Poor old
Benjy! The "rheumatiz" has
much to answer for all through
English country-sides, but
it never played a scurvier
trick than in laying thee
by the heels, when thou wast
yet in a green old age. The
enemy, which had long been
carrying on a sort of border
warfare, and trying his strength
against Benjy's on the battlefield
of his hands and legs, now,
mustering all his forces,
began laying siege to the
citadel, and overrunning
the whole country. Benjy
was seized in the back and
loins; and though he made
strong and brave fight, it
was soon clear enough that
all which could be beaten
of poor old Benjy would have
to give in before long.
It was as much as he could
do now, with the help of
his big stick and frequent
stops, to hobble down to
the canal with Master Tom,
and bait his hook for him,
and sit and watch his angling,
telling him quaint old country
stories; and when Tom had
no sport, and detecting a
rat some hundred yards or
so off along the bank, would
rush off with Toby the turnspit
terrier, his other faithful
companion, in bootless pursuit,
he might have tumbled in
and been drowned twenty times
over before Benjy could have
got near him.
Cheery and
unmindful of himself, as
Benjy was, this
loss of locomotive power
bothered him greatly. He
had got a new object in his
old age, and was just beginning
to think himself useful again
in the world. He feared much,
too, lest Master Tom should
fall back again into the
hands of Charity and the
women. So he tried everything
he could think of to get
set up. He even went an expedition
to the dwelling of one of
those queer mortals, who —say
what we will, and reason
how we will - do cure simple
people of diseases of one
kind or another without the
aid of physic, and so get
to themselves the reputation
of using charms, and inspire
for themselves and their
dwellings great respect,
not to say fear, amongst
a simple folk such as the
dwellers in the Vale of White
Horse. Where this power,
or whatever else it may be,
descends upon the shoulders
of a man whose ways are not
straight, he becomes a nuisance
to the neighbourhood - a
receiver of stolen goods,
giver of love-potions, and
deceiver of silly women -
the avowed enemy of law and
order, of justices of the
peace, head-boroughs, and
gamekeepers, - such a man,
in fact, as was recently
caught tripping, and deservedly
dealt with by the Leeds justices,
for seducing a girl who had
come to him to get back a
faithless lover, and has
been convicted of bigamy
since then. Sometimes, however,
they are of quite a different
stamp - men who pretend to
nothing, and are with difficulty
persuaded to exercise their
occult arts in the simplest
cases.
Of this
latter sort was old Farmer
Ives, as he was
called, the "wise man" to
whom Benjy resorted (taking
Tom with him as usual), in
the early spring of the year
next after the feast described
in the last chapter. Why
he was called "farmer" I
cannot say, unless it be
that he was the owner of
a cow, a pig or two, and
some poultry, which he maintained
on about an acre of land
inclosed from the middle
of a wild common, on which
probably his father had squatted
before lords of manors looked
as keenly after their rights
as they do now. Here he had
lived no one knew how long,
a solitary man. It was often
rumoured that he was to be
turned out and his cottage
pulled down, but somehow
it never came to pass; and
his pigs and cow went grazing
on the common, and his geese
hissed at the passing children
and at the heels of the horse
of my lord's steward, who
often rode by with a covetous
eye on the inclosure still
unmolested. His dwelling
was some miles from our village;
so Benjy, who was half ashamed
of his errand, and wholly
unable to walk there, had
to exercise much ingenuity
to get the means of transporting
himself and Tom thither without
exciting suspicion. However,
one fine May morning he managed
to borrow the old blind pony
of our friend the publican,
and Tom persuaded Madam Brown
to give him a holiday to
spend with old Benjy, and
to lend them the Squire's
light cart, stored with bread
and cold meat and a bottle
of ale. And so the two in
high glee started behind
old Dobbin, and jogged along
the deep-rutted plashy roads,
which had not been mended
after their winter's wear,
towards the dwelling of the
wizard. About noon they passed
the gate which opened on
to the large common, and
old Dobbin toiled slowly
up the hill, while Benjy
pointed out a little deep
dingle on the left, out of
which welled a tiny stream.
