rival teams, in consequence of which Dr. Hawtrey once suspended all
play for three weeks, and in 1851 it was actually proposed to abolish
the annual match on St. Andrew’s Day on account of the ill-feeling
which was said to be engendered between Oppidans and Collegers. Of late
years, however, the historic contest is remarkable for the good-humour
shown by both sides. A quaint figure at the annual match from 1847
up to 1888, the year before he fell ill, was old Powell, whose
old-fashioned velveteen coat and high top-hat were survivals of another
age. During his long superintendence of the wall he had seen many
generations of Collegers and Oppidans contending for goals and shies.
After ten years of confinement and suffering he died in 1899.
The wall game is as different from any other form of football as it is
possible to imagine. To one unacquainted with its intricacies, nothing
can be more curious than the bully close up against the wall, and the
efforts of those forming it to prevent kicks sending the ball out--that
is to say, beyond the line marked as the limit within which play takes
place. The rules really amount to a sort of complicated creed, which
has been handed on from one generation of Collegers to another. A
good deal of the game is mystifying to a spectator unacquainted with
its intricacies. A “calx bully,” for instance, is highly difficult to
explain, whilst the necessary preliminaries for a “shy” at goals are
often, owing to the confusion of the struggle, visible only to the
umpire. The summit of a wall-player’s ambition is to throw a “goal,”
which feat, in the annual St. Andrew’s Day match, has only been
accomplished three times within the last hundred years--in every case
by a Colleger. W. Marcon threw one in 1842, when College won by a goal
and 19 shies, 17 of which were got by H. Phillott in rapid succession.
H. J. Mordaunt, captain of the eleven in 1886, threw another in 1885,
when he hit the door just at the bottom. [SN: A HISTORIC GOAL] The name
of this fine athlete, the writer (who knew him at Eton) is informed, is
still a household word in College, where his goal is held in greater
reverence than that scored in 1909. Mordaunt’s was an unaided effort,
whilst the latter seems to have been rather lucky. Nevertheless, Finlay
and Creasy deserved the greatest credit for their presence of mind. In
1858, it should be added, a throw by Hollingworth was disputed.
Though of all pastimes the wall game is least adapted for summer,
time-honoured usage prescribed--and after a discontinuance for four
years now once again prescribes--that at six o’clock on the morning of
Ascension Day a mixed team of Collegers and Oppidans should meet at the
“Wall.” The origin of this custom I have been unable to ascertain. Like
the game played on the last evening of last summer half, it probably
took its rise from boyish enthusiasm.
In connection with the wall game, the name of James Kenneth
Stephen--the gifted J. K. S., who in his prime was so unfortunately
snatched away by death--will never be forgotten. Captain of the College
team in 1876-1877, he was a great supporter of “noster ludus muralis,”
as he has left on record in his “Quo Musa Tendis,” one stanza of which
runs--
There’s another wall with a field beside it,
A wall not wholly unknown to fame,
For a game’s played there which most who’ve tried it
Declare is a truly noble game.
College, it is pleasant to know, seems unlikely ever to forget this
true son of Eton, for on the evening of St. Andrew’s Day each of the
wall team in turn drinks “In piam memoriam, J. K. S.,” every raising of
the cup as it is passed around being followed by a cheer.
A brilliant young contemporary of J. K. S. who played at the wall in
1880 is happily still left to us. This is Mr. A. C. Benson, whose fine
intellect and delightful achievements in the fields of literature have
rendered his name well known to that greater public which joins with
Etonians in admiration of his work.
College may well be proud of having produced two such men as these.
Till the middle of the fifties in the last century the wall game was
also played at the red brick wall in front of the boys’ entrance to the
house which about 1790 was built overlooking the Timbralls. For nearly
a quarter of a century after play had ceased to take place there, the
calces marked in chalk could still be discerned. The field game is a
rather modern institution. As has before been said, ordinary football
does not seem to have been very popular amongst Etonians of a hundred
years ago, though in the last century it gradually rose in favour. A
curious character of other days was old Strugnal, who was celebrated
for tightening the bladder of a football by means of blowing through a
piece of tobacco pipe placed in his mouth. On the whole, the annals of
Eton football, a primitive form of which in the eighteenth century was
known as “goals,” with the exception of some exciting house matches, do
not possess any great interest.
