Eric, or Little by Little Part 22

A year had pa.s.sed since the events narrated in the last chapter, and had brought with it many changes.

To Eric the changes were not for good.

The memories of Russell were getting dim; the resolutions made during his friend's illness had vanished; the bad habits laid aside after his death had been resumed. All this took place very gradually; there were many inward struggles, much occasional remorse, but the struggles by degrees grew weaker, and remorse lost its sting, and Eric Williams soon learned again to follow the mult.i.tude to do evil.

He was now sixteen years old, and high in the fifth-form, and, besides this, he was captain of the school eleven. In work he had fallen off, and no one now expected the fulfilment of that promise of genius which he had given them when he first came. But in all school sports he had improved, and was the acknowledged leader and champion in matters requiring boldness and courage; his popularity made him giddy; favour of man led to forgetfulness of G.o.d; and even a glance at his countenance showed a self-sufficiency and arrogance which ill became the refinement of his features, and ill replaced the ingenuous modesty of former days.

And Vernon Williams was no longer a new boy. The worst had happened to him, which Eric in his better moments could have feared. He had fallen into thoroughly bad hands, and Eric, who should have been his natural guardian and guide, began to treat him with indifference, and scarcely ever had any affectionate intercourse with him. It is by no means unfrequent that brothers at school see but little of each other, and follow their several pursuits, and choose their various companions, with small regard to the relationship between them.

Yet Eric could not overlook or be blind to the fact, that Vernon's chief friend or leader was the most undesirable whom he could have chosen. It was a new boy named Brigson. This boy had been expelled from one of the most ill-managed schools in Ireland, although, of course, the fact had been treacherously concealed from the authorities at Roslyn; and now he was let loose, without warning or caution, among the Roslyn boys.

Better for them if their gates had been open to the pestilence! the pestilence could but have killed the body, but this boy--this fore-front fighter in the devil's battle--did much to ruin many an immortal soul.

He systematically, from the very first, called evil good, and good evil, put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter. He openly threw aside the admission of any one moral obligation. Never did some of the Roslyn boys, to their dying day, forget the deep, intolerable, unfathomable flood of moral turpitude and iniquity which he bore with him; a flood, which seemed so irresistible, that the influence of such boys as Montagu and Owen to stay its onrush seemed as futile as the weight of a feather to bar the fury of a mountain stream. Eric might have done much, Duncan might have done much, to aid the better cause had they tried; but they resisted at first but faintly, and then not at all, until they too were swept away in the broadening tide of degeneracy and sin.

Big, burly, and strong, though much younger than he looked (if he stated his age correctly, which I doubt), Brigson, being low in the school, naturally became the bully and the leader of all the lower forms--the bully if they opposed him, the leader if they accepted his guidance. A little army of small boys attended him, and were ever ready for the schemes of mischief to which he deliberately trained them, until they grew almost as turbulent, as disobedient, and as wicked as himself. He taught both by precept and example, that towards masters neither honour was to be recognised, nor respect to be considered due. To cheat them, to lie to them, to annoy them in every possible way--to misrepresent their motives, mimic their defects, and calumniate their actions--was the conduct which he inaugurated towards them; and for the time that he continued at Roslyn the whole lower-school was a Pandemonium of evil pa.s.sions and despicable habits.

Every one of the little boys became more or less amenable to his influence, and among them Vernon Williams. Had Eric done his duty, this would never have been; but he was half ashamed to be often with his brother, and disliked to find him so often creeping to his side. He flattered himself that in this feeling he was only anxious that Vernon should grow spirited and independent; but, had he examined himself, he would have found selfishness at the bottom of it. Once or twice his manner showed harshness to Vernon, and his young brother both observed and resented it. Montagu and others noticed him for Eric's sake; but, being in the same form with Brigson, Vernon was thrown much with him, and feeling, as he did, deserted and lonely, he was easily caught by the ascendency of his physical strength and reckless daring. Before three months were over, he became, to Eric's intolerable disgust, a ringleader in the band of troublesome scapegraces, whose increasing numbers were the despair of all who had the interest of the school at heart.

Unfortunately, Owen was now head of the school, and from his const.i.tutional want of geniality, he was so little of a boy that he had no sympathy with the others, and little authority over them. He simply kept aloof, holding his own way, and retiring into his own tastes and pursuits, and the society of one or two congenial spirits in the school, so as in no way to come in contact with the spreading corruption.

