Oscar Browning

OSCAR BROWNING

RECENT BIOGRAPHICAL
-WORKS-

Trollope; A Commentary
By Michael Sadleir

Letters of George Gissing
to Members of His Family
Edited by Algernon and Ellen
Gissing

The Journals of Katherine
Mansfield

Edited by J. M. Murry

Emily Davies and Girton
College
By Lady Stephen

The Light of Experience

By Sir Francis Younghusband

K.C.S.I., K.C.I.E.J etc.

OSCAR BROWNING IN OLD AGR

Aftn a bronze head b}( Letrhc

OSCAR BROWNING

by

H. E. WORTHAM

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

CONSTABLE e> CO LTD
LONDON

First published 1927

Printed in Great Britain by Richard clay & Sons* Limited,
BUNGAY, SUFFOLK,

NON SIT VOBIS VANUM MANE SURGERE
ANTE LUCEM QUIA PROMISIT DOMINUS
CORONAM VIGILANTIBUS

(Invitatory from the Roman Breviary
which ran as a scroll round the
frieze of O. B.’s bedroom at King’s)

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I. INTRODUCTION ....

PART I. ETON

II. SCHOOL-DAYS AT ETON .

III. ETON AND REFORM

IV. OSCAR BROWNING AS SCHOOLMASTER

V. OSCAR BROWNING AND HORNBY

VI. “THE LIE 99 .....

VII. THE CURZON AFFAIR
VIII, OSCAR BROWNING LEAVES ETON

IX. THE AFTERMATH ....

* PART II. CAMBRIDGE

X. THE NEW KING’S ....

XI. GROWTH OF THE O. B. LEGEND

XII. TOWARDS THE IDEAL

XIII. MUSIC AND CONTROVERSY

XIV. HUMANITAS .....

XV. LAST YEARS AT CAMBRIDGE .

PART III. OLD AGE

XVI. ROME ......

APPENDIX I. BIBLIOGRAPHY .
APPENDIX II. THE POLITICAL SOCIETY
INDEX .....

PAGE

I

17

. 41

56
75

. 90

96

. 113
. 147

*59

177

*99

218

243

260

. 295

. 319

. 322

> 3*5

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Facing page

OSCAR BROWNING IN OLD AGE, AFTER A BRONZE
HEAD BY LERCHE . Frontispiece

OSCAR BROWNING, AFTER A DRAWING BY SIMEON

SOLOMON ....... 78

OSCAR BROWNING, AFTER A MEDALLION BY WILLIAM
STORY, IN THE POSSESSION OF .MRS. N. B. BAIN-
BRIDGE ........ 148

MARGARET MARIANA BROWNING AT THE AGE OF 84 . 196

FACSIMILE OF A LETTER FROM OSCAR BROWNING TO

HIS MOTHER ....... 198

OSCAR BROWNING

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

I

In June 1923 I received a letter from Osca
Browning in Rome. “ I am writing to you,” h
began, “ on a most important matter to which I as]
for your earnest attention. You have probabl
seen in the papers that my dear friend. Lord Latymei
is dead. He was my sole executor and legatee
I had left him everything that I possessed in th
world, for good reasons which I will not no\
explain. A large number of very valuable paper
are now Stored in the cellars of Coutts’ Bank,
suppose in my name, but they may be in his. H
had them because he wished to write my life, a dut
which I hope you will now undertake. ... It ha
always been a subject of controversy which is not
as fervent as ever, and the truth ought to be told
which cannot be till after my death.”

He went on to give some instructions how h
wanted his property distributed, and said that a
eighty-six he was in perfedt health and, according t<
the dodtor, “ good for another fourteen years.” 1
postscript in his own shaky hand—for some tim
he had been unable to hold a pen properly—added

OSCAR BROWNING

the old magnanimous spirit Still inspired that portly
frame, the weight of years had not destroyed his
zeSt for the great world in which for so long he had
loved to consider himself as playing a part. .

I accepted the task without any foreboding that
within a few months such a melancholy duty would
devolve upon me. As to writing his life, I was
more cautious; I pointed out that it was already a
legend; by observing his wishes I might be destroy¬
ing a picturesque comer of the Victorian era.