As they crept up the hill
the tops of a few birch-trees
came in sight, and blue smoke
curling up through their
delicate light boughs; and
then the little white thatched
home and inclosed ground
of Farmer Ives, lying cradled
in the dingle, with the gay
gorse common rising behind
and on both sides; while
in front, after traversing
a gentle slope, the eye might
travel for miles and miles
over the rich vale. They
now left the main road and
struck into a green track
over the common marked lightly
with wheel and horse-shoe,
which led down into the dingle
and stopped at the rough
gate of Farmer Ives. Here
they found the farmer, an
iron-gray old man, with a
bushy eyebrow and strong
aquiline nose, busied in
one of his vocations. He
was a horse and cow doctor,
and was tending a sick beast
which had been sent up to
be cured. Benjy hailed him
as an old friend, and he
returned the greeting cordially
enough, looking however hard
for a moment both at Benjy
and Tom, to see whether there
was more in their visit than
appeared at first sight.
It was a work of some difficulty
and danger for Benjy to reach
the ground, which, however,
he managed to do without
mishap; and then he devoted
himself to unharnessing Dobbin
and turning him out for a
graze ("a run" one
could not say of that virtuous
steed) on the common. This
done, he extricated the cold
provisions from the cart,
and they entered the farmer's
wicket; and he, shutting
up the knife with which he
was taking maggots out of
the cow's back and sides,
accompanied them towards
the cottage. A big old lurcher
got up slowly from the door-stone,
stretching first one hind
leg and then the other, and
taking Tom's caresses and
the presence of Toby, who
kept, however, at a respectful
distance, with equal indifference.
"Us be cum to pay 'ee
a visit. I've a been long
minded to do't for old sake's
sake, only I vinds I dwon't
get about now as I'd used
to't. I be so plaguy bad
wi' th' rheumatiz in my back." Benjy
paused, in hopes of drawing
the farmer at once on the
subject of his ailments without
further direct application.
"Ah, I see as you bean't
quite so lissom as you was," replied
the farmer, with a grim smile,
as he lifted the latch of
his door; "we bean't
so young as we was, nother
on us, wuss luck."
The farmer's cottage was
very like those of the better
class of peasantry in general.
A snug chimney corner with
two seats, and a small carpet
on the hearth, an old flint
gun and a pair of spurs over
the fireplace, a dresser
with shelves on which some
bright pewter plates and
crockeryware were arranged,
an old walnut table, a few
chairs and settles, some
framed samplers, and an old
print or two, and a bookcase
with some dozen volumes on
the walls, a rack with flitches
of bacon, and other stores
fastened to the ceiling,
and you have the best part
of the furniture. No sign
of occult art is to be seen,
unless the bundles of dried
herbs hanging to the rack
and in the ingle and the
row of labelled phials on
one of the shelves betoken
it.
Tom played about with some
kittens who occupied the
hearth, and with a goat who
walked demurely in at the
open door - while their host
and Benjy spread the table
for dinner - and was soon
engaged in conflict with
the cold meat, to which he
did much honour. The two
old men's talk was of old
comrades and their deeds,
mute inglorious Miltons of
the Vale, and of the doings
thirty years back, which
didn't interest him much,
except when they spoke of
the making of the canal;
and then indeed he began
to listen with all his ears,
and learned, to his no small
wonder, that his dear and
wonderful canal had not been
there always - was not, in
fact, so old as Benjy or
Farmer Ives, which caused
a strange commotion in his
small brain.
After dinner Benjy called
attention to a wart which
Tom had on the knuckles of
his hand, and which the family
doctor had been trying his
skill on without success,
and begged the farmer to
charm it away. Farmer Ives
looked at it, muttered something
or another over it, and cut
some notches in a short stick,
which he handed to Benjy,
giving him instructions for
cutting it down on certain
days, and cautioning Tom
not to meddle with the wart
for a fortnight. And then
they strolled out and sat
on a bench in the sun with
their pipes, and the pigs
came up and grunted sociably
and let Tom scratch them;
and the farmer, seeing how
he liked animals, stood up
and held his arms in the
air, and gave a call, which
brought a flock of pigeons
wheeling and dashing through
the birch-trees. They settled
down in clusters on the farmer's
arms and shoulders, making
love to him and scrambling
over one another's backs
to get to his face; and then
he threw them all off, and
they fluttered about close
by, and lighted on him again
and again when he held up
his arms. All the creatures
about the place were clean
and fearless, quite unlike
their relations elsewhere;
and Tom begged to be taught
how to make all the pigs
and cows and poultry in our
village tame, at which the
farmer only gave one of his
grim chuckles.
