William the Fourth (2 page)

It was then that William realised the power of numbers. He resolved at once to enlarge his Branch.

Rubbing the side on which he had descended on the landing, and frowning fiercely, he went downstairs and out into the road. Near the gate was Victor Jameson, Jameson Jameson’s younger
brother, gazing up at Robert’s bedroom window, which could be seen through the trees.

‘He’s up there talkin’,’ he muttered scornfully. ‘Doesn’t he
talk?’

The tone of contempt was oil on the troubled waters of William’s feelings.

‘I’ve just bit him hard,’ he said modestly.

The two linked arms affectionately and set off down the road. At the corner of the road they fell in with George Bell. William had left Ronald Bell, George’s elder brother, leaning against
the mantelpiece in Robert’s room and examining himself in the glass. He was letting his hair grow long, and he hoped it was beginning to show.

‘What do they
do
up at your house?’ demanded George with curiosity. ‘He won’t tell me anything. He says it’s secret. He says no one’s got to know now,
but all the world will know some day. That’s what he
says.’

‘Huh,’
said Victor scornfully. ‘They
talk.
That’s all they do. They
talk.’

‘Let’s find a few more,’ said William, ‘an’ I’ll tell you all about it.’

It being Saturday afternoon they soon collected the few more, and the company returned to the summerhouse at the end of William’s garden. The company consisted chiefly of younger brothers
of the members of the gathering upstairs.

William rose to address them with one hand inside his coat in an attitude copied faithfully from Jameson Jameson.

‘They gotter ole society,’ he said, ‘an’ they’ve made me a Branch, so I can make all you Branches. So, now you’re all Branches. See? Well, they say how
we’re all ’uman bein’s an’ equal. Well, they say if we’re equal we oughtn’t to have less money an’ things than other folks, and more work to do, an’
all that. That’s wot I heard ’em say.’

Here the cat from next door, drawn by the familiar sound of William’s voice, peered into the summerhouse, and was promptly dismissed by a well-aimed stick. It looked reproachfully at
William as it departed.

‘And today they said,’ went on William, ‘that now is the time for
Action,
an’ how we’d only the mean bit of money our fathers gave us; and then they found me
an’ I bit his leg, and they threw me out, an’ I bet I’ve got a big ole bruise on my side, an’ I bet he’s got a bigger ole bite on his leg.’

He sat down, amid applause, and George, acting with a generosity born of a sudden feeling of comradeship, took a stick of rock from his pocket and passed it round for a suck each. This somewhat
disturbed the harmony of the meeting, as ‘Ginger’, William’s oldest friend, was accused of biting a piece off, and the explanation, that it ‘came off in his mouth’,
was not accepted by the irate owner, who was already regretting his generosity. The combatants were parted by William, and peace was sealed by the passing round of a bottle of liquorice water
belonging to Victor Jameson.

Then William rose for a second speech.

‘Well, we’re all Branches, so let’s do same as them. They’re goin’ to get equal cause they’re ’uman bein’s; so let’s try and get equal
too.’

‘Equal with what?’ demanded Douglas, whose elder brother had joined Jameson Jameson’s society, and had secretly purchased a red tie, which he did not dare to wear in public,
but which he donned behind a tree on his way to William’s house, and doffed in the same place on his way from William’s house.

‘Equal to
them,
’ said William. ‘Why just think of the things they’ve got. They’ve got lots of money, haven’t they? – lots more than what we have,
an’ they can buy anything they want, an’ they stay up for dinner always, and go out late at night, an’ eat what they want with no one sayin’ had they better, or
cert’nly not, or what happened last time, an’ they smoke an’ don’t go to school, an’ go to the pictures, an’ they’ve got lots more things ’n
we’ve got – bicycles an’ grammerphones, an’ fountain-pens, an’ watches, an’ things what we’ve not got. Well, an’ we’re ’uman beings, too,
an’ we ought to be equal, an’ why shun’t we be equal? – an’ now’s the time for
Action!
They said so.’

There was a silence.

‘But—’ said Douglas slowly, ‘we can’t just
take
things, can we?’

‘Yes,’ said William, ‘we
can
if we’re Bolshevists. They said so. An’ we’re all Bolshevist Branches. They made me, an’ I made you. See? So we can
take anything to make us equal. See? We’ve got to be equal.’

Here the meeting was stopped by the spectacle of the Senior Bolshevists issuing from the side door wearing frowns of stern determination. Douglas’s brother fingered his red tie
ostentatiously; Ronald pulled down his cap over his eyes with the air of a conspirator; Jameson Jameson limped slightly and smiled patiently and forgivingly upon Robert, who was still apologising
for William. The words that were wafted across to listening ears upon the Spring breeze were: ‘Next Tuesday, then’.

Then the Branches turned to a discussion of details. They were nothing if not practical. After about a quarter of an hour they departed, each pulling his cap over his eye and frowning. As they
departed they murmured: ‘Next Tuesday, then’.

Next Tuesday dawned bright and clear, with no hint that it was one of those days on which the world’s fate is decided.

The Senior Bolshevists met in the morning. They discussed the possibility of getting in touch with Lenin, but no one knew his exact address, or the rate of postage to Russia, so no definite step
was taken.

During the afternoon Robert followed his father into the library. His face was set and stern.

‘Look here, Father,’ he said, ‘we’ve been thinking – some of us. Things don’t seem fair. We’re all human beings. It’s time for action. We’ve
all agreed to speak to our fathers today and point things out to them. They’ve been misjudged and maligned, but we’re going to purge them of all that. You see, we’re all human
beings, and it’s time for action. We’re all agreed on that. We’ve got equal rights, because we’re all human beings.’

