Eton beagles, and sometimes very good runs were enjoyed. One of the
“cads” about the wall, known as Polly Green, an active fellow who used
to go across country uncommonly well, afforded very good sport. At
that time the beagles had not been recognised by the authorities, and
were kept more or less secretly a good way out of bounds, in a small
kennel at the corner of the Brocas near the river. Eventually, however,
the pack became known to every one, including the masters, who, with
great good sense, far from discouraging it, gave it encouragement
and approval, and thereby raised the character of the sport whilst
increasing its popularity in the school. In 1884 the mastership of Lord
Newtown-Butler--now Major the Earl of Lanesborough--was particularly
successful, this gallant and popular Guardsman having ever been the
incarnation of geniality and good-natured fun. There is no need to deal
here with the absurd agitation of so-called humanitarians for the
pack’s suppression. Suffice it to say that the greatest credit is due
to the present Headmaster for having refused to listen to the voice of
hysterical sentimentalism. May his successors be equally firm!
FOOTNOTE:
[11] Those interested in this period should not fail to read _Eton in
1829-1830_, a translation of a boating diary written in Greek by Thomas
Selwyn. The translator and editor, the present Provost of Eton, Dr.
Warre, D.D., M.V.O., well known to several generations of Etonians as
Assistant and Headmaster, did more than any one else to improve Eton
rowing.
X YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY
The old type of Eton Masters and Fellows is now practically extinct,
but thirty or forty years ago quite a number of them were still
flourishing. Not a few were quaint and eccentric figures both in their
appearance and their ways. About the quaintest of all was the Rev. F.
E. Durnford, universally known as “Judy,” who was Lower master from
1864 to 1877. He has been aptly described as “a sort of Ancient Mariner
in academic garb,” for he had a strange weather-beaten aspect, the
result, no doubt, of having for many years battled with successive
hordes of impish Lower boys--“nahty, nahty boys,” as he called
them--much of whose time was occupied in giving the good old man all
the trouble they could. Mr. Durnford, though he could never master the
pronunciation of French, was somewhat fond of interlarding Gallicisms
in his discourse, which, of course, never failed to arouse unbridled
merriment. He himself was perfectly aware of his imperfections as a
linguist, and would at times attempt to allay such outbursts by the
somewhat pathetic remark, “Ah, boys, it’s my misfortune, not my
fault.” He was a very good-natured old man, whose main failing perhaps
was being inclined towards an excess of leniency, in which respect his
successor, the Rev. J. L. Joynes, erred far less.
[SN: “OLD JIMMY”]
This pedagogue, though the most kindly of men, would stand no
nonsense. Many will remember him in Lower School, with the picturesque
interior of which, full of old woodwork cut with the names of vanished
generations, his personality accorded so well. He had rather a peculiar
voice, and pronounced words like “tutor” and “nuisance,” “tootor” and
“noosance.” Rather a better preacher than most of his colleagues,
his sermons in “old Lower Chapel” were sometimes marked by a certain
originality which caused them to be listened to with interest and
attention. In his school days “Jimmy Joynes,” or “old Jimmy,” as he was
affectionately called, had been captain of the College team at the wall
and a fine fives player, and as a master he continued to take great
interest in the latter game, giving a cup to be played for by the house
over which he presided before becoming Lower Master. In the latter
capacity, though an extremely kind-hearted man, he could, as was well
known to the boys under his charge, be severe enough upon occasion, and
the writer well remembers seeing him administer what was considered a
tremendous flogging to a delinquent, who afterwards had a distinguished
military career. This consisted of some thirty-two cuts laid on with
two birches, to the great astonishment of a number of Lower boys
present at the execution. The victim, a boy of great pluck, was little
disturbed by this castigation, though it was very much more serious
than most of the many floggings he had suffered before. As a matter of
fact, it was only the swishings of the Lower master which inflicted
any real physical pain, the few strokes which the Head, Dr. Hornby,
administered being generally more in the nature of a formal reproof
than anything else--at least that was the experience of the present
writer, who well remembers that on retiring from the torture-chamber
next Upper School he reflected that if one was to be flogged at all,
the thing could not be conducted in a more pleasant and dignified way.
