Great Scenes from Great Novels
Great Scenes from Great Novels - The Fight between Dobbin and Cuff - W.M. Thackeray (Abridged and Simplified)
Great Scenes from Great Novels -
The Fight between Dobbin and Cuff
The Fight between Dobbin and Cuff
W.M. Thackeray
(Abridged and Simplified)
Dobbin's school days at Dr. Swishtail's famous school were very unhappy ones. His fight with Cuff, and the unexpected issue of that contest, will long be remembered by every man who was educated at this school.
Dobbin was a quiet, dull and clumsy fellow. He was the object of contempt to his school fellows. He was referred to as Heigh-Ho Dobbin or Gee - Ho Dobbin. His father was a grocer in the city.
It was from his stock of various goods that Dobbin's expenses were defrayed. He stood - almost at the bottom of the school - as the representative of so many pounds of tea, candles, sugar, mottled - soap, plums and other commodities.
A dreadful day it was for young Dobbin when one of the youngsters of the school, having run into the town upon a poaching excursion, espied the cart of Dobbin and Rudge, Grocers and Oilmen, Thames street, London, at the Doctor's door, discharging a cargo of the wares in which the firm dealt.
Young Dobbin came to be called "Figs". He had no peace after that. The jokes were frightful and merciless against him "Hullo - Dobbin", one wag would say, "here's good news in the paper.
Sugar is risen, my boy". Another would set a sum - "If a pound of mutton - candles cost seven pence half penny, how much Dobbin Cost?", and a roar would follow from all the circle of young knaves.
"Your father's only a merchant, Osborne", Dobbin said in private to the little boy who had brought down the storm upon him. At which the latter replied haughtily, "My father's a gentleman, and keeps his carriage".
Mr. William Dobbin retreated to a remote outhouse in the playground. There he passed a half holiday in the bitterest sadness and woe.
William Dobbin could never get to terms with "The Eton Latin Grammar". Consequently, he remained at the bottom of his class. High and low, all made fun of him. They cut his bed - strings. They upset buckets and benches, so that he might break his shins over them, which he never failed to do.
They sent him parcels, which, when opened, were found to contain the paternal soap and candles. These was no little fellow but had his jeer and joke at Dobbin; and he bore everything quite patiently, and was entirely dumb and miserable.
At the other extreme to Dobbin was Cuff, the chief and dandy of the school. He smuggled wine in. He fought with the town boys. Ponies used to come for him to ride home on Saturday.
He had his top - boots in his room, in which he used to hunt in the holidays. He had a gold repeater, and took snuff like the Doctor. He memorized Latin verses for the mere asking, and could even write French poetry. They said even the Doctor himself was afraid of him.
Cuff, the unquestioned king of the school, ruled over his subjects, and bullied them, with splendid superiority. This one blacked his shoes; that toasted his bread, others would fag out, and give him balls at cricket during whole summer afternoon. "Figs" was the fellow whom he ever condescend to hold personal communication with him. He always bruised him and snared at him.
One day, in private, the two young gentlemen had a difference. Figs was alone in the schoolroom. He was writing home to his mother. Just then Cuff came in and asked Dobbin to run an errand for him.
"I can't", said Dobbin, "I want to finish my letter".
"You can't", said Cuff. He grabbed the letter and glanced the contents. "Can't you write to old mother Figs tomorrow!".
WO "Don't call names", Dobbin did, getting off the bench nervous.
"Well, sir, will you go?" crowed the cock of the school.
"Put down the letter," Dobbin replied; "Reading another's letter was ungentlemanly".
When Cuff persisted, Dobbin threatened to thrash him. Cuff paused, turned down his coat sleeves and quickly walked away. He never again meddled in Dobbin's affairs, but continued to speak ill of Dobbin behind his back.
One bright summer afternoon after this incident, Dobbin was lying under a tree in the playground. He was spelling over a favourite copy of "The Arabian Nights", quite lonely and almost happy.
