The Gentleman Cadet

When one looks back through the long vista of years to those distant days when one was a cadet, and remembers one’s career there as a whole, the reminiscences that come most prominently forward are the agreeable. It seems that by some arrangement of nature the pleasant and agreeable events of the past remain longer in our memory than do those that are disagreeable. We can recall the many agreeable hours we passed with this or that cadet, many of whom have long since fallen, fighting gallantly before the enemy, or have sunk from disease in foreign climates, where their duty called them to serve. Some few still remain, most of whom have made their mark in the world, and whose names are now known, not in the corps alone in which they serve, but to the world at large, who note and remember the names of those who have distinguished themselves in various ways.

We can recall, too, how there was a majority at the Academy who had a high sense of honour and of military discipline, and who would willingly have put down bullying had they not somewhat weakly felt that by doing so they were putting themselves forward as “reformers,” – a prominence to which they objected. Though there was an evil crying out for remedy, yet there were good points even then at the Academy, that rendered it a useful school for the soldier. He there learnt to rough it, and to bear hardship, and too often injustice, without complaint. He learnt too the importance of keeping his word and acting up to a promise – matters not unusually neglected in the wide world. We believe that there is not a case on record of a cadet having broken his word of honour, or of having broken his arrest, which he was bound to keep on honour; and at the time we write of, although if a cadet were tipsy (a rare occurrence) all other cadets would try to screen him, yet, if a cadet had been known to break his arrest or his word, every other cadet would have instantly reported him, and used his utmost endeavours to obtain the most severe punishment for the offence.

There seems in this condition a vast amount of inconsistency, but inconsistency is the general characteristic of humanity, and is one of its weakest points. We usually find the best men occasionally do the worst things, the wisest men commit the most foolish acts, and the most pious act like the most wicked; misers squander their money on worthless objects, and the cautious become reckless.

There was great knowledge of character in the relater of the anecdote of the Roman Catholic who was in prison for murdering his father, but who was indignant at the idea of his being considered such a sinner as to eat meat on “a fast day.” Every day we see examples of the grocer who, having ascertained from his assistant that he had mixed the sand with the sugar, and the saw-dust with the coffee, directed him to come in to prayers, and to mind he was attentive.

In former times it was not considered at all a dishonourable act to take a knife belonging to another cadet and to appropriate this to oneself; such an act was termed “smoutching,” and was looked upon as rather a smart thing. If, however, one cadet took from another cadet a sixpence, or oven a penny, just as he had taken the knife, he would have instantly been reported to the authorities as a thief.

To kick, thrash, or fag in any way a neux was considered by old cadets only fair and according to rule; but the instant any neux was on leave, from that instant he was free from fagging, and any old cadet who was known to have fagged a neux who was on leave, even to the extent of requesting to be brushed, would have been tried by his peers.

It was ten days after joining the Academy that I first obtained my uniform, and I can recall even now the secret pride with which I first put it on. I felt now that I really had commenced the career of a soldier, and that I had gained an enviable position by passing my examination. There seemed to come upon me a feeling of responsibility as the coat came on me, and I made up my mind not to disgrace my cloth. A boy at sixteen may well be pardoned for feeling that enthusiasm which hardship and neglect sometimes cause to be extinguished in the breast of a veteran.

Having, as I may term it, shaken down in my uniform, I asked Smart one day if he would come down with me to Hostler’s. The reason proposed for this trip was to see one or two of our schoolfellows; but in my heart the reason was to show myself off in uniform before those boys who had looked down upon me when I was at Hostler’s cram-school; and I also suspect that the same reasons induced Smart to accompany me.

“We shall just find the boys going out,” said Smart, “and it will be great fun to see what they will say to you. What a sell it will be for Tomkins and Hurst – your passing – for I hear, now so many have failed, Hostler won’t let them come up for a year, so you will be an old cadet when they are second-half fellows, and will be able to fag them. Walkwell declares it was your drawing that got you into the Academy, and takes great credit to himself for having taught you.”

We arrived at Mr Hostler’s and entered the well-remembered playground, where we found the boys assembling previous to an afternoon walk. We were both welcomed with enthusiasm, whilst we were stared at as objects of wonder and admiration. In those days the difference between a cadet and a schoolboy was very great, and the cadet was looked up to as so far above the schoolboy, that the latter scarcely liked to speak to the former, for fear of meeting a rebuff. Cadets, too, very often cut their old schoolfellows, as they could not speak to anything so low. Our condescension in coming down to Hostler’s was therefore fully appreciated, whilst the reception I met from many of my old companions, caused me to believe I had been most prejudiced as regards them. There was Smith, who used to make faces at me, and who used to call me a “Hampshire hog” and “Tomfool” when I was at Hostler’s, now came with a deprecating smile on his face and shook hands with me, whilst he intimated he was awfully jolly that I had passed.

There was Bones, as we used to call him, Fraser’s great chum, who hated me after my victory over Fraser, and who used to spread false reports in the school to my detriment, now came up with “Hullo, Shepard, old fellow! You are a swell now! I’m so glad you’re a cadet?”

