Part 9

The exact origin of “Montem” is involved in considerable obscurity. Perhaps the most plausible explanation is that it arose in a similar manner as the old Winchester custom of “going on Hills.” Another theory is that the festival was of feudal origin, the tenure of the College estates having been held by the payment of “salt-silver”--an ancient legal term signifying money paid by tenants in certain manors in lieu of service of bringing their lord’s salt from the market. It may have also been originally connected with the curious ceremony of electing a “Boy-Bishop.” In a number of old Montem Lists, which the writer has been fortunate enough to acquire, the parson occupies a prominent place in the procession, coming immediately after the Captain and being followed by the clerk. Both ecclesiastical characters, it should be added, were always personated by Collegers, and it was the custom for them to indulge in gross buffoonery, the parson delivering a burlesque sermon on Salt Hill, down which he afterwards kicked the clerk. In 1778 this proceeding so scandalised Queen Charlotte, who was present, that she begged it might never occur again, and henceforth both parson and clerk ceased to figure in the ceremony.

According to some, the original date for celebrating Montem was December 6th, the very day dedicated to St. Nicholas, and usually chosen for the election of the “Boy-Bishop” in ancient times. Be this as it may, in Elizabeth’s reign the procession took place about the feast of the Conversion of St. Paul. Granted that it was ever celebrated on St. Nicholas’ Day, those who derive it from the “Boy-Bishop” have a coincidence of time in their favour, whence it is not unreasonable to suppose a connection between the triennial festival at Eton and the ancient ecclesiastical mimicry of an episcopal election. Another circumstance favourable to the same supposition is found in a singular custom which formerly made part of the Montem festival. The parson at one period, receiving a Prayer-book, used to read part of the Service to the crowd; which usage bore an obvious resemblance to the mimic services performed by the “Boy-Bishop” in the distant past. Till 1759, when the date was changed to Whit-Tuesday, Montem was annual; it then became biennial, and finally after 1775 triennial.

In those days it had already assimilated some striking features of that curious alliance of licensed mendicity, brigandage, and gaiety--the modern charity bazaar. Of its ancient character as a semi-religious festival nothing remained, and it had become a collection for the benefit of the Captain of the Collegers who might have been fortunate enough to obtain a vacancy at King’s College, Cambridge.

[SN: “MONTEM-SURE”]

The proceedings in College which heralded the approach of Montem were characteristic and peculiar. In former days it was the custom that any vacancy at King’s should be immediately announced at Eton by the “resignation man,” generally the coachman of the Provost of that College, a delay of three weeks all but a day being allowed to the Captain of the school in which he might make his preparations for leaving. If, however, this period of grace should chance to expire on the very eve of Whitsun-Tuesday Montem-day, the right of being Captain would lapse to the Colleger who was next on the list, so that the twentieth day before Whitsun-Tuesday in that year was a very critical day for the Captain and second Colleger. Till midnight it could not be known for certain who would be Captain. The boys called that night “Montem-Sure Night,” when wild excitement prevailed amongst the Collegers in Long Chamber, and as the last stroke of midnight sounded from the clock in Lupton’s Tower, some fifty-two stout oaken beds would be let fall on to the floor with a thundering crash, numberless shutters would be slammed with furious energy, and “Montem-Sure,” shouted by many powerful young throats, would ring out all over Eton.

Whoever was Captain of the school on the Whitsun-Tuesday in a Montem year became _ipso facto_ Captain of Montem. But, as has before been said, the Captain of the school could not be known for certain till within twenty days of the eventful Whitsun-Tuesday.

A King’s scholar could, if he succeeded in passing his “election trials” every year at the end of July, remain at Eton a twelvemonth after passing the last examination, provided he was not yet nineteen. If by that time he had not gone to King’s College, Cambridge, he was superannuated, and had to leave Eton. At the examination at the end of every July those boys who had passed their eighteenth birthday were placed in school order of merit, and were called from thence to Cambridge at any time of the year, whenever, through death, marriage, or any cause, a vacancy occurred in the number of the seventy members of King’s College, in order to supply which King Henry VI. founded his school at Eton of seventy scholars. Montem only happened every third year, for which reason it was only possible that a boy who was born in such a year that he would have passed his eighteenth birthday on the July previous to a Montem could ever become captain of Montem, and obtain the financial benefits accruing from the collection made at that festival.

