SCHOOL LIFE
Marlborough "College," as we say in England for a large University
preparatory school, is situated in Wiltshire, in a perfectly beautiful
country, close to the Savernake Forest--one of the finest in all
England. As everything and everybody was strange to me on my arrival,
had I been brought up to be less self-reliant the events of my first
day or two would probably have impressed themselves more deeply on my
memory than is the case. Some Good Samaritan, hearing that I was bound
for a certain house, allowed me to follow him from the station to the
inn--for a veritable old inn it was. It was one of those lovely old
wayside hostels along the main road to the west, which, with the
decline of coaching days, found its way into the market, and had
fallen to the hammer for the education of youth. Exactly how the
adaptation had been accomplished I never quite understood. The
building formed the end of a long avenue of trees and was approached
through high gates from the main road. It was flanked on the east side
by other houses, which fitted in somewhat inharmoniously, but served
as school-rooms, dining-hall, chapel, racquets and fives courts,
studies, and other dwelling-houses. The whole was entirely enclosed so
that no one could pass in or out, after the gates were shut, without
ringing up the porter from his lodge, and having one's name taken as
being out after hours. At least it was supposed that no one could,
though we boys soon found that there were more ways than one leading
to Rome.
The separate dwelling-houses were named A, B, and C. I was detailed
to C House, the old inn itself. Each house was again divided into
three, with its own house master, and its own special colour and
badges. Our three were at the time "Sharps," "Upcutts," and "Bakers."
Our particular one occupied the second floor, and was reached by great
oak staircases, which, if you were smart, you could ascend at about
six steps at a time. This was often a singular desideratum, because
until you reached the fifth form, according to law you ascended by the
less direct back stairway.
Our colours were white and maroon, and our sign a bishop's
mitre--which effigy I still find scribbled all over the few book
relics which I have retained, and which emblem, when borne
subsequently on my velvet football cap, proved to be the nearest I
ever was to approach to that dignified insignia.
My benefactor, on the night of my arrival, having done more for me
than a new boy could expect of an old one, was whirled off in the
stream of his returning chums long before I had found my resting-place
for the night. The dormitory to which I at last found myself assigned
contained no less than twenty-five beds, and seemed to me a veritable
wilderness. If the coaches which used to stop here could have ascended
the stairs, it might have accommodated several. What useful purpose it
could have served in those far-off days I never succeeded in deciding.
The room most nearly like it which I can recall is the old dining-hall
of a great manor, into which the knights in armour rode on horseback
to meals, that being far less trouble than removing one's armour, and
quite as picturesque. More or less amicably I obtained possession of a
bed in a good location, under a big window which looked out over the
beautiful gardens below. I cannot remember that I experienced any of
those heart-searchings or forebodings which sentiment deplores as the
inevitable lot of the unprotected innocent.
One informal battle during the first week with a boy possessed of the
sanctity of having come up from the lower school, and therefore being
an "old boy," achieved for me more privileges than the actual decision
perhaps entitled one to enjoy, namely, being left alone. I
subsequently became known as the "Beast," owing to my belligerent
nature and the undue copiousness of my hair.
The fact that I was placed in the upper fourth form condemned me to do
my "prep" in the intolerable barrack called "Big School"--a veritable
bear-garden to which about three hundred small boys were relegated to
study. Order was kept by a master and a few monitors, who wandered to
and fro from end to end of the building, while we were supposed to
work. For my part, I never tried it, partly because the work came very
easy to me, while the "repetition" was more readily learned from a
loose page at odd times like dinner and chapel, and partly because,
winning a scholarship during the term, I was transferred to a building
reserved for twenty-eight such privileged individuals until they
gained the further distinction of a place in the house class-room, by
getting their transfer into the fifth form.
