air wasn't bad, after all; +the people were very good sort of people--civil to you if you were civil +to them, after the first brush; and they didn't expect to work miracles, +and convert them all off-hand into model Christians. So he and she went +quietly among the folk, talking to and treating them just as they would +have done people of their own rank. They didn't feel that they were +doing anything out of the common way, and so were perfectly natural, +and had none of that condescension or consciousness of manner which so +outrages the independent poor. And thus they gradually won respect and +confidence; and after sixteen years he was looked up to by the whole +neighbourhood as the just man, the man to whom masters and men could +go in their strikes, and in all their quarrels and difficulties, and by +whom the right and true word would be said without fear or favour. And +the women had come round to take her advice, and go to her as a friend +in all their troubles; while the children all worshipped the very ground +she trod on. + +They had three children, two daughters and a son, little Arthur, who +came between his sisters. He had been a very delicate boy from his +childhood; they thought he had a tendency to consumption, and so he had +been kept at home and taught by his father, who had made a companion of +him, and from whom he had gained good scholarship, and a knowledge of +and interest in many subjects which boys in general never come across +till they are many years older. + +Just as he reached his thirteenth year, and his father had settled that +he was strong enough to go to school, and, after much debating with +himself, had resolved to send him there, a desperate typhus fever broke +out in the town. Most of the other clergy, and almost all the doctors, +ran away; the work fell with tenfold weight on those who stood to their +work. Arthur and his wife both caught the fever, of which he died in a +few days; and she recovered, having been able to nurse him to the end, +and store up his last words. He was sensible to the last, and calm and +happy, leaving his wife and children with fearless trust for a few years +in the hands of the Lord and Friend who had lived and died for him, and +for whom he, to the best of his power, had lived and died. His widow's +mourning was deep and gentle. She was more affected by the request of +the committee of a freethinking club, established in the town by some of +the factory hands (which he had striven against with might and main, and +nearly suppressed), that some of their number might be allowed to help +bear the coffin, than by anything else. Two of them were chosen, who, +with six other labouring men, his own fellow-workmen and friends, bore +him to his grave--a man who had fought the Lord's fight even unto the +death. The shops were closed and the factories shut that day in the +parish, yet no master stopped the day's wages; but for many a year +afterwards the townsfolk felt the want of that brave, hopeful, loving +parson and his wife, who had lived to teach them mutual forbearance and +helpfulness, and had almost at last given them a glimpse of what this +old world would be if people would live for God and each other instead +of for themselves. + +What has all this to do with our story? Well, my dear boys, let a fellow +go on his own way, or you won't get anything out of him worth having. +I must show you what sort of a man it was who had begotten and trained +little Arthur, or else you won't believe in him, which I am resolved you +shall do; and you won't see how he, the timid, weak boy, had points in +him from which the bravest and strongest recoiled, and made his presence +and example felt from the first on all sides, unconsciously to himself, +and without the least attempt at proselytizing. The spirit of his father +was in him, and the Friend to whom his father had left him did not +neglect the trust. + +After supper that night, and almost nightly for years afterwards, +Tom and Arthur, and by degrees East occasionally, and sometimes one, +sometimes another, of their friends, read a chapter of the Bible +together, and talked it over afterwards. Tom was at first utterly +astonished, and almost shocked, at the sort of way in which Arthur read +the book and talked about the men and women whose lives were there told. +The first night they happened to fall on the chapters about the famine +in Egypt, and Arthur began talking about Joseph as if he were a living +statesman--just as he might have talked about Lord Grey and the Reform +Bill, only that they were much more living realities to him. The book +was to him, Tom saw, the most vivid and delightful history of real +people, who might do right or wrong, just like any one who was walking +about in Rugby--the Doctor, or the masters, or the sixth-form boys. But +the astonishment soon passed off, the scales seemed to drop from his +eyes, and the book became at once and for ever to him the great human +and divine book, and the men and women, whom he had looked upon +as something quite different from himself, became his friends and +counsellors. + +For our purposes, however, the history of one night's reading will be +sufficient, which must be told here, now we are on the subject, though +it didn't happen till a year afterwards, and long after the events +recorded in the next chapter of our story. + +Arthur, Tom, and East were together one night, and read the story of +Naaman coming to Elisha to be cured of his leprosy. When the chapter was +finished, Tom shut his Bible with a slap. + +“I can't stand that fellow Naaman,” said he, “after what he'd seen and +felt, going back and bowing himself down in the house of Rimmon, because +his effeminate scoundrel of a master did it. I wonder Elisha took the +trouble to heal him. How he must have despised him!” + +“Yes; there you go off as usual, with a shell on your head,” struck +in East, who always took the opposite side to Tom, half from love of +argument, half from conviction. “How do you know he didn't think better +of it? How do you know his master was a scoundrel? His letter don't look +like it, and the book don't say so.” + +“I don't care,” rejoined Tom; “why did Naaman talk about bowing down, +then, if he didn't mean to do it? He wasn't likely to get more in +earnest when he got back to court, and away from the prophet.” + +“Well, but, Tom,” said Arthur, “look what Elisha says to him--'Go in +peace.' He wouldn't have said that if Naaman had been in the wrong.” + +“I don't see that that means more than saying, 'You're not the man I +took you for.'” + +“No, no; that won't do at all,” said East. “Read the words fairly, and +take men as you find them. I like Naaman, and think he was a very fine +fellow.” + +“I don't,” said Tom positively. + +“Well, I think East is right,” said Arthur; “I can't see but what it's +right to do the best you can, though it mayn't be the best absolutely. +Every man isn't born to be a martyr.” + +“Of course, of course,” said East; “but he's on one of his pet +hobbies.--How often have I told you, Tom, that you must drive a nail +where it'll go.” + +“And how often have I told you,” rejoined Tom, “that it'll always go +where you want, if you only stick to it and hit hard enough. I hate +half-measures and compromises.” + +“Yes, he's a whole-hog man, is Tom. Must have the whole animal-hair and +teeth, claws and tail,” laughed East. “Sooner have no bread any day than +half the loaf.” + +“I don't know;” said Arthur--“it's rather puzzling; but ain't most right +things got by proper compromises--I mean where the principle isn't given +up?” + +“That's just the point,” said Tom; “I don't object to a compromise, +where you don't give up your principle.” + +“Not you,” said East laughingly.--“I know him of old, Arthur, and you'll +find him out some day. There isn't such a reasonable fellow in the +world, to hear him talk. He never wants anything but what's right +and fair; only when you come to settle what's right and fair, it's +everything that he wants, and nothing that you want. And that's his idea +of a compromise. Give me the Brown compromise when I'm on his side.” + +“Now, Harry,” said Tom, “no more chaff. I'm serious. Look here. This is +what makes my blood tingle.” And he turned over the pages of his Bible +and read, “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego answered and said to the +king, O Nebuchadnezzar, we are not careful to answer thee in this +matter. If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from +the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O +king. But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve +thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up.” He read +the last verse twice, emphasizing the nots, and dwelling on them as if +they gave him actual pleasure, and were hard to part with. + +They were silent a minute, and then Arthur said, “Yes, that's a glorious +story, but it don't prove your point, Tom, I think. There are times when +there is only one way, and that the highest, and then the men are found +to stand in the breach.” + +“There's always a highest way, and it's always the right one,” said Tom. +“How many times has the Doctor told us that in his sermons in the last +year, I should like to know?” + +“Well, you ain't going to convince us--is he, Arthur? No Brown +compromise to-night,” said East, looking at his watch. “But it's past +eight, and we must go to first lesson. What a bore!” + +So they took down their books and fell to work; but Arthur didn't +forget, and thought long and often over the conversation. + + + +CHAPTER III--ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND. + + “Let Nature be your teacher: + Sweet is the lore which Nature brings. + Our meddling intellect + Misshapes the beauteous forms of things. + We murder to dissect. + Enough of Science and of Art: + Close up those barren leaves; + Come forth, and bring with you a heart + That watches and receives.”--WORDSWORTH. + +About six weeks after the beginning of the half, as Tom and Arthur were +sitting one night before supper beginning their verses, Arthur suddenly +stopped, and looked up, and said, “Tom, do you know anything of Martin?” + +“Yes,” said Tom, taking his hand out of his back hair, and delighted to +throw his Gradus ad Parnassum on to the sofa; “I know him pretty well. +He's a very good fellow, but as mad as a hatter. He's called Madman, you +know. And never was such a fellow for getting all sorts of rum things +about him. He tamed two snakes last half, and used to carry them about +in his pocket; and I'll be bound he's got some hedgehogs and rats in his +cupboard now, and no one knows what besides.” + +“I should like very much to know him,” said Arthur; “he was next to me +in the form to-day, and he'd lost his book and looked over mine, and he +seemed so kind and gentle that I liked him very much.” + +“Ah, poor old Madman, he's always losing his books,” said Tom, “and +getting called up and floored because he hasn't got them.” + +“I like him all the better,” said Arthur. + +“Well, he's great fun, I can tell you,” said Tom, throwing himself back +on the sofa, and chuckling at the remembrance. “We had such a game with +him one day last half. He had been kicking up horrid stinks for some +time in his study, till I suppose some fellow told Mary, and she told +the Doctor. Anyhow, one day a little before dinner, when he came down +from the library, the Doctor, instead of going home, came striding into +the hall. East and I and five or six other fellows were at the fire, and +preciously we stared, for he don't come in like that once a year, unless +it is a wet day and there's a fight in the hall. 'East,' says he, 'just +come and show me Martin's study.' 'Oh, here's a game,' whispered the +rest of us; and we all cut upstairs after the Doctor, East leading. As +we got into the New Row, which was hardly wide enough to hold the Doctor +and his gown, click, click, click, we heard in the old Madman's den. +Then that stopped all of a sudden, and the bolts went to like fun. The +Madman knew East's step, and thought there was going to be a siege. + +“'It's the Doctor, Martin. He's here and wants to see you,' sings out +East. + +“Then the bolts went back slowly, and the door opened, and there was +the old Madman standing, looking precious scared--his jacket off, his +shirt-sleeves up to his elbows, and his long skinny arms all covered +with anchors and arrows and letters, tattooed in with gunpowder like a +sailor-boy's, and a stink fit to knock you down coming out. 'Twas +all the Doctor could do to stand his ground, and East and I, who were +looking in under his arms, held our noses tight. The old magpie was +standing on the window-sill, all his feathers drooping, and looking +disgusted and half-poisoned. + +“'What can you be about, Martin?' says the Doctor. 'You really mustn't +go on in this way; you're a nuisance to the whole passage.' + +“'Please, sir, I was only mixing up this powder; there isn't any harm +in it. And the Madman seized nervously on his pestle and mortar, to +show the Doctor the harmlessness of his pursuits, and went on +pounding--click, click, click. He hadn't given six clicks before, puff! +up went the whole into a great blaze, away went the pestle and mortar +across the study, and back we tumbled into the passage. The magpie +fluttered down into the court, swearing, and the Madman danced out, +howling, with his fingers in his mouth. The Doctor caught hold of him, +and called to us to fetch some water. 'There, you silly fellow,' said +he, quite pleased, though, to find he wasn't much hurt, 'you see you +don't know the least what you're doing with all these things; and now, +mind, you must give up practising chemistry by yourself.' Then he took +hold of his arm and looked at it, and I saw he had to bite his lip, and +his eyes twinkled; but he said, quite grave, 'Here, you see, you've been +making all these foolish marks on yourself, which you can never get out, +and you'll be very sorry for it in a year or two. Now come down to the +housekeeper's room, and let us see if you are hurt.' And away went +the two, and we all stayed and had a regular turn-out of the den, till +Martin came back with his hand bandaged and turned us out. However, I'll +go and see what he's after, and tell him to come in after prayers to +supper.” And away went Tom to find the boy in question, who dwelt in a +little study by himself, in New Row. + +The aforesaid Martin, whom Arthur had taken such a fancy for, was one of +those unfortunates who were at that time of day (and are, I fear, still) +quite out of their places at a public school. If we knew how to use +our boys, Martin would have been seized upon and educated as a natural +philosopher. He had a passion for birds, beasts, and insects, and knew +more of them and their habits than any one in Rugby--except perhaps the +Doctor, who knew everything. He was also an experimental chemist on a +small scale, and had made unto himself an electric machine, from which +it was his greatest pleasure and glory to administer small shocks to any +small boys who were rash enough to venture into his study. And this +was by no means an adventure free from excitement; for besides the +probability of a snake dropping on to your head or twining lovingly up +your leg, or a rat getting into your breeches-pocket in search of food, +there was the animal and chemical odour to be faced, which always hung +about the den, and the chance of being blown up in some of the many +experiments which Martin was always trying, with the most wondrous +results in the shape of explosions and smells that mortal boy ever heard +of. Of course, poor Martin, in consequence of his pursuits, had become +an Ishmaelite in the house. In the first place, he half-poisoned all his +neighbours, and they in turn were always on the lookout to pounce upon +any of his numerous live-stock, and drive him frantic by enticing his +pet old magpie out of his window into a neighbouring study, and making +the disreputable old bird drunk on toast soaked in beer and sugar. Then +Martin, for his sins, inhabited a study looking into a small court some +ten feet across, the window of which was completely commanded by those +of the studies opposite in the Sick-room Row, these latter being at +a slightly higher elevation. East, and another boy of an equally +tormenting and ingenious turn of mind, now lived exactly opposite, and +had expended huge pains and time in the preparation of instruments of +annoyance for the behoof of Martin and his live colony. One morning +an old basket made its appearance, suspended by a short cord outside +Martin's window, in which were deposited an amateur nest containing four +young hungry jackdaws, the pride and glory of Martin's life, for the +time being, and which he was currently asserted to have hatched upon +his own person. Early in the morning and late at night he was to be +seen half out of window, administering to the varied wants of his callow +brood. After deep cogitation, East and his chum had spliced a knife on +to the end of a fishing-rod; and having watched Martin out, had, after +half an hour's severe sawing, cut the string by which the basket +was suspended, and tumbled it on to the pavement below, with hideous +remonstrance from the occupants. Poor Martin, returning from his short +absence, collected the fragments and replaced his brood (except one +whose neck had been broken in the descent) in their old location, +suspending them this time by string and wire twisted together, defiant +of any sharp instrument which his persecutors could command. But, like +the Russian engineers at Sebastopol, East and his chum had an answer for +every move of the adversary, and the next day had mounted a gun in the +shape of a pea-shooter upon the ledge of their window, trained so as to +bear exactly upon the spot which Martin had to occupy while tending his +nurslings. The moment he began to feed they began to shoot. In vain did +the enemy himself invest in a pea-shooter, and endeavour to answer the +fire while he fed the young birds with his other hand; his attention was +divided, and his shots flew wild, while every one of theirs told on his +face and hands, and drove him into howlings and imprecations. He +had been driven to ensconce the nest in a corner of his already +too-well-filled den. + +His door was barricaded by a set of ingenious bolts of his own +invention, for the sieges were frequent by the neighbours when any +unusually ambrosial odour spread itself from the den to the neighbouring +studies. The door panels were in a normal state of smash, but the frame +of the door resisted all besiegers, and behind it the owner carried on +his varied pursuits--much in the same state of mind, I should fancy, +as a border-farmer lived in, in the days of the moss-troopers, when his +hold might be summoned or his cattle carried off at any minute of night +or day. + +“Open, Martin, old boy; it's only I, Tom Brown.” + +“Oh, very well; stop a moment.” One bolt went back. “You're sure East +isn't there?” + +“No, no; hang it, open.” Tom gave a kick, the other bolt creaked, and he +entered the den. + +Den indeed it was--about five feet six inches long by five wide, and +seven feet high. About six tattered school-books, and a few chemical +books, Taxidermy, Stanley on Birds, and an odd volume of Bewick, the +latter in much better preservation, occupied the top shelves. The other +shelves, where they had not been cut away and used by the owner for +other purposes, were fitted up for the abiding-places of birds, beasts, +and reptiles. There was no attempt at carpet or curtain. The table was +entirely occupied by the great work of Martin, the electric machine, +which was covered carefully with the remains of his table-cloth. The +jackdaw cage occupied one wall; and the other was adorned by a small +hatchet, a pair of climbing irons, and his tin candle-box, in which he +was for the time being endeavouring to raise a hopeful young family of +field-mice. As nothing should be let to lie useless, it was well that +the candle-box was thus occupied, for candles Martin never had. A pound +was issued to him weekly, as to the other boys; but as candles were +available capital, and easily exchangeable for birds' eggs or young +birds, Martin's pound invariably found its way in a few hours to +Howlett's the bird-fancier's, in the Bilton road, who would give a +hawk's or nightingale's egg or young linnet in exchange. Martin's +ingenuity was therefore for ever on the rack to supply himself with +a light. Just now he had hit upon a grand invention, and the den was +lighted by a flaring cotton wick issuing from a ginger-beer bottle full +of some doleful composition. When light altogether failed him, Martin +would loaf about by the fires in the passages or hall, after the manner +of Diggs, and try to do his verses or learn his lines by the firelight. + +“Well, old boy, you haven't got any sweeter in the den this half. How +that stuff in the bottle stinks! Never mind; I ain't going to stop; but +you come up after prayers to our study. You know young Arthur. We've got +Gray's study. We'll have a good supper and talk about bird-nesting.” + +Martin was evidently highly pleased at the invitation, and promised to +be up without fail. + +As soon as prayers were over, and the sixth and fifth form boys had +withdrawn to the aristocratic seclusion of their own room, and the rest, +or democracy, had sat down to their supper in the hall, Tom and Arthur, +having secured their allowances of bread and cheese, started on their +feet to catch the eye of the praepostor of the week, who remained in +charge during supper, walking up and down the hall. He happened to be an +easy-going fellow, so they got a pleasant nod to their “Please may I go +out?” and away they scrambled to prepare for Martin a sumptuous banquet. +This Tom had insisted on, for he was in great delight on the occasion, +the reason of which delight must be expounded. The fact was that this +was the first attempt at a friendship of his own which Arthur had made, +and Tom hailed it as a grand step. The ease with which he himself became +hail-fellow-well-met with anybody, and blundered into and out of twenty +friendships a half-year, made him sometimes sorry and sometimes angry at +Arthur's reserve and loneliness. True, Arthur was always pleasant, and +even jolly, with any boys who came with Tom to their study; but Tom felt +that it was only through him, as it were, that his chum associated +with others, and that but for him Arthur would have been dwelling in +a wilderness. This increased his consciousness of responsibility; +and though he hadn't reasoned it out and made it clear to himself yet +somehow he knew that this responsibility, this trust which he had taken +on him without thinking about it, head over heels in fact, was the +centre and turning-point of his school-life, that which was to make him +or mar him, his appointed work and trial for the time being. And Tom +was becoming a new boy, though with frequent tumbles in the dirt and +perpetual hard battle with himself, and was daily growing in manfulness +and thoughtfulness, as every high-couraged and well-principled boy must, +when he finds himself for the first time consciously at grips with self +and the devil. Already he could turn almost without a sigh from the +School-gates, from which had just scampered off East and three or four +others of his own particular set, bound for some jolly lark not quite +according to law, and involving probably a row with louts, keepers, +or farm-labourers, the skipping dinner or calling-over, some of Phoebe +Jennings's beer, and a very possible flogging at the end of all as a +relish. He had quite got over the stage in which he would grumble to +himself--“Well, hang it, it's very hard of the Doctor to have saddled me +with Arthur. Why couldn't he have chummed him with Fogey, or Thomkin, or +any of the fellows who never do anything but walk round the close, and +finish their copies the first day they're set?” But although all this +was past, he longed, and felt that he was right in longing, for more +time for the legitimate pastimes of cricket, fives, bathing, and +fishing, within bounds, in which Arthur could not yet be his companion; +and he felt that when the “young un” (as he now generally called him) +had found a pursuit and some other friend for himself, he should be +able to give more time to the education of his own body with a clear +conscience. + +And now what he so wished for had come to pass; he almost hailed it as +a special providence (as indeed it was, but not for the reasons he +gave for it--what providences are?) that Arthur should have singled out +Martin of all fellows for a friend. “The old Madman is the very fellow,” + thought he; “he will take him scrambling over half the country after +birds' eggs and flowers, make him run and swim and climb like an Indian, +and not teach him a word of anything bad, or keep him from his lessons. +What luck!” And so, with more than his usual heartiness, he dived into +his cupboard, and hauled out an old knuckle-bone of ham, and two or +three bottles of beer, together with the solemn pewter only used on +state occasions; while Arthur, equally elated at the easy accomplishment +of his first act of volition in the joint establishment, produced from +his side a bottle of pickles and a pot of jam, and cleared the table. In +a minute or two the noise of the boys coming up from supper was heard, +and Martin knocked and was admitted, bearing his bread and cheese; and +the three fell to with hearty good-will upon the viands, talking faster +than they ate, for all shyness disappeared in a moment before Tom's +bottled-beer and hospitable ways. “Here's Arthur, a regular young +town-mouse, with a natural taste for the woods, Martin, longing to break +his neck climbing trees, and with a passion for young snakes.” + +“Well, I say,” sputtered out Martin eagerly, “will you come to-morrow, +both of you, to Caldecott's Spinney then? for I know of a kestrel's +nest, up a fir-tree. I can't get at it without help; and, Brown, you can +climb against any one.” + +“Oh yes, do let us go,” said Arthur; “I never saw a hawk's nest nor a +hawk's egg.” + +“You just come down to my study, then, and I'll show you five sorts,” + said Martin. + +“Ay, the old Madman has got the best collection in the house, out and +out,” said Tom; and then Martin, warming with unaccustomed good cheer +and the chance of a convert, launched out into a proposed bird-nesting +campaign, betraying all manner of important secrets--a golden-crested +wren's nest near Butlin's Mound, a moor-hen who was sitting on nine eggs +in a pond down the Barby road, and a kingfisher's nest in a corner of +the old canal above Brownsover Mill. He had heard, he said, that no +one had ever got a kingfisher's nest out perfect, and that the British +Museum, or the Government, or somebody, had offered 100 pounds to any +one who could bring them a nest and eggs not damaged. In the middle of +which astounding announcement, to which the others were listening with +open ears, and already considering the application of the 100 pounds, a +knock came to the door, and East's voice was heard craving admittance. + +“There's Harry,” said Tom; “we'll let him in. I'll keep him steady, +Martin. I thought the old boy would smell out the supper.” + +The fact was, that Tom's heart had already smitten him for not asking +his fidus Achates to the feast, although only an extempore affair; and +though prudence and the desire to get Martin and Arthur together alone +at first had overcome his scruples, he was now heartily glad to open the +door, broach another bottle of beer, and hand over the old ham-knuckle +to the searching of his old friend's pocket-knife. + +“Ah, you greedy vagabonds,” said East, with his mouth full, “I knew +there was something going on when I saw you cut off out of hall so +quick with your suppers. What a stunning tap, Tom! You are a wunner for +bottling the swipes.” + +“I've had practice enough for the sixth in my time, and it's hard if I +haven't picked up a wrinkle or two for my own benefit.” + +“Well, old Madman, and how goes the bird-nesting campaign? How's +Howlett? I expect the young rooks'll be out in another fortnight, and +then my turn comes.” + +“There'll be no young rooks fit for pies for a month yet; shows how much +you know about it,” rejoined Martin, who, though very good friends with +East, regarded him with considerable suspicion for his propensity to +practical jokes. + +“Scud knows nothing and cares for nothing but grub and mischief,” said +Tom; “but young rook pie, specially when you've had to climb for them, +is very pretty eating.