[SN: CRICKET]
Cricket, unlike football, was popular at Eton over two hundred years
ago, having been played as early as 1706, and in high favour in
Horace Walpole’s day. About the first great Etonian cricketer was the
eighth Lord Winchilsea, who afterwards became chief patron of the
famous Hambledon Club. At one time he made an attempt to introduce an
innovation by increasing the stumps to four, but the change was never
popular, though in the match between the Gentlemen and Players in 1837,
in order to equalise the contest, the latter undertook to defend four
stumps instead of three. In 1751 three matches for £1500 were played
between the Gentlemen of England and Eton College, Past and Present;
the former won the stakes, winning two out of the three matches. The
players were dressed in silk jackets, trousers, and velvet caps. In
1791 Lord Winchilsea made 54 runs in a contest between Old Etonians
_versus_ the Gentlemen of England. This was played at old “Lord’s,”
where Dorset Square now stands. In the same year the school beat the
Maidenhead Club by four wickets. Keate was one of the seven Collegers
playing, and scored 0 and 4, while in the second innings Way “nipped
himself out” for 11. Five years later a match seems to have taken place
against Westminster on Hounslow Heath, in defiance of the Headmaster’s
strict orders; it resulted in the defeat of Eton and the flogging of
all the Eleven!
In those days there was a good deal of jollity in connection with the
cricket in the playing fields, and the boys were allowed to do many
things which would be thought very reprehensible to-day. Up to about
1827, for instance, a beer tent used to be allowed when cricket matches
were played. Two or three years later Eton cricket for some reason or
other admittedly deteriorated, a disastrous state of affairs which
was thus explained by one of the “cads” who used to hover about the
shooting fields: “Lord, sir, they never has won a match since the beer
tent got the sack, and never will no more.” This tent, where “beer
and baccy” were the order of the day before it gave offence to the
higher powers, was kept, at every match, by the veteran Jem Miller
for the accommodation of the “cads,” Broconalian Club, and other
loungers, and loudly and lustily did they cheer the boys with their
stentorian lungs. It was from this tent that one of the best bowlers
and batters Eton ever produced--in after years a prominent divine at
King’s--was encouraged by the deafening shouts of “Goo it, my dear
Harding; goo it, my dear boy,” when he scored 86 runs off his own bat
against Messrs. Ward, Vigne, Tanner, and others of the Epsom Club. It
was on this memorable day, too, that he made a tremendous hit over the
shooting-field trees, high in the air, of course, when a bargeman from
the tent, lost in amazement at the hit, thundered out, “There she goes
for Chessy [Chertsey] Church, by Jingo!” it being a prominent mark on
the river for the bargees.
[SN: “WATER BOILS,” “MAKE TEA”]
According to all accounts, cricket in those less strenuous days was
not taken any too seriously. Boys did not change their clothing to
play it, though they did so for football. Once during a match in Upper
Club a fight was reported to be going on in the playing fields, and
in a few minutes gentlemen, spectators, and cricketers not actually
playing scampered over Sheep’s Bridge, eager to witness the contest.
Formerly tea in Upper Club was made by fags. The well-known cries of
“Water boils!” “Make tea!” originated during this now obsolete state of
affairs.
Though all Bacchanalian gaiety had disappeared from the playing fields
by the middle of the last century, a somewhat free-and-easy spirit
still prevailed, and on the occasion of school matches there was
usually a good deal of fun, especially when Billy Boland--a celebrated
character and _bon vivant_ of the past, who was supposed to have been
the original of Fred Bayham in Thackeray’s novel of _The Newcomes_--was
present. He it was who once, after lunch during a cricket match between
the school and I Zingari, presented Dr. Hawtrey, the then headmaster,
with the Freedom of the Club in a deal box, and wound up a mock speech
with the toast: “Floreat Etona et vivat ‘Nitidissimus’ Hawtrey!” This
was peculiarly appropriate, for with his velvet-collared coat the
Doctor was the smartest of men and wore the best-varnished boots in the
world.
