RUGBY AND FOOT-BALL.
"--Foot and eye opposed
In dubious strife."--_Scott._
ARRIVAL AT RUGBY.
"And so here's Rugby, sir, at last, and you'll be in plenty of time
for dinner at the School-house, as I tell'd 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 foot-ball 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 school-gates with the oriel
window[1] 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 the street as well as he.
[1] #Oriel window#: a bay-window. The great window over the
arch is a striking feature of the Rugby gateway.
TOM FINDS A PATRON.
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."[2]
[2] #Lift#: assistance of any kind.
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 heark'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[3] 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.
[3] #Quadrangle#: a square piece of ground inclosed by
buildings. English schools and colleges are quite generally
built round a quadrangle or "quod" as it is commonly called.
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[4]
at seven and sixpence; Nixon undertaking to send the best hat up to
the matron's room, School-house, in half an hour.
[4] #Regulation cat-skin#: the hat prescribed by custom or
school law.
"You can send in a note for a tile[5] on Monday, and make it
all right, you know," said the Mentor.[6] "We're allowed two
seven-and-sixers a half, besides what we bring from home."
[5] #Tile#: a tall silk hat.
[6] #Mentor#: a wise counsellor. See Homer's Odyssey.
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.[7]
[7] #Two seven-and-sixers#, etc.: _i.e._, two hats, for each
half year, costing seven shillings and sixpence ($1.80) each.
"You see," said his friend, as they strolled up toward 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.[8] this half, and
perhaps'll double it next, if I keep in her good books."[9]
[8] #Half-a-sov.#: half a sovereign ($2.50).
[9] #Keep in her good books#: keep on good terms with her.
There's nothing for candor like a lower-school boy, and East was a
genuine specimen,--frank, hearty and good-natured, well satisfied with
himself and his position, and chock 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,[10] felt friends with him
at once, and began sucking in all his ways and prejudices, as fast as
he could understand them.
[10] #Bumptiousness#: domineering manner.
INTRODUCTION TO THE MATRON.
East was great in the character of cicerone;[11] 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[12] are you in?"--and so they passed on through
the quadrangle and a small court-yard, upon which looked down a lot of
little windows (belonging, as his guide informed him, to some of the
School-house studies),[13] 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.
[11] #Cicerone#: guide.
[12] #Form#: here, class.
[13] #Studies#: small private rooms occupied by the Rugby
boys (two in a room) for study. They are distinct from the
bed-rooms.
EAST'S STUDY.
"And now come in and see my study; we shall have just time before
dinner; and afterward, before calling-over,[14] we'll do the close."
[14] #Calling-over#: roll-call.
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 fire-places 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,[15] 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.
[15] #Convoy#: literally, a merchant-vessel protected by a
ship-of-war; here, a person under the care of another.
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 further end was occupied by a square table
covered with a reasonably clean and whole red and blue check
table-cloth; 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 dog's heads, Grimaldi[16] winning the
Aylesbury steeple-chase,[17] Amy Robsart,[18] the reigning Waverley
beauty of the day, and Tom Crib[19] in a posture of defence, which did
no credit to the science[20] of that hero, if truly represented. Over
the door was a row of hat-pegs, and on each side book-cases 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.
[16] #Grimaldi#: the name of a race-horse.
[17] #Steeple-chase#: a race between horsemen across country
to see which can first reach a certain distant object, as a
church steeple.
[18] #Amy Robsart#: the heroine of Scott's Waverley novel,
"Kenilworth."
[19] #Tom Crib#: a noted pugilist.
[20] #Science#: boxing or pugilistic science.
"OUR OWN" AND THE USE THEREOF.
This was the residence of East and another boy in the same form, and
had more interest for Tom than Windsor Castle,[21] 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?
[21] #Windsor Castle#: the principal residence of the English
monarchs. It is on the Thames, about twenty miles west of
London.
"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[22] has the study at the fire end, and he has rigged up an
iron rod and green baize curtains 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 keep a sharp look-out that he
don't catch you behind his curtain when he comes down,--that's all."
[22] #Praepostors#: the members of the sixth form, the highest
class in the school. They were charged with the duty of
looking after the other boys.
TOM'S FIRST RUGBY DINNER.
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 foot-ball or long walks, some pale and chilly from
hard reading[23] in their studies, some from loitering over the fire
at the pastry-cook's, dainty mortals, bringing with them pickles and
sauce-bottles 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[24] 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,[25] or digging their forks
through the table-cloth. However, notwithstanding his curiosity, he
managed to make a capital dinner by the time the big man called "Stand
up!" and said grace.
[23] #Reading#: studying.
[24] #Verger#: here, the porter.
[25] #Pellets#: wads of paper.
As soon as dinner was over, and Tom had been questioned by such
neighbors 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,[26] which Tom,
athirst for knowledge, gladly assented to, and they went out through
the quadrangle and passed the fives' court,[27] into the great
play-ground.
[26] #Close#: this close or play-ground contains something
over thirteen acres.
[27] #Fives' court#: the space set apart for playing fives, a
game resembling tennis.