[SN: “SALT! SALT”]

William Malim, the Headmaster, who wrote an account of Eton for the Royal Commission who visited the school in 1561, thus described the Montem of his day:--

About the festival of the Conversion of Saint Paul, at nine o’clock on a day chosen by the Master, in the accustomed manner in which they go to collect nuts in September, the boys go ad montem. The hill is a sacred spot according to the boyish religion of the Etonians; on account of the beauty of the countryside, the delicious grass, the cool shade of bowers, and the melodious chorus of birds, they make it a holy shrine for Apollo and the Muses, celebrate it in songs, call it Tempe, and extol it above Helicon. Here the novices or new boys, who have not yet submitted to blows in the Eton ranks, manfully and stoutly, for a whole year, are first seasoned with salt and then separately described in little poems which must be as salted and graceful as possible. Next, they make epigrams against the new boys, one vying with another to surpass in all elegance of speech and in witticisms. Whatever comes to the lips may be uttered freely so long as it is in Latin, courteous, and free from scurrility. Finally they wet their faces and cheeks with salt tears, and then at last they are initiated in the rites of the veterans. Ovations follow, and little triumphs, and they rejoice in good earnest, because their labours are past, and because they are admitted to the society of such pleasant comrades. These things finished they turn home at five o’clock and after dinner play till eight.

In the days of Elizabeth, and during the turbulent time of the Civil War, Montem seems to have assumed a more regular and ceremonious form. Only, however, at the beginning of the eighteenth century did it acquire those military characteristics which it retained with little modification till its abolition in 1847. Till the middle of the eighteenth century (1759) it was held in the last week in January, but at that date Whitsun-Tuesday was appointed as the great day. Dr. Barnard it was who altered the dresses and formed the boys into a regular collegiate regiment.

In ancient times the collectors, that is to say the boys who scoured the roads for miles round Eton to collect contributions, carried large bags which actually contained salt, a pinch of which they gave to every contributor as a receipt. In the rough old times, when any boorish-looking countryman after having contributed a trifle asked for salt, it used to be a favourite pleasantry to fill his mouth with it. The last Montem at which salt was actually used seems to have been that of 1793. The cry of “Salt! Salt!” lasted long after tickets had taken the place of the condiment, and, indeed, endured to the end, embroidered bags being proffered to travellers along the roads, who, in return for contributions which varied from fifty pounds to sixpence, were presented with little blue tickets inscribed with one of the Latin Montem mottoes. In the years preceding the abolition of the ceremony, _Mos pro Lege_ and _Pro More et Monte_ were used in alternate years. Not infrequently people who had never heard of the ancient custom were very much astonished at being asked for salt. William the Third, it is said, soon after his accession, had his carriage stopped by Montem runners on the Bath road, and his Dutch guards, being not unnaturally indignant at their monarch being waylaid in such unceremonious fashion, were only prevented from cutting down the boys, whom they took for some kind of highwaymen, by the King himself, who good-naturedly gave the salt-bearers a liberal contribution.

In 1706 Montem would seem to have evolved into something of the same form which it retained till its abolition, the organisation being of a military kind. In that year Stephen Poyntz was captain, Berkeley Seymour lieutenant, Theophilus Thompson ensign, and Anthony Allen marshal, or, as the Montem List always termed it, “mareschal.”

[SN: THE MARCH TO SALT HILL]

In connection with the ceremony, Poyntz composed the following lines:--

Allen pandit iter, Poyntz instruit agmen, Cogit iter Seymour Thompsonque insignia vibrat.

I think I am right in saying that it has hitherto escaped notice that the great Duke of Wellington took part in an “ad Montem.” An old list in my possession shows that at the Montem of June 5th, 1781, Mr. Wesley, as he is termed, marched to Salt Hill as one of the attendants of an Upper boy named Lomax. An appended note adds, “His Grace’s first appearance in arms.” His sons, Lord Douro and Lord Charles Wellesley, marched in the processions of 1820 and 1823.

At the Montem of 1826 Gladstone, in order evidently to express that sympathy for downtrodden nations for which he was so celebrated in after life, went to Salt Hill in Greek costume wearing the fustanella and embroidered cap. This was Pickering’s Montem, and owing to Gladstone and others repressing a good deal of wanton damage, the sum obtained for him was one of the largest on record.

The march to Salt Hill was, of course, always somewhat tumultuous, and much licence prevailed. As time went on efforts were made to purge the fête of its disorderly features, but up to the very end there was a good deal of horseplay and rowdiness amongst the boys; indeed, at the last Montem but one, in 1841, they did great damage to the inns at Salt Hill, whilst it was rare that the gardens of these hostelries came unscathed through the eventful day, owing to the boys slashing the plants and bushes with their swords. If the Captain of Montem happened to be unpopular, much damage was often done, the boys being well aware that on him would fall the burden of compensation, which had to be paid out of the Montem money; and it is said that on one occasion an unfortunate Captain was actually out of pocket owing to the compensation he had to pay.

