TRAVEL

I have often heard since much of the immoralities of a public-school life, but I can truly say that when I was there, I saw nothing of them. A very few boys, however, can change the whole character of a school, especially in a wrong direction. “A little worm-wood can pollute a hive of honey,” was one of the wise sayings of Pius II. I do not think that my morals were a bit the worse for Harrow, but from what I have heard since of all that went on there even in my time, I can only conclude it was because – at that time certainly – “je n’avais pas le goût du peché,” as I once read in a French novel.

At Easter, 1848, I left Harrow for the holidays, little imagining that I should never return there. I should have been very sorry had I known it. On the whole, the pleasurable “adventures” of a public-school life had always outweighed its disagreeables; though I was never in strong enough health for any real benefit or enjoyment.

ARNOLD LUNN

Arnold Lunn’s (The Knoll 19023) novel The Harrovians is one of the first critical accounts of public-school rules and traditions. Based on the diary Lunn kept during his time at Harrow in the early 1900s, the novel helped to spark the necessary reform to the public-school system.

FROM THE HARROVIANS CHAPTER IV: ONE MORE LESSONS IN BUSHIDO

“I suppose,” said Manson, in an hour when work was technically prepared, “that they paid the blighter who wrote this tosh.”

“What tosh?” asked Peter.

“Oh, an article in this mag – ‘The Public School Spirit.’ It’s by a chap called Handleby.”

“Usual bilge?” asked Kendal, without much interest.

“Oh yes; stale old tosh. I’ll give you the snappier extracts.”

Manson proceeded to deliver Mr Handleby’s sounding periods with affected eloquence.

“‘Critics complain that education and the more serious efforts of life are neglected; that a boy is discussing averages while his German brother is interested in Shakespeare. We reply that the Public Schools aim at something higher than culture. They build up character and turn out manly, clean-living men that are the rock of the empire.’”

“Such as Caysley, I suppose,” put in Kendal from the floor.

“Well, so long as they turn out clean-livers let ‘em rip.”

Manson proceeded undisturbed. “‘They teach boys something which is more important than the classics. They teach them to play the game.’”

Kendal shouted with wrath, “Chuck it away! A man who uses a tag which one’s aunts are beginning to understand should be shot.”

“Oh, give him a chance, said Parry testily. Parry was touched by the article.

“‘It does not so much matter what a man knows. It is what he is that signifies.’”

“Precisely,” interjected the irrepressible Kendal; “don’t matter him taking five years to reach the upper school if he’s a clean-living manly Empire-builder like Cadby.”

MORE LESSONS IN BUSHIDO (PART III)

A House match between two teams, either of which may ultimately be the Cock House, is a stirring spectacle. The emotions stirred in the spectators are simple and primitive, for the love of watching a close fight is as old and enduring as man. There you see the passion for House as its finest. A boy may hate his House, and long to leave it, yet in the heat of a close contest he will forget everything save that he is a unit in a society represented by eleven good men and true, and that a rival House must be humbled in the dust. It is the triumph of the social as against the individual spirit.

It was tolerably obvious that either Lee’s or Jones’ must be Cock House, and it was unfortunate that they should meet in the first round. Jones’ had five flannels, Lee’s only one, Cayley. Jones’ were the heavier man by man, yet in the scratch matches “Seconders” Lee’s had been undefeated, and had drawn with Jones’. Lee’s always played with desperate vigour, for Cayley had put the fear of God in every member of the team. Their power as an eleven was not a little due to one vigorous personality.

There is no code which gives such little opportunity for finesse and tactics as the Harrow game. The complicated system of passing at Soccer is unknown. The centre, assisted by the wings, follow up in a solid body, and try to capture the ball when the leader loses it. When near the opponents’ base the leader tries to turn it round and gently kick the

ball into the hands of one of his followers. This is not easy when heckled by the other side. If he succeeds the catcher cries “yards,” and is allowed a free kick. There are three backs. Of these, one will always be just behind the centres, and as the ball flies from wing to wing, the backs on the wings will exchange places – one will follow just behind the scrum, the other will go back somewhere near the base, and the centre back will as a rule occupy a position between the two.

The match was played on the Sixth Form ground. A strong breeze was blowing down the hill. The ground was dry and fast. As teams change sides after every base, and not at half-time unless no point was being scored, it was of paramount importance to win the toss. Bending neglected this elementary duty.

FROM CHAPTER XVII: SOLLEN HABEN

Peter and Lipton were watching a Cricket match. In four more days Harrow life would close for Peter. He was feeling mildly pensive.

“Yes, it’s dashed nearly over. I’m sorry. Far sorrier than I ever expected to be.”

“Most people are,” said Lipton. “I sometimes wonder why. Of course one can understand a man not liking to leave. But it’s more than that.”

“Yes, it’s puzzled me too. Of course one can understand it in many cases. There’s Nest, for instance. He’ll never be such a blood again. He hasn’t any brains. He couldn’t even struggle into the upper school, but he’s a mighty man here. Rather a pity, I think, that life should reach its highest point at nineteen. This ought only to be the beginning. Well, you can understand him not wanting to leave. But it’s the rank and file that puzzle one, even boys who never got their privs.”

“O, I dunno,” said Lipton. “One gets fond of the place somehow.”

“Yes, one does. In spite of having the fact rammed down one’s throat in every sermon and every Old Chaw dinner. But I’ve been pretty miserable here when I was a kid.”

“Oh, well, most people would have been in the old days.”

“That’s true enough,” said Peter. “I don’t reckon the small men are unhappy now. Do you?”

“No, they have a jolly sight too good a time. I cobbed young Mandie talking in the passage only yesterday. Told him I’d send him up for a whopping if he did it again.”

“Oh well, that’s easily stopped. After all, the important thing is that they should more or less enjoy life. I never did hold much to the ‘knocking the nonsense out of ‘em’ theory. I remember I used to have nightmares about going back to school when I was a kid. Quite spoiled the hols. Lord, how the old House has changed!”