Besides those who lived in the big quad there were several houses
outside the gates, known as "Out-Houses." The boys there fared a good
deal better than we who lived in college, and I presume paid more
highly for it. Our meals were served in "Big Hall," where the whole
four hundred of us were fed. The meals were exceptionally poor; so
much so that we boys at the beginning of term formed what we called
brewing companies--which provided as far as possible breakfasts and
suppers for ourselves all term. As a protection against early
bankruptcy, it was our custom to deposit our money with a rotund but
popular school official, known always by a corruption of his name as
"the Slug." Every Saturday night he would dole out to you your deposit
made on return from the holidays, divided into equal portions by the
number of weeks in the term. Once one was in the fifth form, brewing
became easy, for one had a right to a place on the class-room fire for
one's kettle or saucepan. Till then the space over gas stoves in Big
School being strictly limited, the right was only acquired "vi et
armis." Moreover, most of the fourth form boys and the "Shells," a
class between them and the fifth, if they had to work after evening
chapel, had to sit behind desks around the house class-room facing the
centre, in which as a rule the fifth form boys were lazily cooking and
devouring their suppers. Certain parts of those repasts, like
sausages, we would import ready cooked from the "Tuck Shop," and hence
they only needed warming up. Breakfast in Big School was no comfort to
one, and personally I seldom attended it. But at dinner and tea one
had to appear, and remain till the doors were opened again. It was a
kind of roll-call; and the penalty for being late was fifty lines to
be written out. As my own habits were never as regular as they should
have been, whenever I was able to keep ahead, I possessed pages of
such lines, neatly written out during school hours and ready for
emergencies. On other occasions I somewhat shamefacedly recall that I
employed other boys, who devoted less time to athletics than was my
wont, to help me out--their only remuneration being the "joy of
service."
The great desire of every boy who could hope to do so was to excel in
athletics. This fact has much to commend it in such an educational
system, for it undoubtedly kept its devotees from innumerable worse
troubles and dangers. All athletics were compulsory, unless one had
obtained permanent exemption from the medical officer. If one was not
chosen to play on any team during the afternoon, each boy had to go to
gymnasium for drill and exercises, or to "flannel" and run round the
Aylesbury Arms, an old public house three quarters of a mile distant.
Any breach of this law was severely punished by the boys themselves.
It involved a "fives batting," that is, a "birching" carried out with
a hardwood fives bat, after chapel in the presence of the house. As a
breach of patriotism, it carried great disgrace with it, and was very,
very seldom necessary.
Experience would make me a firm believer in
self-government--determination is the popular term now, I believe. No
punishments ever touched the boys one tenth part as much as those
administered by themselves. On one occasion two of the Big School
monitors, who were themselves notorious far more for their constant
breaches of school law than for their observance of it, decided to
make capital at the expense of the sixth form. One day, just as the
dinner-bell rang, they locked the sixth form door, while a conclave
was being held inside. Though everyone was intended to know to whom
the credit belonged, it was understood that no one would dream of
giving evidence against them. But it so happened that their voices had
been recognized from within by one of the sixth form boys--and
"bullies" and unpopular though the culprits were, they wouldn't deny
their guilt. Their condign punishment was to be "fives-batted"
publicly in Big School--in which, however, they regained very
considerable popularity by the way they took a "spanking" without
turning a hair, though it cost no less than a dozen bats before it
was over.
The publicity of Big School was the only redemption of such a
bear-garden, but that was a good feature. It served to make us toe the
line. After tea, it was the custom to have what we called "Upper
School Boxing." A big ring was formed, boxing-gloves provided, and any
differences which one might have to settle could be arranged there.
There was more energy than science about the few occasions on which I
appeared personally in the ring, but it was an excellent safety-valve
and quite an evolutionary experience.
