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 Irish women, 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 look-out 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 to 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 præpostors 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 præpostors, 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 præpostor 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 præpostor 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
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.
"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 piece 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 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 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 look-out, 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, that 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; had given out that
any boy, in whatever form, who should thenceforth appeal to a master,
without having first gone to some præpostor 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 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." 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 them. 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
anyone, 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, 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 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 or 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, 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' 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' 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 villanous
dirty table-cloth and a 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 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.
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 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 sports man--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's. "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 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 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 him 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.