The sadness of departure was tempered also, as I remember, by the immediate5 delight of a journey to be performed. Certainly it was not the unmixed delight with which Rousseau contemplated6 his voyage à faire et Paris au bout7. Something very different lay at the end of my voyage. Nevertheless, so intense was my delight in “the road” at that time (and to a great degree ever since), that the sixty miles journey to be performed was a great alleviation8.
The expedition was to be made with my father in his gig. A horse was to be sent on to Guildford,{95} and by dint9 of starting at a very early hour, and there changing horses, the distance was to be performed in one day. We were to travel, not by the more generally used coach road by Hounslow and Bagshot, but over the district called the Hog’s Back from Guildford to Farnham—chiefly, as I remember, for the sake of showing me that beautiful bit of country. For to my father beautiful scenery was as great a delight as it has always been to myself.
At Farnham there was time, while the horse was being baited at “The Bush,” for us, after snatching a morsel10 of cold meat, to visit hurriedly the park and residence of the Bishop11 of Winchester. I, very contentedly12 trotting13 by the side of my father’s long strides, was much impressed by the beauty of the park. But, as I remember, my mind was very much exercised by the fact, then first learned, that the Bishop’s diocese extended all the way to London. And I think that it seemed somehow to my child’s mind that the dignity of my position as one of William of Wykeham’s scholars was enhanced by the enormous extent of the diocese of his successor.
We reached Winchester late in the evening of the day before the election, putting up, not at “The George,” or at “The White Hart,” as most people would have done, but at the “Fleur de Lys,” pronounced “Flower de Luce,” a very ancient, but then third-rate hostelry, which my father preferred, partly probably because he thought the charges might be less there, but mainly because it is situated14 in the vicinity of the college, and he had known and used{96} it of old. We spent the evening at the house of Dr. Gabell, the head master, an old friend of my father’s, where his eldest15 daughter, an intimate friend of my mother’s, who had often been a visitor in Keppel Street, made much of me.
And the next day I became a Wykehamist! And the manner of so becoming was in this wise. The real serious business of the six electors—three sent from New College, and three belonging to Winchester, as has been set forth16 on a previous page—consisted in the examination of those scholars, who, standing17 at the top of the school, were in that year candidates for New College. All the eighteen “prefects,” who formed the highest class in the school, were examined; but the most serious part of the business was the examination of the first half dozen or so, who were probably superannuated18 at the age of eighteen that year, and who might have a fair chance of finding a vacancy19 at New College (if there were not one at that present moment) in the course of the ensuing twelve months. And this was a very fateful and serious examination, for the examiners in “the election chamber20” would, if the examination disclosed due cause, change the order of the roll as it came up to them, placing a boy, who had distinguished21 himself, before another, who had not done so. And as the roll thus settled was the order in which vacancies22 at New College were taken, the work in “the chamber” was of life-long importance to the subjects of it.
{97}
Very different was the “election” of the children, who were to go into Winchester. Duly instructed as to the part we were to play, we went marvelling23 up the ancient stone corkscrew stair to the mysterious chamber situated over the “middle gate,” i.e. the gateway24 between the outer court and the second quadrangle where the chapel25, the hall, and the chambers26 are. The “election chamber” always maintained a certain character of mystery to us, because it was never opened or used save on the great occasion of the annual election. In that chamber we found the six solemn electors in their gowns waiting for us; especially the Bishop of Hereford, who was then Warden27 of Winchester College, an aged28 man with his peculiar29 wig30 and gown was an object of awe. No Bishop had in those days dreamed as yet of discarding the episcopal wig.
And then the examination began as follows: “Well, boy, can you sing?” “Yes, sir.” “Let us hear you.” “‘All people that on earth do dwell,’” responded the neophyte—duly instructed previously31 in his part of the proceeding—without attempting in the smallest degree to modify in any way his ordinary speech. “Very well, boy. That will do!” returned the examiner. The examination was over, and you were a member of William of Wykeham’s college, Sancta Mari? de Winton prope Winton. “Prope Winton,” observe, for the college is situated outside the ancient city walls.
The explanation of this survival of the simulacrum of an examination is that the ancient statutes32 require{98} that candidates for admission as scholars must be competently instructed in plano cantu—in plain chant; the intention of the founder33 being that all his scholars should take part in the choral service of the chapel.
I and my fellow novices34 thus admitted as scholars in that July of 1820 were not about to join the school immediately. We had the six weeks holidays before us, the election taking place at the end of the summer half year. Election week was the grand festival of the Wykehamical year. For three days high feast was held in the noble old hall. The “high table” was spread on the dais, and all old Wykehamists were welcome at it. The boys in the lower part of the hall were regaled with mutton pies and “stuckling.” That was their appointed fare; but in point of fact they feasted on dishes or portions of dishes sent down from the abundantly-spread high table, and the pies were carried away for the next morning’s breakfast. I do not think anybody ate much “stuckling” beyond a mouthful pro2 forma. It was a sort of flat pastry36 made of chopped apples and currants. And the specialty37 of it was that the apples must be that year’s apples. They used to be sent up from Devonshire or Cornwall, and sometimes were with difficulty obtained. Then there was the singing of the Latin grace, with its beautiful responses, performed by the chapel choir38 and as many others as were capable of taking part in it. The grace with its music has been published, and I need not occupy these pages with a{99} reprint of it. And then in the afternoon came the singing of “Domum” on the fives court behind the school, by the whole strength of the company.