The exigency of having to play our games immediately after noon dinner
had naturally taught the boys at the head of athletic affairs that it
was not wise to eat too much. Dinner was the one solid meal which the
college provided, and most of us wanted it badly enough when it came
along, especially the suet puddings which went by the name of
"bollies" and were particularly satisfying. But whenever any game of
importance was scheduled, a remorseless card used to be passed round
the table just after the meat stage, bearing the ominous legend "No
bolly to-day." To make sure that there were no truants, all hands were
forced to "Hooverize." Oddly enough, beer in large blue china jugs was
freely served at every dinner. We called it "swipes," and boys,
however small, helped themselves to as much as they liked. Moreover,
as soon as the game was over, all who had their house colours might
come in and get "swipes" served to them freely through the buttery
window. Both practices, I believe, have long since fortunately fallen
into desuetude.
To encourage the budding athlete there was an excellent custom of
classifying not only the players who attained the first team; but
beyond them there were "the Forty" who wore velvet caps with tassels,
"the Sixty" who wore velvet caps with silver braid, "the Eighty," and
even "the Hundred"--all of whom were posted from time to time, and so
stimulated their members to try for the next grade.
Like every other school there were bounds beyond which one might not
go, and therefore beyond which one always wanted to go. Compulsory
games limited the temptation in that direction very considerably; and
my own breaches were practically always to get an extra swim. We had
an excellent open-air swimming pool, made out of a branch of the river
Kenneth, and were allowed one bathe a day, besides the dip before
morning chapel, which only the few took, and which did not count as a
bathe. The punishment for breaking the rule was severe, involving a
week off for a first offence. But one was not easily caught, for even
a sixth-former found hundreds of naked boys very much alike in the
water, and the fact of any one having transgressed the limit was very
hard to detect. Nor were we bound to incriminate ourselves by replying
to leading questions.
"Late for Gates" was a more serious crime, involving detention from
beloved games--and many were the expedients to which we resorted to
avoid such an untoward contingency. I remember well waiting for an
hour outside the porter's view, hoping for some delivery wagon to give
me a chance to get inside. For it was far too light to venture to
climb the lofty railings before "prep" time. Good fortune ordained,
however, that a four-wheel cab should come along in time, containing
the parents of a "hopeful" in the sick-room. It seemed a desperate
venture, for to "run" the gate was a worse offence than being late and
owning up. But we succeeded by standing on the off step, unquestioned
by the person inside, who guessed at once what the trouble was, and
who proved to be sport enough to engage the porter while we got clear.
Later on a scapegrace who had more reason to require some by-way than
myself, revealed to me a way which involved a long detour and a climb
over the laundry roof. Of this, on another occasion, I was sincerely
glad to avail myself. One of the older boys, I remember, made a much
bolder venture. He waited till dusk, and then boldly walked in through
the masters' garden. As luck would have it, he met our form master,
whom we will call Jones, walking the other way. It so happened he
possessed a voice which he knew was much like that of another master,
so simply sprinting a little he called out, "Night, night, Jones," and
got by without discovery.
Our chapel in those days was not a thing of beauty; but since then it
has been rebuilt (out of our stomachs, the boys used to say) and is a
model work of art. Attendance at chapel was compulsory, and no "cuts"
were allowed. Moreover, once late, you were given lines, besides
losing your chapel half-holiday. So the extraordinary zeal exhibited
to be marked off as present should not be attributed to religious
fervour. The chapel was entered from quad by two iron gates, with the
same lofty railings which guarded the entrance on each side. The bell
tolled for five minutes, then was silent one minute, and then a single
toll was given, called "stroke." At that instant the two masters who
stood by the pillars guarding each gate, jumped across, closing the
gates if they could, and every one outside was late. Those inside the
open walk--the length of the chapel that led to the doors at the far
end--then continued to march in.