Montem commenced by a number of the senior boys taking post upon the bridges or other leading places of all the avenues around Windsor and Eton soon after the dawn of day. These runners (or “servitors,” as the Montem List calls them) were indefatigable in collecting salt or money from every one whom they came across, and for seven or eight miles around Eton travellers were liable to be accosted. The runners who worked in outlying districts generally drove in a gig, being accompanied by an attendant dressed in white--well able to protect the runners against violence or robbery. The total of the sums collected was afterwards given to the two salt-bearers--one Colleger and one Oppidan--Upper boys who marched in the rear of the procession. In the earlier part of the day these functionaries remained in the precincts of College. The twelve runners were gorgeously attired in fancy dresses of various kinds, bright colours predominating; they wore plumed hats and buff boots, and carried silken bags strengthened with netting to hold the “salt”--that is the money which they obtained. Their peculiar badges of office were painted staves emblazoned with mottoes at the top, which in most cases consisted of short quotations from Virgil or Horace. “Quando ita majores” was a favourite one. Occasionally, however, the motto was modern, “Nullum jus sine sale,” for instance. Contributors of “salt” received in return a small dated ticket inscribed _Pro More et Monte_ or _Mos pro Lege_. This, placed in a hat or pinned on to a coat, would pass any one free with all runners for the rest of the day.

[SN: MONTEM MORNING]

Nothing could have been prettier or more animated than the old school-yard the morning of a Montem, filled as it was with the boys in their military uniforms of blue and red, or in fancy dresses, for the most part of a rich and tasteful kind. Fantastically attired Turks, Albanians, and Highlanders mingled with courtiers and pages of every age, an additional note of colour being furnished by the bright dresses of numerous female relatives and friends who had come down to Eton to see the show. In addition to the boys in uniform and fancy dress, a considerable number of Lower School who followed at the end of the procession wore the old Eton costume of blue jacket and white trousers, only abandoned after the death of George III. Such boys carried long thin wands about five feet long, which after the ceremonial were, according to immemorial usage, cut in two by the corporals with their swords. Occasionally, however, some of the “polemen,” as they were called, contrived to keep their wands intact to the end of the day--a rare and difficult feat.

At the close of the eighteenth century Montem was often attended by Royalty. The College flag, of rich crimson silk emblazoned with the Eton arms and the motto _Mos pro Lege_ within a wreath of oak and laurel, would on the great day be displayed at one of the Long Chamber windows early in the morning, and at eleven o’clock George III. would generally appear with his family, and be received by the boys with a long-continued roar of huzzas. The King would then be met by the Headmaster at the entrance to the school-yard and conducted to an elaborate breakfast, after which the Royal party would move with the procession towards Salt Hill, the principal scene of the day’s display. A breakfast given by the Captain of Montem in the College Hall continued to be one of the features of the day right up to the last celebration in 1844. In the _Illustrated London News_ of that year can be seen, amongst other interesting pictures of the last Montem, a cut of this banquet. The unrestored Hall is filled with guests, the College flag being suspended above the High Table. After the feast general exhilaration prevailed. My cousin, Sir Algernon West--a survivor of the last Montem, which he attended as a “poleman”--tells me that he has an unpleasant memory of a schoolfellow, who had partaken of the pleasures of the table too freely, prodding him with a sword.

The procession always commenced in the Great Quadrangle at Eton, and proceeded through Eton to Slough, and round to Salt Hill, where the boys all passed before the King or Queen and ascended the Montem; here an oration was delivered, and the Grand Standard was displayed with much grace and activity by the Standard-bearer, selected from among the senior boys.

There were two extraordinary salt-bearers appointed to attend the Royalties; these salt-bearers were always attired in fanciful habits, generally costly and sometimes superb, and each carried an embroidered bag, which not only received the royal salt, but also whatever was collected by the out-stationed runners.

The donation of the King or Queen, or, as it was called, “the royal salt,” was always fifty guineas each; the Prince of Wales thirty guineas; all the other Princes and Princesses twenty guineas each.

[SN: THE WINDMILL]

As soon as the ceremony “ad Montem” was over the Royal Family returned to Windsor. The boys then dined in detachments--seniors separated from juniors--in the taverns at Salt Hill, the gardens at that place being laid out for such ladies and gentlemen as chose to take any refreshment, whilst several bands of music played. The “Windmill Inn,” the garden of which was on the other side of the road, was then often the scene of much riotous festivity, as was a rival house--the “Castle.” The abolition of Montem was, of course, a severe blow to both hostelries. About twenty-five years ago the “Windmill” was about to be converted into a school when a fire broke out and the old building was destroyed. A noticeable feature of the exterior had been some magnificent wistaria, the stems of which were twisted into agonised shapes by the flames. The “Castle” actually did become a school. A large part of the original house was pulled down in 1887 and the rest of the place converted into a compact country residence. The “Windmill” was known to many as “Botham’s,” from the name of its proprietor, who in the palmy days of Montem during the last century divided what was a profitable monopoly with the host of the “Castle,” Partridge by name. The latter’s charges were so high that Foote, after partaking of some refreshment in his hostelry, once told him that he ought to change his name to Woodcock--“on account of the length of his bill.”

