I
EARLY DAYS
Amongst public schools Eton admittedly occupies a unique position. Every one admires the beauty of its surroundings, whilst to those possessed of imagination—more especially, of course, if they are Etonians—the school and its traditions cannot fail to appeal.
In addition to many of its associations being connected with glorious chapters of English history, the old quadrangle, chapel, and playing fields possess a peculiar charm of their own, due to a feeling that the spirit of past ages still hovers around them. There is, indeed, a real sentimental pleasure in the thought that many of England’s greatest men laid the foundations of brilliant and successful careers amidst these venerable and picturesque surroundings. No other school can claim to have sent forth such a cohort of distinguished figures to make their mark in the world; and of this fine pageant of boyhood not a few, without doubt, owed their success to the spirit of manly independence and splendid unconscious happiness which the genius of the place seems to have the gift of bestowing.
No other school exercises such an attraction over its old boys as Eton, with many of whom the traditions of the place become almost a second religion. “I hate Eton,” the writer once heard an individual who had been educated elsewhere frankly say, “for whenever I come across two or three old Etonians, and the subject is mentioned, they can talk of nothing else.”
The affection felt for the school is the greatest justification for its existence; an educational institution which can inspire those sent there with a profound and lasting pride and belief in its superiority over all other schools, must of necessity possess some special and fine qualities not to be found elsewhere. The vast majority of boys experience a vague feeling of sentimental regret when the time for leaving arrives—they have a keen sense of the break with a number of old and pleasant associations, soon to become things of the past—the school yard and the venerable old buildings, so lovingly touched by the hand of Time, never seem so attractive as then, whilst the incomparable playing fields, in their summer loveliness, acquire a peculiar and unique charm. As a gifted son of Eton, the late Mr. Mowbray Morris, has so well said, “shaded by their immemorial brotherhood of elms, and kissed by the silver winding river, they will stand undimmed and unforgotten when the memory of many a more famous, many a more splendid scene has passed away.”
FOUNDATION
For the true Etonian there is no such thing as a final parting from these surroundings, the indefinable charm of which remains in his mind up to the last day of his life. Fitly enough, this love for Eton, handed on from generation to generation, and affecting every kind of disposition and character, has been most happily expressed by a poet who was himself an Etonian—John Moultrie. May his lines continue to be applicable to the old school for many ages to come!
And through thy spacious courts, and o’er thy green
Irriguous meadows, swarming as of old,
A youthful generation still is seen,