There were no such thing as scholarships for boys in those days. Even
if there had been I could not have accepted one, as I was now a big boy
of twelve years, eating my parents out of house and home. They wanted
me to earn my own living, or something towards it. I still continued
to sing in the church choir. I had a strong, sweet voice, and at this
time was leading treble. The organist’s son had a sweet voice, but not
so strong as mine, he had to sing second treble. I used to glory in
singing my best, also to hear the tenors, counter tenors, and altos on
my left, over my head, and the bass roaring away on my right. The alto
would lean over and say, “Go it, Eric!”
Once a year we gave a concert at the Town Hall, and very prowd I was to
see my name, “Leading Soprano,” on the bills, all over the town. On one
occasion, after the organist’s son and I had sung a duet, it is usual
for the pianist to play a little twiddly bit after we had finished the
duet, then for us to bow both together, but as soon as the singing part
was finished I “went off,” but seeing my mistake went back and made
another bob, and, oh! the white gloves.
My mother had made me an Eton jacket, (I fear it was a moth-eaten
jacket) out of one of my father’s old coats.
At Christmas we went carol singing, carrying a note from the Vicar. The
people would then ask us in, when we would sing. They would give us
cake and fruit, perhaps a drop of ginger wine, and a few shillings. The
men went by themselves, and sang glees, madrigals, and catches.
On these occasions the older boys would endeavour to give the younger
ones the slip, and lose them. I was served so when I first joined the
choir. I went home, but my father took me back, found out at which
house they were singing at, opened the front door and pushed me in.
My father did not require a boy to help him in the winter, and as his
trade only led one into a “cul de sac,” my mother was more ambitious
for me. My eldest sister had already gone out to service.
So the schoolmaster got me a job with a friend of his, a printer and
stationer. I had to get there by seven o’clock, sweep out, and dust,
open the shop, take down the shutters. After breakfast I went up with
the printers, inked the type with a roller--they used to print by hand
press then; after he had taken an impression, and rolled it back I
inked the type for the next. There were four or five boys. We all had
to meet the eleven o’clock train from London, and carry bundles of
newspapers into the hotel stable. The head boy would allot so many of
each sort to all of us: we folded each paper on the floor, then off on
your round, as per list, but I soon got to know who had the different
papers without the list. The quicker we got round the sooner we had
finished for the day. I got three shillings a week, and was prowd
to hand it over to my mother. My round covered five miles. I still
attended school in the evenings. My brother got a job at a grocer’s
shop: he was a clever kid, but not so “lively” as myself.
Of course, as is usual, about this age, I had a sweetheart, a pupil
of the girls’ school adjoining. I fancy I must have used more than my
share of our weekly allowance of hair oil. For, when you see a boy
begin to be particular about washing his neck, polishing his boots at
the heels, and using the clothes brush a bit, you may be sure there is
a girl on the horizon.
Some of the boys, as they left school, went to Portsmouth, and got a
job as officer’s servants, or something of that sort. Anyhow, when they
got leave, and came home, dressed in a blue suit, short jacket, black
buttons with crown and anchor on them, cheesecutter cap with badge,
white shirt front, and little black tie in a bow, it nearly drove me
crazy. I asked my mother if I could not be one of them. She said, “No.”
All her brothers had been drowned at sea, so she would not let me go.
When I was at the printers I often used to see a page boy, with his
three rows of buttons down the front of his jacket, riding a donkey,
with a post-bag slung across his shoulders. He worked at an old
Admiral’s place a mile out of town, and rode the donkey to the Post
Office twice a day. I envied him. I thought I should like to ride that
donkey.
But when I saw him, about Christmas time, I think it was, he was going
along the street, loaded with postbag and parcels wherever they could
be hung on to him. I suppose the donkey objected to the extra load,
for the donkey bucked and pitched him over its head. There he lay,
struggling in the mud, and took a bit of sorting out among the parcels
and other things. So I thought that does not look very dignified. I
don’t think I should care for his job after all.
At that time boys, to learn a trade, had to be apprenticed for five or
seven years, perhaps be given a little pocket money, but no wages.
My father could not afford to do that.
After working for the printer for some time I got a regular place with
a doctor, a friend of the Vicar. I had to look after a black pony, help
the groom-gardener, who had a cob and riding horse, and in the garden.
