Having made the journey from Hampshire to Woolwich in one day, I
reported myself at the Academy at about six in the evening, and then
found that I was appointed to No. 16 room, the head of which was a cadet
named Forester. On going to this room I found I was the first arrival,
and I also ascertained that the second of my room was Fenton. I was the
third, and there was a vacancy for the fourth, who most likely would be
a last-joined, and consequently the regular fag of the room. About
eight o'clock Forester came, and was very civil to me; asked me if I had
been winning any more races during the vacation, and told me I must
always secure a racket-court for him. The securing the racket-court was
by some cadet, either on coming out from the hall or being broken off at
parade, racing to the court and being first in. He could then, if he
liked, resign his claim to any one else; so it was not unusual for a
neux who could run well to be employed for this purpose.
"You'll find Fenton a very good fellow," said Forester; "and I should
think you are heartily glad to get out of Brag's room."
"Brag and Snipson both used to bully me a great deal," I said; "but I
suppose it's the usual thing." I did not yet know Forester well enough
to speak freely about the treatment I had received, so I was cautions in
my remarks.
About nine o'clock Fenton came in, and I at once took a fancy to him.
He was short, stoutly built, and very dark. He and Forester were great
friends, and were antagonists at rackets, and I also found they both
played chess.
During the first few days of my second half I was very comfortable. I
had little to do for either Forester or Fenton. I brushed them, and
they did the same to me; and I brought books, etc, from the library for
Forester, but there was no bullying from either of them. In a week
after my return a last-joined cadet was appointed to our room, and to
him was allotted the work which had hitherto fallen to my share. The
last-joined was called Hampden, and was a wild Irishman. He was soon
called upon to sing his songs of a night, and make his odes to the moon,
but I was never sent for now, as the heads of rooms and old cadets in my
division were contented in fagging the last-joined. Hampden could
neither sing nor make speeches, and his strong Irish accent was very
amusing, so that he was well laughed at, and pelted with boots and
brushes, when he failed to make any speeches. He was, however, very
good-tempered, and the more he was chaffed the more he seemed pleased.
It was about ten days after my return, that Snipson told me one day that
he wanted to see me over at his room, which was in the "Towers." On
going there he informed me that he had now a single room, and therefore
had not a fag, and as there was a last-joined in my room I couldn't have
much to do, so he should require me at his room every morning at seven
to brush clothes, and look out for things he wanted.
This order was a great annoyance to me; I had been so quiet and
comfortable in my room that I fancied the worst part of the fagging was
over; but now having to turn out and dress by seven, and go over to the
"Towers" where Snipson ordered me about, was, as I termed it,
"disgusting." I told Forester of the order, and he said I had better
go, for it was the custom for one or two cadets of the second term to be
fagged at the "Towers," where no last-joined were quartered.
I soon found that Snipson seemed to dislike me as much as I did him;
there was a natural antipathy between us, and we seemed to have nothing
in common. He found fault with all I did, and complained that I mislaid
everything and did not brush his clothes properly. I ground my teeth at
his complaints and kicks, but I had to bear them nevertheless, for there
was in those days the most rigid discipline used against a neux who
"struck," as it was termed, against an old cadet. I knew that of the
two evils it was the lesser to bear the bullying of Snipson rather than
to commit any act as bad for a cadet as mutiny for an officer or
soldier. I found there were no other second-half cadets besides myself
who were really fagged regularly, except where there was no fourth to a
room, so I thought my case a hard one. However, there was no use in
complaining, so I did my work and stood my bullying in as dogged a
manner as possible.
When the idea had first seized me of becoming a soldier, I had taken as
my model-man Howard. I was won and almost enchanted by the knowledge
and apparent power he possessed. He seemed above what may be termed the
little trivialities of life, and to have a wide and general view of
everything. To him there seemed to be given a capacity for looking at
all subjects with the power of an impartial judge, and at the same time
he exhibited an enthusiasm for the service which, though toned down by
experience, was yet shown in various ways.
When I had been some weeks in the room with Brag and Snipson, and had
listened to their conversation, was conversant with their ideas and
opinions, I could not but feel disappointed when I knew that two men
with such mean sentiments, cramped ideas, and such disparaging views of
others, should be so near to becoming officers in one or other of the
scientific corps.