It wasn't
till they were just ready
to go, and old
Dobbin was harnessed, that
Benjy broached the subject
of his rheumatism again,
detailing his symptoms one
by one. Poor old boy! He
hoped the farmer could charm
it away as easily as he could
Tom's wart, and was ready
with equal faith to put another
notched stick into his other
pocket, for the cure of his
own ailments. The physician
shook his head, but nevertheless
produced a bottle, and handed
it to Benjy, with instructions
for use. "Not as 't'll
do 'ee much good - leastways
I be afeard not," shading
his eyes with his hand, and
looking up at them in the
cart. "There's only
one thing as I knows on as'll
cure old folks like you and
I o' th' rheumatiz."
"Wot be that then,
farmer?" inquired Benjy.
"Churchyard mould," said
the old iron-gray man, with
another chuckle. And so they
said their good-byes and
went their ways home. Tom's
wart was gone in a fortnight,
but not so Benjy's rheumatism,
which laid him by the heels
more and more. And though
Tom still spent many an hour
with him, as he sat on a
bench in the sunshine, or
by the chimney corner when
it was cold, he soon had
to seek elsewhere for his
regular companions.
Tom had
been accustomed often to
accompany his mother
in her visits to the cottages,
and had thereby made acquaintance
with many of the village
boys of his own age. There
was Job Rudkin, son of widow
Rudkin, the most bustling
woman in the parish. How
she could ever have had such
a stolid boy as Job for a
child must always remain
a mystery. The first time
Tom went to their cottage
with his mother, Job was
not indoors; but he entered
soon after, and stood with
both hands in his pockets,
staring at Tom. Widow Rudkin,
who would have had to cross
madam to get at young Hopeful
- a breach of good manners
of which she was wholly incapable
- began a series of pantomime
signs, which only puzzled
him; and at last, unable
to contain herself longer,
burst out with, "Job!
Job! where's thy cap?"
"What! bean't 'ee on
ma head, mother?" replied
Job, slowly extricating one
hand from a pocket, and feeling
for the article in question;
which he found on his head
sure enough, and left there,
to his mother's horror and
Tom's great delight.
Then there was poor Jacob
Dodson, the half-witted boy,
who ambled about cheerfully,
undertaking messages and
little helpful odds and ends
for every one, which, however,
poor Jacob managed always
hopelessly to imbrangle.
Everything came to pieces
in his hands, and nothing
would stop in his head. They
nicknamed him Jacob Doodle-calf.
But above
all there was Harry Winburn,
the quickest
and best boy in the parish.
He might be a year older
than Tom, but was very little
bigger, and he was the Crichton
of our village boys. He could
wrestle and climb and run
better than all the rest,
and learned all that the
schoolmaster could teach
him faster than that worthy
at all liked. He was a boy
to be proud of, with his
curly brown hair, keen gray
eye, straight active figure,
and little ears and hands
and feet, "as fine as
a lord's," as Charity
remarked to Tom one day,
talking, as usual, great
nonsense. Lords' hands and
ears and feet are just as
ugly as other folk's when
they are children, as any
one may convince himself
if he likes to look. Tight
boots and gloves, and doing
nothing with them, I allow
make a difference by the
time they are twenty.
Now that Benjy was laid
on the shelf, and his young
brothers were still under
petticoat government, Tom,
in search of companions,
began to cultivate the village
boys generally more and more.
Squire Brown, be it said,
was a true-blue Tory to the
backbone, and believed honestly
that the powers which be
were ordained of God, and
that loyalty and steadfast
obedience were men's first
duties. Whether it were in
consequence or in spite of
his political creed, I do
not mean to give an opinion,
though I have one; but certain
it is that he held therewith
divers social principles
not generally supposed to
be true blue in colour. Foremost
of these, and the one which
the Squire loved to propound
above all others, was the
belief that a man is to be
valued wholly and solely
for that which he is in himself,
for that which stands up
in the four fleshly walls
of him, apart from clothes,
rank, fortune, and all externals
whatsoever. Which belief
I take to be a wholesome
corrective of all political
opinions, and, if held sincerely,
to make all opinions equally
harmless, whether they be
blue, red, or green. As a
necessary corollary to this
belief, Squire Brown held
further that it didn't matter
a straw whether his son associated
with lords' sons or ploughmen's
sons, provided they were
brave and honest. He himself
had played football and gone
bird-nesting with the farmers
whom he met at vestry and
the labourers who tilled
their fields, and so had
his father and grandfather,
with their progenitors. So
he encouraged Tom in his
intimacy with the boys of
the village, and forwarded
it by all means in his power,
and gave them the run of
a close for a playground,
and provided bats and balls
and a football for their
sports.