Suddenly the shrill noise as of a little boy weeping, woke him up from his pleasant reverie. Looking up, he saw Cuff before him, belabouring a little boy.
It was the lad who had teased Dobbin about his father's occupation.
"How dare you, sir, break the bottle?" said Cuff to the little urchin, swinging a yellow cricket - stump over him.
Down came the stump with a great heavy thump on the child's hand. The boy moaned. Whisking away Sindbad the Sailor from the valley of Diamonds into the summer clouds, he ran forward to the rescue of the younger boy, and challenged Cuff.
Cuff was completely taken aback; he had hardly expected this. But he was too proud to refuse the challenge from "Heigh-Ho Dobbin. "I'll fight after school hours", said Cuff. "Make your will, and communicate your last wishes to your friends between this time and that”
"As you please", Dobbin said, "You must be bottle holder, Osborne". "Well, if you like", little Osborne replied.
Yet, when the hour of battle came, he was almost ashamed to say, 'Go it, Figs". Not a single other boy in the place uttered that cry for the first two or three rounds of his famous combat.
At the commencement of the combat the scientific Cuff, with a contemptuous smile on his face, planted his blows upon his adversary, and floored that unlucky champion three times running. At each fall there was a cheer. Everybody was anxious to have the honor of offering the conqueror a knee.
"What a licking I shall get when it's over", young Osborne thought, picking up his man "You'd best give in", he said to Dobbin. "It's only a thrashing, Figs, and you know I'm used to it".
But Figs, all of whose limbs were in a quiver, and whose nostrils were breathing rage put his little bottle - holder aside, and went in for a fourth time.
Cuff had begun the attack on the three preceding occasions, without ever allowing his enemy to strike. Figs was now determined that he would commence the engagement by a charge on his own part.
Accordingly, being a left - handed man, Figs brought that arm into action, and hit out a couple of times with all his might - once at Mr. Cuff's eye, and once on his beautiful Roman nose.
Cuff went down this time to the astonishment of the assembly "Well hit, by Jove", said little Osborne with the air of connoisseur, clapping his man on the back. Give it to him with the left, Figs, my boy".
Figs's left made terrific play during all the rest of the combat. Cuff went down every time. At the sixth round there were almost as many fellows shouting out, "Go it, Figs," as there were youths exclaiming, "Go it, Cuff".
At the twelfth round the champion had lost all presence of mind and power of attack or defence. Figs, on the contrary, was as calm as a Quaker. His face was quite pale, his eyes were shining open, and a great cut on his under lip was bleeding profusely.
He gave the young fellow a fierce and ghastly air. It perhaps struck terror into many spectators. Nevertheless, his intrepid adversary prepared to close for the thirteenth time. Cuff coming up full of pluck, but quite reeling and groggy, the Figmerchant put in his left as usual on his adversary's nose, and sent him down for the last time.
"I think that will do for him", Figs said, and his opponent dropped neatly on the green. When time was called, Cuff was not able, or did not choose, to stand up again.
And now all the boys set up such a shout for Figs as would have made you think he had been their darling champion through the whole battle. Dr. Swishtail was brought out of his study.
He was curious to know the cause of the uproar. He threatened to flog Figs violently, of course. But Cuff, who had come to himself by this time, and was washing his hands, stood up and said. "It's my fault, Sir - not Figs' - not Dobbins.
I was bullying a little boy and he served me right". By his magnanimous speech he not only saved his conqueror a whipping, but got back all his ascendancy over the boys which his defeat had nearly cost him.
Young Osborne wrote home to his parents an account of this transaction.
"Sugarcane House, Richmond", March 18
"Dear Mamma, - I hope you are quite well. I should be much obliged to you to send me a cake and five shillings. There has been a fight here between Cuff and Dobbin.
Cuff, you know, was the cock of the school. They fought thirteen rounds, and Dobbin licked. So Cuff is now only second cock. The fight was about me. Cuff was licking me for breaking a bottle of milk, and Figs would not stand it.
