It was the practice for our school to be taken out for a walk on Sunday
mornings, and to go on to the barrack-field at Woolwich, to see the
march past previous to the troops going to church. At this march past
the splendid band of the Royal Artillery used to play at the head of the
regiment, whilst immediately following the band, and heading the
regiment, were two companies of gentlemen cadets.
At the church-parade on Sundays the cadets turned out in full-dress,
which consisted of white trowsers, a blue tailed coat with red facings,
a shako and plume. Such a dress now would look old-fashioned, but to my
boyish eyes it seemed in those days the pattern of neatness, and of a
soldierlike appearance.
To me everything military possessed the charm of novelty, but I must own
that nothing I had ever imagined previously came up, in my ideas, to the
magnificent sight that I for the first time now witnessed. I had never
before heard a military band, and I gazed with wonder at the immense
display of musicians, headed by a splendid-looking man, arrayed in gold
lace, and swinging a huge gold-headed stick, as tall as himself, which
he dexterously manipulated in time with the music. There is always
something spirit-stirring in the sound of martial music, and I stood
entranced as the band marched past me, turned sharp to the left as
though worked by machinery, and, wheeling about, faced me, as they
continued the slow march they were playing.
"Here come the gentlemen cadets!" said some of the civilians, who by
hundreds had assembled to see the Sunday march past. "Look how
splendidly they march?"
"What a fine set of young fellows!"
I pushed myself into a front position as I heard these remarks, and saw
advancing at a slow march a line of soldiers, moving as though they were
part and parcel of each other. With heads erect, and shoulders well
thrown back, this line advanced; the marching was perfect. As the
leading company approached a flag, beside which were several officers,
who I noticed were covered with medals, a tall cadet shouted, "Bear rank
take open order!" and, coming out to the front, led the company onward.
So new was the sight to me, so splendid did it all appear, and so
imposing, that I felt a half-choking sensation as I looked at and
admired every movement. As the leading cadet passed the flag I saw him
go through some movement, which concluded with his raising his hand to
his cap in what I knew must be a salute. I heard murmurs of applause
among the bystanders, and the deep, decided voice of an old officer at
the flagstaff exclaim, "Well marched, gentlemen; very well marched."
There was a something, I don't know what to call it, but it seemed like
a flash of intelligence passed across the faces of the cadets as they
heard these words. They marched on as rigidly as ever, not a cadet an
inch before or behind his neighbour, but there was a sparkle in the eye
of each cadet that showed the words spoken by the officer had been heard
and appreciated by front and rear rank of the cadets.
"Who is that officer?" I heard a civilian ask.
"That is Lord Bloomfield, the commandant," was the reply.
I looked at the commandant, and saw a handsome, soldierlike-looking man
in a splendid uniform, but he was too far removed from me in years and
rank to produce any special sympathy on my part; the hero of the day in
my mind was the cadet who had given the order to open the ranks, whilst
every one of the forty cadets forming the first company that had marched
past was to me an object of admiration. At that moment I would have
given much to have been one among that company, and to have marched past
as they had marched.
As the cadets marched before us, I could hear some of my schoolfellows
calling attention to several cadets who were known to them.
"There's Duckworth, who passed third last Christmas," said one of them.
"He's second of his batch now, and is sure of the Engineers, they say."
"There's Hobson in the rear rank, with the brass collar; he got
second-class mathematical prize; and see how well Jackson marches; he's
an awful swell now since he got sixty runs and carried out his bat in
the last match with the officers. Look at that brute Tims," exclaimed
another; "I hope he'll be spun at his probationary, or he'll be an awful
bully as an old cadet when I am a neux."
These and other similar remarks I heard near me, just as a feeling of
utter misery came over me as I realised the fact that it was impossible
I could ever be a cadet. What I had seen on that parade had instilled
into me military ambition, and if I had then and there been offered the
option of a peerage or of being a gentleman cadet, I am perfectly
certain I should have jumped at the chance of being a cadet. I now
fully realised the absurdity of my having said at Mr Hostler's that I
was going to be an engineer, for I had already discovered that I was,
compared to other boys, a dunce, and that it required a boy to be not
only very clever, but to have been thoroughly well prepared, to stand
any chance of being among the first flight in the intellectual race at
the Academy. Consequently my remarks about being an engineer, though
uttered in all simplicity and ignorance by me, appeared to others as
conceited and vain-glorious, as though it were announced that a screw of
a horse was going to Epsom to win the Derby. I was now not surprised
that I had been, and still remained, a laughing-stock to my
schoolfellows on account of my ignorance.
A third of a century has passed since that Sunday morning on which I was
first a witness of a military display. During the interval, many
strange and wonderful scenes have passed before us, and we have seen a
large portion of our globe; but we cannot recall any pageant that has
produced upon us half the effect that was produced by a simple
marching-past parade, in which the gentlemen cadets, as the first
company of the Royal Artillery, marched at the head of the regiment.
