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'^^ This dialogue deals in the manner 
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DuLWiCH is dear to thousands of men and 
boys. Thousands talk of it, write of it, and 
hear of it with pleasure ; and perhaps every 
view in which it is regarded arouses in them 
a certain amount of interest because of the 
contrast which it presents with their own. 

Dulwich is, as most people know, a great 
school, in which there are day-boys and 
boarders — generally five or six times as many 
day-boys as boarders : its Statutes thus order 
the proportion ; for boarders hang more 
closely together than day-boys, and where 
they preponderate in numbers, since there is 
always a tendency in regulations of all kinds 
to accommodate themselves to the interest 
of the stronger body, the interests of the 
day-boys are often a little disregarded. The 
existence of day-boys and boarders side by 



side, the former numerically far stronger than 
the latter, is of great value to the school. 
The presence of boarders is valuable as 
strengthening that independent tone, and that 
temper of generosity and public spirit which 
should prevail at a school ; and the presence 
and strength of the day-boys is valuable as 
tempering the independence of the tone. At 
a boarding school there is always a danger 
that boys will form their own code of laws 
and rules of life without any reference to 
the opinions of their elders ; and obviously 
boys are not able to do this with profit to 

Dulwich has grown to its present position 
through curious stages. About three hundred 
years ago, Edward AUeyn the actor acquired 
a large estate in the south of what is now 
London over the border, and provided on it 
a College — for a warden, fellows, a chaplain, 
alms-men and alms- women, and twelve poor 
scholars. For this institution he asked for 
a charter. But there was a delay of nine 
years on the part of the Lord Chancellor — 
Lord Chancellor Bacon — in granting this 
charter ; no one knows exactly why ; but 
in days when individuals have great power 


and there is not much pubUcity in the con- 
duct of business, many abuses occur. During 
these nine years Alleyn's views altered. He 
wished his school to be like Winchester and 
Eton, and he applied to these schools for 
information as to school arrangements. The 
charter however was granted at last in the 
terms of his original application, apparently 
much to his annoyance, and the school 
gradually settled itself to follow the charter. 
This was its authorised guide of life until 
in the middle of last century Parliament 
arranged a new scheme for it. 

At this time there was need, as there had 
been often before, for some interference in 
the affairs of Dulwich College, or rather 
of AUeyn's College of God's Gift. The 
Warden and Fellows were of little use in the 
world ; they succumbed often, as many people 
succumb, to the temptations which beset 
wealth and idleness ; they were apt to be 
self-indulgent, conceited, and quarrelsome, 
narrow in their views and mean in their pro- 
ceedings ; a poor set of people, well clad and 
well fed, with a varnish of politeness, but 
often somewhat rotten at heart. As to the 
school, the fewer boys there were, the more 


comfortable were these misguided men ; and 
naturally therefore there were very few boys 
— poor scholars — poor in wealth, but poorer 
in a truer sense, because of the incompetence 
of their masters. Much to the good of every 
one, the Commissioners interfered with this 
unsatisfactory position ; and now began a 
long wrangle, in which many men, whose 
hearts were kind enough, lost their tempers, 
and considered each other, very unjustly, 
both knaves and fools. One set of men took 
their stand upon the terms of the charter, 
and demanded the estabhshment of a school 
for poor scholars ; the other upon the second 
intention of AUeyn, and demanded a school 
like Eton and Winchester. Eventually the 
dispute was settled by the establishment of 
what was really needful ; the great revenues 
of the estate were applied partly to the estab- 
lishment of schools in poor neighbourhoods 
in London, in parishes with which AUeyn 
was closely connected, partly of a school 
for poorer boys in Dulwich, and partly of 
Dulwich College itself. There were never 
wanting, during the long unholy wrangle 
that took place concerning the matter, men 
connected with the College who desired only 


a school for poorer boys, whose education 
they wished to be directed simply to the 
earning of their daily wages ; and the presence 
of this desire in some of the College autho- 
rities prolonged the wrangle, and did much 
to starve the College, by lessening the grants 
made to it. But Dulwich at last emerged 
as a great public school, for circumstances 
continually and steadily proved their desire 
to be foolish, though as was natural, they 
refused to abandon it, and never could really 
bring themselves to see that they had been 
all along mistaken. These sad times are 
nearly past, and there is little to remind the 
present generation of them, excepting a bitter 
memory or two, or a misconception or two, 
the records of antiquarians, and the shape 
of the College buildings. 

The days that are spent in Dulwich College 
now are those spent under those circumstances 
which are best for boys, the circumstances 
of public school life, and of the best kind. 
No doubt these days have many blemishes 
in them. Education generally has received 
so much attention lately that it is not likely 
to have escaped without harm from its friends. 
Man has power to make excellent arrange- 


ments, and excellent schemes ; and also bad 
arrangements and bad schemes, thinking that 
they are excellent ; and those who are called 
experts sometimes make arrangements of the 
latter as well as of the former kind. Even 
if the schemes are good, human nature, as 
shown in boys and masters, will still contrive 
to bring some mischief out of them ; and 
if on the other hand they are bad, human 
nature will still contrive to bring some good 
out of them. Thus in life at Dulwich, as in 
that of every other public school, there are 
plenty of blemishes and there is plenty of 
good ; and the following pages represent an 
attempt to describe just one day of it. 

I suppose that of almost all the machinery 
working in the world, the machinery at school 
is least seen, and its nature taken most on 
trust. No one visits form rooms during 
lesson time, and the accounts which boys 
carry home are often not to be trusted ; not 
because boys distort them on purpose, but 
because, as every one knows, accurate state- 
ment is nearly impossible excepting among 
those who are trained to make it, and because 
no one at school sees quite all that happens, 
and, when he is young, guesses badly at the 


rest. It is possible also to take exception to 
the tone of many accounts of school life given 
in stories, in which boys are represented as 
continually trying to evade the school rules, 
as subjects by no means in sympathy 
with the powers that are supposed to con- 
trol them ; and again as speaking continually 
in a kind of strange semi-smart dialogue of 
repartee one to the other ; and as destitute 
of serious thoughts or hopes. These stories are 
objectionable, among other reasons, because 
they do mischief to boys, and because they 
largely misrepresent both fact and nature. 
No doubt when boys are grouped, with twenty- 
j&ve in a group, in front of their master, each 
boy apparently doing the same thing, but 
each boy different from the other, and from 
his master — no doubt outward similarity im- 
plies a certain amount of hypocrisy or acting. 
Often one boy is thinking about his pocket- 
money, another about his play, another about 
his dog or his rabbits, or something to eat, 
or some one with whom he has quarrelled, 
and only a few about irregular verbs and 
their work. But even this is not always 
true, and as a rule, with most masters, most 
boys attend to their work, and really do not 


dislike it. No doubt this is a fact which 
it is possible to overstate, and no doubt the 
mind of a boy often rebels against the re- 
straint which he must endure at school. But 
as a rule boys, who almost constantly need 
this restraint, would feel much ashamed of 
their school if their school did not require 
it of them, and the same is true far more 
completely with regard to out- of- school life. 
For discipline, whatever it may have been 
in past times, is as a rule reasonable in these 
days, and boys are reasonable, as they always 
have been, and like to be kept in order. A 
boy who is undisciplined loses much which 
he himself values. When old boys come back 
to school, if they say to their master as some 
boys do, perhaps with an air of triumph, 
'* I used to play at catch in preparation,'' 
or '' You used to think I learnt my lessons, 
but I did not,'' or '' I used to crib," their 
master speaks in accordance with their real 
sense when he says, '' The more foolish you ! 
you were miserably silly in doing what you 
say that you did." 

Perhaps some day this view may prevail 
among those who write stories for boys, and 
also among all parents. An old man's stories 


of his school Hfe are even now often of the 
kind that these triumphing boys tell to their 
masters ; stories that he managed by some 
trickery or some deceit to avoid doing what 
it was good for him to do ; as though he were 
to boast of not having taken his doctor's 
medicine when he was sick, or having eaten 
things that disagreed with him when he was 
healthy ; or of having eluded some one who 
was looking for him to give him a hundred 
pounds. Learning, however, is worth many 
hundreds of pounds, and not one hundred 
only, and is less likely to be misapplied. 
Such an old man makes a bad father in this 
important respect, and, so far as he is a bad 
father, his children will requite him for his 
badness, just as David's children requited 


It is a pretty sight, one which pleases those 
who Hke to look at healthy and joyous life, 
and one which causes reflection to any one 
who philosophises upon human affairs, to 
see the Dulwich boys come to school. From 
every one of the avenues converging upon 
the school, by almost all ways of conveyance, 
the train, the motor-car, the bicycle, the un- 
aided foot, walking fast and slowly, thinking 
and thoughtless, with lessons known and 
unknown, careless and full of care, eager and 
stolid, ambitious and unaspiring, from almost 
every other house, and from the four board- 
ing houses, they come — the Dulwich boys to 
school — as the clock fingers begin to near 
the time of nine o'clock. The bell breaks 
upon their ear at 8.55, and almost each one 
moves slightly in acknowledgment of the 
sound ; the school hand seems to have reached 
each one, his attendance and his lessons become 
slightly more of a reality to him as his distance 


from what he has to do at school is more 
accurately measured. The bigger boys moving 
with more regular step receive mental notice 
from the smaller ones — like so much that 
goes on at school, not apparent ; for boys 
show often no sign of noticing that of which 
they think much and talk much afterwards. 

Of all the boys, perhaps, he who received 
most of this silent notice was Grant, the 
captain of the school. Each boy as Grant 
passed him was aware of the fact, and if there 
was anything different about Grant from 
that which had been about him the morning 
before, most boys noticed it, and spoke of 
it. Indeed he was an important and notable 
boy : with still nearly two years to pass at 
school before he went up to the University, 
he was already head of the school in school 
work, and a good cricketer and football 
player ; in both games representing the school. 
He had received his colours in cricket after 
making thirty runs against Bedford School 
in the season before, and taking two wickets 
towards the end of the game. He had not 
yet received his football colours, but he was 
playing half-back for the First Fifteen, and it 
was generally considered that the team was 


incomplete without him. His step was quick 
and his carriage free ; a boy of middle height 
and well-knit frame, light blue eyes, brown 
hair, and fairly resolute mouth. He was 
more than ordinarily noticed on this day, 
for it was the day on which the school played 
Tonbridge School at football. 

Each boy felt himself to be a little nearer 
to the game as Grant passed him, and each 
group turned to speak of the match. Grant 
walked fast, and passed all boys and was 
passed by none ; and as the boys saw him 
go forward, they said, '' Grant has to read.'* 
This was so, and it was necessary for him to 
be in the corridor of the first floor of the 
senior block at 8.50 to go down with the 
Master, and along the senior cloister, and 
through the passage and up the great side 
stairs in the middle block, and into the Great 
Hall to read the lesson to the Master, in pre- 
paration for reading it at prayers to the whole 
School. At 8.45 the door from the Master's 
house opened, and he came out with a paper 
or two in his hand and went into the Sixth 
form room, greeting a boy from the Mathe- 
matical form, who was there thus early to 
mark his name in the register of attendance ; 


looking at the register himself, and then going 
into his room which lay nearly opposite to 
the Sixth form door. Grant was ready for 
him as he came out from the room, as he 
would have been ashamed not to be, and the 
two went together into the Great Hall, the 
Master pausing to give the papers in his hand 
to the porter who was waiting at his lodge 
passage to say good-morning and to receive 
any direction necessary for the business of 
the day. 

'' These boys are away from school to-day,*' 
said the Master, giving some slips of paper 
to the porter. *' This is for the masters' 
common room ; and I want to see Mr. Hyde 
and Mr. Carter the prefects, in the interval.'' 

** Yes, sir," said the porter, a young man 
and a good man, who had served a gun with 
General French throughout the South African 

The Master found the lesson in the old 
and too untidy Bible, which lay on the lectern. 
'' Read from there to there," said he, pointing 
to some marks in the Bible, '' omitting these 
verses that are looped." Grant read it through 
aloud. He had read the lesson several times 
before, and thus knew how to manage his 


voice ; and the rehearsal was Hkely to be 
soon over. The lesson was of six verses chosen 
from the 147th Psalm. 

'' Now you try and make the boys hear, 
and make them listen,'* said the Master after 
the first reading. 

Grant wondered for a moment whether 
the Master, or *' the old man '* as he called 
him in his mind, really expected the boys 
to listen, and for himself he rather hoped 
that they would not ; for he was not proud 
of his reading, and kept his religious feeling 
much in the background. 

''The boys like to listen," said the Master 
turning upon him, " at least they will if you 
will think about what you are reading, and 
you must not be ashamed to show it. Don't 
you see what a beautiful lesson it is ? " 

Grant acknowledged its beauty, certainly 
to the Master, and more hesitatingly to him- 
self, and with a passing wonder whether the 
Master had chosen the lesson with any refer- 
ence to the football match, read it again. 
When the reading was done the Master re- 
peated musingly, '' neither taketh He pleasure 
in any man's legs," and Grant wondered 
with a rather more permanent wonder. 


'' Have you a hymn-book ? '' said the Master 
as they turned from the lectern. 

'' Yes, sir/' said Grant. 

Still the Master stood and looked first at 
the Bible and then at Grant, and Grant stood 
and looked first at the Master and then at 
the Bible. Then he laughed and went to 
the Bible and turned the leaf back so that 
the Bible was open to the beginning of the 
Psalm. The Master laughed and said, *' I 
see that you are not altogether careless of the 
future, and have some idea of your duty in 
you, and prepare for it.'' 

The second reading had been a little better 
than the first ; but when the time came that 
the hymn had been sung, and Grant advanced 
to the lectern in front of the masters on the 
platform, and read the lesson, any feeling 
in him that it was a beautiful lesson had 
vanished, and it became just a matter of 
business to him to read it — and thus it was 
just a matter of business to the boys to listen 
to it. 


There were three lessons at least to be said 
by all the boys on this match day : one from 
9.15 to 10.45 ; this one was broken for many 
boys into two, but not for the classical Sixth, 
the form in which Grant was ; another from 
II to 12, and yet another from 12 to i. There 
was an interval from 10.45 to 11 o^clock ; 
this part of the morning was tolerable, because 
it was possible to spend it in talking of the 
match, but the rest of the morning was 
likely to go heavily. What was Plancius 
and his quarrel with Laterensis, and what 
was Cicero, to a form of boys who wished to 
think about the football match which was to 
be played that afternoon, and whose thoughts 
turned to it continually ? The boys knew that 
the lessons must be endured ; but they waited 
with impatience, even the most respectable 
of them, even most of the prize winners in 
their forms, for i o'clock, when they intended 
to take a plunge into football, and remain 



there for the rest of the afternoon, until they 
perhaps raised their minds for other thoughts 
at preparation time. 

