Monday February 1st

. Low tells me his is starting a great innovation up-Ashburnham by shouting ‘Under’ when he wants a fag, he is rather wondering how the House will take it! No Station again today, this makes a week with no Station. We had a singing practice tonight and I found myself singing quite lustily. Ranalow as usual very crushed.

Later I went and called on Miss MacLennan whom I at last found in, I like her very much, she gave me tea (she was alone) and we talked for some time. She said that she hoped to see something of me at Cambridge, she always stays every year with Sir Charles Darwin there ever since she was a child and she hoped I would come and see her. While we were talking Miss Collet came in, a cousin of my cousins, and I did not stay much longer.

When I went into Inner this morning I was startled by a scrabbling in a cardboard box which of course later proved to be one of Hobson’s treasures, a poor little blind sparrow, who subsequently expired during the day. I may say it was in a very weak state when Hobson found it and it was more merciful to take it than leave it for the cat to get! I suppose it will be dissected tomorrow.

Little Tunnecliffe came back today for the first time this term; he has had chickenpox.

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Sunday January 31st

The one pleasure that never palls in the pleasure of getting into bed! Someday I shall write an article pointing out that although many have written on getting out of bed few, if indeed any, have written on getting into bed almost as great a pleasure as the other is pain! I write this having just got into bed my usual time for writing this journal.

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Saturday January 30th

Upon this ‘black and eternally infamous day’ 260 years ago, as South puts it ‘his most Sacred Majesty King Charles I was led to execution’. He was taken from St. James Palace about 10 o’clock on a bitterly cold morning and brought through the Park to Whitehall where he remained about two or three hours in prayer and was then led forth on to that scaffold where, as John Sargeaunt once remarked ‘he regained much of that dignity which he had lost’. as he axe fell a spectator noted that it was precisely four minutes past two. There was one bright spot on that blackest of black days ‘one or two hours (at the most)’ records South, before the execution took place, the King was publicly prayed for by name in the Big-Schoolroom of the Royal College of St. Peter’s Westminster by the monitor reading prayers. It is one of our proudest boasts and Low today was not unmindful of the honour of reading prayers today with such a great precedent two hundred and sixty years ago.

I dragged Low out for a walk, both of us rather unwilling, however, we followed the River down past the Tate and right on to Grosvenor Road and Chelsea and eventually we both enjoyed our walk immensely. We were much pleased coming back to find the site of the old King’s Scholars Pond and, what was more pleasing to find, a new green London County Council gate with the name ‘L.C.C. Main Drainage, King’s Scholars Pond’ in white letters painted on it. I am pleased to find it thus remembered, it made up for our lack of success in identifying the Red House, the ostensible purposes of our walk.

I went out again later and found the present address of Miss Wedderburn (that was) [see Thursday 28th Jan] to my exceeding joy, I spent most of the evening composing a diplomatic letter, a by no means easy task.

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Friday January 29th

Woke up with a raging headache so stayed in bed instead of getting up for Prep and eventually got down in time for breakfast at 8.15. The headache tanks to a strong dose of sal volatile passed off soon after lunch.

I heard from Mrs Murray Smith today asking me if I cared to go to any of Benson’s productions at the Coronet and asking if I thought any of my friends would like to come. This was somewhat vague as I did not know whether she meant to take the whole Shakespeare Society as she did last year of not, furthermore she wanted an answer this morning, so I showed the post-card to Gow and asked if I might go and see her, on which he promptly gave me leave off 2nd hour! So I sallied out only to find she was out so I said I would come back and walked up to Christie’s (not much of interest) and then came back and was just writing a note when she came in and I found she did want to take us all. We arranged to go to Richard III on Saturday evening February 20th, it is really nice of her. I see that Miss Genevieve Ward is acting the Queen. I saw it at Stratford this year and though it very good, one of the best of Benson’s productions. I also invited Barrington-Ward who said that he would like to come, so I am quite pleased. I eventually got back just as the bell was ringing at the end of the hour.

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Thursday January 28th

. Another fearful day of fog, even worse than yesterday, consequently of course no Station. I did not go into Abbey this morning but later nobly forsook my own fireside and sat by myself in the Library 1st hour. For once virtue was rewarded. A casually turned page of a book gave me a clue for which I have been searching patiently for 5 years and may ultimately lead me to find the Grant family.

The last Miss Maria Grant married a Frederick Dixon, a surgeon at Worthing, she died in 1872 leaving as her executors John Poncione, a solicitor, who died long since without issue and Major G. G. Wedderburn who died about 1875. Wedderburn being a good name I had searched in Burkes’ ‘Landed Gentry’ etc without any clue but today I turned casually in Burkes’ Peerage to that name and found Major Wedderburn’s name in the lineage of the Wedderburn Baronetcy and what was much more to the point found he had married a daughter of Captain Dixon R.A. in 1863 and had five daughters, 4 of whom are living now, one is certainly a godchild of both Frederick Dixon and his wife (Miss Grant) for she bears the names Frederica and Maria.