--However, I say, Scud, we're all going after a +hawk's nest to-morrow, in Caldecott's Spinney; and if you'll come and +behave yourself, we'll have a stunning climb.” + +“And a bathe in Aganippe. Hooray! I'm your man.” + +“No, no; no bathing in Aganippe; that's where our betters go.” + +“Well, well, never mind. I'm for the hawk's nest, and anything that +turns up.” + +And the bottled-beer being finished, and his hunger appeased, East +departed to his study, “that sneak Jones,” as he informed them, who had +just got into the sixth, and occupied the next study, having instituted +a nightly visitation upon East and his chum, to their no small +discomfort. + +When he was gone Martin rose to follow, but Tom stopped him. “No one +goes near New Row,” said he, “so you may just as well stop here and do +your verses, and then we'll have some more talk. We'll be no end quiet. +Besides, no praepostor comes here now. We haven't been visited once this +half.” + +So the table was cleared, the cloth restored, and the three fell to work +with Gradus and dictionary upon the morning's vulgus. + +They were three very fair examples of the way in which such tasks were +done at Rugby, in the consulship of Plancus. And doubtless the method +is little changed, for there is nothing new under the sun, especially at +schools. + +Now be it known unto all you boys who are at schools which do not +rejoice in the time-honoured institution of the vulgus (commonly +supposed to have been established by William of Wykeham at Winchester, +and imported to Rugby by Arnold more for the sake of the lines which +were learnt by heart with it than for its own intrinsic value, as I've +always understood), that it is a short exercise in Greek or Latin verse, +on a given subject, the minimum number of lines being fixed for each +form. + +The master of the form gave out at fourth lesson on the previous day the +subject for next morning's vulgus, and at first lesson each boy had to +bring his vulgus ready to be looked over; and with the vulgus, a +certain number of lines from one of the Latin or Greek poets then being +construed in the form had to be got by heart. The master at first lesson +called up each boy in the form in order, and put him on in the lines. +If he couldn't say them, or seem to say them, by reading them off the +master's or some other boy's book who stood near, he was sent back, +and went below all the boys who did so say or seem to say them; but +in either case his vulgus was looked over by the master, who gave and +entered in his book, to the credit or discredit of the boy, so many +marks as the composition merited. At Rugby vulgus and lines were the +first lesson every other day in the week, on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and +Saturdays; and as there were thirty-eight weeks in the school year, it +is obvious to the meanest capacity that the master of each form had +to set one hundred and fourteen subjects every year, two hundred and +twenty-eight every two years, and so on. Now, to persons of moderate +invention this was a considerable task, and human nature being prone to +repeat itself, it will not be wondered that the masters gave the same +subjects sometimes over again after a certain lapse of time. To meet +and rebuke this bad habit of the masters, the schoolboy mind, with its +accustomed ingenuity, had invented an elaborate system of tradition. +Almost every boy kept his own vulgus written out in a book, and these +books were duly handed down from boy to boy, till (if the tradition has +gone on till now) I suppose the popular boys, in whose hands bequeathed +vulgus-books have accumulated, are prepared with three or four vulguses +on any subject in heaven or earth, or in “more worlds than one,” which +an unfortunate master can pitch upon. At any rate, such lucky fellows +had generally one for themselves and one for a friend in my time. The +only objection to the traditionary method of doing your vulguses was the +risk that the successions might have become confused, and so that you +and another follower of traditions should show up the same identical +vulgus some fine morning; in which case, when it happened, considerable +grief was the result. But when did such risk hinder boys or men from +short cuts and pleasant paths? + +Now in the study that night Tom was the upholder of the traditionary +method of vulgus doing. He carefully produced two large vulgus-books, +and began diving into them, and picking out a line here, and an ending +there (tags, as they were vulgarly called), till he had gotten all +that he thought he could make fit. He then proceeded to patch his tags +together with the help of his Gradus, producing an incongruous and +feeble result of eight elegiac lines, the minimum quantity for his form, +and finishing up with two highly moral lines extra, making ten in +all, which he cribbed entire from one of his books, beginning “O genus +humanum,” and which he himself must have used a dozen times before, +whenever an unfortunate or wicked hero, of whatever nation or language +under the sun, was the subject. Indeed he began to have great doubts +whether the master wouldn't remember them, and so only throw them in as +extra lines, because in any case they would call off attention from the +other tags, and if detected, being extra lines, he wouldn't be sent back +to do more in their place, while if they passed muster again he would +get marks for them. + +The second method, pursued by Martin, may be called the dogged or +prosaic method. He, no more than Tom, took any pleasure in the task, +but having no old vulgus-books of his own, or any one's else, could +not follow the traditionary method, for which too, as Tom remarked, he +hadn't the genius. Martin then proceeded to write down eight lines in +English, of the most matter-of-fact kind, the first that came into his +head; and to convert these, line by line, by main force of Gradus and +dictionary into Latin that would scan. This was all he cared for--to +produce eight lines with no false quantities or concords: whether the +words were apt, or what the sense was, mattered nothing; and as the +article was all new, not a line beyond the minimum did the followers of +the dogged method ever produce. + +The third, or artistic method, was Arthur's. He considered first what +point in the character or event which was the subject could most neatly +be brought out within the limits of a vulgus, trying always to get his +idea into the eight lines, but not binding himself to ten or even twelve +lines if he couldn't do this. He then set to work as much as possible +without Gradus or other help, to clothe his idea in appropriate Latin or +Greek, and would not be satisfied till he had polished it well up with +the aptest and most poetic words and phrases he could get at. + +A fourth method, indeed, was used in the school, but of too simple +a kind to require a comment. It may be called the vicarious method, +obtained amongst big boys of lazy or bullying habits, and consisted +simply in making clever boys whom they could thrash do their whole +vulgus for them, and construe it to them afterwards; which latter is a +method not to be encouraged, and which I strongly advise you all not +to practise. Of the others, you will find the traditionary most +troublesome, unless you can steal your vulguses whole (experto crede), +and that the artistic method pays the best both in marks and other ways. + +The vulguses being finished by nine o'clock, and Martin having rejoiced +above measure in the abundance of light, and of Gradus and dictionary, +and other conveniences almost unknown to him for getting through the +work, and having been pressed by Arthur to come and do his verses there +whenever he liked, the three boys went down to Martin's den, and Arthur +was initiated into the lore of birds' eggs, to his great delight. +The exquisite colouring and forms astonished and charmed him, who had +scarcely ever seen any but a hen's egg or an ostrich's, and by the time +he was lugged away to bed he had learned the names of at least twenty +sorts, and dreamed of the glorious perils of tree-climbing, and that he +had found a roc's egg in the island as big as Sinbad's, and clouded like +a tit-lark's, in blowing which Martin and he had nearly been drowned in +the yolk. + + + +CHAPTER IV--THE BIRD-FANCIERS. + + “I have found out a gift for my fair-- + I have found where the wood-pigeons breed; + But let me the plunder forbear, + She would say 'twas a barbarous deed.”--ROWE. + + “And now, my lad, take them five shilling, + And on my advice in future think; + So Billy pouched them all so willing, + And got that night disguised in drink.”--MS. Ballad. + +The next morning, at first lesson, Tom was turned back in his lines, +and so had to wait till the second round; while Martin and Arthur said +theirs all right, and got out of school at once. When Tom got out and +ran down to breakfast at Harrowell's they were missing, and Stumps +informed him that they had swallowed down their breakfasts and gone off +together--where, he couldn't say. Tom hurried over his own breakfast, +and went first to Martin's study and then to his own; but no signs of +the missing boys were to be found. He felt half angry and jealous of +Martin. Where could they be gone? + +He learnt second lesson with East and the rest in no very good temper, +and then went out into the quadrangle. About ten minutes before school +Martin and Arthur arrived in the quadrangle breathless; and catching +sight of him, Arthur rushed up, all excitement, and with a bright glow +on his face. + +“O Tom, look here!” cried he, holding out three moor-hen's eggs; “we've +been down the Barby road, to the pool Martin told us of last night, and +just see what we've got.” + +Tom wouldn't be pleased, and only looked out for something to find fault +with. + +“Why, young un,” said he, “what have you been after? You don't mean to +say you've been wading?” + +The tone of reproach made poor little Arthur shrink up in a moment and +look piteous; and Tom with a shrug of his shoulders turned his anger on +Martin. + +“Well, I didn't think, Madman, that you'd have been such a muff as to +let him be getting wet through at this time of day. You might have done +the wading yourself.” + +“So I did, of course; only he would come in too, to see the nest. We +left six eggs in. They'll be hatched in a day or two.” + +“Hang the eggs!” said Tom; “a fellow can't turn his back for a moment +but all his work's undone. He'll be laid up for a week for this precious +lark, I'll be bound.” + +“Indeed, Tom, now,” pleaded Arthur, “my feet ain't wet, for Martin made +me take off my shoes and stockings and trousers.” + +“But they are wet, and dirty too; can't I see?” answered Tom; “and +you'll be called up and floored when the master sees what a state you're +in. You haven't looked at second lesson, you know.” + +O Tom, you old humbug! you to be upbraiding any one with not learning +their lessons! If you hadn't been floored yourself now at first lesson, +do you mean to say you wouldn't have been with them? And you've taken +away all poor little Arthur's joy and pride in his first birds' eggs, +and he goes and puts them down in the study, and takes down his books +with a sigh, thinking he has done something horribly wrong, whereas he +has learnt on in advance much more than will be done at second lesson. + +But the old Madman hasn't, and gets called up, and makes some frightful +shots, losing about ten places, and all but getting floored. This +somewhat appeases Tom's wrath, and by the end of the lesson he has +regained his temper. And afterwards in their study he begins to get +right again, as he watches Arthur's intense joy at seeing Martin blowing +the eggs and gluing them carefully on to bits of cardboard, and notes +the anxious, loving looks which the little fellow casts sidelong at him. +And then he thinks, “What an ill-tempered beast I am! Here's just what I +was wishing for last night come about, and I'm spoiling it all,” and in +another five minutes has swallowed the last mouthful of his bile, and is +repaid by seeing his little sensitive plant expand again and sun itself +in his smiles. + +After dinner the Madman is busy with the preparations for their +expedition, fitting new straps on to his climbing-irons, filling large +pill-boxes with cotton-wool, and sharpening East's small axe. They carry +all their munitions into calling-overs and directly afterwards, having +dodged such praepostors as are on the lookout for fags at cricket, the +four set off at a smart trot down the Lawford footpath, straight for +Caldecott's Spinney and the hawk's nest. + +Martin leads the way in high feather; it is quite a new sensation to +him, getting companions, and he finds it very pleasant, and means to +show them all manner of proofs of his science and skill. Brown and East +may be better at cricket and football and games, thinks he, but out in +the fields and woods see if I can't teach them something. He has +taken the leadership already, and strides away in front with his +climbing-irons strapped under one arm, his pecking-bag under the other, +and his pockets and hat full of pill-boxes, cotton-wool, and other +etceteras. Each of the others carries a pecking-bag, and East his +hatchet. + +When they had crossed three or four fields without a check, Arthur began +to lag; and Tom seeing this shouted to Martin to pull up a bit. “We +ain't out hare-and-hounds. What's the good of grinding on at this rate?” + +“There's the Spinney,” said Martin, pulling up on the brow of a slope +at the bottom of which lay Lawford brook, and pointing to the top of the +opposite slope; “the nest is in one of those high fir-trees at this end. +And down by the brook there I know of a sedge-bird's nest. We'll go and +look at it coming back.” + +“Oh, come on, don't let us stop,” said Arthur, who was getting excited +at the sight of the wood. So they broke into a trot again, and were soon +across the brook, up the slope, and into the Spinney. Here they advanced +as noiselessly as possible, lest keepers or other enemies should be +about, and stopped at the foot of a tall fir, at the top of which Martin +pointed out with pride the kestrel's nest, the object of their quest. + +“Oh, where? which is it?” asks Arthur, gaping up in the air, and having +the most vague idea of what it would be like. + +“There, don't you see?” said East, pointing to a lump of mistletoe in +the next tree, which was a beech. He saw that Martin and Tom were busy +with the climbing-irons, and couldn't resist the temptation of hoaxing. +Arthur stared and wondered more than ever. + +“Well, how curious! It doesn't look a bit like what I expected,” said +he. + +“Very odd birds, kestrels,” said East, looking waggishly at his victim, +who was still star-gazing. + +“But I thought it was in a fir-tree?” objected Arthur. + +“Ah, don't you know? That's a new sort of fir which old Caldecott +brought from the Himalayas.” + +“Really!” said Arthur; “I'm glad I know that. How unlike our firs they +are! They do very well too here, don't they? The Spinney's full of +them.” + +“What's that humbug he's telling you?” cried Tom, looking up, having +caught the word Himalayas, and suspecting what East was after. + +“Only about this fir,” said Arthur, putting his hand on the stem of the +beech. + +“Fir!” shouted Tom; “why, you don't mean to say, young un, you don't +know a beech when you see one?” + +Poor little Arthur looked terribly ashamed, and East exploded in +laughter which made the wood ring. + +“I've hardly ever seen any trees,” faltered Arthur. + +“What a shame to hoax him, Scud!” cried Martin.--“Never mind, Arthur; +you shall know more about trees than he does in a week or two.” + +“And isn't that the kestrel's nest, then?” asked Arthur. “That! Why, +that's a piece of mistletoe. There's the nest, that lump of sticks up +this fir.” + +“Don't believe him, Arthur,” struck in the incorrigible East; “I just +saw an old magpie go out of it.” + +Martin did not deign to reply to this sally, except by a grunt, as +he buckled the last buckle of his climbing-irons, and Arthur looked +reproachfully at East without speaking. + +But now came the tug of war. It was a very difficult tree to climb until +the branches were reached, the first of which was some fourteen feet +up, for the trunk was too large at the bottom to be swarmed; in fact, +neither of the boys could reach more than half round it with their arms. +Martin and Tom, both of whom had irons on, tried it without success at +first; the fir bark broke away where they stuck the irons in as soon as +they leant any weight on their feet, and the grip of their arms wasn't +enough to keep them up; so, after getting up three or four feet, down +they came slithering to the ground, barking their arms and faces. They +were furious, and East sat by laughing and shouting at each failure, +“Two to one on the old magpie!” + +“We must try a pyramid,” said Tom at last. “Now, Scud, you lazy rascal, +stick yourself against the tree!” + +“I dare say! and have you standing on my shoulders with the irons on. +What do you think my skin's made of?” However, up he got, and leant +against the tree, putting his head down and clasping it with his arms as +far as he could. + +“Now then, Madman,” said Tom, “you next.” + +“No, I'm lighter than you; you go next.” So Tom got on East's shoulders, +and grasped the tree above, and then Martin scrambled up on to Tom's +shoulders, amidst the totterings and groanings of the pyramid, and, with +a spring which sent his supporters howling to the ground, clasped the +stem some ten feet up, and remained clinging. For a moment or two they +thought he couldn't get up; but then, holding on with arms and teeth, he +worked first one iron then the other firmly into the bark, got another +grip with his arms, and in another minute had hold of the lowest branch. + +“All up with the old magpie now,” said East; and after a minute's +rest, up went Martin, hand over hand, watched by Arthur with fearful +eagerness. + +“Isn't it very dangerous?” said he. + +“Not a bit,” answered Tom; “you can't hurt if you only get good +hand-hold. Try every branch with a good pull before you trust it, and +then up you go.” + +Martin was now amongst the small branches close to the nest, and +away dashed the old bird, and soared up above the trees, watching the +intruder. + +“All right--four eggs!” shouted he. + +“Take 'em all!” shouted East; “that'll be one a-piece.” + +“No, no; leave one, and then she won't care,” said Tom. + +We boys had an idea that birds couldn't count, and were quite content as +long as you left one egg. I hope it is so. + +Martin carefully put one egg into each of his boxes and the third +into his mouth, the only other place of safety, and came down like a +lamplighter. All went well till he was within ten feet of the ground, +when, as the trunk enlarged, his hold got less and less firm, and at +last down he came with a run, tumbling on to his back on the turf, +spluttering and spitting out the remains of the great egg, which had +broken by the jar of his fall. + +“Ugh, ugh! something to drink--ugh! it was addled,” spluttered he, while +the wood rang again with the merry laughter of East and Tom. + +Then they examined the prizes, gathered up their things, and went off to +the brook, where Martin swallowed huge draughts of water to get rid +of the taste; and they visited the sedge-bird's nest, and from thence +struck across the country in high glee, beating the hedges and brakes as +they went along; and Arthur at last, to his intense delight, was allowed +to climb a small hedgerow oak for a magpie's nest with Tom, who kept all +round him like a mother, and showed him where to hold and how to throw +his weight; and though he was in a great fright, didn't show it, and was +applauded by all for his lissomness. + +They crossed a road soon afterwards, and there, close to them, lay a +great heap of charming pebbles. + +“Look here,” shouted East; “here's luck! I've been longing for some +good, honest pecking this half-hour. Let's fill the bags, and have no +more of this foozling bird-nesting.” + +No one objected, so each boy filled the fustian bag he carried full of +stones. They crossed into the next field, Tom and East taking one side +of the hedges, and the other two the other side. Noise enough they made +certainly, but it was too early in the season for the young birds, and +the old birds were too strong on the wing for our young marksmen, +and flew out of shot after the first discharge. But it was great fun, +rushing along the hedgerows, and discharging stone after stone at +blackbirds and chaffinches, though no result in the shape of slaughtered +birds was obtained; and Arthur soon entered into it, and rushed to head +back the birds, and shouted, and threw, and tumbled into ditches, and +over and through hedges, as wild as the Madman himself. + +Presently the party, in full cry after an old blackbird (who was +evidently used to the thing and enjoyed the fun, for he would wait till +they came close to him, and then fly on for forty yards or so, and, with +an impudent flicker of his tail, dart into the depths of the quickset), +came beating down a high double hedge, two on each side. + +“There he is again,” “Head him,” “Let drive,” “I had him there,” “Take +care where you're throwing, Madman.” The shouts might have been heard a +quarter of a mile off. They were heard some two hundred yards off by a +farmer and two of his shepherds, who were doctoring sheep in a fold in +the next field. + +Now, the farmer in question rented a house and yard situate at the end +of the field in which the young bird-fanciers had arrived, which house +and yard he didn't occupy or keep any one else in. Nevertheless, like +a brainless and unreasoning Briton, he persisted in maintaining on the +premises a large stock of cocks, hens, and other poultry. Of course, +all sorts of depredators visited the place from time to time: foxes and +gipsies wrought havoc in the night; while in the daytime, I regret +to have to confess that visits from the Rugby boys, and consequent +disappearances of ancient and respectable fowls were not unfrequent. +Tom and East had during the period of their outlawry visited the farm in +question for felonious purposes, and on one occasion had conquered and +slain a duck there, and borne away the carcass triumphantly, hidden in +their handkerchiefs. However, they were sickened of the practice by the +trouble and anxiety which the wretched duck's body caused them. They +carried it to Sally Harrowell's, in hopes of a good supper; but she, +after examining it, made a long face, and refused to dress or have +anything to do with it. Then they took it into their study, and began +plucking it themselves; but what to do with the feathers, where to hide +them? + +“Good gracious, Tom, what a lot of feathers a duck has!” groaned East, +holding a bagful in his hand, and looking disconsolately at the carcass, +not yet half plucked. + +“And I do think he's getting high, too, already,” said Tom, smelling at +him cautiously, “so we must finish him up soon.” + +“Yes, all very well; but how are we to cook him? I'm sure I ain't going +to try it on in the hall or passages; we can't afford to be roasting +ducks about--our character's too bad.” + +“I wish we were rid of the brute,” said Tom, throwing him on the table +in disgust. And after a day or two more it became clear that got rid of +he must be; so they packed him and sealed him up in brown paper, and put +him in the cupboard of an unoccupied study, where he was found in the +holidays by the matron, a gruesome body. + +They had never been duck-hunting there since, but others had, and the +bold yeoman was very sore on the subject, and bent on making an example +of the first boys he could catch. So he and his shepherds crouched +behind the hurdles, and watched the party, who were approaching all +unconscious. Why should that old guinea-fowl be lying out in the +hedge just at