A genial letter by return of post would not have
it so. “ There are some things which can only be
explained after my death and ought to be known.
I heard the Barbiere last night very well done. To¬
night they have William Tell. I shall try to go for a
part, but I cannot Stay the whole time. . . . My
doCtor says I shall live another fourteen years.”
When a man of eighty-six goes to the opera two
nights in succession and looks forward to'seeing
William Tell , in the same breath declaring that he
expeCts to be a centenarian, one takes him at his
word and allows him a provisional immortality.
I should have reflected that O. B. had generally been
disappointed in his ambitions and that he might fail
to realise this, the last of many. In the light of the
fuller knowledge of his character as revealed in his
letters such an affirmation reads rather as intended to
convince himself than the person to whom it was
made. He guessed that the end was near, but he
was going to play his hand out and, incidentally,
see William Tell for the first time for over thirty
years.

Towards the end of September the partial
paralysis from which he was suffering had become
complicated with other ailments. “ I very much
doubt.” he wrote at this time. “ whether I shall live

HIS * STREAKS OF GENIUS *

ceeded to talk about Mozart. But his mind was
busy on his papers at Coutts’ Bank. He insisted
that they were interesting and valuable, and asked
me what I was doing about them. The Story they
contained about his Eton career muSt be told.
“ The work of my life is over,” he added : “ I don’t
suppose I shall write another book. My Memoirs
have been a tremendous success, so I shall leave off
with a good exhibition of fireworks. When I do
write they pay me well. The other day I got eight
guineas for a thousand words in the Evening News.”
A fortnight later he was dead.

II

Thus it happened that I found myself in posses¬
sion of a formidable mass of papers and faced with at
lea§t a contingent liability to undertake the always
ungrateful task of writing about a man who had
already been his own biographer. But as I read
through the correspondence relating to his years at
Eton, it was borne in on me that O. B. was right.
His work there had been remarkable, and if he had
ultimately failed, the Story of his failure was worth
telling, both as a chapter in the history of Eton and
as the attempt of a man of originality and vision to
liberalise public school education. A. C. Benson
has remarked in his chapter on Oscar Browning in
Memories and Friends, that he had Streaks of genius.
Though the O. B. as a figure will doubtless always
be identified with Cambridge, where he passed his
middle age and the best of his later years, his own
powers were shown in their fullest at Eton. It
was there that the Streaks of genius were brightest,
there that his qualities were at their highest. But
his Eton career, throughout marked by controversy
and ending in a bitter quarrel with Dr. Hornby,
was not one that he could have told himself.

3

OSCAR BROWNING

“ You’ve missed a chance,” said the late John Lane
to hitn, when he found that he had omitted prac¬
tically the whole of that part of his life from the
volume of his Memoirs published by the Bodley
Head. O. B.’s comment, on repeating the remark
afterwards, was “ The vulgar fellow.” The accusa¬
tion is one which will doubtless be made against the
Story as I have told it. If so, I cannot help it.
Oscar Browning wanted the Story told, and I have
done so with as much impartiality as I could com¬
mand. I have told it all, suppressing nothing
material of which I knew, and thus, I trust, have laid
a ghoSt which always Stalked through his subsequent
career.

So recently as 1924 the present Vice-ProvoSt of
Eton, Mr. Hugh Macnaghten, in a note to his
reminiscences of Dr. Hornby in his Fifty Years at
Eton, refers once again to the ghoSt. Hornby, he
says, in dismissing Browning showed high courage
and deserved well of the school. “ Granted that
O. B. was a virtuous man, as I believe him to have
been, he was none the less responsible for his own
downfall. He talked very injudiciously and took a
positive pleasure in risky situations ”—the situation
to which he refers in particular owing its “ riski¬
ness ” apparendy to the fa£t that it consisted of a
tea-party of four boys in First Hundred and three
lower boys, plus O. B. Still Mr. Macnaghten
observes that it is something to be thankful for that
there was “ nothing, absolutely nothing, more
serious in the background.”

In order to make such apologies unnecessary, the
fairest thing to do is to give the Story of his Eton
life as fully as possible. Those who read the follow¬
ing chapters about Eton will therefore know what
happened so far as documents can reconstruct the
Story. If some things Still remain obscure, one thing
is clear, that Oscar Browning exercised a profound

4

O. B.’S WORK AT ETON

influence at Eton over many of the best type of
boys, and that some of his colleagues and a great
many persons of intellectual distinction outside
Eton realised that he was doing work of a very valu¬
able and original kind. If O. B. is to be remem¬
bered as one of the personalities of his time, it is
right that the nature of that work should be recorded
and that we should possess some data for forming an
independent judgment both upon it and on the con¬
troversy which arose out of it.