"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 the 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[28] in the farthest
corner; you'll know that well enough next half, when there's island
fagging.[29] 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 milk-sop, laid himself down to the 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.
[28] #Island#: the island no longer exists.
[29] #Fagging#: the power given the sixth form, by authority
and the custom of the school, to require the boys of the lower
forms or classes to do errands, and act as servants generally.
The system still has its defenders who regard it as a means of
discipline.
"I say," said East, as soon as he got his wind, looking with much
increased respect at Tom, "you aren't a bad scud, not by no means.
Well, I'm warm as toast now."
WHITE TROUSERS IN NOVEMBER.
"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
foot-ball.[30] And we all wear white trousers to show 'em we don't
care for hacks.[31] 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 is
fourteen."
[30] #Foot-ball#: foot-ball is the great game at Rugby. It
first became popular in America under the Rugby rules, which,
though modified, are still the basis of the game as now
played.
[31] #Hacks#: kicks on the shins.
"Who is 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
foot-ball 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.
EAST DISCOURSETH ON FOOT-BALL.
"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,[32] 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 foot-ball.
[32] #Technicalities#: here, phrases peculiar to foot-ball.
"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. Aren'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.
CALLING-OVER.
He hadn't long to wonder, however, for the next minute East cried out:
"Hurra; 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 callings-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[33] to calling-over,
and the whole school of three hundred boys swept into the Big
School[34] to answer to their names.
[33] #Cap and gown#: It is customary in England for holders of
academic degrees to wear at times the appropriate cap and gown
indicating their grade and college.
[34] #The Big School#: the name of one of the school buildings
at Rugby.
"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 further end, where that
illustrious form, the lower fourth, which had the honor 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,[35]
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,[36] and all the junior
forms in order; while up the middle marched the three praepostors.
[35] #Canes#: light, limber rattans used as rods.
[36] #Shell#: the lower fourth form or class.
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,[37] must be there.
The rest of the sixth go forward into the close, to see that no one
escapes by any of the side gates.
[37] #Will-he, nill-he#: willing or not.
"THEY TRUST TO OUR HONOR."
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_[38] to the School-house fags to go
where they like: "They trust to our honor," as East proudly informs
Tom; "they know very well that no School-house boy would cut the
match.[39] If he did, we'd very soon cut him,[40] I can tell you."
[38] #Carte blanche#: literally, a white card to be filled up
as one pleases; hence, unlimited power.
[39] #Cut the match#: refuse to be present at the game.
[40] #Cut him#: drop his society.
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[41] by the authorities; and the whole mass of boys
move up toward 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,[42] 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 color 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
color; but at the time we are speaking of, plush caps had 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 strap,--but we mean business, gentlemen.
[41] #Impounded#: locked up.
[42] #Braces#: suspenders.
OLD BROOKE'S GENERALSHIP.
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 half-penny, and got choice of
goals and kick-off? The new ball you may see lie there quite by
itself, in the middle, pointing toward the School or island goal; in
another minute it will be well on its way there. Use that minute in
remarking how the School-house side is drilled. You will see, in the
first place, that the sixth form boy who has charge of goal has spread
his force (the goal-keepers) 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[43] 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,[44]
but wisely and bravely ruling over willing and worshipping subjects, a
true foot-ball 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.
[43] #Larking#: frolicking.
[44] #He of Russia#: the Czar.
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.
A SCRUMMAGE.
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
toward 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 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.[45]
[45] #In the consulship of Plancus#: meaning, perhaps, at the
time when "old Brooke" was leader.
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 leathern 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 foot-ball 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 foot-ball you can understand if you will. Come along
with me a little nearer, and let us consider it together.
HOW TO GO IN.
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 bull-dogs,
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 he 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 sort 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
foot-ball.
YOUNG BROOKE'S RUSH.
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 color 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 a 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 further, where the opposite line is weak. Old
Brooke strikes it out straight and strong, and it falls opposite his
brother. Hurra! 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-post.
The School leaders come up furious, and administer toco[46] to the
wretched fags nearest at hand; they may well be angry, for it is all
Lombard Street[47] to a China orange[48] 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 forward, 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[49] 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.
[46] #Toco#: probably kicks and cuffs.
[47] #Lombard Street#: the centre of the banking business in
London.
[48] #China orange#: a sweet orange.
[49] Fond: here, foolish.
A GOAL.
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[50] 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.[51] 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.
[50] #Itinerant#: wandering.
[51] #Pyrenees#: an allusion to the French and English wars in
Spain.
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 until now, will lead the charges.
"ARE YOU READY?"
"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 School-house
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 honor
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 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.
EAST'S CHARGE.
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 "bravos" 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.[52] 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 the 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.
[52] #Waterloo#: (in Belgium) the scene of the crushing defeat
of the French in 1815, by the allied forces under the Duke of
Wellington, by which the power of Napoleon was finally broken.
The Old Guard was the emperor's favorite body of troops, and
was considered irresistible.
TOM'S FIRST EXPLOIT.
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"[53] is called, and the first day
of the School-house match is over.
[53] #No side#: a drawn game.