ELECTION SATURDAY.
A Peep at the Long Chambers—The Banquet—Reflections on
parting—Arrival of the Provost of King's College,
Cambridge, and the Pozers—The Captain's Oration—Busy
Monday—The Oppidan's Farewell—Examination and Election of
the Collegers who stand for King's—The aquatic Gala and
Fireworks—Oxonian Visitors—Night—Rambles in Eton—
Transformations of Signs and Names—The Feast at the
Christopher, with a View of THE OPPIDAN'S MUSEUM, AND ETON
COURT OF CLAIMS.
Now from the schools pour forth a num'rous train,
Light-hearted, buoyant as the summer breeze,
To deck thy bosom, Eton: now each face
Anticipation brightens with delight,
While many a fancied bliss floats gaily
O'er the ardent mind, chaste as the Nautilus,
Spreading her pearly spangles to the sun:
The joyous welcome of parental love,
The heart-inspiring kiss a sister yields,
A brother's greeting, and the cheering smiles
Of relatives and friends, and aged domestics,
Time-honor'd for their probity and zeal,
Whose silvery locks recall to mem'ry's view
Some playful scene of earliest childhood,
When frolic, mirth, and gambol led the way,
Ere reason gave sobriety of thought.-
Now bear the busy Cads the new-lopt bough
Of beech-tree to the dormitories,
While active Collegers the foliage raise
Against the chamber walls. A classic grove
Springs as by magic art, cool and refreshing,
A luxury by nature's self supply'd,
Delicious shelter from the dog-star's ray.
In thought profound the studious Sextile mark
In learned converse with some ancient sage,
Whose aid he seeks to meet the dread Provost.
The captain fearless seeks the ancient stand,
Where old Etona's sons, beneath time's altar-piece,*
Have immemorial welcomed Granta's chief.
In College-hall the merry cook prepares
The choicest viands for the master's banquet:
A graceful, healthy throng surround the board,
And temp'rance, love, and harmony, prevail.
Now busy dames are in high bustle caught,
Preparing for each oppidan's departure;
And servants, like wing'd Mercury, must fly
O'er Windsor bridge to hail the London coach.
Adieus on ev'ry side, farewell, farewell,
Rings in each passing ear; yet, nor regret
Nor sorrow marks the face, but all elate
With cheerful tongue and brighten'd eye, unite
To hail with joy Etona's holiday.
Now comes the trial of who stands for King's,
Examinations difficult and deep
The Provost and his pozers to o'ercome.
To this succeeds the grand aquatic gala,
A spectacle of most imposing import,
Where, robed in every costume of the world,
The gay youth direct the glittering prow;
A fleet of well-trimm'd barks upon the bosom
Of old father Thames, glide on to pleasure's note:
The expert victors are received with cheers,
And the dark canopy of night's illumin'd
With a grand display of brilliant fires.
* Shortly after the arrival of the Provost, he proceeds
through the cloisters, where he is met by the captain, or
head boy of the school, who speaks a long Latin oration
before him, standing under the clock.
To an old Etonian the last week in July brings with it recollections of delight that time and circumstances can never wholly efface. If, beneath the broad umbrage of the refreshing grove, he seeks relief from care and sultry heat, memory recalls to his imagination the scenes of his boyhood, the ever pleasing recollections of infancy, when he reclined upon the flowery bosom of old father Thames, or sought amusement in the healthful exercise of bathing, or calmly listened to the murmuring ripple of the waters, or joined the merry group in gently plying of the splashing oar. With what eager delight are these reminiscences of youth dwelt on! With what mingled sensations of hope, fear, and regret, do we revert to the happy period of life when, like the favorite flower of the month, our minds and actions rivalled the lily in her purity! Who, that has ever tasted of the inspiring delight which springs from associations of scholastic friendships and amusements, but would eagerly quit the bustle of the great world to indulge in the enjoyment of the pure and unalloyed felicity which is yet to be found among the alumni of Eton?—Election Saturday—the very sound reverberates the echo of pleasure, and in a moment places me (in imagination) in the centre of the long chambers of Eton, walking beneath the grateful foliage of the beech-tree, with which those dormitories are always decorated previous to election Saturday. I can almost fancy that I hear the rattle of the carriage wheels, and see the four horses smoking beneath the lodge-window of Eton college, that conveys the provost of King's to attend examination and election. Then too I can figure the classic band who wait to receive him; the dignified little doctor leading the way, followed by the steady, calm-visaged lower master, Carter; then comes benedict Yonge, and after him a space intervenes, where one should have been of rare qualities, but he is absent; then follows good-humoured Heath, and Knapp, who loves the rattle of a coach, and pleasant, clever Hawtry, and careful Okes, and that shrewd sapper, Green, followed by medium Dupuis, and the intelligent Chapman: these form his classic escort to the cloisters. But who shall paint the captain's envied feelings, the proud triumph of his assiduity and skill? To him the honourable office of public orator is assigned; with modest reverence he speaks the Latin oration, standing, as is the custom from time immemorial, under the clock. There too he receives the bright reward, the approbation of the Provost of King's college, and the procession moves forward to the College-hall to partake of the generous banquet. On Sunday the Provost of King's remains a guest with his compeer of Eton. But busy Monday arrives, and hundreds of Oxonians and Cantabs pour in to witness the speeches of the boys, and pay a tribute of respect to their former masters. The exhibition this day takes place in the upper school, and consists of sixth form oppidans and collegers. How well can I remember the animated picture Eton presents on such occasions: shoals of juvenile oppidans, who are not yet of an age to have been elected of any particular school-party, marching forth from their dames' houses, linked arm in arm, parading down the street with an air and gaiety that implies some newly acquired consequence, or liberty of conduct. Every where a holiday face presents itself, and good humour lisps upon every tongue. Here may be seen a youthful group, all anxiety and bustle, trudging after some well-known Cad, who creeps along towards the Windsor coach-office, loaded with portmanteaus, carpet bags, and boxes, like a Norfolk caravan at Christmas time; while the youthful proprietors of the bulky stock, all anxiety and desire to reach their relatives and friends, are hurrying him on, and do not fail to spur the elephant with many a cutting gibe, at his slow progression. Within doors the dames are all bustle, collecting, arranging, and packing up the wardrobes of their respective boarders; servants flying from the hall to the attic, and endangering their necks in their passage down again, from anxiety to meet the breathless impetuosity of their parting guests. Books of all classes, huddled into a heap, may be seen in the corner of each bedroom, making sock for the mice till the return of their purveyors with lots of plum-cake and savoury tarts. The more mature are now busily engaged in settling the fashion of their costume for the approaching gala; in receiving a visit from an elder brother, or a young Oxonian, formerly of Eton, who has arrived post to take sock with him, and enjoy the approaching festivities. Here a venerable domestic, whose silver locks are the truest emblem of his trusty services, arrives with the favorite pony to convey home the infant heir and hope of some noble house.
