THE JUNIOR IN MEADS.
“Watching out”—Cricket Reminiscences—Lord’s
Matches—Turf—Football—Six and Six—Twenty-two and Twenty-two—SS
and Trees—Fines—Sick-House—Gooseberry Fool—“Going
Continent”—Long Meads—Enlargement of Meads.
As I said before, I must confess that as a Junior I did not on the whole
look upon a holiday as a peculiar blessing; indeed I used to watch the
applicant for a Remedy with much interest, and profound was my secret
disgust when it was granted, and ill-concealed my satisfaction if it was
refused.
My reason for this was the unlimited extent to which “Watching out” at
cricket was enforced on us. I believe that this is now altered, the
time being limited to one hour on a school-day, and two on a holiday,
which amount is healthy for the boys, and very useful, inasmuch as it
initiates them into one of the most useful branches of a public-school
education—the science of cricket. But it is quite possible to have too
much of a good thing. I have been, on a Saint’s-day, (this, however, was
an extreme case, and did not occur often,) ordered down to watch out in
Meads early in the morning before breakfast, and not allowed to quit the
ground, (except to attend chapel,) till dark, the whole time without a
hat, often in a broiling sun; at breakfast time and one o’clock one of
the Fags would be sent up to bring down food, which we ate on the ground.
In order to effect this day’s work, we had (if we could not get leave,
and I think only three were allowed) to shirk Hills three times, for each
of which we were liable (if discovered, by names being called, as was
generally the case) to an imposition. And when the day’s entertainment
commenced by a big Præfect, about twenty-two years old, placing a boy
about ten paces behind the wickets as Longstop to a fast bowler,
pointing significantly to a spare stump stuck in the ground close by, and
remarking, with a savage scowl, “Now, you look here, you young ⸺, you see
that stump, the first ball you miss I’ll cut you in three pieces—body,
soul, and legs,” I think it will be admitted that to that Longstop at
any rate a holiday would not be regarded as a very great privilege,
especially when Nestor was not at all the boy (man, I should rather say)
not to endeavour conscientiously to fulfil any promise of the kind above
mentioned. I again repeat, this is an extreme case; and now, even if the
will were present, the opportunity would be wanting. Happy was the boy
who succeeded in making a catch, as in that case he was excused from
watching out for the rest of the day; still more serene must have been
the existence of the mustard and pepper keeper—the responsible duties of
which office relieved the fortunate holder from service in the field.
But what adepts we became in fielding under this rough treatment! I
would in those days stop a ball with my left hand, which, if I now saw
coming towards me, I should diligently avoid touching at all. So “there
is no cloud but has its silver lining;” and, perhaps, if in these latter
days Winchester has not held the laurels in cricket quite so firmly as of
old, it is in some respects owing to the mitigated apprenticeship served
by the boys in their Fagging days. This, alas! is not of much consequence
now, since it has been deemed expedient by the authorities to put an end
to the public-school matches at Lord’s, which tended so much to produce
a wholesome feeling of patriotic rivalry among the boys, and were always
looked forward to by all Wykehamists as the pleasantest rendezvous of the
year, where their spirits were refreshed by talking over past times with
old friends seldom seen but at those reunions.
I have heard, from the best authority, that the principal reason for no
longer permitting the Winchester boys to contend with Harrow and Eton
in the public arena at Lord’s is, that their parents complained that
they were put to great inconvenience by having to send up their sons to
London in the middle of the holidays, that they were put to considerable
expense, and the boys exposed to many temptations. These objections are
valid ones, I admit; but, I think, not insurmountable. As regards the
expense, I am certain that a fund could easily be raised that would cover
all the travelling expenses of the eleven for the next ten years; and as
regards the exposure of the boys to temptation, I am sure that, even if
they had no relations resident in London who could put them up, were the
want made known, hospitable doors would open in sufficient number, not
only to take in the eleven, but the whole school, if required; and the
boys’ proceedings would be as carefully looked after as if they were at
home. And I cannot doubt but that the old school is lowered in the eyes
of the public by its absence from the annual contest at Lord’s, and that
other schools will gradually usurp the position as one of the first in
England, which it has held for so many centuries.