During prayers each form master sat opposite his form, all of which
faced the central aisle, and marked off those present. Almost every
morning half-dressed boys, with shirts open and collars unbuttoned,
boots unlaced, and jumping into coats and waistcoats as they dashed
along, could be seen rushing towards the gate during the ominous
minute of silence. There was always time to get straight before the
mass of boys inside had emptied into chapel; and I never remember a
gate master stopping a boy before "stroke" for insufficiency of
coverings. Many were the subterfuges employed to get excused, and
naturally some form masters were themselves less regular than others,
though you never could absolutely count on any particular one being
absent. Twice in my time gates were rushed--that is, when "stroke"
went such crowds of flying boys were just at the gate that the masters
were unable to stop the onslaught, and were themselves brushed aside
or knocked down under the seething mass of panic-stricken would-be
worshippers. On one of these occasions we were forgiven--"stroke" was
ten seconds early; on the other a half-holiday was stopped, as one of
the masters had been injured. To trip one's self up, and get a bloody
nose, and possibly a face scratched on the gravel, and then a "sick
cut" from the kindly old school doctor, was one of the more common
ways boys discovered of saving their chapel half--when it was a very
close call.
The school surgery was presided over in my day by a much-beloved old
physician of the old school, named Fergus, which the boys had so long
ago corrupted into "Fungi" that many a lad was caught mistakenly
addressing the old gentleman as Dr. Fungi--an error I always fancied
to be rather appreciated.
By going to surgery you could very frequently escape evening chapel--a
very desirable event if you had a "big brew" coming off in class-room,
for you could get things cooked and have plenty of room on the fire
before the others were out. But one always had to pay for the
advantage, the old doctor being very much addicted to potions. I never
shall forget the horrible tap in the corner, out of which "cough
mixture" flowed as "a healing for the nations," but which, nasty as it
was, was the cheapest price at which one could purchase the cut. Some
boys, anxious to cut lessons, found that by putting a little soap in
one's eye, that organ would become red and watery. This they practised
so successfully that sometimes for weeks they would be forbidden to do
lessons on account of "eye-strain." They had to use lotions,
eye-shades, and every spectacle possible was tried, but all to no
avail. Sometimes they used so much soap that I was sure the doctor
would suspect the bubbles.
I had two periods in sick-room with a worrying cough, where the time
was always made so pleasant that one was not tempted to hasten
recovery. Diagnosis, moreover, was not so accurate in those days as it
might have been, and the dear old doctor took no risks. So at the age
of sixteen I was sent off for a winter to the South of France, with
the diagnosis of congestion of the lungs.
One of my aunts, a Miss Hutchinson, living at Hyeres in the South of
France, was delighted to receive me. With a widowed friend and two
charming and athletic daughters, she had a very pretty villa on the
hills overlooking the sea. My orders--to live out of doors--were very
literally obeyed. In light flannel costumes we roamed the hills after
moths and butterflies, early and late. We kept the frogs in miniature
ponds in boxes covered with netting, providing them with bamboo
ladders to climb, and so tell us when it was going to be wet weather.
We had also enclosures in which we kept banks of trap-door spiders,
which used to afford us intense interest with their clever artifices.
To these we added the breeding of the more beautiful butterflies and
moths, and so, without knowing that we were learning, we were taught
many and valuable truths of life. There were horses to ride also, and
a beautiful "plage" to bathe upon. It was always sunny and warm, and I
invariably look back on that winter as spent in paradise. I was
permitted to go over with a young friend to the Carnival at Nice,
where, disguised as a clown, and then as a priest, with the _abandon_
of boys, we enjoyed every moment of the time--the world was so big and
wonderful. The French that I had very quickly learned, as we always
spoke it at our villa, stood me on this occasion in good stead. But
better still, I happened, when climbing into one of the
flower-bedecked carriages parading in the "bataille de fleurs"--which,
being in costume, was quite the right thing to do--to find that the
owner was an old friend of my family, one Sir William Hut. He at once
carried me to his home for the rest of the Carnival, and, of course,
made it doubly enjoyable.
A beautiful expedition, made later in that region which lives in my
memory, was to the gardens at La Mortola, over the Italian line, made
famous by the frequent visits of Queen Victoria to them. They were
owned by Sir Thomas Hanbury, whose wife was my aunt's great friend.
