The Gentleman Cadet

Drayson Alfred W. Alfred Wilks

The Gentleman Cadet / His Career and Adventures at the Royal Military Academy Woolwich

Preface

The following pages contain a history of the life of a Woolwich Cadet as it was about thirty years ago. The hero of the tale is taken through the then usual routine of a cram-school at Woolwich, and from thence passed into the Royal Military Academy. The reformation that has taken place – both in the preparatory schools and also at the Academy – may be judged of by those who read this book and are acquainted with existing conditions. The habits and life of a Cadet of the present day are well known, but the singular laws and regulations – written and unwritten – in former times may not be so generally understood; and, as memory of the past fades away, the following pages have been penned, to give a history of the singular life and manners of the old Cadet. The work has no other pretensions than to give this history, and to afford amusement to the young aspirant for military glory.

Southsea, September, 1874.

Chapter One

My Home Life

On the borders of the New Forest, in Hampshire, stands an old-fashioned thatch-roofed family-house, surrounded by cedars and firs, with a clean-shaved, prim-looking lawn opposite the drawing-room windows, from which a magnificent view was visible of the forest itself and the Southampton waters beyond. In that house I was born; and there I passed the first fourteen years of my existence in a manner that must be briefly recorded, in order to make the reader acquainted with my state of education previous to a somewhat eventful career in a more busy scene.

My father had been intended for the Church, but having at Cambridge taken a dislike to holy orders, and finding himself left, by the death of my grandfather, sole possessor of a sum of about thirty thousand pounds invested in Consols, he decided to live an easy life, and enjoy himself, instead of taking up any profession – an error that caused him to be what may be called “a mistake” all his life, and which was the cause of much suffering to me.

Having devoted some eight or ten years to travelling and seeing the world, my father married, and selected for his wife the youngest of seven daughters of a very worthy but very poor clergyman in Wiltshire, who bore him two daughters and myself; after which she sickened and died at the early age of twenty-six.

In order to have some one to whom he could entrust the care of his three children, my father took into his house his eldest sister, who was some fifteen years his senior, and to whom was given the sole charge of myself and my two sisters. Aunt Emma, as we used to term her, was my abhorrence; she had a singular facility of making herself disagreeable, especially with us young people. That she used to teach us our letters and our reading and writing was certainly kind on her part – at least, so she assured me – but she had a way of teaching that was not one at all suitable to gaining the esteem or affection of a child. Her principal object in teaching seemed to be to impress on us children that we were the most stupid, dull, and lazy children in the world, whom it was little short of martyrdom to try to teach; whilst we were informed that she, as a child and as a schoolgirl, had always been famous for quickness in learning, attention to her studies, and love to her schoolmistress.

We were also being daily impressed with the idea that we were awfully wicked and selfish, and quite unworthy of any kindness from her or our father, whilst we were also accused of having a bad motive for everything we did.

Aunt Emma was a great expert in slapping. Often have I lain in bed and cried for hours at the remembrance of the unmerited and severe slaps that my poor little delicate sister had received during the day from Aunt Emma. There was, I feel glad to say, no real anger in those feelings, but a sense of utter misery and regret that Aunt Emma should feel so little for the unhappiness she caused, and for the injustice of which she was guilty. I was a child then, and I had yet to learn that there are people in the world who take a delight in making others unhappy, who attribute to all, except themselves, bad, selfish, or spiteful motives for every word and act, and to whom the world is an enemy on which they are justified in renting their spleen.

It may seem to the reader out of place to speak thus of Aunt Emma, but as she had much to do with my early life, and as her specialities must then be brought forward, there is really no object in concealing either her weaknesses or defects.