Nine such election weeks did I see, counting from that which made me a Wykehamist in 1820 to that which saw me out a superannuate in 1828. I did not get a fellowship at New College, having narrowly missed it for want of a vacancy by one. I was much mortified39 at the time, but have seen long since that probably all was for the best for me. It was a mere40 chance, as has been shown at a former page, whether a boy at the head or nearly at the head of the school went to New College or not.
The interesting event of a vacancy having occurred at New College, whether by death, marriage, or the acceptance of a living, was announced by the arrival of “speedyman” at Winchester College. “Speedyman,” in conformity41 with immemorial usage, used to bring the news on foot from Oxford42 to Winchester. How well I remember the look of the man, as he used to arrive with all the appearance of having made a breathless journey, a spare, active-looking fellow, in brown cloth breeches and gaiters covered with dust. Of course letters telling the facts had long outstripped43 “speedyman.” But with the charming and reverent44 spirit of conservatism, which in those days ruled all things at Winchester, “speedyman” made his journey on foot all the same!
Of course one of the first matters in hand when{100} this fateful messenger arrived was to regale35 him with college beer, and right good beer it was in those days. In connection with it may be mentioned the rather singular fact, that, whereas all other supplies from the college buttery to the boys—the bread, the cheese, the butter, the meat—were accurately45 measured, the beer was given absolutely ad libitum. In fact it was not given out at all, but taken. Thrice a day the way to the cellar was open, a back stair leading from the hall to the superb old vaulted46 cellar, with its central pillar and arches springing from it in every direction. All around were the hogsheads, and the proper tools for tapping one as soon as another should be out. And to this cellar the boys—or rather the junior boys at each mess—went freely to draw as much as they chose.
And the beer thus freely supplied was our only beverage47, for not only was tea or coffee not furnished, it was not permitted. Some of the prefects (the eighteen first boys in college) would have “tea-messes,” provided out of their own pocket money, and served by their “fags.” But if, as would sometimes happen, either of the masters chanced to appear on the scene before the tea-things could be got out of the way, he used to smash them all, using his large pass key for the purpose, and saying “What are all these things, sir? William of Wykeham knew nothing, I think, of tea!”
We used to breakfast at ten, after morning school, on bread and butter and beer, having got up at{101} half-past five, gone to chapel at half-past six, and into school at half-past seven. At a quarter to one we again went up into hall. It was a specialty of college phraseology to suppress the definite article. We always said “to hall,” “to meads” (the playground), “to school,” “to chambers,” and the like. The visit to hall at that time was properly for dinner, though it had long ceased to be such. The middle of the day “hall” served in my day only for the purpose of luncheon48 (though no such modern word was ever used), and only those “juniors” attended whose office it was to bring away the portions of bread and cheese and “bobs” (i.e. huge jugs) of beer for consumption in the afternoon.
Sunday formed an exception to this practice. We all went up into “hall” in the middle of the day on Sunday, and dined on roast beef, the noontide dinner consisting of roast beef on that day, boiled beef on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and baked plum pudding on Friday and Saturday. But the boiled beef, with the exception of certain portions reserved for the next morning’s breakfast of the seniors of the messes, or companies into which the “inferiors” (i.e., non-prefects) were divided, was not eaten, but given away. During the war Winchester had been one of the depots50 of French prisoners, and the beef in question was then given to them. When there were no more Frenchmen it was given to twenty-four old women who were appointed to do the weeding of the college quad{102}rangles. It must be understood that this arrangement was entirely51 spontaneous on the part of the boys, though it would have been quite out of the question for any individual to say that he for his part would eat his own beef. How all this may be now I know not. Probably the college, under the enlightened guidance of Her Majesty’s Commissioners52, have seen the propriety53 of providing the youthful Wykehamists with table napkins and caper54 sauce, while the old women go without their dole55 of beef. On the Friday and Saturday the pudding was carried down out of hall by the juniors for consumption during the afternoon.
At about a quarter-past six, at the conclusion of afternoon school, we went up into hall for dinner—originally, of course, supper. This consisted of mutton, roast or boiled, every evening of the year, with potatoes and beer. But it was such mutton as is not to be found in English butchers’ shops nowadays, scientific breeding having improved it from off the face of the land. It was small Southdown mutton, uncrossed by any of the coarser, rapidly-growing, and fat-making breeds. And that it should be such was insured by the curious rule, that, though only a given number of pounds of mutton were required and paid for to the contractor56, the daily supply was always to be one sheep and a half. So that if large mutton was sent it was to the loss of the contractor.