[SN: DR. HORNBY]
In his relations with the boys Dr. Hornby was ever a great gentleman,
as the following incident, which occurred during the writer’s Eton
days, will show. Two of the sons of a celebrated potentate were then
at the school, and Queen Victoria took the warmest interest in them;
the eldest, in particular, was a great favourite of hers. One day,
owing to some untruthfulness in connection with work, this young
Prince was complained of, and though he might have got off by claiming
“first fault” owing to forgetfulness, was soundly swished. At the
same time he received a severe, though kindly lecture, in which the
“Head” pointed out how such behaviour would pain his parents and the
Queen, were it ever to reach her ears. Curiously enough, that very
evening Dr. Hornby happened to be dining at Windsor, and as usual his
Royal hostess did not fail to make particular inquiry as to how her
protégé was getting on. What was the surprise of the young Prince
during the following morning to find himself once again summoned to the
“library,” and as he wended his way to the grim scene of correction,
he wondered what he could have done to be whipped again so soon. All
unpleasant anticipations were, however, quickly dispelled. In those
gently modulated tones which so many old Etonians will remember, Dr.
Hornby described how, on the previous evening, a certain great lady had
asked after her favourite Eton boy, and desired to be informed as to
how he had been getting on in the school. “I told you yesterday,” Dr.
Hornby went on to say, “that one lie always leads to another, and I am
sorry to say in the present instance this adage has not failed to hold
good, for,” added he, “I am ashamed to say that, instead of telling Her
Majesty of the disgraceful behaviour for which but a few hours before
I had been obliged to punish you, I said that you were getting on very
well. Under these circumstances I feel sure that you will do all you
can to give no further trouble, and so, by causing my words to come
true, make amends for the falsehoods which we have both of us uttered.”
The kindly admonition made a considerable impression upon the culprit’s
mind. Nevertheless, he could not help being amused when the next
Sunday, in Chapel, he heard the Doctor take as his text, “All men are
liars.”
In appearance Dr. Hornby was the absolutely perfect type of an Eton
Headmaster. Immaculately dressed, and of fine presence, he possessed a
natural dignity which even impressed boys totally lacking in reverence
for all other institutions of the school. His voice, low and not
unpleasant even when delivering a stem admonition, was essentially the
voice of an English gentleman of the fine old school. It was a real
pleasure to hear him call “Absence,” owing to the dignity which he
imparted to this tedious duty. Curiously enough, this Headmaster, who
in his latter years, at least, might have been called the incarnation
of the best kind of Eton Conservatism, had on his appointment been
regarded as a Radical. The first Oppidan, I believe, ever chosen
Headmaster, he had succeeded Dr. Balston in 1868, when the latter had
relinquished the post from disapproval of the various innovations and
changes which resulted from the recommendations of the Public School
Commission, the labours of which extended over seven years.
The growing worship of athleticism was in some measure responsible
for the appointment of the new Headmaster, though Dr. Hornby, besides
having been in the eleven, was also a fine scholar. When he first came
to Eton the school, used to the patriarchal sway of his predecessor,
who had strictly followed the traditions of the past, were rather
inclined to regard him as a dangerous reformer, but before long it was
realised that such Radical proclivities as the new Headmaster possessed
were not very likely seriously to impair the traditional round of Eton
life, and the school gradually subsided into a tranquil consciousness
that nothing outrageous would be perpetrated under the new “Head,” who
long before his retirement grew to be far more Conservative than some
of his subordinates; indeed, during his tenure of the Headmastership,
which lasted sixteen years, four Assistant Masters are said to have
left Eton owing to Dr. Hornby disapproving of some of their ideas. One
of these exiles was young Mr. Joynes, whose socialistic tendencies
obviously unfitted him for the post of an Eton master; another, Mr.
Oscar Browning, whose clever and genial personality is so well known to
numbers of old Etonians.
