Thursday, July 06, 2006
Downside September 1948-July 1953.
I was actually known as POPE J.B. recycled number 578 on one’s Cash’s name tape, but in the great scheme of things hold the dynastic number 3992. I was disadvantaged in that an elder half brother of different surname had left the school the previous December. He had been the vice Captain of cricket, and won an Exhibition to Cambridge and only then did he have to start counting the lesser honours to which I later aspired. Well of course in 1948 the monastic staff was aware of my kinship. It saddened me to see first the sports masters, and then the ministers of academe turn away with a disappointed look on their face after first meeting me. I did not arrive at the school with any pretension to intellectual prowess. I suppose that if one had been brighter one might have founded the Dyslexia Society; or been unashamed to announce that one detested playing Games, doing Gymnastics or Boxing or idling ones youth away playing Cricket. In all my time there I never owned a Hockey stick. One had played Rugby previously, and so played it again being seemingly the proper shape to be a back row forward. ‘Put your head to his buttocks and shove’ was all that was expected of one. In the end one made the house team, and possibly occasionally the second fifteen. I enjoyed being in the Signal’s Platoon of the School Corps, because my hobby was making wireless sets, and I was prepared to go along with all the drill because that was expected of one. It was a time of National Service, and part of getting a Commission after Downside was that one had both Certificate A and B. and had passed the Empire Shooting Test, the latter an achievement for anyone who hadn’t actually shot one of his fellow cadets. One boy once told me that I liked the Corps because it was the only thing I was any good at. I hear he made a great success in his chosen career of Priest.
I think I reached Downside on the strength of my half brother’s Academic reputation and a cracking good report from Prep School that told what a splendid sort of a chap I was, despite everything.
Another disadvantage was that my widowed mother could not afford the fees, so one never quite had any money to spend on non essentials. Even one’s very basic requirements were a financial drain. Hence no hockey stick! One felt at lest financial empathy with Dickie Attenborough’s (Now Lord Attenborough H.v-z.) role as the ‘Guinea pig’. My relative penury arose through the demands of Chancery. We too awaited ‘Judgement on the day of Judgement’.
I had arrived at Downside one sunny September afternoon accompanied by my mother. First a train and then the bus from Bath. We had shared that with another new boy, whose father is well known as one of England’s most famed Composers. Unfortunately neither mother nor I had then heard of him, one hopes such ignorance did not depress Francis’ mother too much. Did I hear that Eton at least used to list boys not by name, but by order of the importance of their parents? There is much one might say in favour of the system. It wouldn’t have affected me, for any early seniority I had in the upper school was purely of an alphabetical nature.
One was greeted by ‘Tom’ the School Porter in the gate keeper sense of the word. His very smart cap was reserved for wear either on the first day of a school year, or on prize day. Tom was the most significant member of the ancillary staff, and so in our eyes out ranked his son Tony, who was the School Secretary. In Tom’s long experience new boys went into the Junior House, and that was all there was to it. Standing corrected as one was it took a while to extricate oneself from such disappointing information. Fortunately he was incorrect for I too, amidst many others that term, was but a post war anachronism. Downside had welcomed late arrivals to fill the accommodation recently vacated by the daughter foundation Worth School. As we had all missed out on the bonding delights of the Junior House then controlled by the Rev. Simon Van Zeller, every new boy of an age in every other house was installed in the Remove Dormitory. A rather capacious space that seemingly squatted between Smythe and the Junior house. It had a small room off, to accommodate a duty Prefect. It was cold it was cheerless and formed no part of the Headmaster’s conducted school tour. Thinking back on it, it was akin to an old Nightingale Ward in any Crimean Hospital, without the pleasure of the nurses.
It was there that I cultivated my reserve. Ones new friends had found the Common Entrance exam so easy, and all were in Forms higher than mine. If I wasn’t in the Junior House, I certainly met up with its lesser progeny in the classroom as I struggled to keep afloat. Somehow I finished off that first year with the form prize, in ‘Litteris Humanioribus’, I am sure that doesn’t translate as good conduct. Possibly it was for being the most trying!