Furthermore it was the duty of the “prefect of tub” to see that the mutton was in all ways satisfactory. {103}The “prefect of tub” was one of the five boys at the head of the school; another was the “prefect of hall”; a third “prefect of school”; and the fourth and fifth “prefects of chapel.” These offices were all positions of emolument57. That of the “prefect of tub” was far the most so, and was usually held by the senior college “founder,” or boy of “founder’s kin,” during his last year before going to New College. The titles of the other offices explain themselves, but that of “prefect of tub” requires some elucidation58.
In the hall, placed just inside the screen which divided the buttery hatches from the body of the hall, there was an ancient covered “tub.” In the course of my eight years’ stay at Winchester this venerable tub—damnosa quid non diminuit dies?—had to be renewed. It was replaced by a much handsomer one; but, as I remember, the change had rather the effect on the popular mind in college of diminishing our confidence in the permanency of human institutions generally. The original purpose of this tub was to receive fragments and remains59 of food, together with such portions—“dispers” we called them—of the evening mutton supper as were not duly claimed by the destined recipient60 of them at his place at the table, that they might be given to the poor; and the “prefect of tub” was so called because it was part of his office to see that this was duly done. It was also his duty to preside over the distribution of the aforesaid “dispers”—not quasi dispars, as might be supposed by those who can appreciate the difference between a prime cut{104} out of a leg of mutton and a bit of the breast of a sheep, but “dispers” from dispertio. Now the distribution in question was effected in this wise. The joints62 were cut up in the kitchen always accurately in the same manner. The leg made eight “dispers,” the shoulder seven, and so on. The “dispers” thus prepared were put into four immense pewter dishes, and these were carried up into hall by four choristers under the superintendence of the “prefect of tub” and distributed among the fifty-two “inferiors”—i.e., non-prefects. The eighteen prefects dined at two tables by themselves. Their joints were not cut into “dispers,” but were dressed by the cook according to their own orders, paid for by themselves according to an established tariff63 drawn64 with reference to the extra expense of the mode of preparation ordered. The long narrow tables were six in number, ranged on either side of the noble hall, exactly as in a monastic refectory. The dais was left unoccupied, save at election time, when the “high table” was spread there. At the first two tables on the left hand side as one entered the hall, the eighteen prefects dined.
This bloated aristocracy was supplied with plates to eat their dinner from. The populace—mere mutton consumere nati—the fifty-two inferiors, had only “trenchers,” flat pieces of wood about nine inches square. These fifty-two “inferiors” were divided into eight companies, and occupied the remaining four tables. But this division was so arranged that one of the eight seniors of the{105} “inferiors” was at the head of each company, and one of the eight juniors at the bottom of each, the whole body being similarly distributed. And each of these companies occupied a different table every day, the party who sat at the lowest table on Monday occupying the highest on Tuesday, and so on. So that when the “prefect of tub” entered the hall at the head of the procession of four choristers, carrying the four “gomers” (such was the phrase) of dispers, he proceeded first to the table on the opposite side of the hall to that of the prefects, and saw that the senior of the mess occupying that table selected as many of the most eligible65 dispers as there were persons present. If any junior were absent by authority of, or on the business of, any prefect, his disper was allowed to be taken for him. This senior of the mess, it may be mentioned obiter was called, for some reason hidden in the obscurity of time, the “candlekeeper.” Assuredly neither he nor his office had any known connection with the keeping of candles. Any dispers remaining unclaimed at the end of his tour of the hall belonged to “the tub.”
In return for the performance of this important office, the “prefect of tub” was entitled to the heads, feet, and all such portions of the sheep as were not comprised in legs, shoulders, necks, loins, and breasts, as well as to the dispers of any individuals who might from any cause be absent from college. Of course he did not meddle66 personally with any of these perquisites67, but had a contract{106} with the college manciple, the value of which was, I believe, about ￡80 a year. Such was the “prefect of tub.”
Orderly conduct in hall generally, which did not imply any degree of violence, was maintained by the “prefect of hall,” the dignity of whose office, though it was by no means so profitable as that of the “prefect of tub,” ranked above that of all the other “officers.” No master was ever present in hall.
But the most onerous68 and important duty of the prefect of hall consisted in superintending the excursion to “hills,”—i.e. to St. Catherine’s Hill, which took place twice on every holiday, once on every half-holiday during the year, and every evening during the summer months. On these occasions the “prefect of hall” had under his guidance and authority not only William of Wykeham’s seventy scholars, but the whole of the hundred and thirty pupils of the head master, who were called commoners. The scholars marched first, two and two (with the exception of the prefects who walked as they pleased), and then followed the commoners. And it was the duty of the prefect of hall to keep the column in good and compact order until the top of the hill was reached. Then all dispersed69 to amuse themselves as they pleased. But the prefect of hall still remained responsible for his flock keeping within bounds.