Now is Garraway as lively as my lord mayor's steward at a Guildhall feast-day; and the active note of preparation for the good things of this world rings through the oaken chambers of the Christopher. Not even the sanctum sanctorum is forgotten, where, in times long past, I have quaffed my jug of Bulstrode, "in cool grot," removed from the scorching heat of a July day, and enjoyed many a good joke, secure from the prying observations of the domine. One, and one only, class of persons wear a sorrowful face upon these joyous occasions, and these are the confectioners and fruitresses of Eton; with them, election Saturday and busy Monday are like the herald to a Jewish black fast, or a stock exchange holiday: they may as well sport their oaks (to use an Oxford phrase) till the return of the oppidans to school, for they seldom see the colour of a customer's cash till the, to them, happy period arrives.
On the succeeding days the examinations of the collegers proceed regularly; then follows the election of new candidates, and the severe trial of those who stand for King's. These scholastic arrangements generally conclude on the Wednesday night, or Thursday morning, and then Pleasure mounts her variegated car, and drives wherever Fancy may direct. Formerly I find seven or eight scholars went to King's;{*} but in consequence of the fellows of Eton holding pluralities, the means are impoverished, and the number consequently reduced to two or three: this is the more to be regretted, on account of the very severe and irrecoverable disappointment the scholars experience in losing their election, merely on account of age; as at nineteen they are superannuated, and cannot afterwards receive any essential benefit from the college.
Not the blue waves of the Engia, covered with the gay feluccas of the Greeks, and spreading their glittering streamers in the sun; nor the more lovely
* This noble seminary of learning was founded by Hen. VI. in
1440. Its establishment was then on a limited scale; it has
long since been enlarged, and now consists of a provost,
vice-provost, six fellows, two schoolmasters, with their
assistants, seventy scholars, seven clerks, and ten
choristers, besides various inferior officers and servants.
The annual election of scholars to King's College,
Cambridge, takes place about the end of July, or the
beginning of August, when the twelve senior scholars are put
on the roll to succeed, but they are not removed till
vacancies occur; the average number of which is about nine
in two years. At nineteen years of age the scholars are
superannuated. Eton sends, also, two scholars to Merton
College, Oxford, where they are denominated post-masters,
and has likewise a few exhibitions of twenty-one guineas
each for its superannuated scholars. The scholars elected to
King's succeed to fellowships at three years' standing.
Adriatic, swelling her translucent bosom to the gentle motion of the gondolier, and bearing on her surface the splendid cars and magnificent pageant of the Doge of Venice, marrying her waters to the sea, can to an English bosom yield half the delight the grand aquatic Eton gala affords; where, decked in every costume fancy can devise, may be seen the noble youth of Britain, her rising statesmen, warriors, and judges, the future guardians of her liberties, wealth, and commerce, all vying with each other in loyal devotion to celebrate the sovereign's natal day.{*} Then doth thy silvery bosom, father Thames, present a spectacle truly delightful; a transparent mirror, studded with gems and stars and splendid pageantry, reflecting a thousand brilliant variegated hues; while, upon thy flowery margin, the loveliest daughters of the land press the green velvet of luxuriant nature, outrivalling in charms of colour, form, and beauty, the rose, the lily, and the graceful pine. There too may be seen the accomplished and the gay youth labouring for pleasure at the healthful oar, while with experienced skill the expert helmsman directs through all thy fragrant windings the trim bark to victory. The race determined, the bright star of eve, outrivalled by the pyrotechnic artiste, hides his diminished head. Now sallies forth the gay Oxonian from the Christopher, ripe with the rare Falernian of mine host, to have his frolic gambol with old friends. Pale Luna, through her misty veil, smiles at these harmless pleasantries, and lends the merry group her aid to smuggle signs, alter names, and play off a thousand fantastic vagaries; while the Eton Townsman, robed in