Our village was blessed
amongst other things with
a well-endowed school. The
building stood by itself,
apart from the master's house,
on an angle of ground where
three roads met - an old
gray stone building with
a steep roof and mullioned
windows. On one of the opposite
angles stood Squire Brown's
stables and kennel, with
their backs to the road,
over which towered a great
elm- tree; on the third stood
the village carpenter and
wheelwright's large open
shop, and his house and the
schoolmaster's, with long
low eaves, under which the
swallows built by scores.
The moment Tom's lessons
were over, he would now get
him down to this corner by
the stables, and watch till
the boys came out of school.
He prevailed on the groom
to cut notches for him in
the bark of the elm so that
he could climb into the lower
branches; and there he would
sit watching the school door,
and speculating on the possibility
of turning the elm into a
dwelling-place for himself
and friends, after the manner
of the Swiss Family Robinson.
But the school hours were
long and Tom's patience short,
so that he soon began to
descend into the street,
and go and peep in at the
school door and the wheelwright's
shop, and look out for something
to while away the time. Now
the wheelwright was a choleric
man, and one fine afternoon,
returning from a short absence,
found Tom occupied with one
of his pet adzes, the edge
of which was fast vanishing
under our hero's care. A
speedy flight saved Tom from
all but one sound cuff on
the ears; but he resented
this unjustifiable interruption
of his first essays at carpentering,
and still more the further
proceedings of the wheelwright,
who cut a switch, and hung
it over the door of his workshop,
threatening to use it upon
Tom if he came within twenty
yards of his gate. So Tom,
to retaliate, commenced a
war upon the swallows who
dwelt under the wheelwright's
eaves, whom he harassed with
sticks and stones; and being
fleeter of foot than his
enemy, escaped all punishment,
and kept him in perpetual
anger. Moreover, his presence
about the school door began
to incense the master, as
the boys in that neighbourhood
neglected their lessons in
consequence; and more than
once he issued into the porch,
rod in hand, just as Tom
beat a hasty retreat. And
he and the wheelwright, laying
their heads together, resolved
to acquaint the Squire with
Tom's afternoon occupations;
but in order to do it with
effect, determined to take
him captive and lead him
away to judgment fresh from
his evil doings. This they
would have found some difficulty
in doing, had Tom continued
the war single-handed, or
rather single-footed, for
he would have taken to the
deepest part of Pebbly Brook
to escape them; but, like
other active powers, he was
ruined by his alliances.
Poor Jacob Doodle-calf could
not go to the school with
the other boys, and one fine
afternoon, about three o'clock
(the school broke up at four),
Tom found him ambling about
the street, and pressed him
into a visit to the school-porch.
Jacob, always ready to do
what he was asked, consented,
and the two stole down to
the school together. Tom
first reconnoitred the wheelwright's
shop; and seeing no signs
of activity, thought all
safe in that quarter, and
ordered at once an advance
of all his troops upon the
schoolporch. The door of
the school was ajar, and
the boys seated on the nearest
bench at once recognized
and opened a correspondence
with the invaders. Tom, waxing
bold, kept putting his head
into the school and making
faces at the master when
his back was turned. Poor
Jacob, not in the least comprehending
the situation, and in high
glee at finding himself so
near the school, which he
had never been allowed to
enter, suddenly, in a fit
of enthusiasm, pushed by
Tom, and ambling three steps
into the school, stood there,
looking round him and nodding
with a self-approving smile.
The master, who was stooping
over a boy's slate, with
his back to the door, became
aware of something unusual,
and turned quickly round.
Tom rushed at Jacob, and
began dragging him back by
his smock-frock, and the
master made at them, scattering
forms and boys in his career.
Even now they might have
escaped, but that in the
porch, barring retreat, appeared
the crafty wheelwright, who
had been watching all their
proceedings. So they were
seized, the school dismissed,
and Tom and Jacob led away
to Squire Brown as lawful
prize, the boys following
to the gate in groups, and
speculating on the result.
