school-yard, with the exception of the space covered by the
headmaster’s room at the north end. It was originally built by
Provost Allestree, but so faultily that it had to be rebuilt under
his successor, Provost Cradock, in 1694. Though by some attributed
to him, the architect was probably not Sir Christopher Wren; yet the
style adopted, very different from that of the other buildings in the
school-yard, is that associated with his name. Though now only rarely
used, Upper School was formerly the principal class-room of Eton, and
at the beginning of the nineteenth century no less than 400 boys were
taught there at the same time. The ground floor beneath is now occupied
by rooms which in the last century were considered quite good enough to
accommodate large “divisions,” but have now been turned into a “school
office,” a porter’s lodge, and store-rooms of various kinds. On the
floor above is the “Upper School” itself, approached at the south end
by a fine staircase--a well-proportioned room, lined with oak panelling
which has served for the recording of many Eton names, and adorned
with the busts of Etonians who have served their country. The first of
these busts was put up in 1840, when the Marquess Wellesley presented
his to the school--his brother, the Duke of Wellington, shortly
afterwards following his example. Most of the great Etonians are here,
including Shelley. It is said that when the idea of erecting the poet’s
bust was first mooted, Dr. Hornby objected, saying that Shelley was a
bad man, and he only wished he had been educated at Harrow. The memory
of this poet--in former days, at least--was not held in any particular
respect by the vast majority of Etonians, most of whom held much the
same views about him as have been attributed to Dr. Hornby.
Some thirty years ago, when the subject of the amenities of Eton was
being discussed by a House Debating Society, an Upper boy--now a
well-known Peer--brought the debate to a close with a breezy speech.
Eton, he said, was in his opinion a very good place; all boys were
happy there, or ought to be. As far as he could make out, all boys
always had been happy there, and he had only heard of one who wasn’t,
and that was “a boy called Shelley, who was a mad fool.” He then sat
down amidst applause.
An immense quantity of names are cut on the woodwork of Upper School.
Most of these are those of boys who became famous in after life. The
name of Charles James Fox, for instance, is to be seen beneath his
bust. Gladstone’s may easily be recognised among a number of other
names of the same family by the fact that there was not sufficient room
left for the whole name, and consequently the last three letters are
cut much smaller than the rest. Lord Roberts’s name is on the large
south door, and Shelley’s under Lord Wellesley’s bust, to the right,
and again high up, to the left, beneath his own bust. Gladstone’s name,
it should be added, is on the upper right-hand panel of the door which
stands to the left as you face the Headmaster’s desk in the Upper
School. His sons have their names cut on the same door close by. This
carving was not done by Gladstone himself, but by Dr. Keate’s servant
in requital for a fee. Originally boys, before leaving, cut their
names where they liked in Upper School. Later on, as in the writer’s
time, it was the custom on leaving to present the Headmaster’s servant
with a guinea to have this done. The present practice seems to be that
for half a guinea a specially appointed official cuts a boy’s name.
Close to Upper School, on the top of the staircase leading to the
Headmaster’s room, may be seen the name Lord Dalmeny cut twice on the
left, opposite the door; the older is that of Lord Rosebery, the newer
that of his son.
[SN: LOWER SCHOOL]
The original Eton schoolroom was the present Lower School, which
happily remains practically in its original state. The exact date of
its erection is uncertain, but it would appear to have been built
somewhere about the end of the fourteenth century. According to an old
tradition Lower School was once the College stables, and it was Sir
Henry Wotton who, when Provost, fitted it up with pillars, on which he
is supposed to have painted pictures of Greek and Roman authors for
the instruction of the boys. This quaint old room was formerly open
for its full length, and looked very picturesque with its double row
of oaken pillars supporting the floor of the chamber above, and deeply
recessed windows, the oaken shutters, as well as the pillars, graven
with the names of former Etonians. For two centuries it was the only
schoolroom. In recent times, for convenience of teaching, it has been
turned into three rooms by means of deal partitions. These, however,
being merely temporary erections, have not injured the ancient fabric
of the room. Many generations of boys have amused themselves by poking
pens and knives into the deep chinks of the pillars and spearing out
bits of paper that had been thrust in there by boys of bygone times.