One of the charms of Howard was the readiness with which he bestowed
praise on anything or anybody that deserved it. The beauty of the New
Forest, for example, was a subject on which he used to dilate. I was
once with him on a lovely autumnal afternoon, when the sun was lighting
up the richly-tinted foliage of the forest, amidst which the dark green
of the fir-tree was seen; the distant water of the Solent glittering
like silver beyond endless waves of forest glades; the far and
cloudy-looking hills in the island marking the distance, and presenting
a lovely variety of scenery rarely obtainable in England.
Howard stopped and looked at the view, and, with a heartiness that
showed how he appreciated it, exclaimed, "By Jove! that's a lovely bit
of scenery!"
"But," I said, "abroad you must have seen far more beautiful views than
this?"
"Of course I have; I've seen grand mountains rising twelve thousand feet
direct from a plain, and I've seen tropical forests with their branches
hung with wild vine, whilst gorgeous metallic-looking broad-leaved
exotics were scattered about in profusion. But because I've seen that,
it does not prevent this from being a perfect bit of English landscape."
I compared these remarks of Howard's with those of a gentleman who came
to see us some time after Howard had left, and who, on seeing the same
view, exclaimed, "Oh, I dare say you think it very fine, but it's
nothing to what I have seen in other places."
I was young then, and did not know the world or the men comprising it;
so, although an uncomfortable feeling came over when I heard this
remark, I did not know how to account for the difference between the
opinions expressed by Howard and by this visitor. Yet how often in the
world do we meet with persons of both the types I have here referred to!
We meet men with generous minds, ready to acknowledge merit and to
admit its genuineness, who do not condemn that which is good merely
because they have seen or heard that which they consider better. These
men are usually those who have worked and won themselves, and who know
that even mediocrity is not gained without great trouble. They are men
whose praise or good opinion is worth having, for they judge of a matter
on its merits, not by mere comparison.
Others, again, _condemn_ everything which is not what they consider
equal to the very best they have seen or heard. With them it is not the
merit of a subject which is examined or considered, but the comparison
between that and some other. These men are usually ungenerous and
conceited, without the slightest cause for being so. They are men who
would make the unaspiring believe that to work for success was a mere
waste of time--that even if success were gained it would not be worth
having. Such men, and women too, are met everywhere; they are the cold
sheets of society, who do harm to the weak and infirm of purpose, and in
almost every case have no merit of their own, and not one single point
of excellence in their nature.
That which struck me most forcibly during my first half-year, and my
acquaintance with Snipson and Brag, was this "nil admirari" style.
Neither of them had a good word for anybody. The cadet who was head of
his batch before I joined was once discussed by these two, and the
following was the conversation:--
"Some fellows say that London is so awfully clever," said Snipson, "and
got a higher decimal than any fellow has since, about four years ago.
Now, I don't think him a bit clever--in fact, I think him rather stupid,
for he was a most awful `mug.' I don't suppose any fellow swatted
harder than he did his last two terms in order to be head of the batch."
"Oh, any fellow who mugged as he did could be head of a batch!" replied
Brag. "Besides, I don't think passing examinations well is any great
proof of being very clever. I dare say if I set to work I might pass
well, but it's not worth the trouble."
"Hopkins of that batch thinks a deal of himself too," said Snipson,
"because he's third of the batch. Why, I remember the time when I could
beat him at everything; but then I didn't choose to slave away as he
did. There's Dawkins, too, who is fifth; he got to be that I believe
merely by sponging; he was always sneaking about the octagon, pretending
he was hard at work. I hate a fellow doing like that."
Young as I was, I could perceive that neither Brag nor Snipson would
have made such remarks unless they had imagined themselves superior to
all those whom they had mentioned; and the latent belief thus revealed
is, we believe, one of the reasons why the slanderer or even
scandal-monger of society is agreeable to some natures, and produces
abhorrence in others. To the honest, straightforward, hard-working man,
who judges of things by their merits, and who loves the truth and
detests the sham, this system of disparaging is offensive and painful.