Apart from that Dormitory business, one was in Barlow House; it had a new house master. Rev Cuthbert Mc Cann known, following mention in the under counter publication ‘The Rook’, as ‘The Nip of the Downside Corps Oh!’ for he had an alter ego as o/c the School Corps, and a pair of spectacles that did not fit. Four words spoken entitled him to one push up on the bridge of the frame to restore perfect vision. Head of House was A.L.Hayes Newington. I believe he was also the senior under officer of the school corps. He was only there that one last term before the army, but it’s a small world. My wife has been partnered with him either side of the same horse when assisting at Riding for the Disabled ‘You Jane? Me Tony’ the only introduction. I had seen such a recognisable name listed, but my wife said she had never met him. In one’s first year at the bottom of the house, one ‘fagged’ for Prefects. I understand from American friends that the term no longer has the same connotation. The idea was that one cleaned some Prefect’s shoes and blancoed his Corps webbing and that was more or less it. In return one might expect to receive not merely patronage, but have one’s Cinema paid for and very possibly be fed free buns. My fag-master Bobby L. was a very agreeable fellow but had apparently been unaware of the largesse of others. I never caused him any trouble, but when I eventually acquired a fag of my own, within some twenty minutes of his appointment he had redecorated my study with Spanish Bull Fighting Posters. His year was made of stronger stuff than ours.
At the time all classes tended to disperse after each lesson prior to re-grouping in a different classroom under the auspices of a different master who had in turn come from another classroom himself. The School Timetable was a work of Mathematical Art produced by Major A. H. Page who later succeeded the ‘Nip of the Downside Corps Oh’, as O/c the CCF. One heard he had received National commendation for having produced the best of School Timetables.
All teachers were male. Both School and Village were distinctly short on ladies; although there was an unending supply of fresh Irish maidens on the other side of the green baize door. One of whom was very upset when she heard herself described as a Hag, for such was their trade description. Cleaning was done by Jhons. Their main occupation seemed to be resurfacing the acreage of parquet flooring. All spoke Somerzet and possibly had seen war service. Prior to a fire some years after I left the School there was Gymnasium-Wing, this too not on the Headmaster’s guided tour for ‘prospective’ parents. Although Sgt. Phillips APTC had charge of the Gymnastics, his Gym doubled as the school Cinema, and Theatre. Adjoined to it were other men at work. Our ex. Army Barber a man full of Barrack Room Ballads, he proudly exhibited a length of a Bull’s Anatomy on his premises that new boys had the guessing of. Mr Skinner was the School Tailor, who kept very busy be-suiting one and all. I had the impression his clientele included the Monastery. There was too the Band room, and the Carpentry Workshop and the Armoury with the Office and Store of our ex. Irish Guards Regimental Sergeant-Major Patrick O’Connor. He divided his time between the Corps and the Rugger Field be that at Downside or Twickenham. More importantly the gym-wing accommodated what was to become my Holy of Holies the Corps Signals Room. There was also a separate building where Fr. Edmund ‘Spanner’ Lee ran his workshop. Apart from teaching practical engineering to some, he also taught Maths, and had the reputation of being an expert on the trajectory path of a blackboard rubber. He had built a wonderful Miniature Steam Locomotive and was responsible for the construction of the railway line that train ran along.
The School Surgery backed onto the Armoury, maybe both were in the Old House. This was Matron’s domain where assisted by either of two Nurses she supervised both Surgery and the Sanatorium overhead. Doctor Carter was an Old Boy of the School well versed when it came to relocating shoulders beside the Rugger field. It was I that put him to the test in September 1952 having returned to the School in pain after an exchange holiday with a friend in France. I was treated for the whole term and be sported myself under Sister’s Infra Red lamp for many a week without any explanation being given, until being sent home at the end of term with a bottle of Vitamin B12 (Complex) and a letter that diagnosed my problem as what was then known as Infantile Paralysis. Polio Mellitus. I still feel fortunate to have got off so lightly. One can if necessary play up the residual limp, whilst feeling fortunate to have avoided the yet to be developed Salk vaccine. One of Father Cuthbert’s favourite pronouncements was that ‘Man is a Social Animal’ it said much for my gregarious nature that no one else’ except a couple of young lady friends back home got my polio; nor any prior to that the mumps which I had enjoyed in Solitary splendour.