As I stood surrounded by an admiring group of boys I heard the well-known voice of Hostler, and somehow the old influence came over me, and for an instant I had the fear of three cuts on the hand. Hostler had seen us in the school-yard, and came down to speak to us, but I must confess the style of his address entirely took me aback. Hostler was too clever for me.

“Ah, Shepard,” he said, shaking hands, “glad to see you! Well, so my good groundwork of mathematics and Euclid passed you. I thought it would. And I told Mr Rouse you only wanted a final polish, which I hadn’t time to give you here with so many boys on hand, to give you a fair chance. Then, you see, the fact of your having been here was known at the Academy, and no doubt that helped you on. I feel much flattered at your having passed, for it shows my system is a sound one.”

I was utterly taken aback at this speech of Hostler’s after what had happened; I almost expected he would have apologised to me for his behaviour. I forgot he did not know I had overheard his conversation with reference to my not being sent up, and I could almost swear that no communication whatever had taken place between him and Mr Rouse.

Thinking I would make an awkward remark for him I said, “I’m sorry Fraser and the others didn’t pass.”

“I never thought they would, Shepard,” replied Hostler, who never moved a muscle of his face as he uttered this lie. “Fraser was idle and careless, and his friends would have him pushed on too rapidly, and so he wasn’t sound. I protested against this, but it was no use, so I foolishly gave way.”

Now it happened that Fraser had been four years at Mr Hostler’s, and had been over and over again the coarse that he had to be examined in; and when I was at Hostler’s he was held up to me as one of the most promising boys, who was to bring honour to the establishment at which he had been prepared, and who was considered very likely to pass at the head of his batch.

“You must mind and work hard for your probationary,” said Hostler. “You’ll find you’ve plenty to do; and it’s no child’s play, I can tell you.”

I thanked, him for his advice, and remarked that, having passed my first examination, I hoped I should not break down at the next.

I only once again entered Mr Hostler’s establishment from that day, but the remembrance of the misery I endured there, of the false system of teaching (or rather cramming, for he did not teach) he adopted in his school, of the whalebone and cane arguments he used to convince boys of the advantages of learning their Euclid, is still fresh in my memory; and even now the worst nightmare I can suffer from, is that I am again a boy at Hostler’s, and have failed in my Euclid.

One of the greatest defects at the Academy in former times was the impossibility of ever being alone. We were usually four in each barrack-room; we were marched about by squads, divisions, or classes; we dined, breakfasted, and had tea at squads; we were in classes from thirty to forty for study. At night we could never be alone; the snoring or turning of another cadet in the room disturbed one. Now there are some natures so affected by external influences that they are never thoroughly themselves unless they are entirely alone. Such individuals are never known in their real characters, for before others they are unconsciously actors. Men who appear idlers before the world, mere loungers on society, are not unusually when alone the deepest thinkers or the hardest workers; and to such, solitude is an essential. To many, therefore, especially to those who wished to work hard, it was a great drawback being penned up night and day with companions whose tastes not unfrequently were anything but congenial.

In spite of the hard life I led at the Academy, and the amount of fagging and bullying I had to go through, the time passed quickly; there was a novelty in everything, which was very attractive. As I advanced in my drill, and joined the squad of other “last-joined,” there was a secret pleasure in feeling I was a soldier, that a splendid career was open before me if I could only manage to pass my examinations, and that when I became an officer my career might be most favourable. I made but little progress, however, in my studies; the hard work I had gone through in order to pass, and the varied scenes and events I was daily passing through, gave me a kind of mental indigestion, and I found it very hard work to learn. Although I had passed into the Academy, I could not get over the idea that it was to a certain extent a bit of good luck that I had done so, and I believed I was somehow less gifted with a capacity for learning mathematics than were other boys, and I began to have doubts and fears whether I should pass my probationary examination, especially considering the impossibility there was in working out of academy hours.

I had, after the first two months, got accustomed, to a great extent, to the fagging and bullying. Snipson still continued my greatest tormentor, and had it not have been for him I should not have led so hard a life as I did, for Holms was often very kind, and gave me hints as to what I ought to do under various circumstances. He used also to stop Snipson from bullying me whenever he found him doing so. I consequently looked on Holms as a great friend, and should probably have passed my half-year tolerably had not a circumstance happened which considerably affected my comfort and deprived me of the society and protection of Holms.

It happened that Snipson had great difficulty in getting out of the second academy, as he was very bad in mathematics. In order, therefore, that he might work of a night, he asked Holms if he would allow him to keep up lights. I was not aware at the time I heard this request made by Snipson, and agreed to by Holms, of the risk the latter ran of severe punishment in case of detection; but as it was agreed to, that lights were to be kept up, I was called upon to assist at the preparatory arrangements.