Since those days years have produced their effect upon our mind and
body, but we are convinced a far greater effect has been produced on
society than on us individually. Formerly any man or boy, who by
labour, gallant deeds, intellectual power, or skill, had distinguished
himself, and had thereby, even temporarily, gained a position of
eminence, received the deference considered then due to him.
To the Woolwich schoolboy the gentleman cadet was a being so far above
him that he was to be approached only with bated breath and whispering
humbleness. To the cadet the officer was an emblem of authority and
rank far above criticism, and to be treated only with respect, and
obeyed without murmur. To the last-joined cadet the old cadet was an
object of mingled fear and admiration--fear because, in the days of
which we write, fagging was at its height, and too often was abused, and
degenerated into bullying; and admiration because the old cadet had
surmounted difficulties which it had yet to be proved the young cadet
could surmount. What may be described as "veneration" for rank and
seniority was then at its height, and impressed its influence even on
the members of a cram-school such as Mr Hostler's.
He himself, as master of the school, used his best endeavours to keep
this sentiment alive. The career of those boys who had done well at the
Academy was often referred to by Hostler, and comparisons made between
what had been accomplished by other and former pupils, and what was
likely to be done by those now at the school. Amongst those whose
reputation stood highest at Hostler's I found the name of my friend
Howard was well known. He had done well at the Academy, had gained
several prizes, and had left behind him a reputation that was not likely
to die out soon.
In those days a boy at school used to look with a mingled feeling of
respect and fear at a cadet; to be seen speaking familiarly with a cadet
was enough to give a boy a position in a school, whilst an officer was
regarded as belonging entirely to another order of being, whose sayings
and doings were merely to be quoted as examples for future guidance.
A change, however, has taken place in these things. Now it is no
unusual thing for the visitor to Woolwich to see four or five young men
at school lounging down the common arm in arm, each with his pipe in his
mouth, jostling off the pavement an officer covered with medals, or
puffing their tobacco-smoke in the faces of ladies, whom they almost
force into the road, and eye in a half sneering, half patronising
manner. To them a cadet is nothing superior in any way to themselves;
an officer they imagine to be a man behind his time, and one to whom
they could give lots of useful hints. Let people only wait till they
become officers, and (so they believe) then they will show how things
should be done.
Others, again, in the present day, stand on what they imagine their
rights, and will not admit that any deference is due to either age,
rank, or experience--a sentiment largely demonstrated during the reign
of the Paris Commune, a sort of "down with everything that's up" style,
that is more dangerous to a country than are the armies of her enemies.
Thirty years ago such sentiments had little hold in England, and none
whatever among those who were candidates for Woolwich, or who wore the
coveted uniform of a gentleman cadet; and we cannot but think that much
of that military devotion which so characterised every branch of the
army during the earlier part of the present century was due to the
_esprit de corps_ felt by all officers at that time, when soldiering was
not so much a business as an honourable profession. That men of the
Anglo-Saxon race should ever fail in courage, or in a sense of duty, is
not likely, but there is a marked difference between work done from a
sense of duty and that done _con amore_; and where discontent is not
unknown, we too often find mere duty is most irksome.
During four months that I remained at Mr Hostler's, previous to a brief
vacation, I made very slow progress; it seemed to me that there was a
disinclination on the part of the masters to push me forward. I was
kept over and over again at the same things, whilst other boys were
pushed on to more advanced subjects. I had obtained a reputation for
being stupid and having no capacity for mathematics, and this case
seemed an example of giving a dog a bad name, and you may as well hang
him. The neglect with which I was treated produced its effect on me,
for I failed to use all my powers to advance, as it seemed a useless
effort on my part; so I only did as much as would save me from the
whalebone cane, and this I often failed to escape.
I hailed with delight the day that I left Mr Hostler's for a three
weeks' holiday, for I hoped I should never return, as I intended to
explain to my father how matters were, and to get him either to send me
to another school, or to withdraw me entirely from the proposed
competition for Woolwich. I had a keen sense of the discredit that
would attach to me if I went up for my examination and failed, for I
knew slightly a boy near Salisbury, who had been prepared for Woolwich,
had gone up to the Academy, and been, as it was termed, "spun." Many
persons who knew nothing of the difficulty of the examination, or were
unacquainted with the fact that out of forty who went up for examination
it was rare for more than twenty or twenty-five to be taken, yet pitied
the friends of this boy on account of his "discreditable failure," as
they termed it. Believing that it was no question of probability, but a
certainty, that I could not qualify for my examination, I considered it
would be more prudent to withdraw under some excuse, rather than go up
and fail. I was also assured by several boys that Mr Hostler would not
allow me to go up unless he was tolerably certain I should pass, as it
would bring discredit on his school if I failed.
