the Paddington station, in exactly thirty minutes, and an omnibus soon deposited us at Eton. The emotions excited by a view of Eton College are of a far different nature from those associated with Windsor. Eton is fraught with a peculiar interest of its own. As we enter the venerable walls of the College, it is impossible not to call to mind that from this place have issued some of our greatest statesmen, philosophers, and poets. Here, amongst other great men, the learned John Hale, Sir Robert Walpole, Harley, Earl of Oxford; Lord Bolingbroke, Earl Cambden, the celebrated Earl of Chatham, Oughtred, the mathematician, Boyle, the philosopher; Lord Littleton, Gray, Horace Walpole, West, Waller, Fox, Canning, the Marquess Wellesley; the historian Hallam, and, though last, by no means least, the Duke of Wellington, were educated. Here, probably, the impulses of ambition were first excited in their breasts, and here they may have been warmed with the flush of those glorious feelings, the outbreaking of which has made their names an honour to their country. As we sauntered through the courts of the College, we called to mind the numerous great and good men who have been educated at Eton, and thought that many, perhaps in the zenith of their fame, had revisited its classic shades, and acknowledged how far preferable was the freshness of heart which accompanied the thoughtless school-boy, to all the laurels which they had since reaped. Many, perhaps, beneath its venerable elms, have wept over their early friendships, and breathed a sigh at the recollection of that day, when they were launched from the sunny stream of childhood into the stormy ocean of public life. That this is the case with at least one great man,-one who is equally an honour to his country, as to the school in which he was educated,-is evident from the following beautiful apostrophe : Me, when thy shade and Thames's meads and flowers May memory bring to me my long-past hours, Come, parent Eton; turn the stream of time Back to thy sacred fountain crowned with bays, Recall my brightest, sweetest days of prime, Guided by Thee, I raised my youthful sight O blest Instruction! friend to generous youth! And wake her lyre to strains of faith divine." Beautiful as these lines of Lord Wellesley's are, they are exceeded by his original Latin composition on the same subject; remarkable as having been written by a great statesman in his eightieth year, yet warm with all the freshness of youth, and the ardour of a true Etonian. The enthusiasm of my companion, who had not visited Eton since his school-boy days, knew no bounds. Everything he saw delighted him, because he was reminded of some youthful prank, or some incident almost forgotten, until the spot where it had taken place brought it afresh to his recollection. He was ready to exclaim with the poet, ers; We visited every hole and corner which were accessible to strangtalked of floggings and Montem, Dr. Keate and the late Provost, and then adjourned to "The Christopher," to partake of one of Mr. Clark's good dinners, and afterwards strolled about in the evening till it was time to take our departure by the last train. The object of my companion in accompanying me to Eton was to explore the scenes of his youth ;-mine was to assist my memory, in order to produce an article for the next number of Mr. Bentley's Miscellany, and to indulge my fondness for viewing the fine chapel, and the interesting buildings which adjoin it. Eton college was founded in the year 1440 by that unfortunate king, Henry the Sixth, and established nearly on the same footing as that adopted by William of Wykham for his seminary at Winchester. The foundation at present consists of a Provost, Vice-Provost, six fellows, a head master, lower master, ten assistants, seventy scholars, seven lay clerks, and ten choristers. Besides these, there are an unlimited number of scholars who derive no advantage from the College, and who are styled oppidans. Those on the foundation are called King's Scholars, or familiarly Collegers, and are distinguished from the others by wearing a black cloth gown. The total number has generally amounted to about five hundred and fifty, although this number is frequently exceeded. In immediate connection with Eton is King's College at Cambridge, to which establishment, as vacancies occur in it, the senior "King's Scholars" are elected from Eton every year. Here they are enabled to complete their education free of expense, and at the end of three years are admitted to fellowships, without passing through any preparatory examination. The College of Eton is divided into two courts, or quadrangles. In the first of these are the chapel, the upper and lower schools, the apartments of the head and second master, and those set apart for the scholars on the foundation,-the oppidans being lodged in boarding-houses in the town. In the