The Headmaster was the Rev.Wilfred Passmore, later both Prior and Abbot. He was an old boy and he had been called to the Bar en route. He was large, and was alleged to be in poor health. He was so myopic that he seemed to find it necessary to get behind a piece of paper before being able to focus his eyes on the front of it. He was a man in good control of his circumstance. He brooked no problem with the outside world and if one of his boys had one, he sorted it out there and then over the telephone being no respecter of the wrongful decisions of others. He was particularly helpful when it came to References. When Bursar he’d dismissed an alleged dishonest Store man. The reference he gave him when it was requested was that the man was ‘inclined to take things too easily’.
It was not sufficient in my CV that I liked Gilbert and Sullivan, but apparently had best mention my appreciation of Offenbach. Such manipulation caused me a problem when attending interview at London Hospital. I was possibly the only one of the Downside Contingent that day who actually was a member of the School’s Abingdon Debating Society. Seemingly all the other interviewees had been upgraded to membership too, so not only devaluing the whole, but causing me to have to explain what on the earth the Abingdon Society was. We were all offered places some even passed their first Mb. exemption and took them up. I recall Passmore’s advice that I might practice Medicine as a Licentiate of the Society of Apothecaries. In reality one went to work in the City at Lloyds. Way back in 1953 one worked in the City, or in Medicine, The Law, Accountancy, or any of the Professions, at the very least one joined the Services. Frequently the Professions expected to be paid a premium, and at best the premium might be refunded as wages. Not surprisingly even Estate Agents expected to receive ‘cash up front’.
Every evening after dinner there was a list posted on the Headmaster’s Notice Board. Maybe six or eight boys to attend his study. There was the implication that each was to beaten not for any disciplinary matter but in causa academica. I recall mention once of an alleged poor performance in Physics, although the Master concerned had made no complaint. Fr.Wilfrid was right that I remained no scholar, but it was oppressive never to know the hour or the Day of Atonement. It was a foregone procedure. A Headmaster shining an Angle poise lamp into your face did not disguise that concealed beneath his habit; he held the strap at the ready. There was no point in discussion. The last occasion he beat me was the same day I had first been appointed a House Prefect.
At other times he would invite a group of boys in to be sociable. Each was greeted with a whole box of chocolates of his own. Seemingly the coupons involved were the gift of Nuns. Fr Wilfrid ran the Sodality for the most senior boys in the School. I suppose it was to be a preparation for life in the outside world. He also ran the Law Society. The School had fostered a very distinguished collection of Lawyers. I did hear tell of the entire bench in Cyprus being once entirely composed of old Gregorians. I have ever recalled his advice about how one was to deal with a black mailer, but as yet have never had the opportunity to try it out.
Downside fostered delusions of grandeur. Bristol Grammar School was a phrase that would always raise a hilarious jeer. Fr. Hubert van Zeller’s book ‘Willingly to School’ told of an effete generation of boys not in the context of their achievements, but in relation to the sometime status of their family wealth. More reverentially Brideshead, than inspirational. In my time there was a boy, who has since been on the Committee of the Old Gregorian Society whose perceived ‘attitude’ was explained away by his Housemaster, on the basis that his mother ran a shop. One of my Contemporaries told me that he didn’t think Downside was meant for the like of ‘us’. I thought that a harsh appreciation, but too detected that an old under current of deference persisted. It was rather as though the School was unwilling to stand up to be counted on its current undoubted worth. Seemingly preferring to view itself in the Glory days under the Headmasterships of Ramsay and Trafford. In more recent years one Staff member was heard to tell in regretful tone that a parent was more likely to be a Supermarket Manager than of the Catholic gentry. I had always kept quiet about my remote kinship to Sir Thomas Pope, who as Clerk to the Court of the Star Chamber dissolved so many of the Catholic Monasteries.