First there was the pleasure of hearing and 
giving information and making prophecies 
and noting players and reading the notices 
about the match and the list of players, a 
pleasure which would extend all through 
the interval openly, and covertly, in a certain 
degree, in some forms and classes, throughout 
the whole morning. Then there was the joy 
of seeing the Tonbridge team arrive, carrying 
their bags, accompanied by Hyde and Carter, 
and one or two other members of the school 
team ; and of noting their shoulders and 
legs, and comparing with them the shoulders 
and legs, and the capacities which they implied, 
possessed by the members of the Dulwich 
team. There was the calling to mind that 
information about each boy in the Tonbridge 
team which the newspapers had only too 
liberally supplied ; and then the shortened 
games, from 2 to 2.45 o*clock, and the strolling 
about the ground and the waiting, talking, 
and anticipating. 

All this seems at first not wholesome, 
and not that for which the boys came to 


school : it seems to suggest that too high 
an estimate was placed upon what was really 
of secondary importance, namely, the issue 
of a football match. If the frame of mind 
which has been described had been permanent, 
this criticism would have been well-judged. 
But in fact it was not permanent, and be- 
longed only to this day ; and it was in itself 
wholesome, because it implied enthusiasm for 
an object which was not personal, the power 
to rejoice in an honour which affected no 
boy individually, and at the same time a 
recognition that the honour must be won 
according to law or that it would be better 
for it not to be won at all. 

At a quarter past nine, however, all these 
joys seemed rather far away ; for there were 
the lessons to be done first. And first, for 
the classical Sixth there was the lesson in 
Cicero's speech for Plancius. The Sixth form 
master, Mr. Smith, had a feeling that the 
wits of his form would wander from his lesson 
this morning ; and therefore, like a brave 
man, he set himself to prevent this, and know- 
ing his work and his pupils he began on the 
lesson with a confident exterior. 

'' Attwater, begin to construe,'* said he. 


Attwater's construing generally stirred the 
form, though in a way not complimentary to 
Attwater. There was more in his construing 
than the simple rendering of a piece of Greek 
or Latin into English. There was a good 
deal of Attwater himself ; and many boys 
commented strongly upon Attwater and every- 
thing that represented him. He was a boy 
who would attend to what he was doing him- 
self, but found it very hard to attend to 
anything done by other people, unless they 
were of a caste superior to his own. He 
thought much of the aesthetic side of every- 
thing, especially in Church matters, holding 
Nonconformity in very low esteem, dressing 
himself carefully, and scenting his pocket 
handkerchief ; and when he came into any 
company, wondering what the company was 
thinking of him. He was often compelled 
to acknowledge that his companions at school 
did not think highly of him, and thus at school 
he was not very happy. But in drawing- 
rooms, his reception seemed to him generally 
more satisfactory. On the whole, perhaps, his 
greatest misfortune was that he was what 
is called good-looking, and that he had heard 
people talking of the beautiful expression 


of his dark eyes. If only they would have 
made their remarks out of his hearing, 
no great harm would have been done ; 
but since they spoke partly to please his 
mother, and partly to please the boy himself, 
they had made their remarks on him in his 
hearing, and this put ideas into the boy's 
head which had done much mischief to his 
character. He burned to distinguish himself, 
but being rather lazy, and finding this easy 
way to distinction — of simply looking with 
these same dark eyes — provided for him, he 
took it, with a few others of the same kind, 
and thus became a slave to a bad master. 

He stood up now to construe, having really 
prepared his lesson, but wishing the form 
to think that he had not, that he might seem 
both clever and daring. For though he 
was a school prefect, he was always anxious 
to show that he was not altogether a prefect 
at heart, and to stand well with boys who 
did not regard school duties with reverence. 
He first read a piece of the speech ; he had 
ears for the rhythm of the language, but he 
would not use them, and brains to criticise 
the speech, but he would not allow them 
to have fair play ; for he thought that some 


boys, perhaps Hyde and Carter particularly, 
when they heard of his proceeding, would 
admire him more if he did not. As he read 
he made mistakes on purpose, blushing when 
Mr. Smith did not notice them. He was pre- 
tending, as the boys knew quite well and 
as Mr. Smith guessed, to be preparing the 
lesson as he read ; and then he began to 
construe as though he were construing at 
sight, going a little wrong in a hard passage, 
which in fact he knew well enough. 

When the construe was done, Mr. Smith 
began to teach the form with regard to it. 
He said, '' Was Plancius* father as good a 
man as Cicero says he was ? '* 

'' I don't know,'' said Attwater. 

** Or care ? " said Mr. Smith quite sweetly. 

'' Not much," said Attwater, thinking of 
his own view of Hyde and Carter. 

'' What do you think ? " said Mr. Smith, 
turning to No ton. 

*' I suppose he was," said No ton, who 
knew that Mr. Smith supposed that he was 

'' When a man praises another, do you 
always believe him ? " said Mr. Smith. 

'' Generally," said Noton. 


'' And witnesses to character ? " 

" Yes, sir/* said Noton, much pleased with 

*' Have you read 'Pickwick'?" said Mr. 
Smith, who always tried to keep ancient and 
modern times in close connection. 

" No, sir,'* said Noton, still more pleased, 
while the form certainly listened. 

" Well, some of you have," said Mr. Smith. 
'' There is a trial there in which a lawyer 
named Buzfuz " — Mr. Smith spoke with pro- 
found seriousness, since the boy had refused 
to enter with him into his lighter treatment 
of the subject — '' who praises a Mr. Bardell. 
But his praise was not deserved, but given 
only for the purposes of his case. He was 
dead, like Plancius' father. Of course one 
reason for praising a person is that he is dead. 
A good reason, Noton ? " 

'' Yes, sir," said Noton ; thinking that Mr. 
Smith thought it a bad one. 

*' And another reason because it helped your 
case. A good reason also ? " 

'' Yes," said Noton, almost chuckhng ; but 
the form did not much like him, so that he 
had his fun mostly to himself. 

" In fact," said Mr. Smith, warming to his 


subject, and dropping for the moment the 
drags upon it and turning to the form, '' Those 
whom Cicero praises do not necessarily deserve 
praise. He praises for two or three reasons, 
the first because men were his chents, or 
their relations were ; and secondly, because 
they wished the Roman constitution to remain 
as it was, as Sulla left it ; and thirdly, very 
often because they had asked him to dinner. 
Three bad reasons ; but when Cicero praises, 
he praises very fully : throw praise enough 
and some of it will surely stick.*' 

Here Mr. Smith stopped ; and Grant whis- 
pered to Coggan, '^ What time are the Ton- 
bridge boys coming ? '' 

" One twenty," said Coggan. 

" Come down and meet them," said Grant. 

'* All right," said Coggan. 

Mr. Smith thought that Grant was resent- 
ing his attack upon Cicero, and said, '' I ex- 
pect it's true. Grant. It is in his style, and 
only in part of his character that we are to 
imitate Cicero. Not that he was not a good 
man, as those times went ; but we know 
better now, I think, Attwater. We know 
that we ought to be sincere ? " 

Attwater looked somewhat confused ; and 


the form looked at him with interest, but 
not admiration. 

*' We ought to appear what we are, and 
have no pretences ? '* 

The form was a httle amused. 

*' Unless, indeed, we are engaged as advo- 
cates, we ought not to pretend that we 
know when we do not know ? nor that we 
do not know when we do ? '* 

The form certainly forgot the match for 
a moment in order to chuckle at Attwater. 

'* We should not conceal our real sentiments 
for any reason, in fact, I believe, Noton ? '' 
continued Mr. Smith. '' Not for our own 
gain ? " Noton looked for something to say. 
*' Nor to exalt ourselves ? Our object should 
always be just the discovery and expression 
of truth ? '' 

It was a very small consolation to Noton 
that he thought of a reply which seemed to 
him quite satisfactory, about two minutes 
afterwards. When he had hit upon the reply, 
he wondered whether he should lay it up 
by him in his memory for future use if Mr. 
Smith ventured on such treatment of him 
again, or should put it before the form in the 
prefect's room on that day. The former was 


a bird in the bush, and it was uncertain 
altogether whether the opportunity of scoring 
off Mr. Smith would ever occur ; but if it did 
occur, the result would be more glorious. 
The latter could certainly occur, if Noton 
wished, but the amount of glory consequent 
upon it was uncertain, and Noton certainly 
would either be required to hold his peace, 
or possibly subjected to some indignity worse 
than that which he was endeavouring to 
remove ; accordingly he decided for the 
former plan, that of waiting for another turn 
with Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith, with this ad- 
vantage of priority, then left this personal 
manner of teaching, and began to make re- 
marks upon Cicero himself. Mr. Smith was 
a new master and a good man, who liked 
both Cicero and the truth, and all his pupils ; 
and thus his charity was comprehensive 

''Is it right ? I am afraid that I shall 
make some of you think so, when I say that 
I do not think so. But consider the point. 
Here is Cicero, in one sense the most magnifi- 
cent speaker, except one, who has ever uttered 
a word. He is master of every kind ^ of 
rhetorical effect. See how he makes a pointed 


antithesis where we see Uttle of one. ' Nee 
si a populo praeteritus est quern non oportuit, 
a judicibus condemnandus est qui praeteritus 
non est.' Look at any sentence ; see how 
the words come ; each in its place, and the 
right word so as to tell. Listen to the sentence 
read, and catch the cadence of it from the 
sense, and the sense from the cadence." 

Then he read one. *' Ana all for what ? 
to make the judges believe what was not 
true : Plancius was his client, and every- 
thing that could be said to win the case, 
whether it was true or not, must be said. 
You say you may leave the matter to the 
judges to decide, after putting a view of it 
before them. But he does not simply put a 
view of it before them, he backs the view as 
his own, and pledges his high character to 
make it believed. And again why ? Because 
he wished to maintain his reputation ; that 
is, because he wished to gratify his pride, 
and earn his money. Who can really say 
a word for this, excepting that mankind has 
agreed not to be severe in judging the prac- 
tice ? I say this to you as a matter arising 
from the Cicero, not to push an opinion upon 
you, but to make you think about a question, 


which you will see like all other questions in 
Cicero or elsewhere is not ancient only but 
modem also ; for Roman history is the same 
in texture as English, and the texture is 
human nature." 

James' father was a barrister of repute 
and James felt interested in all this, but 
decidedly militant. 

'* And now shall we go on ? " said Mr. Smith. 
He looked round to choose another boy to 
construe while all the boys looked down upon 
their books, with the idea that if any looked 
up Mr. Smith would fix on him. Not that 
they did not know their lesson well enough 
to get through it ; but from a principle of 
prudence, and a dislike to personal foolhardi- 
ness, just as people shrink from going into 
a house where there are the measles, or as 
people in a gun factory hate to see a gun, 
even when unloaded, pointed at any one. 

Mr. Smith called upon Emmett, but before 
Emmet t could utter a word, he went on: 
'' Just a minute ! did Cicero gain by this ; 
did he really make people believe what he 
wished them to believe by rhetoric ? He 
cannot make us, excepting Noton, but that 
is exceptional. Don't think, however, that 


he did not make the Romans and his audience 
— sit down a minute, Emmett — beheve. They 
believed. How do you know ? Perhaps the 
best proof is that Cicero did it. He was a 
master of persuasion, and if there had been a 
better way to persuade he would have taken 
it. It is one thing for us to sit here and 
criticise, here in this cold-hearted room, with 
no great love for Cicero, feeling a little vexed 
at him perhaps for keeping us from our games ; 
but quite another to see his fine form and 
face, see him with his great reputation, the 
pride of Rome both in life and speech, stand 
up ; and see his throat swell with fine sound 
and hear his great voice roll. And however 
much he distorted fact, he never played with 
the principles of morality. In politics, indeed, 
where he really was sincere, he did not per- 
manently persuade ; but this was because 
there he was on the wrong side, and he had 
time and its arrangements as his adversaries 
against him. His words as a poHtician were 
well chosen and well arranged, and his voice 
excellent ; there was no fault to be found 
with his oratory, and yet if the power to 
persuade or to obtain what is wanted be the 
test, there was more oratory in the single 


sentence uttered by Caesar, * Stand aside, 
young man, it is easier for me to say than 
to do,* than in the whole of the speech for 
Sestius. The young man stood aside as he 
was desired ; and as he never would have 
done for all the argument and oratory in 
the world/* 

Mr. Smith grew quite warm as he uttered 
all this ; and interested at least half his 
audience. But Coggan whispered to Grant, 
'' Jimmy had a stomach ache this morning.** 

Grant looked very serious, so serious that 
Mr. Smith, who observed the whisper, thought 
it not necessary to interfere, but put the 
waiting Emmett to construe his piece ; which 
he did with perfect fluency. It related to the 
interference of the tax farmers with Roman 
elections ; and Mr. Smith went on to describe 
English elections, and the introduction of 
subordinate considerations into them, from 
the brass band of old days, to the public 
house club of the present time, and all the 
kinds of pressure which it is possible to put 
upon voters, arising from personal advantage 
and fear ; and showing again, with plenty of 
learning and humour, how human nature was 
the same a thousand years ago and now. 


It is possible, in fact, to teach political truths 
more successfully from past history than 
from present history. The history of Rome 
is finished, and each fact and tendency has 
had its influence and run its course ; and thus 
its nature is more plain than the nature of 
the same tendency and kind of fact is at the 
present time, when to explain it is to prophesy. 
Besides, this Roman history rouses little passion 
and offends few prejudices ; but every man 
and every intelligent boy is already a partisan 
as to many of the great questions of the 
present time. 

After a few more construes it was close upon 
a quarter to eleven. The boys gathered their 
books to go, so as to lose no time when 
Mr. Smith had gone from the room ; but they 
left certainly not only with a certain music 
of good prose running in their thought, and 
an increasing power to appreciate it, but also 
with certain thoughts as to Cicero, who was 
becoming a real person to them, and orators 
and barristers, and the ways of Rome, and of 
their own country, and of the relation between 
Roman and English history, which were likely 
to be very useful to them. 

" We will take as an essay for this week," 


said Mr. Smith as the clock struck, " a com- 
parison between Cicero and Mr. Gladstone.'* 
And the lesson was done, and Mr. Smith went 
down the stairs fairly happy, having fought a 
doubtful action, but to some extent victorious. 
He had bored nobody, and certainly inte- 
rested some. 


The boys all streamed out of school, and 
the masters quickly followed them. Some 
went to the common room, and those who 
were more interested in the out-door life of 
the school went to the great gravel squares 
that lay between the middle block and the 
two others. There was a knot of boys at 
the foot of the stairs reading the notices, 
which were few this morning ; the most im- 
portant being two, one of which mentioned 
the names of the team, and the other con- 
tained a statement that all games would 
cease at 2.45 in order that boys might see 
the match. 

