The English Spy Part 12

ETON MONTEM.

Stand by, old Cant, while I admire The young and gay, with souls of fire, Unloose the cheerful heart.

Hence with thy puritanic zeal; True virtue is to grant and feel-- A bliss thou'lt ne'er impart.

I love thee, Montem,--love thee, by all the brightest recollections of my youth, for the inspiring pleasures which thy triennial pageant revives in my heart: joined with thy merry throng, I can forget the cares and disappointments of the world; and, tripping gaily with the light-hearted, youthful band, cast off the gloom of envy and of worldly pursuit, rea.s.sociating myself with the joyous scenes of my boyhood. Nay, more, I hold thee in higher veneration than ever did antiquarian wors.h.i.+p the relics of _virtu_.

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Destruction light upon the impious hand that would abridge thy ancient charter;--be all thy children, father Etona, doubly-armed to defend thy ancient honors;--let no modern Goth presume to violate thy sacred rights; but to the end of time may future generations retain the spirit of thy present race; and often as the happy period comes, new pleasures wait upon the Eton Montem.{1}

1 The ancient custom, celebrated at Eton every third year, on Whit-Tuesday, and which bears the t.i.tle of The Montem, appears to have defied antiquarian research, as far as relates to its original inst.i.tution. It consiste of a procession to a small tumulus on the southern side of the Bath road, which has given the name of Salt-Hill to the spot, now better known by the splendid inns that are established there. The chief object of this celebration, however, is to collect money for salt, according to the language of the day, from all persons who a.s.semble to see the show, nor does it fail to be exacted from travellers on the road, and even at the private residences within a certain, but no inconsiderable, range of the spot. The scholars appointed to collect the money are called _salt- bearers_; they are arrayed in fancy dresses, and are attended by others called scouts, of a similar, but less showy appearance. Tickets are given to such persons as have paid their contributions, to secure them from any further demand. This ceremony is always very numerously attended by Etonians, and has frequently been honored with the presence of his late Majesty, and the different branches of the Royal Family. The sum collected on the occasion has sometimes exceeded 800L., and is given to the senior scholar, who is called Captain of the School. This procession appears to be coeval with the foundation; and it is the opinion of Mr.

Lysons, that it was a ceremonial of the Bairn, or Boy- Bishop. He states, that it originally took place on the 6th of December, the festival of St. Nicholas, the patron of children; being the day on which it was customary at Salisbury, and in other places where the ceremony was observed, to elect the Boy-Bishop from among the children belonging to the cathedral. This mock dignity lasted till Innocents' day; and, during the intermediate time, the boy performed various episcopal functions. If it happened that he died before the allotted period of this extraordinary mummery had expired, he was buried with all the ceremonials which were used at the funerals of prelates. In the voluminous collections relating to antiquities, bequeathed by Mr. Cole, who was himself of Eton and King's colleges, to the British Museum, is a note which

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mentions that the ceremony of the Bairn or Boy-Bishop was to be observed by charter, and that Geoffry Blythe, Bishop of Lichfield, who died in 1530, bequeathed several ornaments to those colleges, for the dress of the bairn-bishop. But on what authority this industrious antiquary gives the information, which, if correct, would put an end to all doubt on the subject, does not appear. But, after all, why may not this custom be supposed to have originated in a procession to perform an annual ma.s.s at the altar of some saint, to whom a small chapel might have been dedicated on the mount called Salt-Hill; a ceremony very common in Catholic countries, as such an altar is a frequent appendage to their towns and populous villages? As for the selling of salt, it may be considered as a natural accompaniment, when its emblematical character, as to its use in the ceremonies of the Roman Church, is contemplated. Till the time of Doctor Barnard, the procession of the Montem was every two years, and on the first or second Tuesday in February. It consisted of something of a military array. The boys in the remove, fourth, and inferior forms, marched in a long file of two and two, with white poles in their hands, while the sixth and fifth form boys walked on their flanks as officers, and habited in all the variety of dress, each of them having a boy of the inferior forms, smartly equipped, attending on him as a footman. The second boy in the school led the procession in a military dress, with a truncheon in his hand, and bore for the day the t.i.tle of Marshal: then followed the Captain, supported by his Chaplain, the head scholar of the fifth form, dressed in a suit of black, with a large bushy wig, and a broad beaver decorated with a twisted silk hatband and rose, the fas.h.i.+onable distinction of the dignified clergy of that day. It was his office to read certain Latin prayers on the mount at Salt-Hill The third boy of the school brought up the rear as Lieutenant.