The quaintness of the memories which persist longest in one's mind
often amuse me. We used, as good Episcopalians, to go every Sunday to
the little English Church on the rue des Palmiers. Alas, I can
remember only one thing about those services. The clergyman had a
peculiar impediment in his speech which made him say his _h_'s and
_s_'s, both as _sh_. Thus he always said _sh_uman for _h_uman, and
invariably prayed that God might be pleased to "shave the Queen." He
nearly got me into trouble once or twice through it.
About the middle of the winter I realized that I had made a mistake.
In writing home I had so enthusiastically assured my father that the
place was suiting my health, that he wrote back that he thought in
that case I might stand a little tutoring, and forthwith I was
despatched every morning to a Mr. B., an Englishman, whose house,
called the "Hermitage," was in a thick wood. I soon discovered that
Mr. B. was obliged to live abroad for his health, and that the
coaching of small boys was only a means to that end. He was a good
instructor in mathematics, a study which I always loved, but he
insisted on my taking Latin and French literature, for neither of
which I had the slightest taste. I consequently made no effort
whatever to improve my mind, a fact which did not in the least disturb
his equanimity. The great interest of those journeys to the Hermitage
were the fables of La Fontaine--which I learned as repetition and
enjoyed--and the enormous number of lizards on the walls, which could
disappear with lightning rapidity when seen, though they would stay
almost motionless, waiting for a fly to come near, which they then
swallowed alive. They were so like the stones one could almost rub
one's nose against them without seeing them. Each time I started, I
used to cut a little switch for myself and try to switch them off
their ledges before they vanished. The attraction to the act lay in
that it was almost impossible to accomplish. But if you did they
scored a bull's-eye by incontinently discarding their tails, which
made them much harder to catch next time, and seemed in no way to
incommode them, though it served to excuse my conscience of cruelty.
At the same time I have no wish to pose as a protector of flies.
Returning to Marlborough School the following summer, I found that my
father, who knew perfectly the thorough groundwork I had received in
Greek and Latin, had insisted on my being given a remove into the
lower fifth form "in absentia." Both he and I were aware that I could
do the work easily; but the form master resented it, and had already
protested in vain. I believe he was a very good man in his way, and
much liked by those whom he liked. But alas, I was not one of them;
and never once, during the whole time I was in his form, did I get one
single word of encouragement out of him. My mathematical master, and
"stinks," or chemical master, I was very fond of, and in both those
departments I made good progress.
The task of keeping order in a chemistry class of boys is never easy.
The necessary experiments divert the master's eye from the class, and
always give opportunity for fooling. Added to this was the fact that
our "stinks" master, like many scientific teachers, was far too
good-natured, and half-enjoyed himself the diversion which his
experiments gave. When obliged to punish a boy caught "flagrante
delicto," he invariably looked out for some way to make it up to him
later. It was the odd way he did it which endeared him to us, as if
apologizing for the kindness. Thus, on one occasion, suddenly in most
righteous anger, just as if a parenthesis to the remark he was making,
he interposed, "Come and be caned, boy. My study, twelve o'clock."
When the boy was leaving, very unrepentant after keeping the
appointment, in the same parenthetical way the master remarked, "Go
away, boy. Cake and wine, my room, five o'clock"--which proved
eventually the most effective part of the correction.
To children there always appears a gap between them and "grown-ups"
as impassable as that which Abraham is made to describe as so great
that they who would pass to and fro cannot. As we grow older, we cease
to see it, but it exists all the same. As I write, five children are
romping through this old wood on broom-handle horses. One has just
fallen. A girl of twelve at once retorts, "Do get up, Willy, your
horse is always throwing you off." The joys of life lie in us, not in
things; and in childhood imagination is so big, its joys so entirely
uncloyed. Sometimes grown-ups are apt to grudge the time and trouble
put into apparently transient pleasures. A trivial strawberry feast,
given to children on our dear old lawn under the jasmine and
rose-bushes, something after the order of a New England clam-bake,
still looms as a happy memory of my parents' love for children,
punctuated by the fact that though by continuing a game in spite of
warning I broke a window early in the afternoon, and was banished to
the nursery "as advised," my father forgave me an hour later, and
himself fetched me down again to the party.