St. Catherine’s Hill is a notably70 isolated71 down in the immediate neighbourhood of Winchester, and{107} just above the charming little village of St. Cross. There is a clump72 of firs on the top, and the unusually well marked circumvallation of a Roman (or British?) camp around the circle of the hill. The ditch of this circumvallation formed our “bounds.” The straying beyond them, however, in the direction of the open downs away from the city, and from St. Cross, was deemed a very venial73 offence by either the prefect of hall or the masters. But not so in the direction of the town. It was the duty of the three “juniors” in college—one of whom I was during my first half-year—to “call domum.” When the time came for returning to college one of those three walked over the top of the hill from one side to the other, while the other two went round the circumvallation—each one half of it—calling perpetually “Domum ... domum” as loudly as they could. All the year round we went to “morning hills” before breakfast, and to afternoon hills about three. In the summer we went, as I have said, every evening after “hall,” but not to the top of the hill, only to the water-meads at the foot of it, the object being to bathe in the Itchen.
Many of the Winchester recollections most indelibly fixed74 in my memory are connected with “hills.” It seems impossible that sixty years can have passed since I stood on the bank of the circumvallation facing towards Winchester, and gazed down on the white morning mist that entirely concealed75 the city and valley. How many mornings{108} in the late autumn have I stood and watched the moving, but scarcely moving masses of billowy white cloud! And what strange similitudes and contrasts suggested themselves to my mind as I recently looked down from the heights of Monte Gennaro on the Roman Campagna similarly cloud hidden! The phenomenon exhibited itself on an infinitely76 larger scale in the latter case, but it did not suggest to me such thick-coming fancies and fantastic imaginings as the water-mead-born mists of the Itchen!
There were two special amusements connected with our excursions to St. Catherine’s Hill—badger77 baiting and “mouse-digging,” the former patronised mainly by the bigger fellows, the latter by their juniors. There was a man in the town, a not very reputable fellow I fancy, who had constituted himself “badger keeper” to the college. It was his business to provide a badger and dogs, and to bring them to certain appointed trysting places at “hill times” for the sport. The places in question were not within our “bounds,” but at no great distance in some combe or chalk-pit of the neighbouring downs. Of course it was not permitted by the authorities; but I think it might easily have been prevented had any attempt to do so been made in earnest. It seems strange, considering my eight years’ residence in college, that I never once was present at a badger baiting. I am afraid that my absence was not caused by distinct disapproval78 of the cruelty of the sport, but simply by the fact that{109} my favourite “hill-times” occupations took me in other directions.
Nor, probably for the same reason, was I a great mouse-digger. Very many of us never went to “hills” unarmed with a “mouse-digger.” This was a sort of miniature pickaxe, which was used to dig the field-mice out of their holes. The skill and the amusement consisted in following the labyrinthine79 windings80 of these, which are exceedingly numerous on the chalk downs, in such sort as to capture the inmate81 and her brood without injuring her, and carry her home in triumph to be kept in cages provided ad hoc.
There was—and doubtless is—a clump of firs on the very centre and summit of St. Catherine’s Hill. They are very tall and spindly trees, with not a branch until the tuft at the top is reached. And my great delight when I was in my first or second year was to climb these. Of course I was fond of doing what few, if any, of my compeers could do as well. And this was the case as regarded “swarming up” those tall and slippery stems. I could reach the topmost top, and gloried much in doing so.
But during my later years the occupation of a hill morning which most commended itself to me was ranging as widely as possible over the neighbouring hills. Like the fox in the old song, I was “off to the downs O!” As I have said, the straying beyond bounds in this direction, away from the town, was considered a very light offence; but I was apt to make it a somewhat more serious one by not getting{110} back from my rambling82, despite good running, till it was too late to return duly with the main body to college. It was very probable that this might pass without detection, if there were no roll-call on the way back. But it frequently happened that “Gaffer” (such was Dr. Williams’s sobriquet83 among us) on his white horse met us on our homeward march, and stopped the column, while the prefect of hall called names. As these escapades in my case occurred mainly during my last three years, I being a prefect myself owed no allegiance to the authority of the prefect of hall. But the roll-call revealing my absence would probably issue in my having to learn by heart one of the epistles of Horace. Prefects learned their “impositions” by heart, “inferiors” wrote them.
Every here and there the sides of these downs are scored by large chalk-pits. There is a very large one on St. Catherine’s Hill on the side looking towards St. Cross; and this was a favourite scene of exploits in which I may boast myself (’tis sixty years since!) to have been unrivalled. There was a very steep and rugged84 path by which it was possible to descend85 from the upper edge of this chalk-pit to the bottom of it. And it was a feat86, in which I confess I took some pride, to take a fellow on my shoulders (not on my back), while he had a smaller boy on his shoulders, and thus with two living stories on my shoulders to descend the difficult path in question. And the boy in the middle—the first story—could not be a very small one, for it was{111} requisite87 that he also should hold and balance his burthen thoroughly88 well. I think I could carry one very little boy down now!
It was the “prefect of hall” who managed the whole business of our holidays—as they would be called elsewhere—which we called “remedies.” A “holiday” meant at Winchester a red-letter day; and was duly kept as such. But if no such day occurred in the week, the “prefect of hall” went on the Tuesday morning to the head master (Wiccamice “informator”) and asked for a “remedy,” which, unless there were any reason, such as very bad weather, or a holiday coming later in the week, was granted by handing to the prefect a ring, which remained in his keeping till the following morning. This symbol was inscribed89 “Commendat rarior usus.”
