Ernest Bracebridge Part 17

Naturally, the late attempt to introduce f.a.gging was discussed, and the part Bracebridge had taken in suppressing it was openly spoken of.

Thus, not only did all the boys in the school learn all about it, but it came to the ears of the masters, and, finally, to those of the Doctor himself. Monsieur Malin had heard of it before, but he had judged it best to let things take their course. The Doctor, having gathered all the information he thought necessary, collected several witnesses, among whom were b.u.t.tar, Bouldon, and Ellis, and summoned Blackall into his presence.

Blackall appeared, led in by two of the masters. He heard all that had to be said against him, and a full account of his barbarous treatment of Bouldon and Gregson, and the flogging which followed.

"I do not excuse b.u.t.tar, nor do I poor Bracebridge, for their conduct on that occasion. It was their duty to come and complain to me, and not to take the law into their own hands; but I am fully willing to believe that they acted under mistaken notions. However, I do not wish at present to say anything more against them; but there stands one whose whole conduct I so severely condemn, that I can allow him no longer to be an inmate of this school. To-morrow morning I shall publicly expel him. Retire till then to your respective rooms."

Although on ordinary occasions the Doctor had a great flow of language, he was very brief when any serious matter was under discussion, as if he was afraid to trust his feelings in words. No one in the school had an opportunity of again speaking to Blackall. He was supposed to have pa.s.sed the night in the solitary room, as it was called. The next morning, after breakfast, he was brought into the school-room between two of the masters, and there in due form publicly expelled the school.

"Sir," said the Doctor, "from the numerous charges brought against you, and which you do not attempt to disprove, you will, if you do not alter your conduct, be a disgrace to any community in which you may be found.

You have been constantly guilty of drunkenness and tyranny, blasphemy and swearing, idleness, and utter negligence of all religious and moral principle. I deeply regret that I was not sooner informed of your conduct; and I humbly acknowledge that I am much to blame in not having more minutely inquired into the character of every boy under my charge.

I trust that you are an exception to the general rule, and that there are no others like you. Lead the unhappy lad away."

Soon after this a post-chaise came to the door; Blackall with one of the masters was seen to get into it, and from that day forward no one ever heard anything positively about him. His conduct was undoubtedly worse than that of any of his companions. The way he had been punished utterly put a stop to anything like f.a.gging, and even brought bullying into very great discredit.

I have not mentioned Ernest Bracebridge since he had been wounded in so cowardly and treacherous a way by Blackall. The reports which flew about the school proved to have been somewhat exaggerated. The surgeon very naturally ordered that he should be kept quiet, but he had not said that there was any danger. He speedily stopped the bleeding, though, at the same time, he thought it safest to sit up with him, to watch that the wound did not break out afresh and allow him to bleed to death. In a few days even the slightest danger which might have existed was over; and in the course of a week he was able once more to resume his place in school. The Doctor had a good deal of conversation with him with respect to his conduct towards Blackall; and though he acknowledged that there were many extenuating circ.u.mstances, still, he pointed out, that he, as master of the school, would not allow the law to be taken out of his hands and exercised by another, however great the provocation.

"The same reasoning, remember, Bracebridge, holds good in society," he observed. "Private individuals must never take upon themselves the execution of the laws while a duly elected authority exists. Happily, in England, a man need only bring his complaint before a magistrate, and he is nearly certain to obtain ample justice. Remember that, my dear boy, whenever you are tempted to take the law into your own hands. If you yield to pa.s.sion, or to your feelings, you will be acting against the laws both of G.o.d and man; and do not suppose that it is a light thing to do that."

Ernest thanked the Doctor for his advice, and promised to remember it.

Only a couple of weeks remained now before the holidays were to begin-- those jolly Christmas holidays which, to boys living in the country, generally afford so much amus.e.m.e.nt.

The conversation Ernest had had with the Doctor made him feel more inclined to confide in him than he had ever done, and he resolved to open his heart to him about Ellis, who, in spite of his excellent conduct, and his quiet amiable manners, was as much as ever mistrusted by the boys in general. Barber, especially, turned up his nose at him, and never failed, when talking with his own particular chums, to throw out hints that, when Blackall was expelled, it was a pity the Doctor did not clear the school of Ellis, and other canting hypocrites like him.

More than once these ungenerous remarks had been repeated to Ernest. He talked the matter over with b.u.t.tar, who agreed that they ought not to be allowed to go on unnoticed.

