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.
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 upward 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[1] of Virgil, and the Hecuba[2] 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;[3] 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 endeavoring 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 Irish
women, making fun of their master, one another, and their lessons,
Argus[4] 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 or 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 forever 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.
[1] #Bucolics#: short poems on country life.
[2] #Hecuba#: the name of a play.
[3] #Accidence#: the rudiments of grammar.
[4] #Argus#: in mythology, a monster with a hundred eyes.
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
lessons 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.[5] 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[6] or ideal form
of the young scapegraces who formed the staple[7] of it.
[5] #Babel#: confusion. See Genesis, Chapter XI.
[6] #Elysium#: in mythology, a dwelling-place for happy souls
after death; hence, any delightful place.
[7] #Staple#: principal part.
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 favorably 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.[8] 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 look-out holes, marching
slowly down the school straight upon their retreat, while all the boys
in the neighborhood 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.
[8] #Veto#: the act of forbidding; a prohibition.
MONTHLY EXAMINATIONS.
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[9] 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 kind 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."
[9] #Tithe#: a tenth.
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.
TRISTE LUPUS.
The boy who was called up first was a clever,[10] merry School-house
boy, one of their set; he was some connection of the Doctor's and a
great favorite, and ran in and out of his house as he liked, and so
was selected for the first victim.
[10] #Clever#: bright, smart.
"Triste lupus stabulis,"[11] began the luckless youngster, and
stammered through some eight or ten lines.
[11] #"Triste lupus stabulis"#: "the wolf is fatal to the
flocks."
"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[12] 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[13] 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[14] 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.
[12] #Form#: here, bench.
[13] #Form#: here, class.
[14] #Rating#: scolding.
But a character for steadiness once gone is not easily recovered, as
Tom found, and for years afterward 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.
MISRULE AND ITS CAUSES.
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 one 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'[15] 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.
[15] #Colleagues#: associates.
THE OLD BOY MORALIZETH THEREON.
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[16]
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.
[16] #Quit#: acquit, behave.
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 thousandfold 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.
THE SHOE BEGINS TO PINCH.
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,"[17] which was just
coming out, and which he was luxuriously devouring, stretched on his
back on the sofa.
[17] #"The Pickwick Papers"#: a humorous novel by Charles
Dickens.
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
hurra 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.
THE EXPLOSION.
"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 are 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.
THE SIEGE.
In another minute they heard the supper-party turn out and come down
the passage to their door. They held their breath, 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 are 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 inward, 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 & Co. 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[18] 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.
[18] #Convivial#: relating to a feast; festal.
THE REBELS IN COUNCIL.
There was no pursuit, so the two turned into the hall, where they
found a knot of small boys around 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[19] of the School last
half?" put in another.
[19] #Levy#: a meeting of the pupils.
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[20]
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.[21]
[20] #Premising#: saying to begin with
[21] #Sent to Coventry#: excluded from their society.
A COUNSELLOR OF THE REBELS
"Well, then, let's try the sixth. Try Morgan," suggested another. "No
use"--"Babbling 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 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[22] the bullies by offering to
fag for them, and peaching[23] against the rest of us."
[22] #Toady#: seek favor in a mean way.
[23] #Peaching#: telling.
"Why wasn't he cut,[24] then?" said East.
[24] #Cut#: the same as "Sent to Coventry."
"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 favor."
"THE MUCKER."
The quarter-to-ten bell now rang, and the small boys went off
up-stairs, 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."[25] 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;[26] 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 around 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[27] 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
schoolbooks, 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 afterward, when he got into the sixth,
chose them for his fags, and excused them from study-fagging,[28]
thereby earning unto himself eternal gratitude from them, and all who
are interested in their history.
[25] #The Mucker#: the sloven.
[26] #Tails#: a tail coat.
[27] #Impecuniosity#: want of money.
[28] #Study-fagging#: clearing up his study-room.
THE WAR RAGES.
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, tho'," 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
upon 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 foot-ball, 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[29] at the end of the bottom passage.
[29] #Cockpit#: here, probably, a recess or small place.
THE WEAK TO THE WALL.
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 opinion 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 toward 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.
DIGGS'S BANKRUPTCY.
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[30] 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[31]) 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 sauce-pan;[32] Lot 2, a
villanous 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,[33] 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,[34]
you two--I value that paper-case; my sister gave it me last
holidays--I won't forget;" and so tumbled out into the passage,
leaving them somewhat embarrassed, but not sorry that he knew what
they had done.
[30] #Penates#: Roman household gods; hence, most precious
things.
[31] #Sterling#: English money.
[32] #Sauce-pan#: a vessel for boiling and stewing.
[33] #Verses#: Latin verses.
[34] #Beggars#: here, fellows.
THE DERBY LOTTERY.
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[35] 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[36] and betting, and
other objectionable results; but when our great Houses of Palaver[37]
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[38] 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 School-house, 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 favorite horse.[39]
[35] #Derby#: a famous English horse-race (pronounced Darby).
[36] #Books#: an arrangement of bets on a race recorded in a
book, and so calculated that the book-maker generally wins
something, whatever the result.
[37] #Houses of Palaver#: Parliament never sits on Derby Day.
[38] #Nominally#: in name only.
[39] #Drawing a favorite horse#: the names of the horses
running at the Derby were written on folded slips of paper,
and those who drew the winning names got the prizes.
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 a 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 favorites 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 others
of the standers-by. But no great favorite 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! third favorite," 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.[40] Now I'll give you half-a-crown[41] for him." Tadpole
holds out, but between threats and cajoleries[42] 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[43] is safe anyhow."
[40] #Hedge#: here, a guard against loss.
[41] #Half-a-crown#: an English silver coin, two shillings and
sixpence, or sixty cents.
[42] #Cajoleries#: coaxing by flatteries.
[43] #Tizzy#: here, the one and sixpence.
TOM DRAWS THE FAVORITE.
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, Flashy,
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 around 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 under value 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 afterward. 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[44] 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."
[44] #Coxiest#: most conceited, impudent.
Flashman forgets to explain what risks 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.
ROASTING A FAG.
"Very well, then, let's roast him," cried Flashman, and catches hold
of Tom by the collar; one or two of the boys hesitate, but the rest
join in. East seizes Tom's arm and tries to pull him away, but he is
knocked back by one of the boys, and Tom is dragged along struggling.
His shoulders are pushed against the mantle-piece, and he is held by
main force before the fire. 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 more 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 staunch 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?" whispered East.
"Only the back of my legs," answered 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."[45]
LAST DAYS OF THE WAR.
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.
[45] Job iii. 17.
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.