Chapter Twelve.
My Failure at Examination.
My second half-year passed slowly, though it did not drag its slow length along as had my first half. I fagged for Snipson every morning, and was thus treated much as was a last-joined. In my own room and division I was scarcely fagged at all, and as Forester and Fenton used to talk to me, I enjoyed their society, especially after roll-call, when I knew Snipson could not send for me on some pretence or other.
More than once Forester had asked me how I was getting on in academy, and seemed interested as to my prospect of passing my probationary examination. This also was a question about which I was anxious, for, unless I passed a satisfactory examination, I might be sent away from the Academy just in the same manner as if I had failed at my first examination.
During my first half I had decidedly gone back; the pressure that had been used to prepare for entrance seemed to have tired me mentally, and the perpetual anxiety of being fagged and bullied seemed to paralyse my mind, so that I could learn little or nothing. It was much the same during my second half, although my nights were quieter; but I felt a sort of disinclination to commence work—a feeling I have since learnt is the great drawback to progress in anything.
Men mean to begin doing something at some future period; some day they will set to work and do this or learn that; they will give up this or that bad habit, or begin to learn this or that important subject; but the to-morrow on which they are going to begin never comes, for they drive off from day to day until it is too late, and they go to their graves with very good intentions, and meaning to have done something, but they never did it.
I drove off regularly working until within a few days of the examinations, and when I tried to learn various formulas I found that my mind seemed out of condition and unable to retain a recollection of what my eyes had seen.
It was some time after this that I discovered what seemed to me a new faculty of my mind—that was a capacity of shutting off, as it were, all external matters, and bringing my thoughts to bear on some problem which, with closed eyes or daring the darkness of night, I tried to work out. My first experience of this faculty was in connexion with a game of chess. Forester had been trying to solve a problem of “checkmate in three moves,” and I had been looking on. He had failed to solve the problem when the lights were taken away. As I lay in bed thinking over this problem, I pictured to myself the chess-board and men, and I then imagined a move of the knight, which had not been tried before. The new position of the men I seemed to see plainly. Now and then the picture appeared to fade from my imagination, and it was an effort to reproduce it. I, however, managed to do so, and in a short time moved another piece. I went over three moves again and again, and at length was certain I had found out the solution. Forester was asleep, so I said nothing; but as soon as I awoke in the morning I took the chess-board, arranged the men, and found that I had solved the problem, and could checkmate in the required number of moves.
On informing Forester of this he was much amused, and seemed to think it a very remarkable performance on my part. Having thus employed my mind on a problem, I tried to make various moves for the openings at chess, and found that by practice I could develop this faculty, and could make seven or eight moves on each side and remember the position of the men. It is impossible to describe the pleasure this sort of mental exercise gave me, for as long as I lay awake I could work out chess-moves; and as the efforts seemed to tire me, I often fell asleep in the midst of some complicated series of moves. The results of this proceeding did not then dawn upon me, for I was but a boy after all, and had really to learn how to think and how to use my brain.
The examinations came with their usual regularity, and the questions were unlucky for me. That there should be any luck in examinations may strike some readers as impossible; but those who have had any experience know how much luck there is, and that it is not always a sure test of the relative knowledge of individuals to judge by the results of their examination. When I say that the questions were unlucky, I mean that it appeared as if those particular questions had been selected which referred to problems I had not studied.
As an example:—On one occasion I saw the mathematical master looking at a book and copying something from it. I saw the page was 210. On returning to my seat, I told the cadet next me that I had seen this, and that we should probably be required to work out the formula on page 210.
“Perhaps it may be the formula on page 211,” said my neighbour. “We will toss up, and see which it is—heads 210, tails 211.” It came heads, so we in joke said we knew it would be this formula.
