TITLE: Letters to a Friend
AUTHOR: Simon
SUMMARY: Horatio's school boy letters to a friend
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these guys; I make no money from them. I just borrow them now and then.
ARCHIVE: Sure
FEEDBACK: Of course, that's half the fun! note: these letters are a small part of the correspondence which was exchanged between Horatio and his childhood friend, John Best, beginning when Horatio was sent away to boarding school at the age of five and a half.
Letters to a Friend
deer Horatio, 28 Jan 1781
I know that I am not good at riting, but I wil if you wil answr. I mis you.
John
Dear Johnny, 12 Feb. 1781
I'm sterting to get used to being at this school. There are a lot of othr boys and most of them are all right but I havn't mad any frens yet.
I miss you, too.
Your fren, Horatio
Deer Horatio, 10 Decenber1785
It is harvest and my father wont let me go anywhere until it is finished. The cow died. She was old. We wil get another. I hope that you are good. I cant go to school now becauz there is work to do heer. I miss you. Wil you com hom for Chrismas?
Your fren John
Dear Johnny, 20 December 1785
No, I am not going to come home for Christmas. My father says that he expects me there, but when I am there all he ever does is yell at me and tell me that he wishes that I were never born.
I miss you and Rosie, but I'd rather stay here. I will come home in the summer. Please don't stop writing to me. I want to go swimming with you at the pond next summer. I like it there. I think about it a lot.
I am doing well in my studies and the headmaster says that he thinks that I am clever. He says that soon I can start on algebra. I hope so, because I like math.
Did you get a new cow?
We are starting to study about the war with the American Colonies. It's interesting. The master says that they were wrong to do what they did, but I think that I can understand why they did it. I'm not sure if I agree with them, but someday I would like to go there to see for myself. Maybe we could go together.
Your friend, Horatio
Deer Horatio, 14 April 1787
I went back to schol again for a while. I don't no why you like it so much. I think that it is booring. I don't like it.
The new cow had a calf last week. It looks like it is a gud one. I think that we wil kep it. We did the planting and we hop that the crops wil be gud this yeer. Are you going to cum hom? I hop that you do. I want to swim with you again.
Your Friend, Johnny
Dear Johnny, 5 May 1787
Yes, I will be home this summer. We have a six-week break and I will come home at the beginning of June. I miss you, too.
We have been studying Latin and Greek this term and it's quite fun. We saw some drawings of the old statues and the old buildings and I think that I would like to go to see them myself some day. The master told me that it's hot in Greece and that the water around the Greek Islands is so clear that you can see all the way to the bottom. The way he talked made it sound like being on top of glass.
I would like to go there.
I will be back in a few weeks and I will see you as soon as I get there.
Your friend, Horatio
Deer Horatio, 12 November 1790
It was gud to see you last wek . I don't know how you can go all that wa to school. I was never that far from hom befor and I don't think that I liked it. I like being in r own village wher I no everyone.
But my father sed that I shuld see more than I can jus see by staying hom. He sed that it is important to no what other places r like. Your school is big and ther r so many lads ther.
That is the kin of place u shuld be in. You r smart and you belong ther. I could see that. I saw the number problems on the bord and I didn't even no what they wer, but u culd do them. You r smartr than me. I m glad that we r frens.
Johnny
Dear Johnny, 20 November 1790
I was terribly happy to see you when you were in this area. You can't imagine what a treat it was to be able to show you about the buildings and the grounds and to have you meet some of the lads.
You shouldn't be all that impressed with the work you saw on that board in the mathematics room. It was actually a simple problem for the younger lads that I'm sure you could have answered if you had decided to put you mind to it. They just wrote it the way that it was to frighten the class. The teachers seem to think that's funny.
Now that I've seen you again, unexpectedly, I miss you more than usual. I'm glad that we write to each other as often as we do. I've managed to become somewhat friendly with some of the others, but you are still my best friend. I don't tell the others anything that I really care about, I only write those things to you because I know that you will never tell another soul. Besides, I know that they only hang about me because they think that I might do their work for them. I won't, but they seem to think that if they are with me, the headmaster will not yell at them for anything. Sometimes I think they only want to be with me so that they can be seen with me. I know that sounds stupid, but the others think that I'm the teacher's pet. I'm not. I have to work as hard as any of them, but they don't believe that. I think that if the others spent as much time at their studies as they did trying to avoid them, they would be better off.
Maybe I'll come back for Christmas this year. I will write to father and if he replies, I may see you next month.
Your friend, Horatio
Deer Horatio, 20 December 1790
I was sory to heer that you wil not be cuming hom for Christmas. I hoped that you wuld be heer. I hav a present for you.
I no that you don't like your father, but I thot that we culd be together and maybe next yeer we wil be. I hop that you hav a gud Christmas.
Your friend, Johnny
Dear Johnny, 25 December 1790
Forgive me that I've disappointed you by not coming home this year, I truly am sorry and I hope that you will understand.
I wrote to my father two weeks ago about my coming home but he seems to think that it would be better if I did not as he is quite busy with his patients again this year, as he was last year.