Very interesting people would visit both Abbey and School. I recall O.Gs. Peter Rawlinson, Patrick O’Connor; Boyd Neale, Muir Matheson. (once heard to tell Passmore to sit down and shut up there). (I note that Peter Rawlinson died last week, and that his funeral was held in Our Village this very morning as he had retired to an appartment at Wardour Castle); and Vaughan Williams and Evelyn Waugh. Denis Worlock and Joseph Christie were among the Eminent Clergy. All manner of other top people came. What would have been an excellent thing would have been the opportunity to meet up with lesser mortals whose lot was more likely to become our own, men one might have better competed with. One was left with the feeling that second or third best was just not worth having. Even OG. Industrialist Richard Rapier Stokes the then Minister of Works got a certain amount of stick for being a Labour MP.
House Master Cuthbert Mc. Cann who had a nephew at the School was The Barlow House Master for only two years. He had taken the House over from Fr.Victor Farwell and handed it on to Fr. Oliver Braden. I believe the latter was Censor to the English Benedictine Community. He wove church fabric as a hobby whilst he smoked home grown tobacco in quantity. He was also very good at doing crossword puzzles, talking them through each evening with his house prefects as he entertained them with coffee. He too moved on after a couple of years, seemingly becoming a member of the Community at Worth. I only know that because a Television Camera was focussed on his gravestone in the course of a recent programme concerning a Retreat there.
There was a particular monk who was never then a Priest ? He taught Scripture and Latin, knew the circumstance of every train in the Country and knew all about locks and keys. Inexplicably Latin Primers would disappear off people’s bundles of books legitimately left around the School. Unfailingly they would turn up in the possession of this one teacher, and could only be redeemed through impositions. The good Brother had the courtesy title of Father, however all his pupils were of an opinion that he used to ‘acquire’ these Latin Primers in passing. When one says he taught Scripture for ‘O’ levels that would be overstating the case. Invariably he would arrive in the class room, carrying a huge bundle of books, give some sort of an excuse and leave. That was it. I saw no evidence of him turning up in the exam room distributing the answers to the questions, or of his hiding under his desk in a thunderstorm, but certainly he insisted on the windows being closed to keep the lightning out.
The late ‘Bertie’ Howell was of importance to many a Gregorian. He taught Maths, and ran a special weekly all afternoon Maths cramming course for the less gifted usually some fifty of us. He was an excellent Teacher. He propounded the milk maid theorem and was keen on applied Maths; his wife’s knitting patterns often featured in our deliberations.
His most practical advice was that the Maths-exam consisted of five questions, each having twenty marks allocated to it, so even if you did dis-prove Einstein it was still worth but twenty marks. The other thing was that he knew what questions would come up each year, which was quite helpful. Every time there was an external exam he would have displayed the worked-out answer to each question by the time one left the examination room. Which at that time was the Gasquet Hall. He spent some spare time in Shepton Mallet Military prison, as a remedial teacher and retired to New Milton on the South Coast. I saw him in the street there once but missed the opportunity to talk. He was still wearing his brown Harris Tweed jacket.
The Classical sixth was the elite grouping in the school. Its membership seemed to border on the aesthetic. It lived and breathed the Classics under the direction of Mr. Henry, a man who bore a superficial resemblance to the late Ronnie Barker. Did they get some six Oxbridge Scholarships every year? One heard some tale of Mr. Henry eventually parting company with Downside and going to teach elsewhere.
All the teaching was excellent and Academic standards high. One has little information of the current situation however there is a Downside Diary on the Internet which portrays a far more vibrant ambience. Undoubtedly School League Tables are subject to different interpretations. The Grammar School my children attended in Salisbury seems more than competitive academically.
What of an after Life?
It is all very well to blame the acquisitive society for the current dearth in vocations in the Christian Church, but possibly Religion might benefit from introspection? Maybe the old truth and certainties are no longer acceptable to the universally educated man, and ye gods let us not forget the women.