Unfortunately no address is given but three are married and two have dates given so a reference to the papers may give at any rate the parents’ address. One daughter married a Mr Ryder of Paris in 1902 and his address is given. I shall write there as anything is worth trying and who knows but that they may be able to tell me of living Grants. I shall leave no stone unturned. Another daughter married a Mr Edward Howard Wakefield as Gilbert Wakefield (OW) the great scholar had a brother called John Howard, I take them to be the same family. All these are links. I am so interested to find that Wedderburn was anything more than a friend of Maria Dixon’s as I always imagined, it now looks as if she was his sister-in-law.

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Wednesday January 27th

Oh! Who would get up for pleasure for Morning Prep on a morning like this morning it was unspeakable, foggy and cold. There has been a bad yellow fog all day and though one could see across the yard, the Abbey was quite invisible which always means it’s a bad fog.

Clarke asked me to send over to the Armoury any odd kit there might be in the House, so we had a turn out and I ‘halled’ and told Cargill, who came, to fetch two others and carry the things across, there was a pause and whispered conference ‘you go, no you’ so when they came back I irately told him to fetch everybody in Hall as I expected to be instantly obeyed! I then made them all take the things.

At tea today roller-skating — a fine topic of conversation lasting ever so long!…

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Tuesday January 26th

I stayed in again this morning, as I could quite as well work in the House as over in Library and as I wrote to Ward in sending him the notes of Deb. Soc. for the Elizabethan ‘the prospect of hearing Forbes ‘elucidating and elocuting’ the beauties of Milton was not sufficiently attractive to make me brave the draughts of Library.

I have been drawn with Graham in the Fives ties, so we are not a hopeless couple, unfortunately we have knocked up against Hobson (F.G.) and the smallest Rawson.

My curiosity was strained to breaking point by seeing the Committed of the Nat. Hist. Soc., marching across the Yard carrying drawers (I hasten to add of cabinets. Really I am very vulgar and low minded!). This evening after prayers I went into college and looked at these drawers which have had glass fixed on top. I also saw the collection of butterflies the Society is buying which looks, I think, a very good one.

We have a somewhat dull meeting of Shak. Soc. and finished ‘The Two Gentlemen of Verona’. I read what little I had disgustingly.

Hobson tells me that Chiswicks are delighted at the execution of Whitmore, I wondered how they would take it, but they seem agreed that he wants to be squashed, and Whitmore himself seems somewhat wormified and there is no doubt that he has had a nasty ‘jar’ not to say a ‘rebuff’ after finding that for once public opinion on which he relies has very decidedly gone against him. I wish he would be less noisy, he has got it into his head that I hate him, indeed he told Mrs. Thresher so and he added that he reciprocated the feeling! He is quite wrong: I don’t care for him, he is at a silly and awkward age, but if he would make himself a little less conspicuous, we should get on allright. He is the only boy in the school who has not responded to my conciliatory efforts, I am perfectly willing to forgive and forget but at present he is simply a nuisance, three-quarters, rather more, of the noise of the house is caused by him, if you hear any voice raised it is certain to be his, and moreover he is incapable of taking a hint, one that does not wish to be always setting on a person, but the moment one overlooks anything, he does at once take it to mean that he may do more, and by sheer bluster makes the House (or rather Hall) believe him to be a much injured person. I am glad to hear Minchin the man is firm with him: ‘Either you stop using that ungentlemanly language or out you go from my room’ are, I hear, the methods he adopts. I am getting rather tired of Master Whitmore. I have tried to be kind and gentle, now I think I shall make myself a nuisance to him.

The Professor’s cold has gone to his throat, his ‘travelling’ cold is a great joke between us.

At Prep somebody kept making little noises, rolling something that rattled on the floor, not bad enough to say anything. I looked up and showed myself displeased once, which had a good effect.

This evening in Lit. Soc. we began ‘Julius Caesar’, on the whole not a bad reading. Father: Anthony, Gilman: Cassius really quite good, myself: Brutus I was good I think tonight having somewhat studied the part for the Vincent Prize (which is Julius Caesar this year) Pemberton and Colquhoun were also good, Hobson horribly dull as Caesar and the rest rather funny. Graham perpetrated one gem: the lines ‘Brave son derived from honourable loins! Thou like an exorcist has conjured up etc’ appearing thus as rendered by Graham: ‘Brave son deprived from honourable loins, thou like an ex-chit has conjured up!!!’, almost as good as some years ago SA Dickson’s ‘hyenas laugh’ for ‘heinous’ though this perhaps somewhat excusable. As a matter of fact, I was pleased with the reading, people have considerably improved…

All in bed when I went round tonight.