But in addition to these important duties the “prefect of hall” discharged another, of which I must say a few words, with reference to the considerable amount of interest which the outside world was good enough to take in the subject a few years ago, with all that accurate knowledge of facts, and that discrimination which people usually display when talking of what they know nothing about.
It was the “prefect of hall,” who ordered the infliction90 of a “public tunding.” The strange phrase, dropped by some unlucky chance into ears to which it conveyed no definite meaning, seems to have inspired vague terrors of the most terrific kind. Very much nonsense was talked and printed at the{112} time I refer to. But the following simple and truthful91 statement of what a public tunding was, may enable those, who take an interest in the matter, to form some reasonable opinion whether the infliction of such punishment were a good or a bad thing.
At the conclusion of the evening dinner or supper, whichever it may be called, the “prefect of hall” summoned the boys to the dais for the singing of grace. Some dozen or so of boys, who had the best capacities for the performance, were appointed by him for the purpose, and the whole assembly stood around the dais, while the hymn92, Te de Profundis, was sung. When all were thus assembled, and before the singers commenced, the culprit who had been sentenced to a tunding stepped out, pulled off his gown, and received from the hands of one deputed by the “prefect of hall,” and armed with a tough, pliant93 ground-ash stick, a severe beating. I never had a tunding; but I have no doubt that the punishment was severe, though I never heard of any boy disabled by it from pursuing his usual work or his usual amusements. It was judiciously94 ordered by the “prefect of hall” for offences deemed unbecoming the character of a Wykehamist and a gentleman, and only for such. Any such petty larceny95 exploits as the scholars at some other “seats of learning” are popularly said to be not unfrequently guilty of, such as robberies of orchards96 or poultry-yards or the like, would have inevitably97 entailed98 a public tunding. Any attempt{113} whatsoever99 to appropriate unduly100 either by fraud or violence anything sent to another boy from home—any portion of a “cargo,” as such despatches were called—and à fortiori any money or money’s value, would have necessitated102 a public tunding. The infliction was rare. Many half years passed without any public tunding having been administered. And my own impression is, that the practice was eminently103 calculated to foster among us a high tone of moral and gentlemanlike feeling.
These reminiscences of the penal104 code that was in vigour105 among ourselves are naturally connected with those referring to the subject of corporal punishment in its more official form.
On one of the whitewashed106 walls of the huge schoolroom was an inscription107 conceived and illustrated108 as follows: “Aut disce!” and there followed a depicted109 book and inkstand; “Aut discede!” followed by a handsomely painted sword, as who should say, “Go and be a soldier!” (offering that as an alternative for which no learning was needed, after the fashion of a day before examinations for commissions were dreamed of!); and then lastly, “Manet sors tertia c?di,” followed by the portraiture110 of a rod.
But this rod is of so special and peculiar a kind, and so dissimilar from any such instrument as used elsewhere, that I must try to explain the nature of it to my non-Wiccamical readers. A stick of some hard wood, beech111 I think it was, turned into{114} a shape convenient to the hand, about a yard long, and with four grooves112 about three inches long and as large as a cedar113 pencil, cut in the extremity114 of it, formed the handle. Into these four grooves were fitted four slender apple twigs115 about five feet long. They were sent up from Herefordshire in bundles, cut and prepared for the purpose, and it was the duty of the “prefect of school” to provide them. These twigs, fitted into the grooves, were fixed by a string which bound them tightly to the handle, and a rod was thus formed, the four-fold switches of which stood out some foot—or more than that towards the end—from each other.
The words “flog,” or “flogging,” it is to be observed, were never heard among us, in the mouth either of the masters or of the boys. We were “scourged116.” And a scourging117 was administered in this wise. At a certain spot in the school—near the seat of the “informator,” when he was the executioner, and near that of the “hostiarius” or under master when he had to perform—in front of a fixed form, the patient kneeled down. Two boys, any who chanced to be at hand, stepped behind the form, turned the gown of a collegian or the coat tails of a commoner over his shoulders, and unbuttoned his brace118 buttons, leaving bare at the part where the braces119 join the trousers a space equal to the diameter of a crown-piece—such was the traditional rule. And aiming at this with more or less exactitude the master inflicted120 three cuts. Such was a “scourging.{115}”
Prefects, it may be observed, were never scourged.
The “best possible instructors” of this enlightened age, who never treat of subjects the facts of which they are not conversant121 with, have said much of the “cruelty,” and the “indecency” of such infliction of corporal punishment, and of the moral degradation122 necessarily entailed on the sufferers of it. As to the cruelty, it will be readily understood from the above description of the rod, that it was quite as likely as not that no one of the four twigs, at either of the three cuts, touched the narrow bare part; especially as the operator—proceeding from one patient to another with the utmost possible despatch101, and with his eyes probably on the list in his left hand of the culprits to be operated on—had little leisure or care for aiming. The fact simply was that the pain was really not worth speaking of, and that nobody cared the least about it.