I must, however, in justice, add that, from the present arrangement of
having the cricket-match with Eton played on alternate years at Eton and
Winchester, the boys themselves (excepting the eleven) certainly must
derive far greater amusement than they did heretofore from the knowledge
of the fact that the match was being played at London, where, besides
the eleven, there probably would not be half-a-dozen present. Now they
get two whole holidays; and when the match is played at Winchester,
half the Eton boys come over by railway, and are entertained in Hall,
so that the game is carried on in the presence of the two schools.
Notwithstanding this, I think that the annual contest of the principal
schools in the national game is an affair in which the interests of the
majority of Wykehamists ought to be consulted, and should take place in
the metropolis.
What a noble game cricket must be, when one loved it so much,
notwithstanding the previous training! What genuine excitement when
College and Commoners was played; what frantic shouting when Rapid got
well hold of a “Barter,” (see Glossary,) and sent the ball from “Spanish
Poplar,” right over Meads wall by “Log pond;” or when Cocky, from the
centre of “Turf,” landed one well into the middle of Commoners! They used
to hit hard in those days with a bat, as well as with a ground ash. How
_blasé_ one gets now-a-days! Oh for a quarter of an hour of genuine boy’s
enthusiasm!
Meads is always a pleasant spot to me. I played in a match there not long
ago against the garrison; but, alas! where was the fire that used to burn
within me! I got one run the first innings, and was bowled out first ball
by a slow underhand “Lob” (_tice_) the second; and when I attempted to
throw up the ball, it went ten yards wide of the wicket, my arm nearly
out of its socket, and I felt the pain in it for a week after. But I am
glad I got out soon, for I strolled round the old place, and inspected
all the well remembered nooks and corners; and the stones in the wall
so carefully smoothed and neatly carved with the names of past heroes.
Happy he who, on his return in after life, can find his unscarred; a sure
sign that he had left a respected name behind him. There was Amen Corner
still unchanged; I could even discern faint traces of
“S̄alvĕ D̆i|vā P̄o|tens”
that we chalked up years ago in honour of “Young Sadnose’s” powers of
scanning. Log pond, with its Champions, still exists, but much shorn in
its dimensions, and a row of trees planted in front. “Non Licet gate’s”
hinges looked as rusty as ever, (it was supposed only to be opened
when a boy was to be expelled.) Spanish Poplar was gone,—blown down by
a gale. How well I remember, when a small boy twelve years old, on my
first appearance in Meads, seeing “Long John” and ten other men pulling
at a condemned limb which was half sawn through, when the rope suddenly
snapped, and they all in an instant subsided on their backs in the middle
of Turf; how I rolled with delight at the scene! Since then I have often
rolled with delight, as well as from other sensations, in the old green
Meads; one had one’s trials and difficulties, yet, on the whole, I doubt
if I have ever been much happier.
About two acres in the centre of Meads was slightly raised above the rest
on a chalk foundation, and covered with turf, which was most carefully
kept, and constantly rolled, and in winter fenced all round. This, which
was called _par excellence_ “Turf,” was kept sacred for the use of the
Præfects and the first eleven, (called Senior Match;) except two corners,
which were allotted to Middle and Junior Match,—the former consisting of
the second eleven and Senior part, and the latter of the third eleven.
But I must now proceed to Football, a game I like (or rather, used to
like) far more than cricket. The reason is simple; I was a tolerably good
hand at the former, and rather a muff at the latter. Of all the games
of football that I have seen, I think none can compare in interest to
the Winchester “Six and Six.”[8] I hate the crowded games of twenty or
thirty a-side, where for one kick at the ball you receive a dozen on your
shins. In “Six and Six” your powers of pluck, endurance, strength, and
speed are constantly called into play; it is not all weight and hustling,
but speed and scientific kicking, that win the day. Kicking the ball up
into the air was considered very bad play, except when the ball had been
previously caught before it had touched the ground, when it was allowed,
_i.e._, if the kicker could get the chance, before one of the other side
was down upon him.
Our costume consisted of a jersey, flannel trousers, “Beeswaxers,”
(lace-up boots,) or “High-lows,” (low shoes,) with two or three pairs of
“Worsteders,” (thick worsted stockings,) the feet of all but one pair
being cut off.
