THE JUNIOR ON HILLS.
On—Mizmaze—The Badger—Swimming Lessons—Practical Jokes—Trial
for Assault—Town and Gown Row.
Soon after morning chapel on a Holiday or Remedy all the boys assembled
at “Gates”—_i.e._, in seventh chamber passage—each boy choosing a
“Socius,” or companion, as in marching “on to Hills” we always walked
two and two, College first, and Commoners after. At the word “On” from
the Præfect of Hall we started off at a quick pace, the Præfects walking
on the road, the rest on the footpath. The former had the privilege of
calling “off” an Inferior to walk with them, as they were allowed to
range the country; whereas the others were confined to the top of St
Catherine’s Hill. On we went, the small College boys at a sharp trot to
keep up with the long steps of the bigger ones in front, and urged on by
the Commoners behind, round the corner of Warden’s garden, where some boy
would duck under the rails, and dart off to Bungy’s for strawberries and
cream, or sausages, according to the season, taking his chance of another
and very different kind of refreshment if caught in the fact; then over
Blackbridge, past “Commoner’s field” and “Domum tree,” over the three
stepping-stiles (to be able to jump which, both going and returning,
was a great object of ambition to an enterprising Junior) to Tunbridge,
where (if names were not to be called at the top of Hills) the Præfects
and their “Teejays” went off on their own devices, and the rest up the
steep ascent of St Catherine’s Hill. Here the latter amused themselves
by playing cricket, rounders, or football, according to the time of
the year or state of the weather, plying the “Mousedigger” (a kind of
diminutive pickaxe) in search of mice, or threading the intricacies of
“Mizmaze,” a labyrinth supposed to have been cut in the turf by the
author of “Domum” during the holidays, when he was forced to remain in
Winchester instead of going home. The legend further declares that he cut
the verses of Domum on the bark of the tree which still bears the name,
and then committed suicide. By and by the voices of the three Juniors
calling Domum, (two of whom had to make the circuit of “Trench,” and the
other cross the summit of Hills,) warned them that it was time to go
“on,” when, at a signal from the Præfect of Hall below, we rushed down to
Tunbridge, and were marshalled on our way home. If violent rain came on,
these proceedings were dispensed with, and we were allowed to find our
way home as fast as we could; this was called “Skirmishing on.”
Such was the usual routine of the Inferiors on hills; but the Præfects
and their Teejays had a more lively time of it. For them there were
ducks and green peas at Twyford, bathing in “Pot,” (if summer time,)
a foray on the young rooks, chariot races, and, last and greatest, the
chase of the immortal badger. If one can’t follow a fox on horseback, one
may do worse than follow a badger on foot—that is, if one’s lungs and
legs are in as good condition as ours used to be in those days. At some
appointed meet, “Turner,” the badger provider, clad in a rusty velveteen
shooting jacket, with a cur or two at his heels, and the noble animal
in a sack, used to meet us. On the mouth of the sack being opened, away
went badger at a steady enduring pace across the downs. He did not run
extremely fast, but then he could go for ever. His strong point was going
up a steep hill, when he could beat the fastest runner; going down hill
he was not so brilliant. We generally gave him one hundred yards start
before we followed, Turner bringing up the rear with the dogs in couples.
Sometimes, instead of crossing the downs, he would make for the water
meadows, and then the runs were more exciting as he took to the water
like an otter; and as with the old and new barge river and mill streams,
there were several pieces of water of some breadth and depth to pass,
our swimming as well as running powers were called into play. When we
had had enough, the dogs were let loose and the badger stopped. Turner’s
excitement at this moment lest his badger or dogs should receive any
injuries was intense, and indeed with some reason, as a badger and dog,
locked in an embrace, require great persuasion to make them forego their
hold. He used to throw himself on the combatants, and eagerly exhort some
of those up to “lay hould of his tail,” while he himself would chew away
at that of the badger or of any dog that would not quit his gripe. The
badger being extricated from the dogs, or the dogs from the badger, as
the case might be, he was returned to the quiet of his sack again till
the next morning Hills.
These morning exercises produced considerable appetite. Before starting
for Hills we used generally to indulge in a pint of coffee and two
pennyworth of biscuits from Lacroix’s; then we not unfrequently ran to
Twyford as hard as we could put legs to the ground to regale on ducks and
green peas; which finished, we would just have sufficient leisure to run
back to College in time for the regulation breakfast, eked out with fried
potatoes, kidneys, sausages, &c. &c.