I must own I had so little faith in what I had asserted that I learnt only superficially problem page 210, and doubt whether I could have worked it out. When, however, the examination questions were given out, I saw a very large number of marks were allotted to the problem on page 211, and this problem I had not worked up. After the examination, however, the cadet next me told me he had learnt both problems well, and expected full marks for this question. Now, perhaps I ought to have done the same, and learnt both problems, but I had devoted my time to some twenty others, all of which I knew well, and not one of which were asked.
It has often occurred to me that a different system of examination might be adopted to that now practised, in order to avoid this luck, and also to find out the extent of the knowledge of an individual on any subject.
At present a series of questions are asked, these being some ten or twelve in number, and they are supposed to take in every branch of the subject. The individual examined answers these, and these answers are limited to the questions or inquiries made. The amount of knowledge which any one may possess beyond the questions put is not ascertained, and thus the full extent of one person’s knowledge may have been reached by the questions, and only half the knowledge of another person who may have done at the examination exactly the same. To draw out the knowledge of a person at an examination, the safest way is to give far more questions in a paper than it is possible the best man can in the time answer; then by the amount of work done a fairer estimate can be formed of the relative knowledge of individuals than if only six or seven questions are given, and where, consequently, luck has a great deal to do with the results.
I was certain I had done badly in mathematics at the examination, and this was the subject that counted most; but I was not aware how badly I had done till the result of the examination was made known, when I found I was last but one, and had gained only four in the subject.
Now that I believed it was too late I was ready to stamp with rage at my folly in not having worked harder. I felt I had in me certain powers which had not been yet fully called out. It seemed that I was again sinking back into the condition I occupied at Hostler’s, and I was looked on by my own batch as very stupid. The examination I had failed to pass was, I understood, my probationary, and that therefore I should now be sent away from the Academy. It turned out, however, that because I had not joined with the remainder of my batch, and had thus been absent several weeks, I was allowed another chance and given another half-year’s trial at the Academy.
I was sent for to the Inspector’s office and briefly informed of this fact in a dry, official manner, an intimation being added that unless I worked very hard I was not likely to remain beyond the next term as a cadet at the Royal Military Academy.
I was determined that next term I would work hard and try to recover my position, and it being my third half-year I expected I should not have any fagging, and consequently should have plenty of time for working out of study hours.
Forester had passed his examination well and was fourth of his batch, and would next half be down in the Arsenal with what was termed the “practical class.” This practical class learnt all the practical work connected with field works, military bridges, military surveying, etc, and were distinguished from the other cadets by wearing epaulettes with bullion about an inch long. The practical class rarely came to the upper Academy, their barracks being down in the Arsenal. Once a month for muster, however, they were marched up to the Academy and were the envy and admiration of the younger cadets.
Snipson had failed to qualify for the practical class, and would therefore remain one more half-year at the Academy, when he would have to leave if he did not then pass into the practical class.
On my return home I had to break the intelligence to my father that I had been unsuccessful at my examination, but should have another chance for my probationary. He took the news very quietly, and told me he thought that, with the amount of fagging and bullying that was going on, it was wonderful how any cadets managed to pass their examinations at all.
During my vacation I used to regularly work every morning before breakfast at mathematics, and at night I tried to work out various problems in geometry just in the same manner as I had solved chess puzzles, and I found I could manage this performance very well. I thus established a sort of test for myself; for if I could in my mind work through a problem, I was certain I knew it, and if I could not, I soon found out where I broke down.
I used to practise also raising x + y to various powers without opening my eyes thus: (x + y) to the power of six and (x+y) to the power of eight, and so on. I found that the practice of doing this gave me a sort of extra power, and I could soon multiply any two figures by two figures in my head and obtain correct results.
From commencing such experiments as the best means for qualifying myself for future examinations, I gradually grew to like the work, and in a short time preferred working out some equation or geometrical problem to reading a dull book.
After-experience taught me that a man never does anything so well as that for which he has a liking, and as a rule we dislike those things which we know little or nothing of, or which we do badly. We grow to like any subject very often by learning it, and gradually gaining efficiency in it, and we thus are often impelled to proceed until we are surprised, on comparing with others, to find how much we have learnt in a certain time.