this particular moment of all the year? Who can say? +Guinea-fowls always are; so are all other things, animals, and persons, +requisite for getting one into scrapes--always ready when any mischief +can come of them. At any rate, just under East's nose popped out the old +guinea-hen, scuttling along and shrieking, “Come back, come back,” + at the top of her voice. Either of the other three might perhaps have +withstood the temptation, but East first lets drive the stone he has in +his hand at her, and then rushes to turn her into the hedge again. He +succeeds, and then they are all at it for dear life, up and down the +hedge in full cry, the “Come back, come back,” getting shriller and +fainter every minute. + +Meantime, the farmer and his men steal over the hurdles and creep down +the hedge towards the scene of action. They are almost within a stone's +throw of Martin, who is pressing the unlucky chase hard, when Tom +catches sight of them, and sings out, “Louts, 'ware louts, your side! +Madman, look ahead!” and then catching hold of Arthur, hurries him away +across the field towards Rugby as hard as they can tear. Had he been by +himself, he would have stayed to see it out with the others, but now +his heart sinks and all his pluck goes. The idea of being led up to the +Doctor with Arthur for bagging fowls quite unmans and takes half the run +out of him. + +However, no boys are more able to take care of themselves than East and +Martin; they dodge the pursuers, slip through a gap, and come pelting +after Tom and Arthur, whom they catch up in no time. The farmer and his +men are making good running about a field behind. Tom wishes to himself +that they had made off in any other direction, but now they are all in +for it together, and must see it out. + +“You won't leave the young un, will you?” says he, as they haul poor +little Arthur, already losing wind from the fright, through the next +hedge. “Not we,” is the answer from both. The next hedge is a stiff +one; the pursuers gain horribly on them, and they only just pull Arthur +through, with two great rents in his trousers, as the foremost shepherd +comes up on the other side. As they start into the next field, they are +aware of two figures walking down the footpath in the middle of it, and +recognize Holmes and Diggs taking a constitutional. Those good-natured +fellows immediately shout, “On.” “Let's go to them and surrender,” + pants Tom. Agreed. And in another minute the four boys, to the great +astonishment of those worthies, rush breathless up to Holmes and Diggs, +who pull up to see what is the matter; and then the whole is explained +by the appearance of the farmer and his men, who unite their forces and +bear down on the knot of boys. + +There is no time to explain, and Tom's heart beats frightfully quick, as +he ponders, “Will they stand by us?” + +The farmer makes a rush at East and collars him; and that young +gentleman, with unusual discretion, instead of kicking his shins, looks +appealingly at Holmes, and stands still. + +“Hullo there; not so fast,” says Holmes, who is bound to stand up for +them till they are proved in the wrong. “Now what's all this about?” + +“I've got the young varmint at last, have I,” pants the farmer; “why, +they've been a-skulking about my yard and stealing my fowls--that's +where 'tis; and if I doan't have they flogged for it, every one on 'em, +my name ain't Thompson.” + +Holmes looks grave and Diggs's face falls. They are quite ready to +fight--no boys in the school more so; but they are praepostors, and +understand their office, and can't uphold unrighteous causes. + +“I haven't been near his old barn this half,” cries East. “Nor I,” “Nor +I,” chime in Tom and Martin. + +“Now, Willum, didn't you see 'em there last week?” + +“Ees, I seen 'em sure enough,” says Willum, grasping a prong he carried, +and preparing for action. + +The boys deny stoutly, and Willum is driven to admit that “if it worn't +they 'twas chaps as like 'em as two peas'n;” and “leastways he'll swear +he see'd them two in the yard last Martinmas,” indicating East and Tom. + +Holmes has had time to meditate. “Now, sir,” says he to Willum, “you see +you can't remember what you have seen, and I believe the boys.” + +“I doan't care,” blusters the farmer; “they was arter my fowls +to-day--that's enough for I.--Willum, you catch hold o' t'other chap. +They've been a-sneaking about this two hours, I tells 'ee,” shouted he, +as Holmes stands between Martin and Willum, “and have druv a matter of a +dozen young pullets pretty nigh to death.” + +“Oh, there's a whacker!” cried East; “we haven't been within a hundred +yards of his barn; we haven't been up here above ten minutes, and we've +seen nothing but a tough old guinea-hen, who ran like a greyhound.” + +“Indeed, that's all true, Holmes, upon my honour,” added Tom; “we +weren't after his fowls; guinea-hen ran out of the hedge under our feet, +and we've seen nothing else.” + +“Drat their talk. Thee catch hold o' t'other, Willum, and come along wi' +un.” + +“Farmer Thompson,” said Holmes, warning off Willum and the prong with +his stick, while Diggs faced the other shepherd, cracking his fingers +like pistol-shots, “now listen to reason. The boys haven't been after +your fowls, that's plain.” + +“Tells 'ee I see'd'em. Who be you, I should like to know?” + +“Never you mind, farmer,” answered Holmes. “And now I'll just tell you +what it is: you ought to be ashamed of yourself for leaving all that +poultry about, with no one to watch it, so near the School. You deserve +to have it all stolen. So if you choose to come up to the Doctor with +them, I shall go with you, and tell him what I think of it.” + +The farmer began to take Holmes for a master; besides, he wanted to get +back to his flock. Corporal punishment was out of the question, the odds +were too great; so he began to hint at paying for the damage. Arthur +jumped at this, offering to pay anything, and the farmer immediately +valued the guinea-hen at half a sovereign. + +“Half a sovereign!” cried East, now released from the farmer's grip; +“well, that is a good one! The old hen ain't hurt a bit, and she's seven +years old, I know, and as tough as whipcord; she couldn't lay another +egg to save her life.” + +It was at last settled that they should pay the farmer two shillings, +and his man one shilling; and so the matter ended, to the unspeakable +relief of Tom, who hadn't been able to say a word, being sick at heart +at the idea of what the Doctor would think of him; and now the whole +party of boys marched off down the footpath towards Rugby. Holmes, who +was one of the best boys in the School, began to improve the occasion. +“Now, you youngsters,” said he, as he marched along in the middle of +them, “mind this; you're very well out of this scrape. Don't you go near +Thompson's barn again; do you hear?” + +Profuse promises from all, especially East. + +“Mind, I don't ask questions,” went on Mentor, “but I rather think some +of you have been there before this after his chickens. Now, knocking +over other people's chickens, and running off with them, is stealing. +It's a nasty word, but that's the plain English of it. If the chickens +were dead and lying in a shop, you wouldn't take them, I know that, any +more than you would apples out of Griffith's basket; but there's no real +difference between chickens running about and apples on a tree, and the +same articles in a shop. I wish our morals were sounder in such matters. +There's nothing so mischievous as these school distinctions, which +jumble up right and wrong, and justify things in us for which poor boys +would be sent to prison.” And good old Holmes delivered his soul on the +walk home of many wise sayings, and, as the song says, + + “Gee'd 'em a sight of good advice;” + +which same sermon sank into them all, more or less, and very penitent +they were for several hours. But truth compels me to admit that East, at +any rate, forgot it all in a week, but remembered the insult which had +been put upon him by Farmer Thompson, and with the Tadpole and other +hair-brained youngsters committed a raid on the barn soon afterwards, +in which they were caught by the shepherds and severely handled, besides +having to pay eight shillings--all the money they had in the world--to +escape being taken up to the Doctor. + +Martin became a constant inmate in the joint study from this time, and +Arthur took to him so kindly that Tom couldn't resist slight fits of +jealousy, which, however, he managed to keep to himself. The kestrel's +eggs had not been broken, strange to say, and formed the nucleus +of Arthur's collection, at which Martin worked heart and soul, and +introduced Arthur to Howlett the bird-fancier, and instructed him in +the rudiments of the art of stuffing. In token of his gratitude, Arthur +allowed Martin to tattoo a small anchor on one of his wrists; which +decoration, however, he carefully concealed from Tom. Before the end of +the half-year he had trained into a bold climber and good runner, and, +as Martin had foretold, knew twice as much about trees, birds, flowers, +and many other things, as our good-hearted and facetious young friend +Harry East. + + + +CHAPTER V--THE FIGHT: + + “Surgebat Macnevisius + Et mox jactabat ultro, + Pugnabo tua gratia + Feroci hoc Mactwoltro.”--Etonian. + +There is a certain sort of fellow--we who are used to studying boys all +know him well enough--of whom you can predicate with almost positive +certainty, after he has been a month at school, that he is sure to have +a fight, and with almost equal certainty that he will have but one. Tom +Brown was one of these; and as it is our well-weighed intention to give +a full, true, and correct account of Tom's only single combat with a +school-fellow in the manner of our old friend Bell's Life, let those +young persons whose stomachs are not strong, or who think a good set-to +with the weapons which God has given us all an uncivilized, unchristian, +or ungentlemanly affair, just skip this chapter at once, for it won't be +to their taste. + +It was not at all usual in those days for two School-house boys to +have a fight. Of course there were exceptions, when some cross-grained, +hard-headed fellow came up who would never be happy unless he was +quarrelling with his nearest neighbours, or when there was some +class-dispute, between the fifth form and the fags, for instance, which +required blood-letting; and a champion was picked out on each side +tacitly, who settled the matter by a good hearty mill. But, for the +most part, the constant use of those surest keepers of the peace, the +boxing-gloves, kept the School-house boys from fighting one another. Two +or three nights in every week the gloves were brought out, either in the +hall or fifth-form room; and every boy who was ever likely to fight at +all knew all his neighbours' prowess perfectly well, and could tell to a +nicety what chance he would have in a stand-up fight with any other +boy in the house. But, of course, no such experience could be gotten as +regarded boys in other houses; and as most of the other houses were more +or less jealous of the School-house, collisions were frequent. + +After all, what would life be without fighting, I should like to know? +From the cradle to the grave, fighting, rightly understood, is the +business, the real highest, honestest business of every son of man. +Every one who is worth his salt has his enemies, who must be beaten, be +they evil thoughts and habits in himself, or spiritual wickednesses in +high places, or Russians, or Border-ruffians, or Bill, Tom, or Harry, +who will not let him live his life in quiet till he has thrashed them. + +It is no good for quakers, or any other body of men, to uplift their +voices against fighting. Human nature is too strong for them, and they +don't follow their own precepts. Every soul of them is doing his own +piece of fighting, somehow and somewhere. The world might be a better +world without fighting, for anything I know, but it wouldn't be our +world; and therefore I am dead against crying peace when there is no +peace, and isn't meant to be. I am as sorry as any man to see folk +fighting the wrong people and the wrong things, but I'd a deal sooner +see them doing that than that they should have no fight in them. So +having recorded, and being about to record, my hero's fights of all +sorts, with all sorts of enemies, I shall now proceed to give an account +of his passage-at-arms with the only one of his school-fellows whom he +ever had to encounter in this manner. + +It was drawing towards the close of Arthur's first half-year, and +the May evenings were lengthening out. Locking-up was not till eight +o'clock, and everybody was beginning to talk about what he would do in +the holidays. The shell, in which form all our dramatis personae now +are, were reading, amongst other things, the last book of Homer's +“Iliad,” and had worked through it as far as the speeches of the women +over Hector's body. It is a whole school-day, and four or five of the +School-house boys (amongst whom are Arthur, Tom, and East) are preparing +third lesson together. They have finished the regulation forty lines, +and are for the most part getting very tired, notwithstanding +the exquisite pathos of Helen's lamentation. And now several long +four-syllabled words come together, and the boy with the dictionary +strikes work. + +“I am not going to look out any more words,” says he; “we've done the +quantity. Ten to one we shan't get so far. Let's go out into the close.” + +“Come along, boys,” cries East, always ready to leave “the grind,” as he +called it; “our old coach is laid up, you know, and we shall have one of +the new masters, who's sure to go slow and let us down easy.” + +So an adjournment to the close was carried nem. con., little Arthur not +daring to uplift his voice; but, being deeply interested in what they +were reading, stayed quietly behind, and learnt on for his own pleasure. + +As East had said, the regular master of the form was unwell, and they +were to be heard by one of the new masters--quite a young man, who had +only just left the university. Certainly it would be hard lines if, +by dawdling as much as possible in coming in and taking their places, +entering into long-winded explanations of what was the usual course of +the regular master of the form, and others of the stock contrivances of +boys for wasting time in school, they could not spin out the lesson so +that he should not work them through more than the forty lines. As to +which quantity there was a perpetual fight going on between the master +and his form--the latter insisting, and enforcing by passive resistance, +that it was the prescribed quantity of Homer for a shell lesson; the +former, that there was no fixed quantity, but that they must always be +ready to go on to fifty or sixty lines if there were time within the +hour. However, notwithstanding all their efforts, the new master got on +horribly quick. He seemed to have the bad taste to be really interested +in the lesson, and to be trying to work them up into something like +appreciation of it, giving them good, spirited English words, instead +of the wretched bald stuff into which they rendered poor old Homer, and +construing over each piece himself to them, after each boy, to show them +how it should be done. + +Now the clock strikes the three-quarters; there is only a quarter of an +hour more, but the forty lines are all but done. So the boys, one after +another, who are called up, stick more and more, and make balder and +ever more bald work of it. The poor young master is pretty near beat by +this time, and feels ready to knock his head against the wall, or his +fingers against somebody else's head. So he gives up altogether the +lower and middle parts of the form, and looks round in despair at the +boys on the top bench, to see if there is one out of whom he can strike +a spark or two, and who will be too chivalrous to murder the most +beautiful utterances of the most beautiful woman of the old world. His +eye rests on Arthur, and he calls him up to finish construing Helen's +speech. Whereupon all the other boys draw long breaths, and begin to +stare about and take it easy. They are all safe: Arthur is the head of +the form, and sure to be able to construe, and that will tide on safely +till the hour strikes. + +Arthur proceeds to read out the passage in Greek before construing it, +as the custom is. Tom, who isn't paying much attention, is suddenly +caught by the falter in his voice as he reads the two lines-- + +[greek text deleted] + +He looks up at Arthur. “Why, bless us,” thinks he, “what can be the +matter with the young un? He's never going to get floored. He's sure +to have learnt to the end.” Next moment he is reassured by the spirited +tone in which Arthur begins construing, and betakes himself to drawing +dogs' heads in his notebook, while the master, evidently enjoying the +change, turns his back on the middle bench and stands before Arthur, +beating a sort of time with his hand and foot, and saying; “Yes, yes,” + “Very well,” as Arthur goes on. + +But as he nears the fatal two lines, Tom catches that falter, and again +looks up. He sees that there is something the matter; Arthur can hardly +get on at all. What can it be? + +Suddenly at this point Arthur breaks down altogether, and fairly bursts +out crying, and dashes the cuff of his jacket across his eyes, blushing +up to the roots of his hair, and feeling as if he should like to go down +suddenly through the floor. The whole form are taken aback; most of them +stare stupidly at him, while those who are gifted with presence of mind +find their places and look steadily at their books, in hopes of not +catching the master's eye and getting called up in Arthur's place. + +The master looks puzzled for a moment, and then seeing, as the fact is, +that the boy is really affected to tears by the most touching thing in +Homer, perhaps in all profane poetry put together, steps up to him and +lays his hand kindly on his shoulder, saying, “Never mind, my little +man, you've construed very well. Stop a minute; there's no hurry.” + +Now, as luck would have it, there sat next above Tom on that day, in +the middle bench of the form, a big boy, by name Williams, generally +supposed to be the cock of the shell, therefore of all the school below +the fifths. The small boys, who are great speculators on the prowess of +their elders, used to hold forth to one another about Williams's great +strength, and to discuss whether East or Brown would take a licking from +him. He was called Slogger Williams, from the force with which it was +supposed he could hit. In the main, he was a rough, goodnatured fellow +enough, but very much alive to his own dignity. He reckoned himself +the king of the form, and kept up his position with the strong hand, +especially in the matter of forcing boys not to construe more than the +legitimate forty lines. He had already grunted and grumbled to himself +when Arthur went on reading beyond the forty lines; but now that he +had broken down just in the middle of all the long words, the Slogger's +wrath was fairly roused. + +“Sneaking little brute,” muttered he, regardless of prudence--“clapping +on the water-works just in the hardest place; see if I don't punch his +head after fourth lesson.” + +“Whose?” said Tom, to whom the remark seemed to be addressed. + +“Why, that little sneak, Arthur's,” replied Williams. + +“No, you shan't,” said Tom. + +“Hullo!” exclaimed Williams, looking at Tom with great surprise for a +moment, and then giving him a sudden dig in the ribs with his elbow, +which sent Tom's books flying on to the floor, and called the attention +of the master, who turned suddenly round, and seeing the state of +things, said,-- + +“Williams, go down three places, and then go on.” + +The Slogger found his legs very slowly, and proceeded to go below Tom +and two other boys with great disgust; and then, turning round and +facing the master, said, “I haven't learnt any more, sir; our lesson is +only forty lines.” + +“Is that so?” said the master, appealing generally to the top bench. No +answer. + +“Who is the head boy of the form?” said he, waxing wroth. + +“Arthur, sir,” answered three or four boys, indicating our friend. + +“Oh, your name's Arthur. Well, now, what is the length of your regular +lesson?” + +Arthur hesitated a moment, and then said, “We call it only forty lines, +sir.” + +“How do you mean--you call it?” + +“Well, sir, Mr. Graham says we ain't to stop there when there's time to +construe more.” + +“I understand,” said the master.--“Williams, go down three more places, +and write me out the lesson in Greek and English. And now, Arthur, +finish construing.” + +“Oh! would I be in Arthur's shoes after fourth lesson?” said the little +boys to one another; but Arthur finished Helen's speech without any +further catastrophe, and the clock struck four, which ended third +lesson. + +Another hour was occupied in preparing and saying fourth lesson, during +which Williams was bottling up his wrath; and when five struck, and the +lessons for the day were over, he prepared to take summary vengeance on +the innocent cause of his misfortune. + +Tom was detained in school a few minutes after the rest, and on coming +out into the quadrangle, the first thing he saw was a small ring of +boys, applauding Williams, who was holding Arthur by the collar. + +“There, you young sneak,” said he, giving Arthur a cuff on the head with +his other hand; “what made you say that--” + +“Hullo!” said Tom, shouldering into the crowd; “you drop that, Williams; +you shan't touch him.” + +“Who'll stop me?” said the Slogger, raising his hand again. + +“I,” said Tom; and suiting the action to the word he struck the arm +which held Arthur's arm so sharply that the Slogger dropped it with a +start, and turned the full current of his wrath on Tom. + +“Will you fight?” + +“Yes, of course.” + +“Huzza! There's going to be a fight between Slogger Williams and Tom +Brown!” + +The news ran like wildfire about, and many boys who were on their way +to tea at their several houses turned back, and sought the back of the +chapel, where the fights come off. + +“Just run and tell East to come and back me,” said Tom to a small +School-house boy, who was off like a rocket to Harrowell's, just +stopping for a moment to poke his head into the School-house hall, where +the lower boys were already at tea, and sing out, “Fight! Tom Brown and +Slogger Williams.” + +Up start half the boys at once, leaving bread, eggs, butter, sprats, +and all the rest to take care of themselves. The greater part of the +remainder follow in a minute, after swallowing their tea, carrying their +food in their hands to consume as they go. Three or four only remain, +who steal the butter of the more impetuous, and make to themselves an +unctuous feast. + +In another minute East and Martin tear through the quadrangle, carrying +a sponge, and arrive at the scene of action just as the combatants are +beginning to strip. + +Tom felt he had got his work cut out for him, as he stripped off his +jacket, waistcoat, and braces. East tied his handkerchief round his +waist, and rolled up his shirtsleeves for him. “Now, old boy, don't you +open your mouth to say a word, or try to help yourself a bit--we'll do +all that; you keep all your breath and strength for the Slogger.” Martin +meanwhile folded the clothes, and put them under the chapel rails; and +now Tom, with East to handle him, and Martin to give him a knee, steps +out on the turf, and is ready for all that may come; and here is the +Slogger too, all stripped, and thirsting for the fray. + +It doesn't look a fair match at first glance: Williams is nearly two +inches taller, and probably a long year older than his opponent, and he +is very strongly made about the arms and shoulders--“peels well,” as the +little knot of big fifth-form boys, the amateurs, say, who stand outside +the ring of little boys, looking complacently on, but taking no active +part in the proceedings. But down below he is not so good by any +means--no spring from the loins, and feeblish, not to say shipwrecky, +about the knees. Tom, on the contrary, though not half so strong in the +arms, is good all over, straight, hard, and springy, from neck to ankle, +better perhaps in his legs than anywhere. Besides, you can see by the +clear white of his eye, and fresh, bright look of his skin, that he is +in tip-top training, able to do all he knows; while the Slogger looks +rather sodden, as if he didn't take much exercise and ate too much +tuck. The time-keeper is chosen, a large ring made, and the two stand +up opposite one another for a moment, giving us time just to make our +little observations. + +“If Tom'll only condescend to fight with his head and heels,” as East +mutters to Martin, “we shall do.” + +But seemingly he won't, for there he goes in, making play with both +hands. Hard all is the word; the two stand to one another like men; +rally follows rally in quick succession, each fighting as if he thought +to finish the whole thing out of hand. “Can't last at this rate,” say +the knowing ones, while the partisans of each make the air ring +with their shouts and counter-shouts of encouragement, approval, and +defiance. + +“Take it easy, take it easy; keep away; let him come after you,” + implores East, as he wipes Tom's face after the first round with a wet +sponge, while he sits back on Martin's knee, supported by the Madman's +long arms which tremble a little from excitement. + +“Time's up,” calls the time-keeper. + +“There he goes again, hang it all!” growls East, as his man is at it +again, as hard as ever. A very severe round follows, in which Tom gets +out and out the worst of it, and is at last hit clean off his legs, and +deposited on the grass by a right-hander from the Slogger. + +Loud shouts rise from the boys of Slogger's house, and the School-house +are silent and vicious, ready to pick quarrels anywhere. + +“Two to one in half-crowns on the big un,” says Rattle, one of the +amateurs, a tall fellow, in thunder-and-lightning waistcoat, and puffy, +good-natured face. + +“Done!” says Groove, another amateur of quieter look, taking out his +notebook to enter it, for our friend Rattle sometimes forgets these +little things. + +Meantime East is