In 1830 the reputation of Westminster stood high.  The boarding-houses were well managed, the lagging in them was light, and their tone was good.  Unhappily, in spite of the head master’s remonstrances, Froude’s father, who had spent a great deal of money on his other sons’ education, insisted on placing him in college, which was then far too rough for a boy of his age and strength.  On account of what he had read, rather than what he had learnt, at Buckfastleigh, he took a very high place, and was put with boys far older than himself.  The lagging was excessively severe.  The bullying was gross and unchecked.  The sanitary accommodation was abominable.  The language of the dormitory was indecent and profane.  Froude, whose health prevented him from the effective use of nature’s weapons, was woke by the hot points of cigars burning holes in his face, made drunk by being forced to swallow brandy punch, and repeatedly thrashed.  He was also more than half starved, because the big fellows had the pick of the joints at dinner, and left the small fellows little besides the bone.  Ox-tail soup at the pastrycook’s took the place of a meal which the authorities were bound to provide.  Scandalous as all this may have been, it was not peculiar to Westminster.  The state of college at Winchester, and at Eton, was in many respects as bad.  Public schools had not yet felt the influence of Arnold and of the reforming spirit.  Head masters considered domestic details beneath them, and parents, if they felt any responsibility at all, persuaded themselves that boys were all the better for roughing it as a preparation for the discipline of the world.  The case of Froude, however, was a peculiarly bad one.  He was suffering from hernia, and the treatment might well have killed him.  Although his lagging only lasted for a year, he was persistently bullied and tormented, until he forgot what he had learned, instead of adding to it.  When the body is starved and ill-treated, the mind will not work.  The head master, Dr. Williamson, was disappointed in a boy of whom he had expected so much, and wrote unfavourable reports.  After enduring undeserved and disabling hardships for three years and a half, Froude was taken away from Westminster at the age of fifteen.

To escape from such a den of horrors was at first a relief.  But he soon found that his miseries were not over.  He came home in disgrace.  His misfortunes were regarded as his faults, and the worst construction was put upon everything he said or did.  His clothes and books had been freely stolen in the big, unregulated dormitory.  He was accused of having pawned them, and his denials were not believed.  If he had had a mother, all might have been well, for no woman with a heart would assume that her child was lying.  The Archdeacon, without a particle of evidence, assumed it at once, and beat the wretched boy severely in the presence of the approving Hurrell.  Hurrell would have made an excellent inquisitor.  His brother always spoke of him as peculiarly gifted in mind and in character; but he knew little of human nature, and he doubtless fancied that in torturing Anthony’s body he was helping Anthony’s soul.  To alter two words in the fierce couplet of the satirist,