Books of the two Great Halls, complete with hammer beams, are from the hand of Gordon Russell of Broadway, a giant of 20th century design? (Visit his Museum in Broadway if ever you are passing.) The monumental red sandstone buildings are handsomely photographed for the book, and there must be many Heads who would cast an envious eye over the exceptional provision for the students. It is indeed an inspirational place, and its students (from three years old to 18) are reminded that ‘much is required of those to whom much is given’. The book reflects this: there are sections on very original community service; the outdoor centre belonging to the school in Patterdale to which the school welcomes less fortunate children; and VSO, amongst many other activities. The school still attracts major philanthropy, of which the Riley centre is a magnificent contemporary example, and it is typical of the school that it is celebrating its 100th anniversary by an appeal, not for more facilities, but for bursaries, aiming to give bursaries to one in three students in the future, in furtherance of the founding ethos of providing opportunities for all. I cannot finish this review without mentioning one of the major pleasures any old student will find: reading it and
enjoying the wonderful archive photographs, they will have great bursts of nostalgia. There are lots of reminiscences from old students which trigger memory. I hadn’t thought for many years of the awe I felt when first going into the Great Hall, or of Miss Groser and her woodwork lessons, or of Digging for Victory at Beech House (the baby school) with its allotment and pig society, or of the terrible gymslips and woolly black stockings which required a liberty bodice. And one finds it hard to believe, when one looks at the confident outgoing students of today, that the opening of the playing field was celebrated by a demonstration of drill in just that outfit. Drill afflicted the boys too, but they looked a lot smarter despite the shorts, and they seemed to jump in the air when they sprang to attention. Truly, we have progressed, and this book shows us just how triumphantly Bolton has done this. Stephanie North, nee Chadwick, is an Old Girl of Bolton School and a former Vice-Chairman of the Girls Day School Trust. The Best of Both Worlds: A Portrait of Bolton School. Third Millennium Publishing ISBN 9781908990471
The Lyttelton Hart-Davis Letters Hugh Wright is keen to share the delights of a literary correspondence Hugh Wright. This exchange of weekly letters over six years between a retired schoolmaster, George Lyttelton, and his ex-pupil, Rupert Hart-Davis, is unique. Both were unusually interesting men and, at a dinner party in Chelsea Square in October 1955, George Lyttelton complained that he was bored and did not hear from anyone. Taking him at his word, Rupert Hart-Davis said that in that case he would write to him on a regular basis. Their correspondence was unbroken from then on, until George Lyttelton’s death in 1962. So important had the weekly letter become to him that he dictated his last letters to his wife. The bond between master and pupil had always been strong and became remarkable, not least for their unusual community of interests and the many acquaintances that spanned the generation between them. They were always very frank in expressing their views about books, people and events, and both loved cricket. When he retired from publishing in 1978, Rupert Hart-Davis decided it would be worth bringing the letters to wider public attention. They fill six volumes which came out annually from 1978-1984 and these 600 or so letters in unbroken sequence
were an instant and perhaps unlikely success. The first volume is prefaced by a quotation from Dr Johnson, who features often throughout, always with wonderful effect. ‘There is no transaction which offers stronger temptation to sophistication and fallacy than epistolary intercourse.’ This sets the tone: witty, erudite and never boring. Letter writing of this kind may be a dead art in this era of Texting and Facebook, but the traditional letter can say and mean a great deal. Think of those letters from the front in the First World War which convey so much more than their authors could ever have imagined. The letters Hart-Davis published somehow manage to sum up the world of literature and a way of thinking and living in the first half of the 20th century that is largely gone. This encompassed a social life, with its endless lunches, club dinners, dinner parties (sometimes four or five a week!) and staying with friends, which, like the art of this kind of letter writing, has gone and much else with it. By evoking a lost world, the letters, in a sense, transcend their original purpose, and although this was not the writers’ intention, it makes this correspondence important as a record of their times. Continued overleaf Autumn 2016
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