Ill

The present memoir may seem, therefore, to be
disproportionately concerned with that part of his
career which ended when he was thirty-eight and
belongs to the mid-ViCtorian era. But leaving aside
the intrinsic value of his contribution to public
school ‘education, the Story of his work at Eton
gives depth and tone to the picture of a rich and
curious personality which the world interpreted
rather by his foibles than by the qualities they
masked. The O. B. whom moSt persons now
remember was generally summed up by the judicious
as a genial, hospitable man with a flair for knowing
people, and possessing a boundless belief in his own
powers which was not justified on the faCts, a man
whose egotism was so naive as to be childlike and
so deep-seated as to make it impossible for him to
get on with his colleagues. To many generations
of undergraduates he was a joyous, epicurean don
who had nothing in common with the remote, if not
repellent, order to which he belonged. The queer
figure with the short legs which always seemed
uncertain whether they would continue to carry the
too ample body, and turned his gait into a nautical
roll, highly embarrassing for anyone walking with
him, the massive head and Strongly marked features,

5

OSCAR BROWNING

to -which he gave a grotesque turn by his habit of
inflating his cheeks like a piping cherub, his hearty
manner and deep voice, all pointed to the fa£fc that
he was a fit subject for legend. So in the fertile
Cambridge soil the O. B. myth, helped on its way
by the vivid wit of J. K. Stephen, grew and was
nourished by many Stories turning on his vanity,
his ready tongue, his partiality for the great, Stories
which he usually enjoyed as much as anyone. The
myth did justice to his gaiety, his friendliness, his
zeSt for life. But it grew till he became a figure
of FalStaffian proportions beneath which the under¬
lying gravity of his character and the seriousness of
his purpose were hidden. Anecdote bred anecdote
till one forgot that a man, with so deep an interest
in human welfare and, despite the misadventures of
his own career, so profound a belief in human
charafter, must be something more than a gigantic
joke.

There is, however, another side to the picture.
If one lifts the protecting shield of egotism one finds
the self-complacency turning to self-diStruSt, the
inner happiness which he insists upon so emphatic¬
ally to the courage which is grounded on despair.
“ I think that worry may be dispelled and averted,”
he writes in 1914, juSt before the war, to Lord
Latymer, “ if sufficient pains be taken. You know
how I used to worry myself, but I never do now.
I try to regard all worry about the past as quite
useless and nearly all worry about the future, con¬
fining myself to the present day, hour and minute,
trying to enjoy each of them as much as I can.”
In much the same Strain wrote Voltaire to Mme.
du Deffand from Fernay. But the philosophy is
none the less dubious for a convinced optimist.
This is hardly the Oscar Browning whom the world
sometimes condescended to know, nor the O. B.
who thought he knew himself, who declared with

6

HIS APPETITE FOR FAME

tedious iteration that he was happy and confident
in the worth of the things which he had done, of the
causes for which he had fought.

Nevertheless as the result of long practice he did
create an ideal charafter for his own edification
which as a rule kept him company. As he sped
through his happy eighties on the wings of Christian
Science and Universal History, with an income
sufficient for himself and his Italian servant’s family,
and amidst the best society that Rome could afford,
it seemed that at last he had taSted a degree of felicity
beyond the ordinary hopes of man. The ambitions
of his youth for fame had been satisfied, if not quite
in the manner he had wished. He was a personality,
he was someone in the world, which was more than
could be said of most of the other dons. Indeed he
saw himself at last winning the recognition which
Cambridge had denied him. “ My History of the
Modern World,” he writes in 1916, “ will establish
my reputation as a serious historian, which I have
long wished for but have never been able to attain.”
Still there were doubts. Had he gone to Oxford
instead of to Cambridge he felt he would have been
“ a greater man.” There was always a provinciality
about Cambridge from which Oxford was free.
Had he been called to the Bar instead of returning
to Eton as a master, had he set himself as a young
man to make a reputation as a man of letters, he
might then have been something more than O. B.
And then he had been shamefully treated at Eton.
And Rome, though the climate and society were alike
delightful, was exile. Not even the music of
Mozart and the satisfa&ion of being paid by editors
for being a NeStor to - Fleet Street could compensate
for the loneliness and the regrets which refused to
keep their distance.