I used to help him when I was not out with the doctor in his pony
carriage. He had a daughter, aged about fourteen. I used to think she
was such a lovely creature; she often came with us in the pony carriage
when home on holidays from school. Her father was a widower.
To give an idea what a little fellow I was. When I left the pony’s head
the doctor used to drive on, but I could not get my foot high enough
to reach the step to get into the “dickey” behind; but I used to cling
hold and swing myself up somehow. The doctor never looked back to see
if he had left me behind or not. Often the young lady would hand me
back an orange or an apple. I think the doctor must have had a good
private income, as he kept maidservants, and a footman in livery. It
was a nice place, with lawn and large kitchen garden. I also used to
take round the medicine, and get my meals and sleep at home.
My younger brother had by this time left school and got a job in a
grocer’s shop. We both slept in the same bed. I used to say to him:
“Your clothes does smell strong of coffee.” He replied, “Well, that’s
better than smelling of physic.”
The footman where I worked was the most dare-devil that ever I knew:
a thorough good servant, tall, fair, and slim. I was not supposed to
do any indoor work, but he would make me clean the knives; he would
lock me in the boot hole till I had cleaned them. One day I would not
do something he wanted; he caught me, and held the part I sit on in
front of the open kitchen fire, and then took me out in the yard and
sat me down in the snow. He would do all sorts of things to tease the
gardener. One day it led to a fight in the stable yard. I stood up in
the wheelbarrow to see fair play.
In the summer, at seven o’clock each morning, I had to bring in the two
ponies from the meadow. I was told to catch them and bring them in one
at a time. The groom-gardener would not begin work till eight o’clock;
arrive just in time to sit down to the kitchen breakfast, though he
was not supposed to, it was a regular thing. I had to groom the black
pony: she and I got great friends. She would follow me about like a
dog, take a piece of sugar out of my mouth, and drink beer out of a
glass. One morning, I suppose I was late, I caught both ponies to bring
them in both together. On shutting the gate I suppose it touched them.
I dropped the seive of oats, one pony went one way, the other in the
opposite direction, at full gallop, with their halters dangling. Here
was a pretty pickle. Which pony should I go after? The groom met one of
them, on his way to work, in one part of the town. The other went off
down the High Street, and was brought back by the blacksmith, and I got
a whiging.
But I was perfectly happy in my boyish way while there. Everybody was
so nice and homely, especially when I had to pull up the weeds among
the fruit trees and strawberry beds when they were ripe. But above
all was the cricket matches, played in a large field, seperated from
the garden wall only by a footpath. I remember the year when eleven
played twenty-two, the eleven against all England. W. G. Grace was
in his prime then. I think the eleven won. The field was enclosed by
eight-feet boards all round it, so that no one could see the play
without paying. But we had a grand stand of our own. With the aid of a
short ladder we climbed on to the roof of the chicken house, and had
a fine view. Crowds came from every town for miles round to see the
match. The cricket ground has now been built on.
The Vicar and the Doctor were great friends. Every night the Vicar came
to smoke and drink whiskey toddy. In the morning I had to take “The
Times” to the Vicar’s house, after the doctor had finished with it, on
my way home to breakfast. The Vicar was a queer tempered old fellow. On
Monday mornings he attended school for our Scripture lesson. We used to
say of him:
“Old Parson Jones is a very good man,
He goes to Church on Sundays,
To pray to God to give him strength
To whack us all on Mondays.”
And I have seen him thrash boys with his ash stick most unmercifully,
almost brutal. His clerk was gardener as well, a tall man who walked
with his eyes always on the ground. In the Vicar’s carriage drive was
an almond tree. I was curious as to whether there were any almonds
in the pods, so one morning I climbed the tree and was laid out on a
branch over the carriage drive when I heard footsteps approaching. I
laid dogo: he passed underneath me. I could have touched his hat, but
he did not see me.
When it was the cook’s day out at the Vicarage my mother used to go
there to assist. One morning, thinking to give the other servants a
treat, she made some apple dumplings, and put them in the flour tub,
covering them up. Then she went upstairs to assist making the beds,
etc., as there was a large family. On arriving back to the kitchen she
saw all the apple dumplings in a long row on the kitchen table. Mrs.