Mr. Brinsley Richards has described how, as a boy at Eton, he extracted
the fragment of a play-bill, issued by a strolling troupe who performed
at Windsor Fair in 1769. In the writer’s day many a boy, unconsciously
imbued with that love of sending messages to posterity which is such a
characteristic of youth, would write his name upon a scrap of paper and
poke it deep into a hole or cranny.
Numerous names carved on the shutters and pillars of this room are
striking links with the remote past. The names in question, it would
appear, are in the vast majority of instances those of Collegers
elected from Eton to King’s. They begin on the westernmost window on
the north side, the earliest name discoverable being that of Kemp,
1577, somewhere about the middle of the shutter. On the first shutter
on the left-hand side of the third room is the mark of a name which
has been erased. This is supposed to have been that of Greenhall, who,
leaving King’s College, became a highwayman and was captured, hanged,
and dissected.
Samuel Pepys, who visited Eton in 1666, was very pleased with Lower
School. This favourable impression is recorded in his diary:--
All mighty fine. The School good, and the custom pretty of boys
cutting their names in the shuts of the window when they go to
Cambridge, by which many a one hath lived to see himself a Provost
and Fellow, that hath his name in the window standing.
Over Lower School was the ancient “Long Chamber,” now turned into
the junior Collegers’ dormitory. It once extended the whole length
of the school-yard, with the exception of the space occupied by the
Headmaster’s chamber at the west end, and that of the Lower Master at
the east. Its length was considerably lessened in 1844, and since that
time it has been divided by partitions into “stalls” or “cubicles,” so
that little of the original appearance of the interior remains.
When Long Chamber was broken up into cubicles, old Plumtre, one of the
Fellows, preached a sermon on the text, “And Elisha said, Let every man
take unto himself a beam, for the place we have made is too strait for
us.” Plumtre was a staunch old Tory, who hated the Reform Bill. For one
whole night he walked round and round the Eton cloisters, praying and
waiting for the expected news of its defeat.
[SN: THE CHAPEL]
The Eton College Chapel was built in 1441, the foundation-stone being
laid by King Henry VI. in person on Passion Sunday of that year. It
was finished by Waynflete, who was Eton’s benefactor till his death
in 1484. Owing no doubt to lack of means, the latter curtailed the
original design, which provided for a nave 168 feet long stretching
down what is now Keate’s Lane and finished the building with the
Ante-Chapel, which still remains. A wooden rood-loft was erected over
the chancel arch, with a crucifix between wooden figures of St. Mary
and St. John, whilst stalls and frescoes, ordered to be wiped out
in 1560, completed an interior which must have been beautiful and
picturesque. Lupton’s Chapel, in which is Provost Lupton’s brass, was
built by him in 1515. Here is now the tablet giving the names of those
who fell in the South African War.
At the time of the Reformation there was naturally a good deal of
iconoclastic destruction, and at the end of the seventeenth century
the Chapel had suffered severely from dilapidation and neglect. In
1699-1700, under Provost Godolphin, however, a general remodelling
of the Chapel had been undertaken, it would seem probable, under the
direction of Wren. In the course of the alterations the floor would
appear to have been raised, whilst the walls were covered nearly up to
the windows with panelling of simple though good design. A classical
organ-loft with fine decorative carving was at that time placed across
the choir near the second window from the west end.
During the eighteenth century the interior of the Eton Chapel
evoked nothing but praise, but with the mania for restoration which
characterised the Victorian era, some desire for drastic alterations
began to make itself felt. Whilst the general appearance of the
Chapel was dignified and stately, there were undoubtedly certain
disfigurements, the chief amongst them two great box-like pews at the
east end, specially allotted to the male and female College servants.
An elaborate altar-piece of inlaid wood, entirely concealing the east
end, though good of its kind, was somewhat heavy and out of place. Good
or bad, however, all the woodwork was soon to disappear.