We call him Figs because his father is a Grocer - Figs & Rudge, Thames St. City - I think as he fought for me you ought to buy your Tea & Sugar at his father's.
Your dutiful son,
George Sedly Osborme".
Dobbin was a quiet, dull and clumsy fellow. He was the object of contempt to his school fellows. He was referred to as Heigh-Ho Dobbin or Gee - Ho Dobbin. His father was a grocer in the city.
It was from his stock of various goods that Dobbin's expenses were defrayed. He stood - almost at the bottom of the school - as the representative of so many pounds of tea, candles, sugar, mottled - soap, plums and other commodities.
A dreadful day it was for young Dobbin when one of the youngsters of the school, having run into the town upon a poaching excursion, espied the cart of Dobbin and Rudge, Grocers and Oilmen, Thames street, London, at the Doctor's door, discharging a cargo of the wares in which the firm dealt.
Young Dobbin came to be called "Figs". He had no peace after that. The jokes were frightful and merciless against him "Hullo - Dobbin", one wag would say, "here's good news in the paper.
Sugar is risen, my boy". Another would set a sum - "If a pound of mutton - candles cost seven pence half penny, how much Dobbin Cost?", and a roar would follow from all the circle of young knaves.
"Your father's only a merchant, Osborne", Dobbin said in private to the little boy who had brought down the storm upon him. At which the latter replied haughtily, "My father's a gentleman, and keeps his carriage".
Mr. William Dobbin retreated to a remote outhouse in the playground. There he passed a half holiday in the bitterest sadness and woe.
William Dobbin could never get to terms with "The Eton Latin Grammar". Consequently, he remained at the bottom of his class. High and low, all made fun of him. They cut his bed - strings. They upset buckets and benches, so that he might break his shins over them, which he never failed to do.
They sent him parcels, which, when opened, were found to contain the paternal soap and candles. These was no little fellow but had his jeer and joke at Dobbin; and he bore everything quite patiently, and was entirely dumb and miserable.
At the other extreme to Dobbin was Cuff, the chief and dandy of the school. He smuggled wine in. He fought with the town boys. Ponies used to come for him to ride home on Saturday.
He had his top - boots in his room, in which he used to hunt in the holidays. He had a gold repeater, and took snuff like the Doctor. He memorized Latin verses for the mere asking, and could even write French poetry. They said even the Doctor himself was afraid of him.
Cuff, the unquestioned king of the school, ruled over his subjects, and bullied them, with splendid superiority. This one blacked his shoes; that toasted his bread, others would fag out, and give him balls at cricket during whole summer afternoon. "Figs" was the fellow whom he ever condescend to hold personal communication with him. He always bruised him and snared at him.
One day, in private, the two young gentlemen had a difference. Figs was alone in the schoolroom. He was writing home to his mother. Just then Cuff came in and asked Dobbin to run an errand for him.
"I can't", said Dobbin, "I want to finish my letter".
"You can't", said Cuff. He grabbed the letter and glanced the contents. "Can't you write to old mother Figs tomorrow!".
WO "Don't call names", Dobbin did, getting off the bench nervous.
"Well, sir, will you go?" crowed the cock of the school.
"Put down the letter," Dobbin replied; "Reading another's letter was ungentlemanly".
When Cuff persisted, Dobbin threatened to thrash him. Cuff paused, turned down his coat sleeves and quickly walked away. He never again meddled in Dobbin's affairs, but continued to speak ill of Dobbin behind his back.
One bright summer afternoon after this incident, Dobbin was lying under a tree in the playground. He was spelling over a favourite copy of "The Arabian Nights", quite lonely and almost happy.
Suddenly the shrill noise as of a little boy weeping, woke him up from his pleasant reverie. Looking up, he saw Cuff before him, belabouring a little boy.
It was the lad who had teased Dobbin about his father's occupation.