To teach us independence, my father put us on an allowance at a very
early age, with a small bank account, to which every birthday he added
five pounds on our behalf. We had no pony at that time, indeed had not
yet learned to ride, so our deposits always went by the name of "pony
money." This was an excellent plan, for we didn't yet value money for
itself, and were better able to appreciate the joy of giving because
it seemed to postpone the advent of our pony. However, when we were
thought to have learned to value so sentient a companion and to be
likely to treat him properly, a Good Samaritan was permitted to
present us with one of our most cherished friends. To us, she was an
unparalleled beauty. How many times we fell over her head, and over
her tail, no one can record. She always waited for you to remount, so
it didn't much matter; and we were taught that great lesson in life,
not to be afraid of falling, but to learn how to take a fall. My own
bent, however, was never for the things of the land, and though
gallops on the Dee Sands, and races with our cousins, who owned a
broncho and generally beat us, had their fascination, boats were the
things which appealed most to me.
Having funds at our disposal, we were allowed to purchase material,
and under the supervision of a local carpenter, to build a boat
ourselves. To this purpose our old back nursery was forthwith
allocated. The craft which we desired was a canoe that would enable us
to paddle or drift along the deep channels of the river, and allow us
to steal upon the flocks of birds feeding at the edges. Often in
memory I enjoy those days again--the planning, the modelling, the
fitting, the setting-up, and at last, the visit of inspection of our
parents. Alas, stiff-necked in our generation, we had insisted on
straight lines and a square stern. Never shall I forget the
indignation aroused in me by a cousin's remark, "It looks awful like a
coffin." The resemblance had not previously struck either of us, and
father had felt that the joke was too dangerous a one to make, and had
said nothing. But the pathos of it was that we now saw it all too
clearly. My brother explained that the barque was intended to be not
"seen." Ugliness was almost desirable. It might help us if we called
it the "Reptile," and painted it red--all of which suggestions were
followed. But still I remember feeling a little crestfallen, when
after launching it through the window, it lay offensively resplendent
against the vivid green of the grass. It served, however, for a time,
ending its days honourably by capsizing a friend and me, guns and all,
into the half-frozen water of the lower estuary while we were
stalking some curlew. I had to run home dripping. My friend's gun,
moreover, having been surreptitiously borrowed from my cousin's
father, was recovered the following day, to our unutterable relief.
Out of the balance of the money spent on the boat, we purchased a
pin-fire, breech-loading gun, the pride of my life for many days. I
was being kept back from school at the time on account of a cold, but
I was not surprised to find myself next day sitting in a train, bound
for Marlborough, and "referred once more to my studies."
A little later my father, not being satisfied, took me away to read
with a tutor for the London matriculation, in which without any
trouble, I received a first class.
A large boarding-school in England is like a miniature world. One
makes many acquaintances, who change as one gets pushed into new
classes, so at that stage one makes few lasting friends. Those who
remain till they attain the sixth form, and make the school teams,
probably form more permanent friendships. I at least think of that
period as one when one's bristles were generally up, and though many
happy memories linger, and I have found that to be an old Marlburian
is a bond of friendship all the world over, it is the little oddities
which one remembers best.
