Montem coats were allowed to be worn after the great day was over, but the boys suffered for this privilege, most masters generally selecting them to construe in preference to their more soberly clad schoolmates. One master, indeed, became so notorious for this that eventually his whole division appeared in red coats, so as to prevent any particular boys from being singled out. The last Montem coat worn at Eton is said to have been observed in 1847.

As a general rule pretty good order seems to have been preserved in connection with Montem, and this is the more wonderful when one remembers that a large number of the boys wore real swords and indulged in liberal potations at the inns at Salt Hill. In 1796, it is true, some disorder did occur near the historic mount, a large crowd surging around the carriage in which sat the Queen and the Princesses. George III., however, soon put matters to rights by calling out to some of the worst offenders, “Surely you are not Etonians?” adding that he did not remember their faces, and felt sure Eton boys would be better behaved. Three years later, at the Montem of 1799, an Eton boy made a mistake of which he was afterwards much ashamed. As the procession was moving along, a visitor on a spirited and fiery horse kept pressing closer to it than was pleasant, and one of the sergeants, a youth named Beckett, putting one hand significantly upon his sword-hilt and the other on the rider’s knee, exclaimed in a bold manner, “I should recommend you, my friend, not to let your horse tread upon Me.” In reply to this the horseman merely smiled, bowed, and drew his horse away. It was afterwards discovered that the stranger was the King of Hanover. Altogether Montem was a day of great enjoyment for those who were present at it, much jollity and fun of the old English sort being one of its chief characteristics. Most of the visitors were well acquainted with its traditions and entered thoroughly into its spirit. A favourite joke was to make a pretence of refusing to contribute whilst concealing the little blue paper receipt previously received as quittance for salt paid.

THE PLEASURES OF MONTEM

“I will not attempt to reason with you about the pleasures of Montem,” said an old Etonian, who was defending the old festival against the attacks of one of those hawk-eyed commercial gamblers who, calling themselves “business men,” dominate the modern world; “but to an Etonian it is enough that it brought pure and ennobling recollections—evoked associations of hope and happiness—and made even the wise feel that there was something better than wisdom, and the rich something nobler than wealth. I like to think of the faces I saw round the old mount, recalling school friendships and generous rivalries. At the last Montem I attended, it is true I saw fifty fellows of whom I remember only the nicknames—not a few degenerated into scheming M.P.’s, cunning lawyers, or speculators—but at Montem one forgot all that. Leaving the plodding world of reality for one day, such men regained the dignity of Sixth-Form Etonians.”

The last celebration of Montem took place on Whitsun-Tuesday in 1844, on which occasion some of its ancient features were altered. The dinner, for instance, took place on Fellow’s Eyot, within the College precincts, instead of at Salt Hill, the boys having also to answer to their names in the playing fields. An ominous sign, which seemed to forebode that the ancient ceremony was soon to be discontinued for ever, was that in the last year of Montem the famous cry of “Montem Sure” was not heard to ring out of the Long Chamber windows, no bedsteads crashed, and no shutters banged. Montem, it is true, still lived, but it seemed to be felt that its end was near. Nevertheless, the procession took place according to immemorial usage, and the fancifully attired throng of boys, accompanied by a crowd of carriages, foot and horse, wended its way to the classic mount where the ceremonial which countless generations of Etonians had gone through was duly performed. Prince Albert, for instance, was stopped on Windsor Bridge, and in compliance with a request for salt, gave £100. At Salt Hill the bands played merrily, and the crowd of boys and old Etonians cheered as of yore when, for the last time on the summit of the mount the Ensign waved the historic College banner, inscribed with the quaint old motto, Pro More et Monte. Not a few, however, amongst the throng gathered there had a presentiment that they were assisting at the obsequies of the time-honoured ceremony, and as they wended their way back to town felt that Montem was now to be numbered with the many other old-world festivals which so-called progress was sweeping away.

These gloomy forebodings proved to be only too well founded. Montem, indeed, had become somewhat incongruous with the changed spirit which was producing a purely utilitarian age. The facilities afforded by the then newly constructed railway also flooded Eton and Slough with hordes of visitors, many of them highly undesirable, besides which the Press was none too tender in the attitude which it adopted towards the old festival.

THE “HOLBORN MONTEM”

In June 1844, for instance, Punch published an amusing, if rather malicious, illustrated attack upon the Eton festival, entitled “The Holborn Montem,” in which it pictured the effect which would be produced were a number of London ragamuffins permitted to hold up foot-passengers and omnibuses whilst making demands for salt. Dr. Hawtrey, the Headmaster, was bitterly opposed to the continuance of the old ceremony, and to him and to the Provost it owed its abolition. The remainder of the College authorities were about equally divided in their opinions. When Provost Hodgson put the matter before them they voted as follows:—

For abolishing Montem.For preserving Montem.
Hodgson, Provost.Plumtre.
Grover, Vice-Provost.Carter.
Bethell.Dupuis.
Green.Wilder.

Queen Victoria personally is known to have been opposed to the abolition; nevertheless she did not care to interfere, and in 1847 it was announced that no celebration of Montem would take place, and though many earnest representations were made by old Etonians to Dr. Hawtrey, the decision to abolish Montem was maintained. Had the Provost been of the same type as Dr. Goodall, some semblance at least of the ancient ceremony would have been preserved, but the post happened to be held by Provost Hodgson, the friend of Byron, who, though a man of poetical turn of mind, was a great reformer. He made many changes in College, and abolished the horrors of Long Chamber, which is much to his credit. On the other hand, he was perhaps too thorough-going in doing away with the ancient festival of Montem, which might have been preserved in an altered form. Per se it was, in many respects, indefensible, being full of absurdities; nevertheless it might have been continued in some reformed and improved shape.