I think that it will be better if I were to stay here until the summer holiday next June. By then, perhaps, he will be more willing to have me about, although he is starting to think that I should begin an apprenticeship somewhere. I don't know yet what he has in mind about that, but don't doubt that he will tell me in due course.
I will likely stay in the dormitory, as I did last year. The housemother, Mrs. Greaves, is kind and lets me eat in the kitchen with her and her sons, who also attend this school. I help them with their studies and the time passes quickly. I also get more time to read with no one else here, so that is good. I'm almost two years ahead of the other lads my age, and the headmaster seems pleased with me.
I miss you, Johnny. I miss the talks we would have and knowing that I could talk to you about anything that popped into my head. I miss having a friend who understands me and accepts me as I am and who doesn't want anything from me. I wish that we could still be together all the time like we used to be.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my mother hadn't died. I wonder if I would have been sent here at all and I think that I probably wouldn't have been. I think that everything would be different if she hadn't died. Maybe my father wouldn't hate me the way that he does.
I don't know. Maybe nothing would be different. Maybe I'd still be here any he wouldn't speak to me.
Sometimes I think that it doesn't matter either way. At some point we all have to learn how to make our own way and I might as well start early, it's just that sometimes I wish that I had someone I could really talk to. No one here understands what it's like with my father. I know that I complain about him a lot and I probably shouldn't because he is paying for the school, but I wish that he liked me even a little bit.
I know that sounds stupid.
I'm sorry that I can't come home this Christmas. I miss you.
Your friend, Horatio
Deer Horatio, 2 May 1793
I saw your father today. He sed that you are almost dun with that school and that you wil be home soon. I'm glad becuz I mis you and now we can be together like we wer befor.
He sed that you wil be hom in a few weks. I'm glad, Horatio.
What wil you do after you are dun with school? Do you no?
I hav ben seeing Nancy frum the village a lot. I lik her and she likes me, to. It is strang to hav a girl, Horatio, but I lik it. I lik her and I lik being with her.
Your friend, John
Dear Johnny, 2 June 1793
I learned today that I have been accepted at both Cambridge and Oxford Universities to study after I finish next week. The headmaster applied for me without telling either my father or me. He wanted to surprise me. He succeeded.
I was accepted by both of them, I have my choice of which one I could attend, but I can't go to either one of them because there is no money. They are so expensive and I know that my father will never pay the tuition. He was angry enough about having to pay the bills at this place and this is nothing compared with university.
I can't go, John. It's what I want most in the world and I can't.
I could have studied history or medicine or philosophy or mathematics or—God, I could have studied anything. Anything. But I can't. I can't do anything, except to go back to that little village where I don't even know anyone anymore except you.
I wanted to go so badly, John, you've no idea. I wanted it with all my heart and they said that I could, they both accepted me and said that I would do well there. I had my choice.
Goddamn him, Goddamn him to Hell. I hate him I wish that he had died instead if my mother. I hate him.
I wanted to go so badly and I can't and now I'll be stuck in that damn village and will never go anywhere or see anything for all my life. I'll live there and I'll die there like he is.
I hate him.
The headmaster said that I'm the brightest student he's ever seen, that to not go is intellectual suicide for me and he's likely right, but I'm from a poor family and there's nothing for it. My father's idea is that I apprentice to the damn barrister. Can you see me doing that? Me in some courtroom arguing about whose cow broke through someone's fence?
I would work in his surgery, if he would have me. I would be good at that, I think, but he will not have me. He says that I would just be underfoot, yet he hired Steven from the village instead of me. He pays a stranger to do what I would do for free.
God, John,. I hate him, I truly do. I never thought that I would feel the emotion that I do, but I would wish him dead as he wishes the same of me. Why must I be tied to him? Why cannot I just leave him and the village?
I ask myself this over and over again and I find a different answer every time I ask the question. I don't know the right one. I wish that I did.
I think that there is some part of me that wishes that my father loved me, even a little. I know, that sounds foolish and childish and we are no longer children, but is it so wrong to wish that a parent would love their child?
If I ever have a son, I will love him, I swear this, John. I do. I will love him and be there when he needs me and I will help him and I will be sure that he knows that he was wanted and that he is loved. I swear this.
If my mother hadn't died it would all be so different, I'm sure of this. She was so different than he is. You know what she was like, kind and so much more than he is. I wonder why she married the bastard.
Oh, God, John. I wanted this so much, you've no idea. I wanted this with everything in me and I can't do this and I wish that he were dead. If he was I could go, then I'd be an orphan and he wouldn't have control over me.
I've not cried since the day I arrived here when I was five, but I cry as I write this to you and I don't care who sees that I do.
God, John, why is he like this?
I leave to come back to the village in a couple of weeks. I will see you then.
H
Deer Horatio, 6 June 1793
Wen you get bak, sta with us on the farm. You dunt hav to sta with him if you dunt want to.
Your frend, John
Dear Johnny, 10 June, 1793
Thank you. Yes. I'll be there probably on the 14th.
You have always been my best friend.
H
9/28/02
7