[Illustration: Old Oak Panelling formerly in Eton Chapel, now in
Entrance Hall of Frampton Court, Dorset.]
[SN: “NOBS”]
In 1842, when the so-called Gothic revival first began to sweep
over England, destroying much worthy to be preserved and creating
comparatively little of artistic merit, it was determined to restore
the Chapel. At first this was limited to tearing down the classical
altar-piece, pews, and panelling at the east end and erecting
ponderous so-called Gothic altar rails, pulpit, and the like, all
of stone. These, however, were discarded a few years later, when, in
1847, a regular scheme of destruction and innovation was undertaken
by Deeson, one of whose chief artistic crimes was tearing down the
noblemen’s stalls, then standing against the walls at the western end.
Up to the so-called restoration of 1847, boys who were noblemen or
baronets used to occupy special seats of honour ranged along the Chapel
walls. When one of these privileged youths--known as “Nobs”--first
took his seat in one of these stalls he would, according to immemorial
custom, distribute amongst his neighbours small packets of almonds and
raisins, called “Chapel sock,” which were eaten in the Chapel itself.
These seats, finely designed with carving at the top, were ruthlessly
torn down, whilst no exact record of their appearance was preserved. A
considerable portion of the panelling, which formerly covered the east
end, adorns the hall at Frampton Park, Dorchester, but the writer has
been unable to trace the noblemen’s seats which were swept away to make
room for the present stalls.
The behaviour of the College authorities in having discarded work
of high artistic interest, probably designed by Wren, is much to be
deplored. The evidence as to Wren having designed the panelling is
not absolutely conclusive, but much leads one to think that he was
concerned in its design. The Mr. Banks, “surveyor,” whose name has
been preserved as the designer of the costly woodwork, is probably
identical with Matthew Bankes, “master carpenter,” who, under Wren’s
direction, carried out the interior decoration and fitting of
Kensington Palace, Hampton Court, and other historical buildings.
[Illustration: Carved and Decorated Organ Case formerly in Eton Chapel.
_Specially photographed for this work with the kind permission of the
Very Rev. Felix Couturier, Prior of the Dominican Monastery of St.
Thomas, Rugeley._]
[SN: THE OLD ORGAN CASE]
The huge organ-loft, about twenty-five feet in depth, was approached
by a flight of steps, which Provost Godolphin placed across the church
within the choir. This loft or screen was a very fine piece of work,
with fluted columns of oak, two of which are preserved in the Victoria
and Albert Museum, and elaborate carving, by Grinling Gibbons, much
resembling the one which still remains at Trinity College, Cambridge.
The organ-case, which, curiously enough, has hitherto escaped all
detailed notice in books about Eton, was of oak, and consisted of four
towers and three flats of pipes--the pipe shades, lower frieze scrolls,
side brackets and centre shield of arms being beautifully carved and
well designed, while characteristically English in style. Above was a
scroll ending in a point, for the carving of which Bird (who executed
much fine woodwork under the direction of Sir Christopher Wren) was
paid £24 in 1703. The organ itself, built by either William Smith or
Father Smith, was erected in 1700, and cost a large sum of money for
that day. This organ and its beautiful case is specially mentioned
in _Organ-Cases and Organs of the Middle Ages and Renaissance_, the
erudite and artistic work written and illustrated by the greatest
English authority on the subject, Mr. A. G. Hill, who speaks of the
old Eton College organ as being perhaps the best of all similar organs
still remaining in England. It may be mentioned that the example
formerly at Whitehall, and now in St. Peter’s Church at the Tower
of London, much resembles it. After the Eton Chapel restoration of
1844-1847 this old organ, with its beautiful case, was discarded in
order to make way for a new one which was placed half-way up the choir
on the south side. No one seems to have thought the old organ worth
preserving, and the case was eventually found by a member of the famous
organ-building firm of Hill, lying about in bits in the yard of those
who had taken it down. Mr. Hill at once recognised the high artistic
value of the magnificent woodwork, and, after the various portions of
the case had been fitted together, adapted it to a new organ, which
passed into the possession of the late Mr. Josiah Spode, of Hawkesyard
Park, Rugeley, who put it up in his hall. Mr. Spode left his property
to his niece, with a proviso that at her death a certain portion should
be applied to founding a monastery. This lady, however, preferred to
carry out this wish during her own lifetime, and, expending a far
larger sum than was stipulated by the will, founded at Rugeley the
Dominican Monastery of St. Thomas, in the beautiful chapel of which
the old Eton organ-case was put up. In connection with its history it
is curious to recall that this splendid specimen of Jacobean woodwork
was thrown out of the Eton Chapel because it was supposed to be “out
of place” in a Gothic building. The Chapel at Rugeley is a singularly
successful example of modern Gothic at its best, and the organ-case
accords perfectly with its surroundings. A feature of the old case,
adorned with scrolls and carvings lovingly wrought by the hand of a
master craftsman of a past age, is its heraldic embellishment, the
ornamentation including three shields bearing coats of arms. The large
central one at the top shows the Royal arms of England, enriched by the
legend “Honi soit qui mal y pense.” The smaller left-hand shield in the
hands of an angel at the bottom of the case bears the familiar arms of
Eton, whilst another on the right-hand side shows those of the sister
foundation of King’s.