[SN: THE FIRST MATCH AT LORD’S]
The first regular match played by Eton against a public school appears
to have taken place in 1799, when an Eton eleven met Westminster at
old Lord’s. On this occasion Eton in their innings made only 47 runs.
Westminster then went in and scored 13, when the stumps were drawn,
with five wickets to fall. The match was said to be “postponed,” but
there is no account to be found of its ever having been resumed. Next
year Eton had an easy victory, making a score of 213 in one innings,
against Westminster’s 54 and 31. Curiously enough, the Collegers
at that time constituted the strength of the eleven and made the
biggest scores. Benjamin Drury, afterwards an assistant master, Joseph
Thackeray, and Thomas Lloyd, elder brother of the bishop, were the
bowlers. Poor Lloyd, who beat the Westminster innings off his own bat,
died after the holidays from the effects of a chill which he caught
during the match. This would seem to have been the last match with
Westminster.
The first Eton and Harrow contest took place in 1805 at Lord’s, when
Eton won in a single innings. On this occasion Byron made 7 and 2 for
the beaten school. Eight of the winning eleven (among whom was Lord
Stratford de Redcliffe) were King’s scholars. After this no authentic
record exists of any match till 1818, when Harrow beat Eton. Apparently
the whole thing was rather a fiasco; only two of the best Eton men
were present at Lord’s, the rest of the eleven being made up of such
Etonians as could be collected on the ground. In the following year,
however, Eton beat Harrow in one innings; in 1822 Harrow beat Eton. In
1832 Eton scored a great triumph, beating Harrow and Winchester each
in one innings. The match of 1841 was remarkable for the great innings
of Emilius Bayley, who made 153, up to then the highest score ever
achieved by any player in a public school match. Oddly enough, however,
that same year Eton was beaten hollow by Winchester. In 1846 Eton
repeated the great performance of 1832 and again vanquished Harrow and
Winchester each in a single innings. One of the eleven on this occasion
was J. W. Chitty (in after life the Rt. Hon. Lord Justice Chitty), who
played four years for Eton, in the last of which--1847--he was captain
of the eleven.
A great character well known to Eton cricketers of the forties was
M’Niven minor, who, Mr. Coleridge declares, in his interesting
recollections, was in Sixth Form, the football team, and the eight,
as well as in the eleven. Commonly called “Snivey,” this fine athlete
seems to have been very notorious for his wild eccentricities and
oddities of dress, which, however, in nowise impaired a universal
popularity.
During the fifties of the last century Eton cricket was not in a
very flourishing state. The smart thing was to be in the boats, and
“dry-bobs” were rather looked down upon till 1860, when a strenuous
effort began to be made to end the long series of reverses which
the school had sustained in its annual matches against Harrow. The
engagement of a professional cricketer and improvements in Upper Club
aroused great interest, and so much excitement was the result that
when in that year Eton made rather a good fight at Lord’s, all sorts
of absurd rumours were born of the indignation provoked by defeat. It
was said, for instance, that Daniel, the Harrow captain, was really a
professional in disguise--this was because he wore whiskers and a straw
hat!
[SN: “POCKETS”]
In 1861, when the late Mr. R. A. H. Mitchell, who afterwards as a
master did so much for Eton cricket, was captain, the match was
unfinished, and only in the next year did Eton score its first victory
against Harrow since 1850. The finish (like that of 1910) gave rise to
much excitement, and feeling ran very high, both sides indulging in
merciless chaff. The report that the Harrow headmaster--Dr. Butler--had
shortly before issued an order that all side-pockets were to be sewn
up, with a view to prevent slouching, gave the Eton boys an opportunity
of which they were not slow to take advantage, and accordingly the
ground resounded with yells of “Pockets” throughout the day. The hero
of the day was A. S. Teape, whose bowling did so much to win the match,
at the close of which he was accorded an enthusiastic ovation. A large
proportion of the spectators were quite carried away by excitement, and
several fights took place between members of the rival schools, whilst
two well-known Eton and Harrow “cads,” both pretty well “sprung,”
started a little mill on their own account, much to the amusement of
the onlookers. Probably the encounter was a prearranged affair, for
the old rascals took good care not to hurt each other, and reaped a
considerable harvest by sending the hat round afterwards. One of the
winning team that year was Mr. Alfred Lubbock, the great Eton cricketer
who became captain in 1863, in which year he made the magnificent score
of 174, not out, against Winchester. Every old Etonian should read
the book written by him some little time ago, one chapter of which
was contributed by his son, Mr. Robin Lubbock, K.S., a member of the
eleven of 1896-1897. A young man of high promise, he most unfortunately
met with an early death through a sad accident in the hunting-field.