At the date to which I am referring, some forty years ago, there was a great taste in many private families for immoderate physicking. Aunt Emma possessed this taste in no small degree; that she believed in its efficacy there can be no doubt, because she used to physic herself with the same generous freedom that she bestowed on us children. Each spring we regularly, for some five weeks, were put through a course of brimstone and treacle; each morning we were given a spoonful of treacle in which the gritty brimstone had been stirred with a free hand. If we looked pale or tired, or were more than ordinarily stupid at our lessons, Aunt Emma decided that a three-grain blue pill at night, followed by a cup of senna tea in the morning, was urgently needed. These doses came with dangerous frequency, and I can conscientiously say, not once for a fortnight, from the time I was five years old till nearly eleven, was I free of physic.

Whether it was from this or from any other cause, I cannot say for certain, but up to twelve years of age I was a pale, weak, sickly boy, given to sick headaches, sleepless nights, vomitings, and general debility, with a strong tendency to get alone somewhere, and either dream away the hours, or read and re-read any book that I was fortunate enough to procure.

Up to the age of twelve my life was a kind of tideless sea; time passed, but there were no events to mark it. Companions I had none, except my two sisters, and sometimes a forest lad, the son of a gamekeeper, who used to take me out squirrel-hunting or birds’-nesting. These expeditions, however, were all but forbidden by my aunt, who visited with her severe displeasure either absence from a meal or a late arrival for one.

Having given priority in description to my aunt, I must now endeavour to describe my father. If I were to write pages I could not more fully delineate my father’s character better than to state that he had but one fault, viz, he was too kind. This kindness actually degenerated into weakness, or, as some people might term it, feebleness or indifference. This peculiar attribute manifested itself in a neglect of my early education, and of that of my sisters. If it were suggested to him that I was old enough to go to a school, he invariably found some excuse, such as that I was just then too much out of health, or he could not spare me, or I was doing very well at home, or he could not select a school where he could be sure I should receive proper attention. The true reason for these excuses was, I believe, that he could not make up his mind to part with me. I was almost his only companion, for our nearest neighbour was three miles off, and he was a man devoted to hunting only, and had none of those refined tastes or love for literature and art that my father was famous for. The result of these conditions was that at the age of thirteen I was very old in manner and thought; I was prematurely old before I was young; but I lacked the knowledge, education, and experience which usually come with age, and I was, as regards other boys, the most veritable ignoramus as to the world – knowing nothing of boys, or of the great school-world, a complete dunce as regards those points of education on which all other lads of my own age were well-informed – having a somewhat exaggerated idea of my own talents, genius, and acquirements, and disposed to look down on those boys, sons of the neighbouring gentry, who about twice a year came to our house to partake of our hospitality, and enjoy a picnic in the forest.

My father was a perfect gentleman, in the full meaning of the word. He was most sensitive himself, and, believing all those with whom he associated to be equally gifted, he was most careful and considerate in all he said or did. With him it was little short of a crime to say or do anything that could by any chance hurt the feelings of even an acquaintance. I remember once hearing an anecdote related about my father, which may show how great was the belief at least of his sympathies with others. A guest at his dinner-table, on one occasion, upset by accident a glass of sherry on the table-cloth. The visitor apologised for his awkwardness, in most humble terms, blushed deeply, and again commenced a second apology. My father tried to place the guest at his ease, but, noticing how uncomfortable he appeared, my father (it was said, purposely) upset his own glass of wine, at which he laughed immoderately, and was joined by all at table, the result being that no further apologies were offered or awkwardness exhibited by the clumsy guest.

My father’s pet hobby was Natural History. He had a splendid collection of all the moths and butterflies to be found in England. It was a great treat for me to walk with him under the wide-spreading arms of the giant beech-trees or grand old oaks that grew around us, and watch him select the grub or cocoon of some insect that would have escaped the attention of common eyes, and hear him describe the changes through which this creature passed in its material career.

Many are the happy hours that I have passed with him watching the gambols of the squirrel, or, with a pair of powerful opera glasses, scrutinising the detail labours of various birds as they built their nests. The peculiar habits of various birds and insects were well known to me long before some of them were made known to the reading world by those gentlemen whose books on natural history were written from their experience gained in the library of the British Museum.