My vacation passed very quickly, for I was happy at home, and having always some work on hand, I was never thoroughly idle, nor did I ever experience that most disagreeable of states, etc, “How ever was I to pass the time?”
On rejoining the Academy for my third half-year, I felt very much more at my ease than I had done on the former occasions. I expected that I should have no fagging, and should do very much as I liked. There were two old cadets in my room, the head being a corporal named Woodville, and the second a cadet named Jamieson, who was only one half my senior. They were both very nice fellows, and Woodville was celebrated as a runner for long distances, he having run a mile in four minutes and fifty seconds. I had grown very much during the past year, and had improved altogether in health and strength, and found also that I could run better than when I had won my hundred and twenty yards’ race. I was still supposed to be the best short distance runner at the shop, though there were one or two who were almost equal to me.
Upon the last-joined cadets coming to the Academy, which they did the day after the rest of us had joined, they had all to pass through nearly the same ordeal that I had. Hats were smashed on entering the hall, and several new plots were started to make the cadets sharp.
One of the favourite tricks to play on a last-joined was to fill one of the tin basins with water, to open the door about afoot, and place the basin on the top of the door, then to call a neux from outside, and tell him to come to the room. The neux, of course, pushed open the door and let the basin fall on his head or back, he getting a good ducking.
This invention was very popular for some time, but all the last-joined soon heard of it, and became cautious, and either entered the doorway without opening the door any wider than it was at the time it supported the basin, or they pushed the door open from a distance.
Another amusement, which also was soon worn out, was to heat the poker, and then rest it against the handle of the door till the handle got quite hot, then to shut the door and watch from the window for cadets to pass. As soon as a last-joined could be seen, he was told to come round to the room, and naturally he took hold of the handle to open the door. The cadets on the inside of the door held fast, so that the door could not be opened. The result was that the victim burnt his hand, for at first he could not tell the handle was hot, and, never suspecting such a thing, probably fancied that the handle was very cold instead of being as it was, very hot. Any way, nearly every cadet burnt his hand who came to the door, and this was considered an excellent joke by the cadets in the room.
At that time bullying was at its height at the Academy, and I heard of various things being done which amounted to the grossest cruelty. One of these was nearly causing the death of a cadet, and exposed to the authorities to what an extent cruelty was carried.
An old cadet used to amuse himself by placing a stool upside down on the top of another stool. He then made a cadet climb onto the top of the second stool, and stand balanced on two legs of the stool. When the cadet was thus standing balancing himself, the old cadet kicked away the under stool, and brought the neux down heavily on the top of the stools.
This proceeding was much admired by Snipson, who was again in the Towers, and occupying his old room, and I heard that a cadet had been much hurt by falling on the upturned leg of one of the stools, on which he had been made to stand by Snipson. The cadet had to be taken to hospital, and was considered for some time in danger.
During the time this cadet was in hospital, Snipson ceased his practices of bullying, and was so very civil to the neux that was hurt that he succeeded in obtaining from him a promise that the authorities should not know by what means he had become hurt.
This matter was generally known among the cadets, but so bad a feeling was then prevalent at the Academy that Snipson was not condemned by the other cadets, nor did the practice referred to at all decrease.
It happened that at the dinner-squad to which I belonged there was a corporal who was a very quiet, steady fellow, and who disliked bullying. The subject of Snipson’s neux having been injured was mentioned at the squad, and I was asked if I had not once been Snipson’s fag. I replied that I had, and that he was one of the greatest bullies in the Academy.
It happened that this remark of mine came by some means to be retailed to Snipson, and led to an affair which must be described in detail.
Two or three days after the conversation at the dinner-squad, Snipson called me as we came out from morning study, and told me to go to his room after parade.