The names of Lubbock, Lyttelton, and Studd will always be associated
with the history of Eton cricket. For six successive years--1861 to
1866--there was always a Lubbock in the eleven, whilst three Lytteltons
(one of whom was the present Headmaster) played at Lord’s in 1872, and
three Studds in 1877.
[SN: A CURIOUS “RAG”]
In former days there was often much rowdiness after an Eton and Harrow
match, which, for some unknown reason, seemed to send a certain amount
of hot-blooded youngsters almost mad. In the early eighties of the last
century the present writer witnessed a curious development of this
spirit. Returning to Eton in the evening after the match was over,
he found himself in a railway carriage filled with a number of boys
he did not know, together with one old Etonian, apparently a newly
joined subaltern of some cavalry regiment. For a little time after
the train had started the party more or less calmly discussed the
match, but all of a sudden the old Etonian, who was in a most excited
state, began to smash up the carriage, tearing down the hat-racks and
breaking the windows, in which work of destruction he was cheerfully
seconded by his companions, who eventually, when the train came to the
bridge over the river near Windsor, threw most of the cushions and
all the advertisement placards, which they had wrenched off, into
the river. The writer was the more struck by this scene on account of
the party not in any way suggesting that he should join in it; and as
a matter of fact, reading a paper and smoking (nearly every boy then
smoked when going to or leaving Eton), he sat undisturbed upon the
only cushion not thrown out of window. He was a very small boy at the
time, and the wreckers, who were big ones, treated him throughout with
great courtesy. The damage, owing to the great crowd of boys returning
to Eton, was apparently not discovered by the station officials on
the arrival of the train at Windsor, nor was anything heard of it
afterwards by the school, though the writer has reason to believe
that some other carriages were also wrecked on the same train. In all
probability the authorities, aware of the impossibility of detecting
the offenders, preferred to let the whole matter rest. It was a curious
instance of the passion for destruction which occasionally takes
possession of youth.
The first match between Eton and Winchester seems to have been played
in 1826, when Winchester won. Afterwards, up to 1854, it was played
at Lord’s. Success was pretty evenly divided till 1845, when a tie
produced great interest and excitement. In that year the late Provost,
Dr. Hornby, was a member of the Eton team. In old days the Winchester
boys played in tall white beaver hats, but the Etonians wore straw. In
1856 the match was played at Winchester, neither school being allowed
to come to town, and since then the elevens have met on the Eton and
Winchester ground alternately.
Sixpenny, which appears to have taken its name from the Sixpenny Club,
founded for Lower boys by G. J. Boudier, 1832-1838, captain of the
eleven, an Etonian who is said to once have thrashed a bargee three
times his own size, was formerly a much-coveted Lower boy colour. It
was, however, done away with in 1898, but Upper Sixpenny is still an
important cricket colour for Uppers who are also Juniors, as it is now
the first colour a young cricketer can obtain at Eton, where, if you
once get a name as a promising bat, bowler, or field, it is difficult
to lose it, whereas if a boy does not start well, little attention is
afterwards paid to him.
A curious modern Eton cricket institution is “Second Upper Club,”
nominally the second game in the school, but in reality consisting of
Upper boys who are distinguished in the school, mostly in some other
line than cricket, though a number of quite good players also belong. A
few years ago some of the games played by Second Upper Club degenerated
into huge “rags,” ending with an early adjournment to little Brown’s,
whence, after a huge tea had been partaken of, every one went off to
bathe.
