steepholm: (Default)
[personal profile] steepholm
I may as well carry on as I began, and give excerpts from each chapter...

THE WRITING SCHOOL

... I have already said that the head master here was Mr Hannum. The expression of his face was that of one who suffered mental agonies on account of injuries committed on him by others; his look was austere and sour, and a smile did not become him, for it was mixed up with a frown. To the other masters he was scarcely civil, and they could not like him: one of them quarrelled with him and left. Daily he would show off his authority by suddenly bawling out, "Stop the School." The clamour of voices ceased and everyone listened, knowing what would follow. He then said, "Time is precious, go on again." But occasionally Mr Hannum forgot to do this, and all would miss it, and say, Why is this? Mr Hannum has not said "Stop the School, time is precious, go on again." ...

None of the masters in the Writing School used the cane but Mr Hannum; each of them sent those of his scholars who were to be punished to a certain post and about every twenty minutes the head master came to the post to see if there were any culprits there, and if there were, asked no questions and exercised his privilege, giving two cuts each with the cane, aiming at the tips of the fingers.

... The Greek alphabet is easier to learn than the English at Christ's Hospital, for the Blues have a rhyme to help them with it. Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Knock a woman down and pelt her; Epsilon, Zeta, Heta, Theta, Pick her up again and beat her.

Mr Hill was a very tall man with an extremely small head. His happiness seemed to consist chiefly in endeavouring to make his scholars do justice to the commas, colons and semi-colons in their reading; so much so, that when one failed in his efforts, the fault was resented by the master as if the offender had done him some mean and cowardly injury. Every day he sent several to be caned on this account. But Mr Hill had amiable qualities. One one occasion I made a large blot in my copybook; this being overlooked, his attention was called to it by a little lad next to me; whereupon he excused me, and soundly boxed the lad's ears. He used sometimes to talk of taking us for an excursion. The treat was never realised, but it was kind of him to think of it.

BREAKFAST

... Mr Ludlow [the Steward] was short and stout, wore spectacles, had a red face, and his cheeks moved continually after the manner of a pair of bellows. He had a magisterial authority over the boys, and every complaint was referred to him. Just now he held a wooden hammer, with which he solemnly struck the table. This action was a signal for the singers who led the psalm in "duty" (prayers) to go to their places, and for the reader of the service to ascend the pulpit. ...

After duty, the "trades" who were the Bread-boys, Butter-boys, Milk-boys, Knife-boys, now brought up from the Kitchen large and small baskets and pails for the several Wards. These contained "breads" - pieces of bread each of the same size for every boy, pats of butter, milk and scalding water, knives, wooden spoons and bowls. These things were brought to each Ward by the trades of that Ward. If a bread had two "crugs" (crusts), one, top, the other, bottom, there was no special name for it, it was merely a "bread"; if it had three crugs, it was a "turf" and valued, and if it had four crugs, crust over four of the six sides, it was a "shoe" and very much valued. The lad to whom a shoe was laid felt grateful to the Bread-boy who favoured him with it. In the oven there were slight depressed lines formed by adjoining bricks. These produced the appearance of a cane on the bread baked upon them. A bread with a cane on it was thought unlucky, and I have seen a child shed tears, and implore the breadboy to give him another bread instead. The breadboy replied, "I'm sorry, I can't, I must lay it to some one." ...

As to the quality of the bread, unhappily its flavour was not like that of the "luxent" (enjoyable) bread sold in the shops outside. Some of the breads contained cockroaches, and the search for them was not always successful. When not so, one's two middle upper teeth felt something slippery resisting their pressure. This was the thin but strong coat of a cockroach, and the teeth were set on edge. Once, only once, in my experience, a boy found a mouse in his bread. He took it to Mr Ludlow, thinking this the proper thing to do. Mr Ludlow, however, was waxy, and expressing no sorrow on account of the shocking death of late Mr Mouse, nor any pity for the poor hungry child before him, said testily, "I didn't make the bread, what do you come to me for?"

The boys often converted their butter into curd. The process took away its rankness, but left in it very little taste. They beat together for some time, with a wooden spoon, a fair amount of wet crumbled crumb and their butter, until the substance became a sticky greasy stodge. They then diluted it with milk and water. The curd rose to the surface of the liquid in the bowl, and was taken off and eaten with the dry bread left.

During breakfast the children consulted their "fairies" as to their luck for the day. The fairies were glass bead rings of various colours which they wore on their fingers. The beads were counted according to some method, which I forget, to words, "Fairy, fairy, conjure me to have letters from home today", or "Fairy, fairy, conjure me not to be caned by Mr Keymer", or similarly to other requests. If the sign were not propitious, the child sometimes smacked his ring to punish the fairy. We did not all believe in these charms but liked to wear them as ornaments and consult them for amusement, and thus follow fashion. ...

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-13 10:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sartorias.livejournal.com
Amazing. (and the food sounds criminal.)