[SN: DR. BALSTON]
Dr. Balston remained at Eton as Vice-Provost, and I remember that
we regarded him with a good deal of sympathy as having preferred to
resign rather than to yield to meddling on the part of the governing
body, then still looked upon as rather a new-fangled affair. During
his short term of office he had refused to sanction any alterations
at all. Possessed of an unlimited respect for old traditions and
ways, his conception of a Headmaster was that he should exercise a
sort of dignified and patriarchal sway, whilst carrying out a solemn
trust to maintain things as they had always been. Whilst Head he had
borne himself with unbending dignity, being almost never seen out of
academic dress, in which, it was said, he even went to bed. The same
story, I believe, had been current in the days when Dr. Goodford,
familiarly known as “Old Goody,” ruled the school. Some indeed declared
that a gown and cassock were all he wore. As Provost, however, the
latter was seen about Eton in ordinary costume and invariably carrying
an umbrella. A quaint, queer figure this survivor of a past era looked
with his hat at the back of his head and hands covered with unbuttoned
black gloves much too big for him.
At that time the old Fellows who were still alive used to preach the
most lengthy and incomprehensible sermons in Chapel, but in that line
Dr. Goodford easily held his own against all. Owing to a peculiar
intonation, his mouth always seemed to be full of pebbles, and it was
practically impossible to make out one sentence of the vast number
which trickled from his lips. Nevertheless we rather liked the good old
man, whose curious sing-song induced sleep rather than irritation. Dr.
Goodford’s entry into Chapel with the aged verger, who on account of
the silver wand he bore was called the “Holy Poker,” was a thing which
many Etonians will recall to mind.
Amongst the Assistant Masters of some thirty years ago, about the
most conspicuous figure, owing to a long flowing beard, was the Rev.
C. C. James, for some reason or other known as “Stiggins.” He enjoyed
no great measure of popularity out of his house, where, it should be
added, he fed his boys better than almost any other tutor or dame. At
one period of his career he had narrowly escaped being thrown over
Barnes Pool Bridge by a riotous party of boys, and though no one seemed
to know the exact reason of this, with later generations it undoubtedly
led to his being regarded with a certain rather unjust suspicion.
[SN: “BADGER HALE”]
A far more sympathetic figure was the Rev. E. Hale, known to the boys
as “Badger Hale,” probably on account of his hair bearing some remote
resemblance to the coat of that animal. Besides being a cleric, Mr.
Hale was an officer of the Eton Volunteers. He was of great girth, and
when in uniform presented a really stupendous appearance, in which the
boys took great delight. At that time the Volunteers were perhaps not
taken so seriously as is the present Officers’ Training Corps, with its
more workman-like appearance and ways. Though there were occasional
field-days, the principal evolution of the 2nd Bucks was to march,
headed by its band, to the playing-fields. Founded in 1860, by the late
’seventies it had abandoned a good deal of its splendours, blue worsted
cord having taken the place of the original silver lace, whilst the
colours presented by Mrs. Goodford had ceased to be carried, the Eton
Volunteers being at that time a rifle corps. Now, however, that it has
become the Officers’ Training Corps, they have once more been taken
into use. The silver bugle given by Lady Carrington is presumably still
carried.
[SN: DR. WARRE]
The chief support of the Corps has always been its present Honorary
Colonel, the Rev. E. Warre, now Provost of Eton, who for many years
took a most active part in striving to maintain its well-being
and efficiency. Few have done so much for Eton as he; his whole
life, indeed, has been devoted to furthering the best interests of
the school. As an Assistant Master he was the avowed champion of
strenuousness and efficiency, whilst opposed to old ways and traditions
tending towards a slack state of affairs. A strong and dominating
personality, he was intensely popular with the boys in his own house,
but a good part of the school regarded him with a certain amount of
suspicion as entertaining revolutionary ideas, which it was said were
only kept in check by the firmness of Dr. Hornby, who in the last days
of his Headmastership was looked upon as the staunch defender and
champion of old Eton ways. In the minds of ultra-conservative Etonians
Dr. Hornby stood for Conservatism, as Dr. Warre did for change. Such
an estimate was not altogether without foundation, for after Dr.
Warre had succeeded to the supreme control of the school, a number
of alterations, some of them, no doubt, quite necessary, were made.