The affair passed somewhat in this wise. It is ten o’clock; the morning school is over; and we are all in a hurry to get out to breakfast. There are probably about a dozen or a score of boys to be scourged. Dr. Williams, as well beloved a master as ever presided over any school in the world, has come down from his seat, elevated three steps above the floor of the school, putting on his great cocked hat as he does so. He steps to the form where the scourging is to be done; the list of those to be scourged, with the reasons why, is handed to him{116} by the prefect, charged for the week with this duty, together with the rod. He calls “Jones” ... swish, swish, swish!... “Brown” ... swish, swish, swish!... “Robinson” ... swish, swish, swish! as rapidly as it can be done. Each operation takes perhaps twenty seconds. Having got through the list, he flings the rod on the ground, makes a demi-volte so as to face the whole school, taking off his hat as he does so, and the “prefect of school” who has been waiting on the steps of the master’s seat, with the prayer-book open in his hand, instantly reads the short prayer with which the school concludes, while those who have been scourged stand in the background hurriedly readjusting their brace buttons so as not to be behind hand at the buttery hatch for breakfast. Of any disgrace attached to the reception of a scourging, no one had any smallest conception.
Of the cruelty of the infliction the reader may judge for himself. Of the indecent talk about indecency he may also know from the above accurate account what to think. The degree of “moral degradation” inflicted on the sufferers may perhaps be estimated by a reference to the roll of those whom Winchester has supplied to serve their country in Church and State.
The real and unanswerable objection to the infliction of “corporal punishment,” as it was used in my day at Winchester, was that it was a mere form and farce123. It caused neither pain nor disgrace, and assuredly morally degraded nobody. I{117} have been scourged five times in the day; not because, as might be supposed, I was so incorrigible124 that the master found it necessary to go on scourging me, but simply because it so chanced. I had, say, come into chapel “tardè,” i.e. after the service had commenced; I had omitted to send in duly my “vulgus”; I had been “floored” in my Horace; I had missed duly answering “sum,” when on returning from “hills” “Gaffer” had met the procession on his grey horse and caused the “prefect of hall” “to call names,” the reason being that I had been far away over the downs to Twyford, and had not been able to run back in time; and an unlucky simultaneousness of these or of a dozen other such sins of omission125 or commission had occurred, which had to be wiped off by a scourging by the “hostiarius” at the morning school, and another by the “informator;” by a third from the former at “middle school,” when the head master did not attend; by a fourth from the “hostiarius” at evening school, and a fifth from the “informator” the last thing before going out to dinner at six. But this was a rare tour de force, scarcely likely to occur again. I was rather proud of it, and wholly unconscious of any “moral degradation.”
I have spoken of the “informator” putting on his cocked hat when about to commence his work of scourging. I am at a loss to account for his having worn this very unacademical costume. It was a huge three-cornered cocked hat very much like that of a coachman on state occasions; and must, I take{118} it, have been a survival from about the time of Charles the Second. It has, I believe, been since discarded.
The mention above of a “vulgus” requires some explanation. Every “inferior,” i.e. non-prefect, in the school was required every night to produce a copy of verses of from two to six lines on a given theme; four or six lines for the upper classes, two for the lowest. This was independent of a weekly “verse task” of greater length, and was called a “vulgus,” I suppose, because everybody—the vulgus—had to do it. The prefects were exercised in the same manner but with a difference. Immediately before going out from morning or from evening school, at the conclusion of the day’s lesson, the “informator” would give a theme, and each boy was expected then and there without the assistance of pen, paper, or any book, to compose a couple, or two couple, of lines, and give them viva voce. He got up, and scraped with his foot to call the master’s attention when he was ready; and as not above five or ten minutes were available for the business, a considerable degree of promptitude was requisite. The theory was that these compositions—“varying” was the term in the case of the prefects, as “vulgus” in that of the inferiors—should be epigrammatic in their nature, and that Martial127 rather than Ovid should be the model. Of course but little of an epigrammatic nature was for the most part achieved; but great readiness was made habitual128 by the practice. And sometimes the{119} result was creditable to something more than readiness.
I am tempted129 to give one instance of such a “varying.” It belonged to an earlier time than mine—the time when Decus et tutamen was adopted as the motto cut on the rim61 of the five-shilling pieces. The author of the “varying” in question had been ill with fever, and his head had been shaved, causing him to wear a wig. Decus et tutamen was the theme given. In a minute or two he was ready, stood up, and taking off his wig, said, “Aspicite hos crines! duplicem servantur in usum! Hi mihi tutamen nocte”—putting the wig on wrong side outwards130; “Dieque decus,” reversing it as he spoke126 the words. The memory of this “varying” lives—or lived!—at Winchester. But I do not think it has ever been published, and really it deserves preservation131. I wish I could give the author’s name.
When at the end of the summer holidays in that year, 1820, I returned to college, again brought down to Winchester by my father in his gig, I confess to having felt for some short time a very desolate132 little waif. As I, at the time a child barely out of the nursery, look back upon it, it seems to my recollection that the strongest sense of being shoved off from shore without guidance, help, or protection, arose from never seeing or speaking to a female human being. To be sure there was at the sick-house the presiding “mother”—Gumbrell her name was, usually pronounced “Grumble{120}”—but she was not a fascinating representative of the sex. An aged woman once nearly six feet high, then much bent133 by rheumatism134, rather grim and somewhat stern, she very conscientiously135 administered the prescribed “black-dose and calomel pill” to those under her care at the sick-house. To be there was called being “continent;” to leave it was “going abroad”—intelligibly enough. Tea was provided there for those “continent” instead of the usual breakfast of bread and butter and beer; and I remember overhearing Mother Gumbrell, oppressed by an unusual number of inmates136, say, “Talk of Job indeed! Job never had to cut crusty loaves into bread and butter!”