But this is to anticipate. One cannot enter on
one’s task better than by once more recalling him

7

OSCAR BROWNING

as he appeared when he trod the Stage, impelled by
the force of an enormous vitality, in the full blaze of
life. O. B. combined in himself—or to the under¬
graduate imagination seemed to do so—the past and
the present, history and politics, music and gastro¬
nomy, Cambridge, London, Europe. It was a
portly, somewhat bewildering, but undeniably
entertaining synthesis. Like the Bourbons he never
forgot. His memory rotated securely in all circles,
and he was always ready to talk, as one man of the
world to another, of life in Rome under Pio Nono,
or of Florence under the Brownings, of the amours
of Metternich, of the proper method of cooking a
Spanish ham, of psychical research (in which he
believed), or of the beauties of the Bavarian High¬
lands. Both literally and figuratively he was
omnivorous. What more can be said of a person
who records dining with pleasure off snails, frogs,
porcupine, hedgehog and wild boar, who took
lessons in Polish when eighty-five and preferred his
sermons long ? A man with such an insatiable
appetite is not easily to be circumscribed within the
limits of this dietetic age. One looks naturally to
the paSt and tries to measure him by other less
hygienic times, when we like to think that there was
more leisure and intimacy to savour the finer
subtleties of personality. “ O. B. was by tempera¬
ment, by sympathy, we might almost be allowed to
say by the date of his birth, an eighteenth-century
figure. In him its ideal of the scholar, the States¬
man in little and the man of the world was com¬
bined. That he should be remembered, as perhaps
he will be remembered, as the greatest Cambridge
don of the latter half of the nineteenth century seems
an anti-climax, such was the spell of his personality
on all capable of penetrating beyond its surface of
egoism and its whimsical adulation of the great.”
Thus Mr. Osbert Burdett. Another King’s-man,

8

A CHILD OF HIS AGE

Mr. N. Wedd, goes Sill further back : “ Spiritually
O. B. derives from an age more spacious even than
Victoria’s. You do not begin to understand him
until you realise that he is the hero of a lost play of
Shakespeare’s, bearing in all his lineaments unmistak¬
able traces of his Elizabethan origin. To love life
as well as learning, to regard rules as beSt kept when
broken, to give the world, the flesh and the devil
their due, to follow the gleam when it leads to Court
as well as to Cloister—these things were O. B.’s
by right of birth. They are the qualities most
needed and least liked in Schools and Colleges, and
their possession explains the paradox of a career at
King’s and at Eton whose apparent failure was the
measure of true success. This union of high
spirits, high living and high thinking is such a rare
phenomenon in England since the Puritans that it is
liable to be grievously misunderstood.”

IV

It is the business, however, of the biographer to
put his subject in proper perspective, to allow the
reader to form his own judgment, and if Oscar
Browning belonged in spirit to the eighteenth
century, or to the age of Elizabeth, his work was
done in the reigns of Victoria, of Edward VII and
George V. ( He was also sufficiently a child of his
time to like its inventions, which is perhaps the
truest test of being a modern. Though he had no
mechanical bent, he loved machinery. Clocks and
watches exercised a Strange fascination over him,
especially the cheaper varieties. He was one of the
first persons, and one of the last, to ride a tricycle.
He was a pioneer at Cambridge in the use of the
telephone and the typewriter. The pianola found
in him an easy prey. In his old age he loved the
“ pictures.” If he disliked motor-cars it was

9

OSCAR BROWNING

because they provided air without exercise, which
he considered an impious combination. In any
case, whatever the age to which he was spiritually
most akin, he must remain a mass of contra¬
dictions, through which one may discern his achieve¬
ment of what Montaigne asserts is man’s mo St
glorious masterpiece—to live a propos.

Thanks to our forbears and our environment we
are what we are. A good many of Oscar Browning’s
characteristics may be explained by the known faCts
of his parentage, his birth and early upbringing.
He was descended on both sides from families
whose origins Stretch back to the respectable mists
of the Middle Ages. A Browning ancestor was
high sheriff of Gloucestershire—if the assumptions
of the genealogists are to be accepted—at the end
of the fourteenth century, and supported, with a
zeal for unpopular causes which marks Oscar as a
true scion of the race, the failing fortunes of
Richard II. Another held the same office in Surrey
in 1740. Oscar’s father received the education of
a good bourgeois at the school in Ealing where at
the same time John Henry Newman was dreaming
his very unbourgeois-like dreams. But neither
Brownings nor Bridges—his mother came of a
branch of the Bridge family which had been long
settled in Essex—had ever before the nineteenth
century produced any members who rose above a
respe&able mediocrity, and it was with some com¬
placency that Oscar Browning used to reflect that
only in his own time had the name of his family
become famous, even though the lion’s share of
that renown belonged to a certain Robert, with
whom he was related by no ties of blood. In the
purely English Stock from which he was sprung
there was no foreign admixture, unless we admit a
tradition of his mother’s family—a tradition which
remains unverified—of a Jewish Strain introduced