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-13 10:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] steepholm.livejournal.com
Yes, I'm beginning to think Oliver Twist had it easy!

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-13 10:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sartorias.livejournal.com
Have you read Orwell's essays about his school? It was dismal in the extreme, especially his descriptions of the food.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-13 10:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] steepholm.livejournal.com
I haven't. He was an Etonian, wasn't he?

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-13 11:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sartorias.livejournal.com
No! He was sent to a miserable school much like the one CS Lewis was sent to--with horrible people who screwed the parents out of their money, feeding the kids horribly, and maltreating them in other ways.

His ire against public school snobbery, as I recall, fulminated mostly in his tirade about Boys' Own Papers and Billy Bunter and the boarding school publishing industry, another one never published during his life. I haven't reread them for decades, so don't trust my memory (which comes in image, not text) but wooee, riveting reading. Riveting.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-14 07:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] steepholm.livejournal.com
Post-google: "Such, such were the joys" - I've heard of it, but not read it. I'll put that to rights. I vaguely knew that he was anti-Billy Bunter, though. I think that factlet stuck, because my mother was an avid reader of The Magnet as a girl, and has a suitcase full of her copies from the '30s in her garage. But, like most readers of boarding school stories (c.f. Harry Potter), she didn't go to boarding school.

It's about his time at St. Cyprian's in Eastbourne. He did in fact go to Eton as well, but not until later in his school career.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-14 01:12 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sartorias.livejournal.com
Ah. If he wrote about Eton, I didn't read it. I wonder what he thought of that experience, considering it's supposed to be the highest rank of total snobbery and exclusivity? Maybe his Eton experience is what pushed him to the left?

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-14 02:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] nineweaving.livejournal.com
Go on! This is fabulous stuff (in retrospect). Of course I can read it with two centuries turned, safely in adulthood, on another continent.

Etonians were just as miserable (the Long Chamber was the stuff of legend) but with better prospects if they survived.

Nine

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-14 08:35 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] steepholm.livejournal.com
Etonians were just as miserable (the Long Chamber was the stuff of legend) but with better prospects if they survived.

Yes, Christ's Hospital, though an ancient school, wasn't a particularly posh one in terms of its pupils' social status. It took a lot of people on reduced or no fees, unlike most public schools, which are only as charitable as they need to be to get the tax breaks.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-14 09:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] karinmollberg.livejournal.com
Phantastic read, thank you! And I sat in Sweden dreaming of going to Oxford, later...which was all Dorothy Sayer´s fault, who had made it seem desirable to me, who thought it made one a genius detective. (I haven´t and never intend to read about Harry Potter but went to a summer course once at Christ Church where I met with middle-aged american ladies dressed in white straw stetson hats sitting straight under the huge portrait of Henry VIII at breakfast.)

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-14 11:11 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] steepholm.livejournal.com
middle-aged american ladies dressed in white straw stetson hats sitting straight under the huge portrait of Henry VIII

Did you take a photo?

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-14 02:12 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] karinmollberg.livejournal.com
I am afraid, I had not suspected encountering anything as astounding at breakfast in Hall in Christ Church College so was taken somewhat by surprise and found myself completely unprepared to deal with it, especially at nine o´clock in the morning.
In fact, I only noticed the mad hatwoman after a while. I was always a little late for breakfast since I was busy trying to be creative while watching The Real Jabberwocky Tree from my window (I paid extra for this;) til two o´clock in the morning over one or the other glass of wine and only started looking around Hall across my Full Monty (bacon, sausages -I am a great fan of Sausage Diet-, eggs and beans) after sitting there, trying to slowly open my eyes, after a little ...while.
My exceedingly charming and inspiring tutor Chris Sykes http://www.cpsykes.co.uk/ sat quite a bit off having his breakfast at the far side of Hall and it was only at meeting his laughing eyes across this amazing place that I took notice of the woman sitting almost immediately beside me. Chris seemed to enjoy himself greatly at watching me first detecting, then being "taken in" by this spectacular statement in Style Matters performed by one pouty-lipped specimen of my own, poor female species.
Btw (as they say in text-speak, these days) I have allowed myself to link to your particular and always excellent site here: http://community.livejournal.com/theboringclub/35181.html and here: http://lupoleboucher.livejournal.com/123935.html and can only hope, you don´t mind too much?!

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-14 02:20 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] steepholm.livejournal.com
I don't mind at all! I'm flattered, in fact, to have TRB's humble cockroach connected with the name of that great vers libre poet, Archy.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-14 09:40 am (UTC)
sheenaghpugh: (Default)
From: [personal profile] sheenaghpugh
What appalling mnemonics!

(no subject)

Date: 2010-08-14 09:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] steepholm.livejournal.com
I know! I'm only glad there aren't Greek letters to rhyme with "Throw her body in a ditch."

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