I saw the old woman die! I was by chance in the sick-house kitchen—in after years, when a prefect—and “Dicky Gumbrell,” the old woman’s husband, who had been butler to Dean Ogle137, and who by special and exceptional favour was allowed to live with his wife in the sick-house, was reading to her the story of Joseph and his Brethren, while she was knitting a stocking, and sipping138 occasionally from a jug49 of college beer which stood between them, when quite suddenly her hands fell on to her lap and her head on to her bosom139, and she was dead! while poor old Dicky quite unconsciously went on with his reading.
But I mentioned Mother Gumbrell only to observe that she, the only petticoated creature whom we ever saw or spoke with, was scarcely calculated to supply, even to the imagination, the feminine ele{121}ment which had till then made so large a part of the lives of ten-year-old children fresh from their mother’s knee.
Perhaps the most markedly distinctive140 feature of the school life was the degree in which we were uninterfered with by any personal superintendence. The two masters came into the school-room to hear the different classes at the hours which have been mentioned, also, when we were “in chambers” in the evening, either during the hour of study which intervened between the six o’clock dinner and the eight o’clock prayers in the chapel, or during the subsequent hour between that and nine o’clock, when all went, or ought to have gone, to bed; and subsequently to that, when all were supposed to be in bed and asleep, we were at any moment liable to the sudden unannounced visit of the “hostiarius” or second master. The visit was a mere “going round.” If all was in order, it passed in silence, and was over in a minute. If any tea-things were surprised, they were broken, as before mentioned. If beer, or traces of the consumption of beer, were apparent, that was all right. The supply of a provision of that refreshment142 was recognised, it being a part of the duty of the bedmakers to carry every evening into each of the seven “chambers” a huge “nipperkin” of beer, “to last,” as I remember one of the bedmakers telling me when I first went into college, “for all night.” The supply, as far as my recollection goes, was always considerably143 in excess of the consumption. If all was not in order, “the{122} prefect in course”—i.e. the prefect who in each chamber was responsible for due order during the current week—was briefly144 told to speak with the master next morning. And this comprises about all the personal intercourse145 that took place between us and the masters.
Not that it is to be understood that any hour of our lives was left to our own discretion146 as to the employment of it; but this was attained147 by no immediate personal superintendence or direction. The systematised routine was so perfect, and so similar in its operation to the movements of some huge irresistible148 machine, that the disposal of each one of our hours seemed to be as natural, as necessary, and as inevitable149 as the waxing and waning150 of the moon. And the impression left on my mind by eight years’ experience of such a system is, that it was pre-eminently calculated to engender151 and foster habitual conceptions of the paramount152 authority of law, as distinguished from the dictates153 of personal notions or caprices; of self-reliance, and of conscious responsibility in the individual as forming an unit in an organised whole. Of course the eighteen prefects were to a much smaller degree coerced154 by the machine, and to a very great degree active agents in the working of it. And I was a prefect during three years of my eight in college. But at first, when a little fellow of, say, ten years old, entered this new world, it was not without a desolate sensation of abandonment, which it needed a month or two’s experience to get the better of.{123}
All this, however, was largely corrected and modified by one admirable institution, which was a cardinal155 point in the Wiccamical system. To every “inferior” was appointed one of the prefects as a “tutor.” It was the duty of this tutor to superintend and see to the learning of his lessons by the inferior, and the due performance of his written “prose” and “verse tasks,” to protect him against all ill-usage or “bullying156,” and to be in all ways his providence157 and friend. These appointments were made by the “informator.” The three or four senior prefects had as many as seven pupils, the junior prefects one or two only; and the tutor received from the parents of each pupil, by the hands of the master, two guineas yearly.
In order rightly to understand the working of all these arrangements, it must be explained that each individual’s place in “the school” and his place “in college” were two entirely different things. The first depended on his acquirements when he entered the college and his subsequent scholastic158 progress. The latter depended solely159 on his seniority “in college.” The junior in college was the last boy whose nomination160 succeeded in finding a vacancy in any given year; and he remained “junior” till the admission of another boy next year, when he had one junior below him, and so on. Thus it might happen, and constantly did happen, that a boy’s junior in college might be much above him in the school, either from having come in at a later age, or from being a better prepared or cleverer{124} boy. And all the arrangements of the domestic college life, the fagging, &c., depended wholly on juniority “in college,” and had no reference to the place held by each in the school. But all this seniority and juniority “in college” ceased to operate in any way as soon as the individual in question became a prefect. He had then equal authority over every “inferior,” whether such inferior were his senior or junior in college.