The Squire was very angry
at first, but the interview,
by Tom's pleading, ended
in a compromise. Tom was
not to go near the school
till three o'clock, and only
then if he had done his own
lessons well, in which case
he was to be the bearer of
a note to the master from
Squire Brown; and the master
agreed in such case to release
ten or twelve of the best
boys an hour before the time
of breaking up, to go off
and play in the close. The
wheelwright's adzes and swallows
were to be for ever respected;
and that hero and the master
withdrew to the servants'
hall to drink the Squire's
health, well satisfied with
their day's work.
The second act of Tom's
life may now be said to have
begun. The war of independence
had been over for some time:
none of the women now - not
even his mother's maid -
dared offer to help him in
dressing or washing. Between
ourselves, he had often at
first to run to Benjy in
an unfinished state of toilet.
Charity and the rest of them
seemed to take a delight
in putting impossible buttons
and ties in the middle of
his back; but he would have
gone without nether integuments
altogether, sooner than have
had recourse to female valeting.
He had a room to himself,
and his father gave him sixpence
a week pocket-money. All
this he had achieved by Benjy's
advice and assistance. But
now he had conquered another
step in life - the step which
all real boys so long to
make: he had got amongst
his equals in age and strength,
and could measure himself
with other boys; he lived
with those whose pursuits
and wishes and ways were
the same in kind as his own.
The little
governess who had lately
been installed
in the house found her work
grow wondrously easy, for
Tom slaved at his lessons,
in order to make sure of
his note to the schoolmaster.
So there were very few days
in the week in which Tom
and the village boys were
not playing in their close
by three o'clock. Prisoner's
base, rounders, high-cock-a-lorum,
cricket, football —he
was soon initiated into the
delights of them all; and
though most of the boys were
older than himself, he managed
to hold his own very well.
He was naturally active and
strong, and quick of eye
and hand, and had the advantage
of light shoes and well-fitting
dress, so that in a short
time he could run and jump
and climb with any of them.
They generally finished
their regular games half
an hour or so before tea-time,
and then began trials of
skill and strength in many
ways. Some of them would
catch the Shetland pony who
was turned out in the field,
and get two or three together
on his back, and the little
rogue, enjoying the fun,
would gallop off for fifty
yards, and then turn round,
or stop short and shoot them
on to the turf, and then
graze quietly on till he
felt another load; others
played at peg-top or marbles,
while a few of the bigger
ones stood up for a bout
at wrestling. Tom at first
only looked on at this pastime,
but it had peculiar attractions
for him, and he could not
long keep out of it. Elbow
and collar wrestling, as
practised in the western
counties, was, next to back-swording,
the way to fame for the youth
of the Vale; and all the
boys knew the rules of it,
and were more or less expert.
But Job Rudkin and Harry
Winburn were the stars -
the former stiff and sturdy,
with legs like small towers;
the latter pliant as indiarubber
and quick as lightning. Day
after day they stood foot
to foot, and offered first
one hand and then the other,
and grappled and closed,
and swayed and strained,
till a well-aimed crook of
the heel or thrust of the
loin took effect, and a fair
back-fall ended the matter.
And Tom watched with all
his eyes, and first challenged
one of the less scientific,
and threw him; and so one
by one wrestled his way up
to the leaders.
Then indeed for months he
had a poor time of it; it
was not long indeed before
he could manage to keep his
legs against Job, for that
hero was slow of offence,
and gained his victories
chiefly by allowing others
to throw themselves against
his immovable legs and loins.
But Harry Winburn was undeniably
his master; from the first
clutch of hands when they
stood up, down to the last
trip which sent him on to
his back on the turf, he
felt that Harry knew more
and could do more than he.
Luckily Harry's bright unconsciousness
and Tom's natural good temper
kept them from quarrelling;
and so Tom worked on and
on, and trod more and more
nearly on Harry's heels,
and at last mastered all
the dodges and falls except
one. This one was Harry's
own particular invention
and pet; he scarcely ever
used it except when hard
pressed, but then out it
came, and as sure as it did,
over went poor Tom. He thought
about that fall at his meals,
in his walks, when he lay
awake in bed, in his dreams,
but all to no purpose, until
Harry one day in his open
way suggested to him how
he thought it should be met;
and in a week from that time
the boys were equal, save
only the slight difference
of strength in Harry's favour,
which some extra ten months
of age gave. Tom had often
afterwards reason to be thankful
for that early drilling,
and above all, for having
mastered Harry Winburn's
fall.