freshening up Tom with the sponges for next round, and +has set two other boys to rub his hands. + +“Tom, old boy,” whispers he, “this may be fun for you, but it's death to +me. He'll hit all the fight out of you in another five minutes, and then +I shall go and drown myself in the island ditch. Feint him; use your +legs; draw him about. He'll lose his wind then in no time, and you can +go into him. Hit at his body too; we'll take care of his frontispiece +by-and-by.” + +Tom felt the wisdom of the counsel, and saw already that he couldn't go +in and finish the Slogger off at mere hammer and tongs, so changed his +tactics completely in the third round. He now fights cautiously, getting +away from and parrying the Slogger's lunging hits, instead of trying +to counter, and leading his enemy a dance all round the ring after +him. “He's funking; go in, Williams,” “Catch him up,” “Finish him off,” + scream the small boys of the Slogger party. + +“Just what we want,” thinks East, chuckling to himself, as he sees +Williams, excited by these shouts, and thinking the game in his own +hands, blowing himself in his exertions to get to close quarters again, +while Tom is keeping away with perfect ease. + +They quarter over the ground again and again, Tom always on the +defensive. + +The Slogger pulls up at last for a moment, fairly blown. + +“Now, then, Tom,” sings out East, dancing with delight. Tom goes in in a +twinkling, and hits two heavy body blows, and gets away again before the +Slogger can catch his wind, which when he does he rushes with blind fury +at Tom, and being skilfully parried and avoided, overreaches himself and +falls on his face, amidst terrific cheers from the School-house boys. + +“Double your two to one?” says Groove to Rattle, notebook in hand. + +“Stop a bit,” says that hero, looking uncomfortably at Williams, who is +puffing away on his second's knee, winded enough, but little the worse +in any other way. + +After another round the Slogger too seems to see that he can't go in and +win right off, and has met his match or thereabouts. So he too begins +to use his head, and tries to make Tom lose his patience, and come in +before his time. And so the fight sways on, now one and now the other +getting a trifling pull. + +Tom's face begins to look very one-sided--there are little queer bumps +on his forehead, and his mouth is bleeding; but East keeps the wet +sponge going so scientifically that he comes up looking as fresh and +bright as ever. Williams is only slightly marked in the face, but by +the nervous movement of his elbows you can see that Tom's body blows are +telling. In fact, half the vice of the Slogger's hitting is neutralized, +for he daren't lunge out freely for fear of exposing his sides. It is +too interesting by this time for much shouting, and the whole ring is +very quiet. + +“All right, Tommy,” whispers East; “hold on's the horse that's to win. +We've got the last. Keep your head, old boy.” + +But where is Arthur all this time? Words cannot paint the poor little +fellow's distress. He couldn't muster courage to come up to the ring, +but wandered up and down from the great fives court to the corner of the +chapel rails, now trying to make up his mind to throw himself between +them, and try to stop them; then thinking of running in and telling his +friend Mary, who, he knew, would instantly report to the Doctor. +The stories he had heard of men being killed in prize-fights rose up +horribly before him. + +Once only, when the shouts of “Well done, Brown!” “Huzza for the +School-house!” rose higher than ever, he ventured up to the ring, +thinking the victory was won. Catching sight of Tom's face in the state +I have described, all fear of consequences vanishing out of his mind; +he rushed straight off to the matron's room, beseeching her to get the +fight stopped, or he should die. + +But it's time for us to get back to the close. What is this fierce +tumult and confusion? The ring is broken, and high and angry words are +being bandied about. “It's all fair”--“It isn't”--“No hugging!” The +fight is stopped. The combatants, however, sit there quietly, tended by +their seconds, while their adherents wrangle in the middle. East can't +help shouting challenges to two or three of the other side, though he +never leaves Tom for a moment, and plies the sponges as fast as ever. + +The fact is, that at the end of the last round, Tom, seeing a good +opening, had closed with his opponent, and after a moment's struggle, +had thrown him heavily, by help of the fall he had learnt from his +village rival in the Vale of White Horse. Williams hadn't the ghost of +a chance with Tom at wrestling; and the conviction broke at once on +the Slogger faction that if this were allowed their man must be licked. +There was a strong feeling in the School against catching hold and +throwing, though it was generally ruled all fair within limits; so the +ring was broken and the fight stopped. + +The School-house are overruled--the fight is on again, but there is to +be no throwing; and East, in high wrath, threatens to take his man away +after next round (which he don't mean to do, by the way), when suddenly +young Brooke comes through the small gate at the end of the chapel. The +School-house faction rush to him. “Oh, hurrah! now we shall get fair +play.” + +“Please, Brooke, come up. They won't let Tom Brown throw him.” + +“Throw whom?” says Brooke, coming up to the ring. “Oh! Williams, I see. +Nonsense! Of course he may throw him, if he catches him fairly above the +waist.” + +Now, young Brooke, you're in the sixth, you know, and you ought to stop +all fights. He looks hard at both boys. “Anything wrong?” says he to +East, nodding at Tom. + +“Not a bit.” + +“Not beat at all?” + +“Bless you, no! Heaps of fight in him.--Ain't there, Tom?” + +Tom looks at Brooke and grins. + +“How's he?” nodding at Williams. + +“So so; rather done, I think, since his last fall. He won't stand above +two more.” + +“Time's up!” The boys rise again and face one another. Brooke can't find +it in his heart to stop them just yet, so the round goes on, the Slogger +waiting for Tom, and reserving all his strength to hit him out should +he come in for the wrestling dodge again, for he feels that that must be +stopped, or his sponge will soon go up in the air. + +And now another newcomer appears on the field, to wit, the under-porter, +with his long brush and great wooden receptacle for dust under his arm. +He has been sweeping out the schools. + +“You'd better stop, gentlemen,” he says; “the Doctor knows that Brown's +fighting--he'll be out in a minute.” + +“You go to Bath, Bill,” is all that that excellent servitor gets by +his advice; and being a man of his hands, and a stanch upholder of the +School-house, can't help stopping to look on for a bit, and see Tom +Brown, their pet craftsman, fight a round. + +It is grim earnest now, and no mistake. Both boys feel this, and summon +every power of head, hand, and eye to their aid. A piece of luck on +either side, a foot slipping, a blow getting well home, or another fall, +may decide it. Tom works slowly round for an opening; he has all the +legs, and can choose his own time. The Slogger waits for the attack, +and hopes to finish it by some heavy right-handed blow. As they quarter +slowly over the ground, the evening sun comes out from behind a cloud +and falls full on Williams's face. Tom darts in; the heavy right hand +is delivered, but only grazes his head. A short rally at close quarters, +and they close; in another moment the Slogger is thrown again heavily +for the third time. + +“I'll give you three or two on the little one in half-crowns,” said +Groove to Rattle. + +“No, thank 'ee,” answers the other, diving his hands farther into his +coat-tails. + +Just at this stage of the proceedings, the door of the turret which +leads to the Doctor's library suddenly opens, and he steps into the +close, and makes straight for the ring, in which Brown and the Slogger +are both seated on their seconds' knees for the last time. + +“The Doctor! the Doctor!” shouts some small boy who catches sight of +him, and the ring melts away in a few seconds, the small boys tearing +off, Tom collaring his jacket and waistcoat, and slipping through the +little gate by the chapel, and round the corner to Harrowell's with his +backers, as lively as need be; Williams and his backers making off not +quite so fast across the close; Groove, Rattle, and the other bigger +fellows trying to combine dignity and prudence in a comical manner, and +walking off fast enough, they hope, not to be recognized, and not fast +enough to look like running away. + +Young Brooke alone remains on the ground by the time the Doctor gets +there, and touches his hat, not without a slight inward qualm. + +“Hah! Brooke. I am surprised to see you here. Don't you know that I +expect the sixth to stop fighting?” + +Brooke felt much more uncomfortable than he had expected, but he was +rather a favourite with the Doctor for his openness and plainness of +speech, so blurted out, as he walked by the Doctor's side, who had +already turned back,-- + +“Yes, sir, generally. But I thought you wished us to exercise a +discretion in the matter too--not to interfere too soon.” + +“But they have been fighting this half-hour and more,” said the Doctor. + +“Yes, sir; but neither was hurt. And they're the sort of boys who'll be +all the better friends now, which they wouldn't have been if they had +been stopped, any earlier--before it was so equal.” + +“Who was fighting with Brown?” said the Doctor. + +“Williams, sir, of Thompson's. He is bigger than Brown, and had the best +of it at first, but not when you came up, sir. There's a good deal of +jealousy between our house and Thompson's, and there would have been +more fights if this hadn't been let go on, or if either of them had had +much the worst of it.” + +“Well but, Brooke,” said the Doctor, “doesn't this look a little as +if you exercised your discretion by only stopping a fight when the +School-house boy is getting the worst of it?” + +Brooke, it must be confessed, felt rather gravelled. + +“Now remember,” added the Doctor, as he stopped at the turret-door, +“this fight is not to go on; you'll see to that. And I expect you to +stop all fights in future at once.” + +“Very well, sir,” said young Brooke, touching his hat, and not sorry to +see the turret-door close behind the Doctor's back. + +Meantime Tom and the stanchest of his adherents had reached Harrowell's, +and Sally was bustling about to get them a late tea, while Stumps had +been sent off to Tew, the butcher, to get a piece of raw beef for Tom's +eye, which was to be healed off-hand, so that he might show well in the +morning. He was not a bit the worse, except a slight difficulty in his +vision, a singing in his ears, and a sprained thumb, which he kept in +a cold-water bandage, while he drank lots of tea, and listened to the +babel of voices talking and speculating of nothing but the fight, and +how Williams would have given in after another fall (which he didn't in +the least believe), and how on earth the Doctor could have got to know +of it--such bad luck! He couldn't help thinking to himself that he was +glad he hadn't won; he liked it better as it was, and felt very friendly +to the Slogger. And then poor little Arthur crept in and sat down +quietly near him, and kept looking at him and the raw beef with such +plaintive looks that Tom at last burst out laughing. + +“Don't make such eyes, young un,” said he; “there's nothing the matter.” + +“Oh, but, Tom, are you much hurt? I can't bear thinking it was all for +me.” + +“Not a bit of it; don't flatter yourself. We were sure to have had it +out sooner or later.” + +“Well, but you won't go on, will you? You'll promise me you won't go +on?” + +“Can't tell about that--all depends on the houses. We're in the hands +of our countrymen, you know. Must fight for the School-house flag, if so +be.” + +However, the lovers of the science were doomed to disappointment this +time. Directly after locking-up, one of the night-fags knocked at Tom's +door. + +“Brown, young Brooke wants you in the sixth-form room.” + +Up went Tom to the summons, and found the magnates sitting at their +supper. + +“Well, Brown,” said young Brooke, nodding to him, “how do you feel?” + +“Oh, very well, thank you, only I've sprained my thumb, I think.” + +“Sure to do that in a fight. Well, you hadn't the worst of it, I could +see. Where did you learn that throw?” + +“Down in the country when I was a boy.” + +“Hullo! why, what are you now? Well, never mind, you're a plucky fellow. +Sit down and have some supper.” + +Tom obeyed, by no means loath. And the fifth-form boy next filled him a +tumbler of bottled beer, and he ate and drank, listening to the pleasant +talk, and wondering how soon he should be in the fifth, and one of that +much-envied society. + +As he got up to leave, Brooke said, “You must shake hands to-morrow +morning; I shall come and see that done after first lesson.” + +And so he did. And Tom and the Slogger shook hands with great +satisfaction and mutual respect. And for the next year or two, whenever +fights were being talked of, the small boys who had been present shook +their heads wisely, saying, “Ah! but you should just have seen the fight +between Slogger Williams and Tom Brown!” + +And now, boys all, three words before we quit the subject. I have put +in this chapter on fighting of malice prepense, partly because I want to +give you a true picture of what everyday school life was in my time, and +not a kid-glove and go-to-meeting-coat picture, and partly because of +the cant and twaddle that's talked of boxing and fighting with fists +nowadays. Even Thackeray has given in to it; and only a few weeks ago +there was some rampant stuff in the Times on the subject, in an article +on field sports. + +Boys will quarrel, and when they quarrel will sometimes fight. Fighting +with fists is the natural and English way for English boys to settle +their quarrels. What substitute for it is there, or ever was there, +amongst any nation under the sun? What would you like to see take its +place? + +Learn to box, then, as you learn to play cricket and football. Not one +of you will be the worse, but very much the better, for learning to box +well. Should you never have to use it in earnest, there's no exercise +in the world so good for the temper and for the muscles of the back and +legs. + +As to fighting, keep out of it if you can, by all means. When the +time comes, if it ever should, that you have to say “Yes” or “No” to +a challenge to fight, say “No” if you can--only take care you make +it clear to yourselves why you say “No.” It's a proof of the highest +courage, if done from true Christian motives. It's quite right and +justifiable, if done from a simple aversion to physical pain and danger. +But don't say “No” because you fear a licking, and say or think it's +because you fear God, for that's neither Christian nor honest. And if +you do fight, fight it out; and don't give in while you can stand and +see. + + + +CHAPTER VI--FEVER IN THE SCHOOL. + + “This our hope for all that's mortal + And we too shall burst the bond; + Death keeps watch beside the portal, + But 'tis life that dwells beyond.” + --JOHN STERLING. + +Two years have passed since the events recorded in the last chapter, and +the end of the summer half-year is again drawing on. Martin has left and +gone on a cruise in the South Pacific, in one of his uncle's ships; the +old magpie, as disreputable as ever, his last bequest to Arthur, lives +in the joint study. Arthur is nearly sixteen, and at the head of the +twenty, having gone up the school at the rate of a form a half-year. +East and Tom have been much more deliberate in their progress, and are +only a little way up the fifth form. Great strapping boys they are, +but still thorough boys, filling about the same place in the house that +young Brooke filled when they were new boys, and much the same sort +of fellows. Constant intercourse with Arthur has done much for both of +them, especially for Tom; but much remains yet to be done, if they +are to get all the good out of Rugby which is to be got there in these +times. Arthur is still frail and delicate, with more spirit than body; +but, thanks to his intimacy with them and Martin, has learned to swim, +and run, and play cricket, and has never hurt himself by too much +reading. + +One evening, as they were all sitting down to supper in the fifth-form +room, some one started a report that a fever had broken out at one of +the boarding-houses. “They say,” he added, “that Thompson is very ill, +and that Dr. Robertson has been sent for from Northampton.” + +“Then we shall all be sent home,” cried another. “Hurrah! five weeks' +extra holidays, and no fifth-form examination!” + +“I hope not,” said Tom; “there'll be no Marylebone match then at the end +of the half.” + +Some thought one thing, some another, many didn't believe the report; +but the next day, Tuesday, Dr. Robertson arrived, and stayed all day, +and had long conferences with the Doctor. + +On Wednesday morning, after prayers, the Doctor addressed the whole +school. There were several cases of fever in different houses, he said; +but Dr. Robertson, after the most careful examination, had assured him +that it was not infectious, and that if proper care were taken, +there could be no reason for stopping the school-work at present. The +examinations were just coming on, and it would be very unadvisable to +break up now. However, any boys who chose to do so were at liberty to +write home, and, if their parents wished it, to leave at once. He should +send the whole school home if the fever spread. + +The next day Arthur sickened, but there was no other case. Before the +end of the week thirty or forty boys had gone, but the rest stayed on. +There was a general wish to please the Doctor, and a feeling that it was +cowardly to run away. + +On the Saturday Thompson died, in the bright afternoon, while the +cricket-match was going on as usual on the big-side ground. The Doctor, +coming from his deathbed, passed along the gravel-walk at the side +of the close, but no one knew what had happened till the next day. At +morning lecture it began to be rumoured, and by afternoon chapel was +known generally; and a feeling of seriousness and awe at the actual +presence of death among them came over the whole school. In all the long +years of his ministry the Doctor perhaps never spoke words which sank +deeper than some of those in that day's sermon. + +“When I came yesterday from visiting all but the very death-bed of him +who has been taken from us, and looked around upon all the familiar +objects and scenes within our own ground, where your common amusements +were going on with your common cheerfulness and activity, I felt there +was nothing painful in witnessing that; it did not seem in any way +shocking or out of tune with those feelings which the sight of a dying +Christian must be supposed to awaken. The unsuitableness in point of +natural feeling between scenes of mourning and scenes of liveliness did +not at all present itself. But I did feel that if at that moment any of +those faults had been brought before me which sometimes occur amongst +us; had I heard that any of you had been guilty of falsehood, or of +drunkenness, or of any other such sin; had I heard from any quarter the +language of profaneness, or of unkindness, or of indecency; had I heard +or seen any signs of that wretched folly which courts the laugh of +fools by affecting not to dread evil and not to care for good, then the +unsuitableness of any of these things with the scene I had just quitted +would indeed have been most intensely painful. And why? Not because such +things would really have been worse than at any other time, but because +at such a moment the eyes are opened really to know good and evil, +because we then feel what it is so to live as that death becomes an +infinite blessing, and what it is so to live also that it were good for +us if we had never been born.” + +Tom had gone into chapel in sickening anxiety about Arthur, but he came +out cheered and strengthened by those grand words, and walked up alone +to their study. And when he sat down and looked round, and saw Arthur's +straw hat and cricket-jacket hanging on their pegs, and marked all his +little neat arrangements, not one of which had been disturbed, the tears +indeed rolled down his cheeks; but they were calm and blessed tears, and +he repeated to himself, “Yes, Geordie's eyes are opened; he knows what +it is so to live as that death becomes an infinite blessing. But do I? O +God, can I bear to lose him?” + +The week passed mournfully away. No more boys sickened, but Arthur was +reported worse each day, and his mother arrived early in the week. Tom +made many appeals to be allowed to see him, and several times tried to +get up to the sick-room; but the housekeeper was always in the way, and +at last spoke to the Doctor, who kindly but peremptorily forbade him. + +Thompson was buried on the Tuesday, and the burial service, so soothing +and grand always, but beyond all words solemn when read over a boy's +grave to his companions, brought him much comfort, and many strange +new thoughts and longings. He went back to his regular life, and played +cricket and bathed as usual. It seemed to him that this was the right +thing to do, and the new thoughts and longings became more brave and +healthy for the effort. The crisis came on Saturday; the day week that +Thompson had died; and during that long afternoon Tom sat in his study +reading his Bible, and going every half-hour to the housekeeper's room, +expecting each time to hear that the gentle and brave little spirit +had gone home. But God had work for Arthur to do. The crisis passed: +on Sunday evening he was declared out of danger; on Monday he sent a +message to Tom that he was almost well, had changed his room, and was to +be allowed to see him the next day. + +It was evening when the housekeeper summoned him to the sick-room. +Arthur was lying on the sofa by the open window, through which the rays +of the western sun stole gently, lighting up his white face and golden +hair. Tom remembered a German picture of an angel which he knew; often +had he thought how transparent and golden and spirit-like it was; and +he shuddered, to think how like it Arthur looked, and felt a shock as if +his blood had all stopped short, as he realized how near the other world +his friend must have been to look like that. Never till that moment had +he felt how his little chum had twined himself round his heart-strings, +and as he stole gently across the room and knelt down, and put his arm +round Arthur's head on the pillow, felt ashamed and half-angry at his +own red and brown face, and the bounding sense of health and power which +filled every fibre of his body, and made every movement of mere living a +joy to him. He needn't have troubled himself: it was this very strength +and power so different from his own which drew Arthur so to him. + +Arthur laid his thin, white hand, on which the blue veins stood out so +plainly, on Tom's great brown fist, and smiled at him; and then looked +out of the window again, as if he couldn't bear to lose a moment of the +sunset, into the tops of the great feathery elms, round which the rooks +were circling and clanging, returning in flocks from their evening's +foraging parties. The elms rustled, the sparrows in the ivy just outside +the window chirped and fluttered about, quarrelling, and making it up +again; the rooks, young and old, talked in chorus, and the merry shouts +of the boys and the sweet click of the cricket-bats came up cheerily +from below. + +“Dear George,” said Tom, “I am so glad to be let up to see you at last. +I've tried hard to come so often, but they wouldn't let me before.” + +“Oh, I know, Tom; Mary has told me every day about you, and how she was +obliged to make the Doctor speak to you to keep you away. I'm very glad +you didn't get up, for you might have caught it; and you couldn't stand +being ill, with all the matches going on. And you're in the eleven, too, +I hear. I'm so glad.” + +“Yes; ain't it jolly?” said Tom proudly. “I'm ninth too. I made forty at +the last pie-match, and caught three fellows out. So I was put in +above Jones and Tucker. Tucker's so savage, for he was head of the +twenty-two.” + +“Well, I think you ought to be higher yet,” said Arthur, who was as +jealous for the renown of Tom in games as Tom was for his as a scholar. + +“Never mind. I don't care about cricket or anything now you're getting +well, Geordie; and I shouldn't have hurt, I know, if they'd have let me +come up. Nothing hurts me. But you'll get about now directly, won't you? +You won't believe how clean I've kept the study. All your things are +just as you left them; and I feed the old magpie just when you used, +though I have to come in from big-side for him, the old rip. He won't +look pleased all I can do, and sticks his head first on one side and +then on the other, and blinks at me before he'll begin to eat, till I'm +half inclined to box his ears. And whenever East comes in, you should +see him hop off to the window, dot and go one, though Harry wouldn't +touch a feather of him now.” + +Arthur laughed. “Old Gravey has a good memory; he can't forget the +sieges of poor Martin's den in old times.” He paused a moment, and then +went on: “You can't think how often I've been thinking of old Martin +since I've been ill. I suppose one's mind gets restless, and likes to +wander off to strange, unknown places. I wonder what queer new pets the +old boy has got. How he must be revelling in the thousand new birds, +beasts, and fishes!” + +Tom felt a pang of jealousy, but kicked it out in a moment. “Fancy him +on a South Sea island, with the Cherokees, or Patagonians, or some +such wild niggers!” (Tom's ethnology and geography were faulty, +but sufficient for his needs.) “They'll make the old Madman cock +medicine-man, and tattoo him all over. Perhaps he's cutting about now +all blue, and has a squaw and a wigwam. He'll improve their boomerangs, +and be able to throw them too, without having old Thomas sent after him +by the Doctor to take them away.” + +Arthur laughed at the remembrance of the boomerang story, but