To be told to go to an old cadet’s room was usually understood to mean that a thrashing was to be administered for some cause or other. I could not recall anything I had done, for I had entirely forgotten the remark I had made at the dinner-table, and I fancied that Snipson might want to fag me for something in order to show he could fag a third-half cadet.
When I was broken off drill I went to Snipson’s room in the Towers, where I found Snipson standing by his window.
On my entering the room he said,—“Shut the door and turn the key!” I did so, and then saw that Snipson looked pale with rage, and that something unpleasant was in store for me.
The room in which we were was not more than about ten feet square; the window, like all others at the Academy, was guarded by iron cross-bars, and the furniture of the room consisted of two stools, a small table, a fender and poker, and a bed. Snipson was at that time nearly two years and a half my senior, and was much taller and stouter than I was. He had, however, an awkward way about him, and was not given to any muscle-developing games, such as cricket, football, or rackets.
As soon as I had locked the door Snipson said,—
“Look here, Shepard; you are a young blackguard, and I’m going to lick you! What do you mean by telling lies about me?”
“I have told no lies about you,” I said. “You told the fellows at your squad that I was one of the greatest bullies at the shop, so it’s no use your telling another lie to save yourself a licking?” I was taken aback at this remark, for I now remembered what I had said at the dinner-table about his being a bully. I could not, however, see how this remark could be turned into a lie, for there was no doubt about the fact of Snipson being one of the greatest bullies at the Academy; but I did not know how to argue so as to own to having called him a bully, and yet to show I was not guilty of falsehood.
“You see you’re caught?” said Snipson; “so now just put one of those stools on the other!” I hesitated a moment, and said,—“I remember saying you were a bully, but I didn’t think you would mind that, and I don’t call that a lie.”
“Ah, now you acknowledge saying what you before denied! That’s three lies you’ve told since you have been here! Now, get onto the top of that uppermost stool?”
So great had been the influence of the authority of old-cadetism on me that I obeyed Snipson’s orders, and with some difficulty climbed to the top of the stool. In an instant Snipson kicked over the lower stool, and I fell heavily on my side from a height of about five feet, the leg of the stool striking me on the shin.
Before I could recover myself, and when the pain from the blow I had received was gradually spreading, as it were, over my whole body, Snipson, who was grinning maliciously, said,—
“Put the stools in order and up again! Look sharp!” he shouted, as I hesitated to obey.
“I won’t get up again?” I said. “I may be injured seriously.”
“Then take that!” said Snipson, as he struck me with his clenched fist on the side of the head.
In an instant all fear of old cadets, of fagging, of corporals, and of trials by the seniors left me; and I remembered only Snipson’s repeated acts of cruelty to me when I first joined, his general sneering and self-sufficient manner, and his sneaking conduct relative to the neux he had so seriously injured by the very same proceeding that he was now practising on me. These thoughts flashed, as it were, over my mind like an electric message along a wire, and before Snipson could repeat his blow I caught him a fair shoulder-hit at a well-judged distance, and knocked him completely off his legs against his bed. If I had been given time to reflect after striking this blow, I should probably have taken any licking Snipson might have given me quietly; but I was not given time, for he jumped up and exclaimed,—
“I’ll half kill you for that!” and rushed at me, trying to close with me.
I believed that from his greater size and weight I should soon have got the worst of a close encounter, so I did not give him a chance of doing so, but met him with a right and left, which were delivered with all the force I had gained in hitting under Howard’s instruction, and driven by the additional energy derived from my long endurance of bullying. Snipson went down again like a nine-pin, and I now knew I could thrash him in fair fight; but I did not then know how great a coward he was, and how malicious he could be; but I soon found out my danger. Instead of getting up at once and again rushing at me, Snipson lay for a few seconds where he had fallen, and looked round the room. Suddenly he sprang up and made a dash at the fireplace, and seized the poker. He turned towards me, and I saw from his look that my life was in danger.