"How dare you, sir, break the bottle?" said Cuff to the little urchin, swinging a yellow cricket - stump over him.
Down came the stump with a great heavy thump on the child's hand. The boy moaned. Whisking away Sindbad the Sailor from the valley of Diamonds into the summer clouds, he ran forward to the rescue of the younger boy, and challenged Cuff.
Cuff was completely taken aback; he had hardly expected this. But he was too proud to refuse the challenge from "Heigh-Ho Dobbin. "I'll fight after school hours", said Cuff. "Make your will, and communicate your last wishes to your friends between this time and that”
"As you please", Dobbin said, "You must be bottle holder, Osborne". "Well, if you like", little Osborne replied.
Yet, when the hour of battle came, he was almost ashamed to say, 'Go it, Figs". Not a single other boy in the place uttered that cry for the first two or three rounds of his famous combat.
At the commencement of the combat the scientific Cuff, with a contemptuous smile on his face, planted his blows upon his adversary, and floored that unlucky champion three times running. At each fall there was a cheer. Everybody was anxious to have the honor of offering the conqueror a knee.
"What a licking I shall get when it's over", young Osborne thought, picking up his man "You'd best give in", he said to Dobbin. "It's only a thrashing, Figs, and you know I'm used to it".
But Figs, all of whose limbs were in a quiver, and whose nostrils were breathing rage put his little bottle - holder aside, and went in for a fourth time.
Cuff had begun the attack on the three preceding occasions, without ever allowing his enemy to strike. Figs was now determined that he would commence the engagement by a charge on his own part.
Accordingly, being a left - handed man, Figs brought that arm into action, and hit out a couple of times with all his might - once at Mr. Cuff's eye, and once on his beautiful Roman nose.
Cuff went down this time to the astonishment of the assembly "Well hit, by Jove", said little Osborne with the air of connoisseur, clapping his man on the back. Give it to him with the left, Figs, my boy".
Figs's left made terrific play during all the rest of the combat. Cuff went down every time. At the sixth round there were almost as many fellows shouting out, "Go it, Figs," as there were youths exclaiming, "Go it, Cuff".
At the twelfth round the champion had lost all presence of mind and power of attack or defence. Figs, on the contrary, was as calm as a Quaker. His face was quite pale, his eyes were shining open, and a great cut on his under lip was bleeding profusely.
He gave the young fellow a fierce and ghastly air. It perhaps struck terror into many spectators. Nevertheless, his intrepid adversary prepared to close for the thirteenth time. Cuff coming up full of pluck, but quite reeling and groggy, the Figmerchant put in his left as usual on his adversary's nose, and sent him down for the last time.
"I think that will do for him", Figs said, and his opponent dropped neatly on the green. When time was called, Cuff was not able, or did not choose, to stand up again.
And now all the boys set up such a shout for Figs as would have made you think he had been their darling champion through the whole battle. Dr. Swishtail was brought out of his study.
He was curious to know the cause of the uproar. He threatened to flog Figs violently, of course. But Cuff, who had come to himself by this time, and was washing his hands, stood up and said. "It's my fault, Sir - not Figs' - not Dobbins.
I was bullying a little boy and he served me right". By his magnanimous speech he not only saved his conqueror a whipping, but got back all his ascendancy over the boys which his defeat had nearly cost him.
Young Osborne wrote home to his parents an account of this transaction.
"Sugarcane House, Richmond", March 18
"Dear Mamma, - I hope you are quite well. I should be much obliged to you to send me a cake and five shillings. There has been a fight here between Cuff and Dobbin.
Cuff, you know, was the cock of the school. They fought thirteen rounds, and Dobbin licked. So Cuff is now only second cock. The fight was about me. Cuff was licking me for breaking a bottle of milk, and Figs would not stand it.
We call him Figs because his father is a Grocer - Figs & Rudge, Thames St. City - I think as he fought for me you ought to buy your Tea & Sugar at his father's.
Your dutiful son,
George Sedly Osborme".
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