10

SPIRITUAL EARNESTNESS

through the marriage of a Bridge ancestor in the early
eighteenth century with a daughter of the Chosen
People. The jeSts that occasionally cropped up in
the undergraduate papers about O. B.’s brains being
derived from his Jewish extraction may therefore
not have been altogether wide of the mark. To
this Strain it may not be fanciful to attribute his
complete freedom from any prejudices of colour or
creed, and the sympathy too which embraced all
sefts and religions, incidentally making him a
Zionist long before Zionism was a thing of practical
politics. There was an underlying quality of
spiritual earnestness in Oscar Browning, a sense of
the immanence of God unclothed in dogma, coupled
with an appreciation of the value of ritual in the
smallest details of life, which is by no means
characteristic of the English temperament. And
perhaps the crypto-Jew peeped out when the con¬
versation happened to turn on some member of the
race whom he considered had done him an injury.
“ Do you like Montagu ? ” asked the ingenuous
undergraduate of Liberal convictions (unaware of
the faCt that O. B. considered that E. S. Montagu
had been responsible for bringing his long tenure of
the Treasurership at the Union to an end), only to
be shattered by the question: “ What, that circum¬
cised Jew ? ” Maybe, too, his social ■ exuberance
had an Oriental as well as an Elizabethan tinge, and
his egoism an exotic flavour. One doubts also
whether any Englishman, in whose veins ran not
some of the sacred Semitic fire, could have expressed
such hatred for a political opponent as O. B. did for
Disraeli. “What a brute Dizzy is,” he writes,
when he is an Eton master, to Arthur Sidgwick.
“ I should almost rejoice at his assassination. They
tell me at the CaStle that the Queen is devoted to
him and does not in the least perceive t h at he is a
snob.”

ii

OSCAR BROWNING

Oscar Browning was wiser, or more fortunate, in
his parentage than in his birth or the events of his
infancy and childhood. His twin brother was
Still-born, and Oscar owed his life only to the rough-
and-ready methods of the midwife, who, when the
doCfcor thought the child was dead, gave him a
vigorous slap—prototype of the many he was to
receive in the course of his career—which caused
him to make his first noise in the world. The
puling and incredibly tiny infant passed precariously
to a childhood of constant debility. Yet even as a
baby he managed to obtain some glimpses of the
great world. When he was six months old his
parents had moved from Cumberland Terrace,
Regent’s Park, to one of the Canon’s houses in
Windsor CaStle, and some of his earliest recollections
were thus tinged with the gleam of Court splendour
—the marriage of the Queen and seeing her and the
Prince Consort, at the head of a noble cavalcade,
go out riding in the Park—things which doubtless
helped to foster his Johnsonian respeCt for royalty.

Those were Spartan days, and the feebleness of
his health did not prevent him from beginning Latin
when he was four and Greek when he was eight.
Like his two elder brothers, William and Arthur,
he was destined for Eton, and was actually entered
as a lower boy in 1845, when he was eight years old.
But his health was obviously not Strong enough to
Stand what was then the rough life of Eton. His
father’s death too had left his mother in rather
embarrassed circumstances, and since Oscar was
clearly an intelligent boy, it was decided to wait and
to send him into College. Ill-health and desultory
teaching, however, interfered with his Studies. He
made more than one unsuccessful attempt, and it
was not till he went to Thorpe and became one of
the first pupils of his brother William, fifteen years
his senior, that his scholarship was given the pre-