Between the outside window and the room in which I lived there were iron bars arranged in diamond-shape; between these and the window there was a space of a few inches; between these bars a regimental cloak was carefully drawn and so spread out that from the inside of the room no ray of light could be seen coming through any little chink left by the cloak not being properly arranged. To fill up this space in a satisfactory manner four cloaks were required, which, having been placed between the window and the bars, a careful inspection was made, and matters being considered satisfactory, candles were lighted, the door locked, and Snipson commenced his studies.

Holms had gone to bed soon after the cloaks were arranged, but Snipson made me sit up, as he said he should require me to help take down the cloaks when he was tired of working; so I sat up and tried to read, but my eyes gradually closed, and more than once I fell asleep. Snipson, however, took care to wake me by tapping me on the head with a book, and thus we passed the time till about twelve o’clock.

It happened that, on the particular night in question, the officer on duty had been dining at mess, and, on returning to his quarters in the Academy, saw a slight speck of light coming from the window of our room, where a flaw had occurred by one of the cloaks slightly slipping. On coming close to the window he found that lights were being kept up, and that he had discovered the delinquents. From the officers’ quarters to those of the cadets there was a passage which might be passed through of a night. By this passage the officer entered the division, and came to our door, which he tried, and found fastened.

The instant we heard a step approaching our room, Snipson put out the lights, and commenced dragging down the cloaks. The officer, rapping loudly at the door, and requesting to be admitted, Snipson was wonderfully quick in getting down the cloaks, and then, dressed as he was, jumped into bed, telling me to open the door.

Holms had slept soundly during the greater part of this disturbance, and only woke as the knocking became more furious. Upon my opening the door, the officer on duty entered with a dark lantern in his hand, and, looking round the room, said, “Mr Holms, you have been keeping up lights!”

“I am only just awake, sir,” said Holms.

“Don’t prevaricate, sir!” said the officer. “Look here; here’s some tallow on the cloth still warm! You’ll be in arrest till further orders, Mr Holms!”

As the officer was leaving, I felt inclined to say it was not Holms but Snipson who had kept up the lights, but luckily I said nothing, for no matter who had kept them up, Holms, as head of the room, was responsible, and must bear the blame.

As soon as the officer left the room, Snipson said, “I’m awfully sorry, Holms, but it’s all the fault of that confounded young donkey, Shepard, who could not have put the cloaks up properly.

“You’ll get a licking for this to-morrow, Shepard, depend on it,” said Snipson.

“I’m safe to be smashed,” said Holms, “for I was suspected last half of keeping up lights, though they couldn’t prove it; and it’s a nuisance, as this is my last half-year.”

After a few minutes’ conversation, both Holms and Snipson agreed it couldn’t be helped, and we all went to sleep.

At the mid-day parade on the following day an order was read out to the effect that Mr Holms, having been found keeping up lights contrary to orders, was reduced from the rank of corporal, and was removed to another room, whilst gentleman cadet Brag was promoted to corporal and was placed in charge of my room.

Brag was quite a different character from Holms. He was a very small cadet, not so big as I was, though nearly two years my senior; he was not clever, at least at examinations, and was very low down in his batch, below even Snipson. He had a white, leathery face, with a most disagreeable expression, nearly white hair, a bad figure, and awkward legs and feet. Brag was generally unpopular, and was dreaded by the last-joined cadets, as he delighted in bullying for bullying sake; and as when he was a last-joined he had led a very hard life as a fag, he seemed to think he had a long account to pay back upon those who were now his juniors.

Brag came the same afternoon to take charge of my room, and I soon saw that he and Snipson, being birds of a feather, got on well together; they had one point on which they mutually agreed, viz, that I was the slackest neux they had ever seen, and wanted keeping up to the mark.

In order that this, condition of keeping me up to the mark might be obtained, Brag ordered me to start at seven o’clock the following morning, and run down to Charlton’s and see what o’clock it was by his clock.

Now Charlton’s happened to be at Green’s-end, about one mile from the Academy. As I had to go this mile and return, then to rewash and get brushed and be on parade at a quarter to eight, it did not give me much time for the performance. I started about seven on a drizzling morning, and got as far as the barracks, when I saw a clock there which showed ten minutes after seven. It suddenly occurred to me that I need not go down to Charlton’s to find out what o’clock it was, as I could find out by the barrack clock, so, turning back, I came slowly to my room, allowing about as much time as would have elapsed if I had gone all the way to Charlton’s.

“What! back again?” said Brag. “Well, what’s the time?”

“Nearly a quarter past seven,” I said.

“Was that the time by Charlton’s clock?”

“About that,” I replied.

“You’re telling me a lie,” said Brag. “You didn’t go to Charlton’s.”

“I didn’t go quite down,” I answered, as I now felt what a mistake I had made in not obeying the order literally.

“You’ve disobeyed orders, and you’ve told a lie,” said Brag. “Now you come here?”

I was now placed by Brag against the cupboards, and put into the position of an “angle of forty-five,” when he kicked my feet from under me, and I fell heavily on my back, striking my head against the cupboards as I came down.

“Up again!” shouted Brag, who seemed to warm to his work. “I’ll teach you what you get for telling me a cram, and disobeying orders.”