Long before naturalists had begun to speculate on the cause of that peculiar drumming noise made by the snipe when on the wing, my father and I had convinced ourselves that it was due to the bird spreading open the pinion feathers as it stooped in its flight. The New Forest was especially suited for the residence of a naturalist, as in it were many rare birds and insects, and the opportunities for watching the habits of these were frequent.

About my future course in life my father never spoke; he seemed disposed to let matters drift on; and I believe his wish was that I never should leave home for the purpose of taking up a profession, but that at his death I should still continue the quiet, peaceful life that we had hitherto led in the forest.

It is possible that I might have continued contented as a mere forest boy with country tastes, somewhat feeble powers, and what may be termed a wasted life, had I not by chance met an individual who in one short day turned the whole current of my thoughts into a new channel, and raised in my mind longings and wishes to which I had hitherto been a stranger. As my whole future life turned at this point I must devote a new chapter to a description of my meeting with this person.

Chapter Two

My First Adventure

I was in the habit of taking long walks, accompanied by my dog, through the forest and over those wastes of moorland which are to be found in various parts of Hampshire. Whilst thus wandering one day, I saw on a prominent knoll, from which an extensive view could be obtained of the surrounding country, two men, one of whom had on a red uniform. My life had been passed so entirely in the wilds of the forest that I had never before seen a soldier, and my curiosity was at once excited by this red-coat, and I consequently made my way towards him, intending to examine him as I would a new specimen of natural history.

On coming near the two persons I saw at once that the one in civilian dress was a gentleman. To me he looked old, but I afterwards found out he was only twenty-four; but a man of twenty-four is old to a boy of fourteen. This gentleman was busily occupied with a strange-looking instrument, which seemed made partly of brass and partly of wood. It stood on three legs, which were separated so as to form a pyramid, and on the apex of this was the brass apparatus referred to. I had approached to within about twenty yards of this instrument when the gentleman ceased looking at it, and, turning towards me, said, “Now, young fellow, mind you don’t get shot.”

“I beg pardon,” I said, “I didn’t know you were going to fire.” And as I said so I saw that what appeared rather like a tube was pointing towards me.

“If you get shot it will be your own fault,” said the gentleman; “so don’t expect me to be responsible. Don’t you see the muzzle is pointing at you?”

I slipped round very quickly, so as to place myself, as I supposed, behind the gun, but, in a moment, round went the instrument with a touch of the gentleman’s finger, and again the tube pointed at me.

“There you are again, right in the way,” said the stranger. “If you are not shot it’s a marvel to me.”

Seeing a smile on the face of the soldier, I began to suspect that I was being made fun of, so I said, “I don’t believe that is a gun.”

“Not a gun? Why, what a disbelieving young Jew you are?”

“I’m not a Jew,” I replied indignantly. “I’m a gentleman.”

“That’s good,” exclaimed the stranger, with a laugh. “Then you mean to assert that a Jew can’t be a gentleman? You’d better mind what you’re saying, sir, for I’m a Jew.”

I looked at him with surprise, for I had my own idea of what a Jew was on account of a Jew pedlar coming to our lodge twice a year with a pack of all sorts of odds and ends to sell; and certainly, as I looked at the tall, handsome-looking stranger, I saw no similarity between him and the pedlar. I had lived hitherto in a most matter-of-fact world, where such a thing as a joke was rare, and what is termed “chaff” was unknown, so I did not understand the meaning of these remarks, and certainly felt no inclination to smile.

“Do you live in these parts?” asked the stranger.

“Yes,” I replied. “Do you know the forest well?”

“Every part of it.”

“Now come here,” said the stranger. “Do you see those tall pines – those on that hill?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what is the name of that place?”

“That’s Castle Malwood.”

“Castle Malwood; and it’s well known about here by that name?”

“Yes, of course it is.”

“If I were to ask one of these chawbacon foresters to show me where Castle Malwood was, he would point out that place, eh?”