then +looked grave again, and said, “He'll convert all the island, I know.” + +“Yes, if he don't blow it up first.” + +“Do you remember, Tom, how you and East used to laugh at him and chaff +him, because he said he was sure the rooks all had calling-over or +prayers, or something of the sort, when the locking-up bell rang? Well, +I declare,” said Arthur, looking up seriously into Tom's laughing eyes, +“I do think he was right. Since I've been lying here, I've watched them +every night; and, do you know, they really do come and perch, all of +them, just about locking-up time; and then first there's a regular +chorus of caws; and then they stop a bit, and one old fellow, or perhaps +two or three in different trees, caw solos; and then off they all go +again, fluttering about and cawing anyhow till they roost.” + +“I wonder if the old blackies do talk,” said Tom, looking up at them. +“How they must abuse me and East, and pray for the Doctor for stopping +the slinging!” + +“There! look, look!” cried Arthur; “don't you see the old fellow without +a tail coming up? Martin used to call him the 'clerk.' He can't steer +himself. You never saw such fun as he is in a high wind, when he can't +steer himself home, and gets carried right past the trees, and has to +bear up again and again before he can perch.” + +The locking-up bell began to toll, and the two boys were silent, and +listened to it. The sound soon carried Tom off to the river and the +woods, and he began to go over in his mind the many occasions on which +he had heard that toll coming faintly down the breeze, and had to pack +his rod in a hurry and make a run for it, to get in before the gates +were shut. He was roused with a start from his memories by Arthur's +voice, gentle and weak from his late illness. + +“Tom, will you be angry if I talk to you very seriously?” + +“No, dear old boy, not I. But ain't you faint, Arthur, or ill? What can +I get you? Don't say anything to hurt yourself now--you are very weak; +let me come up again.” + +“No, no; I shan't hurt myself. I'd sooner speak to you now, if you don't +mind. I've asked Mary to tell the Doctor that you are with me, so you +needn't go down to calling-over; and I mayn't have another chance, for +I shall most likely have to go home for change of air to get well, and +mayn't come back this half.” + +“Oh, do you think you must go away before the end of the half? I'm +so sorry. It's more than five weeks yet to the holidays, and all the +fifth-form examination and half the cricket-matches to come yet. And +what shall I do all that time alone in our study? Why, Arthur, it will +be more than twelve weeks before I see you again. Oh, hang it, I can't +stand that! Besides who's to keep me up to working at the examination +books? I shall come out bottom of the form, as sure as eggs is eggs.” + +Tom was rattling on, half in joke, half in earnest, for he wanted to +get Arthur out of his serious vein, thinking it would do him harm; but +Arthur broke in,-- + +“Oh, please, Tom, stop, or you'll drive all I had to say out of my head. +And I'm already horribly afraid I'm going to make you angry.” + +“Don't gammon, young un,” rejoined Tom (the use of the old name, dear to +him from old recollections, made Arthur start and smile and feel quite +happy); “you know you ain't afraid, and you've never made me angry since +the first month we chummed together. Now I'm going to be quite sober for +a quarter of an hour, which is more than I am once in a year; so make +the most of it; heave ahead, and pitch into me right and left.” + +“Dear Tom, I ain't going to pitch into you,” said Arthur piteously; “and +it seems so cocky in me to be advising you, who've been my backbone ever +since I've been at Rugby, and have made the school a paradise to me. Ah, +I see I shall never do it, unless I go head over heels at once, as +you said when you taught me to swim. Tom, I want you to give up using +vulgus-books and cribs.” + +Arthur sank back on to his pillow with a sigh, as if the effort had been +great; but the worst was now over, and he looked straight at Tom, who +was evidently taken aback. He leant his elbows on his knees, and stuck +his hands into his hair, whistled a verse of “Billy Taylor,” and then +was quite silent for another minute. Not a shade crossed his face, +but he was clearly puzzled. At last he looked up, and caught Arthur's +anxious look, took his hand, and said simply,-- + +“Why, young un?” + +“Because you're the honestest boy in Rugby, and that ain't honest.” + +“I don't see that.” + +“What were you sent to Rugby for?” + +“Well, I don't know exactly--nobody ever told me. I suppose because all +boys are sent to a public school in England.” + +“But what do you think yourself? What do you want to do here, and to +carry away?” + +Tom thought a minute. “I want to be A1 at cricket and football, and all +the other games, and to make my hands keep my head against any fellow, +lout or gentleman. I want to get into the sixth before I leave, and to +please the Doctor; and I want to carry away just as much Latin and Greek +as will take me through Oxford respectably. There, now, young un; I +never thought of it before, but that's pretty much about my figure. +Ain't it all on the square? What have you got to say to that?” + +“Why, that you are pretty sure to do all that you want, then.” + +“Well, I hope so. But you've forgot one thing--what I want to leave +behind me. I want to leave behind me,” said Tom, speaking slow, and +looking much moved, “the name of a fellow who never bullied a little +boy, or turned his back on a big one.” + +Arthur pressed his hand, and after a moment's silence went on, “You say, +Tom, you want to please the Doctor. Now, do you want to please him by +what he thinks you do, or by what you really do?” + +“By what I really do, of course.” + +“Does he think you use cribs and vulgus-books?” + +Tom felt at once that his flank was turned, but he couldn't give in. “He +was at Winchester himself,” said he; “he knows all about it.” + +“Yes; but does he think you use them? Do you think he approves of it?” + +“You young villain!” said Tom, shaking his fist at Arthur, half vexed +and half pleased, “I never think about it. Hang it! there, perhaps he +don't. Well, I suppose he don't.” + +Arthur saw that he had got his point; he knew his friend well, and was +wise in silence as in speech. He only said, “I would sooner have the +doctor's good opinion of me as I really am than any man's in the world.” + +After another minute, Tom began again, “Look here, young un. How on +earth am I to get time to play the matches this half if I give up cribs? +We're in the middle of that long crabbed chorus in the Agamemnon. I can +only just make head or tail of it with the crib. Then there's Pericles's +speech coming on in Thucydides, and 'The Birds' to get up for the +examination, besides the Tacitus.” Tom groaned at the thought of his +accumulated labours. “I say, young un, there's only five weeks or so +left to holidays. Mayn't I go on as usual for this half? I'll tell the +Doctor about it some day, or you may.” + +Arthur looked out of the window. The twilight had come on, and all was +silent. He repeated in a low voice: “In this thing the Lord pardon thy +servant, that when my master goeth into the house of Rimmon to worship +there, and he leaneth on my hand, and I bow down myself in the house of +Rimmon, when I bow down myself in the house of Rimmon, the Lord pardon +thy servant in this thing.” + +Not a word more was said on the subject, and the boys were again +silent--one of those blessed, short silences in which the resolves which +colour a life are so often taken. + +Tom was the first to break it. “You've been very ill indeed, haven't +you, Geordie?” said he, with a mixture of awe and curiosity, feeling as +if his friend had been in some strange place or scene, of which he could +form no idea, and full of the memory of his own thoughts during the last +week. + +“Yes, very. I'm sure the Doctor thought I was going to die. He gave me +the Sacrament last Sunday, and you can't think what he is when one is +ill. He said such brave, and tender, and gentle things to me, I felt +quite light and strong after it, and never had any more fear. My mother +brought our old medical man, who attended me when I was a poor sickly +child. He said my constitution was quite changed, and that I'm fit for +anything now. If it hadn't, I couldn't have stood three days of this +illness. That's all thanks to you, and the games you've made me fond +of.” + +“More thanks to old Martin,” said Tom; “he's been your real friend.” + +“Nonsense, Tom; he never could have done for me what you have.” + +“Well, I don't know; I did little enough. Did they tell you--you won't +mind hearing it now, I know--that poor Thompson died last week? The +other three boys are getting quite round, like you.” + +“Oh yes, I heard of it.” + +Then Tom, who was quite full of it, told Arthur of the burial-service +in the chapel, and how it had impressed him, and, he believed, all the +other boys. “And though the Doctor never said a word about it,” said he, +“and it was a half-holiday and match-day, there wasn't a game played in +the close all the afternoon, and the boys all went about as if it were +Sunday.” + +“I'm very glad of it,” said Arthur. “But, Tom, I've had such strange +thoughts about death lately. I've never told a soul of them, not even my +mother. Sometimes I think they're wrong, but, do you know, I don't think +in my heart I could be sorry at the death of any of my friends.” + +Tom was taken quite aback. “What in the world is the young un after +now?” thought he; “I've swallowed a good many of his crotchets, but this +altogether beats me. He can't be quite right in his head.” He didn't +want to say a word, and shifted about uneasily in the dark; however, +Arthur seemed to be waiting for an answer, so at last he said, “I don't +think I quite see what you mean, Geordie. One's told so often to think +about death that I've tried it on sometimes, especially this last week. +But we won't talk of it now. I'd better go. You're getting tired, and I +shall do you harm.” + +“No, no; indeed I ain't, Tom. You must stop till nine; there's only +twenty minutes. I've settled you shall stop till nine. And oh! do let me +talk to you--I must talk to you. I see it's just as I feared. You think +I'm half mad. Don't you, now?” + +“Well, I did think it odd what you said, Geordie, as you ask me.” + +Arthur paused a moment, and then said quickly, “I'll tell you how it all +happened. At first, when I was sent to the sick-room, and found I had +really got the fever, I was terribly frightened. I thought I should +die, and I could not face it for a moment. I don't think it was sheer +cowardice at first, but I thought how hard it was to be taken away from +my mother and sisters and you all, just as I was beginning to see my way +to many things, and to feel that I might be a man and do a man's work. +To die without having fought, and worked, and given one's life away, +was too hard to bear. I got terribly impatient, and accused God of +injustice, and strove to justify myself. And the harder I strove the +deeper I sank. Then the image of my dear father often came across me, +but I turned from it. Whenever it came, a heavy, numbing throb seemed to +take hold of my heart, and say, 'Dead-dead-dead.' And I cried out, 'The +living, the living shall praise Thee, O God; the dead cannot praise +thee. There is no work in the grave; in the night no man can work. But +I can work. I can do great things. I will do great things. Why wilt thou +slay me?' And so I struggled and plunged, deeper and deeper, and went +down into a living black tomb. I was alone there, with no power to stir +or think; alone with myself; beyond the reach of all human fellowship; +beyond Christ's reach, I thought, in my nightmare. You, who are brave +and bright and strong, can have no idea of that agony. Pray to God you +never may. Pray as for your life.” + +Arthur stopped--from exhaustion, Tom thought; but what between his fear +lest Arthur should hurt himself, his awe, and his longing for him to go +on, he couldn't ask, or stir to help him. + +Presently he went on, but quite calm and slow. “I don't know how long +I was in that state--for more than a day, I know; for I was quite +conscious, and lived my outer life all the time, and took my medicines, +and spoke to my mother, and heard what they said. But I didn't take much +note of time. I thought time was over for me, and that that tomb was +what was beyond. Well, on last Sunday morning, as I seemed to lie in +that tomb, alone, as I thought, for ever and ever, the black, dead wall +was cleft in two, and I was caught up and borne through into the light +by some great power, some living, mighty spirit. Tom, do you remember +the living creatures and the wheels in Ezekiel? It was just like that. +'When they went, I heard the noise of their wings, like the noise of +great waters, as the voice of the Almighty, the voice of speech, as the +noise of an host; when they stood, they let down their wings.' 'And +they went every one straight forward: whither the spirit was to go, they +went; and they turned not when they went.' And we rushed through the +bright air, which was full of myriads of living creatures, and paused +on the brink of a great river. And the power held me up, and I knew that +that great river was the grave, and death dwelt there, but not the death +I had met in the black tomb. That, I felt, was gone for ever. For on the +other bank of the great river I saw men and women and children rising up +pure and bright, and the tears were wiped from their eyes, and they put +on glory and strength, and all weariness and pain fell away. And beyond +were a multitude which no man could number, and they worked at some +great work; and they who rose from the river went on and joined in the +work. They all worked, and each worked in a different way, but all at +the same work. And I saw there my father, and the men in the old town +whom I knew when I was a child--many a hard, stern man, who never came +to church, and whom they called atheist and infidel. There they were, +side by side with my father, whom I had seen toil and die for them, and +women and little children, and the seal was on the foreheads of all. And +I longed to see what the work was, and could not; so I tried to plunge +in the river, for I thought I would join them, but I could not. Then I +looked about to see how they got into the river. And this I could not +see, but I saw myriads on this side, and they too worked, and I knew +that it was the same work, and the same seal was on their foreheads. And +though I saw that there was toil and anguish in the work of these, and +that most that were working were blind and feeble, yet I longed no more +to plunge into the river, but more and more to know what the work was. +And as I looked I saw my mother and my sisters, and I saw the Doctor, +and you, Tom, and hundreds more whom I knew; and at last I saw myself +too, and I was toiling and doing ever so little a piece of the great +work. Then it all melted away, and the power left me, and as it left +me I thought I heard a voice say, 'The vision is for an appointed time; +though it tarry, wait for it, for in the end it shall speak and not lie, +it shall surely come, it shall not tarry.' It was early morning I know, +then--it was so quiet and cool, and my mother was fast asleep in the +chair by my bedside; but it wasn't only a dream of mine. I know it +wasn't a dream. Then I fell into a deep sleep, and only woke after +afternoon chapel; and the Doctor came and gave me the Sacrament, as I +told you. I told him and my mother I should get well--I knew I should; +but I couldn't tell them why. Tom,” said Arthur gently, after another +minute, “do you see why I could not grieve now to see my dearest friend +die? It can't be--it isn't--all fever or illness. God would never have +let me see it so clear if it wasn't true. I don't understand it all yet; +it will take me my life and longer to do that--to find out what the work +is.” + +When Arthur stopped there was a long pause. Tom could not speak; he was +almost afraid to breathe, lest he should break the train of Arthur's +thoughts. He longed to hear more, and to ask questions. In another +minute nine o'clock struck, and a gentle tap at the door called them +both back into the world again. They did not answer, however, for a +moment; and so the door opened, and a lady came in carrying a candle. + +She went straight to the sofa, and took hold of Arthur's hand, and then +stooped down and kissed him. + +“My dearest boy, you feel a little feverish again. Why didn't you have +lights? You've talked too much, and excited yourself in the dark.” + +“Oh no, mother; you can't think how well I feel. I shall start with +you to-morrow for Devonshire. But, mother, here's my friend--here's Tom +Brown. You know him?” + +“Yes, indeed; I've known him for years,” she said, and held out her +hand to Tom, who was now standing up behind the sofa. This was Arthur's +mother: tall and slight and fair, with masses of golden hair drawn back +from the broad, white forehead, and the calm blue eye meeting his so +deep and open--the eye that he knew so well, for it was his friend's +over again, and the lovely, tender mouth that trembled while he +looked--she stood there, a woman of thirty-eight, old enough to be his +mother, and one whose face showed the lines which must be written on the +faces of good men's wives and widows, but he thought he had never seen +anything so beautiful. He couldn't help wondering if Arthur's sisters +were like her. + +Tom held her hand, and looked on straight in her face; he could neither +let it go nor speak. + +“Now, Tom,” said Arthur, laughing, “where are your manners? You'll stare +my mother out of countenance.” Tom dropped the little hand with a sigh. +“There, sit down, both of you.--Here, dearest mother; there's room +here.” And he made a place on the sofa for her.--“Tom, you needn't go; +I'm sure you won't be called up at first lesson.” Tom felt that he +would risk being floored at every lesson for the rest of his natural +school-life sooner than go, so sat down. “And now,” said Arthur, “I have +realized one of the dearest wishes of my life--to see you two together.” + +And then he led away the talk to their home in Devonshire, and the +red, bright earth, and the deep green combes, and the peat streams like +cairngorm pebbles, and the wild moor with its high, cloudy tors for a +giant background to the picture, till Tom got jealous, and stood up for +the clear chalk streams, and the emerald water meadows and great elms +and willows of the dear old royal county, as he gloried to call it. And +the mother sat on quiet and loving, rejoicing in their life. The quarter +to ten struck, and the bell rang for bed, before they had well begun +their talk, as it seemed. + +Then Tom rose with a sigh to go. + +“Shall I see you in the morning, Geordie?” said he, as he shook his +friend's hand. “Never mind, though; you'll be back next half. And I +shan't forget the house of Rimmon.” + +Arthur's mother got up and walked with him to the door, and there gave +him her hand again; and again his eyes met that deep, loving look, which +was like a spell upon him. Her voice trembled slightly as she said, +“Good-night. You are one who knows what our Father has promised to the +friend of the widow and the fatherless. May He deal with you as you have +dealt with me and mine!” + +Tom was quite upset; he mumbled something about owing everything good in +him to Geordie, looked in her face again, pressed her hand to his lips, +and rushed downstairs to his study, where he sat till old Thomas came +kicking at the door, to tell him his allowance would be stopped if he +didn't go off to bed. (It would have been stopped anyhow, but that he +was a great favourite with the old gentleman, who loved to come out in +the afternoons into the close to Tom's wicket, and bowl slow twisters to +him, and talk of the glories of bygone Surrey heroes, with whom he +had played former generations.) So Tom roused himself, and took up +his candle to go to bed; and then for the first time was aware of +a beautiful new fishing-rod, with old Eton's mark on it, and a +splendidly-bound Bible, which lay on his table, on the title-page +of which was written--“TOM BROWN, from his affectionate and grateful +friends, Frances Jane Arthur; George Arthur.” + +I leave you all to guess how he slept, and what he dreamt of. + + + +CHAPTER VII--HARRY EAST'S DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES. + + “The Holy Supper is kept indeed, + In whatso we share with another's need + Not that which we give, but what we share, + For the gift without the giver is bare. + Who bestows himself with his alms feeds three, + Himself, his hungering neighbour and Me.” + --LOWELL, The Vision of Sir Launfal. + +The next morning, after breakfast, Tom, East, and Gower met as usual +to learn their second lesson together. Tom had been considering how to +break his proposal of giving up the crib to the others, and having found +no better way (as indeed none better can ever be found by man or boy), +told them simply what had happened; how he had been to see Arthur, who +had talked to him upon the subject, and what he had said, and for his +part he had made up his mind, and wasn't going to use cribs any more; +and not being quite sure of his ground, took the high and pathetic tone, +and was proceeding to say “how that, having learnt his lessons with +them for so many years, it would grieve him much to put an end to the +arrangement, and he hoped, at any rate, that if they wouldn't go on +with him, they should still be just as good friends, and respect one +another's motives; but--” + +Here the other boys, who had been listening with open eyes and ears, +burst in,-- + +“Stuff and nonsense!” cried Gower. “Here, East, get down the crib and +find the place.” + +“O Tommy, Tommy!” said East, proceeding to do as he was bidden, “that it +should ever have come to this! I knew Arthur'd be the ruin of you some +day, and you of me. And now the time's come.” And he made a doleful +face. + +“I don't know about ruin,” answered Tom; “I know that you and I would +have had the sack long ago if it hadn't been for him. And you know it as +well as I.” + +“Well, we were in a baddish way before he came, I own; but this new +crotchet of his is past a joke.” + +“Let's give it a trial, Harry; come. You know how often he has been +right and we wrong.” + +“Now, don't you two be jawing away about young Square-toes,” struck in +Gower. “He's no end of a sucking wiseacre, I dare say; but we've no time +to lose, and I've got the fives court at half-past nine.” + +“I say, Gower,” said Tom appealingly, “be a good fellow, and let's try +if we can't get on without the crib.” + +“What! in this chorus? Why, we shan't get through ten lines.” + +“I say, Tom,” cried East, having hit on a new idea, “don't you remember, +when we were in the upper fourth, and old Momus caught me construing +off the leaf of a crib which I'd torn out and put in my book, and which +would float out on to the floor, he sent me up to be flogged for it?” + +“Yes, I remember it very well.” + +“Well, the Doctor, after he'd flogged me, told me himself that he didn't +flog me for using a translation, but for taking it in to lesson, and +using it there when I hadn't learnt a word before I came in. He said +there was no harm in using a translation to get a clue to hard passages, +if you tried all you could first to make them out without.” + +“Did he, though?” said Tom; “then Arthur must be wrong.” + +“Of course he is,” said Gower--“the little prig. We'll only use the crib +when we can't construe without it.