Vicar had been on the rummage while my mother had been upstairs. So,
instead of the apple dumplings being eaten in the kitchen, they found
their way to the dining room and were eaten there.
I often used to do errands for the cook when going to the town. One
day she popped a rhaspberry tart in my basket as I went out. It was an
open tart; I popped it in my mouth. It was boiling hot, just out of the
oven. It took the skin off the roof of my mouth. I can never see or
smell rhaspberries without thinking of that tart, and that was fifty
years ago.
I was always very fond of lemons. I could not see one unless I had a
desire to suck it dry. There was generally half a lemon in the pantry
that came off the grog tray: I had a go at it. The footman noticed
this. One day he filled the half lemon with cayenne pepper and went
out, but returned the next minute. My mouth was on fire, I wanted to
bolt, but he held me, saying, “I knew you would do it.” The footman
would make up a mixture of vinegar, salt, mustard, Worcester sauce,
lemon juice, and all sorts of stuff, and try to make the errand boys
who came to the house to drink it. One morning he came with me to
catch the ponies in the meadow, we twisted the halter in their mouths,
mounted, and galloped round the meadow; of course I fell off.
After being there for some time the footman left. He got married,
and went to London, in service there. The Doctor said he would take
me indoors in his place. The cook got hold of me; she gave me a good
scrubbing down with soap and hot water. I was only a young boy, or I
might have blushed. This was my first step into captivity.
Here was a young, healthy boy, with a good education, with any amount
of health, spirits and energy, with a determination to do as the
schoolmaster had taught us. To play the game: be truthful, honest,
and never to do a mean action: in fact to be a nature’s gentleman. I
thought to myself, “Well, I mean to get to the top; there seems to be
nothing else for me but gentleman’s service.”
Why not get to be the King’s butler? Then I thought of Pharoh’s
butler, but on referring to the chapter I found it was all right:
it was Pharoh’s baker whose carcase was thrown out for the birds to
pick. Not the butler. No doubt, had I been apprenticed to a trade
I should have made my mark in the world, some trade that required
cleverness and brains. Any fool could learn to be a servant, providing
he had no spirit or will of his own, and did what he was told, and be
meek, humble, submissive. I have often wished I had a trade, making
something, or doing something, and only being paid by results: the
more work I did the more pay I got. If no work, no pay. Here would be
something worth living for. For although I have lived in the service
of some of the best families in the land (and how near I got to being
the King’s butler my tale will unfold) I consider my life to have been
simply thrown away, wasted.
Now I had to begin to learn the mysteries of indoor service, which was
as a sealed book to me, but, being very quick, I soon began to see
what was wanted in the dining room. The footman had put me through a
good deal of the pantry work, as he was not too fond of work himself.
I had to leave the choir, as I could not get away for practice, or on
Sundays for that matter. Still, I was happy enough, the other servants
treated me well, I got better food and lodgings than I got at home,
and I was growing fast into a chubby, blue-eyed, curley-haired lad,
and began to take pride in my appearance. But I was like a young,
rollicking puppy, “I had all my troubles to come.”
When I was in the gardens I took a small sucker from a high holly hedge
and planted it in our little flower bed in front of our house at home.
The next time I went home the holly twig was not there. I enquired, and
found that a boy who lived a few doors away, had taken it, and planted
it in his own front garden. I pulled it up and took it back to where it
was before, then waited till the boy came out. I tackled him, we had a
fight, I soon settled him.
The holly twig was not disturbed again, but in years grew nearly as
high as the house. My mother had to have it cut down, as it kept so
much light from the windows.
I remained with the Doctor till he gave up the house, and left the
town. He sent to ask my mother to come and see him. He wanted to know
if he could do anything for my future. I said I wanted to go to sea,
if not in the Royal Navy, the Merchantile Marine, for I had read a lot
of sea tales, “The King’s Own,” “Robinson Crusoe,” and a lot more of
Captain Marriat’s books. But my mother would not consent. In the end
nothing was done for me. The Doctor left the town, after everything was
sold, and I went home.
Some years after, when I was at Eastbourne, I saw a young lady in a
bath chair. Surely I know that beautiful face, I thought. It was the
Doctor’s daughter. She died shortly afterwards, of what they called the
decline. No one mourned her more than I did, for she appeared to me to
be an angel on earth.