One of the higher cla.s.ses, whose qualification was his activity, was chosen Ensign, and carried the colours, which were emblazoned with the college arms, and the motto, _Pro mort el monte_. This flag, before the procession left the college, he flourished in the school-yard with all the dexterity displayed at Astley's and places of similar exhibition. The same ceremony was repeated after prayers, on the mount. The regiment dined in the inns at Salt-Hill, and then returned to the college; and its dismission in the school-yard was announced by the universal drawing of all the swords. Those who bore the t.i.tle of commissioned officers were exclusively on the foundation, and carried spontoons; the rest were considered as Serjeants and corporals, and a most curious a.s.semblage of figures they exhibited. The two princ.i.p.al salt-bearers consisted of an oppidan and a colleger: the former was generally some n.o.bleman, whose figure and personal connexions might advance the interests of the collections. They were dressed like running footmen, and carried, each of them, a silk bag to receive the contributions, in which was a small quant.i.ty of salt. During Doctor Barnard's masters.h.i.+p, the ceremony was made triennial, the time changed from February to Whit- Tuesday, and several of its absurdities retrenched. An ancient and savage custom of hunting a ram by the foundation scholars, on Sat.u.r.day in the election week, was abolished in the earlier part of the last century. The curious twisted clubs with which these collegiate hunters were armed on the occasion are still to be seen in antiquarian collections.

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What coronation, tournament, or courtly pageant, can outs.h.i.+ne thy splendid innocence and delightful gaiety? what regal banquet yields half the pure enjoyment the sons of old Etona experience, when, after months of busy preparation, the happy morn arrives ushered in with the inspiring notes of "_Auld lang syne_" from the well-chosen band in the college breakfast-room? Then, too, the crowds of admiring spectators, the angel host of captivating beauties with their starry orbs of light, and luxuriant tresses, curling in playful elegance around a face beaming with divinity, or falling in admired negligence over bosoms of alabastrine whiteness and unspotted purity within! Grey-bearded wisdom and the peerless great, the stars of honor in the field and state, the pulpit and the bar, send forth their brightest ornaments to grace Etona's holiday. Oxford and Cambridge, too, lend their cla.s.sic aid, and many a grateful son of _Alma Mater_ returns to acknowledge his obligations to his early tutors and swell the number of the mirthful host. Here may be seen, concentrated in the quadrangle, the costume of every nation, in all the gay variety that fancy can devise: the Persian spangled robe, and the embroidered Greek vest; the graceful Spanish, and the picturesque Italian, the Roman toga and the tunic, and the rich old English suit. Pages in red frocks, and marshals in their satin 100~~ doublets; white wands and splendid turbans, plumes, and velvet hats, all hastening with a ready zeal to obey the call of the muster-roll. The captain with his retinue retires to pay his court to the provost; while, in the doctor's study, may be seen, gathered around the dignitary, a few of those great names who honor Eton and owe their honor to her cla.s.sic tutors. Twelve o'clock strikes, and the procession is now marshalled in the quadrangle in sight of the privileged circle, princes, dukes, peers, and doctors with their ladies. Here does the ensign first display his skill in public, and the Montem banner is flourished in horizontal revolutions about the head and waist with every grace of elegance and ease which the result of three months' practice and no little strength can accomplish.

Twelve o'clock strikes, and the procession moves forward to the playing fields on its route to Salt-Hill. Now look the venerable spires and antique towers of Eton like to some chieftain's baronial castle in the feudal times, and the proud captain represents the hero marching forth at the head of his parti-coloured va.s.sals!