“Yes; every forester knows that.”

“How about the name of that house down there with the yew-trees round it?”

“That’s Blackthorn Lodge, where I live.”

“Oh, that’s your house, is it? And what’s your governor?”

“A gentleman.”

“I suppose you are home for the midsummer holidays?”

“No; I don’t go to school.”

“Tutor at home, I suppose?”

“No.”

“Who teaches you, then?”

“Aunt did, and now my father does.”

“And what are you going to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“You ought to be a cadet, and join the Engineers.”

I made no reply to this; for I had never thought of any career in the future, and had never had any ideas beyond our quiet forest home, so I was not prepared with any remark.

“How do you amuse yourself here?” said the stranger. “Rather a dull place, I fancy.”

“I watch the birds and insects, and study natural history,” I replied.

“You are fond of that, are you? You should have been with me in Africa, then, where you could have watched a herd of wild elephants, or seen a lion stalk a buck, or a gigantic snake kill a bustard: that’s the place for a naturalist.”

“Have you ever seen a wild elephant or lion?” I inquired, looking with a sudden feeling of respect at the gentleman.

“Seen them and shot them, too, and have been in a country where you had to burn fires all round you to prevent being trodden down by the herds of wild animals that come about you of a night.”

“Are you a soldier?” I inquired.

“I flatter myself I am. I am an officer of Engineers, and am here now surveying, and want all the information I can get about the forest; so, if you like, I’ll meet you to-morrow near your house, as I shall be taking angles on the heath near you.”

“Then that thing isn’t a gun?”

“No; it’s a theodolite, used for surveying. I often chaff the chawbacons here, by telling them I am going to fire, and then they don’t come bothering. What’s your name?”

“Shepard.”

“By George! that’s odd; why, my governor was at Cambridge with yours, and told me to call on you when I came down here. Is your governor at home?”

“Yes.”

“Then pack up the instrument, Roberts. I’ll come home with you, and see your governor, for I have a letter for him which I ought to have delivered before.”

The officer watched the instrument being packed up, and then started with me towards our house. On the way he described to me the country from which he had lately returned, and gave a vivid description of the vast plains covered with wild animals, of the forest teeming with strange creatures, and the air frequented by monstrous birds. Then he described a leopard-hunt in which he had taken part, and told me how one of the party had been seized and torn by the animal; and how, at last, it had been shot dead by a lucky shot. On his watch-chain were two of the claws of the leopard, which he showed me, and which gave me an idea of the size and strength of the creature. So vivid was his description, that the whole scene was before me, and I looked at him with mingled feelings of awe and admiration. I had read brief descriptions of lion and tiger hunts, but I had somehow mixed these up with tales from the “Arabian Nights,” and such like stories; but to meet a person who had himself been an actor in a lion-hunt, and who had himself killed some of the most powerful savage animals, was to me like a dream. My new acquaintance was to me a hero; and I was at once ready to follow his merest suggestion, if he would only tell me more of his adventures with wild beasts.

As we approached my father’s house, it occurred to me I had not asked the stranger’s name, and I should have to tell my father who he was; so after a little hesitation I inquired what his name was.

“Howard,” replied the officer. “I’m Jack Howard, Lieutenant Royal Engineers; my governor is the Vicar of Longstone, in Kent; so now you know all about me.”

As we approached the house we met my father, who, on learning who my companion was, welcomed him in the most cordial manner, and gave him a most pressing invitation to take up his residence at our lodge during the time he was surveying near us. That evening he stopped with us, and as we sat near the dining-room window, looking out on the endless glades of the grandest forest in England, Howard entertained us with descriptions of the scenes and adventures through which he had passed in Africa. He was a good talker, and had devoted much of his time to sport and to natural history, and was thus able to give my father descriptions of the rare animals he had met, and which were then but little known in England. As for me, I was simply entranced, and even my father seemed to listen with delight to descriptions of savage life, of which he had previously only read. I felt utterly miserable when Howard left, although he had promised to come on the following evening and stay with us a few days.