Montagu, now Owen's chief friend, was also in the sixth, and fearlessly expressed at once his contempt for Brigson, and his dread of the evil he was effecting. Had the monitorial system existed, that contagion could have been effectually checked; but, as it was, brute force had unlimited authority. Ill indeed are those informed who raise a cry, and join in the ignorant abuse of that n.o.ble safeguard of English schools. Any who have had personal and intimate experience of how schools work _with_ it and _without_ it, know what a Palladium it is of happiness and morality; how it prevents bullying, upholds manliness, is the bulwark of discipline, and makes boys more earnest and thoughtful, often at the most critical periods of their lives, by enlisting all their sympathies and interests on the side of the honourable and the just.

Brigson knew at a glance whom he had most to fear; Ball, Attlay, Llewellyn, Graham, all tolerated or even approved of him. Owen did not come in his way, so he left him unmolested. To Eric and Duncan he was scrupulously civil, and by flattery and deference managed to keep apparently on excellent terms with them. Eric pretended to be ignorant of the harm he was bringing about, and in answer to the indignant and measureless invectives of Montagu and others, professed to see in Brigson a very good fellow.

Brigson hated Montagu, because he read on his features the unvarying glance of undisguised contempt. He dared not come across him openly, since Montagu was so high in the school; and besides, though much the bigger of the two, Brigson was decidedly afraid of him. But he chose sly methods of perpetual annoyance. He nicknamed him "Rosebud," he talked at him whenever he had an opportunity; he poisoned the minds of the gang of youngsters against him; he spread malicious reports about him; he diminished his popularity, and embittered his feelings, by every secret and underhand means which lay in his power.

One method of torment was most successful. As a study-boy, Montagu did not come to bed till an hour later than the lower part of the school, and Brigson taught some of the little fellows to play all kinds of tricks to his bed and room, so that when he came down, it was with the certainty of finding everything in confusion. Sometimes his bed would be turned right on end, and he would have to put it to the ground and remake it before he could lie down. Sometimes all the furniture in the room would be thrown about in different corners, with no trace of the offender. Sometimes he would find all sorts of things put inside the bed itself. The intolerable part of the vexation was, to be certain that this was done at Brigson's instigation, or by his own hand, without having the means of convicting or preventing him. Poor Monty grew very sad at heart, and this perpetual dastardly annoyance weighed the more heavily on his spirits, from its being of a kind which peculiarly grated on his refined taste, and his natural sense of what was gentlemanly and fair.

One night, coming down, as usual, in melancholy dread, he saw a light under the door of his room. It struck him that he was earlier than usual, and he walked up quickly and noiselessly. There they were at it.

The instant he entered, there was a rush through the opposite door, and he felt convinced that one of the retreating figures was Brigson's. In a second he had sprung across the room, so as to prevent the rest from running, and with heaving breast and flashing eyes, glared at the intruders as they stood there, sheepish and afraid.

"What!" he said angrily; "so you are the fellows who have had the cowardice to annoy me thus, night after night, for weeks; you miserable, degraded young animals!" and he looked at the four or five who had not made their escape. "What and _you_ among them," he said with a start, as he caught the eye of Vernon Williams. "Oh, this is too bad." His tone showed the deepest sorrow and vexation, and for a moment he said no more. Instantly Vernon was by him.

"_Do_ forgive me, _do_ forgive me, Montagu," he said; "I really didn't know it teased you so much."

But Montagu shook him off, and at once recovered himself. "Wretched boys! let me see what you have been doing to-night. Oh, as usual," he said, glancing at the complete disorder which they had been effecting.

"Ha! but what is this? So Brigson has introduced another vile secret among you. Well, he shall rue it!" and he pointed to some small, almost invisible flakes of a whitish substance, scattered here and there over his pillow. It was a kind of powder which, if once it touched the skin, caused the most violent and painful irritation.

"By heavens, this is _too_ bad!" he exclaimed, stamping his foot with anger. "What have I ever done to you young blackguards, that you should treat me thus? Have I ever been a bully? Have I ever harmed one of you? And _you_, too, Vernon Williams!"

The little boy trembled and looked ashamed under his glance of sorrow and scorn.

"Well, I _know_ who has put you up to this; but you shall not escape so.

I shall thrash you every one."

Very quietly he suited the action to the word, sparing none. They took it patiently enough, conscious of richly deserving it; and when it was over, Vernon said, "Forgive me, Montagu. I am very sorry, and will never do so again." Montagu, without deigning a reply, motioned them to go, and then sat down, full of grief, on his bed. But the outrage was not over for that night, and no sooner had he put out the light than he became painfully aware that several boys were stealing into the room, and the next moment he felt a bolster fall on his head. He was out of bed in an instant, and with a few fierce and indignant blows, had scattered the crowd of his cowardly a.s.sailants, and driven them away. A number of fellows had set on him in the dark--on _him_ of all others.