12

ENTERS COLLEGE AT ETON

cision and suppleness which enabled him, at the
Election of 1850, to attain the third place on the list.
It was thanks to William Browning, a bluff, capable,
unimaginative parson of the old school, who rode to
hounds and celebrated saints’ days by dr inking
champagne, that at the age of thirteen he had
mastered the art of writingLatin verses so thoroughly
that he was able to do his first copy of Latin Alcaics
at Eton in his head whilst walking along the Slough
Road. Greek iambics offered no more difficulty.
Yet if William recognised the intellectual ability of
his youngest brother, he was a Stern mentor, and
the delicate boy, whose languor was largely the
result of a frail physique, would undoubtedly have
been happier and less the prey of morbid doubts,
againSt which his egoism in the end beca m e a
shield, had some more sympathetic influence coun¬
teracted the fondness of his mother. She, intelli¬
gent woman as she was, found it difficult to main¬
tain the temperate mean between the harshness of
her hard-headed eldest son, who believed that his
youngest brother would never conquer his native
indolence except by the most scrupulous discipline,
and the remorseful and affectionate promises of
Oscar to battle with the natural defeCts of his
character. The result was that she quite shamelessly
spoilt him.

13

PART I
ETON

CHAPTER II

SCHOOL-DAYS AT ETON

I

The first full-length portrait we get of Oscar
Browning is at Eton, which he entered in January
1851, a few days before his fourteenth birthday.
He has drawn it for us himself in a diary which he
began in 1853 and continued with occasional gaps
until he left Eton. It was not till he was past forty
that his journalising became an ingrained habit.
With this diary, supplemented by his own letters,
his tutor’s reports, his mother’s adoring exhorta¬
tions, his brother William’s rather priggish rebukes,
he Stands out as plainly as at any time in his life.
More plainly perhaps; for at Eton Oscar Browning
was unhappy and under no constraint about admit¬
ting it, at any rate to himself. Once a man embraces
a vocation, chooses a profession, he resigns an
essential part of his independence. As a boy.
Browning disliked Eton; detested is not too Strong
a word to use. Then he was badly off, unpopular,
in poor health. To Oscar Browning the successful
house-maSter, Eton was the unrivalled school which
had for the better part of two centuries provided
England with those who made its laws and moulded
its manners. Partly owing to the influence of the
place, but much more, one suspedts, because he had
identified his own career with the greatest of
English public schools, he became the most loyal
of Etonians, the defender of the public school
system. It wanted reforming, of course. But
c 17

OSCAR BROWNING

radicalism was young and ardent in the ’sixties, and
it was thought that Parliament and zealous peda¬
gogues together would be able to turn the older
foundations, Still asleep in their trivium of constru¬
ing verses and “ saying lessons,” into more polished
and more secular Rugbys. When Hornby cast him
out from Eton he began to think differently, ulti¬
mately, as head of the Day Training College at
Cambridge, coming to condemn the public schools
and to exalt the elementary schools with which that
institution was connected. Nevertheless, though
in all loyalty there runs a Strain of egoism, Oscar
Browning, unjustly as he believed himself to have
been treated. Still possessed for Eton something
of the passionate attac h ment of the emigre. He
might declare that all boarding schools were a
mistake, allow good of none except Marlborough,
yet in 1908 he writes : “ Still Eton remains Eton,
and will be itself whether Warre or Lyttelton con¬
trol its destinies. Bismarck once said that the
Germans could not imitate England in certain
branches of. self-government because England was
full of * royal existences ’ which were lacking in his
own country. It is the fun&ion of Eton to foster
these royal existences; they make her what she is
and she suffers them to grow up as her destiny
demands. What country but our own can pro¬
duce a Viceroy of India, a man clothed for a short
space of time with more power than any sovereign
in the world, and yet ready to lay it aside when the
time has come and return to the ordinary ranks of
life ? ” A question, we may surmise, prompted by
his own friendship with Lord Curzon, begun when
the future Viceroy was a boy at Eton and cemented
by foreign travel together during the holidays.
But it breathes the magnificent pride which some
of the Gentiles have been known to call snobbery.

The interesting point is that this pride was absent

18

BYRONIC MELANCHOLY

from Oscar Browning the schoolboy. “ Bah, I
hate Eton,” he writes in 1854, and though in his
last year at school he grew more or less reconciled
to his lot, he was never under any illusions, then or
afterwards, how the life had galled and bored him.
The result is that we see him as a boy at Eton
through a clearer medium than any in which he
afterwards presents himself to our view. The
mainsprings of his character are revealed, its
mechanism Stands open to our inspeftion. And
instead of the assertive, self-confident, busy and
expansive personality which Cambridge and the
world afterwards knew as O. B., we are presented
with a melancholy, rather unsociable youth, whose
ambition is ever at war with a profound and native
indolence. He is conscious of his abilities, believes
in his powers, but, like so many clever boys, he is
filled with a mistrust of his emotions. Oscar Brown¬
ing was nothing of a Wordsworthian; if the child
is father of the man, he took special pains to disavow
his parentage.