“Now it’s my turn?” he hissed, as he came round the table towards me, the poker held ready to strike.
In such positions as mine then was there sometimes comes to us a bright idea, which answers the purpose at the time, but which, when thought of in cooler moments, seems most unlikely to have been of any use, as it could be so easily seen through. The conditions, however, of excitement often induce a state quite unfit for calm reasoning, and most unexpected results are then produced which appear afterwards to be absurd.
As Snipson was coming towards me, with his poker ready to strike me, his back was towards the door, which, as I said before, was locked, and by which consequently no one could enter. I, however, looked over Snipson’s shoulder, and said, “Hullo, Woodville! you are just in time.”
Snipson instantly turned his head to see whether any one was there, and at the same moment I sprang on him, seized the wrist that held the poker, and, throwing my right arm round his neck, tripped him up, when we both fell on the floor, I being uppermost. In the struggle the poker had fallen out of Snipson’s hand, and I instantly gained possession of it, and, jumping on my feet, stood over Snipson, who now did not attempt to rise, but in a half-conciliatory, half-threatening tone, said, “Now you’d better mind what you are about, for the old cadets will give you an awful licking for this!”
“If you tell the old cadets that I hit you,” I said, “I’ll go straight to the Governor, and tell him it was you who injured your neux, and nearly killed him, and I’ll report that you tried to hit me with a poker.”
Saying this, I unlocked the door and rushed out of the room, and went to my own, which I luckily found empty. I closed the door and sat down to consider what I had better do.
I had heard that, shortly before I joined the Academy, a neux had struck an old cadet, and had in consequence been tried by a sort of court-martial by the old cadets, and had been severely thrashed. Not content with this, the body corporate of the old cadets had ordered that no neux should speak to the culprit, and, in addition, he was daily placed in arrest and turned out to drill.
The neux could not stand this ordeal, and ran away from the Academy to his friends. An inquiry into the matter afterwards took place, but a case of cruelty could not be brought home to any particular individual, and the cadet’s friends not having any interest, the affair was dropped. I anticipated that some such treatment would be meted out to me, for, in spite of Snipson’s proceedings, I knew that the offence of striking an old cadet was looked on as so heinous, that no extenuating circumstances would be allowed to outweigh the crime. My threat to report Snipson I did not intend to carry out, but made it with the hope that it would prevent him from telling the old cadets that I had knocked him down. After some minutes’ consideration I went off to D’Arcy’s room to tell him all about the fight, and consult as to what should be done.
When I described to D’Arcy how I had knocked Snipson down, and had escaped his attack on me with the poker, he was delighted. He told me also that the old cadets detested Snipson, and he did not believe they would back him up if he told them what I had done. “I’ll bet any money,” said D’Arcy, “that unless Snipson goes at once now he is in a rage, and tells some of the seniors, he won’t say a word about it.”
“Why not?” I inquired.
“Well, because he knows for your own sake that you won’t say anything, and he would probably be ashamed to own that a fellow so much smaller than he is gave him a licking. I’d advise you to keep quiet, and don’t tell anybody else.”
When we went into dinner I saw Snipson, who showed no signs of the recent set-to; he took no notice of me, and I could tell that as yet he had made no mention to the old cadets of my performance. The day also passed, and the next, without anything occurring, and I began to think Snipson meant to keep quiet; but on the following morning, after breakfast, Fenton, on returning to our room, said, “So Snipson gave you a thrashing the other day?”
I was so taken aback by this remark that I said, “Who told you so?”
“Snipson did,” replied Fenton. “He said you had been cheeky about him, and he had you over and licked you. He said you seemed disposed to show fight, but he soon took that out of you.”