Besides
their home games, on Saturdays
the boys would
wander all over the neighbourhood;
sometimes to the downs, or
up to the camp, where they
cut their initials out in
the springy turf, and watched
the hawks soaring, and the "peert" bird,
as Harry Winburn called the
gray plover, gorgeous in
his wedding feathers; and
so home, racing down the
Manger with many a roll among
the thistles, or through
Uffington Wood to watch the
fox cubs playing in the green
rides; sometimes to Rosy
Brook, to cut long whispering
reeds which grew there, to
make pan-pipes of; sometimes
to Moor Mills, where was
a piece of old forest land,
with short browsed turf and
tufted brambly thickets stretching
under the oaks, amongst which
rumour declared that a raven,
last of his race, still lingered;
or to the sand-hills, in
vain quest of rabbits; and
bird-nesting in the season,
anywhere and everywhere.
The few neighbours of the
Squire's own rank every now
and then would shrug their
shoulders as they drove or
rode by a party of boys with
Tom in the middle, carrying
along bulrushes or whispering
reeds, or great bundles of
cowslip and meadow-sweet,
or young starlings or magpies,
or other spoil of wood, brook,
or meadow; and Lawyer Red-tape
might mutter to Squire Straight-back
at the Board that no good
would come of the young Browns,
if they were let run wild
with all the dirty village
boys, whom the best farmers'
sons even would not play
with. And the squire might
reply with a shake of his
head that his sons only mixed
with their equals, and never
went into the village without
the governess or a footman.
But, luckily, Squire Brown
was full as stiffbacked as
his neighbours, and so went
on his own way; and Tom and
his younger brothers, as
they grew up, went on playing
with the village boys, without
the idea of equality or inequality
(except in wrestling, running,
and climbing) ever entering
their heads; as it doesn't
till it's put there by Jack
Nastys or fine ladies' maids.
I don't mean to say it would
be the case in all villages,
but it certainly was so in
this one: the village boys
were full as manly and honest,
and certainly purer, than
those in a higher rank; and
Tam got more harm from his
equals in his first fortnight
at a private school, where
he went when he was nine
years old, than he had from
his village friends from
the day he left Charity's
apron-strings.
Great was
the grief amongst the village
school-boys when
Tom drove off with the Squire,
one August morning, to meet
the coach on his way to school.
Each of them had given him
some little present of the
best that he had, and his
small private box was full
of peg-taps, white marbles
(called "alley-taws" in
the Vale), screws, birds'
eggs, whip-cord, jews-harps,
and other miscellaneous boys'
wealth. Poor Jacob Doodle-calf,
in floods of tears, had pressed
upon him with spluttering
earnestness his lame pet
hedgehog (he had always some
poor broken-down beast or
bird by him); but this Tom
had been obliged to refuse,
by the Squire's order. He
had given them all a great
tea under the big elm in
their playground, for which
Madam Brown had supplied
the biggest cake ever seen
in our village; and Tom was
really as sorry to leave
them as they to lose him,
but his sorrow was not unmixed
with the pride and excitement
of making a new step in life.
And this feeling carried
him through his first parting
with his mother better than
could have been expected.
Their love was as fair and
whole as human love can be
- perfect self-sacrifice
on the one side meeting a
young and true heart on the
other. It is not within the
scope of my book, however,
to speak of family relations,
or I should have much to
say on the subject of English
mothers - ay, and of English
fathers, and sisters, and
brothers too. Neither have
I room to speak of our private
schools. What I have to say
is about public schools -
those much-abused and much-belauded
institutions peculiar to
England. So we must hurry
through Master Tom's year
at a private school as fast
as we can.
It was a fair average specimen,
kept by a gentleman, with
another gentleman as second
master; but it was little
enough of the real work they
did - merely coming into
school when lessons were
prepared and all ready to
be heard. The whole discipline
of the school out of lesson
hours was in the hands of
the two ushers, one of whom
was always with the boys
in their playground, in the
school, at meals - in fact,
at all times and every where,
till they were fairly in
bed at night.
Now the theory of private
schools is (or was) constant
supervision out of school
- therein differing fundamentally
from that of public schools.