"If Ellis has done anything really disgraceful, he should explain his conduct to us, who have so long supported him through thick and thin,"

observed b.u.t.tar. "For my part, I believe that he ever was what he now is, a highly honourable good fellow; and if so, he ought to be defended, and his character placed in a proper light before the whole school."

"I have been long thinking the same," said Ernest. "I would do anything to serve him; and the life he is now leading is enough to ruin him in health and mind. He looks thin and careworn--like an old man already."

That very evening Ernest went to the Doctor, and very briefly told him all about Ellis; how fast he was improving, and how happy he had become, till Barber came to the school and spread reports against his fair fame.

The Doctor asked Ernest what the reports were. Ernest told him.

"Poor fellow! how very unfortunate," he remarked. "When he came here, his father sent me a letter from his former master, saying that he had been accused of stealing some money from another boy; but that, though the evidence against him was very strong, and apparently conclusive, he fully believed him guiltless of the offence. His father, who came to me on purpose, a.s.sured me that his son was altogether incapable of committing the crime of which he was accused; at the same time, that he thought it right to mention the circ.u.mstance to me, to account for his low-spirited and retiring manner. I appreciated the father's motive, and accepted the charge of his son, not supposing that any boy from the lad's former school would come here to accuse him. I have watched him narrowly, and I feel sure, from what I have seen of him, that he is, at all events, now a most unlikely person to commit the crime of which he is accused."

"I am very glad indeed, sir, to hear you say this," replied Ernest. "I would myself stake much on Ellis's honour; but how are the other boys to be convinced of this, when one who professes to be a witness is among them, and constantly repeats the tale?"

"I must think about it," observed the Doctor. "I may show my disbelief of the truth of the accusations brought against him by honouring him on every fitting opportunity; but unless he can disprove the tales uttered against him, I fear the less generous boys will continue to believe him guilty. However, I have said I will consider the subject. And now, Bracebridge, believe me, I thank you for having introduced the matter to my notice."

After this conversation, Ernest became much happier about Ellis. For the Doctor, also, a much warmer regard and respect arose in his heart than he had ever before felt. He had from the first looked upon him as a kind, sensible, and just man; but he did not suppose that there was any sympathy between him and his pupils. He knew that they came to school to be taught, and that it was his duty to teach them; but he was not aware of the deep interest which he took in their eternal as well as in their temporal welfare; how he employed his best thoughts and energies for that purpose; how much toil and pains he had taken to bring the school into its present condition; and how much it grieved him to find that, with all the pains he had taken, there was so much to correct and arrange. The Doctor, however, knew the world, and that in no human inst.i.tutions can perfection be attained--nor can it be expected that they should be without faults; but he knew also that by care and attention those faults may be decreased, if not altogether got rid of, and he did not despair.

Ernest, as I was saying, had never before this thoroughly understood the Doctor. Now he did, and he found him a kind, sympathising, affectionate friend. Indeed, in my opinion, unless a man is this to his pupils, he is not fit to be a schoolmaster. Neither can a parent, unless he is his children's friend, expect to command their love and obedience.

Ernest now discovered the Doctor to be very like his own father in many respects, and therefore placed unbounded confidence in him. He gladly opened his own heart to him, and with the frankness of a warm-hearted boy, told him all his thoughts, and hopes, and wishes.

The Doctor had always liked Ernest, and felt great satisfaction at watching his rapid progress; but now he discovered qualities and talents which he had not before surmised, and from that time he placed the most perfect confidence in him, and the interest Ernest excited was as great as if he had been his own son.

At the end of the year prizes were given, and, in spite of his accident, Ernest carried off several. One of the performances which invariably created the greatest interest was the speech-making. The speech given to Ernest's cla.s.s was that part of Julius Caesar where Ca.s.sius endeavours to persuade Brutus to join the conspiracy against Caesar.

b.u.t.tar also spoke very well, and took the part of Brutus. All the neighbourhood were collected on the occasion, and a sort of stage was erected at one end of the play-room, which was ornamented with boughs of holly and other evergreens, and flags and coloured lamps.

Altogether, it was a very pretty spectacle. Instead of painted scenes, a bower of evergreens and flags was erected on the stage, in which the boys performed their parts.

Some of the bigger boys gained a good deal of applause, for the Doctor taught his pupils not only Greek and Latin, but what he looked on as of not less consequence--to write and speak their own language correctly and fluently.