It is evident, therefore, that the prefect’s authority was frequently exercised over individuals older, bigger, stronger than himself; and for the due and regular working of this system it was necessary that the authority of the prefect should be absolute and irresistible. It was traditionally supposed in college that for an “inferior” to raise his hand against a prefect would be a case of expulsion. Whether expulsion would have actually followed, I cannot say, for during my eight years’ residence in college I never remember such a case to have occurred. I have heard my father and other old Wykehamists of his day declare that no such absolute authority as that of a prefect at Winchester existed in England, save in the case of the captain of a man-of-war. It should be observed, however, in modification161 of this, that any abuse of this authority in the way of bullying or cruelty would at once have been interfered141 with by that other prefect, the victim’s tutor. An appeal to the master would have been about as much thought of as an appeal to Jupiter or Mars.
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1
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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2
pro
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| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
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3
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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4
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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5
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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6
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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7
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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8
alleviation
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| n. 减轻，缓和，解痛物 | |
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9
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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10
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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12
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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13
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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14
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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15
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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16
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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17
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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18
superannuated
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| adj.老朽的，退休的；v.因落后于时代而废除，勒令退学 | |
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19
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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21
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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22
vacancies
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| n.空房间( vacancy的名词复数 )；空虚；空白；空缺 | |
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23
marvelling
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的现在分词 ) | |
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24
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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25
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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27
warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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28
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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29
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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31
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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32
statutes
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| 成文法( statute的名词复数 )； 法令； 法规； 章程 | |
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Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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34
novices
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| n.新手( novice的名词复数 )；初学修士（或修女）；（修会等的）初学生；尚未赢过大赛的赛马 | |
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35
regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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36
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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37
specialty
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| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
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38
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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39
mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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40
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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41
conformity
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| n.一致，遵从，顺从 | |
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42
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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43
outstripped
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
reverent
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| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
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45
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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46
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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47
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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48
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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49
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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50
depots
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| 仓库( depot的名词复数 )； 火车站； 车库； 军需库 | |
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51
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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52
commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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53
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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54
caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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55
dole
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| n.救济，（失业）救济金；vt.（out）发放，发给 | |
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56
contractor
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| n.订约人，承包人，收缩肌 | |
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57
emolument
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| n.报酬，薪水 | |
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58
elucidation
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| n.说明，阐明 | |
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59
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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60
recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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61
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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62
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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63
tariff
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| n.关税，税率；(旅馆、饭店等)价目表，收费表 | |
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64
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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65
eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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66
meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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67
perquisites
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| n.（工资以外的）财务补贴( perquisite的名词复数 )；额外收入；（随职位而得到的）好处；利益 | |
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68
onerous
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| adj.繁重的 | |
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69
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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70
notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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71
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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72
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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73
venial
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| adj.可宽恕的；轻微的 | |
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74
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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75
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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76
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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77
badger
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| v.一再烦扰，一再要求，纠缠 | |
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78
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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79
labyrinthine
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| adj.如迷宫的；复杂的 | |
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80
windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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81
inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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82
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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83
sobriquet
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| n.绰号 | |
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84
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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85
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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86
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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87
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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88
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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89
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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90
infliction
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| n.（强加于人身的）痛苦，刑罚 | |
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91
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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92
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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93
pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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94
judiciously
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| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
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95
larceny
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| n.盗窃（罪） | |
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96
orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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97
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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98
entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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99
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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100
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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101
despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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102
necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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104
penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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105
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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106
whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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108
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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109
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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110
portraiture
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| n.肖像画法 | |
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111
beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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112
grooves
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| n.沟( groove的名词复数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏v.沟( groove的第三人称单数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏 | |
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113
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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114
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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115
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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116
scourged
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| 鞭打( scourge的过去式和过去分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
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117
scourging
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| 鞭打( scourge的现在分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
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118
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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119
braces
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| n.吊带，背带；托架( brace的名词复数 )；箍子；括弧；（儿童）牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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120
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
conversant
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| adj.亲近的，有交情的，熟悉的 | |
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122
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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123
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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124
incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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125
omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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126
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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127
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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128
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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129
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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130
outwards
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| adj.外面的，公开的，向外的；adv.向外；n.外形 | |
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131
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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132
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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133
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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134
rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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135
conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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136
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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137
ogle
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| v.看；送秋波；n.秋波，媚眼 | |
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138
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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139
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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140
distinctive
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| adj.特别的，有特色的，与众不同的 | |
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141
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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142
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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143
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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144
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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145
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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146
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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147
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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148
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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149
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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150
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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151
engender
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| v.产生，引起 | |
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152
paramount
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| a.最重要的，最高权力的 | |
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153
dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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154
coerced
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| v.迫使做( coerce的过去式和过去分词 )；强迫；（以武力、惩罚、威胁等手段）控制；支配 | |
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155
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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156
bullying
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| v.恐吓，威逼( bully的现在分词 )；豪；跋扈 | |
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157
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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158
scholastic
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| adj.学校的，学院的，学术上的 | |
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159
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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160
nomination
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| n.提名，任命，提名权 | |
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161
modification
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| n.修改，改进，缓和，减轻 | |
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