It may be right or wrong;
but if right, this supervision
surely ought to be the especial
work of the head-master,
the responsible person. The
object of all schools is
not to ram Latin and Greek
into boys, but to make them
good English boys, good future
citizens; and by far the
most important part of that
work must be done, or not
done, out of school hours.
To leave it, therefore, in
the hands of inferior men,
is just giving up the highest
and hardest part of the work
of education. Were I a private
school-master, I should say,
Let who will hear the boys
their lessons, but let me
live with them when they
are at play and rest.
The two ushers at Tom's
first school were not gentlemen,
and very poorly educated,
and were only driving their
poor trade of usher to get
such living as they could
out of it. They were not
bad men, but had little heart
for their work, and of course
were bent on making it as
easy as possible. One of
the methods by which they
endeavoured to accomplish
this was by encouraging tale-bearing,
which had become a frightfully
common vice in the school
in consequence, and had sapped
all the foundations of school
morality. Another was, by
favouring grossly the biggest
boys, who alone could have
given them much trouble;
whereby those young gentlemen
became most abominable tyrants,
oppressing the little boys
in all the small mean ways
which prevail in private
schools.
Poor little
Tom was made dreadfully
unhappy in his
first week by a catastrophe
which happened to his first
letter home. With huge labour
he had, on the very evening
of his arrival, managed to
fill two sides of a sheet
of letter-paper with assurances
of his love for dear mamma,
his happiness at school,
and his resolves to do all
she would wish. This missive,
with the help of the boy
who sat at the desk next
him, also a new arrival,
he managed to fold successfully;
but this done, they were
sadly put to it for means
of sealing. Envelopes were
then unknown; they had no
wax, and dared not disturb
the stillness of the evening
school-room by getting up
and going to ask the usher
for some. At length Tom's
friend, being of an ingenious
turn of mind, suggested sealing
with ink; and the letter
was accordingly stuck down
with a blob of ink, and duly
handed by Tom, on his way
to bed, to the housekeeper
to be posted. It was not
till four days afterwards
that the good dame sent for
him, and produced the precious
letter and some wax, saying, "O
Master Brown, I forgot to
tell you before, but your
letter isn't sealed." Poor
Tom took the wax in silence
and sealed his letter, with
a huge lump rising in his
throat during the process,
and then ran away to a quiet
corner of the playground,
and burst into an agony of
tears. The idea of his mother
waiting day after day for
the letter he had promised
her at once, and perhaps
thinking him forgetful of
her, when he had done all
in his power to make good
his promise, was as bitter
a grief as any which he had
to undergo for many a long
year. His wrath, then, was
proportionately violent when
he was aware of two boys,
who stopped close by him,
and one of whom, a fat gaby
of a fellow, pointed at him
and called him "Young
mammy-sick!" Whereupon
Tom arose, and giving vent
thus to his grief and shame
and rage, smote his derider
on the nose; and made it
bleed; which sent that young
worthy howling to the usher,
who reported Tom for violent
and unprovoked assault and
battery. Hitting in the face
was a felony punishable with
flogging, other hitting only
a misdemeanour - a distinction
not altogether clear in principle.
Tom, however, escaped the
penalty by pleading primum
tempus; and having written
a second letter to his mother,
inclosing some forget-me-nots,
which he picked on their
first half-holiday walk,
felt quite happy again, and
began to enjoy vastly a good
deal of his new life.
These half-holiday walks
were the great events of
the week. The whole fifty
boys started after dinner
with one of the ushers for
Hazeldown, which was distant
some mile or so from the
school. Hazeldown measured
some three miles round, and
in the neighbourhood were
several woods full of all
manner of birds and butterflies.
The usher walked slowly round
the down with such boys as
liked to accompany him; the
rest scattered in all directions,
being only bound to appear
again when the usher had
completed his round, and
accompany him home. They
were forbidden, however,
to go anywhere except on
the down and into the woods;
the village had been especially
prohibited, where huge bull's-eyes
and unctuous toffy might
be procured in exchange for
coin of the realm.
Various
were the amusements to
which the boys then betook
themselves. At the entrance
of the down there was a steep
hillock, like the barrows
of Tom's own downs. This
mound was the weekly scene
of terrific combats, at a
game called by the queer
name of "mud-patties." The
boys who played divided into
sides under different leaders,
and one side occupied the
mound. Then, all parties
having provided themselves
with many sods of turf, cut
with their bread-and-cheese
knives, the side which remained
at the bottom proceeded to
assault the mound, advancing
up on all sides under cover
of a heavy fire of turfs,
and then struggling for victory
with the occupants, which
was theirs as soon as they
could, even for a moment,
clear the summit, when they
in turn became the besieged.