When I went to bed that night it was not to sleep; I tossed from side to side without any desire to close my eyes. The scenes of which I had heard were before me as vividly as though I had been an actor in them, and already had I made up my mind that I must be an engineer, and most myself enjoy similar experiences to those of Howard. Of the ways and means by which this result was to be accomplished I knew nothing, but I determined to ask Howard, on the first opportunity, how I could become an engineer officer, and then to try and induce my father to take such steps as would forward my views.

Howard came at the hour appointed, and took up his residence with us. I had counted the hours as they passed slowly and drearily till his arrival, and felt inclined to follow him like a dog as soon as he was in the house. I was anxious for an opportunity to tell him of my wish to be an engineer, and to ask him what I was to do to become one, for now it seemed that every hour’s delay was so much waste time, whilst the uncertainty as to whether I could or could not be one was a great source of anxiety to me.

It was not till the second day after his arrival that I found an opportunity of speaking to him about my wishes. It was towards the afternoon, when he returned early from his surveying, that I met him near the lodge, and summoning courage I said, “I have something I want to ask you.”

“What is it?” said Howard.

“I want to be an engineer officer like you. Can I?”

“There is no reason why you should not if you only work hard, but you have no time to lose. What age are you?”

“I’m nearly fifteen.”

“Then it will be sharp work for you, unless you are tolerably well up in Swat.”

“What is Swat?” I inquired.

“We call algebra and Euclid, and all those things, Swat at Woolwich. Are you good at Euclid?”

This question was an awkward one. I had been so entirely in the hands of my aunt as regards my education, that there were many subjects that I had never heard of, and which other boys of my own age knew well. Up to the time at which Howard asked me if I was well up in Euclid, I had, to the best of my memory, never even heard of Euclid; whilst algebra was also an unknown science. I had done sums of multiplication, and was supposed to have learnt rule-of-three, but I had yet to learn how little I knew, and to discover the difference between real knowledge and a mere superficial smattering. In reply to Howard’s question I had to own I knew nothing of Euclid.

“What have you done in algebra?” he next asked.

“Nothing. I know nothing about it.”

“By Jove! you are behindhand then; and unless you are at once sent to a crammer’s, you won’t get into the Academy even.”

“But I will work very hard,” I said, “for I am so anxious to be an engineer.”

“Of course, but you can no more learn a heap in a given time than you can eat an ox for dinner. You must have a certain time to prepare, and at sixteen and a half you will be too old for entry. Then, have you interest to get a nomination for Woolwich?”

“I must ask my father about that,” I replied; “but I wish you would speak to him, and say what a good thing it would be for me.”

Howard was silent for some minutes, and then said, “I will speak to your governor, for I think it is a great pity for a young fellow like you to waste his time in the country till he is too old to do anything; and as our governors were cronies, I may, perhaps, take the liberty of talking to him.”

It must have been on that evening, after I had gone to bed, that Howard broached the subject to my father; for on the following morning my father took me into the library, and, shutting the door carefully, as though what he was going to say was a great secret, said, “Howard tells me you are very anxious to be an engineer officer, and have talked to him about it. Now I have no wish to part with you, but if you think you would like such a profession, I will do what I can for you. It is a most gentlemanly profession, admits you to good society, enables you to see the world, and you may make your name known as a clever man. Young Howard is a good example for you. He carried off several prizes at Woolwich, and has always been considered a most promising young man, and he thinks you could not do better than go into the Engineers. You will have to work hard for a year or two, but with what you know already you will soon pick up all that is required, and your knowledge of natural history will no doubt help you on and bring you into notice. So if you think it will suit you I will apply for an appointment to the Academy.”

On the day following this conversation, Howard left us for a farm-house some eight miles distant, and on the day after his departure my father sent a letter to the Master-General of the Ordnance, asking for an appointment for me to the Academy, and stating that I was clever, and a good naturalist.