The gallant display of rank and fas.h.i.+on and beauty follow in their splendid equipages by slow progressive movement, like the delightful lingering, inch by inch approach to St. James's palace on a full court-day. The place itself is calculated to impress the mind with sentiments of veneration and of heart-moving reminiscences; seated in the bosom of one of the richest landscapes in the kingdom, where on the height majestic Windsor lifts its royal brow; calmly magnificent, over-looking, from his round tower, the surrounding country, and waving his kingly banner in the air: 'tis the high court of English chivalry, the birth-place, the residence, and the mausoleum of her kings, and "i' the olden time," the prison of her captured monarchs. "At once, the sovereign's and ~101~~ the muses' seat," rich beyond almost any other district in palaces, and fanes, and villas, in all the "pomp of patriarchal forests," and gently-swelling hills, and n.o.ble streams, and waving harvests; there Denham wrote, and Pope breathed the soft note of pastoral inspiration; and there too the immortal bard of Avon chose the scene in which to wind the snares of love around his fat-enc.u.mbered knight. Who can visit the spot without thinking of Datchet mead and the buck-basket of sweet Anne Page and Master Slender, and mine host of the Garter, and all the rest of that merry, intriguing crew? And now having reached the foot of the mount and old druidical barrow, the flag is again waved amid the cheers of the surrounding thousands who line its sides, and in their carriages environ its ancient base.{2} Now the salt-bearers and the pages bank their collections in one common stock, and the juvenile band partake of the captain's banquet, and drink success to his future prospects in Botham's port. Then, too, old Herbertus Stockh.o.r.e--he must not be forgotten; I have already introduced him to your notice in p. 59, and my friend Bob Transit has ill.u.s.trated the sketch with his portrait; yet here he demands notice in his official character, and perhaps I cannot do better than quote the humorous account given of him by the elegant pen of an old Etonian {3}

"Who is that buffoon that travesties the travesty? Who is that old cripple alighted from his donkey-cart, who dispenses doggrel and grimaces in all the glory of plush and printed calico?"

"That, my most n.o.ble cynic, is a prodigious personage. Shall birth-days and coronations be recorded in immortal odes, and Montem not have its minstrel 1 He, sir, is Herbertus Stockh.o.r.e; who first called upon his muse in the good old days of Paul Whitehead,--

2 See plate of the Montem, sketched on the spot.

3 See Knight's Quarterly Magazine, No. II.

~102~~ run a race with Pye through all the sublimities of lyres and fires,--and is now hobbling to his grave, after having sung fourteen Montems, the only existing example of a legitimate laureate.

"He ascended his heaven of invention, before the vulgar arts of reading and writing, which are banis.h.i.+ng all poetry from the world, could clip his wings. He was an adventurous soldier in his boyhood; but, having addicted himself to matrimony and the muses, settled as a bricklayer's labourer at Windsor. His meditations on the house-tops soon grew into form and substance; and, about the year 1780, he aspired, with all the impudence of Shad well, and a little of the pride of Petrarch, to the laurel-crown of Eton. From that day he has worn his honors on his 'Cibberian forehead' without a rival."

"And what is his style of composition?"

"Vastly nave and original;--though the character of the age is sometimes impressed upon his productions. For the first three odes, ere the school of Pope was extinct, he was a compiler of regular couplets such as--

'Ye dames of honor and lords of high renown, Who come to visit us at Eton town.'"

During the next nine years, when the remembrance of Collins and Gray was working a glorious change in the popular mind, he ascended to Pindarics, and closed his lyrics with some such pious invocation as this:--

'And now we'll sing G.o.d save the king,

And send him long to reign, That he may come To have some fun At Montem once again. '

During the first twelve years of the present century, the influence of the Lake school was visible in his ~103~~ productions. In my great work I shall give an elaborate dissertation on his imitations of the high-priests of that wors.h.i.+p; but I must now content myself with a single ill.u.s.tration:--

'There's ensign Ronnell, tall and proud, Doth stand upon the hill, And waves the flag to all the crowd, Who much admire his skill.

And here I sit upon my a.s.s, Who lops his s.h.a.ggy ears; Mild thing! he lets the gentry pa.s.s, Nor heeds the carriages and peel's.'

He was once infected (but it was a venial sin) by the heresies of the c.o.c.kney school; and was betrayed, by the contagion of evil example, into the following conceits:

'Behold admiral Keato of the terrestrial crew, Who teaches Greek, Latin, and likewise Hebrew; He has taught Captain Dampier, the first in the race, Swirling his hat with a feathery grace, Cookson the marshal, and Willoughby, of size, Making minor serjeant-majors in looking-gla.s.s eyes.'

But he at length returned to his own pure and original style; and, like the dying swan, he sings the sweeter as he is approaching the land where the voice of his minstrelsy shall no more be heard. There is a calm melancholy in the close of his present ode which is very pathetic, and almost Shakspearian:--

'Farewell you gay and happy throng!

Farewell my muse! farewell my song!

Farewell Salt-hill! farewell brave captain.'

Yet, may it be long before he goes hence and is no more seen! May he limp, like his rhymes, for at least a dozen years; for National schools have utterly annihilated our hopes of a successor!"