What was it my equally distant kinsman 'Alexander'said of people going to Church, not for the Religion but the music there? Life has a void that gets filled by every form of gluttony, be it avarice, drink, sex, television, reading or even writing books or Blog sites. On the positive side that void is filled by good works and Religion. ‘The Church’ is excellent when it comes to remedial work, however if there is something equally as important as Charity, it is personal involvement in the process of Government at every level. That is not to say one has to set oneself up as a Councillor or Parliamentarian. It does mean that each one of us has the duty to ensure those we so entrust in Office really represents our own point of view.
One should not support Political Candidates because they belong to a particular Party, nor if they seek office for their own or anyone else’s personal aggrandisement. Unfortunately Politics has become a sinecure for life. If one’s representative is ineffective don’t re-elect him or her next time around. Too many are in Government just for the ride. In my time at Downside there was a course run by Fr. Ralph possibly on Social Awareness. Entry to it never came my way, but these fifty years on I feel that the subject should have been obligatory. Possibly it now is. I suppose it was a matter of educating people for life rather than death.
Was it Father Passmore who said that he was educating his boys for death?
It is not unreasonable for education to stretch ones imagination beyond the school gate. In my time far fewer went to University, whilst most had to go into National Service.
My lack of Academic success was compounded by one final year in what may have been termed the Medical Sixth form. Physics and Chemistry apart our spiritual home was the laboratory on the top floor of the Science Block. Our Teacher was acquired off the shelf from Wellington College, or as he referred to it’ The Gordon Boys Home’. He smoked as a chimney and seemed to have been ‘cured’ in the process as his general complexion put one in mind of a kipper. Pupils could but conjecture over the problem he had over his moustache, first one saw it then one didn’t. Wherever possible he suffixed every word with ‘aggers’ it was this, that inspired some wag possibly the late Michael Chignell to advertise
‘Mustaggers for sale, one every six months, apply the Zoology Laboratory’
Our Mr Lewis coughed and spluttered and wore what has come to be known as a ‘flasher’s’ raincoat and beneath it a brownish Harris Tweed Suit. He swore by ‘Yapp’ when it came to Botany, and Auntie Maud (Borradaile) when it came to Zoology. I happened upon Auntie Maud’s niece once at a party, the family was delighted to hear their aunt was then still the authority at Downside. I am not sure how many of our medical sixth became Doctors.
Another great personality of my time was Paddy Roache the boxing coach formerly an all Ireland Champion. He was everyone’s friend, well liked although none took up his open invitation to 'come and watch Paddy have a shower'. Did he have some sort of premises within the Allen Swimming Pool building? That building accommodated the squash courts as it possibly still does? The afore mentioned Michael Chignell was our star player both home and away. I recall RJO Meyer the then proprietor of Millfield School would come over from Street to play against him. Millfield was regarded by us with some astonishment if not envy. Pupils, who visited Downside in support of their various Teams, came complete with girls and cigarettes. We knew the place as a cramming establishment, and a centre of Athletic excellence. I recall a Downside friend going there prior to joining the Army. I see he made it to Major General, so it clearly worked.
I never got around to becoming an ‘OG’ as such, well I did, but the membership was negotiated away behind my back by my Father’s Trustees. Such abstinence obviated any obligation to contribute funds to the cause. A couple of years back I made contact with an old boy in a neighbouring village concerning a local namesake. His phone response was ‘Downside, Yes what do you want?’ in a ‘what now?’ tone of voice. I do have an Old boys list as a book of reference, and when necessary hint that my name is omitted from it for reasons of Security. I suspect several young ladies over the years regarded me with deep suspicion when I was the subject of their possibly desperate research. I suppose as one gets older one needs aide memoirs. A couple of years back I went to the funeral of a school friend whom I had not seen since attending his wedding. The Church at Chipping Norton was resplendent with Old Gregorian Ties. Heaven only knows where Teddy had happened upon so many grey haired ageing men equipped with hearing aids and walking sticks,for I was still so young. Possibly revisiting ones youth is but another nail in any man’s coffin. J.B.P.