Every day, during middle school, the two senior Præfects who intended to
play made out the “Roll” (list) of the side,—one was headed “Ad Rubrum
Murum” (which meant that that side was to kick towards Sick-house wall,)
and the other “Ad Foricam,” (_vice versâ_.) But Football wasn’t all beer
and skittles to the Fags. There was an institution called “Kicking in,”
which, while it lasted, was much worse than watching out at cricket,
although it had the very great merit of not continuing so long; for
even on a whole holiday we seldom had more than two hours of it. It was
managed as follows:—The ground for the game was marked out by two rows of
Juniors, who were obliged to keep exactly in line and prevent the ball
from passing outside them, or if it did, to put it back again. Midway
between each of the two ends of the line was stationed another boy, as
umpire, (“Goal,” he was called,) who stood with his legs wide apart, and
a gown rolled up at each foot: if the ball was kicked directly over his
head, or between his legs, without his touching it, it was a “Goal,”
and scored three for the party that kicked it; if directly over one of
the gowns at his feet (a “Gowner”) which counted two; or if it passed
between either of the gowns and the last boy of the line on that side, (a
“Schitt,”) one.
We used also to play large games, occasionally with twenty-two a-side,
which I did not much admire. The biggest boy on each side stood opposite
to each other, the remainder pressing up close round, with their heads
and bodies down in a compact mass; then, just to encourage them, the
captain would drop his great fist on their backs, with a mild injunction;
and the ball being deposited in the middle, the struggle began. This
was called a “Hot,” a very appropriate appellation. After surging
tumultuously about for a time, some boy would emerge from the mass with
the ball before him, when it would be kicked about a little, till it got
out of the line, when another “Hot” would be formed, and so on.[9] We
used to have annual matches with Commoners, six a-side, and also with
twenty-two; one of the proudest moments of my life was when I was first
unexpectedly told that I was to play in “Six and Six.”
The Juniors did not get much fun out of the regular games, as their part
consisted solely in kicking-in the ball, and receiving divers kicks and
“clows” in return for their vigilance; in the afternoons on holidays,
however, they used to get a kick at a ball on their own account, as there
was a kind of perpetual scratch game, without chosen sides, going on;
this was called “SS and Trees,” from two trees being the goal at one end,
and two iron clamps in the shape of two SS fastened in the wall at the
other.
Football at Oxford, (where Winchester, Eton, Harrow, Westminster,
Rugby, and various “T’other Schoolmen,” _i.e._, those who had not been
at a public school, used to play together, each with different rules,)
occasionally gave rise to some amusing incidents. On one occasion I saw a
Rugby man catch the ball, and, with a complacent smile, was then taking
a little run to give impetus to his intended kick off, when Podder, hot
from Winchester, darted out, and with one dexterous turn of his leg, laid
the Rugbean flat on the ground, and before he could scoop the mud out
of his mouth, and compose himself to articulate ejaculation, Podder had
carried the ball to the other end of the ground. It subsequently appeared
that by Rugby rules no one was allowed to interfere in such a case,
whereas at Winchester he who had caught the ball might kick if he could,
and if any one ran at him to interfere, he might then run away.
Football, though a splendid game for boys, does not do in after life, as
it requires constant practice both in running and the art of kicking.
About three years after I left, I was passing through Winchester,
and went down to College to play football, expecting to enjoy myself
immensely, and to explain to the degenerate youngsters how football used
to be played in our time. The first fair kick I got at the ball I missed
it altogether, and nearly kicked my own leg out of its socket; the
second time, remembering my previous failure, and determining to be more
careful, I buried my toes in the ground, just short of the ball, which
never moved, while my ancle nearly snapped across with the shock; the
third time I kicked well into the back of the tendon achillis of my other
leg, and was carried off howling. Since then I have confined myself to
looking on at football.
Fives we used to play against the back of school, which formed a spacious
“Ball Court.” The bat used is, I believe, peculiar to Winchester; it
was about two feet and a half in length, the part with which the ball
was struck expanding to about the size of a small lady’s hand, and
immediately above it the wood was planed thin, thus forming a powerful
spring. With this instrument the ball could be driven with great force;
and I have known it used for other purposes, for which it was very
effectual, though not very agreeable to one of the parties in that game.