The mention of the reason was made for the 
benefit of some 150 boys who were supposed 
to prefer the pleasures of home to those of 
the school playing-fields on a half holiday. 
There always are as large a number of these 
boys as 150 in a school of 700 boys, and 

it is proper that this should be so. Football 


is an excellent thing in a school ; and if the 
football is Rugby football, so much the better, 
because it occupies thirty boys instead of 
twenty-two, to say nothing of the touch judges ; 
and also because much of the game to beginners 
is little besides pushing and running, and boys 
without much skill can make more of this 
than they can of passing and dribbhng. An 
Association game if it is not skilfully played 
is a bad thing, and only a few boys can play 
it skilfully ; but a Rugby game not well played 
is not nearly so bad a thing. Still football 
does not exhaust the possibilities of a boy's 
life, and there always must be many in a school 
who, as far as they are personally concerned, 
only tolerate it. 

Therefore the captain of football at Dulwich, 
as at all other schools, was always of opinion 
that football was going down, and that the 
school was slack with regard to it ; he wished 
that he could do more than put up a notice 
like this to bring boys on to the ground ; and 
hoped secretly that the form captains would 
by legal or illegal means, see that their forms 
were completely represented in the ring round 
the match. The captain of football was Hyde, 
who was an excellent player, with his whole 


heart immersed in the game ; a tall boy, but 
very quick and hard. He was a three-quarter 
back, but he took to all places as a duck 
to water, and knew exactly what each boy 
should be doing under each set of circum- 
stances, wherever they might be. His love for 
football had, however, bred in him a kind of 
disrespect to all other school institutions, in- 
cluding that of lessons ; and thus from time 
to time difficulties arose for him in his school 
life, partly because he regarded every one 
from the point of view of football ability ; and 
thus had a latent feeling of contempt for many 
masters, and many excellent boys, and partly 
because he had examinations to pass, like other 
boys, in which no questions about football were 
likely to occur. 

Of those masters who taught him, he had 
least respect for a Mr. Rubeley, a little 
man who was old and slow. His subject was 
German, in which he was a good scholar ; but 
as to football, he apparently did not know 
that there was such a game. Hyde, as soon 
as the interval began, came down on to the 
gravel from the Modern Sixth form room, which 
was his form room, with his friend Carter, 
who was smaller than he, but a really good 


back. These two knew all that had happened 
in Rugby football for the last ten years, all 
that was happening in this year, and likely 
to happen in the next year ; and they both 
of them took so much the same view of life 
as to find great pleasure in each other's com- 
pany. They were both school prefects, and 
not bad boys at heart, but through the narrow 
gate of football lay the avenue into the 
hearts of both of them. Carter's conscience, 
however, was more tender than Hyde's, and 
his heart softer, but his temper quicker. If 
you did Hyde a kindness he would perhaps 
say '' thank you," but not feel grateful ; 
but if you did Carter a kindness he would 
perhaps not say '' thank you," but he 
would never forget what you had done for 

Most boys were looking at these two in the 
interval, for all their movements were of im- 
portance to the school this morning. They 
stood with Gillett, making a permanent group at 
the edge of the grass near the trees away from 
the large clusters of boys which always stood 
round the buttery door, and just out of sight 
of the Master's window. Up to them lounged 
Grant, with a biscuit, a kind of food which 


he thought it not beneath his dignity to con- 
sume in the interval. 

'' I shall go/' said Hyde. " I can see how. 
I will get my brother to send me a telegram 
saying that my uncle arrives on Monday at 
Waterloo at 4 o'clock. I will take it to the 
Old Man, and he will let me go to meet him. 
I have not seen my uncle, you know, for three 
years. I believe two is the time that Jerry 
expects you not to have seen your relatives 
for, if you go to meet them ; but I will put on 
another year to make sure. If I take this to 
him at 12.30 on Monday, I can get off directly 
after dinner. What can you do ? " he said to 
Carter. '' I wish you were my brother, or my 
cousin, and then the same wire would do for 
us both.*' 

'' I can stay away from school. I can say 
I have a headache. Johnny will let me stay, 
and I can come with you. I don't see how 
any one can spot us." 

'' What are you going to do ? " said Grant. 

*' See the 'Varsity match," said Hyde, '' on 

Grant felt rather disgusted. Here was the 
Tonbridge match to take place this afternoon, 
and the captain was not talking of it, but of 


Monday, and another match. He did not say 
this ; and presently let his thoughts run on 
another aspect of the matter. He was head 
boy, and here were two prefects going to act 
thus ; it wasn't the thing, but he didn't exactly 
know what to do. 

*' ril stop in too, if I may come," said Gillett. 

" All right," said Hyde. 

Grant walked away very much bewildered, 
and then thinking that he had not done what 
he should, he walked back to the three boys, 
and said — 

'' You ought not to do this." 

" Why not ? " said Hyde, '' we want to see 
the match." 

*' So do lots of fellows," said Grant, *' but 
they wouldn't do a thing like this to see it." 

** Like what ? " said Hyde, really wishful to 
talk about the matter and see how it would 
be viewed. 

'' TeUing a lie about it," said Grant. 

'' I shan't tell any He," said Hyde, who was 
really rather a dull boy, and almost believed 
what he said. ** I shall simply hand the wire 
to Jerry and say, ' May I go ? I haven't seen 
my uncle for three years/ Nor have I." 

" That's rot," said Grant. 


"It's not rot/* said Carter; and Gillett 
laughed easily. He was not a prefect, and he 
had no scruples, and hardly any conscience. 

'* It's what lots of fellows do every day." 

'* When ? " said Grant. 

'' When they show up work they haven't 
done," said Hyde, grinning with a kind of 

*' Prefects don't," said Grant. 

*' Yes, they do," said Carter ; '* I remember 
you doing it." 

*' When ? " said Grant. 

** When I did a sum for you a fortnight 
ago," said Carter. 

This had indeed happened at the beginning 
of the term, and came awkwardly for Grant 
into the argument. He walked away again 
feeling still more uncomfortable, and very 
angry as he heard Gillett laughing. His 
whole sense of propriety was upset. Hyde 
was older, and had in fact been a prefect 
longer than he, and so had Carter. He wished 
that he had not been a prefect, that he had 
not been captain of the school, that he had 
had no responsibility. He wished that he 
could take counsel with some one. The day 
to which he had so much looked forward was 


likely to prove the most unpleasant of his 
school life. It is often so in hfe; but Grant 
was certainly young to begin with an ex- 
perience so unpleasant. However, this was 
Saturday, and that which troubled him was 
not to happen until Monday ; but he knew 
that such a matter would remain no secret, 
and he had sense enough to understand in 
a vague way that it would upset the authority 
of the prefects, and would do mischief in 
the school. In particular he did not see 
how he could act much in harmony with 
Hyde and Carter any more. Still, again, it 
occurred to him that this was Saturday, that 
he had remonstrated, that perhaps the boys 
might change their minds before Monday ; 
and thus he returned to something of his 
happy state of mind again. 

Just then Smith the porter came up to 
Hyde and Carter and said to them, *' The 
Master wants to see you." The two boys 
looked at each other. They had a rather 
exaggerated idea of the Master's ability in 
finding out things, and certainly each of them 
felt a Httle uneasy. They went upstairs and 
knocked at the door of the Master's room. 
In the room they found was Mr. Trent, no 


particular favourite with either of the boys. 
They waited outside until he came out, each 
of them with the idea that Mr. Trent might 
have been talking to the Master about them ; 
and they expected any one who talked about 
them and their school doings presently to 
light upon some unfavourable matters. 

" So," said the Master, in a low voice, to 
Mr. Trent, as he came out, '' if you will help 
me, I will be looking out too.'* 

The boys nudged each other, and thought 
that they were to be the objects of the scrutiny ; 
but really the question was of the enlargement 
of the gymnastic apparatus at the school 

When the boys came in they were a little 
uncertain, and one of them was almost sullen. 
The Master could not quite understand the 
position ; he liked both the boys, and felt 
vexed that they held thus aloof from him. 
He said presently, after wondering for a short 
time at their attitude — 

" Can you go to meet the Tonbridge boys ? '* 

'* Yes, sir," said Hyde. 

" And have you all the arrangements made?" 

'* Yes, sir," said Hyde. 

*' Referee, game, dinner, everything ? " 


'' Yes, sir," said Hyde. 

" Well, you will do well, I know. We 
shall all be pleased with all you do ; winning 
or not winning, and think you worth keeping, 
whichever way it goes. Good luck to you 
and your side! " 

He shook hands with them both ; and 
they went away, not exactly happy, wishing 
vaguely that there was no Master in the busi- 
ness, and no rules to keep at school. 


The next lesson for the Classical Sixth form 
was taken, not by the master of the Sixth 
form, but by a younger man, Mr. James, who 
took a form quite low down in the school, 
but yet taught the Sixth twice a week. He 
gave them lectures rather than lessons, and 
lectures upon things in general ; now on a 
period of history, now on political economy, 
and now on points of language. He lectured 
on everything in fact on which questions in 
the general paper in scholarship examina- 
tions were set. He had just now been vexed 
by the talk in the world relating to the use- 
lessness of Greek, and he desired, as young 
men do, and old men too sometimes for the 
matter of that, to express his views on the 
matter. He was a good talker, and boys 
generally were interested in what he said, 
and often adopted his opinions, producing 
them afterwards in their talk or work, though 

generally with certain strange alterations. 



This morning he, a young, swarthy-faced gentle- 
man of thirty-five years of age, who wished 
the world were other than it was, and who 
could play at games pretty well, leaned his 
chin upon his hand, and looked cheerfully 
roimd the room and began his lesson. 

*' I have here a very able article with which 
I wish you acquainted. It attacks us with 
point and vigour. I am sure you will like 
it. Why teach Greek ? it says ; why learn 
it ? Greek is old, the nation belongs to the 
past, and we are of the present. The posi- 
tion is ludicrous ; boys know Greek customs 
and history who do not know their own ; 
and write Greek when they cannot write 
English. The English empire calls for de- 
fenders, and we go to work to provide them 
by teaching about another empire, and leave 
our own, its extent and dangers and powers, 
out of knowledge ; and yet these are enough 
for any brain, and offer enough matter for 
reflection for a lifetime. The world has 
gone forward since the days of the Greeks 
and Romans ; we have discovered thousands 
of things, how to manage nature, and prolong 
life and banish pain, and are on the eve 
of new discoveries, and need a populace 


educated to make them ; and yet the great 
schools of the country train those of whom 
they think best in the ways of a people that 
had no knowledge of all that has been done ; 
and the world's life is changed, but those 
who should lead the change do not lead it 
because they cannot. May I ask, Noton, 
what you think of this ? '' 

*' I think that it is a very true charge,*' 
said Noton cheerfully. 

'* So do I,'' said Mr. James. Noton's cheer- 
fulness was a little dashed, and he began 
to take his bearings a little more carefully, for 
his desire was not to agree with his masters. 

*' Let us consider the point together,'' said 
Mr. James. '* We can all contribute some- 
thing of experience in this matter. First 
what about the rather feeble rejoinder that 
the defenders of the old system make, that 
the effect on the character is good. Do you 
think it good, Martin ? " 

'* Yes," said Martin, hesitating. 

'* You find yourself obliged to say that you 
have improved under the system ? " 

'* Yes," said Martin, laughing. 

^'Well, so do I," said Mr. James, ''but 
then it is to be remembered that you might 


have improved faster under another system. 
So individuals don't count so much as the 
nature of the thing itself. Let us look at this 
education and see what it is in itself that 
Noton and the article dislikes it so much, 
and what the other education is that Noton 
likes it so much. Now you have two arms, 
Noton, haven't you ? " 

Noton wished that he could deny it, but 
he could not, he could only refuse to affirm 
it ; and Mr. James seeing that possibly he 
would say something rude on the first oppor- 
tunity, said to Martin, ** You tell me.'* 

*' Yes,*' said Martin. 

'' And a mind ? '' 

" Yes." 

*' Well, now, what sort of ' thing is your 
mind ' ? I don't mean is it good or bad, or 
what is it in itself ; but is it this kind of 
thing, namely, that it can deal with many 
subjects ? " 

" Yes." 

" Such as history and mathematics, for 

" Yes." 

'' And the part of it that deals with each is 
not quite the same ? I mean that when you 


say twice two is four, the operation is not 
the same as when you criticise Hannibal ?'* 

" No." 

'* A different part of the mind seems to 
work ? *' 

'' No/' said Noton, '' not in mine/' 

** Well, it works in a different direction ? '* 

'' Yes,'' said Martin. 

"And in the direction in which it works 
it grows ? " 

'* Yes," said Martin. 

'' And what is wanted in a mind is that it 
should move easily and quickly? " 

'' And correctly," said Noton. 

'' And correctly," said Mr. James, beaming 
upon him. 

*' Now how is it with the body? When one 
arm is lengthened and strengthened, would 
it not be better if the other were also ? Or if 
you would like to have one arm longer than 
the other, you would prefer to have your legs 
levelly made, would you not ? and not one 
leg weak or short and the other strong or 
long, say six feet long, and the other three, 
that wouldn't do?" 

'' No," said Martin, looking very depre- 
catingly at Noton. 


** Well, now/' said Mr. James, '* there is one 
point in education — that it should be level. 
Will you remember that for me, Noton, when 
we sum up at the end ? Thank you very much. 
And another point is that we should not try 
to learn a thing that we absolutely cannot 
learn ? '' 

'' No,*' said Martin. 

'* But we must not too hastily feel sure that 
we cannot learn ? '' 

'' No/' said Martin. 

** And we must learn as much as we can ? " 

'' Yes,*' said Martin. 

*' Because thus we become Godlike ? like the 
Holy Ghost ? " 

The boys were surprised and still. 

'' You don't think knowledge is goodness ? '* 

" No,'' said Noton. 

*' And yet the Holy Ghost is goodness itself, 
and He is knowledge ? " 

" Wisdom," said Noton. 

*' Yes, that is true," said Mr. James. **I 
made a mistake, and the difference is that 
knowledge may be in a single matter, but 
wisdom is general and includes all matters, 
and it is wisdom that you mean that we need 
to be like the Holy Ghost ? " 


'' Yes/' said Noton, feeling his dignity 

" And this wisdom, being Hke that of the 
Holy Ghost, you mean is not to be of the in- 
tellect only, but it is to be a knowledge of 
good and evil also ? " 

'' Yes," said Noton. 

'* I see,*' said Mr. James, *' and thus it 
brings happiness ; and only thus ? " 

" Yes,'' said Noton. 