other quadrangle are the lodgings of the Provost and Fellows, the great dining-hall, and the library of the College. The chapel is a fine old Gothic structure: but, with the exception of a monument to Sir Henry Wotton, who was a lay provost of the College, contains no memorial of any particular interest. At the west end of the ante-chapel there is a beautiful marble statue of the founder in his regal robes, executed by Bacon, in the year 1763On the monument of Sir Henry Wotton is the following remarkable inscription: Hic jacet hujus sententiæ primus auctor"Disputandi pruritus sit ecclesiarum scabies." Nomen aliàs quære. Or, in English, Here lies the Author of this sentence, May an itching for dispute be the scab of the Church." Seek his name elsewhere. In the centre of the principal court is another statue of the founder in bronze. On its pedestal is an inscription, purporting that it was placed there in 1719, by Henry Godolphin, then Provost of the College. The upper school-room in this court, with its stone arcade beneath, and the apartments immediately attached to it, were built by Sir Christopher Wren, at the expense of Dr. Allestre, who was Provost in the reign of Charles the Second. The library, besides a curious and highly valuable collection of books, contains an excellent assortment of Oriental and Egyptian manuscripts, many beautifully illuminated missals, and other literary curiosities. It has frequently been added to by the bequests of different persons who have borne an affection to this venerable seat of learning. Amongst these are Dr. Waddington, Bishop of Chester; Mr. Mawn, Master of the Charter-House; Richard Topham, Keeper of the Records in the Tower; Anthony Storer; and the Rev. Mr. Hetherington, a fellow of the College. Over one of the fire-places is a fine painting of the founder on the panel. The apartments of the Provost contain the portraits of many learned individuals who have been his predecessors in that office, amongst whom are Sir Thomas Smith, well known as a statesman; Dr. Stewart, Clerk of the Closet of Charles the First; Sir Henry Saville, and Sir Henry Wotton. There are also half-length portraits of Queen Elizabeth and Sir Robert Walpole. In one of the rooms is a painting of a female on a panel, said to be the unfortunate Jane Shore. The supposition principally arises from a belief that her confessor was a Provost of the College, for there is nothing in the portrait that gives any idea of the pre-eminence in beauty which we attach to this celebrated female. The forehead is high and broad, and the hair auburn; but the other features are small, and devoid of interest. These characteristics also distinguish her portrait in Hampton Court Palace. Having given this cursory account of Eton, it will be expected that something should be said on the celebrated triennial pageant of the Montem. At this ancient ceremony, as is well known, contributions are levied from all passengers and visiters, and the amount presented to the boy who has the good fortune to be at the head of the school, at the time the Montem takes place. For this purpose the whole of the scholars, habited in different fancy-dresses, march in grand procession to the neighbouring village of Salt-Hill, where a dinner is provided for them, and the money, or salt, which sometimes exceeds one thousand pounds, presented to the head-boy, who is styled for the day, Captain. It is impossible to detail all the different customs and ceremonies which take place during these juvenile saturnalia; a general notion, how ever, may perhaps be formed from the following passage, which is extracted from an article published some years ago in Mr. Knight's Quarterly Magazine, and is evidently written by an Etonian. We reached, at length, the foot of the mount, a very respectable barrow, which never dreamt in its Druidical age of the interest which it now excites, and the honours which now await it. Its sides are clothed with mechanics in their holiday suits, and happy dairy maids in their Sunday gear. At its base sit Peeresses in their barouches, and Earls in all the honours of four-in-hand. The flag is waved; the scarlet coats and the crimson plumes again float amongst us, and the whole earth seems made for one universal holiday. I love the nomeaning of Montem. I love to be asked for 'salt' by a pretty boy in silk stockings and satin doublet; though the custom has been called something between robbing and begging. I love the apologetical 'mos pro lege,' which defies the police and the Mendicity Society. I love the absurdity of a Captain taking precedence of a Marshal, and a Marshal bearing a gilt baton, at an angle of forty-five degrees from his right hip; and an ensign flourishing a flag with the grace of a tightrope dancer; and Serjeants paged by fair-skinned Indians, and beardless Turks; and Corporals in sashes and gorgets, guarded by innocent