To such a nature it is more pleasant to hear the excellence and the good
qualities of people referred to than it is to hear only their defects,
supposed or real, or their evil deeds, or those attributed to them,
referred to.
The thoroughly noble woman who is herself true, and who possesses the
gift of charity, finds no pleasure in the society of a person whose
conversation consists mainly in slandering her neighbours.
The woman who is herself false, and who endeavours to pervert the truth,
finds her vanity gratified when she can hear anything related which
drags her neighbour's name into the mud. As a corollary, therefore, it
may be stated that, given the woman who paints her eyebrows, blackens
her eyelids, powders and tints her face, and there you find to a
certainty the character whose delight is intense when she can glean any
intelligence about her dear friends of such a nature as to damage their
characters, and to retail such intelligence with additions is to her a
luxury.
Having experienced four months of the society of Brag and Snipson, I
could not avoid feeling that they were inferior men, who would never by
fair means make a mark in the world, and who were not desirable either
as friends or enemies.
I had been but a very brief time in Forester's room before I became
deeply interested in him. He used to read a great deal, and had at that
time the rare accomplishment of being able to talk about other matters
beside "shop." He was devoted to soldiering, and had studied carefully
"Napier's Peninsula" and other similar books, and used to talk of a
night, when lights were out, with Fenton about various actions and their
results.
As I look back on those days, I can recall many of the remarks that
Forester made, and have been struck with the value of these, and of
their practical application even now. One, in particular, I remember
was, "that all the extensive theory that we learnt at the Academy would
probably never be of use to one in twenty of the cadets in afterlife,
whilst we should know nothing about certain practical matters when we
became officers, which every non-commissioned officer would be
acquainted with."
"An officer's head," said Forester, "ought to be like a soldier's
knapsack--have a few useful things in it always handy and ready for
use--just the things required for every day."
Once, after a long game of chess with Fenton, Forester remarked that
people said chess and war were very much alike.
"They would be," he said, "more alike if, when playing chess, you were
bound to move within one minute after your adversary, and also if you
had a drum beating in your ears and a fellow shying racket-balls at you.
I believe," he said, "that the men who make the best leaders of troops
are usually hard, strong men, without too much brains, whilst the great
generals and planners of campaigns are quite different men. These
should be careful thinkers, and men with great nervous power, and it is
such men who are most upset by disturbing causes. I have often
thought," continued Forester, "that we ought to have a thinking general
and a working one--the first to think out the moves, the other to
execute them."
Before I had been long in this room, Forester expressed his opinion
about keeping up lights. He said,--
"I think taking away our lights at half-past nine, and leaving us to
undress and go to bed in the dark, is absurd; but when I have said to
the officer on duty that `I have no lights concealed, and no intention
of procuring a light,' I feel bound in honour to act up to what I say."
"But no one really looks upon the usual report about lights as given on
honour," said Fenton.
"I've nothing to do with what other fellows think," said Forester. "I
only know what I state to an officer, and if I keep up lights after
having stated I will not do so, I consider I have `smashed.'" [Note 1.]
I here learnt for the first time the great effect produced on us by the
society in which we mix, and the influence that such society has on our
opinions. When Snipson wished to keep up lights, Brag did not object
from a moral point of view, but because it was not safe. I also turned
my attention to a plan of keeping a light burning without reflecting on
its being dishonourable. Now, however, when Forester expressed his
views about it, I felt I agreed with him, and was ashamed of having
aided Snipson to commit an act which I now looked on as dishonourable.
There were very curious ideas among the cadets in those days. One of
these was, that it was rather a smart thing to get very nearly tipsy--
that is to say, "screwed." If a cadet could prove that he had arrived
at this state through drinking champagne or "old port," he thought
himself a man of judgment and taste. This peculiar opinion was confined
to only a few cadets, a sort of clique, and was much condemned by
Forester.
"There is no doubt," said Forester, "that of all men in the world who
should never be the worse for what they have drunk, a soldier is the
one. He and a driver of an engine, if drunk, may cause the death of
hundreds of men. Besides, a fellow who gets drunk I look on as a fool,
for he must know so little about himself that he cannot tell how much of
anything will make him tipsy. I don't know a more disgusting sight than
to see a man drunk and incapable, and why some fellows here think it
fast I cannot imagine."