*' I see," said Mr. James. " Well, then, about 
this and the English customs we are to learn ; 
you remember. What are they ? Do we 

" Yes," said Noton. 

*' I mean, not does the country go to war? 
but do we here fight or expect to fight ? " 

" No," said Noton. 

*' You mean that we pay others to fight for 

*' Yes," said Noton. 

*' We trade ? or learn ? " 

" Yes," said Noton. 

*' And do what we can by learning, and 
trade, to increase our incomes ? " 

" Yes," said Noton. 

*' We must live ? " 


" Yes/' 

'' And having food and raiment, must want 
more ? ** 

" Yes/' 

" Gold and silver, and fine linen ; and 
safety, in this world, and in the next ? " 

'' Yes," said Noton. 

'* These are our principles of life ? " 

*' Yes," said Noton. 

" I see," said Mr. James. '' And those 
help us to act on these who enable us to get 
them, who provide them cheaply for us, and 
enable us to travel sixty miles where once we 
travelled one, and in so short a time, with a 
smell, and a dust, and a jerking, and every- 
body getting out of our way ? " 

" Yes," said Noton. 

'' But we shall make a hoot on a horn to 
tell them to get out, shall we ? or not ? " 

*' Perhaps," said Noton. 

" And thus we shall live good Biblical 
lives ? " 

" Yes," said Noton. 

'* Well, now, you see," said Mr. James, turn- 
ing to the form, '' these are our principles of 
life, and we profess to get them from the 
Bible. Now do you see that they will not do, 


and do you see that something more is needed 
in order to put Hfe right ? Something even 
more, in a way, than the Bible ; namely, 
the right spirit of reading it. Because all 
these principles are selfish altogether ; and 
yet they are those from which men are in- 
clined to act now, and say that they are from 
the Bible. And not only now does the ac- 
ceptance of the Bible fail to prevent mistakes. 
Three hundred years ago the most fanatical 
of the Puritans said that they were leading 
lives simply founded on the Bible : and they 
said this rightly ; but their lives were founded' 
not on the whole of it, but only on parts, 
and they read the rest by the Hght of pre- 
conceived feeling which prevented them from 
profiting by it. 

'' Let me say a word about the Bible, the 
Holy Scriptures. They were written by men 
who were under the guidance of a Power 
under which many Englishmen who now read 
them are not, a Power personally not of know- 
ledge so much as of wisdom, of perfect know- 
ledge ; they consequently had that in their 
hearts which many Englishmen who read 
what they wrote have not, and so read them 
with little profit. I will say presently what 


I think that this is. Those who wrote the 
Holy Scriptures were friends of God ; many 
of those who read them now are friends of 
themselves, and with this preconceived feel- 
ing read what is written even to their own 
hurt, influenced only by the sayings which 
please them, sajdngs which induce them to 
try to obtain from religion primarily a feel- 
ing of safety, and thus never knowing what 
true religion is ; and they are positive that 
they are right, because of the source of the 
texts which influence them, and thus they 
are in the worst possible position — they make 
God teach them error. They commit some- 
thing like the sin against the Holy Ghost, 
with infinite damage to their own natures. 

" This is the fault which Noton and I and 
Martin seem to find with the position ; and 
it is not exactly that which is mentioned in 
this very able article, which Noton thought 
to be a just charge against some of the public 
schools, and perhaps not to be without a 
shell to split in our midst here, else, perhaps, 
Noton would not have written those verses 
against the writers whom we read here, and put 
them in last week's ' AUeynian.' It was a sense 
of duty that impelled him to do this, or perhaps 


it was only irony after all — to praise by over 
blaming — and double irony, to use Greek 
methods to vindicate Greeks by over blaming 

Noton sat inwardly resolving to be even 
with Mr. James somehow, even descending 
to the depth of planning to kick his shins 
at the Association game which Mr. James 
still played at times. Mr. James, only half 
conscious of his doom, went on — 

" Now what is it that I said is really wanted 
when people read the Bible ? Something that 

Noton said " but here observing a really 

dangerous expression in Noton's face, he knew 
that it was better to drop Noton out of the 
rest of the discourse. 

'' It's beastly unfair,'' said Noton afterwards, 
'* for that little beast Jimmy to rot me in a 
form ; and I can't answer him ! " 

" I know that," said Minet, who thought 
very highly of Mr. James. 

" I mean I can't, because he won't let me," 
said Noton angrily. 

" Oh yes, he will," said Minet. 

'* No, he won't," said Noton. ** He'd report 
me to Jerry if I said what I meant, and called 
him a fool." 


" Perhaps he would," said Minet. '* But 
that isn't it/' 

*' Well, don't you come fooling me here," 
said Noton. 

But all this was after school. "And now," 
Mr. James went on, looking at Noton no more, 
*' what is wanted is a certain spirit, that 
spirit of which we spoke at the beginning : 
the spirit of moderation, of nothing too much. 
The remedy for the English trouble is to be 
found in the last place in which people of 
the present day seem inclined to look for it, 
namely, among the Greeks. To those who 
think themselves religious, who are religious 
in the way described above, religious in hold- 
ing what they think is correct belief, who, 
however, only want safety from their religion, 
the Greeks are pagan ; only not dangerous 
because they are uninfluential. To those who 
are called irreligious because they think for 
themselves and use the reason which many 
men think that they must obey because it is 
the highest thing they have, the Greeks are 
simply logomachists, and thus trivial and 
futile. But for all these misconceptions, 
perhaps only possible among the self-satisiied 
British people, it is among the Greeks that 


the remedy for our mischiefs may be found. 
It is by a knowledge of the methods which 
the Greeks taught to the world — which con- 
tains very dull and unwilling pupils — that the 
right way to read the Bible is to be found. 

*' For among the Greeks were teachers who 
taught men to approach the problem of life 
in a very different way from that in which 
the British commonly approach it now, with- 
out the preconception that wealth brings 
happiness, and that a man gains happiness 
by pursuing it according to his uneducated 
nature, that pleasure and safety are primary 
goods, under all circumstances to be received 
in as large quantities as possible. These are 
foolish thoughts which only appeal to the half 
educated, and only have influence in Great 
Britain because many of the British are con- 
tented to be half educated or educated only 
that they may carry on trade successfully. 
Among the Greeks were men who approached 
the problem thus : they looked not at the 
world and its enjoyments, trying to get as 
much of them as they could, professing all 
the while for an hour or two in each week a 
contempt for them, and sa3dng that their 
great Book taught them to behave themselves 


thus — they looked on man himself and his 
nature, and carefully analysed it ; they noticed 
in what parts of it he was akin to plants and 
beasts, and what part of it he had as man ; 
they wished to have it all developed in full 
in all its parts, but in fulness according to 
measure and proportion, not without measure 
and proportion, each part retaining that posi- 
tion of priority and superiority which was 
indicated by its position in the grades and 
scale of life, vegetable, bestial, and human. 

'' They found that the qualities of man as 
man were those that enabled him to live fully 
and healthily and in company with other 
men — purity, courage, patience, kindness, intel- 
ligence — to these they therefore assigned 
authority, not destroying the others, and not 
foolishly mistrusting intelligence because they 
feared for certain prejudices of their own if in- 
telligence were allowed its way, but balancing 
it by a due development of all other qualities 
along with it. They recognised that they 
saw these great qualities, the hope and the 
salvation of the world, in the world in a finite 
state ; but they saw in the more and the less 
in which they were then seen, a suggestion 
that they might be magnified to infinity and 


to perfection, and that in the far distance, 
a distance beyond the thought of man, they 
might be united. They beheved that they 
were united in one great Being, where mercy 
was justice, and knowledge was power, and 
power was love, and all was perfect majesty 
and perfect beauty. It is one who has thought 
thus on life that may be trusted to read the 
Bible, though truly in the Bible is the purest 
religious thought in the world ; yet, as it is 
not every one who can feed his body rightly — 
indeed very few can manage to eat and drink 
what suits them — so it is not every one that 
can feed his soul rightly ; in fact, very few 
can manage to read rightly and think thoughts 
that are good. But among the Greeks are 
those who will show men how to read and 
how to think, if very humbly and thankfully 
men will allow them. To these is granted 
the vision of God as He is, not simply as a 
God of knowledge, and one kind of knowledge 
not simply as the Saviour of men*s souls, 
but as He really is, a universal God ; these 
only can love God truly and praise Him truly, 
not only as the Saviour of men*s souls — if 
this is all, He is never duly loved or praised — 
but as a Being of perfect power, love and 


knowledge, each part of whose attributes 
must be apprehended by man, who saves 
men's Hves if He will, or destroys them if 
He will ; but either the one or the other 
rightly, and whether one or the other, man 
has no right to care, and no great wish to 
care. Such a man trusts God without any 
reservation, never even thinking, ' Will God 
bring me to Heaven ? * 

** This forgetfulness of self is necessary, as 
all men really know, to every noble character ; 
it was fostered in Greece by the circumstances 
of the State, according to which each man 
was of necessity his city's servant, and upon 
whom continually the State made such demands 
that he could not forget his position. In the 
good days of Greece there was no abstention 
from public service, no advancement of the 
conduct of business or the enjoyment of wealth 
to the exclusion of civic and military duty ; 
so that each Greek stood nearer than men 
know now how to stand, to the happiest posi- 
tion, that is, to the manliest position on earth, 
namely, that of loyal obedience to the best 
known commands ; not for the sake of that 
which could be obtained by them, as indeed 
many a man yields his service now, only be- 


cause he expects to be paid for it ; yielding 
service to God to obtain prosperity in this 
world and security in the next, and service to 
men to obtain money from them afterwards ; 
or paying taxes to the State to obtain security 
in the enjoyment of wealth, counting himself 
thus a most respectable citizen. But a Greek 
yielded his service because he admired and 
loved that to which he was a servant, and 
was in a measure identical with it, and 
honoured its commands because they were 
worthy of honour. And that they were worthy 
of honour he knew because he was a man, and 
capable of understanding that which was good ; 
capable of subordinating the poorer part of his 
own nature to the higher part ; capable of 
seeing a light shining in darkness, and knowing 
that it was a light ; capable, in other words, 
of possessing faith and exercising it. 

*' And, indeed, as to knowledge, how shall a 
man reach great discoveries ; how shall he 
discover the fourth dimension of which men 
talk, and alter the condition of existence ? 
Men talk and write now as though this were 
to be done by the microscope and the tele- 
scope. What can these do ? How do they 
affect human life ? They do not necessarily 


affect it so as to better it, because nothing 
can improve it excepting a movement towards 
goodness — triple goodness, goodness in power, 
love, and knowledge, each in equal proportion. 
The noblest thing in the world is man, and 
the world will be saved by developing the 
noblest part of the noblest thing in it, the 
manliness of man. Sanitation, great produc- 
tion, great power of locomotion, do not neces- 
sarily benefit man ; they may even greatly 
harm him, because they make it more difficult 
for him to be unselfish, that is, to obey the 
highest law within him. A return to the old 
ideal is the necessary thing, to the ideal 
realised in theory and in fact also by the 
Greeks, the ideal of self-sacrifice and triple 
equalised development. An orderly move- 
ment in this direction, for it is really one, is 
the movement which will regenerate the world, 
and make the whole Bible understood ; not 
the movement which simply calls for a practi- 
cal modem education. The movement towards 
unselfishness takes a man out of himself ; and 
it is the true movement for the world, because 
it is the true movement towards God, the 
movement which recognises Him not as a 
Judge only or a merciful Personage only, but 


as a Being who either has no self or is all 
self, no body, no parts, no passions ; who is 
in fact His works, who lives in them and for 
them by His own great position, compelled 
by His own almightiness to do as He does. 
Why then should any one scrutinise too 
anxiously this or that part of the Bible ? why 
should one look too earnestly to this or that 
part of the narration in the Gospels ? If it 
was right for God to do as He is represented 
in the Bible to have done, then He did so, 
however imperfectly the facts may have been 
recorded, at however long a time after their 
occurrence, and by whatever scribe. If it was 
not right, then God did not so, whatever may 
be written and whosoever wrote it. 

'' Here really is the fourth dimension, that 
which is in fact the removal of all other three 
dimensions, the removal of measure altogether, 
the absolute, the infinitive withdrawal from 
self towards real life ; a withdrawal at present 
apparently as impossible as a leap to another 
planet, or a disappearance into invisibility. 
Here is the renewal of human power, the 
purification of human conscience, the triumph 
or nature over circumstances and over death ; 
but it is just this that the operation of science, 


as we have it now, is thwarting ; and just this 
that views of reUgion which multiply formalities 
and present talismans to man are paralysing. 

'* It is not only speculation which shows that 
this is a true view of things ; history shows it 
too. All that is good in the world has been 
done by men who act under the influence of 
this spirit ; as soon as they begin to revolt 
from it, their work loses it value — the states- 
man who works for glory, the musician who 
thinks of himself, the speaker who pauses in 
the thought about what he is saying to think 
how he is saying it, becomes at once a mere 
vulgar person ; the conqueror becomes simply 
a wrecker in the world. However rich such 
men are, they are lost ; the greater their 
success, the greater their infamy. Men do not 
deal rightly with God ; they pray to Him 
to help them to succeed, all the more thus in 
their prayers remembering themselves ; they 
praise Him when they have been successful, 
all the more thus in their praises remembering 
themselves. They should pray to Him and 
praise Him because He is what He is, because 
they can to some extent, if they are willing, 
lose theniselves, to find themselves in Him. 

'* Now,'' went on Mr. James, '' please make 


a note on what I have said. It will come 
under these heads: First, What dangers to 
the country, and to individual life, do there 
seem to be in modem ways of regarding life ? 
Secondly, What antidote to this may be found 
in Greek history and literature ? Or, since you 
will not have time to make a note upon both 
properly, do the first now, and make me an 
essay on the second for next time.'' 

The boys settled to their notes, and Mr. 
James settled into a condition of wondering 
whether he really had said anything which 
would do the boys good or not. 


Meanwhile school was proceeding in various 
ways in the different form rooms and class 
rooms, and each form and class was re- 
ceiving as much good as it cared to absorb, 
and in many cases much more. Each lesson, 
like every man's life, is a kind of drama ; and 
the interest of it consists in the variety of 
relations which throughout it occur between 
the master, the boys, and their work. In 
the higher forms as a rule the interest lies 
in the main in the advance of the boys under 
the direction of their master into the under- 
standing of some author or some set of circum- 
stances. But though this interest is not 
absent in lower parts of the school, yet it is 
often tempered by others. For instance, take 
the lesson this morning in the lower Fourth 
Engineers, and see the disappointment, un- 
suspected by every one, and unconnected with 
the proper development of instruction, which 

it brought to poor Kaffvn. 