Many who could scarcely express themselves so as to be clearly understood when they came to the school, had by the time they reached the upper cla.s.ses become quite eloquent, and were able to write their themes with correctness and precision. Not much was expected from the younger boys, but when Ernest began to speak, the attention of all the guests was arrested: not a whisper was heard; and when he concluded, a loud and continued applause burst forth, and even his school-fellows agreed that he had surpa.s.sed himself. b.u.t.tar also gained a fair share of the applause bestowed on his friend, and he was not jealous that he did not gain more. No one listened more attentively than did Ellis, for he had declined to speak, though urged by Ernest to do so, and tears rushed unbidden into his eyes at the success which Bracebridge had obtained.

"I tell you, you fellows, that there is not a fellow like him!"

exclaimed Tom Bouldon, clapping his hands vehemently. "He is as good, and brave, and clever as any fellow in the world. I always thought so, and now I am certain of it, and don't mind saying so."

Happily these remarks did not reach Ernest's ears. Gratifying as they must have been, they would have proved somewhat dangerous, even to a mind so well balanced as his was. He knew that he had achieved a success, but he was well aware that, after all, it was not a very great one, and that he had many more far far greater to achieve before the victory would be won.

I must not forget one of the amus.e.m.e.nts which generally terminated the winter half of the year. It was a grand race on stilts. There was a wide extent of flat meadow land in the neighbourhood, intersected with narrow ditches full of water. This was the ground selected for the sport. It was something like the Landes in the south of France.

Monsieur Malin had introduced the amus.e.m.e.nt.

Boys when they first came to the school, who had not been accustomed to walk on stilts, were surprised at the height of those used, and the rapidity with which the older fellows walked along on them. Many of them were ten feet high. The resting-place for the feet was a piece of wood flat on the upper surface, with a strap to it which could be fastened round the feet or not. The upper ends of the poles were held by the hands, with the shoulders pressing against them. By this mode a boy could leap off his stilts without risk. Some are used which do not reach above the knee, round which the end is secured by a strap, but a fall with these may prove a very serious matter, and the Doctor would not allow them to be used.

It was good fun on stilt day to see the greater part of the school mounted up high above the ground, and striding away at a rapid rate over the fields; to hear the shouts and shrieks of laughter, especially if any unfortunate wight put the end of his stilt into a ditch deeper than he expected, and, unable to draw it out again, dropped on his nose.

Monsieur Malin generally led the party, and no one cheered and laughed more than he did. This year it was arranged that a steeple-chase should take place; so it was called; but in reality it was not a steeple which formed the goal, but a low object--a white gate, which could only be seen from an elevation; therefore the boys with the highest stilts were the best able to keep it in sight.

Fancy upwards of eighty boys collected on a fine clear frosty afternoon, mounted up five or six feet off the ground, some even more, stalking away as fast as they could go over the fields, shouting, and laughing, and hallooing to each other.

As usual, Ernest was one of the most active. He and b.u.t.tar took the lead, but they were closely followed by Tom Bouldon, who was very great upon stilts. The exercise suited his temperament. He had been at the school ever since Monsieur Malin introduced them, and so he was well-practised in their use. He thus had an advantage Ernest did not possess. He went steadily on across hedges and ditches, and across ploughed fields, and moist meadows and marshes, till he overtook b.u.t.tar, and then he came up with Ernest, who was beginning to f.a.g, and then he went ahead, and finally got in at the winning-post half a field's length before anybody else.

Two days after that the school broke up, and the boys, in high spirits at the antic.i.p.ation of the amus.e.m.e.nts they were to enjoy, started off in all directions to their respective homes.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. SKATING AND OTHER WINTER AMUs.e.m.e.nTS.

Ernest liked his school very much, but he had good reason to love his home still more, for such a home as his--or rather its inhabitants, which const.i.tuted it his home--was well worthy of all the affection of his warm affectionate heart. His father and mother were so wise and sensible and kind, so just and so indulgent. The expression of their countenances and their general personal appearance at once showed that they were above the ordinary run of people; yet, n.o.ble as they looked, none but the base and evil-disposed were afraid of them. It was a pleasure to see the smiling faces and the affectionate looks with which they were received as they walked about the village, where they and their ancestors for several generations had lived before them. Often and often they might be seen simply, and, if the weather was bad, roughly, dressed; going from cottage to cottage, with a basket of medicines, or provisions and clothing, for those poor neighbours who were, they well knew, utterly unable to obtain them for themselves.

Their daughters followed their example. No more sweet, amiable, and yet refined, girls were to be found in the country. Their brothers declared that no such girls existed in the world; and yet, though they could do all sorts of things, and ride, and fish, and even play cricket with them on a pinch, they were not in the slightest degree proud or conceited.