He paused, inserted a finger between his neck and collar as if he found its pressure intolerable, then smoothed back his hair. He was looking almost apoplectic.

‘I don’t know whether I make my meaning clear,’ he began again.

‘You don’t, old chap, whatever it may be,’ said his father soothingly. ‘Perhaps you feel the heat? – or the Spring? You ought to take something cooling, and then
lie down for a few hours.’

‘You don’t understand,’ said Robert desperately. ‘It’s life or death to civilisation. You see, we’re all human beings, and all equal, and we’ve got
equal rights, and yet some have all the things, and some have none. You see, we thought we’d all start at home and get things made more fair there, and our fathers to divide up the money more
fairly and give us our real share, and then we could go round teaching other people to give things up to other people and share things out more fairly. You see, we must begin at home, and then we
start fair. We’re all human beings with equal rights.’

‘You’re so very modest in your demands,’ said Robert’s father. ‘Would half be enough for you? Are you sure you wouldn’t like a little more?’

Robert waved the suggestion aside.

‘No,’ he said, ‘you see, you have the others to keep. But we’ve all decided to ask our fathers today, then we can start fair and have some funds to go on. A society
without funds seems to be so handicapped. And it would be an example to other fathers all over the world. You see—’

At this moment Robert’s mother came in.

‘What a mess your room’s in, Robert! I hope William hasn’t been rummaging in it.’

Robert turned pale.

‘William!’ he gasped, and fled to investigate.

He returned in a few minutes, almost inarticulate with fury.

‘My watch!’ he said. ‘My purse! Both gone! I’m going after him.’

He seized his hat from the hall, and started to the door. His father watched him, leaning easily against the doorpost of the library, and smiling.

From the garden as he passed came a wail.

‘My bicycle! Gone too. The shed’s empty!’

In the road he met Jameson Jameson.

‘Burglars!’ said Jameson Jameson. ‘All my money’s been taken. And my camera! The wretches! I’m going to scour the country for them.’

Various other members of the Bolshevist Society appeared, filled with wrath and lamenting vanished treasures.

‘It can’t be burglars,’ said Robert, ‘because why only us?’

‘Do you think someone in the Government found out about us being Bolshevists and is trying to intimidate us?’

Jameson Jameson thought this very likely, and they discussed it excitedly in the middle of the road, some hatless, some hatted, all talking breathlessly. Then at the other end of the road
appeared a group of boys. They were happy, rollicking boys. They all carried bags of sweets which they ate lavishly and handed round to their friends equally lavishly. One held a camera – or
the remains of a camera – whose mechanism the entire party had just been investigating. One more had a large wristwatch upon a small wrist. One walked (or rather leapt) upon a silver-topped
walking-stick. One, the quietest of the group, was smoking a cigarette. At the side near the ditch about half a dozen rode intermittently upon a bicycle. The descent of the bicycle and its cargo
into the ditch was greeted with roars of laughter. They were very happy boys. They sang as they walked.

‘We’ve been to the pictures.’

‘In the best seats.’

‘Bought lots of sweets and a mouth-organ.’

‘We’ve got a bicycle, an’ a camera, an’ two watches, an’ a fountain-pen, an’ a razor, an’ a football, an’ lots of things.’

White with fury, the Senior Bolshevists charged down upon them. The Junior Bolshevists stood their ground firmly, with the exception of the one who had been smoking a cigarette, and he, perforce
a coward for physical rather than moral reasons, crept quietly home, relinquishing without reluctance his half-smoked cigarette. In the Homeric battle that followed, accusations and justifications
were hurled to and fro as the struggle proceeded.

‘You beastly little thieves!’

‘You said to be equal, an’ why should some people have all the things!’

‘You little wretches!’

‘We’re ’uman beings an’ got to
take
things to make equal. You
said
so.’

‘Give it back to me!’

‘Why should you have it an’ not me? It was time for Action, you said.’

‘You’ve
spoilt
it.’

‘Well, it’s as much mine as yours. We’ve got equal rights. We’re all ’uman beings.’

But the battle was one-sided, and the Junior Branch, having surrendered their booty and received punishment, fled in confusion. The Senior Branch, bending lovingly and sadly over battered
treasures, walked slowly and silently up the road.

‘About your Society—’ began Mr Brown after dinner.

‘No,’ said Robert, ‘it’s all off. We’ve given it up, after all. We don’t think there’s much in it, after all. None of us do, now. We feel quite
different.’

‘But you were so enthusiastic about it this afternoon. Sharing fairly, and all that sort of thing.’

‘Yes,’ said Robert. ‘That’s all very well. It’s all right when you can get your share of other people’s things, but when other people try to get their share
of your things, then it’s different.’

‘Ah,’ said Mr Brown, ‘that’s the weak spot. I’m glad you found it out.’

CHAPTER 2

WILLIAM AND PHOTOGRAPHY

M
rs Adolphus Crane was William’s mother’s second cousin and William’s godmother. Among the many senseless institutions of
grown-up life the institutions of godmothers and godfathers seemed to William the most senseless of all. Moreover, Mrs Adolphus Crane was rich and immensely respectable – the last person whom
Fate should have selected as his godmother. Fortunately, she lived at a distance, and so was spared the horrible spectacle of William’s daily crimes. His meetings with her had not been
fortunate, so far, in spite of his family’s earnest desire that he should impress her favourably.