--Go ahead, East.” + +And on this agreement they started--Tom, satisfied with having made his +confession, and not sorry to have a locus penitentiae, and not to be +deprived altogether of the use of his old and faithful friend. + +The boys went on as usual, each taking a sentence in turn, and the crib +being handed to the one whose turn it was to construe. Of course +Tom couldn't object to this, as, was it not simply lying there to be +appealed to in case the sentence should prove too hard altogether for +the construer? But it must be owned that Gower and East did not make +very tremendous exertions to conquer their sentences before having +recourse to its help. Tom, however, with the most heroic virtue and +gallantry, rushed into his sentence, searching in a high-minded manner +for nominative and verb, and turning over his dictionary frantically for +the first hard word that stopped him. But in the meantime Gower, who +was bent on getting to fives, would peep quietly into the crib, and then +suggest, “Don't you think this is the meaning?” “I think you must take +it this way, Brown.” And as Tom didn't see his way to not profiting by +these suggestions, the lesson went on about as quickly as usual, and +Gower was able to start for the fives court within five minutes of the +half-hour. + +When Tom and East were left face to face, they looked at one another for +a minute, Tom puzzled, and East chokefull of fun, and then burst into a +roar of laughter. + +“Well, Tom,” said East, recovering himself, “I don t see any objection +to the new way. It's about as good as the old one, I think, besides the +advantage it gives one of feeling virtuous, and looking down on one's +neighbours.” + +Tom shoved his hand into his back hair. “I ain't so sure,” said he; “you +two fellows carried me off my legs. I don't think we really tried one +sentence fairly. Are you sure you remember what the Doctor said to you?” + +“Yes. And I'll swear I couldn't make out one of my sentences to-day--no, +nor ever could. I really don't remember,” said East, speaking slowly and +impressively, “to have come across one Latin or Greek sentence this half +that I could go and construe by the light of nature. Whereby I am sure +Providence intended cribs to be used.” + +“The thing to find out,” said Tom meditatively, “is how long one ought +to grind at a sentence without looking at the crib. Now I think if one +fairly looks out all the words one don't know, and then can't hit it, +that's enough.” + +“To be sure, Tommy,” said East demurely, but with a merry twinkle in his +eye. “Your new doctrine too, old fellow,” added he, “when one comes to +think of it, is a cutting at the root of all school morality. You'll +take away mutual help, brotherly love, or, in the vulgar tongue, giving +construes, which I hold to be one of our highest virtues. For how can +you distinguish between getting a construe from another boy and using a +crib? Hang it, Tom, if you're going to deprive all our school-fellows +of the chance of exercising Christian benevolence and being good +Samaritans, I shall cut the concern.” + +“I wish you wouldn't joke about it, Harry; it's hard enough to see one's +way--a precious sight harder than I thought last night. But I suppose +there's a use and an abuse of both, and one'll get straight enough +somehow. But you can't make out, anyhow, that one has a right to use old +vulgus-books and copy-books.” + +“Hullo, more heresy! How fast a fellow goes downhill when he once gets +his head before his legs. Listen to me, Tom. Not use old vulgus-books! +Why, you Goth, ain't we to take the benefit of the wisdom and admire and +use the work of past generations? Not use old copy-books! Why, you +might as well say we ought to pull down Westminster Abbey, and put up a +go-to-meeting shop with churchwarden windows; or never read Shakespeare, +but only Sheridan Knowles. Think of all the work and labour that our +predecessors have bestowed on these very books; and are we to make their +work of no value?” + +“I say, Harry, please don't chaff; I'm really serious.” + +“And then, is it not our duty to consult the pleasure of others rather +than our own, and above all, that of our masters? Fancy, then, the +difference to them in looking over a vulgus which has been carefully +touched and retouched by themselves and others, and which must bring +them a sort of dreamy pleasure, as if they'd met the thought +or expression of it somewhere or another--before they were born +perhaps--and that of cutting up, and making picture-frames round all +your and my false quantities, and other monstrosities. Why, Tom, you +wouldn't be so cruel as never to let old Momus hum over the 'O genus +humanum' again, and then look up doubtingly through his spectacles, and +end by smiling and giving three extra marks for it--just for old sake's +sake, I suppose.” + +“Well,” said Tom, getting up in something as like a huff as he was +capable of, “it's deuced hard that when a fellow's really trying to do +what he ought, his best friends'll do nothing but chaff him and try to +put him down.” And he stuck his books under his arm and his hat on his +head, preparatory to rushing out into the quadrangle, to testify with +his own soul of the faithlessness of friendships. + +“Now don't be an ass, Tom,” said East, catching hold of him; “you know +me well enough by this time; my bark's worse than my bite. You can't +expect to ride your new crotchet without anybody's trying to stick a +nettle under his tail and make him kick you off--especially as we shall +all have to go on foot still. But now sit down, and let's go over it +again. I'll be as serious as a judge.” + +Then Tom sat himself down on the table, and waxed eloquent about all the +righteousnesses and advantages of the new plan, as was his wont whenever +he took up anything, going into it as if his life depended upon it, and +sparing no abuse which he could think of, of the opposite method, which +he denounced as ungentlemanly, cowardly, mean, lying, and no one knows +what besides. “Very cool of Tom,” as East thought, but didn't say, +“seeing as how he only came out of Egypt himself last night at bedtime.” + +“Well, Tom,” said he at last, “you see, when you and I came to school +there were none of these sort of notions. You may be right--I dare say +you are. Only what one has always felt about the masters is, that it's +a fair trial of skill and last between us and them--like a match at +football or a battle. We're natural enemies in school--that's the fact. +We've got to learn so much Latin and Greek, and do so many verses, and +they've got to see that we do it. If we can slip the collar and do so +much less without getting caught, that's one to us. If they can get more +out of us, or catch us shirking, that's one to them. All's fair in war +but lying. If I run my luck against theirs, and go into school without +looking at my lessons, and don't get called up, why am I a snob or a +sneak? I don't tell the master I've learnt it. He's got to find out +whether I have or not. What's he paid for? If he calls me up and I get +floored, he makes me write it out in Greek and English. Very good. He's +caught me, and I don't grumble. I grant you, if I go and snivel to him, +and tell him I've really tried to learn it, but found it so hard without +a translation, or say I've had a toothache, or any humbug of that kind, +I'm a snob. That's my school morality; it's served me, and you too, Tom, +for the matter of that, these five years. And it's all clear and fair, +no mistake about it. We understand it, and they understand it, and I +don't know what we're to come to with any other.” + +Tom looked at him pleased and a little puzzled. He had never heard +East speak his mind seriously before, and couldn't help feeling how +completely he had hit his own theory and practice up to that time. + +“Thank you, old fellow,” said he. “You're a good old brick to be +serious, and not put out with me. I said more than I meant, I dare say, +only you see I know I'm right. Whatever you and Gower and the rest do, I +shall hold on. I must. And as it's all new and an uphill game, you see, +one must hit hard and hold on tight at first.” + +“Very good,” said East; “hold on and hit away, only don't hit under the +line.” + +“But I must bring you over, Harry, or I shan't be comfortable. Now, I'll +allow all you've said. We've always been honourable enemies with the +masters. We found a state of war when we came, and went into it of +course. Only don't you think things are altered a good deal? I don't +feel as I used to the masters. They seem to me to treat one quite +differently.” + +“Yes, perhaps they do,” said East; “there's a new set you see, mostly, +who don't feel sure of themselves yet. They don't want to fight till +they know the ground.” + +“I don't think it's only that,” said Tom. “And then the Doctor, he does +treat one so openly, and like a gentleman, and as if one was working +with him.” + +“Well, so he does,” said East; “he's a splendid fellow, and when I get +into the sixth I shall act accordingly. Only you know he has nothing to +do with our lessons now, except examining us. I say, though,” looking at +his watch, “it's just the quarter. Come along.” + +As they walked out they got a message, to say that Arthur was just +starting, and would like to say goodbye. So they went down to the +private entrance of the School-house, and found an open carriage, +with Arthur propped up with pillows in it, looking already better, Tom +thought. + +They jumped up on to the steps to shake hands with him, and Tom mumbled +thanks for the presents he had found in his study, and looked round +anxiously for Arthur's mother. + +East, who had fallen back into his usual humour, looked quaintly at +Arthur, and said,-- + +“So you've been at it again, through that hot-headed convert of yours +there. He's been making our lives a burden to us all the morning about +using cribs. I shall get floored to a certainty at second lesson, if I'm +called up.” + +Arthur blushed and looked down. Tom struck in,-- + +“Oh, it's all right. He's converted already; he always comes through the +mud after us, grumbling and sputtering.” + +The clock struck, and they had to go off to school, wishing Arthur a +pleasant holiday, Tom, lingering behind a moment to send his thanks and +love to Arthur's mother. + +Tom renewed the discussion after second lesson, and succeeded so far as +to get East to promise to give the new plan a fair trial. + +Encouraged by his success, in the evening, when they were sitting alone +in the large study, where East lived now almost, “vice Arthur on leave,” + after examining the new fishing-rod, which both pronounced to be the +genuine article (“play enough to throw a midge tied on a single +hair against the wind, and strength enough to hold a grampus”), they +naturally began talking about Arthur. Tom, who was still bubbling over +with last night's scene and all the thoughts of the last week, and +wanting to clinch and fix the whole in his own mind, which he could +never do without first going through the process of belabouring somebody +else with it all, suddenly rushed into the subject of Arthur's illness, +and what he had said about death. + +East had given him the desired opening. After a serio-comic grumble, +“that life wasn't worth having, now they were tied to a young beggar +who was always 'raising his standard;' and that he, East, was like a +prophet's donkey, who was obliged to struggle on after the donkey-man +who went after the prophet; that he had none of the pleasure of starting +the new crotchets, and didn't half understand them, but had to take the +kicks and carry the luggage as if he had all the fun,” he threw his legs +up on to the sofa, and put his hands behind his head, and said,-- + +“Well, after all, he's the most wonderful little fellow I ever came +across. There ain't such a meek, humble boy in the school. Hanged if +I don't think now, really, Tom, that he believes himself a much worse +fellow than you or I, and that he don't think he has more influence in +the house than Dot Bowles, who came last quarter, and isn't ten yet. But +he turns you and me round his little finger, old boy--there's no mistake +about that.” And East nodded at Tom sagaciously. + +“Now or never!” thought Tom; so, shutting his eyes and hardening his +heart, he went straight at it, repeating all that Arthur had said, as +near as he could remember it, in the very words, and all he had himself +thought. The life seemed to ooze out of it as he went on, and several +times he felt inclined to stop, give it all up, and change the subject. +But somehow he was borne on; he had a necessity upon him to speak it all +out, and did so. At the end he looked at East with some anxiety, and was +delighted to see that that young gentleman was thoughtful and attentive. +The fact is, that in the stage of his inner life at which Tom had lately +arrived, his intimacy with and friendship for East could not have lasted +if he had not made him aware of, and a sharer in, the thoughts that were +beginning to exercise him. Nor indeed could the friendship have lasted +if East had shown no sympathy with these thoughts; so that it was a +great relief to have unbosomed himself, and to have found that his +friend could listen. + +Tom had always had a sort of instinct that East's levity was only +skin-deep, and this instinct was a true one. East had no want of +reverence for anything he felt to be real; but his was one of those +natures that burst into what is generally called recklessness and +impiety the moment they feel that anything is being poured upon them for +their good which does not come home to their inborn sense of right, or +which appeals to anything like self-interest in them. Daring and +honest by nature, and outspoken to an extent which alarmed all +respectabilities, with a constant fund of animal health and spirits +which he did not feel bound to curb in any way, he had gained for +himself with the steady part of the school (including as well those who +wished to appear steady as those who really were so) the character of a +boy with whom it would be dangerous to be intimate; while his own hatred +of everything cruel, or underhand, or false, and his hearty respect for +what he would see to be good and true, kept off the rest. + +Tom, besides being very like East in many points of character, had +largely developed in his composition the capacity for taking the weakest +side. This is not putting it strongly enough: it was a necessity with +him; he couldn't help it any more than he could eating or drinking. He +could never play on the strongest side with any heart at football or +cricket, and was sure to make friends with any boy who was unpopular, or +down on his luck. + +Now, though East was not what is generally called unpopular, Tom felt +more and more every day, as their characters developed, that he +stood alone, and did not make friends among their contemporaries, and +therefore sought him out. Tom was himself much more popular, for his +power of detecting humbug was much less acute, and his instincts were +much more sociable. He was at this period of his life, too, largely +given to taking people for what they gave themselves out to be; but +his singleness of heart, fearlessness, and honesty were just what East +appreciated, and thus the two had been drawn into great intimacy. + +This intimacy had not been interrupted by Tom's guardianship of Arthur. + +East had often, as has been said, joined them in reading the Bible; but +their discussions had almost always turned upon the characters of the +men and women of whom they read, and not become personal to themselves. +In fact, the two had shrunk from personal religious discussion, not +knowing how it might end, and fearful of risking a friendship very dear +to both, and which they felt somehow, without quite knowing why, +would never be the same, but either tenfold stronger or sapped at its +foundation, after such a communing together. + +What a bother all this explaining is! I wish we could get on without +it. But we can't. However, you'll all find, if you haven't found it out +already, that a time comes in every human friendship when you must go +down into the depths of yourself, and lay bare what is there to your +friend, and wait in fear for his answer. A few moments may do it; and +it may be (most likely will be, as you are English boys) that you will +never do it but once. But done it must be, if the friendship is to be +worth the name. You must find what is there, at the very root and bottom +of one another's hearts; and if you are at one there, nothing on earth +can or at least ought to sunder you. + +East had remained lying down until Tom finished speaking, as if fearing +to interrupt him; he now sat up at the table, and leant his head on one +hand, taking up a pencil with the other, and working little holes with +it in the table-cover. After a bit he looked up, stopped the pencil, +and said, “Thank you very much, old fellow. There's no other boy in +the house would have done it for me but you or Arthur. I can see well +enough,” he went on, after a pause, “all the best big fellows look on me +with suspicion; they think I'm a devil-may-care, reckless young scamp. +So I am--eleven hours out of twelve, but not the twelfth. Then all of +our contemporaries worth knowing follow suit, of course: we're very good +friends at games and all that, but not a soul of them but you and +Arthur ever tried to break through the crust, and see whether there was +anything at the bottom of me; and then the bad ones I won't stand and +they know that.” + +“Don't you think that's half fancy, Harry?” + +“Not a bit of it,” said East bitterly, pegging away with his pencil. +“I see it all plain enough. Bless you, you think everybody's as +straightforward and kindhearted as you are.” + +“Well, but what's the reason of it? There must be a reason. You can play +all the games as well as any one and sing the best song, and are the +best company in the house. You fancy you're not liked, Harry. It's all +fancy.” + +“I only wish it was, Tom. I know I could be popular enough with all the +bad ones, but that I won't have, and the good ones won't have me.” + +“Why not?” persisted Tom; “you don't drink or swear, or get out at +night; you never bully, or cheat at lessons. If you only showed you +liked it, you'd have all the best fellows in the house running after +you.” + +“Not I,” said East. Then with an effort he went on, “I'll tell you what +it is. I never stop the Sacrament. I can see, from the Doctor downwards, +how that tells against me.” + +“Yes, I've seen that,” said Tom, “and I've been very sorry for it, and +Arthur and I have talked about it. I've often thought of speaking to +you, but it's so hard to begin on such subjects. I'm very glad you've +opened it. Now, why don't you?” + +“I've never been confirmed,” said East. + +“Not been confirmed!” said Tom, in astonishment. “I never thought of +that. Why weren't you confirmed with the rest of us nearly three years +ago? I always thought you'd been confirmed at home.” + +“No,” answered East sorrowfully; “you see this was how it happened. Last +Confirmation was soon after Arthur came, and you were so taken up with +him I hardly saw either of you. Well, when the Doctor sent round for us +about it, I was living mostly with Green's set. You know the sort. They +all went in. I dare say it was all right, and they got good by it; I +don't want to judge them. Only all I could see of their reasons drove me +just the other way. 'Twas 'because the Doctor liked it;' 'no boy got +on who didn't stay the Sacrament;' it was the 'correct thing,' in fact, +like having a good hat to wear on Sundays. I couldn't stand it. I didn't +feel that I wanted to lead a different life. I was very well content +as I was, and I wasn't going to sham religious to curry favour with the +Doctor, or any one else.” + +East stopped speaking, and pegged away more diligently than ever with +his pencil. Tom was ready to cry. He felt half sorry at first that he +had been confirmed himself. He seemed to have deserted his earliest +friend--to have left him by himself at his worst need for those long +years. He got up and went and sat by East, and put his arm over his +shoulder. + +“Dear old boy,” he said, “how careless and selfish I've been. But why +didn't you come and talk to Arthur and me?” + +“I wish to Heaven I had,” said East, “but I was a fool. It's too late +talking of it now.” + +“Why too late? You want to be confirmed now, don't you?” + +“I think so,” said East. “I've thought about it a good deal; only, often +I fancy I must be changing, because I see it's to do me good here--just +what stopped me last time. And then I go back again.” + +“I'll tell you now how 'twas with me,” said Tom warmly. “If it hadn't +been for Arthur, I should have done just as you did. I hope I should. I +honour you for it. But then he made it out just as if it was taking the +weak side before all the world--going in once for all against everything +that's strong and rich, and proud and respectable, a little band of +brothers against the whole world. And the Doctor seemed to say so too, +only he said a great deal more.” + +“Ah!” groaned East, “but there again, that's just another of my +difficulties whenever I think about the matter. I don't want to be one +of your saints, one of your elect, whatever the right phrase is. My +sympathies are all the other way--with the many, the poor devils who run +about the streets and don't go to church. Don't stare, Tom; mind, I'm +telling you all that's in my heart--as far as I know it--but it's all a +muddle. You must be gentle with me if you want to land me. Now I've seen +a deal of this sort of religion; I was bred up in it, and I can't stand +it. If nineteen-twentieths of the world are to be left to uncovenanted +mercies, and that sort of thing, which means in plain English to go to +hell, and the other twentieth are to rejoice at it all, why--” + +“Oh! but, Harry, they ain't, they don't,” broke in Tom, really shocked. +“Oh, how I wish Arthur hadn't gone! I'm such a fool about these things. +But it's all you want too, East; it is indeed. It cuts both ways +somehow, being confirmed and taking the Sacrament. It makes you feel on +the side of all the good and all the bad too, of everybody in the world. +Only there's some great dark strong power, which is crushing you and +everybody else. That's what Christ conquered, and we've got to fight. +What a fool I am! I can't explain. If Arthur were only here!” + +“I begin to get a glimmering of what you mean,” said East. + +“I say, now,” said Tom eagerly, “do you remember how we both hated +Flashman?” + +“Of course I do,” said East; “I hate him still. What then?” + +“Well, when I came to take the Sacrament, I had a great struggle about +that. I tried to put him out of my head; and when I couldn't do that, I +tried to think of him as evil--as something that the Lord who was loving +me hated, and which I might hate too. But it wouldn't do. I broke down; +I believe Christ Himself broke me down. And when the Doctor gave me the +bread and wine, and leant over me praying, I prayed for poor Flashman, +as if it had been you or Arthur.” + +East buried his face in his hands on the table. Tom could feel the table +tremble. At last he looked up. “Thank you again, Tom,” said he; “you +don't know what you may have done for me to-night. I think I see now how +the right sort of sympathy with poor devils is got at.” + +“And you'll stop the Sacrament next time, won't you?” said Tom. + +“Can I, before I'm confirmed?” + +“Go and ask the Doctor.” + +“I will.” + +That very night, after prayers, East followed the Doctor, and the old +verger bearing the candle, upstairs. Tom watched, and saw the Doctor +turn round when he heard footsteps following him closer than usual, and +say, “Hah, East! Do you want to speak to me, my man?” + +“If you please, sir.” And the private door closed, and Tom went to his +study in a state of great trouble of mind. + +It was almost an hour before East came back. Then he rushed in +breathless. + +“Well, it's all right,” he shouted, seizing Tom by the hand. “I feel as +if a ton weight were off my mind.” + +“Hurrah,” said Tom. “I knew it would be; but tell us all about it.” + +“Well, I just told him all about it. You can't think how kind and gentle +he was, the great grim man, whom I've feared more than anybody on earth. +When I stuck, he lifted me just as if I'd been a little child. And he +seemed to know all I'd felt, and to have gone through it all. And I +burst out crying--more than I've done this five years; and he sat down +by me, and stroked my head; and I went blundering on, and told him +all--much worse things than I've told you. And he wasn't shocked a bit, +and didn't snub me, or tell me I was a fool, and it was all nothing but +pride or wickedness, though I dare say it was. And he didn't tell me +not to follow out my thoughts, and he didn't give me any cut-and-dried +explanation. But when I'd done he just talked a bit. I can hardly +remember what he said yet; but it seemed to spread round me like +healing, and strength, and light, and to bear me up, and plant me on a +rock, where I could hold my footing and fight for myself. I don't know +what to do, I feel so happy. And it's all owing to you, dear old boy!” + And he seized Tom's hand again. + +“And you're to come to the Communion?” said Tom. + +“Yes, and to be confirmed in the holidays.” + +Tom's delight was as great as his friend's. But he hadn't yet had +out all his own talk, and was bent on improving the occasion: so he +proceeded to propound Arthur's theory about not being sorry for his +friends' deaths, which he had hitherto kept in the background, and by +which he was much exercised; for he didn't feel it honest to take what +pleased him, and throw over the rest, and was trying vigorously to +persuade himself that he should like all his best friends to die +off-hand. + +But East's powers of remaining serious were exhausted, and in five +minutes he was saying the most ridiculous things he could think of, till +Tom was almost getting angry again. + +Despite of himself, however, he couldn't help laughing and giving it up, +when East appealed to him with, “Well, Tom, you ain't going to punch my +head, I hope, because I insist upon being sorry when you got to earth?” + +And so their talk finished for that time, and they tried to learn first +lesson, with very poor success, as appeared next morning, when they were +called up and narrowly escaped being floored, which ill-luck, however, +did not sit heavily on either of their souls. + + + +CHAPTER VIII--TOM BROWN'S LAST MATCH. + + “Heaven grant the manlier heart, that timely ere + Youth fly, with life's real tempest would be coping; + The fruit of dreamy hoping + Is, waking, blank despair.”