I was not long unemployed, for an old General, or Captain, I think he
was of His Majesties’ Body Guard, sent for me. I went to see him--it
was near my former place, and I suppose they had seen me about while
I was with the Doctor. They engaged me as their footboy, put me into
footman’s livery (I never wore page’s buttons). But, oh! what a place!
The old Captain had married a second wife, young enough to be his
daughter: she was all mustard. After I had put away the breakfast
things I had to go into the kitchen garden and dig up large tracts of
rough ground with a spade till it was time to lay the lunch, when I had
to put on the livery and prepare for afternoon visitors.
Which reminds me of an old Scotch lady who got hold of a raw Scotch
boy and tried to train him as a page boy. She dressed him in kilts on
special occasions when she had company. On one such occasion he popped
his head round the drawing room door and asked: “D’ye require me to
wear the kilts, or my ain breeks, the day?”
The food was very poor and scarce. But, talk about “Swank,” on Sundays
I had to carry her church books behind her, dressed in livery, follow
her down the aisle, place the books in her pew, then go to my own
place. When the service was ended I had to go and get the books, and
follow her back to the house, which was of walking distance, and,
thank goodness, it was not the same church where I used to sing in the
choir. After church I was allowed to go home for a few minutes, which
I did, in the livery and top hat with a cockade. At that time I lost
my sweetheart. She said she would not have a flunkey for a sweetheart,
besides, I could never get out to see her.
Pray do not think I was resting, although I was in the house in the
afternoon. It was a large, new house and the lady was constantly
re-arranging the furniture. I had to carry it up and down stairs, try
it here, try it there, so that by the time I had to go to bed I was
as tired as a dog: she would keep me constantly on. Which reminds me
of a little general servant. Some years ago it was compulsory to be
vaccinated, through the outbreak of some disease in England. The Doctor
was about to vaccinate the girl, when she asked him if she would be
able to use her arm to do her work. He replied, “No, you will have to
rest your arm.” She asked, “_Must_ you do it on my arm?--I don’t get
any time for sitting down,” as an afterthought.
When requiring a boy for gentleman’s service most employers apply to
the clergyman or schoolmaster to see if they have a suitable boy just
leaving school that would be suitable for a beginner. They generally
select a delicate boy that would crumple up if put to hard outdoor
work. Hence one sees the pasty-faced footmen and butlers, when front
doors open, the result of the want of fresh air. For my part, I
began to feel like a young lion in chains. I missed my games with my
schoolmates at evening time.
At the place I was then at they could not keep their servants. I saw
three cooks in the short time I was there, the last one, who was
shortly to be married, bolted one night, for she could not get away in
the daytime, as the old Captain or his wife were always watching. Her
fiancée brought her a rope, and came one night. She let her box down
out of the bedroom window with the rope: in the morning they found she
was gone, box and all.
No one was allowed to come to the house to see the servants. One day my
mother sent some clean linen for me by my little brother. I talked to
him for a few minutes, when I heard the lady coming down the kitchen
stairs. I was frightened. I did not know what to do, so I popped him
in the cupboard where the firewood was kept by the side of the kitchen
fireplace. She asked, “Where is that boy that came in the gate? We saw
him come in, and have not seen him go out.” I said, “He’s gone, Mam.”
She went back and watched. When I thought all was safe I let him out,
but as he passed the front door, they both pounced on and seized him,
demanded of him where he had been. He told them he had been waiting. So
he had: he had been waiting for a chance to get out of the cupboard. My
mother would not let me remain long in such a place, whose reputation
was not very good in the town, so I left shortly after. I began to
think to myself if this is gentleman’s service I have had enough of it
allready.
When I was with the Doctor we often used to go to a large old-fashioned
house about a mile out of town. The gentleman used to drive his yellow
four-in-hand coach. I was awed when I saw the pompous butler and two
powdered footmen with red breeches and white silk stockings, come to
the front door, and wonder if I should ever be like they were. One
day I had to take a note there and wait a reply. The footman took me
in, along a broad passage, opened a door and pushed me in, saying,
“Someone to see you, ladies!” I thought they were ladies, all sitting
round the room at needlework. I found out afterwards it was the
house-maids’ room.