I listened with amazement at this speech of Fenton’s; it was my first experience of the gross misrepresentation of facts which was possible when only two people were present, and I was astonished and amused at the absurdity of the report. It was my first experience of the wilful perversion of truth possible when two persons were together without witnesses. I wish it had been my last. There will probably be many among the readers of this book who have themselves had similar experiences, for, if they have not, their career must have been singularly limited and lucky. There are men—ay, and women too—who from an inability to represent facts correctly, or from interested motives, or from vanity, will misrepresent occurrencies and make out that black was white, and yes, no. There are men and women whom it is dangerous to speak to or be with without witnesses, and we believe that when all secrets are revealed it will be found that more perjury has been committed in connexion with tête-à-tête interviews than with any other event in life, from the days of Joseph to the present time.
During the day D’Arcy came to me, and laughed immensely as he told me that Snipson had told the old cadets what a licking he had given me. “He said you tried to escape from the room, but he locked the door and just polished you off. You are quite certain,” said D’Arcy, “that everything occurred as you told me?”
“Quite,” I replied, “and Snipson is a liar!”
“I believe you,” replied D’Arcy; “but you had better keep quiet, and you will now escape being thrashed by the old cadets, which is no joke, I can tell you.”
I followed d’Arcy’s advice, and did not even deny that I had been thrashed by Snipson, although I could not help adding, on one or two occasions, that “I should not mind such a licking being repeated.”
This was my last adventure with Snipson, who had been a thorn in my side since my first joining the Academy. As, however, it was not the last that I knew of his career, I may here mention what I knew of his future, and then expunge his name from these pages.
Before the end of the half-year Snipson was found drunk by the officer on duty. As he had been nearly four years at the Academy, and had but little chance of qualifying, it was intimated to his friends that they had better withdraw him from the Academy. Following this hint, Snipson suddenly disappeared, and his name was soon forgotten where it had once been a terror to all last-joined.
Twenty years after the events related in this book I was walking down Oxford Street when I saw coming towards me a man with a seedy, threadbare frock-coat, the arms of which were much too short for the wearer, and the collar of which came too high. The coat had evidently previously graced the form of another wearer, and when its youthful beauties had faded had become the property of its present owner. A portion of shirt was visible, and plainly indicated that it had been far too long absent from the washerwoman. A hat bent and without gloss surmounted a red face, with eyes somewhat like those of a crying child, and a beard of about four days’ growth. Brown trowsers, creased and frayed, stained and patched, hung over a pair of split, misshapen shoes, and completed the attire of a man whose type is now and then seen in London.
Something about the man at once attracted me, and I thus noted his appearance. The face, though altered, and indicating the effect of drink, I yet recognised; and as the man walked past me and turned his head so as to avoid showing me his face, I knew this wretched failure of a man was my once bully, Snipson. He had failed as a cadet and he had failed as a man; and from his appearance it was evident he had not done what some men do, who in their young days have failed, etc, begin again at the bottom of the ladder, and by steady work endeavour to recover, themselves; but he was always scheming to recover himself by one grand coup, and was always being disappointed.
I turned round quickly after I had passed Snipson, and saw him peeping at me from a shop-door. When he caught my eye he turned and walked on with an air and style that showed he had not yet suffered enough to make him sensible of his own defects, nor was he yet in a state deserving of sympathy.
One of the singular and yet universal peculiarities in the character of such men as Snipson is, that they assert, and evidently believe, that their unfortunate state is in no manner due to any fault or failing of their own. They can always assure you that if this man had not done so-and-so, or that man had not failed them in the most unexpected way, they would have been all right. They are themselves never wrong; they don’t ever admit a mistake; they are convinced of their own cleverness, and satisfied with their own knowledge. Former companions who have “got on” in life they speak of as “lucky beggars,” and have usually something to say in disparagement of such men, as a sort of attempt to drag down the successful to their own low level. They rarely, if ever, admit any merit or skill in others, and attribute all that others may win, by hard work and thought, to “luck,” and all their own failures to “bad luck.” This was Snipson’s state twenty years after he was a bully—idle and untruthful as a gentleman cadet.