It was late in the evening when I reached my father's lodge, and was
welcomed by all my relatives. The change that had taken place in me was
marked, and was noticed by all. I was thinner, and the care and thought
of the past four months had given me an aged appearance, that made me
look a year older than I was. I could scarcely conceal my feelings as
my sisters hoped I was getting on splendidly, and would soon be an
engineer, like Howard. To enter into all the details of my difficulties
with them would, I knew, be useless, and so I avoided answering them,
and made up my mind to wait till I could have a quiet talk with my
father, and explain matters to him.
After dinner that evening I found my opportunity of speaking to my
father when we were alone. I was most eager to open my heart to him,
and let him know how things really stood. Without any preface I
suddenly said, "I want to tell you, there's no possible chance of my
passing for a cadet."
"No chance! What do you mean? Why, it's nearly ten months to your
examination! Don't you mean to try?"
"I may try all I can, and yet it's impossible; it would take me two
years to get into the class that goes up for examination."
"Mr Hostler thinks differently, Bob, for he says that he hopes you will
pass, if you will work; but that up to the present time you have been
very idle."
I listened with astonishment to my father's remarks, and could hardly
believe it possible that Mr Hostler had written such words. My doubts,
however, were soon removed, by the production of Mr Hostler's letter,
in which were the very words quoted. I knew that what I had stated was
correct, and that Mr Hostler knew, even better than I did, that there
was no chance of my success; but at the time I had no idea of the reason
for his sending such a letter to my father. It was, I found, the
intention to send me back to Hostler's at the termination of my three
weeks' vacation, and I began to count the days and hours of liberty
previous to that, to me, unpleasant period.
On the following morning I received an invitation from Howard, asking me
to go over and pass a few days with him, and, having obtained my
father's consent, I started for his lodgings, which were at a farm-house
near Lyndhurst.
Howard was now to me even a greater hero than he had formerly appeared.
I looked on him as one who had passed a distinguished career at
Woolwich, and had also been abroad, and I felt somewhat afraid of him
now that I knew how much he had done. He was, however, so kind and
friendly that I was soon at my ease, and as we sat at our _tete-a-tete_
dinner I found myself telling him all my disappointments, hopes, and
fears at Mr Hostler's, and my difficulties as regarded the future.
Howard seemed much amused at all I told him, and said that the first
thing he must teach me was to be a good "mill,"--that meant, how to use
my fists. He did not mean to bother me with work, as he believed I
wanted rest more than anything; but he promised to write to Hostler, and
ask him to push me on, and he thought that, although it was difficult,
yet it was by no means impossible I might pass.
On the following morning, soon after breakfast, Howard produced a pair
of boxing-gloves, and, taking a seat on a chair, gave me instruction in
what he called "the noble art of self-defence." He first showed me how
to stand, how to raise and hold my fists, how to strike out and make the
foot and hand work together. He pointed out the danger of an open guard
by giving me light taps in the face, and then explained how to guard
them.
"We'll have an hour a day at this fun," he said, "while you are here,
and I'll back you to lick Fraser when you go back to Woolwich. There's
nothing that can't be done by thought and work."
During the week I passed with Howard I changed from a condition of
despondency to one of Hope. I learnt from him the power to be derived
from thought and work. He explained to me his own difficulties, and how
he had overcome them, and encouraged me by saying that, although I was
backward, he believed I had brains enough to come to the front after
all. By constant practice I had become, as he said, quite a "dab" with
my fists, and ought to hold my own with heavier weights than myself.
"Don't you ever seek a fight," he advised, "if you are even sure to win,
because that's bad style; but, if a boy tries to bully you, never avoid
a fight, and you'll soon find you'll lead an easier life, even though
you get licked."
I returned home from my visit to Howard with a lighter heart than I had
gone there, for hope now took the place of despair. If I could only
manage to pass into the Academy, I thought, what a triumph it would be!
but then the knowledge of the work before me cropped up, and it seemed
as impossible I could accomplish what I had to do as that I could
accomplish flying, or any other impossibility. Any way, I would try
hard on my return to Hostler's, and perhaps he would now push me on
faster than he had done before.
My three weeks soon passed, and I once more joined Hostler's school at
Woolwich. There were two new boys, who had, however, been to other
schools, and were fairly forward both in Euclid and algebra, and got on
very well after the first few days. I soon became better friends than I
had been with Strong and two or three other boys; but Fraser, who was
the bully of the school, was still very uncivil to me, and more than
once had threatened to thrash me if I interfered with him.
Remembering the advice that Howard had given me, I told Strong one day
that if Fraser gave me any reason for doing so, I intended to challenge
him to fight. Strong warned me against doing anything so rash, for he
assured me he knew a case where Fraser had completely cut a boy's cheek
open in a fight, and that I should not be able to stand up against him
for five minutes.