The time most looked forward to by the Juniors was “Long Meads”—_i.e._,
that time in summer when Toy-time was dispensed with—and we went every
evening (and on holidays in the afternoon also) on to Hills, or rather
to “Underhills,” as we did not go up St Catherine’s Hill, but ranged the
meadows below. On such evenings the Fag who was unable to swim would
have his education completed in that respect. The method of instruction
was well calculated for the end in view, but not, strictly speaking,
agreeable to the pupil. The course was much in this way:—Four boys would
take the tyro, one by each arm and leg, and, with “once, twice, thrice,
and away,” send him flying into the middle of “Pot”—_i.e._, a lock full
of water. On emerging half choked, he would be supported for an instant
by one or two other boys already in the water, and then, by an energetic
pressure on the shoulders with their hands, followed up by a kick when he
had descended to their feet, he would be sent to investigate the pebbles
at the bottom. A few evenings of this generally gave the victim a notion
of how to support himself in the water. An Inferior was not allowed to
bathe in Pot till he could prove his swimming powers by swimming from
Tunbridge to Pot, a distance of about a quarter of a mile. The other
favourite bathing places were “Milk Hole,” immediately below Pot; and
Tunbridge—_i.e._, that part of the river near the bridge of that name.
In the latter place I remember seeing some practical jokes played that
were nearly proving serious. In one case, a new boy, somewhat taller
and bigger than the average, and a good swimmer, when going to bathe in
Tunbridge for the first time, asked if it was deep enough for a header.
On being told that it was, he took a run and jumped in, and (the water
being low at the time, and even when full not more than four feet and
a half deep) cut himself severely about the face and chest. On another
occasion, one boy pushed another into the river, clothes and all, close
to the open hatch, through which the water was rushing furiously; he was
carried through a ten-foot brick tunnel, and rolled out on the stones
below; providentially he was not much hurt. Another practical joke,
of which Tunbridge was the theatre, was a more meritorious proceeding
than those previously described. There was a ruffian who was always
lurking about trying to sell spirits to the small boys. He had often
been threatened with condign punishment if caught. At last he was taken
in the fact, and summarily punished, by being thrown into Tunbridge. He
was a tall man, and the water, when he recovered his legs, did not come
higher than his waist; but that by no means prevented his swearing at
the trial that subsequently took place at Quarter Sessions, that it was
out of his depth, and he was nearly drowned. On his cross examination,
when asked how he got out, he admitted that he walked out. This trial
created a great excitement, not only in College, but in the town, and the
court was besieged by an excited mob, who were frantic at the treatment
that their brother had received from the bloated little aristocrats. I
am sorry to say that they triumphed, as the magistrates fined the boys
who were summoned £10 a head, which was immediately paid by the College
authorities; and it was rather a general opinion at the time, that if the
mob about the court doors had not been so clamorous, the fine would have
been somewhat less,—even if the summons had not been dismissed altogether.
I forget whether it was specially the result of this little incident, or
whether it was the casual development of a chronic irritation between
the boys and the “Snobs,” that produced a somewhat serious town and gown
row during my residence at Winchester.[11] There had been mutterings of
a coming storm for some time typified by occasional sets-to between
some individual boys and snobs, and forays by the latter on the clothes
or towels of solitary small bathers. The town party chose their time for
a demonstration with peculiar prudence. They waited till Commoners had
gone, which they did on the Saturday before Election week. On the Monday
following, the boys (now reduced in number to seventy, of whom at least
twenty remained in College preparing for the coming examination) went on
to Hills. They had not been there long before it became known that there
was a gathering of the enemy at Twyford; and expresses being sent back
to College that “Snobs were on,” and for the reserve to come up, we took
the initiative, and went to Twyford to anticipate the attack. We hadn’t
long to wait, and there was some very pretty fighting both in the way of
general skirmishes and individual mills. We got the best of it; and some
of the bigger boys, elated with success, determined to push up to the
stronghold of the enemy in the town. I was much too small for this part
of the campaign, and, with the other little boys, retired behind the
breastworks of College, where, by the by, we arrived very considerably
later than the regulation hour. I have heard heart-stirring accounts of
the heroic deeds of the heavy brigade, but not having been present I
cannot particularly describe them. I believe that they carried on the
attack bravely in the town for some time till overcome by numbers. The
boys retreated to a path which leads out of High Street down by the river
side to College, at the head of which (where there were two posts to
prevent carts passing) they took their stand, and for a considerable time
held their own gallantly. But at last they were obliged to break and fly,
making good their retreat into College, however, without anything like
serious damage. On numbering their forces, one boy was found missing, and
grave apprehension was entertained for his safety, which, however, was
soon dissipated by his unexpected appearance from the Warden’s house. In
the flight he had tripped and fallen into Bungy’s ditch, where he wisely
lay quiet till the throng of pursuers had rushed past, when he gently
strolled towards College, and opportunely meeting with a well-known
barrister who was taking his evening’s walk, he got him to give him a
lift over the wall of Warden’s garden, and was safe.
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