--CLOUGH, Ambarvalia. + +The curtain now rises upon the last act of our little drama, for +hard-hearted publishers warn me that a single volume must of necessity +have an end. Well, well! the pleasantest things must come to an end. +I little thought last long vacation, when I began these pages to help +while away some spare time at a watering-place, how vividly many an old +scene which had lain hid away for years in some dusty old corner of my +brain, would come back again, and stand before me as clear and bright as +if it had happened yesterday. The book has been a most grateful task +to me, and I only hope that all you, my dear young friends, who read it +(friends assuredly you must be, if you get as far as this), will be half +as sorry to come to the last stage as I am. + +Not but what there has been a solemn and a sad side to it. As the old +scenes became living, and the actors in them became living too, many +a grave in the Crimea and distant India, as well as in the quiet +churchyards of our dear old country, seemed to open and send forth their +dead, and their voices and looks and ways were again in one's ears and +eyes, as in the old School-days. But this was not sad. How should it be, +if we believe as our Lord has taught us? How should it be, when one more +turn of the wheel, and we shall be by their sides again, learning from +them again, perhaps, as we did when we were new boys. + +Then there were others of the old faces so dear to us once who had +somehow or another just gone clean out of sight. Are they dead or +living? We know not, but the thought of them brings no sadness with it. +Wherever they are, we can well believe they are doing God's work and +getting His wages. + +But are there not some, whom we still see sometimes in the streets, +whose haunts and homes we know, whom we could probably find almost any +day in the week if we were set to do it, yet from whom we are really +farther than we are from the dead, and from those who have gone out of +our ken? Yes, there are and must be such; and therein lies the sadness +of old School memories. Yet of these our old comrades, from whom more +than time and space separate us, there are some by whose sides we can +feel sure that we shall stand again when time shall be no more. We may +think of one another now as dangerous fanatics or narrow bigots, with +whom no truce is possible, from whom we shall only sever more and more +to the end of our lives, whom it would be our respective duties to +imprison or hang, if we had the power. We must go our way, and they +theirs, as long as flesh and spirit hold together; but let our own Rugby +poet speak words of healing for this trial:-- + + “To veer how vain! on, onward strain, + Brave barks, in light, in darkness too; + Through winds and tides one compass guides,-- + To that, and your own selves, be true. + + “But, O blithe breeze, and O great seas, + Though ne'er that earliest parting past, + On your wide plain they join again; + Together lead them home at last. + + “One port, methought, alike they sought, + One purpose hold where'er they fare. + O bounding breeze, O rushing seas, + At last, at last, unite them there!” * + + + * Clough, Ambarvalia. + +This is not mere longing; it is prophecy. So over these too, our old +friends, who are friends no more, we sorrow not as men without hope. It +is only for those who seem to us to have lost compass and purpose, and +to be driven helplessly on rocks and quicksands, whose lives are spent +in the service of the world, the flesh, and the devil, for self alone, +and not for their fellow-men, their country, or their God, that we must +mourn and pray without sure hope and without light, trusting only that +He, in whose hands they as well as we are, who has died for them as well +as for us, who sees all His creatures + + “With larger other eyes than ours, + To make allowance for us all,” + +will, in His own way and at His own time, lead them also home. + +Another two years have passed, and it is again the end of the summer +half-year at Rugby; in fact, the School has broken up. The fifth-form +examinations were over last week, and upon them have followed the +speeches, and the sixth-form examinations for exhibitions; and they too +are over now. The boys have gone to all the winds of heaven, except the +town boys and the eleven, and the few enthusiasts besides who have asked +leave to stay in their houses to see the result of the cricket matches. +For this year the Wellesburn return match and the Marylebone match are +played at Rugby, to the great delight of the town and neighbourhood, and +the sorrow of those aspiring young cricketers who have been reckoning +for the last three months on showing off at Lord's ground. + +The Doctor started for the Lakes yesterday morning, after an interview +with the captain of the eleven, in the presence of Thomas, at which he +arranged in what school the cricket dinners were to be, and all other +matters necessary for the satisfactory carrying out of the festivities, +and warned them as to keeping all spirituous liquors out of the close, +and having the gates closed by nine o'clock. + +The Wellesburn match was played out with great success yesterday, the +School winning by three wickets; and to-day the great event of the +cricketing year, the Marylebone match, is being played. What a match it +has been! The London eleven came down by an afternoon train yesterday, +in time to see the end of the Wellesburn match; and as soon as it was +over, their leading men and umpire inspected the ground, criticising it +rather unmercifully. The captain of the School eleven, and one or +two others, who had played the Lord's match before, and knew old Mr. +Aislabie and several of the Lord's men, accompanied them; while the rest +of the eleven looked on from under the Three Trees with admiring eyes, +and asked one another the names of the illustrious strangers, and +recounted how many runs each of them had made in the late matches in +Bell's Life. They looked such hard-bitten, wiry, whiskered fellows that +their young adversaries felt rather desponding as to the result of the +morrow's match. The ground was at last chosen, and two men set to work +upon it to water and roll; and then, there being yet some half-hour of +daylight, some one had suggested a dance on the turf. The close was +half full of citizens and their families, and the idea was hailed +with enthusiasm. The cornopean player was still on the ground. In five +minutes the eleven and half a dozen of the Wellesburn and Marylebone men +got partners somehow or another, and a merry country-dance was going on, +to which every one flocked, and new couples joined in every minute, till +there were a hundred of them going down the middle and up again; and the +long line of school buildings looked gravely down on them, every window +glowing with the last rays of the western sun; and the rooks clanged +about in the tops of the old elms, greatly excited, and resolved on +having their country-dance too; and the great flag flapped lazily in the +gentle western breeze. Altogether it was a sight which would have made +glad the heart of our brave old founder, Lawrence Sheriff, if he were +half as good a fellow as I take him to have been. It was a cheerful +sight to see. But what made it so valuable in the sight of the captain +of the School eleven was that he there saw his young hands shaking +off their shyness and awe of the Lord's men, as they crossed hands and +capered about on the grass together; for the strangers entered into +it all, and threw away their cigars, and danced and shouted like boys; +while old Mr. Aislabie stood by looking on in his white hat, leaning on +a bat, in benevolent enjoyment. “This hop will be worth thirty runs to +us to-morrow, and will be the making of Raggles and Johnson,” thinks the +young leader, as he revolves many things in his mind, standing by the +side of Mr. Aislabie, whom he will not leave for a minute, for he +feels that the character of the School for courtesy is resting on his +shoulders. + +But when a quarter to nine struck, and he saw old Thomas beginning +to fidget about with the keys in his hand, he thought of the Doctor's +parting monition, and stopped the cornopean at once, notwithstanding the +loud-voiced remonstrances from all sides; and the crowd scattered away +from the close, the eleven all going into the School-house, where supper +and beds were provided for them by the Doctor's orders. + +Deep had been the consultations at supper as to the order of going in, +who should bowl the first over, whether it would be best to play steady +or freely; and the youngest hands declared that they shouldn't be a +bit nervous, and praised their opponents as the jolliest fellows in the +world, except perhaps their old friends the Wellesburn men. How far +a little good-nature from their elders will go with the right sort of +boys! + +The morning had dawned bright and warm, to the intense relief of many +an anxious youngster, up betimes to mark the signs of the weather. The +eleven went down in a body before breakfast, for a plunge in the cold +bath in a corner of the close. The ground was in splendid order, and +soon after ten o'clock, before spectators had arrived, all was ready, +and two of the Lord's men took their places at the wickets--the School, +with the usual liberality of young hands, having put their adversaries +in first. Old Bailey stepped up to the wicket, and called play, and the +match has begun. + +“Oh, well bowled! well bowled, Johnson!” cries the captain, catching +up the ball and sending it high above the rook trees, while the third +Marylebone man walks away from the wicket, and old Bailey gravely sets +up the middle stump again and puts the bails on. + +“How many runs?” Away scamper three boys to the scoring table, and are +back again in a minute amongst the rest of the eleven, who are collected +together in a knot between wicket. “Only eighteen runs, and three +wickets down!” “Huzza for old Rugby!” sings out Jack Raggles, the +long-stop, toughest and burliest of boys, commonly called “Swiper Jack,” + and forthwith stands on his head, and brandishes his legs in the air +in triumph, till the next boy catches hold of his heels, and throws him +over on to his back. + +“Steady there; don't be such an ass, Jack,” says the captain; “we +haven't got the best wicket yet. Ah, look out now at cover-point,” adds +he, as he sees a long-armed bare-headed, slashing-looking player coming +to the wicket. “And, Jack, mind your hits. He steals more runs than any +man in England.” + +And they all find that they have got their work to do now. The +newcomer's off-hitting is tremendous, and his running like a flash of +lightning. He is never in his ground except when his wicket is down. +Nothing in the whole game so trying to boys. He has stolen three byes in +the first ten minutes, and Jack Raggles is furious, and begins throwing +over savagely to the farther wicket, until he is sternly stopped by the +captain. It is all that young gentlemen can do to keep his team steady, +but he knows that everything depends on it, and faces his work bravely. +The score creeps up to fifty; the boys begin to look blank; and the +spectators, who are now mustering strong, are very silent. The ball +flies off his bat to all parts of the field, and he gives no rest and +no catches to any one. But cricket is full of glorious chances, and +the goddess who presides over it loves to bring down the most skilful +players. Johnson, the young bowler, is getting wild, and bowls a ball +almost wide to the off; the batter steps out and cuts it beautifully to +where cover-point is standing very deep--in fact almost off the ground. +The ball comes skimming and twisting along about three feet from the +ground; he rushes at it, and it sticks somehow or other in the fingers +of his left hand, to the utter astonishment of himself and the whole +field. Such a catch hasn't been made in the close for years, and the +cheering is maddening. “Pretty cricket,” says the captain, throwing +himself on the ground by the deserted wicket with a long breath. He +feels that a crisis has passed. + +I wish I had space to describe the match--how the captain stumped the +next man off a leg-shooter, and bowled small cobs to old Mr. Aislabie, +who came in for the last wicket; how the Lord's men were out by +half-past twelve o'clock for ninety-eight runs; how the captain of +the School eleven went in first to give his men pluck, and scored +twenty-five in beautiful style; how Rugby was only four behind in +the first innings; what a glorious dinner they had in the fourth-form +school; and how the cover-point hitter sang the most topping comic +songs, and old Mr. Aislabie made the best speeches that ever were heard, +afterwards. But I haven't space--that's the fact; and so you must fancy +it all, and carry yourselves on to half-past seven o'clock, when the +School are again in, with five wickets down, and only thirty-two runs +to make to win. The Marylebone men played carelessly in their second +innings, but they are working like horses now to save the match. + +There is much healthy, hearty, happy life scattered up and down the +close; but the group to which I beg to call your especial attention +is there, on the slope of the island, which looks towards the +cricket-ground. It consists of three figures; two are seated on a bench, +and one on the ground at their feet. The first, a tall, slight and +rather gaunt man, with a bushy eyebrow and a dry, humorous smile, is +evidently a clergyman. He is carelessly dressed, and looks rather used +up, which isn't much to be wondered at, seeing that he has just finished +six weeks of examination work; but there he basks, and spreads himself +out in the evening sun, bent on enjoying life, though he doesn't quite +know what to do with his arms and legs. Surely it is our friend the +young master, whom we have had glimpses of before, but his face has +gained a great deal since we last came across him. + +And by his side, in white flannel shirt and trousers, straw hat, the +captain's belt, and the untanned yellow cricket shoes which all the +eleven wear, sits a strapping figure, near six feet high, with ruddy, +tanned face and whiskers, curly brown hair, and a laughing, dancing eye. +He is leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, and dandling +his favourite bat, with which he has made thirty or forty runs to-day, +in his strong brown hands. It is Tom Brown, grown into a young man +nineteen years old, a praepostor and captain of the eleven, spending +his last day as a Rugby boy, and, let us hope, as much wiser as he is +bigger, since we last had the pleasure of coming across him. + +And at their feet on the warm, dry ground, similarly dressed, sits +Arthur, Turkish fashion, with his bat across his knees. He too is no +longer a boy--less of a boy, in fact, than Tom, if one may judge from +the thoughtfulness of his face, which is somewhat paler, too, than one +could wish; but his figure, though slight, is well knit and active, and +all his old timidity has disappeared, and is replaced by silent, quaint +fun, with which his face twinkles all over, as he listens to the broken +talk between the other two, in which he joins every now and then. + +All three are watching the game eagerly, and joining in the cheering +which follows every good hit. It is pleasing to see the easy, friendly +footing which the pupils are on with their master, perfectly respectful, +yet with no reserve and nothing forced in their intercourse. Tom has +clearly abandoned the old theory of “natural enemies” in this case at +any rate. + +But it is time to listen to what they are saying, and see what we can +gather out of it. + +“I don't object to your theory,” says the master, “and I allow you have +made a fair case for yourself. But now, in such books as Aristophanes, +for instance, you've been reading a play this half with the Doctor, +haven't you?” + +“Yes, the Knights,” answered Tom. + +“Well, I'm sure you would have enjoyed the wonderful humour of it twice +as much if you had taken more pains with your scholarship.” + +“Well, sir, I don't believe any boy in the form enjoyed the sets-to +between Cleon and the Sausage-seller more than I did--eh, Arthur?” said +Tom, giving him a stir with his foot. + +“Yes, I must say he did,” said Arthur. “I think, sir, you've hit upon +the wrong book there.” + +“Not a bit of it,” said the master. “Why, in those very passages of +arms, how can you thoroughly appreciate them unless you are master of +the weapons? and the weapons are the language, which you, Brown, have +never half worked at; and so, as I say, you must have lost all the +delicate shades of meaning which make the best part of the fun.” + +“Oh, well played! bravo, Johnson!” shouted Arthur, dropping his bat and +clapping furiously, and Tom joined in with a “Bravo, Johnson!” which +might have been heard at the chapel. + +“Eh! what was it? I didn't see,” inquired the master. “They only got one +run, I thought?” + +“No, but such a ball, three-quarters length, and coming straight for his +leg bail. Nothing but that turn of the wrist could have saved him, and +he drew it away to leg for a safe one.--Bravo, Johnson!” + +“How well they are bowling, though,” said Arthur; “they don't mean to be +beat, I can see.” + +“There now,” struck in the master; “you see that's just what I have been +preaching this half-hour. The delicate play is the true thing. I don't +understand cricket, so I don't enjoy those fine draws which you tell me +are the best play, though when you or Raggles hit a ball hard away for +six I am as delighted as any one. Don't you see the analogy?” + +“Yes, sir,” answered Tom, looking up roguishly, “I see; only the +question remains whether I should have got most good by understanding +Greek particles or cricket thoroughly. I'm such a thick, I never should +have had time for both.” + +“I see you are an incorrigible,” said the master, with a chuckle; “but +I refute you by an example. Arthur there has taken in Greek and cricket +too.” + +“Yes, but no thanks to him; Greek came natural to him. Why, when he +first came I remember he used to read Herodotus for pleasure as I did +Don Quixote, and couldn't have made a false concord if he'd tried ever +so hard; and then I looked after his cricket.” + +“Out! Bailey has given him out. Do you see, Tom?” cries Arthur. “How +foolish of them to run so hard.” + +“Well, it can't be helped; he has played very well. Whose turn is it to +go in?” + +“I don't know; they've got your list in the tent.” + +“Let's go and see,” said Tom, rising; but at this moment Jack Raggles +and two or three more came running to the island moat. + +“O Brown, mayn't I go in next?” shouts the Swiper. + +“Whose name is next on the list?” says the captain. + +“Winter's, and then Arthur's,” answers the boy who carries it; “but +there are only twenty-six runs to get, and no time to lose. I heard +Mr. Aislabie say that the stumps must be drawn at a quarter past eight +exactly.” + +“Oh, do let the Swiper go in,” chorus the boys; so Tom yields against +his better judgment. + +“I dare say now I've lost the match by this nonsense,” he says, as he +sits down again; “they'll be sure to get Jack's wicket in three or four +minutes; however, you'll have the chance, sir, of seeing a hard hit or +two,” adds he, smiling, and turning to the master. + +“Come, none of your irony, Brown,” answers the master. “I'm beginning to +understand the game scientifically. What a noble game it is, too!” + +“Isn't it? But it's more than a game. It's an institution,” said Tom. + +“Yes,” said Arthur--“the birthright of British boys old and young, as +habeas corpus and trial by jury are of British men.” + +“The discipline and reliance on one another which it teaches is +so valuable, I think,” went on the master, “it ought to be such an +unselfish game. It merges the individual in the eleven; he doesn't play +that he may win, but that his side may.” + +“That's very true,” said Tom, “and that's why football and cricket, +now one comes to think of it, are such much better games than fives or +hare-and-hounds, or any others where the object is to come in first or +to win for oneself, and not that one's side may win.” + +“And then the captain of the eleven!” said the master; “what a post is +his in our School-world! almost as hard as the Doctor's--requiring skill +and gentleness and firmness, and I know not what other rare qualities.” + +“Which don't he may wish he may get!” said Tom, laughing; “at any rate +he hasn't got them yet, or he wouldn't have been such a flat to-night as +to let Jack Raggles go in out of his turn.” + +“Ah, the Doctor never would have done that,” said Arthur demurely. “Tom, +you've a great deal to learn yet in the art of ruling.” + +“Well, I wish you'd tell the Doctor so then, and get him to let me stop +till I'm twenty. I don't want to leave, I'm sure.” + +“What a sight it is,” broke in the master, “the Doctor as a ruler! +Perhaps ours is the only little corner of the British Empire which +is thoroughly, wisely, and strongly ruled just now. I'm more and more +thankful every day of my life that I came here to be under him.” + +“So am I, I'm sure,” said Tom, “and more and more sorry that I've got to +leave.” + +“Every place and thing one sees here reminds one of some wise act of +his,” went on the master. “This island now--you remember the time, +Brown, when it was laid out in small gardens, and cultivated by +frost-bitten fags in February and March?” + +“Of course I do,” said Tom; “didn't I hate spending two hours in the +afternoon grubbing in the tough dirt with the stump of a fives bat? But +turf-cart was good fun enough.” + +“I dare say it was, but it was always leading to fights with the +townspeople; and then the stealing flowers out of all the gardens in +Rugby for the Easter show was abominable.” + +“Well, so it was,” said Tom, looking down, “but we fags couldn't help +ourselves. But what has that to do with the Doctor's ruling?” + +“A great deal, I think,” said the master; “what brought island-fagging +to an end?” + +“Why, the Easter speeches were put off till midsummer,” said Tom, “and +the sixth had the gymnastic poles put up here.” + +“Well, and who changed the time of the speeches, and put the idea of +gymnastic poles into the heads of their worships the sixth form?” said +the master. + +“The Doctor, I suppose,” said Tom. “I never thought of that.” + +“Of course you didn't,” said the master, “or else, fag as you were, +you would have shouted with the whole school against putting down old +customs. And that's the way that all the Doctor's reforms have been +carried out when he has been left to himself--quietly and naturally, +putting a good thing in the place of a bad, and letting the bad die out; +no wavering, and no hurry--the best thing that could be done for the +time being, and patience for the rest.” + +“Just Tom's own way,” chimed in Arthur, nudging Tom with his +elbow--“driving a nail where it will go;” to which allusion Tom answered +by a sly kick. + +“Exactly so,” said the master, innocent of the allusion and by-play. + +Meantime Jack Raggles, with his sleeves tucked up above his great brown +elbows, scorning pads and gloves, has presented himself at the wicket; +and having run one for a forward drive of Johnson's, is about to receive +his first ball. There are only twenty-four runs to make, and four +wickets to go down--a winning match if they play decently steady. The +ball is a very swift one, and rises fast, catching Jack on the outside +of the thigh, and bounding away as if from india-rubber, while they +run two for a leg-bye amidst great applause and shouts from Jack's many +admirers. The next ball is a beautifully-pitched ball for the outer +stump, which the reckless and unfeeling Jack catches hold of, and hits +right round to leg for five, while the applause becomes deafening. Only +seventeen runs to get with four wickets! The game is all but ours! + +It is over now, and Jack walks swaggering about his wicket, with his bat +over his shoulder, while Mr. Aislabie holds a short parley with his +men. Then the cover-point hitter, that cunning man, goes on to bowl slow +twisters. Jack waves his hand triumphantly towards the tent, as much as +to say, “See if I don't finish it all off now in three hits.” + +Alas, my son Jack, the enemy is too old for thee. The first ball of the +over Jack steps out and meets, swiping with all his force. If he had +only allowed for the twist! But he hasn't, and so the ball goes spinning +up straight in the air, as if it would never come down again. Away runs +Jack, shouting and trusting to the chapter of accidents; but the bowler +runs steadily under it, judging every spin, and calling out, “I have +it,” catches it, and playfully pitches it on to the back of the stalwart +Jack, who is departing with a rueful countenance. + +“I knew how it would be,” says Tom, rising. “Come along; the game's +getting very serious.” + +So they leave the island and go to the tent; and after deep +consultation, Arthur is sent in, and goes off to the wicket with a last +exhortation from Tom to play steady and keep his bat straight. To the +suggestions that Winter is the best bat left, Tom only replies, “Arthur +is the steadiest, and Johnson will make the runs if the wicket is only +kept up.” + +“I am surprised to see Arthur in the eleven,” said the master, as they +stood together in front of the dense crowd, which was now closing in +round the ground. + +“Well, I'm not quite sure that he ought to be in for his play,” said +Tom, “but I couldn't help putting him in. It will do him so much good, +and you can't think what I owe him.” + +The master smiled. The clock strikes eight, and the whole field becomes +fevered with excitement. Arthur, after two narrow escapes, scores one, +and Johnson gets the ball. The bowling and fielding are superb, and +Johnson's batting worthy the occasion. He makes here a two, and there a +one, managing to keep the ball to himself, and Arthur backs up and runs +perfectly. Only eleven runs to make now, and the crowd scarcely breathe. +At last Arthur gets the ball again, and actually drives it forward +for two, and feels prouder than when he got the three best prizes, at +hearing Tom's shout of joy, “Well played, well played, young un!” + +But the next ball is too much for the young hand, and his bails fly +different ways. Nine runs to make, and two wickets to go down: it is too +much for human nerves. + +Before Winter can get in, the omnibus which is to take the Lord's men +to the train pulls up at the side of the close, and Mr. Aislabie and Tom +consult, and give out that the stumps will be drawn after the next over. +And so ends the great match. Winter and Johnson carry out their bats, +and, it being a one day's match, the Lord's men are declared the +winners, they having scored the most in the first innings. + +But such a defeat is a victory: so think Tom and all the School eleven, +as they accompany their conquerors to the omnibus, and send them off +with three ringing cheers, after Mr. Aislabie has shaken hands all +round, saying to Tom, “I must compliment you, sir, on your eleven, and I +hope we shall have you for a member if you come up to town.” + +As Tom and the rest of the eleven were turning back into the close, and +everybody was beginning to cry out for another country-dance, encouraged +by the success of the night before, the young master, who was just +leaving the close, stopped him, and asked him to come up to tea at +half-past eight, adding, “I won't keep you more than half an hour, and +ask Arthur to come up too.” + +“I'll come up with you directly, if you'll let me,” said Tom, “for I +feel rather melancholy, and not quite up to the country-dance and supper +with the rest.” + +“Do, by all means,” said the master; “I'll wait here for you.” + +So Tom went off to get his boots and things from the tent, to tell +Arthur of the invitation, and to speak to his second in command about +stopping the dancing and shutting up the close as soon as it grew dusk. +Arthur promised to follow as soon as he had had a dance. So Tom handed +his things over to the man in charge of the tent, and walked quietly +away to the gate where the master was waiting, and the two took their +way together up the Hillmorton road. + +Of course they found the master's house locked up, and all the servants +away in the close--about this time, no doubt, footing it away on the +grass, with extreme