[SN: FINANCIAL RESULTS]

After having dined at these inns all the boys returned in the same order of procession as in the morning, and, marching round the Great Quadrangle in Eton School, were dismissed. In the eighteenth century the Captain would then go and pay his respects to the Royal Family at the Queen’s Lodge, Windsor, previous to his departure for King’s College, Cambridge; to defray which expense the produce of the Montem was presented to him. Upon Whit-Tuesday in the year 1796 it amounted to over one thousand guineas. The sum, however, varied considerably in amount, its magnitude being in a great manner determined by his popularity or unpopularity in the school. In the latter case, as has been said, the result of the collection would sometimes be a good deal diminished by damage done in the gardens of the inns at Salt Hill, where ill-disposed boys would destroy the shrubs and flowers with their swords in order to run up the bill. All the other expenses of the day were paid for out of the Salt, and in the latter years of Montem the total collected generally amounted to something between a thousand and eight hundred pounds; but when all disbursements had been made the Captain was very lucky if he got three or four hundred pounds. A proof of this is that when Montem was discontinued in 1847, Dr. Hawtrey gave the boy who would have been Captain two hundred pounds contributed by himself and a few friends out of their own pockets as compensation. This sum the Headmaster had ascertained was a fair equivalent for the net amount usually pocketed by the Captain after all expenses had been paid. These outgoings, it must be remembered, were large, including as they did a breakfast to the whole of the Fifth and Sixth Forms and a dinner to personal friends in the evening, in addition to which there were numerous other disbursements which amounted to a considerable sum.

In an early account of Montem _circa_ 1560 there is a reference to the new boys, termed “recentes,” being seasoned with salt, meaning probably that they had to make some small monetary contribution; for up to the last Montem celebration, by reason of a curious usage, the origin of which was unknown, boys who had come to Eton within the preceding year were expected to pay the Captain a small sum called “recent-money.”

At the last celebrations of Montem the order of procession differed somewhat from that observed in olden days. It was then headed by the marshal, followed by six attendants; band; captain, followed by eight attendants; sergeant-major, followed by two attendants; twelve sergeants, two and two, each followed by an attendant; colonel, followed by six attendants and four polemen; corporals, two and two, followed by two polemen apiece; second band; ensign with flag, followed by six attendants and four polemen; corporals, two and two, followed by one or two polemen apiece; lieutenant, followed by four attendants; salt-bearers, runners, and stewards; and a poleman brought up the rear of the procession.

The flag was always solemnly waved in the school-yard before the procession started, and on arriving at Salt Hill it was waved a second time at the top of the mount, the boys all clustering round like a swarm of bees and cheering with great vigour. Great importance was always attached to the waving of the College standard in a proper manner, and for a long time previous to Montem day the Ensign practised for hours in Long Chamber. The old traditional way of manipulating the banner was as far as possible followed, the custom being to wave it round in every direction and conclude by one triumphant final flourish which was the grand climax of the whole celebration.

[SN: AN ETON REGIMENT]

A complete military organisation with regular uniforms was adopted by the school on Montem day, and Eton became a collegiate regiment. The senior Colleger ranked as captain, the second salt-bearer as marshal, the other Sixth-Form Collegers becoming ensign, lieutenant, sergeant-major, and steward; any other Sixth-Form Collegers not acting as runners were sergeants. The captain of the Oppidans was always a salt-bearer by right, whilst the next to him on the school list was colonel; the other Sixth-Form Oppidans ranked as sergeants. All the Fifth-Form Oppidans were corporals and wore red tail-coats with gilt buttons and white trousers. They had also crimson sashes round their waists, black leather sword-belts, and swords hanging by their sides. A cocked hat and plume of feathers exactly like that worn by field-officers completed this martial attire. The Fifth-Form Collegers’ dress was like that of the Fifth-Form Oppidans, insomuch as they donned sash, sword, cocked hat, and plume; but their coats were blue instead of red, so that they resembled naval officers more than military men. The coats of the Sixth Form, both Collegers and Oppidans, had distinctive details of uniform denoting rank, which could be at once distinguished from the various forms of epaulet and great or little prevalence of gilt. The steward wore the ordinary full dress of the period. The Lower boys who acted as polemen wore the old Eton costume--blue coats with gilt buttons, white waistcoats and trousers, silk stockings and pumps. The pages of the Sixth Form and others were attired in fancy dresses, often of a rich description. A feature of the last Montem uniforms were the buttons. These bore the Eton arms, Royal crown, and motto, _Mos pro Lege_, together with the date of the foundation of the College.

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.