Election Saturday, the glories of which have now departed for ever, was a great day not only for those in College, whom it more immediately concerned, but for the whole school. At two o’clock the Provost of King’s College, Cambridge, attended by two examiners called “Posers,” drove into Weston’s Yard. The arrival of his yellow coach, drawn by four smoking horses, always produced great excitement. Meeting the Provost of Eton, a kiss of peace was exchanged (abandoned in Dr. Hawtrey’s days for a handshake). A speech was then made in Latin by the captain of the school under the archway of Lupton’s Tower, its main purport being the offering of congratulations to the Provost on his arrival at the College. The rest of the programme was much the same as that still gone through on the 4th of June—speeches in the Upper School at eleven, banquet of dons in the College Hall at two, processions of the boats in the evening to Surly Hall, with fireworks off the Eyot on the return, and finally, sock suppers in all the houses. The fun on Election Saturday, however, was always more fast and furious than on the 4th of June, because the school was to break up on the following Monday, and the boys who were going to leave looked upon themselves as already emancipated. For this reason turbulent spirits did not scruple to commit all sorts of extravagances, being pretty sure that just preceding the holidays they would escape unpunished.
THE POSERS
On the Tuesday and Wednesday following, candidates for College were examined, as well as scholars seeking election to King’s. The “Posers,” or examining chaplains, were terrific gentlemen in the eyes of the boys; whilst examination took place, Election-chamber was to most an awful room, then rendered somewhat weird and uncanny by the light filtering through an immense red curtain, let down at the large oriel window, which imparted a sort of devilish appearance to the “Posers.”
A very quaint old usage existed in connection with these “Posers,” each of them being attended by a Colleger, who waited upon him in Hall and elsewhere if required, for which the boy—quaintly called the “Poser’s child”—received a fee of a guinea, selection for the office by the Headmaster being regarded as being a sort of minor honour. The existence of this curious custom, which of course died a natural death with the “Posers” themselves, has generally, I think, escaped mention in books dealing with Eton. It was brought to my notice by my old tutor, Mr. H. W. Mozley (Newcastle Scholar, 1860), who in this and other ways has given me valuable information which I here acknowledge; he himself had been “Poser’s child” in 1859.
The days following Election Saturday were always particularly depressing and gloomy, and the poor King’s scholars had a melancholy time. The gentlemen, as the tradespeople had the impertinence to call the Oppidans, went home on the Monday, whilst Collegers had to wait until the Thursday. All the shops were shut up, and scarcely any one about.
Collegers, like Oppidans, then remained at Eton longer than at present—as late as 1874 there was a King’s Scholar, Tuck by name, who was said to have been nine years at the school. In the days when such a close connection existed between Eton and King’s, a Colleger leaving to go to Cambridge used to go through the old form known as “Ripping.” This was performed at the Provost’s Lodge. The two folds of the Colleger’s serge gown were sewn together in front, and the Provost “ripped” them asunder, pronouncing some Latin formula, after which he congratulated the embryo scholar of King’s, and gave him good advice as to his future career. The gown, it must be remembered, was then an essential part of the Colleger’s equipment out of as well as in school. Although the rule was not strictly adhered to, they were even supposed to wear their gowns whilst playing games.
ETON’S DIVORCE FROM KINGS
All the picturesque features of Election disappeared in the sixties, when new statutes were substituted for those of the Founder, and the relations between King’s College, Cambridge, and Eton entirely changed. In 1861 William Austen Leigh and Felix Cobbold were elected to King’s. With them ended the ancient succession of Eton scholars after it had continued, with few if any interruptions, under the statutes of Henry VI., for the period of four hundred and nineteen years, William Hatecliffe (1443), afterwards Secretary to King Edward IV., and Felix Thornley Cobbold (1862) being the first and last scholars. The right of the latter to a scholarship at King’s was, it should be added, disputed, as was that of William Austen Leigh, the Provost and Fellows of the Cambridge College urging that the new statutes were already in operation. This question, which never ought to have been raised, inasmuch as the names of these boys were on the indenture before the existence of the new statutes, was submitted to legal opinion and then to the “Visitor.” It was eventually justly decided that the two Eton scholars were entitled to scholarships at King’s College, with all their rights, emoluments, and consequences, and with this terminated the ancient and sisterly connection between the two Foundations.
The new statutes provided that four scholarships at King’s should be annually offered for competition to the scholars of Eton, tenable for six years, value £80 per annum, with tuition, rooms, and commons free. The injury done to the interests of Eton by the new arrangements was very great, for four scholarships per annum did not amount to the average of the old succession, which ranged from four and a half to five, while the difference between a scholarship of six years’ tenure and one which led to a Fellowship that might be held for life was so great as to be difficult to calculate. The remarkable features in these iniquitous changes were the earnestness with which they were pressed by King’s, which seemingly was anxious to rid itself of its connection with Eton—that is, as far as it could—and the weakness of Eton and its dereliction of duty to itself and its scholars in acquiescing in them without any attempt to obtain any mitigation or revision which might certainly have been effected. Henry Norris Churton, the first Colleger to be affected by the new state of affairs, declined to accept the scholarship at King’s to which he was elected in July, but Richard Durnford, elected in the same month, did accept, and thus became the first Eton scholar who went to King’s under the new statutes.
A few years later—in 1871—the repeal of the entire code of statutes which had regulated Eton since the 21st December, 1443, did a good deal more towards nullifying the wishes of Henry VI. The old statutes laid down that there should be seventy poor scholars—an important clause which the new ones abolished. At present, directly contrary to the Founder’s intention, there is nothing to prevent the son of a multi-millionaire from competing for an Eton scholarship.