In our division was an old cadet named Marsden, who was always boasting
of the wine he had drank when on leave, or when he had been home. It
happened that Marsden's father was an officer retired on full pay; but,
like most officers, he was poor, and, though occasionally he asked
cadets to dinner, he never produced any wines besides sherry, and, as
cadets declared, his sparkling wine was gooseberry. Saumer in those
days was unknown.
More than once Marsden had returned from leave and made a great shouting
in the division, asserting that "the Moet's champagne was so strong."
Forester had more than once made remarks about this proceeding, and at
length, with three or four other cadets who thought the same as he did,
organised a plot against Marsden, which turned out a most amusing
affair, but one somewhat unpleasant to Marsden.
It wanted about half an hour to roll-call one Sunday evening, when
Marsden came into the division shouting.
"There's Marsden again?" said Forester. "Now for a lesson for him!"
Forester got up and went into the passage, where he was joined by three
other cadets, who seemed to have turned out by signal.
"What's the matter, Marsden?" said Forester.
"Beastly screwed on guv'nor's champagne!" said Marsden as he leant
against the wall.
"It's close on roll-call," said Forester, "and the officer will see
you!"
"Blow officer!" muttered Marsden.
"We mustn't let him be discovered," said Forester in a compassionate
tone. "Let's help him out of it."
At a signal, Forester and the other cadets seized Marsden, lifted him
off his legs, and carried him to the back yard--he shouting and
struggling in a half-drunken way. Suddenly, however, he seemed to
foresee what was in store for him, for he called out in quite a sober
tone, "I'm not drunk, Forester; I was only humbugging. I'm not drunk;
I'm not!"
Forester and his companions, whom I had followed, were silent, but very
determined. They paid no attention to these shouts, but took off
Marsden's coattee, and reduced his dress to a pair of trousers and a
shirt. Three cadets then held him, whilst Forester, seizing the handle
of the pump, sent a powerful stream of water over Marsden's head and
down his back.
"Nothing like a cold bath to set a fellow right when he's screwed?" said
Forester, as he worked vigorously at the pump-handle and deluged Marsden
with a cold stream.
"I'm not drunk?" shouted Marsden. "Let me go! I'm not drunk!"
Not the slightest attention was paid to Marsden till he had been fully a
minute under the pump, when he was released with the inquiry as to his
feeling better and more sober.
"I'm not drunk, you confounded donkeys!" shouted Marsden again, in a
great rage.
At this instant the officer on duty, having from his quarters heard the
shouting, came through the division, and, seeing Marsden with his hair
and clothes all wet, and hearing his shouts of "I'm not drunk?" at once
said,--
"Mr Marsden, you're tipsy! You'll be in arrest, sir, till further
orders?"
"I'm not drunk, sir?" said Marsden. "Go to your room, sir, in arrest!"
said the officer, as he walked off from the division.
When Forester came into his room he was in fits of laughter. "If that
won't cure Marsden of shamming I don't know what will!" he said. "It
serves him quite right for humbugging as he does?"
On the following morning Marsden asked Forester to give evidence as to
his not being drank the night before, "for," said Marsden, "you know I
wasn't."
"What?" said Forester; "when you told me you were beastly screwed on
guv'nor's gooseberry--champagne, I mean? You don't mean to say you told
a lie? I was bound to believe you, and did what I thought was best for
you to save you from being seen in the state you were by the officer?"
"But I wasn't screwed!" said Marsden.
"Not when the officer came," replied Forester; "that's very likely. A
powerful shower-bath is a wonderful soberer; and next time you come in
screwed and shouting from the effects of champagne, you'll find it just
as good a cure! No, I can't say you were not screwed; you looked like
being so, and you said you were?"
There was an audible titter on parade that day when the officer on duty
read out, among other orders by the Captain of the Cadet Company, that
Mr Marsden, having been under the influence of drink when returning
from leave on Sunday evening, was to be in arrest for seven days!
Forester's cure was effective. Marsden was never the worse for his
governor's wine after that evening.
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Note 1. "Smashed," in those days, was the familiar term for having
broken one's word of honour.