Kaffyn was a boy who had never been very 
industrious ; he loved not his work for its 
own sake, that is, he never loved more than 
one-third of it, and the other two-thirds he 
treated as boys will treat that which they 
dislike. He was a nice boy, nevertheless, and 
for very good nature was inclined to do that 
which people wished him to do. His father 
did not pay much attention to his son's pro- 
gress, being himself much occupied with busi- 
ness ; but at last he remembered that the 
boy was fifteen years of age, and had not more 
than two more years to spend at school, and 
that if he did not learn more quickly than he 
was learning, would not be fit to take a good 
place in the world. Mr. Kaffyn was not able 
to give any prolonged attention to his son's 
work, and he was accustomed to buy what 
he wanted ; and thus he simply promised 
his son a horse, if he were not kept in until 
the end of the term. Kaffyn went so far as 
to kiss his father for the promise, and both 
because he wished to please him, and also 
secondly because of the horse, he determined 
to do his work very well, both until the end 
of the term and afterwards. The first thing 
to be done was to collect his books. He pre- 


vailed upon himself to ask Tomkyns and 
Jacob for the chemistry and the algebra that 
belonged to him, which they had been using 
and smudging throughout the term ; and 
with a strange feeling in his heart he made a 
journey through the school, to find as many 
as he could of his other books. He knew the 
places where they were most likely to be, 
because he had himself often when he needed 
a book gone to these places, and not in vain, 
to find one. He visited the shelves behind 
the desks in the lower hall, and the organ 
loft, and many a dark corner, and recovered 
a certain quantity of his property, enough to 
make a kind of bridge over the gulf that lay 
between him and good work, though several 
planks were still missing. Among those which 
he found was one which he had not greatly 
missed, namely a history book, and on Friday 
night, like a good boy, he carefully learnt his 
history lesson ; learnt it — not on the gravel 
shivering, not on the stairs waiting, not walk- 
ing, not trying to combine learning with talk- 
ing as he moved to school in company with 
his friend, the owner of the book which he was 
using — learnt it in no precarious uneasy way, 
but luxuriously, with plenty of time, seated 


and satisfied he had learned his lesson, and 
went to say it on this Saturday morning, 
rather missing, it may be, the interest of un- 
certainty, and rather embarrassed, as people 
are with a novelty, by his sense of knowledge. 

Seated in front of his master, Mr. Harris, 
there he was with his companions, when Mr. 
Harris at eleven o'clock called upon the top 
boy for the book, and told the boys to get 
ready to do their slip. 

Now what the lesson was had been written 
on the blackboard by Mr. Harris at two o'clock 
in the lower Fourth Engineers form room ; 
but at three o'clock a master, who did not 
know what he was doing, had rubbed out the 
writing and written a sum in its place. Thus 
at four o'clock when the Fourth Engineers 
came in to see what their night work in his- 
tory was, there was no writing to tell them. 
They had been led to expect that the place 
and quantity of their lesson would appear on 
the board, and not finding it there, they were 
at first astonished, and then inclined to be 
joyful, for one. Green, propounded the theory 
that they might take it that there was there- 
fore no lesson for them to learn ; that Mr. 
Harris, or old Solomon, as Green called him, 


had — ^perhaps from motives of pity, perhaps 
from forgetfulness — omitted to set one. If 
the former was the case, which the sager and 
steadier boys doubted. Green argued that they 
ought not to balk him ; if the latter, then 
Solomon should not complain if his careless- 
ness came down upon his own head. There 
were some boys who suggested that it would 
be well to go to Mr. Harris' rooms, for he 
lived in the block, and ask what really was 
the position as viewed by him. But Green, 
who was a boy powerful in argument as well 
as in football, discountenanced this plan. He 
said that it was a mere accident that Mr. 
Harris lived so near, that the matter should 
be treated on principle, and that one rule 
applied to all masters wherever they lived; 
that boys could not be expected to go to a 
master's rooms, if he lived a mile away, and 
that therefore abstract justice demanded that 
the boys should simply accept the situation 
and go away. 

Now Kaffyn had himself already gone away 
at four o'clock, knowing what the lesson was, 
because he had taken down at two o'clock 
what was written about it ; but by the other 
boys the course recommended by Green was 


ultimately adopted, with readiness by five 
boys, with misgivings more or less acute by 
about sixteen, and with annoyance by about 
six, who would really have preferred to learr 
the lesson and say it. 

On the following morning then at eleven 
o'clock, from Mr. Harris* point of view the 
lesson was about to begin, but from the point 
of view to be presented to him by Green there 
was no lesson to begin. Mr. Harris said to 
Smith, who was at the head of the form, 
'* Bring me up the book, and tell me what 
the lesson is." 

Smith rose, and moved uneasily to the desk, 
with his eyes looking towards the ground. 
The eyes of the form turned from him to 
Green, who rose in his place, and said, 
'' Please, sir." 

" Sit down, Green," said Mr. Harris. 

" Please, sir," said Green. 

'' Sit down," said Mr. Harris ; and it was 
necessary for Green to sit down, at all events 
for a while. '* What is the lesson, Smith ? " 

Smith hesitated and blushed, and said, 
'' Please, sir, you didn't set any." 

'' Yes, I did," said Mr. Harris. " I wrote 
it on the board at two o'clock." 


'' It wasn't there, sir, when we came at four/' 
said Smith. 

** No, sir." *' No, sir,'' said many boys, and 
among them Green. 

'' Well," said Mr. Harris, '* that is very 
awkward." The boys felt relieved. " But 
what have you learned ? " 

** Nothing, sir," said Smith speaking doggedly, 
partly because he thought his position unfair, 
and partly because he was in fact saying some- 
thing which was not true. 

*' Nothing ! " said Mr. Harris, looking sur- 
prised and then angry. 

*' He thought " said Green, rising. 

*' Sit down," said Mr. Harris, and Green sat 
down, feeling now that Mr. Harris was decidedly 
unjust, because he would not hear the other 
side, which every one knows should always be 

*' Why didn't you go straight on ? " said 
Mr. Harris. 

'* You, sir, told us you would set us a lesson 
in another part," said many boys readily. 

'' So I did," said Mr. Harris, '' but I told 
you I meant to set the Commonwealth. Did 
you learn that ? " 

There was no answer, but presently one boy, 


who had not taken Green's view as fully as 
Green thought proper, said, '' There are two 
places where the Commonwealth begins, sir/* 

Mr. Harris looked at the book and said, '* I 
don't think that you need have been misled 
by that. The beginning is really plain enough ; 
and did any of you come to my rooms to ask 
me ? But I know that you did not, because I 
was there/' 

Now was the time for Green to deliver the 
argument which he had elaborated, taking in 
fact more time about it than it would have 
taken him to learn the lesson. 

** Please, sir,*' he began, again rising in his 
seat, feeling that much depended on him. 

*' Sit down. Green,*' said Mr. Harris. 

'* But, sir,*' said Green. 

'' No," said Mr. Harris. " If there is any- 
thing to say, let the top boy say it." 

Green sat down in great indignation. The 
view of history presented by their history book 
was adverse to King Charles, and represented 
Vyva in a favourable light ; and it occurred 
to Green, who had a mind apt at allusion, 
that he himself was like Pym, and that Mr. 
Harris, like Charles, deserved execution. But 
since he was a strong Conservative, and also 


on principle differed from the history book, 
he at once drove this idea from him and 
contented himself with generally rebellious 
feelings, while the form looked on in dismay, 
because the top boy was the miserable Smith, 
who could not argue with anybody, and was 
more than suspected of collusion with the 

Then Mr. Harris said, '' I see how this is. 
Is there any one who has learnt a lesson ? " 

Now Kaffyn had learnt his lesson, and had 
a good reason for saying so — for his father 
was a business man without much sentiment, 
and also Kaffyn really desired to please him — 
but he felt it right to remain silent, and not 
separate himself from his company. And 
Smith and four others had learnt a lesson, 
but they had a good reason for not saying so, 
for Green was looking at them with an eye 
full of prophecy. So no one made any sign. 
Poor Mr. Harris was much to be pitied : he 
was in a position in which he felt it necessary 
to become awry with the boys, though he 
had expected with pleasure a pleasant lesson ; 
and he said, '' You will learn the lesson now, 
and come and say it after 4.15 on Monday. 
The work which you do now will be instead 


of the work which you should have done last 
night, and the lesson itself will be on Monday 
from 4.15 to 5.15/' 

He then relapsed into silence, and the boys 
turned sullenly to their books. 

" What could I have done ? " said Mr. 
Harris to himself as the horrible hour dragged 
on. " Nothing. And when will these boys be 
as they were ? Probably at 4.45 on Monday, 
when I suddenly let them all go." 

And " What a confounded nuisance ! " said 
Kaffyn to himself, as he pretended to scan 
the words already quite familiar to him. 

In other rooms work was going on in various 
ways, in some well, in some badly, according, 
as it appeared superficially, to many incalcul- 
able circumstances, but in reality governed by 
one factor almost entirely. 

Perhaps the least satisfactory lesson was 
taught in that classroom where poor old Mr. 
Rubeley took a German class. In this room 
were both Carter and Hyde, and Gillett with 
them, who in their present mood were not a 
pleasant addition to any master's company. 
Carter and Hyde were prefects, and their 
position restrained them from allowing their 
conduct to be bad enough to report ; but 


it was known well enough in the classroom 
that they were pleased rather than vexed if 
there was any lack of discipHne. This was 
very hard upon poor old Rubeley ; he was 
very unwilling to complain of anybody, and 
he had his own ideas about the duties of a 
master, and his power to control boys. Once 
this power had been his, when his step was 
firmer and his voice clearer ; but now he 
shuffled rather than walked, and all that was 
left of his voice was hesitating. 

It seemed strange to him, and he hardly 
realised that things were as they were, for 
once — though he never spoke of the past, being 
a very modest man — once he had been actually 
the best half-back in the Association game in 
all wide England, and had played for England 
in the international matches for one year. 
Want of money had prevented him from play- 
ing longer, and he had quite dropped out of 
football and the thoughts of those who had 
played it for many a year. He was not a 
University man, and wore no gown, and so 
naturally seemed less able to teach than his 
colleagues. In the thirty years that had 
passed since he played his football, his limbs, 
once so quick and accurate, had become 


trembling ; his eye once so clear, and so good 
a judge of space, could hardly see to the end 
of the form room. 

Once, a year ago, he had seen some little 
boys in the upper Third forms playing the 
dribbling game in a small game behind the 
music rooms ; and after standing and watch- 
ing them for a few minutes, he had called to 
the best player of them, and said to him, 
** Johnson, would you like to know the secret 
of learning to dribble ? " 

If he had asked Johnson whether he would 
like to know how to shoot tigers, Johnson 
could hardly have been more astonished. But 
he said, with a hopeless feeling of contempt, 
'' Yes, sir.'' 

''Well, then,'' said Mr. Rubeley, ''it is 
this : go quicker and not more slowly as 
you near a man, and do not wind about, but 
go straight." 

" Yes, sir," said the boy, and went back to 
his companions, and so full was he of what he 
thought was a good joke, that he could not 
wait until Mr. Rubeley was out of sight before 
he collected the players about him and told 
it to them. Poor old Rubeley heard them all 
laugh, and his football recollections all shrunk 


back into him again. Continually, as boys 
did not behave well in his classes, he feared 
that it was time for him to give up teaching ; 
but he did not like to acknowledge this to 
himself ; it seemed as though, if he gave it 
up, his life would go also. Thus he kept on ; 
but he had a bad time of it, only hoping by 
care and kindness to manage each term better 
than the last. 

But little improvement came ; sometimes 
he found himself teaching a good-hearted set 
of boys, who listened to him and learnt from 
him the good lessons which he had to teach, 
but more often the boys, in most cases from 
thoughtlessness more than anything else, were 
very hard upon him. Very often the sweat 
would break out upon his forehead in his 
trouble, and as he wiped it away with his 
handkerchief the boys would wink to each 
other, for Rubeley was, as they said, '' Having 
a rounder." And once a week, at least, on 
the wall outside his door they drew a picture 
of this operation taking place, which, as long 
as it was allowed by the porter to remain 
there, much pleased the various classes that 
came up to these rooms to be taught. 

The tradition to annoy him, or to '' rag 

^\>' or THf A 

or . / 


him," as it was called, grew rather than 
diminished, and often before he descended his 
stairs it was necessary for him to wipe away, 
not perspiration only, but tears, when the boys 
had gone and he was left alone in his room. 
The class which he took this morning he took 
with much dislike, because he understood the 
position of affairs with regard to the influence 
of the prefects in it ; and on this morning in 
particular he feared some trouble, because it 
was the day of the match, and the football 
captain would, Mr. Rubeley feared, feel more 
than usual his own importance and that of 
football, and the boys would follow him in 
their thoughts. And so indeed it was. German 
was the subject of the lesson. But it seemed 
not possible to introduce it, for the boys were 
determined to talk not of German but of 

*' If you please, sir," said Gillett, almost as 
soon as he had seated himself, '* what is the 
German for football ? " 

Poor Mr. Rubeley hesitated, and then Hyde 
said in a very polite manner, '' I expect 
Mr. Rubeley does not know what a foot- 
ball is." 

'' A football, sir," said Gillett, '' is an oblong 


piece of leather tightly distended by an India 
rubber balloon, I may call it, which is laced 
inside it/' 

*' And,'' said Merr3rweather, '' it is blown up 
thus for the purpose of being kicked about the 
field, by two sides." 

Different boys followed, volunteering different 
statements of different rules, and at last Gillett 
rose up and said, *' Perhaps, sir, you would like 
us to show you how the game is played." At 
this two or three boys rose in their places, and 
having crumpled up two or three sheets of 
paper together, made as if they would actually 
play in the room. There was a considerable 
tumult, above which Mr. Rubeley's weak voice 
could not make itself heard. But Hyde, who 
was afraid that things were going too far, and 
wished also to establish a good character for 
himself, called out loudly above the noise, 
*' Be quiet." The boys were all quiet directly. 
And Hyde said, '' If Mr. Rubeley does not 
know what football is, it is perhaps his mis- 
fortune more than his fault. Perhaps, when 
he was young, football was not played much." 
It cannot be said that Hyde was quite a 
nice boy ; but he had in fact allowed himself 
to forget that he owed any duty even of 


courtesy to Mr. Rubeley. The lesson then 
proceeded in quiet, Mr. Rubeley saying very 
little, and the boys went rather guiltily away, 
feeling uncertain as to what would happen 
to them. Some of them feared that they would 
be reported, and thus not see the match ; and 
some of them had that sense of dissatisfac- 
tion which most boys have when discipline 
at school is not maintained. Mr. Rubeley 
stopped a little longer than usual in his room 
this morning when the boys had gone away ; 
and wrote a letter which he had no difficulty 
in wording, for indeed he had often during 
the term half framed it in his mind. It ran 
as follows : 

**Dear Master, — I am very sorry that I 
know I ought to resign my position here, be- 
cause I cannot control the boys properly. I 
am very much obliged to you, my dear Master, 
for the kindness with which you have always 
treated me, and I am, yours very truly, 

^'E. C. Rubeley.*' 

He went downstairs thoughtfully and quietly, 
and put the letter in the box in the hall. So 
that the first act of the tragedy in his life might 


be considered to be over. The world for him 
was hkely to be different from a stage, in this 
point : that plays of ordinary life generally end 
well, but in his life, which was ordinary enough, 
paniful things were likely to come more and 
more thickly until the end of it. 