They could sing and play, and when they went to b.a.l.l.s, which was not very often, no young ladies appeared to greater advantage, or were more lively or graceful. They were admired, and yet fully respected, by all who knew them.

I have described what Ernest was. His brothers were his equals in most respects. His eldest brother was a very fine young man, and had taken high honours at Cambridge. He was an excellent specimen of an English gentleman of the nineteenth century. Free from all affectation and pedantry, still his whole nature seemed to revolt from anything slangish or low. No oaths, nor anything which would be considered one, nor any cant expressions, ever escaped his lips. Yet he was full of life and spirits, the soul of every society in which he moved. He had numerous friends, and so mild and quiet was his disposition that he seldom or never made enemies; or rather, I may say, if he made an enemy, he quickly got rid of his enmity. All his brothers looked up to him, and loved him heartily.

"My brother John says so and so," or "My brother John did so and so,"

was a constant phrase of theirs, and it was always something good he had said or done. He was at home, and so were indeed all Ernest's brothers.

One was in the navy--Frank. What a light-hearted and merry fellow he was. He had seen some hard service, had been highly spoken of in a dispatch, and had a medal on his breast. He was a gallant, true-hearted sailor, and was as much liked by his companions afloat as his brothers were by theirs on sh.o.r.e.

Such were the inhabitants of Oaklands. The house itself was a fine old substantially-built edifice, with thick walls, standing on a gentle elevation, and overlooking a wide extent of country. The grounds which surrounded it were large, and contained woods, and shady walks, and fishponds, or rather lakes, and ornamental flower gardens, and rich velvety lawns, and kitchen gardens.

A short time before the holidays, Mr Bracebridge had written to his son, desiring to have the addresses of several of them. What was his reason for doing this, his father did not tell him.

The holidays began. What a happy Christmas-day the whole family spent together! It was spent as Christmas-day should be spent--in affectionate family intercourse, and not in a wild gaiety which is calculated to drive away all thought and recollection of the great and glorious event it is intended to celebrate on that day. How happy everybody was both upstairs and downstairs; what long yarns Frank spun of his adventures in many lands, and his hair-breadth escapes; how he made them laugh at some of his stories, and cry, if their hair did not stand on end, at others, so exciting or so full of horror did they appear. I should like to repeat some of them, but I have not time to do so now. Of course everybody was wishing for a frost, that they might have skating.

"Oh, how delightful it will be!" exclaimed the midshipman. "I have not put on a pair of skates for the last five years. I have seen ice enough and to spare in the shape of icebergs, and floes, and fields of ice, but that is not the sort of ice suitable for skating. A big, thundering iceberg is a wonderful thing; we nearly got run down by one, or rather we nearly ran into one, if the truth must be said, when I was in the `Stag,' only, of course, we always lay the blame on anything but ourselves; so in this case we blamed the iceberg for getting in our way, as if it had not just as much right to be there as we had, and as if it had not been our business to get out of its way. We were going round Cape Horn, and the master thought fit to make a considerable offing, and to keep away to the southward. It was my watch on deck. We had a fair wind on our starboard quarter. Jim Holdfast, whom I took out with me, and who promises to turn out a prime sailor, was forward. It was a pitchy dark night. We could barely make out our hands held out before us, and as to seeing across the deck, that was impossible. We had three reefs in our topsails, and though it was not blowing very hard--that is to say, a man might open his mouth without fear of having his teeth blown down his throat--we were running at the rate of nearly eight knots an hour through the water. By the way the stern of the ship lifted, and then by the feeling that she was gliding away downward into the depths of some watery valley, we knew that huge mountainous seas were rolling up astern of us. I frequently looked astern to try and make them out, but I could only hear their loud surge or slush (I must coin a word), as they broke close to our taffrail. Now and then, by keeping my eye on the sky, a vast ominous darkness came up between me and it, and that I knew from experience was a giant billow, big enough, if it once broke over us, to swallow up us, or a ship ten times as large. My watch was nearly out. I was thinking that I should not be sorry to get below, and go fast asleep. Now, `you gentlefolks of England, who stay at home at ease,' will, I dare say, fancy that no one could go to sleep under such circ.u.mstances; but for us sailors it would never do if we allowed a gale of wind or any such trifle to keep us awake when it was not our watch on deck. The officer of the watch had just ordered eight bells to be struck, that is to say, it was the end of the first watch, or twelve o'clock at night, when a voice from forward shrieked out--for it was not an ordinary hail, but a cry which showed that life or death depended on the words being heard.