A new scholarship boy had one day been assigned to the closed
corporation of our particular class-room. To me he had many
attractions, for he was a genius both in mathematics and chemistry. We
used to love talking over the problems that were set us as voluntary
tasks for our spare time; and our united excursions in those
directions were so successful that we earned our class more than one
"hour off," as rewards for the required number of stars given for good
pieces of work. My friend had, however, no use whatever for
athletics. He had never been from home before, had no brothers, and
five sisters, was the pet of his parents, and naturally somewhat of a
square plug in a round hole in our school life. He hated all
conventions, and was always in trouble with the boys, for he entirely
neglected his personal appearance, while his fingers were always
discoloured with chemicals, and he would not even feign an interest in
the things for which they cared. I can remember him sitting on the
foot of my bed, talking me to sleep more than once with some new plan
he had devised for a self-steering torpedo or an absolutely reliable
flying machine. He had received the sobriquet of "Mad G.," and there
was some justice in it from the opposition point of view. I had not
realized, however, that he was being bullied--on such a subject he
would never say a syllable--till one day as he left class-room I saw a
large lump of coal hit him square on the head, and a rush of blood
follow it that made me hustle him off to surgery. Scalp wounds are not
so dangerous as they are bloody to heads as thick as ours. His
explanation that he had fallen down was too obvious a distortion of
truth to deceive even our kindly old doctor. But he asked no further
question, seeing that it was a point of honour. The matter, however,
forced an estrangement between myself and some of my fellows that I
realized afterwards was excellent for me. Forthwith we moved my
friend's desk into my corner of the room which was always safe when I
was around, though later some practices of the others to which I took
exception led to a combination which I thought of then as that made by
the Jews to catch Paul, and which I foiled in a similar way,
watchfully eluding them when they were in numbers together, but always
ready to meet one or two at a time. The fact that I had just taken up
"racquets" impressed it on my memory, for considering the class-room
temporarily unsafe for "prep" work, I used that building as a
convenient refuge for necessary study. It would have been far better
to have fought it out and taken, if unavoidable, whatever came to
me--had it been anywhere else I should probably have done so. But the
class-room was a close corporation for Foundation scholars, and not
one of my chums had access to it to see fair play.
My friendship for "Mad G." was largely tempered by my own love for
anything athletic, and eccentricities paid a very heavy price among
all boys. Thus, though I was glad to lend my protection to my friend,
we never went about together--as such boys as he always lived the life
of hermits in the midst of the crowd. I well remember one other boy,
made eccentric by his peculiar face and an unfortunate impediment of
speech. No such boy should have been sent to an English public school
as it was in my day. His stutter was no ordinary one, for it
consisted, not in repeating the first letter or syllable, but in
blowing out both cheeks like a balloon, and making noises which
resembled a back-firing motor engine. It was the custom of our form
master to make us say our repetition by each boy taking one line, the
last round being always "expressed"--that is, unless you started
instantly the boy above you finished, the next boy began, and took
your place. I can still see and hear the unfortunate J. getting up
steam for his line four or five boys ahead of time, so that he might
explode at the right moment, which desirable end, however, he but very
rarely accomplished, and never catching up, he used, like the man in
the parable, always to "begin with shame to take the lowest place."
Sometimes the master in a merciful mood allowed us to write the line;
but that was risky, for it was considered no disgrace to circumvent
him, and under those circumstances it was very easy for the next boy
to write his own and then yours, and pass it along if he saw you were
in trouble.
There was, and I think with some reason, a pride among the boys on
their appearance on certain occasions. It went by the name of "good
form." Thus on Sundays at morning chapel, we always wore a button-hole
flower if we could. My dear mother used to post me along a little box
of flowers every week--nor was it by any means wasted energy, for not
only did the love for flowers become a hobby and a custom with many of
us through life, and a help to steer clear of sloppiness in
appearance, but it was a habit quite likely to spread to the soul. But
beyond that, the picture of my dear mother, with the thousand worries
of a large school of small boys on her hands, finding time to gather,
pack, address, and post each week with her own hands so fleeting and
inessential a token of her love, has a thousand times arisen to my
memory, and led me to consider some apparently quite unnecessary
little labour of love as being well worth the time and trouble. It is
these deeds of love--not words, however touching--that never fade from
the soul, and to the last make their appeal to the wandering boy to
"arise" and do things.