One boy, I remember, kept a bat which he consecrated solely to this
amusement, and to the back of it he had nailed a donkey-shoe, which gave
great weight to his arguments. The balls used were small, about the size
of a large grape-shot, and cost sixpence a piece, which made the game
an expensive one; as, if the ball passed to the right or to the left of
the school wall against which we played, it vanished altogether from our
ken,—if it went to the left it went into Long-meads or Commoners, and if
to the right into Cloisters. We could, however, generally purchase back
at half-price from Long John about one quarter of those lost. Long John
was the College mason, who was always wandering about with a satellite
looking for something to do, but beyond occasionally scratching a brick,
I scarcely ever saw him doing anything like work. If asked what he was
doing, he always said, “Nothin’, sir;” at which occupation the satellite
was a most efficient coadjutor.
The Winchester “Bat-fives” was amusing enough when played in a
promiscuous way, but not, I think, a really good game, as it was too
difficult. I have scarcely ever seen even the best players return the
ball more than three or four times. The Fag’s share of the game was to
stand round the edge of the court and pick up the balls as they rolled
off; it was not nearly such hard work as watching-out at cricket, or
kicking-in at football, and the work being easy it did not entail so much
punishment; but it was far from pleasant, owing to the blinding glare
from the white concrete of which the floor was made. Mr Ridding, formerly
second Master, has most liberally built some excellent racket courts,
in what used to be “Long Meads,” but is now thrown into “Meads,” to the
great advantage of the boys.
A long red brick wall ran across Meads on the west side, in which
there was a door that led to “Sick-house,” situated in a field called
“Sick-house Meads.” It was presided over by a worthy old matron named
“Mother Maskell.” Her kind face is no longer there to soothe the invalid;
and I hope, for the sake of the boys, that her successor inherits, with
her other good qualities, her receipt for gooseberry fool. How we used
to scent it from afar; and the moment a fresh brew was ready, what a rush
to Sick-house! How we slid over the gate, which formed no barrier in
such a case! There were two kinds, “Husky” and “Non-husky;” the former
was decidedly the favourite, and the consumption was really alarming.
Notwithstanding this there were few of us ill in those times, and one
half of the number “Continent” were generally “Shuffling,” and the other
laid-up with wounds received in athletic exercises. One boy, I remember,
broke his arm three times in one year; the last time, the Master under
whom he was made him write out all the lessons that he would have had
to do if he had been in school, suggesting that he had broken his arm
on purpose to escape them. Certainly being “Continent” was an agreeable
change for a Fag, as he had no lessons to do, and escaped all fagging,
except from such Præfects as happened to be Continent also, and he also
got a “Thoke” in the morning till nine o’clock. When a boy was really ill
he slept at Sick-house. I only remember doing so on one occasion myself,
and that was when I caught the measles in the remarkable way above
mentioned, (_vide_ p. 127.) This was a very jolly period. I had them very
slightly, and there were four of us in a room together—Rasper, Badger,
Bumpus, and myself, and I was then, for the first time, initiated in the
mysteries of the science of Whist; one of us, who was the least unwell,
used to deal and collect the cards, which we threw into the middle of the
room as we played.
As I mentioned before, when a boy felt ill, or inclined to quit school
for a period, he had to get leave Continent,[10] which was done by
sending a boy in the morning first to get leave from his tutor, and then
from the Head Master; and when he returned to his school duties he was
said to “come abroad.”
During Long half all the unoccupied rooms in Sick-house were occupied
by the senior Præfects as private studies; and each of them chose a boy
as a “Reader,” whose nominal office was to read aloud the “English” of
any Greek or Latin author his master might be studying. This was a much
coveted appointment, as the fortunate possessor was exempt from all
fagging.
There was another field between Sick-house Meads and Commoners belonging
to College, called “Long Meads,” which, to the best of my belief, was
only used to feed the Fellows’ cows. This is now thrown into Meads; and
if Sick-house Meads could also be added, what a magnificent playground it
would make!
It has been, I believe, often suggested that the boys at Winchester were
not allowed sufficient exercise in the open air. I do not think there was
any ground for this complaint as regards the College boys at any rate,
who were sent at least three times a week to the top of Hills, besides
having Meads close at hand during all play hours. Commoners were not
so well off, as they only had one hour on school-days to breathe fresh
air, in which time they had to walk half a mile out and back to the
indifferent field forming their gymnasium; doubtless they now have access
to Meads.
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