At one o'clock the schoolrooms, so quiet before, 
became full of stir ; the gravel and the paths, 
so empty before, became crowded with boys. 
From all forms and all kinds of work they came. 
From the junior schoolrooms, and from the 
drill Serjeant's care, under which they had been 
taught to poise their bodies and hold them as 
is best for their health and comeliness, the 
junior boys poured, with slightly more demon- 
stration than their seniors. From the drawing 
rooms boys came, where they had learned to 
observe things accurately, and to represent 
what they had observed, and, it may be, had 
received into their souls ideas of gracefulness 
and beauty, of the reception of which they had 
hardly been conscious ; from the mathematical 
rooms, where they had insinuated their minds 
into all the intricacies of shape and calcula- 
tion ; from the chemistry rooms, where they 
had heard their lecture, and they had gone to 
their experiments, and watched carefully the 



operations of Nature, while things generally 
separated by her were placed together, opera- 
tions which they would presently describe in 
note-books, with drawings of the apparatus 
which they had used. Most of the substances 
of the earth came before them, each in its 
order, and they learnt the nature of each, 
learnt and wondered, filled with interest and 
enthusiasm. And from the physical rooms, 
where they had been learning the laws under 
which light and heat and electricity work in 
the world, and the characteristics of material 
of many kinds, what strain it would bear, under 
what conditions it rested and under what it 
moved, measuring and weighing, boiling and 
cooling, pulling and recording, a busy and a 
steady set of workers, hot with that fever, 
most wholesome and most pleasant, the fever 
to know ; and from the biology rooms, where 
they had been examining the conditions of life, 
in animals and in plants, with knife and micro- 
scope, again altering and watching and drawing 
and recording. 

Happy boys, and they knew that they were 
happy, to whom some of the secrets of nature 
were being unfolded, who passed from one 
piece of knowledge to another, gathering facts 


into systems, and illustrating systems by facts ; 
learning the meaning of that which they saw 
taking place piecemeal under their eyes every 
moment as they lived. Many fancies of the 
poets faded for them, no doubt. The ever- 
lasting hills, the personality of the pale cold 
moon, or the bridegroom sun, these became 
only trivialities to them, the nymphs left the 
streams, and the wind had no tongue to tell 
a tale to them. For the poetry of the new 
learning has not yet come — a wider, bigger, 
broader poetry than that which we know now, 
spreading its allusions beyond the mere fancies 
of man. But these boys learnt something of 
the truth, and truth reached by reasoning 
labour ; and great is the truth. Happy were 
they in making this great friend their own ; 
and they knew of their happiness ; and if a 
stranger entered their room, they marked their 
work still, and not the stranger. And happier 
still were they, if with all their knowledge they 
remembered its limits, and knew where they 
really were in regard to the great hierarchy 
of the sciences. 

And from the language rooms the boys came, 
where the principles of speech had been un- 
folded to them, with all the principles of thought 


on which they depend, and all that the great 
thinkers among mankind have said upon the 
morals and the politics of their fellows, and the 
relation of man to God. Wonderful places, 
indeed, are all schools now. Wonderful is the 
wealth of opportunities they give, compared 
with that which they gave fifty years ago ; 
the one has become the many, and the many 
is suited to every kind of mind, and with 
thought and care each master suits himself 
and his subject to the minds of those who 
learn with him. 

Wonderful indeed are schools, but not per- 
fect yet, nor will the perfecting of them come 
by the multiplication of examinations. If 
there are examinations, teachers will teach for 
them ; and a teacher who teaches for examina- 
tions is in danger of becoming like a man who 
works simply for money, from out of whose 
work much of that which is really valuable dis- 
appears. And the boy who learns for examina- 
tions is seldom educated. Most of that which 
is really valuable goes out of his work also. At 
present, too, with the multiplication of examiners 
comes another danger — the danger that men 
will be exalted into the position of examiners 
who are not fit to hold it. Men of 'fads, men 


merely mechanical, men of insufficient know- 
ledge, men who love power, men who love to 
say cutting things, men without instinct, men 
without industry or conscience. Perhaps the 
hardest of all things is to examine well, and 
proportion to the difficulty of examining well 
is the difficulty of getting good men to do it. 

Out of school and into the hall and to their 
homes and houses the boys trooped for dinner, 
each one making for his fellow, that boy or 
those boys, whose friendship will make one of 
the great joys of his life. And poor Attwater 
went to watch for Hyde and Carter. 

Hyde and Carter were too busy with the 
coming game, and with the Tonbridge boys, 
to have much time to speak to Attwater ; 
nevertheless he made some little opportunity 
for this pleasure. He liked to be seen with 
these two boys, they were boys of influence 
in the school, and were boys of the kind of 
whom Attwater was afraid. They cared very 
little for masters or for rules, and Attwater 
secretly cared a great deal ; their lessons to 
them were a secondary concern, and to Attwater 
his lessons were a primary concern. He was 
very much afraid of being considered by them 
weak-minded, and a prig, and he affected in 


their company the tone of a man of the world 
without much regard for law and order, and 
willing to break every rule of the school. He 
.went up to the group of Tonbridge boys with 
^hom they were standing after lunch at about 
fci quarter past two, and began to talk of the 
University match. 

" This football,'* he said, *' seems tame after 
'Varsity football/' 

" Have you seen much ? " said the Tonbridge 
boy to whom he spoke. '* I haven't, excepting 
when a College team came down to play us." 

'' I saw some when I went up to Oxford last 
week, and I hope to see some next week." 

'' When ? " said the boy. 

*' The 'Varsity match," said Attwater, *' we 
mean to go." 

" Will you be allowed ? " said the boy, '' will 
you get leave ? " 

" I don't think we shall ask," said Attwater, 
looking at Hyde, a little uncertainly, as he 
fancied that Hyde did not like the subject. 

'* How shall you manage ? " said the Ton- 
bridge boy. 

'' I expect I shall be unwell," said Attwater 
with a laugh. 

The Tonbridge boy did not seem to be much 


impressed, and looked, as Attwater looked, at 

Hyde said, '' I dare say we shall go, but I 
don't exactly know how. I want to see the 

"I should Hke to,'' said the Tonbridge 
captain. *' I've got a brother playing ; but 
of course I can't." 

Hyde seemed desirous to drop the subject ; 
but one of the groups of smaller boys standing 
admiringly around heard the dialogue, and 
went away spreading this piece of news among 
others more closely connected with the after- 
noon. So interesting did it seem that the boys 
Hstened to it, and heard that Attwater and 
Hyde and some others meant to see the Univer- 
sity match ; and that Attwater meant to sham 
being ill in order to get away. 

" Attwater is a beastly fool," said Kaffyn, 
who had recovered his interest in things at 
one o'clock, " and if he comes talking to me, 
as he did yesterday, I shall tell him so. I hate 
a prefect who talks like that ; he has no busi- 
ness to be a prefect or to be here." 

" Hyde is going, they say," said another 

" Hyde can play at football," said Kaffyn, 


" and Attwater can't. I don't believe Hyde 
is going/' he added, after a pause. 

'' Yes, he is," said ElHs; '' I heard him teU 
Grant so in the interval to-day, and I don't 
think Grant liked it." 

'' What did he say ? " asked Kaffyn. 

'' It was him and Carter talking, and Hyde 
said he was going to get a telegram and go on 
the strength of it ; and Carter was going to be 
out of school and go." 

" I don't believe he will go," said Kaffyn, 
" and anyway Attwater is a beast. He goes 
bragging about and doing everything he thinks 
will please Hyde." 

'' I shouldn't think it would please Hyde to 
have Attwater come," said Ellis. '' I wouldn't 
go with Attwater anywhere even if he wanted 
me to. He's such an ass." 

'' What did Grant say ? " asked Kaffyn. 

*' He didn't say anything. But afterwards 
he didn't speak a word about the match or 
say anything. He just stood still for a minute 
without speaking and then he walked off. And 
the Old Man looked out of the window and 
sent for Hyde and Carter, as if he had heard 

"I wish he had," said Kaffyn. "It's a 


beastly thing to do, I think. That's Gunter, 
their three-quarter back ; and that's Tremayne, 
the half-back. I expect Grant will settle him ; 
but Gunter got two tries against Bedford." 

And so on went the conversation, until pre- 
sently, as three o'clock came near, the boys all 
collected in a ring round the field, and the 
referee appeared, and looked at its bearings, 
and the great ring was formed two or three 
deep and more in many places all round the 
football ground. 


Mr. James was one of the gentlest mannered 
men, and a keen lover of football too, that is 
of school football. He was a strong patriot, 
and since the struggles of the year in the out- 
door life of the school were those in which 
it was matched against another school in 
cricket or football, these match days caused 
in him the most intense interest. About 
five minutes before the game began he usually 
took his place at a comer of the ground, and 
there he was wont to stay, saying nothing, 
hardly ever applauding ; but when a good 
piece of play was done by one of the Dulwich 
side he smiled, and tightened his lips, and 
his face reddened. He did not care to talk 
to any one during the course of the match, 
excepting perhaps one or two of the masters 
who quite understood him, and one or two 
of the boys ; but as a rule he said never a 
word. He had played both cricket and foot- 
ball in his day of twenty years ago, and knew 
the points of both games. 


On this day at 2.55 he appeared at the 
comer of the field, ready to look at the game, 
but with a feeling that the excitement of 
looking at it would be too great to be pleasant. 
For the ten years during which he had been 
at Dulwich it had been his habit to stand here, 
and his interest had grown with each year, 
as he identified his happiness more and more 
completely with the happiness of the school. 
But he had not taken his place for two minutes 
before something happened which made him 
uneasy. He had good eyes for such occur- 
rences, because they made him miserable. 
He saw a young man detaching himself from 
the crowd about thirty yards away, and 
moving with what Mr. James felt to be a 
threatening step in his direction. If this 
was not the object of his movement, thought 
Mr. James, why should he move at all ? Why 
stir from his excellent place ? Mr. James 
glared at the field, but with the side of his 
eyes he could see the movement still going 
on, becoming more threatening with every 
step. Mr. James still glared upon the field, 
and began to take the precautionary measure 
of stirring a little from his position, so that 
he might not be absolutely caught and fixed 
in one spot. A quarter of a minute more 


and he was aware that the young man was 

Mr. James had often said that the least 
pretence is deceit, and the least deceit is 
objectionable. But was he not now pretend- 
ing that he did not see this young man ? The 
young man Hfted his hat ; Mr. James feigned 
to observe the field only. Mr. James had 
sunk very low. He must, according to his 
theories, pay a penalty, either a smaller one 
now, or a greater one hereafter. The young 
man formed up in front of him, and Mr. James 
must see him and shake his hand, not know- 
ing who he is, with a horrible certainty that 
his tongue was long, else he would not have 
acted as he was acting. 

'' You do not remember me ? " he says. 

''I do not, I am ashamed to say,'' says 
Mr. James. ** Who is it ? " 

*' Planter," says the young man. 

'' Oh, Planter ! " says Mr. James, very 
guiltily, remembering Planter, a senior boy at 
Ingleton school eleven years ago ; perhaps 
not a bad boy, as a boy, but how very in- 
opportune was his arrival ! Planter no doubt 
lived miles away ; this was not a visit of 
two minutes or of ten, it was a serious matter. 
Planter, no doubt, knew no one on the ground ; 


no doubt he had come to see Mr. James ; no 
doubt he would stay to tea. Mr. James felt 
utterly dismayed. 

'' I hoped I should find you here/* said 
Planter pleasantly. '' I went to your rooms, 
they told me you were here.'* 

" How often/* thought Mr. James, *' have 
I told the servants not to do this, at least 
hinted it to them ; for they are so clumsy 
that if I told them too strongly they would 
be offensive, and make me seem so ; and 
anything almost is better than that.'* 

'* Yes/' said he, really genially if the posi- 
tion be properly considered ; so genially at 
all events that Planter thought the welcome 

*' I thought you would have little to do on 
a half holiday afternoon," went on Planter. 

'' Yes,*' said Mr. James again. 

" So I came." 

'' Yes," said Mr. James. 

''Shall I," thought Mr. James, ''ask him 
to tea now, and he will go away till then ? 
But of course he will come to tea in any case. 
Shall I tell him to go away, and come again 
in an hour ? But I shall not be happy with 
him operating on me from a distance all 
through the match ; and of course he won't 


want really to see the match at all. I wonder 
if he would like to see the pictures. If he 
would only like that, it would do." 
. He said, '' You have been to Dulwich before ? '' 

'' No," said Planter. 

''It is rather abrupt," thought Mr. James, 
*' but it must be done in some way, for the 
teams are nearly on the ground." 

Then he said aloud, '' Most people come 
some time, to see the pictures. Would you 
like to ? " 

He stopped short, feeling that he would be 
bound to take Planter himself to see the 
pictures, as things stood. But Planter didn't 
care for pictures. He had come simply to 
have a talk with Mr. James. 

'' How very annojdng," thought Mr. James. 

'* And," said Planter, " since you have 
nothing to do, you may as well talk to me 
here out in the open air." 

''Oh yes," said Mr. James ruefully, as the 
teams were stripping. " And how are you 
getting on ? " 

"Oh, very well," said Planter. " Fm in 
the Town Council of my town, and I'm 
Chairman of the School Board. You always 
inculcated in me that it was right to perform 
civic duties, and so I became a candidate for 


the Council and was elected, and am now, 
in fact. Mayor — the youngest Mayor in the 
kingdom but one/' 

*' Yes, indeed,'' said Mr. James, '' how very 
nice." As the boys took their places. '' And 
who is the youngest ? and how old are you ? 
and Mrs. — ah ! — Mayor " 

The ball was kicked off, and the most in- 
teresting — but it is of no use to write of the 
interest in connection with poor Mr. James, 
for he couldn't enjoy it. 

Planter looked rather surprised at Mr. James' 
incoherency, but he was not easily put out. 
'* Oh yes," he said, " I am, in fact, married." 

