The abolition was keenly resented by the boys, and on the Whit-Tuesday, when the ceremony should have taken place, the old red flag, which had figured at many Montems, was hung out of one of the windows of Upper School as a signal of revolt, and something like a riot ensued. This was, however, in the main confined to the Lower boys, who, after smashing a few windows (for the repair of which their parents afterwards grumblingly paid), were soon reduced to order.
Numbers of old Etonians sadly shook their heads when they heard that Montem had become a thing of the past, but, as has been said, remonstrance and protest were alike unavailing to make the Eton authorities realise that entire abolition was too drastic a measure.
THE BONE FOR THE MARROW
The truth is that at that period all over England old-fashioned merrymaking was beginning to be checked by the chilling force of that utilitarian commercialism which has since dominated the country. The modern spirit, ever prone to exchange happiness for success, was already making its influence felt, whilst many, under the false impression that romance, tradition, and fancy counted for nothing, were straining every nerve to secure the bone whilst entirely failing to obtain its marrow.
The passing of Montem, besides causing some severe pangs of grief to many an old Etonian, greatly perturbed a number of humbler folk, and its abolition was bitterly lamented by a host of tradesmen, cabmen, omnibus drivers, innkeepers, and the like. Numbers of people derived either pleasure or profit from the triennial celebration. The most sincere mourners were the cab and omnibus drivers, who bitterly regretted their lost harvest, and on the anniversary of the great festival wore black crape upon their arms.
An interesting and curious exhibition of Montem relics and costumes, it may be mentioned, was shown at Eton in the Upper School during the celebration of the 450th anniversary of the foundation of the College. Of the three great Eton festivals, Montem, Election Saturday, and the 4th of June, the last and most modern of the three alone survives. The proceedings on Election Saturday, it should be added, were of a similar kind to those which still take place on the birthday of King George the Third—that is to say, the boats’ crews wore gala dresses and dined at Surly, after which there were fireworks, whilst the bells of Windsor pealed and the crews cheered.
MONTEM ODES
Before leaving the subject of Montem a few words may not be out of place as to a quaint character who was known to many generations of Etonians as the Montem poet. This was Herbert Stockhore, who, dressed in quaint attire in a donkey-cart, was a prominent feature at all Montem celebrations from 1784 to 1835, when he was ninety. Before being chosen Montem poet Stockhore was a Windsor bricklayer living in a little house built by himself, which he called Mount Pleasant, in a lane leading from Windsor to the meadows.
On the 4th of June good old George III. always presented Stockhore with a present of gold, and George IV. continued the kindly practice. At other times Stockhore subsisted entirely upon the bounty of the Etonians and the inhabitants of Windsor and Eton, who never failed to administer to his wants and liberally supply him with many little comforts in return for his harmless pleasantries.
Stockhore had a time-honoured method of composing his odes well calculated to ensure their favourable reception. The quality of his versification was, of course, very moderate. It may be judged from the following, culled from the Montem Ode of 1826 (Pickering’s year):—