After the Eton authorities had cleared their Chapel of all the old
Jacobean woodwork, they turned their attention to the roof, it being
at first proposed to construct a new one of stone. Happily, however,
fear of the Chapel collapsing checked such a scheme, and the architect,
Deeson, merely stripped the paint and plaster from the roof, whilst
adding some pseudo-Gothic cusping.
[SN: A RUTHLESS RESTORATION]
The interior of the Chapel as it appeared before 1700 in no wise
resembled that which we at present see. Mural monuments abounded about
the chancel; these, after being concealed by the wainscoting put up in
1700, were ruthlessly torn from their places by those responsible for
the restoration of 1847. Some of them are in the Ante-Chapel, others
were totally swept away. In the original Chapel there were probably
only benches at the east end, whilst low wooden stalls with miserere
seats occupied the place of the present seats crowned by canopies. The
only remnants of the ancient woodwork appear to be some old wooden
forms in the Ante-Chapel, on which boys now leave their hats. It is
recorded that in 1625 Thomas Weaver, a “Fellow,” gave “four strong
forms to stand in the aisles of the Church for the townsmen to sit on.”
The seats in question, it should be added, seem originally to have been
intended for the townspeople of Eton, who then attended the Chapel as
their parish church.
[Illustration: The Chapel before Restoration. _Engraved by D. Havell
after E. Mackenzie._]
Above the low stalls were paintings, and these in 1560 the College
barber was ordered to wash out; his account for the work (6s. 8d.) is
still extant. The barber, however, merely covered up the designs with
white paint or whitewash, and when the fine old stalls were removed the
paintings could be clearly seen upon the wall behind. In 1847, however,
in order to produce a surface capable of showing up the canopies of
the new stalls then in course of erection, the workmen proceeded to
scrape out all trace of the ancient designs, and they had already
finished this work of destruction at the top of the walls beneath the
string-courses when a Fellow of the College, chancing to stroll in to
inspect the work, saved the rest, some of which still remains behind
the modern panelling, of which the Eton authorities have certainly
very little reason to be proud. After the discovery there was for a
time some idea of leaving the paintings exposed to view, or at least
contriving an arrangement of sliding panels. Provost Hodgson, however,
objected to them as being “superstitious,” and they were consequently
permanently covered by the present panelling. The designs, which were
fortunately sketched before being covered up, have been described
as the finest of the kind ever discovered in England. They were in
all probability the work of some Florentine artist of the fifteenth
century. Each row of paintings was divided longitudinally into
seventeen compartments, alternately wide and narrow. Concerning these
Sir Maxwell Lyte, in his excellent history of the College, writes:--
The former contained historical compositions, the latter single
figures of Saints represented as standing in canopied niches. Most
of these Saints may be identified by their emblems. Under each of
the large compartments there was a Latin inscription, explaining the
subject of the picture, and giving a reference to the book whence its
story was derived. The works most frequently quoted were the _Legenda
Sanctorum_ and Vincent of Beauvais’ _Speculum Historiale_, one of the
earliest productions of the printing-press, which had already gone
through three editions before 1479. According to a practice which
prevailed extensively in the fifteenth century, successive incidents
of a story were often represented as forming only one scene, the
same figure appearing two or three times in different combinations.