*' Indeed," said Mr. James, '' how nice, and 
have you any — Mayors — I mean children ? " 

" Oh yes," said Planter, '* and I wanted to 
ask you about them. The eldest boy has just 
recovered from the measles." 

*' Oh dear ! " said Mr. James. 

'' But he is not really well yet ; would you 
press him in his work ? " 

'' No, I think not," said Mr. James, 

'* What would you put him to work at ? " 
said Planter. 

'' Oh, almost anything," said Mr. James, 
*' that's wholesome. You'll come to tea, and 
we can talk about it." 


'* Yes/' said Planter, *' but I am afraid I 
must go at 4.30. He is a nice boy." 

** No doubt/' said Mr. James heartily, strain- 
ing his eyes to see what was happening in the 
far comer of the field. 

'* But not strong/' 

'' No doubt," said Mr. James. 

'' But quite quick. I don't say it because 
I am his father, but every one who sees him 
says so. He can read Caesar now." 

'* Dear me ! " said Mr. James. 

** That's very good for a boy of nine," said 

'' Oh, very good," said Mr. James ; not 
really knowing what it was that was good, 
but making up for his ignorance by mechanical 

The case of the boy, the first-bom Planter, 
occupied the next quarter of an hour ; and 
then it appeared that Planter had written a 
book. " Planter ! " thought Mr. James roused 
by the monstrosity of the thing into semi- 
consciousness of what Planter was saying. It 
was so. Planter ! a book designed to place 
the local government of England in its proper 
place in relation to all other governments, from 
the government of the spheres to that of the 
young Planters. The work was a long one, and 


began with a sketch of authority in general, 
in regard to those who exercise it and those 
upon whom it is exercised. Planter, in a voice 
rendered husky by an hour's continuous use, had 
reached the end temporarily of an analysis of 
this prologue, and was pausing for Mr. James' 
comments upon it when the clock struck 4.15 
and the end of the match came, and Mr. James, 
feehng hke a discharged battery, took Planter 
down to the station. 

*' Fve had a most pleasant afternoon," 
said he. 

'' Fm very glad of that,*' said Mr. James ; 
" and that is one good thing certainly.'' 

'* I'll come again some half holiday ; I dare- 
say I shall always find you on the ground or 
somewhere about." 

** Yes, yes," said Mr. James thoughtfully, 
but of what he was thinking Planter did not 
guess. Planter never even as a boy knew 
what any one thought of him, and as a man 
he went further in the direction of ignorance, 
and always knew wrongly. 

But though poor Mr. James hardly saw the 
match owing to Planter, yet it had gone on 
from beginning to end to the huge joy of most 
of the rest of the spectators. 


It is an anxious as well as a proud moment 
for the team when it goes out stripped, and 
wearing, each boy his highest colours, to play 
a great school football match. Into the sixty- 
five minutes that follow are to be crammed 
as abundant a measure of struggle as in any 
sixty-five minutes of ordinary life. The boys 
in hundreds, with many spectators' besides, 
stand around the whole space, each one full 
of strong sympathy, all of them wishful for 
one side or the other to win, eager, unable to 
spare a thought to anything else on earth. 
Their talk is all of what is to come, of specula- 
tion, and news with regard to either team, 
the state of the ground, the toss, the wind, 
and many other circumstances. The ring is 
round the field composed almost entirely of 
sympathisers with the home team, but there is 
in one part of the ground a knot of supporters 
of the other. They have come, some fifty in 
number — boys now belonging to the other 


school, or old boys once belonging to it — to 
see the game, and to cheer their own side. 

The clock strikes three. The teams walk 
from the paviHon to the corner of the field, 
to the great delight of all who see them going 
and know that the game is about to begin, 
and away from the field the boys in the extra 
lesson hear the strokes of the clock and fancy 
to themselves what is being done, and wish 
that what is were otherwise. They look at 
the master taking them, with a little feeling 
of bitterness, identifying him with the system 
which has brought them there ; and he thinks 
of them with a Httle feeling of bitterness, 
thinking, ** If these boys had not been, one 
' very idle ' another ' impertinent ' and so on, 
I might have seen what they and I both want 
to see." 

Outside every one sees, the boys run from 
the buttery, the last dressers run from the 
bath block and the pavilion ; the College 
servants appear at the windows, and there is 
a round of applause as the Tonbridge team 
steps away from the hutch where they have 
left their coats and mufflers and honour caps, 
a group of fifteen lithe, free-stepping boys, 
in red and white jerseys, and red and white 


stripes to their dark blue knickerbockers, and 
red and white stockings. They are carefully 
and even reverently scanned, and every one 
looks eagerly and speaks little. In half a 
minute or less there is a louder round of 
applause, and a cheer from almost the whole 
ring, as the Dulwich boys step out from the 
trees, and over the ropes and into the ground, 
dressed in the familiar black and blue, the 
sight of which is dear to every Dulwich boy. 

The players range themselves, and it is seen 
that we are to kick up hill at first ; the ball 
lies yellow in the centre of the ground, Carter 
lifts his hand, the opposing captain lifts his 
hand in answer, and Carter advances to the 
ball — and kicks. From all the field there 
rises a shout, and the game has begun. The 
ball is caught by the three-quarter back, and 
he runs — good gracious, how he runs ! who 
can stop him ? He is round the forwards and 
nearly out in the open beyond them, when 
Grant hurls himself upon him, 9 stone 10 to 
12 stone, and down he comes. What a cheer 
rose from all the ground ! The people in the 
road echoed it ; those in the train standing 
in the station heard it, and wished they had 
seen what caused it. And those in the extra 


lesson heard it, and thought, " Was it a try ? " 
Presently from the scrimmage, the two half- 
backs. Grant, and James, the boy whose 
digestion had not been quite satisfactory that 
morning, instead of passing to the three- 
quarters, whom the others were watching, 
seeing an opening advanced with a pretty 
piece of passing, and actually between them 
slipped in before the backs had well taken 
their eyes from Hyde, whom they had been 
taught to dread. 

The delight of the field and the team was 
frantic. The bigger boys shouted, and the 
smaller ones screamed really almost mad with 
joy ; then they stopped their shouting, and 
watched while James lay down and Hyde came 
forward to take the kick. There was a moment 
of suspense and silence, though the boys saw 
the ball fly straight towards the posts, until 
the whistles sounded ; and then again and 
again the cheering rose, and little boys could 
be seen jigging with delight ; and some, turn- 
ing, slapped their friends on the back, and then 
jigged again. 

Ten minutes play, and a goal already ! The 
field was set again ; and now the Tonbridge 
boys kicked off ; and then again that long- 


legged runner, who moved like a greyhound, 
was away with the ball ; one pass to his half- 
back and away again, with the ball returned 
to him, away round the scrimmage, and up 
towards the upper corner of the field ; he 
passed the knot of Tonbridge boys on his 
way, and they cheered him well I promise 
you, and louder and louder their shouts 
sounded discordantly to Dulwich ears, as he 
rounded the whole field, and dodged the back 
and grounded the ball, but up in the very 
corner of the field. The kick was too hard 
for a goal and the game stood 5 to 3. 

But Hyde changed his field, and set a boy, 
clever, quick, and plucky, to watch this player, 
and charged him to see that whatever happened 
he came not through again. And well did the 
boy, who was our good friend Coggan, do as 
he was told. His absence was felt in the pack, 
and he himself longed greatly to be there ; 
but he did not even move a step towards it, 
but, independent of all formation, in due 
relation to the scrimmage and the Tonbridge 
player, he moved, his eye upon both, his 
teeth set, and even his hand clenched, as he 
thought of what he had to do. The Tonbridge 
three-quarter back felt himself marked, and 


knew that he should not have such another 
run again as that which he had just had. He 
looked at the other's limbs and watched his 
springy movements, and knew that he could 
run ; but so could he himself, and he felt 
fresh and sound, and longed for the chance 
which would show whether his pace or the 
other's was the better. Three times he thought 
he had it ; but each time Grant or James, 
whose play was splendid, flung themselves 
beyond the scrimmage and spoiled the pass ; 
but at last, the fourth time, it came again, 
and a hum of apprehension went round the 
field as it was seen that again he had the ball, 
and without a moment's pause he started at 
a great speed, with another three - quarter 
racing close behind him, to make his run. 
The forwards paused, the Tonbridge forwards 
stood nearly still, it was their rest now ; they 
knew the three-quarters' play, and it never 
failed. They stood a moment and watched 
with rising joy, while the Dulwich forwards 
watched also uneasily, moving sideways back, 
trouble written on their faces. The passing 
began and the Dulwich tacklers seemed no- 
where. Grant missed his cast, and save for 
a long stagger Hyde was passed. " Where is 


Coggan ? " thought he. There he is, and 
Hyde half smiled to see him in the place to 
which he had crossed at a scamper, and stood, 
hands out, bent and ready, in the direct line 
along which the two three-quarters must go. 
And near him stood the back, more easy in his 
mind because thus supported. 

'* Now ! " screamed Hyde : and now at the 
Tonbridge boy sprang Coggan ; not ran, but 
sprang, and hurled himself like a projectile 
low upon him, and down he came ! Coggan 
had missed the ball, but it fell forward. The 
back could have taken it, though the other 
Tonbridge three-quarter was close upon him ; 
but the whistle blew, and the danger was 
finished in this way, and each boy breathed 
more freely. 

It was now half-time, and the thirty boys 
threw themselves on the ground to rest. Each 
boy felt glad to rest ; for both forwards and 
outsides had done their duty well ; the forwards 
on each side none the less for the fact that 
their work had not been showy. In five 
minutes the whistles were blown, and they 
stood up again, ready and eager with the end 
now in sight, each boy determined to play 
until there was no more play left in him. 


No need for the weaker to husband any 
strength ; in point of time it was thirty minutes 
now before them, not sixty ; and at the end 
of the thirty each boy had but to Hve, and 
trust to the future to bring him back to his 
old power of strength and movement ; and 
meanwhile he must play, play with his head 
and his body and his legs, play with all his 
might. And play he did ; each forward hold- 
ing up the scrimmage until it seemed a mass 
of stone and not of living boys, each outside 
watching and seizing and tackling and running 
like a deer. 

Grant and James were good beyond all the 
rest, making no mistake, working like one 
machine and not two boys, and feeding the 
three-quarters in a faultless way ; and Coggan 
was wary and watchful and played with his 
head, scheming in the most strategic manner, 
so that the line was not again fairly broken ; 
and the Tonbridge boys on their side each did 
their duty, like upright- manful football players. 

Then upon the field, to the joy of the Dulwich 
boys, at last the quarter past four chime 
sounded ; the whistles were blown long and 
loud. '' No side,*' was called, and in an 
instant the whole ring was broken, each boy 


running with all his might to the clump of 
trees, and standing there and making a lane 
for the players to pass. All the boys cheered 
themselves hoarse as the players came. Again 
and again they roared their joy, and then 
seizing — each group a player — they bore him 
shoulder high to the buttery and laid him 
down again to comfort his thirsty soul. Then 
having cheered the Tonbridge boys, the crowd 
dispersed to talk about the match and say 
that never had a better match been played ; 
and so indeed said the referee. He had seen 
some hundred matches, but none played more 
sternly from the start to the finish, without 
hitch or snivel or shirking or complaint. 


After the match there was the dinner in Hall, 
pleasant to the Dulwich team, which played 
the generous host very well, praising the play 
of their opponents. Indeed it is easy for a 
winning side to give this praise ; and pleasant 
for a losing side to receive it. Each member 
of the Dulwich team felt himself drawn more 
closely to the other members of it, as is always 
the case between men or boys when they have 
in company done their duty. Hyde had been 
proud of his team, with which he had taken 
much pains ; and he and Carter were both de- 
lighted with the play of Grant and James and 
Coggan. After dinner followed the walk to 
the station with the Tonbridge boys, and the 
set off ; and then as the boys walked back 
from the station, Hyde said to Grant and 
James, '' You two fellows can get your colours.'' 
The three boys were walking together, and 
with them were also Carter and Gillett, who 

had his colours already and had played well 

1 06 


in the scrimmage on that day. Grant was 
silent for a moment, and then he said to Hyde, 
taking James by the arm, '' Will you and 
Carter just come here a minute ? '' 

The four left Gillett on the path, and drew 
away into the roadway, where also Coggan 
was walking with the other prefect in his house. 
Grant said, his heart beating rather fast, and 
with a slight tremor in his voice at first but 
very steadily afterwards, ** Hyde, I will not 
take any colours from you, unless you give 
up your plan for Monday." 

*' What do you mean ? " said Hyde, while 
Carter felt both angry and ashamed. 

'* I mean this,'* said Grant, quite steadily 
now. '' You are going to do on Monday, and 
so is Carter, what a prefect ought not to do, 
and what will upset the prefects* authority. 
I can't stop you ; but if you do it, I won't 
consider you a prefect or captain, or have any- 
thing in any way to do with you.'* 

" It's no business of yours," said Hyde, in a 
dangerous kind of way. 

'* Yes, it is," said Grant ; *' I'm a prefect and 
captain of the school, though now I don't wish 
to be, and I won't have the school upset, and 
mischief done like this, if I can help it." 


'' You can't help it/' said Hyde. 
'' I know that," said Grant, " but I can d( 
as I said, and I will ; I won't take my colour: 
from you, or treat you as a prefect in an^ 
way, if you do it. You shall have no patrol."^ 
" So much the better," said Hyde. 
" You oughtn't to say so," said Grant, " anc 
I won't play under you in the team, now thai 
the school matches are done, nor will Coggar 
nor James, and I shall write to Seymour and 
tell him what I have done and why, if he 
brings the team of old boys." 

Hyde hesitated. He expected Carter to speak 
in fury, but Carter did not ; Hyde wondered 
why. He did not himself know what to say. 
There were many good points about the boy, 
only they were overlaid by his overpowering 
love of football, which made him forget many 
things which he knew quite well. On that 
afternoon he had felt his heart warm towards 
his own team, and his own school football, 
which the praise of the referee had greatly 
exalted in his heart. Moreover he liked Grant 
personally and wished to be friendly with him ; 
he felt that Gillett, with whom he was going 
and who was in a measure directing him in 
this matter without his own knowledge, was 


not so fine a fellow as Grant ; he was a little 
nervous also about the result of the whole 
matter if he were found out, as it was always 
possible he should be. And lastly and chiefly 
he knew that Grant was in the right. He 
seemed to understand, as Grant spoke, what 
was the proper thing for a prefect to do, and 
how mischievous it was if he did not do it. • If 
Carter had spoken angrily and supported the 
design which he had once had in his mind, 
Hyde might have felt bound to support it too. 
But Carter was silent. Hyde had no power 
to read character, and he did not understand 
Carter's silence ; but in fact Carter felt as 
Hyde did, that they had been in the wrong, 
though his feeling was more personal, and 
depended much upon the affection he felt for 
certain masters who had been very kind to 
him when he had been very ill a term or two 
ago, and towards whom he felt that, if he 
did this thing, he would be a kind of traitor. 