delight to themselves, and in utter oblivion of the +unfortunate bachelor their master, whose one enjoyment in the shape +of meals was his “dish of tea” (as our grandmothers called it) in the +evening; and the phrase was apt in his case, for he always poured his +out into the saucer before drinking. Great was the good man's horror at +finding himself shut out of his own house. Had he been alone he +would have treated it as a matter of course, and would have strolled +contentedly up and down his gravel walk until some one came home; but he +was hurt at the stain on his character of host, especially as the guest +was a pupil. However, the guest seemed to think it a great joke, and +presently, as they poked about round the house, mounted a wall, from +which he could reach a passage window. The window, as it turned out, was +not bolted, so in another minute Tom was in the house and down at the +front door, which he opened from inside. The master chuckled grimly at +this burglarious entry, and insisted on leaving the hall-door and two +of the front windows open, to frighten the truants on their return; and +then the two set about foraging for tea, in which operation the master +was much at fault, having the faintest possible idea of where to find +anything, and being, moreover, wondrously short-sighted; but Tom, by a +sort of instinct, knew the right cupboards in the kitchen and pantry, +and soon managed to place on the snuggery table better materials for a +meal than had appeared there probably during the reign of his tutor, who +was then and there initiated, amongst other things, into the excellence +of that mysterious condiment, a dripping-cake. The cake was newly baked, +and all rich and flaky; Tom had found it reposing in the cook's private +cupboard, awaiting her return; and as a warning to her they finished +it to the last crumb. The kettle sang away merrily on the hob of the +snuggery, for, notwithstanding the time of year, they lighted a fire, +throwing both the windows wide open at the same time; the heaps of books +and papers were pushed away to the other end of the table, and the great +solitary engraving of King's College Chapel over the mantelpiece looked +less stiff than usual, as they settled themselves down in the twilight +to the serious drinking of tea. + +After some talk on the match, and other indifferent subjects, the +conversation came naturally back to Tom's approaching departure, over +which he began again to make his moan. + +“Well, we shall all miss you quite as much as you will miss us,” said +the master. “You are the Nestor of the School now, are you not?” + +“Yes, ever since East left,” answered Tom. “By-the-bye, have you heard +from him?” + +“Yes, I had a letter in February, just before he started for India to +join his regiment.” + +“He will make a capital officer.” + +“Ay, won't he!” said Tom, brightening. “No fellow could handle boys +better, and I suppose soldiers are very like boys. And he'll never tell +them to go where he won't go himself. No mistake about that. A braver +fellow never walked.” + +“His year in the sixth will have taught him a good deal that will be +useful to him now.” + +“So it will,”' said Tom, staring into the fire. “Poor dear Harry,” he +went on--“how well I remember the day we were put out of the twenty! How +he rose to the situation, and burnt his cigar-cases, and gave away his +pistols, and pondered on the constitutional authority of the sixth, and +his new duties to the Doctor, and the fifth form, and the fags! Ay, and +no fellow ever acted up to them better, though he was always a people's +man--for the fags, and against constituted authorities. He couldn't +help that, you know. I'm sure the Doctor must have liked him?” said Tom, +looking up inquiringly. + +“The Doctor sees the good in every one, and appreciates it,” said the +master dogmatically; “but I hope East will get a good colonel. He won't +do if he can't respect those above him. How long it took him, even here, +to learn the lesson of obeying!” + +“Well, I wish I were alongside of him,” said Tom. “If I can't be at +Rugby, I want to be at work in the world, and not dawdling away three +years at Oxford.” + +“What do you mean by 'at work in the world'?” said the master, pausing +with his lips close to his saucerful of tea, and peering at Tom over it. + +“Well, I mean real work--one's profession--whatever one will have really +to do and make one's living by. I want to be doing some real good, +feeling that I am not only at play in the world,” answered Tom, rather +puzzled to find out himself what he really did mean. + +“You are mixing up two very different things in your head, I think, +Brown,” said the master, putting down the empty saucer, “and you ought +to get clear about them. You talk of 'working to get your living,' and +'doing some real good in the world,' in the same breath. Now, you may be +getting a very good living in a profession, and yet doing no good at all +in the world, but quite the contrary, at the same time. Keep the latter +before you as your one object, and you will be right, whether you make +a living or not; but if you dwell on the other, you'll very likely drop +into mere money-making, and let the world take care of itself for good +or evil. Don't be in a hurry about finding your work in the world for +yourself--you are not old enough to judge for yourself yet; but just +look about you in the place you find yourself in, and try to make things +a little better and honester there. You'll find plenty to keep your hand +in at Oxford, or wherever else you go. And don't be led away to think +this part of the world important and that unimportant. Every corner of +the world is important. No man knows whether this part or that is most +so, but every man may do some honest work in his own corner.” And then +the good man went on to talk wisely to Tom of the sort of work which +he might take up as an undergraduate, and warned him of the prevalent +university sins, and explained to him the many and great differences +between university and school life, till the twilight changed into +darkness, and they heard the truant servants stealing in by the back +entrance. + +“I wonder where Arthur can be,” said Tom at last, looking at his watch; +“why, it's nearly half-past nine already.” + +“Oh, he is comfortably at supper with the eleven, forgetful of his +oldest friends,” said the master. “Nothing has given me greater +pleasure,” he went on, “than your friendship for him; it has been the +making of you both.” + +“Of me, at any rate,” answered Tom; “I should never have been here now +but for him. It was the luckiest chance in the world that sent him to +Rugby and made him my chum.” + +“Why do you talk of lucky chances?” said the master. “I don't know that +there are any such things in the world; at any rate, there was neither +luck nor chance in that matter.” + +Tom looked at him inquiringly, and he went on. “Do you remember when the +Doctor lectured you and East at the end of one half-year, when you were +in the shell, and had been getting into all sorts of scrapes?” + +“Yes, well enough,” said Tom; “it was the half-year before Arthur came.” + +“Exactly so,” answered the master. “Now, I was with him a few minutes +afterwards, and he was in great distress about you two. And after some +talk, we both agreed that you in particular wanted some object in the +School beyond games and mischief; for it was quite clear that you never +would make the regular school work your first object. And so the Doctor, +at the beginning of the next half-year, looked out the best of the new +boys, and separated you and East, and put the young boy into your study, +in the hope that when you had somebody to lean on you, you would +begin to stand a little steadier yourself, and get manliness and +thoughtfulness. And I can assure you he has watched the experiment ever +since with great satisfaction. Ah! not one of you boys will ever know +the anxiety you have given him, or the care with which he has watched +over every step in your school lives.” + +Up to this time Tom had never given wholly in to or understood the +Doctor. At first he had thoroughly feared him. For some years, as I have +tried to show, he had learnt to regard him with love and respect, and +to think him a very great and wise and good man. But as regarded his own +position in the School, of which he was no little proud, Tom had no idea +of giving any one credit for it but himself, and, truth to tell, was a +very self-conceited young gentleman on the subject. He was wont to boast +that he had fought his own way fairly up the School, and had never made +up to or been taken up by any big fellow or master, and that it was +now quite a different place from what it was when he first came. And, +indeed, though he didn't actually boast of it, yet in his secret soul +he did to a great extent believe that the great reform in the School +had been owing quite as much to himself as to any one else. Arthur, +he acknowledged, had done him good, and taught him a good deal; so had +other boys in different ways, but they had not had the same means of +influence on the School in general. And as for the Doctor, why, he was +a splendid master; but every one knew that masters could do very little +out of school hours. In short, he felt on terms of equality with his +chief, so far as the social state of the School was concerned, and +thought that the Doctor would find it no easy matter to get on without +him. Moreover, his School Toryism was still strong, and he looked still +with some jealousy on the Doctor, as somewhat of a fanatic in the matter +of change, and thought it very desirable for the School that he should +have some wise person (such as himself) to look sharply after vested +School-rights, and see that nothing was done to the injury of the +republic without due protest. + +It was a new light to him to find that, besides teaching the sixth, and +governing and guiding the whole School, editing classics, and writing +histories, the great headmaster had found time in those busy years +to watch over the career even of him, Tom Brown, and his particular +friends, and, no doubt, of fifty other boys at the same time, and all +this without taking the least credit to himself, or seeming to know, or +let any one else know, that he ever thought particularly of any boy at +all. + +However, the Doctor's victory was complete from that moment over Tom +Brown at any rate. He gave way at all points, and the enemy marched +right over him--cavalry, infantry, and artillery, and the land transport +corps, and the camp followers. It had taken eight long years to do it; +but now it was done thoroughly, and there wasn't a corner of him left +which didn't believe in the Doctor. Had he returned to School again, and +the Doctor begun the half-year by abolishing fagging, and football, and +the Saturday half-holiday, or all or any of the most cherished School +institutions, Tom would have supported him with the blindest faith. And +so, after a half confession of his previous shortcomings, and sorrowful +adieus to his tutor, from whom he received two beautifully-bound volumes +of the Doctor's sermons, as a parting present, he marched down to the +Schoolhouse, a hero-worshipper, who would have satisfied the soul of +Thomas Carlyle himself. + +There he found the eleven at high jinks after supper, Jack Raggles +shouting comic songs and performing feats of strength, and was greeted +by a chorus of mingled remonstrance at his desertion and joy at his +reappearance. And falling in with the humour of the evening, he was soon +as great a boy as all the rest; and at ten o'clock was chaired round +the quadrangle, on one of the hall benches, borne aloft by the eleven, +shouting in chorus, “For he's a jolly good fellow,” while old Thomas, in +a melting mood, and the other School-house servants, stood looking on. + +And the next morning after breakfast he squared up all the cricketing +accounts, went round to his tradesmen and other acquaintance, and said +his hearty good-byes; and by twelve o'clock was in the train, and away +for London, no longer a school-boy, and divided in his thoughts between +hero-worship, honest regrets over the long stage of his life which was +now slipping out of sight behind him, and hopes and resolves for the +next stage upon which he was entering with all the confidence of a young +traveller. + + + +CHAPTER IX--FINIS. + + “Strange friend, past, present, and to be; + Loved deeplier, darklier understood; + Behold I dream a dream of good, + And mingle all the world with thee.”--TENNYSON. + +In the summer of 1842, our hero stopped once again at the well-known +station; and leaving his bag and fishing-rod with a porter, walked +slowly and sadly up towards the town. It was now July. He had rushed +away from Oxford the moment that term was over, for a fishing ramble in +Scotland with two college friends, and had been for three weeks living +on oatcake, mutton-hams, and whisky, in the wildest parts of Skye. They +had descended one sultry evening on the little inn at Kyle Rhea ferry; +and while Tom and another of the party put their tackle together +and began exploring the stream for a sea-trout for supper, the third +strolled into the house to arrange for their entertainment. Presently he +came out in a loose blouse and slippers, a short pipe in his mouth, and +an old newspaper in his hand, and threw himself on the heathery scrub +which met the shingle, within easy hail of the fishermen. There he lay, +the picture of free-and-easy, loafing, hand-to-mouth young England, +“improving his mind,” as he shouted to them, by the perusal of the +fortnight-old weekly paper, soiled with the marks of toddy-glasses and +tobacco-ashes, the legacy of the last traveller, which he had hunted +out from the kitchen of the little hostelry, and, being a youth of +a communicative turn of mind, began imparting the contents to the +fishermen as he went on. + +“What a bother they are making about these wretched corn-laws! Here's +three or four columns full of nothing but sliding scales and fixed +duties. Hang this tobacco, it's always going out! Ah, here's something +better--a splendid match between Kent and England, Brown, Kent winning +by three wickets. Felix fifty-six runs without a chance, and not out!” + +Tom, intent on a fish which had risen at him twice, answered only with a +grunt. + +“Anything about the Goodwood?” called out the third man. + +“Rory O'More drawn. Butterfly colt amiss,” shouted the student. + +“Just my luck,” grumbled the inquirer, jerking his flies off the water, +and throwing again with a heavy, sullen splash, and frightening Tom's +fish. + +“I say, can't you throw lighter over there? We ain't fishing for +grampuses,” shouted Tom across the stream. + +“Hullo, Brown! here's something for you,” called out the reading man +next moment. “Why, your old master, Arnold of Rugby, is dead.” + +Tom's hand stopped half-way in his cast, and his line and flies went all +tangling round and round his rod; you might have knocked him over with a +feather. Neither of his companions took any notice of him, luckily; and +with a violent effort he set to work mechanically to disentangle his +line. He felt completely carried off his moral and intellectual legs, as +if he had lost his standing-point in the invisible world. Besides which, +the deep, loving loyalty which he felt for his old leader made the shock +intensely painful. It was the first great wrench of his life, the first +gap which the angel Death had made in his circle, and he felt numbed, +and beaten down, and spiritless. Well, well! I believe it was good for +him and for many others in like case, who had to learn by that loss +that the soul of man cannot stand or lean upon any human prop, however +strong, and wise, and good; but that He upon whom alone it can stand and +lean will knock away all such props in His own wise and merciful way, +until there is no ground or stay left but Himself, the Rock of Ages, +upon whom alone a sure foundation for every soul of man is laid. + +As he wearily laboured at his line, the thought struck him, “It may +be all false--a mere newspaper lie.” And he strode up to the recumbent +smoker. + +“Let me look at the paper,” said he. + +“Nothing else in it,” answered the other, handing it up to him +listlessly. “Hullo, Brown! what's the matter, old fellow? Ain't you +well?” + +“Where is it?” said Tom, turning over the leaves, his hands trembling, +and his eyes swimming, so that he could not read. + +“What? What are you looking for?” said his friend, jumping up and +looking over his shoulder. + +“That--about Arnold,” said Tom. + +“Oh, here,” said the other, putting his finger on the paragraph. Tom +read it over and over again. There could be no mistake of identity, +though the account was short enough. + +“Thank you,” said he at last, dropping the paper. “I shall go for a +walk. Don't you and Herbert wait supper for me.” And away he strode, +up over the moor at the back of the house, to be alone, and master his +grief if possible. + +His friend looked after him, sympathizing and wondering, and, knocking +the ashes out of his pipe, walked over to Herbert. After a short parley +they walked together up to the house. + +“I'm afraid that confounded newspaper has spoiled Brown's fun for this +trip.” + +“How odd that he should be so fond of his old master,” said Herbert. Yet +they also were both public-school men. + +The two, however, notwithstanding Tom's prohibition, waited supper +for him, and had everything ready when he came back some half an hour +afterwards. But he could not join in their cheerful talk, and the party +was soon silent, notwithstanding the efforts of all three. One thing +only had Tom resolved, and that was, that he couldn't stay in Scotland +any longer: he felt an irresistible longing to get to Rugby, and then +home, and soon broke it to the others, who had too much tact to oppose. + +So by daylight the next morning he was marching through Ross-shire, +and in the evening hit the Caledonian Canal, took the next steamer, +and travelled as fast as boat and railway could carry him to the Rugby +station. + +As he walked up to the town, he felt shy and afraid of being seen, +and took the back streets--why, he didn't know, but he followed his +instinct. At the School-gates he made a dead pause; there was not a soul +in the quadrangle--all was lonely, and silent, and sad. So with another +effort he strode through the quadrangle, and into the School-house +offices. + +He found the little matron in her room in deep mourning; shook her hand, +tried to talk, and moved nervously about. She was evidently thinking of +the same subject as he, but he couldn't begin talking. + +“Where shall I find Thomas?” said he at last, getting desperate. + +“In the servants' hall, I think, sir. But won't you take anything?” said +the matron, looking rather disappointed. + +“No, thank you,” said he, and strode off again to find the old +verger, who was sitting in his little den, as of old, puzzling over +hieroglyphics. + +He looked up through his spectacles as Tom seized his hand and wrung it. + +“Ah! you've heard all about it, sir, I see,” said he. Tom nodded, and +then sat down on the shoe-board, while the old man told his tale, and +wiped his spectacles, and fairly flowed over with quaint, homely, honest +sorrow. + +By the time he had done Tom felt much better. + +“Where is he buried, Thomas?” said he at last. + +“Under the altar in the chapel, sir,” answered Thomas. “You'd like to +have the key, I dare say?” + +“Thank you, Thomas--yes, I should, very much.” + +And the old man fumbled among his bunch, and then got up, as though +he would go with him; but after a few steps stopped short, and said, +“Perhaps you'd like to go by yourself, sir?” + +Tom nodded, and the bunch of keys were handed to him, with an injunction +to be sure and lock the door after him, and bring them back before eight +o'clock. + +He walked quickly through the quadrangle and out into the close. The +longing which had been upon him and driven him thus far, like the +gad-fly in the Greek legends, giving him no rest in mind or body, seemed +all of a sudden not to be satisfied, but to shrivel up and pall. “Why +should I go on? It's no use,” he thought, and threw himself at full +length on the turf, and looked vaguely and listlessly at all the +well-known objects. There were a few of the town boys playing cricket, +their wicket pitched on the best piece in the middle of the big-side +ground--a sin about equal to sacrilege in the eyes of a captain of the +eleven. He was very nearly getting up to go and send them off. “Pshaw! +they won't remember me. They've more right there than I,” he muttered. +And the thought that his sceptre had departed, and his mark was wearing +out, came home to him for the first time, and bitterly enough. He was +lying on the very spot where the fights came off--where he himself had +fought six years ago his first and last battle. He conjured up the scene +till he could almost hear the shouts of the ring, and East's whisper in +his ear; and looking across the close to the Doctor's private door, +half expected to see it open, and the tall figure in cap and gown come +striding under the elm-trees towards him. + +No, no; that sight could never be seen again. There was no flag flying +on the round tower; the School-house windows were all shuttered up; and +when the flag went up again, and the shutters came down, it would be +to welcome a stranger. All that was left on earth of him whom he had +honoured was lying cold and still under the chapel floor. He would go in +and see the place once more, and then leave it once for all. New men and +new methods might do for other people; let those who would, worship the +rising star; he, at least, would be faithful to the sun which had +set. And so he got up, and walked to the chapel door, and unlocked it, +fancying himself the only mourner in all the broad land, and feeding on +his own selfish sorrow. + +He passed through the vestibule, and then paused for a moment to glance +over the empty benches. His heart was still proud and high, and he +walked up to the seat which he had last occupied as a sixth-form boy, +and sat himself down there to collect his thoughts. + +And, truth to tell, they needed collecting and setting in order not a +little. The memories of eight years were all dancing through his brain, +and carrying him about whither they would; while, beneath them all, his +heart was throbbing with the dull sense of a loss that could never be +made up to him. The rays of the evening sun came solemnly through the +painted windows above his head, and fell in gorgeous colours on the +opposite wall, and the perfect stillness soothed his spirit by little +and little. And he turned to the pulpit, and looked at it, and then, +leaning forward with his head on his hands, groaned aloud. If he could +only have seen the Doctor again for one five minutes--have told him all +that was in his heart, what he owed to him, how he loved and reverenced +him, and would, by God's help, follow his steps in life and death--he +could have borne it all without a murmur. But that he should have gone +away for ever without knowing it all, was too much to bear. “But am I +sure that he does not know it all?” The thought made him start. “May he +not even now be near me, in this very chapel? If he be, am I sorrowing +as he would have me sorrow, as I should wish to have sorrowed when I +shall meet him again?” + +He raised himself up and looked round, and after a minute rose and +walked humbly down to the lowest bench, and sat down on the very seat +which he had occupied on his first Sunday at Rugby. And then the old +memories rushed back again, but softened and subdued, and soothing him +as he let himself be carried away by them. And he looked up at the great +painted window above the altar, and remembered how, when a little boy, +he used to try not to look through it at the elm-trees and the rooks, +before the painted glass came; and the subscription for the painted +glass, and the letter he wrote home for money to give to it. And there, +down below, was the very name of the boy who sat on his right hand on +that first day, scratched rudely in the oak panelling. + +And then came the thought of all his old schoolfellows; and form after +form of boys nobler, and braver, and purer than he rose up and seemed to +rebuke him. Could he not think of them, and what they had felt and were +feeling--they who had honoured and loved from the first the man whom he +had taken years to know and love? Could he not think of those yet dearer +to him who was gone, who bore his name and shared his blood, and were +now without a husband or a father? Then the grief which he began to +share with others became gentle and holy, and he rose up once more, and +walked up the steps to the altar, and while the tears flowed freely down +his cheeks, knelt down humbly and hopefully, to lay down there his share +of a burden which had proved itself too heavy for him to bear in his own +strength. + +Here let us leave him. Where better could we leave him than at the +altar before which he had first caught a glimpse of the glory of his +birthright, and felt the drawing of the bond which links all living +souls together in one brotherhood--at the grave beneath the altar of him +who had opened his eyes to see that glory, and softened his heart till +it could feel that bond? + +And let us not be hard on him, if at that moment his soul is fuller of +the tomb and him who lies there than of the altar and Him of whom it +speaks. Such stages have to be gone through, I believe, by all young and +brave souls, who must win their way through hero-worship to the worship +of Him who is the King and Lord of heroes. For it is only through our +mysterious human relationships--through the love and tenderness and +purity of mothers and sisters and wives, through the strength and +courage and wisdom of fathers and brothers and teachers--that we can +come to the knowledge of Him in whom alone the love, and the tenderness, +and the purity, and the strength, and the courage, and the wisdom of all +these dwell for ever and ever in perfect fullness. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tom Brown's Schooldays, by Thomas Hughes + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1480 *** |