The whole series was intended to exemplify the gracious protection
afforded by the Blessed Virgin, the Patroness of the College, to
her votaries in all ages and countries. No less than six of the
compartments were occupied by scenes from the life of a mythical
Roman Empress.
[SN: GROSS VANDALISM]
From first to last the so-called restoration cost over £20,000,
£5000 of which was contributed by Mr. Wilder. In reality it was no
restoration at all--merely a terrible act of vandalism, only exceeded
in lack of taste by the alterations carried out at the sister college
of Winchester some thirty years later, when all the priceless woodwork
was removed from the chapel. Within recent years this was sold for an
enormous sum, and is now at Hursley Park, not many miles away from the
College which it once adorned.
Besides the tearing down of the fine old panelling and the partial
destruction of ancient frescoes, in all probability a quantity of other
interesting old work was destroyed at the orgy of iconoclasm in 1847.
The only object of those in power at Eton at that time seems to have
been to destroy everything which recalled the past. They gloried in the
havoc they wrought within the Chapel, and in their “restoring fervour”
actually went so far as to tear up the black and white marble pavement.
It is to be hoped that some day this may be replaced. Would that some
portion of the fine old woodwork might be recovered and once again find
a place in the sacred edifice where for close upon a hundred and fifty
years it met the eyes of generations of Etonians!
In place of the stately old noblemen’s seats put up in 1700, Deeson
designed seventy oak stalls with carved canopies of modern Gothic
design. Each canopy seems to have cost £42, which, considering that the
artistic value of the stalls is exactly nil, is a large sum. It would
be interesting to know what the value of the noblemen’s stalls which
Deeson tore down would be at the present time!
Entering the Chapel through the screen, the first of the canopied
stalls on the right is that occupied by the Provost, that on the
left by the Vice-Provost. The second stall on the right was given by
the Fellows of King’s College, the third by Winchester College, and
the fourth by the President and Fellows of Magdalen College, Oxford,
like Eton connected with the memory of Waynflete. The Headmaster’s
stall is the seventeenth on the right, distinguished by the words
_Magister Informator_. Exactly opposite is the seat of the Lower master
(_Ostiarius_), who, however, usually attends Lower Chapel. A number
of the stalls given by Etonians or Etonian families have tablets with
inscriptions. Next but two to the Lower master, for instance, is a
stall given by the Cust family, of whom some eight generations have
been educated at Eton. Beneath the seat is to be found the genealogy
of all the Custs who have been at the school. The twenty-sixth stall
on either side are those of the chaplains (_Capellani Conductitii_),
known as “Conducts” at Eton. The last stall but one on the left was
given by James Rattee, the contractor for the stalls, and the one
opposite by Deeson, the architect, who no doubt thought that his
imitation Gothic was vastly superior to the stately work which he
treated with such contempt.
[SN: MACHINE-MADE GOTHIC]
Most of the alterations in the Eton Chapel were lamentable in the
extreme. Nevertheless they excited great admiration amongst many who
had sat there in its unrestored days. Apparently they were quite
satisfied that the fine old panelling, in all probability designed by
Wren, should be removed. One of these lovers of novelty wrote: “Those
who only know the Chapel in its present nobly restored state could
with difficulty go back to the simply glazed windows, bare walls,
and cold cheerless aspect of the whole interior in former times.”[5]
How such a “noble restoration” (consisting in the destruction of
every vestige of ancient woodwork in order to substitute a quantity
of machine-made-looking Gothic stalls and some poor cusping to the
roof) can have moved any one to enthusiasm it is almost impossible to
understand. Nor can the crudely coloured stained-glass windows be said
to be a great improvement upon the old plain glass, which at least
caused no pain to the eye.