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Monday January 25th

My cold continuing bad I stayed in this morning and did not go out until 1:30…

Later went to Forbes this afternoon who made us take lengthy notes all the afternoon which saved me from going to sleep. The rest of the day has been a record of bloodshed. Hallward got his appeal as I always expected that he would, but…two little Rigaudites, were shown up by Canon Beeching for misbehaving themselves in Abbey yesterday afternoon to Gow, who handed them on the case for us to deal with. Consequently we had them up and, of course, under the circumstances they had nothing to say except that they were only talking. ES Wood, however, had also noticed them yesterday and consequently Ward could not take their excuse, and they were accordingly executed, Bird receiving as round a thrashing as he has ever had, and, I should say, at the hands of young Gow, I am precious glad it was not me.

I did not go down to Chiswicks but had dinner with the family and was ranted at by Hobson at 8:30 who came to tell me he had taken a crib [sheet] from Whitmore (of course) right under his nose. I told father and of course there was but one remedy so we had to have him up. He really seemed frightened, and like a crushed worm, all the go taken out of him. I have developed a deadly calm on these occasions, speaking very slowly and severely which I find effective. I said ‘you have been shown up to me for using a ‘crib’ in Prep tonight. Have you any excuse to make?’

ÔÇ£I did not know that it was a House offence.ÔÇØ

‘Of course it is a House Offence and a very bad one.’

He murmured something about other people not being had up and tanned for it. I looked straight through him (!) and asked idly if he had any other excuse to make. He said ‘no’, so we sent him out and spent the interim in squabbling who should execute; I was firm and said I was not going to come down into the cold for nothing, and refused to toss for it, I couldn’t resist a parting shot at Whitmore; when we had him in again, I remarked ‘Of course we shall have to tan you. You are a public nuisance. Go out.’

I gave him a pretty sound thrashing which he richly deserved and I hurt him somewhat. My gravity was rather upset, as the solemn procession started from Inner, by seeing the solemn gravity of Minchin just outside Chiswicks, but I sternly repressed the inclination to smile and stalked gauntly on. Going round Dormitories, I asked after the Professor’s cold and he answered that it had ‘descended to his foot’, he is suffering I may say from a swollen foot.

At 9:30 came a message from Ward for notices of Deb. Soc. for the Elizabethan which kept me busy. I heard from Chappie this morning, poor child, he seems in coxing difficulties at present; after a general wail he continues ‘the full catalogue of my enormities is that I have rammed the bank several times, bumped one or two inoffensive boats, rammed several rafts etc and (the crowning sorrow) held up the Varsity VIII (fine ┬ú1 1s). Gordon Reed also remarked that Chappie seemed to the descending the coxing ladder.

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Sunday January 24th

Delighted to be able to lie on in bed until 8.40! Went down to Oxted by the 10.20. Passengers somewhat funny and much as usual: the engaged couple, though of slightly better class than usual, almost gentle people hailing from suburbia I should imagine; the youth who smokes cigars and wears a button hole; the Clapham Junction family, Papa with a presentation walking stick, Mrs and the children including the son and heir reading Comic Cuts and so like his father and so forth…

Came back by 5.30. Rather sorry for myself with a heavy running cold tonight.

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Saturday January 23rd

The Hallward case is still sub judice. Barrington-Ward found when he went to Gow that Hallward had been first and Gow (which is strictly a breach of etiquette) had heard him. Hallward seems however to have damaged his case by only telling Gow part of the truth or rather only telling him he was had up for ragging in the 2nd Game. Barrington-Ward of course told Gow all the circumstances. Gow remarked which is I think true that ‘a jury would not convict’ but still that that wasn’t necessarily right. Put simply the case is this, the boy is a nuisance and a fool and badly wants a tanning but it is doubtful whether the Law is strong enough to reach him.

Barrington-Ward and myself got leave off prayers from Gow and went to lunch with the Foxes at Maresfield Gardens, Hampstead. A brother of W. Fox is presenting a collection of birds to the School and we went up more or less officially to see them. Only Mrs Fox, a quaint motherly person, W.F. Fox, his brother and Miss Scott (daughter of Sir [Arthur] G[uillum Scott]) who is just engaged to W. F. Fox. She is exceedingly pretty and I don’t think I have ever seen anyone more radiantly happy. Conversation almost entirely Westminster at lunch and afterwards we looked at the birds, which far exceeded our expectations and are an extremely fine collection stuffed by the very best people and collected by an expert; a collection any museum would be pleased to accept. The giver of the collection is starting for Nigeria tomorrow and will only be back on leave for short periods for some time to come, he wishes the gift to be in the nature of a loan but practically a gift and he gives it because of his respect for the School (he is himself a Harrovian) and what it did for his brother. It is rather difficult to say thanks to a person buy I managed as we were going to thank him as nicely as I could for them on behalf of the School. W.F. Fox, Miss Scott, Barrington-Ward and myself then took a taxi and drove to Vincent Square and got there about a quarter to four. Fox’s great source of amusement was to walk Miss Scott up and down the railing side and listen to the comments of the ‘scis’ on a very vivid emerald green dress which she was wearing ‘Good Old Ireland’, ‘Ireland’ etc rising to a perfect babel to our amusement!…

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