"I will not attempt to reason with you," said the inquirer, "about the pleasures of Montem;--but to an ~104~~ Etonian it is enough that it brings pure and enn.o.bling recollections--calls up a.s.sociations of hope and happiness--and makes even the wise feel that there is something better than wisdom, and the great that there is something n.o.bler than greatness. And then the faces that come about us at such a time, with their tales of old friends.h.i.+ps or generous rivalries. I have seen to-day fifty fellows of whom I remember only the nick-names;--they are now degenerated into scheming M.P.'s, or clever lawyers, or portly doctors; -but at Montera they leave the plodding world of reality for one day, and regain the dignities of sixth-form Etonians." {4}

4 To enumerate all the distinguished persons educated at Eton would be no easy task; many of the greatest ornaments of our country have laid the foundation of all their literary and scientific wealth within the towers of this venerable edifice. Bishops Fleetwood and Pearson, the learned John Hales, Dr. Stanhope, Sir Robert Walpole, the great Earl Camden, Outred the mathematician, Boyle the philosopher, Waller the poet, the ill.u.s.trious Earl of Chatham, Lord Lyttelton, Gray the poet, and an endless list of s.h.i.+ning characters have owned Eton for their scholastic nursery: not to mention the various existing literati who have received their education at this celebrated college.

The local situation of Eton is romantic and pleasing; there is a monastic gloom about the building, finely contrasting with the beauty of the surrounding scenery, which irresistibly enchains the eye and heart.

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FAREWELL TO ETON.

Horatio had just concluded the last sentence of the description of the Eton Montem, when my aunt, who had now exceeded her usual retiring time by at least half an hour, made a sudden start, upon hearing the chimes of the old castle clock proclaim a notice of the midnight hour.

"Heavens! boy," said Lady Mary Oldstyle, "what rakes we are! I believe we must abandon all intention of inviting your friend Bernard here; for should his conversation prove half as entertaining as these miscellaneous whims and sc.r.a.ps of his early years, we should, I fear, often encroach upon the midnight lamp." "You forget, aunt," replied Horatio, "that the swallow has already commenced his spring habitation beneath the housings of our bed-room window, that the long summer evenings will soon be here, and then how delightful would be the society of an intelligent friend to accompany us in our evening perambulations through the park, to chat away half an hour with in the hermitage, or to hold converse on your favourite subject botany, and run through all the varieties of the _camelia j.a.ponica_, or the _magnolia fuscata_; then too, I will confess, my own selfishness in the proposition, the pleasure of my friend's company in my fis.h.i.+ng excursions, would divest my favourite amus.e.m.e.nt of its solitary character." ~106~~ My aunt nodded a.s.sent, drew the cowl of her ancient silk cloak over the back part of her head, and, with a half-closed eye, muttered out, in tones of sympathy, her fullest accordance in the proposed arrangement. "I have only one more trifle to read," said Horatio, "before I conclude the history of our school-boy days." "We had better have the bed-candles,"

said my aunt. "You had better hear the conclusion, aunt," said Horatio, "and then we can commence the English Spy with the evening of to-morrow." My aunt wanted but little excitement to accede to the request, and that little was much exceeded in the promise of Horatio's reading Bernard's new work on the succeeding evening, when she had calculated on being left in solitary singleness by her nephew's visit to the county ball. "You must know, aunt," said Horatio, "that it has been a custom, from time immemorial at Eton, for every scholar to write a farewell ode on his leaving, which is presented to the head master, and is called a Vale; in addition, some of the most distinguished characters employ first-rate artists to paint their portraits, which, as a tribute of respect, they present to the princ.i.p.al. Dr. Barnard had nearly a hundred of these grateful faces hanging in his sanctum sanctorum, and the present master bids fair to rival his learned and respected predecessor. ~107~~ My friend's Vale, like every other production of his pen, is marked by the distinguis.h.i.+ng characteristic eccentricity of his mind. The idea, I suspect, was suggested by the Earl of Carlisle's elegant verses, to which he has previously alluded; you will perceive he has again touched upon the peculiarities of his a.s.sociates, the _dramatis persono_ of 'the English Spy,' and endeavoured, in prophetic verse, to unfold the secrets of futurity, as it relates to their dispositions, prospects, and pursuits in life."

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MY VALE.

In infancy oft' by observance we trace What life's future page may unfold; Who the senate, the bar, or the pulpit may grace,