The general feeling amongst Eton boys at that time was Tory in the
extreme, and though we knew scarcely anything about him except that he
had flogged a good deal, I am sure that a great many of us would have
been delighted to hear that Dr. Keate, having returned to life, had
been entrusted with the task of reorganising the school with a view to
getting it back into the condition of the good old days.
On the whole the reforms made by Dr. Warre during his Headmastership
seem to have produced satisfactory results. Most of them dealt with
alterations in the scholastic curriculum of the school, all the old
customs open to criticism, such as “Oppidan Dinner,” having long
disappeared. Without doubt, under his rule the boys were made to work
harder than before, whilst its tone gained in manliness and vigour. At
the same time the traditional spirit of Eton remained unimpaired, and
before his retirement Dr. Warre, like his predecessors, had come to be
considered a bulwark of Eton Conservatism.
The Headmastership of the school would appear to have a sobering
tendency upon even the most advanced reformer, who at the end of
his term of office has generally lost his enthusiasm for innovation
and change. The present Headmaster is a case in point. When he came
to Eton a few years ago many were full of gloomy forebodings as to
the reforms he was about to make. Mr. Lyttelton was known to hold a
number of advanced views--rumour indeed declared that he would try
and force vegetarianism upon the boys and would make them wear Jaeger
underclothing, for which material he was declared to have a marked
partiality. On assuming office, however, he somewhat allayed these
fears by giving an address in which he announced that he was not
going to stop tap, interfere with clothing, or abolish the beagles,
to which he had been declared hostile. As a matter of fact, nothing
could have been more loyal than his behaviour in this latter respect,
for, far from discouraging the Eton Hunt, he has defended it against
the ridiculous attacks of various faddists and cranks. It is, however,
to be regretted that an agitator was two years ago allowed to address
the school on the subject of unemployment from the Chapel steps in the
school-yard. The vast majority of the parents of Eton boys do not wish
their sons to be taught Socialism, and the school-yard, so closely
connected with the old traditions of Eton, is the very last place where
any theories of this kind should be permitted to be aired. As a matter
of fact, the address, which under no circumstances could have done
good, merely provoked giggling. Nevertheless, it must be admitted that
in permitting such an innovation the Headmaster was merely animated by
that new spirit of philanthropy and altruism which seems to have found
a more useful form of expression in the Eton Mission, now, according to
all accounts, doing excellent work in Hackney Wick.
[SN: INCREASE OF INTERFERENCE]
All things considered, Mr. Lyttelton has been a more successful
Headmaster than many old Etonians expected, and has not made any
violent effort to interfere with the traditions of the school. Life
at Eton, however, without doubt is now more strenuous than of yore.
Leave has been greatly curtailed, having to be taken at an appointed
time. Besides this, of late a tendency seems to have arisen to exercise
more control over the boys in minor matters, as to which in former days
the authorities never thought of interfering. From time immemorial it
has been the privilege of members of “Pop” to sit on the low wall by
the trees, planted in 1753, especially on Sunday; a recent regulation
forbids any boy, whether belonging to “Pop” or not, from sitting on the
wall on Sunday. The reason for such a vexatious interference with an
old Eton custom is difficult to divine. A more reasonable exercise of
influence by the Headmaster has been his attempt to get the boys when
in Chapel to abstain from keeping their hands in their pockets when
standing up during the service. Such a practice is not forbidden, but
an address on the subject by Mr. Lyttelton is said to have produced a
great effect.
On the whole the masters of to-day would appear to possess more
influence with the boys than was the case in the past. Now, as then,
the most popular are those who are gentlemen--that is, using the
word in its best and proper sense. At the present time, owing to the
increased worship of athletics, proficiency at games is a powerful
factor in a master’s popularity, and genial eccentricity is also apt to
cause him to be liked; but fads, on the other hand, are not attractive
to boys, which makes it all the more remarkable that the present
Headmaster--a professed vegetarian--should have attained a fair measure
of success in presiding over the school. No doubt his fine record as an
athlete has had a good deal to do with this.