Thus while the two boys faced the three 
boys who were all in some trepidation for the 
future, but steady in their resolve, there was 
silence, and then Hyde looked at Carter ; and 
then he said, turning to Grant, '' All right, I 
will not go.'* 


" Nor I," said Carter. 

'' That's all right/* said Grant, '* and thank 
you for my colours.'* 

Attwater came up behind, and walked with 
them. He said to Carter, '' The referee buttered 
your play awfully ; he said you must have seen 
a lot of good football.** 

Now Carter had not seen any football ex- 
cepting at Dulwich, and all he knew about 
the game had been taught by Mr. Knight, 
who lay behind Hyde as the coach of the 
team. '' We shall see some more on Monday,** 
said Attwater, for he had that afternoon settled 
it with his conscience and with Hyde to go on 

** Tm not going,** said Hyde shortly, '^ so 
you can go alone,'* he added rather grimly, 
for he understood how the matter lay with 

The boys all went on together, turning their 
backs on Attwater, whose way lay in the other 
direction, and no one said '' good-night ** to 

He slowly and sorrowfully went to his home 
to meditate for twenty-four hours upon the 
changes that occur in the relations of men in 
this world. 


The day at Dulwich was nearly finished ; the 
darkness had long settled on the deserted 
playing fields ; the clump of trees, the bath 
block, the pavilion, where boys had swarmed 
like bees in the afternoon, were nothing now 
but shapes rising darkly into the air, and the 
grass seemed now only a sheet of lighter colour 
spread over the whole face of the ground. The 
stars were looking down upon the blocks, 
which were now as still as they ; and the 
school, with the silence and solitude that 
reigned throughout it, seemed in some degree 
akin to them. The Spirit of the school — of 
learning and science, of poetry and hope, of 
energy and generosity — quickened by the stir 
of the day, and deriving her life from it, and 
from that of many a thousand of days that 
had preceded, now rested in the darkness, 
none the less a reality now, not dull and 
inert, but making her presence felt as much 
as in the day, or all the more, because the 


stir was passed, and stillness had succeeded 
to it. 

She seemed to gather herself together in 
the darkness, musing and reckoning ; sad for 
some things, but glad it may be for most things 
that had passed within her domain that day. 
Sad for all tempers, all selfishness and mean- 
ness shown, for each deed of unkindness done, 
for each bungling act, whereby what was 
bad had been made worse, and what was good 
had been made less powerful. Sad for each 
piece of work slackly done, each misrepre- 
sented fact, each ill-tempered speech, each 
mutinous thought ; and glad for every honest 
effort, every temptation pushed aside, every 
noble thought appreciated, every secret of 
nature unveiled ; glad of the dawn of know- 
ledge in each brain, and glad of all the merry 
and gallant life which as long as it is un- 
poisoned by mischief, the mischief of rioting, 
and the mischief of bad thoughts, makes a 
school the pleasantest place on earth. Here 
there is less pushing aside of the weak, less 
scheming for gain, less hardness and impeni- 
tence, more forgiveness, more free happiness, 
more willingness to obey than elsewhere in 
the world. What man is there who would 


spoil this fair life ? bringing grief into the 
face of our Lady, who is the creature and 
the creator of our good spirit. Who is it that 
spoils it ? He who speaks of masters to boys 
as he ought not to speak of them, unfairly 
criticising or deriding them. He who speaks 
to boys roughly or in any way as he ought 
not to speak to them, stirring in them thoughts 
of disobedience and of mischief. 

These thoughts passed through the mind of 
Mr. James as he sat in his room waiting for 
his evening pupils ; looking out rather sorrow- 
fully over the school site. One of his faults 
as a master was that he expected too much 
personal regard from his pupils, and felt too 
much disappointed if he did not get what he 
expected. The school was to him in the place 
of many interests, and he felt so much per- 
sonal pleasure in doing his best for his pupils, 
that he was never happy unless some four or 
five of them, or two or three of them, were on 
terms of absolute intimacy with him, preferring 
his company to that of others. Obviously 
this was not wise of him ; some of the wisest 
among his colleagues told him so sometimes, 
and, when he from time to time found him- 
self disappointed as to the amount of pleasure 



which particular boys had in his company, 
he acknowledged to himself, though not to 
his colleagues, that they were right. To them 
he only replied by the general assertion, which 
is true enough, that most masters, as well as 
he, simply liked their pupils according to the 
amount of influence which they had over them ; 
otherwise they only tolerated them, having a 
feeling towards them which took away much 
pleasure from school life. 

*' It is a question of degree, my dear boy,'* 
said Mr. Harris to him — old father Harris, 
as his colleagues called him from his ways 
of almost maternal urgency with them — 
others called him Haristides, from his many 
virtues and their dislike of them. '' A question 
of degree ; and you overdo it. Now here you 
are waiting for Coggan, and you will be quite 
unhappy if the poor boy doesn't come ; and 
how can he be expected to come and take an 
interest in mere Latin prose, after playing a 
hard game at football. You ought to have 
let him off ; and if you didn't, he ought to let 
himself off, and not come." 

Mr. James rather winced at these remarks, 
and felt that he understood the unpopularity 
of Mr. Harris with those of his colleagues who 


did not know him well enough to call him 
names to his face. 

*' I wish you would get out," he said to 
Mr. Harris, '* I don't want any of your surplus 
knowledge ; go and give it to Cousins down 
below ; perhaps he'll be the better for it. Go 
and explain to him why his boys made such 
a row when they came in and went out this 
morning that mine were scandalised. And tell 
him not to make jokes ; and explain to him 
the cadences of merriment, so that he may 
know when boys are laughing with him and 
when they are laughing at him. That will be 
plenty for you to do this evening ; and do get 
out now ; you know nothing about anything ; 
and here is poor Coggan, as you call him, 
coming joyfully upstairs." 

Mr. Harris retired ; and Mr. James felt 
himself really happier as Coggan gave a good 
proof of his faithfulness by coming for his 
prose and essay on this evening. 

*' Are you very tired ? " he said. 

" No, sir," said Coggan. 

*' Well, come and sit down, and let us see 
what the prose is like." 

The prose was satisfactory. That is, it was 
grammatical ; but easy in its movement and 


idiomatic it was not. '' Why should it be ? *' 
said Coggan, when these defects, which he 
could not see but was obliged to take on faith, 
had been pointed out to him. 

'*.What is the good of writing good prose, 
eh ? '' said Mr. James. *' Well, no one ever 
told me when I was young, and I can't re- 
member that I ever wanted to know ; but I 
believe boys are different now, and want to 
know the reason for everything." 

*' Yes, sir,'' said Coggan, but very nicely. 

" Well," said Mr. James, throwing himself 
back in his armchair and having Coggan by 
his side and the prose resting between them, 
Coggan just at such a distance from him that 
he could reach him at certain points of his 
disquisition, " doing Latin prose, or almost 
anything else for the matter of that, is not 
an end in itself. Happiness of a certain kind 
is the only end in itself, and doing a good 
piece of prose doesn't make you happy ? " 

" Yes, it does, sir," said Coggan, after a 
moment's thought. 

'* No, it doesn't," said Mr. James; '' you feel 
happy because you have done your duty, or 
because you will be commended, or because 
the thing is done, or because that something 


is gained for the sake of which you do it. And 
you want to know what it is. Isn't that it ? " 

He leaned forward and gave Coggan's coat 
collar a shake, when Coggan did not at once 
answer. The fact was Coggan did not know 
whether that was it or not, and he would not 
answer until he did. Mr. James showed a 
fault as a teacher by going on before Coggan 
was satisfied ; Mr. James was always incon- 
siderate in this way ; the reason was perhaps 
partly that he was afraid as it were of being 
** taken down,'' of giving anything definite to 
anybody which he might afterwards be called 
upon to explain, and which could be quoted 
as his. Thus the fault sprang from self-con- 
sciousness, the fault of all others against which 
naturally therefore he declaimed most to his 
pupils, all unconscious that it was his. 

'* Well, what that something is, seems to be 
this, though perhaps when you know what it 
is you won't like to have it, for there are 
places where it becomes an improper posses- 
sion. First you must remember that that 
composition is in a dead language something 
like what conversation is in a living language, 
and makes you know the language and appre- 
ciate what you read. Now when you read with 


this appreciation, you become to some extent 
another, and not yourself ; and when you read 
Latin well, you become to that extent a Roman, 
as understanding Roman ways and thoughts. 
And when you work at Latin prose, you are 
working so as to be able to do this. 

" Now this power of becoming another is not 
exactly valuable in every relation of life. For 
instance, my dear Coggan, I earnestly believe 
that you would not have been able to play so 
well to-day, and catch hold of that long-legged 
Tonbridgian, if you had been able, readily and 
without your weekly visits to this abode of 
mine, to do good prose. For the power of 
putting yourself in the position of another is 
not useful in actual tackling. A person should 
not do this when he tackles, but, regardless 
of the feelings and wishes of another, which 
he will instinctively regard if he knows them 
thoroughly, he should, I believe, make for his 
legs and pull him over, and roll on him and 
squeeze him and the ball, and assert his self in 
a most emphatic manner. But in other cases, 
not of struggle, and perhaps the best cases 
are cases not of struggle, excepting against mis- 
chief, the power to understand the view and 
thought of another is valuable, because it lies 


at the root of all docility, and consequently 
of all real progress of every kind. It may seem 
slavish to you to abandon your own point of 
view. But when that which you take is that 
of a virile people like the Romans, you gain in 
virility what you seem to lose by suppleness. 
And when you work to improve your vocabu- 
lary, you improve your memory ; and when 
you work to get rhythm, you improve your 
ear, and music is the same in all languages. 

" Besides this you have probably also a 
shadowy feeling that it is good for you to be 
taught and disciplined ; and also another that 
you would like to please your father and mother 
by winning a scholarship ; and also please the 
people here, and Mr. James. And I believe 
that these are mainly the reasons for my teach- 
ing you prose, and for your liking to do it. 
And all this illustrates in a way what Charles 
the Fifth or some one else said, that when he 
had learnt another language, he felt that he 
had received another soul. And you may re- 
member this, if they ever want you to explain 
the saying in a general paper at Oxford. 
Though don't understand me to say that I 
want you to have another soul, for with the 
one which you have I am satisfied ; but there 


is no great harm in developing it, I believe/' 
Mr. James stopped, observing symptoms of 
great sleepiness in his auditor. '' Another 
two minutes and you would have -slept,'* he 
said. '* I stopped in time. Perhaps another 
evening you will not ask me what is the good 
of anything, after playing a match. Go you to 
bed and sleep ; good-night, my dear Coggan.'' 

And so the last lesson was given, and soon 
the most wakeful eye among the Dulwich boys 
closed for this day ; and it ended well and 
happily, as all days will end, if people do 
what is right on them. Mr. James himself 
lay back in his chair when Coggan left him 
and his thoughts shaped the following prayer, 
and then he got up and went to bed : — 

" O Thou great Being, who in all ages hast 
shown Thyself to those who look for Thee ; 
to some in fear, because they are timid for 
themselves, and know also what wickedness 
is ; and to some in hope, because they know 
something of what goodness is, and believe 
that Thou wilt not leave them comfortless ; 
and to some in love, because they are conscious 
in themselves that though they fall, yet they 
try to rise, conscious that their higher nature 
develops in some degree, that they are in 


the main reaching after purity and courage 
and patience and kindness and knowledge, 
and that none of these things can be afraid, 
and therefore in some degree they, having 
them, may cast out fear of Thee, and that in 
those who move forward at all there must be 
hope of moving further forward still, and 
therefore they have a just hope that their 
natures will improve, and thus they will 
become always more akin to Thee, — 

*' O Thou great Being, whom those who 
fear, and those who love themselves too much 
limit by their fears and self-love, and say, 
* lo ! Thou art there,' or ' lo ! Thou art 
here,' in this ordinance, or this precinct, or 
this council, or this company ; O Thou who 
art beyond any precinct or any ordinance or any 
council or any company, and yet art closer to 
man than any of these, because Thou art that 
to which his heart approaches when it is best, — 

** O Thou who gatherest into Thyself every 
good thought, pure thought, kind thought, 
brave thought, patient thought, every thought 
of knowledge humbly known, that men think 
throughout the wide world, and encouragest 
them, and whisperest peace to them when the 
world is against them and they cannot do as 


they would or as they could, and wamest them 
when the world is on their side, — 

** O God, look down upon our company 
here, and help us to make the effort to reach 
what is better, more worthy of Thy great 
Being, more pleasing, more akin to Thy nature ; 
and for me, grant that I may not forget Thee, 
but see Thee when I teach and when I rest ; 
and may the thought of courage^ purity, 
patience, kindness, and the reverence for 
knowledge leave me never. 

** This is my prayer to Thee, and this prayer 
I make because Thou art brave and pure and 
patient and kind and knowest all things. 
Thou art these, because these are good, and 
Thou art good. And One there has been in 
this world who also has been all these, all of 
them as Thou art all of them ; so far the 
record of His life and death makes me believe. 
He being as He is, is a token to me that Thou 
art near me to help me ; and may I learn to live 
without other tokens too much as my helpers, 
for where two are one, no tokens have a place ; 
and tokens cannot really make two to be one ; 
and he who rests in tokens rests in his own 
place, and moves not, or moves not freely 
towards another.'* 


Hyde and Carter were never glad but once 
that they did as they did that night, and that 
once was always. They were glad throughout 
the Sunday, and more glad still on Monday, 
when the school gave honour to them, which 
they could receive with a whole heart ; and 
when the prefect's lesson came, and the Master 
spoke about the team at the prefect's lesson, 
and praised it for its skill and courage, and 
particularly praised Hyde for his conduct of 
it ; and most glad at the end of the term 
when they went to the masters to say good- 
bye, and went from each with a feeling that 
allowed them to accept what each one said 
to them, that they had done good service to 
the school, and that the school was grateful 
to them and proud of them. They felt that 
there was no record behind which might come 
to light and they be ashamed ; and if there 
were one boy in the school whom they liked 

and respected more than another, it was 


Grant ; and next after him James and Coggan ; 
and such as Grant was and such as James and 
Coggan, and indeed such as Hyde and Carter, 
at least at their best, so may every boy be 
who leaves the great school of Dulwich. 


Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson <&• Co. 
Edinburgh dr» London 




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