Oh, what a change must have happened in the school that this should be possible! He felt that the contagion of Brigson's baseness had spread far indeed.

He fought like a lion, and several of the conspirators had reason to repent their miscalculation in a.s.saulting so spirited an antagonist.

But this did not content him; his blood was up, and he determined to attack the evil at its source. He strode through his discomfited enemies straight into Brigson's room, struck a match, and said, "Brigson, get out of bed this instant."

"Hullo!" grunted Brigson, pretending to be only just awake.

"None of that, you blackguard! Will you take a thrashing?"

"No!" roared Brigson, "I should think not."

"Well, then, take _that_!" he shouted, striking him in the face.

The fight that followed was very short. In a single round Montagu had utterly thrashed, and stricken to the earth, and forced to beg for mercy, his c.u.mbrous and brutal opponent. He seemed to tower above him with a magnificent superiority, and there was a self-controlled pa.s.sion about him which gave tremendous energy to every blow. Brigson was utterly dashed, confounded, and cowed, and took without a word the parting kick of contempt which Montagu bestowed on him.

"There," he said to the fellows, who had thronged in from all the dormitories at the first hint of a fight, "I, a sixth-form fellow, have condescended to thrash that base coward there, whom all you miserable lower boys have been making an idol and hero of, and from whom you have been so readily learning every sort of blackguardly and debasing trick.

But let me tell you and your hero, that if any of you dare to annoy or lift a finger at me again, you shall do it at your peril. I despise you all; there is hardly one gentlemanly or honourable fellow left among you since that fellow Brigson has come here; yes, I despise you, and you know that you deserve it." And every one of them _did_ shrink before his just and fiery rebuke.

The scene was not over when the door suddenly opened, and Mr Rose appeared. He stood amazed to see Montagu there in his night-shirt, the boys all round, and Brigson standing over a basin, washing his nose, which was bleeding profusely.

Montagu instantly stepped up to him. "You can trust me, sir; may I ask you kindly to say nothing of this? I have been thrashing some one that deserved it, and teaching these fellows a lesson."

Mr Rose saw and allowed for his excited manner. "I can trust you," he said, "Montagu, and shall take no further notice of this irregularity.

And now get instantly to your beds."

But Montagu, slipping on his clothes, went straight up to the studies, and called the upper boys together. He briefly told them what had occurred, and they rejoiced greatly, binding themselves for the future to check, if they could, by all fair means, Brigson's pernicious influence and abominable example.

But it was too late now; the mischief was done.

"O Eric," said Montagu, "why did you not make a stand against all this before? Your own brother was one of them."

"Little wretch. I'll kick him well for it," said Eric.

"No, no!" said Montagu, "that'll do no good. Try rather to look after him a little more."

"I hope _you_ will forgive him, and try and rescue him."

"I will do what I can," said Montagu coldly.

Eric sighed, and they parted.

Montagu had hoped that after this, Eric would at least break off all open connection with Brigson; and, indeed, Eric had meant to do so. But that personage kept carefully out of his way until the first burst of indignation against him had subsided, and after a time began to address Eric as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile he had completely regained his ascendency over the lower part of the school, which was not difficult, because they were wincing under Montagu's contempt, and mingled no little dislike with it; a dislike which all are too apt to feel towards those whose very presence and moral superiority are a tacit rebuke of their own failings. But while Montagu was hated, Eric was at the zenith of popular favour, a favour which Brigson ostentatiously encouraged. He was openly flattered and caressed, and if ever he got a large score at cricket, it was chalked triumphantly over the walls. All this he was weak enough to enjoy immensely, and it was one of the reasons why he did not wish to risk his popularity by breaking with Brigson. So, after a little constraint and coldness, he began to stand in much the same relation to him as before.

The best disposed of the upper boys disliked all this very much, and the sixth and fifth forms began to be split up into two main parties--the one headed by Eric, and, to a much less degree, by Duncan, who devoted themselves to the games and diversions of the school, and troubled themselves comparatively little about anything else; the other headed by Montagu, who took the lead in intellectual pursuits, and endeavoured, by every means in their power, to counteract the pernicious effects of the spreading immorality.

And so at Roslyn, owing mainly to the wickedness of one depraved boy, and the weak fear of man which actuated others, all was disunion, misery, and deterioration. The community which had once been peaceful, happy, and united, was filled with violent jealousy and heart-burnings; every boy's hand seemed to be against his neighbour; lying, bad language, dishonesty, grew fearfully rife, and the few who, like Owen and Montagu, remained uncontaminated by the general mischief, walked alone and despondent amid their uncongenial and degraded school-fellows.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER TWO.

WILDNEY.