It was a good, rough, dirty
game, and of great use in
counteracting the sneaking
tendencies of the school.
Then others of the boys spread
over the downs, looking for
the holes of humble-bees
and mice, which they dug
up without mercy, often (I
regret to say) killing and
skinning the unlucky mice,
and (I do not regret to say)
getting well stung by the
bumble-bees. Others went
after butterflies and birds'
eggs in their seasons; and
Tom found on Hazeldown, for
the first time, the beautiful
little blue butterfly with
golden spots on his wings,
which he had never seen on
his own downs, and dug out
his first sand-martin's nest.
This latter achievement resulted
in a flogging, for the sand-martins
built in a high bank close
to the village, consequently
out of bounds; but one of
the bolder spirits of the
school, who never could be
happy unless he was doing
something to which risk was
attached, easily persuaded
Tom to break bounds and visit
the martins' bank. From whence
it being only a step to the
toffy shop, what could be
more simple than to go on
there and fill their pockets;
or what more certain than
that on their return, a distribution
of treasure having been made,
the usher should shortly
detect the forbidden smell
of bull's-eyes, and, a search
ensuing, discover the state
of the breeches-pockets of
Tom and his ally?
This ally of Tom's was indeed
a desperate hero in the sight
of the boys, and feared as
one who dealt in magic, or
something approaching thereto.
Which reputation came to
him in this wise. The boys
went to bed at eight, and,
of course, consequently lay
awake in the dark for an
hour or two, telling ghost-stories
by turns. One night when
it came to his turn, and
he had dried up their souls
by his story, he suddenly
declared that he would make
a fiery hand appear on the
door; and to the astonishment
and terror of the boys in
his room, a hand, or something
like it, in pale light, did
then and there appear. The
fame of this exploit having
spread to the other rooms,
and being discredited there,
the young necromancer declared
that the same wonder would
appear in all the rooms in
turn, which it accordingly
did; and the whole circumstances
having been privately reported
to one of the ushers as usual,
that functionary, after listening
about at the doors of the
rooms, by a sudden descent
caught the performer in his
night-shirt, with a box of
phosphorus in his guilty
hand. Lucifer-matches and
all the present facilities
for getting acquainted with
fire were then unknown -
the very name of phosphorus
had something diabolic in
it to the boy-mind; so Tom's
ally, at the cost of a sound
flogging, earned what many
older folk covet much - the
very decided fear of most
of his companions.
He was a remarkable boy,
and by no means a bad one.
Tom stuck to him till he
left, and got into many scrapes
by so doing. But he was the
great opponent of the tale-bearing
habits of the school, and
the open enemy of the ushers;
and so worthy of all support.
Tom imbibed a fair amount
of Latin and Greek at the
school, but somehow, on the
whole, it didn't suit him,
or he it, and in the holidays
he was constantly working
the Squire to send him at
once to a public school.
Great was his joy then, when
in the middle of his third
half-year, in October 183-,
a fever broke out in the
village, and the master having
himself slightly sickened
of it, the whole of the boys
were sent off at a day's
notice to their respective
homes.
The Squire
was not quite so pleased
as Master Tom
to see that young gentleman's
brown, merry face appear
at home, some two months
before the proper time, for
the Christmas holidays; and
so, after putting on his
thinking cap, he retired
to his study and wrote several
letters, the result of which
was that, one morning at
the breakfast-table, about
a fortnight after Tom's return,
he addressed his wife with
- "My dear, I have arranged
that Tom shall go to Rugby
at once, for the last six
weeks of this half-year,
instead of wasting them in
riding and loitering about
home. It is very kind of
the doctor to allow it. Will
you see that his things are
all ready by Friday, when
I shall take him up to town,
and send him down the next
day by himself."
Mrs. Brown was prepared
for the announcement, and
merely suggested a doubt
whether Tom were yet old
enough to travel by himself.
However, finding both father
and son against her on this
point, she gave in, like
a wise woman, and proceeded
to prepare Tom's kit for
his launch into a public
school.
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