polemen in blue jackets and white trowsers. I love the mixture of real and mock dignity; the Provost, in his cassock, clearing the way for the Duchess of Leinster to see the Ensign make his bow; or the Head Master gravely dispensing his leave till nine to Counts of the Holy Roman Empire, and Grand Seigniors. I love the crush in the Cloisters, and the mob on the Mount. I love the clatter of carriages, and the plunging of horsemen. I love the universal gaiety, from the peer who smiles, and sighs that he is no longer an Eton boy, to the country-girl, who marvels that such little gentlemen have cocked hats and real swords. I will not attempt to reason about the pleasures of Montem; but to an Etonian it is enough that it brings pure and ennobling recollections, calls up associations of hope and happiness, and makes even the wise feel that there is something better than wisdom, and the great, that there is something nobler than greatness. And then the faces that come about us at such a time, with their tales of old friendships, or generous rivalries. I have seen to-day fifty old schoolfellows, of whom I remember only the nicknames; they are now degenerated into scheming M.P.'s, or clever lawyers, or portly doctors; but at Montem they leave the plodding world of reality for one day, and regain the dignity of sixth-form Etonians.' It is, indeed, a bright and joyous scene; and, in spite of the stern verdicts of uncompromising censors, may the time be far distant when its innocent buffooneries shall be at an end, and it shall cease to be a jubilee for thousands. It is one of those scenes which an assemblage of youth, and health, and high spirits, alone can produce; it holds before us a mirror of the past, and brings back that early freshness of the heart for which wealth and worldly grandeur are but ill-exchanged. In addition to the objects which have already been pointed out as worthy of the stranger's notice, he must not forget to visit the interior of the Upper and Lower Schools, on the walls of which he will discover the names of many celebrated men who have been educated at Eton, and which Pepys tells us in his Memoirs they were in the habit of carving on the shutters of the windows in his time. He should also stroll into the playing fields, with their rich verdure and venerable elms; the Thames calmly rippling along their banks, and Windsor Castle towering in the distance. This fine pile of buildings is, perhaps, seen to greater advantage from these fields than from any other spot, especially when the last faint gleams of a setting-sun rest upon them. Nothing, indeed, can be more beautiful than the whole appearance of the Castle, with its numerous towers and Gothic chapel: we call to mind the many interesting events which from the most remote periods of our history have taken place within its walls. We think of Herne's Oak, the Merry Wives of Windsor, Shakspeare, Falstaff, and all the associations with which they are connected. Our thoughts wander to Runnemede, King John, and Magna Charta; a distant wooded rising-ground reminds us of Cooper's Hill, and Sir John Denham; and then we revert to Windsor Forest, and Pope, and long to wander over the classic scenes connected with the poet and his song, "Thy forests, Windsor, and thy green retreats." The Thames, too, is not without its interest, and how delightfully it winds through Datchet! Here the celebrated Provost of Eton, Sir Henry Wotton, and his old friend and companion, the good Izaac Walton, enjoyed together the amusement of the rod and line, not improbably seated on that pretty ait which still belongs to the Provost and Fellows of Eton College. Here, also, Charles the Second sometimes resorted to pass a few idle hours in catching gudgeons, which still abound in this part of the river. This circumstance in his history, which is perhaps not generally known, is referred to in the following lines, attributed in the State Poems to Lord Rochester. "Methinks I see our mighty Monarch stand, Pleased with the sport, good man; nor does he know Fine representative, indeed, of God, Whose sceptre's dwindled to a fishing-rod! Such was Domitian in his Romans' eyes, When his great godship stooped to catching flies. Bless us, what pretty sport have deities! But see, he now does up from Datchet come, Laden with spoils of slaughtered gudgeons, home. Nor is he warned by their unhappy fate, But greedily he swallows every bait, A prey to every King-fisher of state." We might mention the annual festival at Surly Hall, and the interesting sight on the river of the numerous boats rowed to that place by Eton boys; but it is time to conclude. "Floreat Etona." It is an old motto, and a pure aspiration; and long may she flou. rish, with her classic courts and happy faces, undisturbed by the desolating mania of reform, and the dangerous experiments of modern improvements. Hampton Court, E. J. |