[SN: AGAR’S PLOUGH]
A feature of modern Eton is “Agar’s Plough,” just across Datchet Lane,
well laid out for the purposes of the school games. This large tract
of land was saved from the speculative builder by purchase in 1895, and
here, eight years later, for the first time was played the Eton and
Winchester match. As a cricket ground Agar’s Plough possesses several
advantages over the historic Upper Club, known in the distant past as
the Upper Shooting Fields. One of the chief gains is, of course, the
absence of big trees to confuse the light. Whether, however, Upper
Club is discarded for school matches or not, it will always remain a
hallowed spot in the recollection of old Etonians who as boys knew it
in its summer glory. Full of picturesque associations and shaded by
stately elms planted in the days of the Commonwealth, the beautiful old
ground has seen many a generation of Eton boys pass o’er its pleasant
sward of green. Besides Agar’s Plough modern Eton possesses other
facilities for games undreamt of in less luxurious days. Amongst these
are the new racquets courts near the gasworks which in 1902-3 took the
place of those down Keate’s Lane.
At the present day there is no tennis at Eton, but a tennis court
appears to have existed between 1600 and 1603, though, curiously
enough, its site has never been ascertained. Near the new racquets
courts thirty-eight new fives courts have been built since 1870.
The excellent game of fives, which has now attained a comparatively
widespread popularity, originated in the spaces between the Chapel
buttresses being utilised for play. The one next the flight of steps,
with its so-called pepper-box, is the model from which all modern
fives courts are built. The first of these were constructed at Eton
in Trotman’s gardens in 1847, and enjoyed great popularity in their
early days. Since, however, the number of fives courts has been largely
augmented, the old courts seem to have fallen into great disrepute. In
the writer’s day, although such new courts as existed were naturally
the most in request, boys still ran to obtain one of the old ones. It
was a rule that no court could be considered taken unless there was
some one actually upon it, to claim it by the right of occupancy. The
consequence was that they always became the reward of the swift, or of
those who were let out of school earlier than the rest; keen struggles
ensued, and the stream of runners flying down Keate’s Lane day after
day testified to the eagerness of spirit which could prompt boys to
exhaust themselves merely to obtain the chance of getting a game. It
was then the custom for the boy first in a court to mark his right of
possession by putting down his hat in it. The original fives court
between the buttresses of the Chapel had been long unused, though there
was sometimes a knock-up between Lower boys waiting to go into school.
[SN: COLOURS]
Colours at Eton, except those of the eleven and of the eight, which
in some form or other probably existed as far back as the eighteenth
century, are of modern origin. The parti-coloured scarlet and Eton blue
shirt of the field only dates from 1860, and the dark blue and red of
the wall from 1861. A year later saw the birth of house colours. About
the same time a great craze for wearing colours on every possible
occasion made itself felt. In old days boys had been supposed to shirk
masters when in change clothes, but now a tendency to run into an
opposite extreme produced an agitation in favour of greater laxity
regarding dress. The authorities, however, rightly deeming that Eton
should retain its old traditions as to tall hats and the like, stood
firm, every reasonable concession having long before that date been
granted. Only quite recently indeed have boys been allowed to answer
their names at Absence in change clothes, an innovation which many an
old Etonian, mindful of the ancient traditions of the school, must
surely deplore.
This chapter cannot be concluded without some reference to the Eton
Hunt, as the beagles have sometimes been facetiously called. The
pack in question would appear to have first been started about 1840
under the auspices of Anstruther-Thompson, in after life one of the
best-known and most popular Masters of Hounds in England. For some
years later its existence was rather precarious, at times resembling
that of a contemporary College pack which was once declared to consist
of a single long-backed Scotch terrier. From the earliest days of the
hunt, however, there appears to have been some attempt at a regular
organisation. The whips, for instance, had E.C.H. on the buttons of
their coats, which Dr. Hawtrey (Edward Craven), who of course knew of
the existence of the hunt, though he did not recognise it, interpreted
as a delicate compliment to himself. At one time the Collegers and
Oppidans each had a separate pack of their own, but these were
amalgamated in 1866.
[SN: HYSTERICAL SENTIMENT]