In the ’seventies of the last century the attitude of Eton boys towards
the “Beaks” (they are, I understand, called Ushers now), whilst not
actively hostile, was for the most part one of tolerant indifference. A
few of the masters, however, were on fairly intimate terms with certain
of the Upper boys, but the majority of the school knew and cared little
about those responsible for its education. Respect for constituted
authority has never been a salient characteristic of Eton boys, and
amongst the junior members of the school at least “drawing the beaks”
was then considered quite a legitimate form of amusement. A previous
generation, according to all accounts, found a never-failing source
of delight in lawless doings of this sort, whilst even Sixth Form
occasionally took advantage of the good-nature of Dr. Hawtrey, the most
urbane Headmaster, it is said, who ever wielded a birch.
Like his subordinates, he seems to have been not infrequently exposed
to attempts at “drawing” by his division. These, however, he generally
treated with good-humoured contempt. During one eleven-o’clock school
they once all became suddenly absorbed in the contemplation of the rose
from which was suspended one of the chandeliers of Upper School, and,
nudging one another, indulged in mysterious whispers, which eventually
caused Hawtrey to look up and ask, “Why, whatever is the matter?”
“First of April, sir,” was the reply, but the Headmaster remained
unmoved, and merely murmuring, “Silly boys,” bade one of them proceed
with their construing.
[SN: “SOMEONE MUST BE LAST”]
Dr. Hawtrey did not believe in forcing learning upon boys, and was
never unduly severe with laggards. “Somebody must be last,” was a
favourite consolatory remark of his when any derisive titter at the
last name in an examination met his ears. During his tenure of the
Headmastership there was much ease and freedom, for it was not in his
nature to be a martinet.
Full of good intentions and over-politeness to the boys, it was no
wonder that this pedagogue, a veritable prince amongst schoolmasters,
was very popular in the school. Whatever a boy said he professed, if
possible, to believe, and although his confidence was often misplaced,
this course had a salutary effect in fostering and cultivating a
gentlemanly spirit. At the same time his very figure was a caution to
evildoers, for he had a droop in his right shoulder which was supposed
to have come from a frequent and vigorous use of the birch. Among the
Lower boys he was generally called “Plug,” from some peculiarity in
his countenance, but the swells, by way of refinement, reversed the
name and used “Gulp” instead. The same kind of satirical humour led
to their ungallantly christening his two old sisters “Elephantina” and
“Rhinocerina.” These ladies had a sedan-chair in which they went to
parties--one of the last sedan-chairs probably used. Dr. Hawtrey had
a great liking for velvet collars, fine clothes, perfumes, and gold
chains; one of the school beliefs was that “Hawtrey stood up in £700,”
the stiff figure at which his boys assessed his studs, sleeve-links,
watch and chains, gold pencil and rings.
Boys are wonderfully astute judges of whether a master will stand
nonsense or not, and having discovered that a man cannot keep order,
are apt to bring the art of ingenious torment to a high pitch of
perfection. Old Etonians will recall the self-control and good-temper
shown by certain masters who had not the knack of making their
authority felt. Their divisions indulged in every kind of disorder,
such as breaking out into applause at some casual comment, and at a
prearranged moment commencing to stamp and sometimes even to sing.
The keyholes of their class-rooms were filled with small pebbles or
india-rubber, whilst various substances were put amongst the papers
upon their desk. The writer well remembers the astonished look on the
face of a certain master when, crawling laboriously towards him upon
his desk, there appeared a poor ink-soaked tortoise, which, to the
intense delight of the division, had at last accomplished the feat
of climbing out of the ink-pot, where it had surreptitiously been
deposited just as school commenced.
[SN: “NASCITUR NON FIT”]
Another master, who was very short sighted, was always having jokes
played upon him just under his nose. On one occasion it was declared
he had continued to dip his pen in the open mouth of a particularly
torpid toad, substituted for his inkpot, till the reptile, irritated
and aroused, jumped right in the middle of his face. Yet other masters,
without being particularly severe, kept order without any difficulty
at all, the boys instinctively realising that they would stand no
nonsense. Of the perfect schoolmaster, indeed, as of the perfect poet,
it may be said, “Nascitur non fit.”