Like everything else this fastidiousness can be overdone, and I
remember once a boy's legal guardian showing me a bill for a hundred
pounds sterling that his ward had incurred in a single term for cut
flowers. Yet "form" is a part of the life of all English schools, and
the boys think much more of it than sin. At Harrow you may not walk in
the middle of the road as a freshman; and in American schools and
universities, such regulations as the "Fence" laws at Yale show that
they have emulated and even surpassed us in these. It was, however, a
very potent influence, and we were always ridiculously sensitive about
breaches of it. Thus, on a certain prize day my friend "Mad G.,"
having singularly distinguished himself in his studies, his parents
came all the way from their home, at great expense to themselves, to
see their beloved and only son honoured. I presume that, though wild
horses would not drag anything out of the boy at school, he had
communicated to them the details of some little service rendered. For
to my horror I was stopped by his mother, whom I subsequently learned
to love and honour above most people, and actually kissed while
walking in the open quad--strutting like a peacock, I suppose, for I
remember feeling as if the bottom had suddenly fallen out of the
earth. The sequel, however, was an invitation to visit their home in
North Wales for the Christmas holidays, where there was rough
shooting,--the only kind I really cared for,--boating, rock-climbing,
bathing, and the companionship of as lively a family as it was
possible to meet anywhere. Many a holiday afterwards we shared
together, and the kindness showered upon me I shall never be able to
forget, or, alas, return; for my dear friend "Mad G." has long ago
gone to his rest, and so have both his parents, whom I loved almost as
my own.
Another thing for which I have much to thank my parents is the
interest which they encouraged me to take in the collecting and study
of natural objects. We were taught that the only excuse that made the
taking of animal life honourable was for some useful purpose, like
food or study or self-preservation. Several cases of birds stuffed and
set up when we were fourteen and sixteen years of age still adorn the
old house. Every bit had to be done by ourselves, my brother making
the cases, and I the rock work and taxidermy. The hammering-up of
sandstone and granite; to cover the glue-soaked brown paper that we
moulded into rocks, satisfied my keenest instinct for making messes,
and only the patience of the old-time domestics would have "stood for
it." My brother specialized in birds' eggs, and I in butterflies and
moths. Later we added seaweeds, shells, and flowers. Some of our
collections have been dissipated; and though we have not a really
scientific acquaintance with either of these kingdoms, we acquired a
"hail-fellow-well-met" familiarity with all of them, which has
enlivened many a day in many parts of the world as we have journeyed
through life. Moreover, though purchased pictures have other values,
the old cases set on the walls of one's den bring back memories that
are the joy and solace of many idle moments later in life--each rarer
egg, each extra butterfly picturing some day or place of keen triumph,
otherwise long since forgotten. Here, for instance, is a convolvulus
hawk father found killed on a mountain in Switzerland; there an Apollo
I caught in the Pyrenees; here a "red burnet" with "five eyes"
captured as we raced through the bracken on Clifton Downs; and there
are "purple emperors" wired down to "meat" baits on the Surrey Downs.
Many a night at school have I stolen into the great forest, my
butterfly net under my coat, to try and add a new specimen to my
hoard. We were always supplied with good "key-books," so that we
should be able to identify our specimens, and also to search for
others more intelligently. One value of my own specialty was that for
the moths it demanded going out in the night, and the thrills of out
of doors in the beautiful summer evenings, when others were "fugging"
in the house or had gone to bed, used actually to make me dance
around on the grass. The dark lantern, the sugaring of the tree stems
with intoxicating potions, and the subsequent excitement of searching
for specimens, fascinated me utterly. Our breeding from the egg,
through the caterpillar stage, taught us many things without our
knowing that we were learning.
One of our holidays was memorable, because as soon as our parents left
we invited my friend and two sisters as well to come and stay with us.
They came, fully expecting that mother had asked them, but were good
enough sports to stay when they found it was only us two boys. They
greatly added to the enjoyment of the days, and if they had not been
such inveterate home letter-writers--a habit of which we were very
contemptuous--it would have saved us boys much good-humoured teasing
afterwards, for the matron would have been mum and no one the wiser.