II

His earliest years at Eton were the most unhappy.
He was delicate, small, ill-fitted physically for the
life in College. Though a Colleger’s bills were
very little less than an Oppidan’s, the Collegers were
badly fed and their accommodation was exceedingly
rough. The only apparatus for washing consisted
of a number of enamelled basins in a trough, at
each end of which was a cold-water tap. The
windows in the room were broken. The towels
were deliberately drenched by the firSt-comers.
Oscar Browning, who had a Roman passion for the
bath, used to recall how he had often been kicked at
his tutor’s for being a “ dirty tug,” when the reason
was merely due to the absence of the ordinary appli¬
ances of civilised life. At 7.30 they went into

19

OSCAR BROWNING

school, cold and unwashed. Breakfast was not till
nine, and the famished boys were obliged to keep
hunger at bay by buttered buns and coffee at Joe
Brown’s. Even when nine o’clock came the
smaller boys, as fags, had first to look after their
masters. Since they had to be in school again at
half-paSt nine, little enough time was given them
to consume the bread-and-butter which constituted
their meal. Dinner was at two. Again this was
prefaced by a visit to Joe Brown’s, where the future
gourmand used to indulge in brandy-snaps and
lemonade. A whole sheep was provided daily for
the Collegers’ dinner, a relic of the time when the
College rents were paid in kind. When the turn
of the younger boys came, the breaSt was the only
portion of the animal left, and on this unattractive
and innutritious fare they had to make their one
square meal of the day. It was washed down with
small beer, “ often flavoured with salt by waggish
bullies.” To add to the amenities of this dinner
in Hall, there were not enough plates to go round
and they had to Struggle for knives, forks and.
glasses. It is not surprising that O. B. (then known
as Bosque) used to get up from the table as hungry
as when he sat down and, as he tells us, in a much
worse temper. To the bad feeding at Eton he
attributed his Napoleonic lack of inches. It was
characteristic of him that when he him self became
a house-maSter, he returned good for evil by keeping
a table which would have been thought sumptuous
even in these days, and created not a little annoy¬
ance amongst his colleagues, who saw their own
household bills going up in sympathy.

At Eton his career was sufficiently distinguished
without being brilliant. We find him at the age
of sixteen in the Middle Division of the Fifth Form.
In his laSt year he Stood next to F. A. Bosanquet,
the Captain of the School and his lifelong friend.

20

A SCHOOL-BOY DIARY

He was twice in the seleft for the Newcastle, and
was a member of Pop, which then Still maintained
its literary character. In 1854 he was chosen to
speak an address before the Prince Consort, who
visited Eton for the Fourth of June celebrations,
reciting a poem he had composed for the occasion.
But on the whole his tutor, William Johnson seems
to have been little satisfied with his pupil. And
Oscar Browning was as little satisfied with
himself.

He opens his heart without reserve to his “ only
friend,” his caro Ubello as he calls his diary. “ I
commence this journal,” he writes on Oftober 20,
1853,“ with the full conviftion that it will be a short
one. I never yet continued in the same State of
mind for long together, and even with reference to
this I have often the firmest resolutions to begin a
journal, but before night they have passed away.
Somehow or other the thought seized me late in the
day. . . . This is the fruit. I want to follow the
example of Lucilius.” Neither the conviftion nor
the wish was destined to be realised. He became
in the end a moSt methodical and perfectly dull
diarist. During half a century he regularly chronicled
his doings, how he had slept, whom he had seen,
but rarely mentioned the State of his soul or recorded
his opinion of others. Even in his last year at
Eton his pen has grown disciplined. Always the
freest of talkers, he ceases to show in his journal
any Pepysian qualities.

But again let us not anticipate. Before reticence
becomes a habit he is ready enough to scourge the
vices and follies of mankind, not excluding his
own. “This day” (Oftober 20, 1853) “has been
unpleasant, that is to say, I was called according to
directions at 5.15 a.m. and did not get up till 6.30,
which disgusted me with myself, and I am so con¬
ceited that when I am disgusted with myself I am

21

OSCAR BROWNING

immediately disgusted with my fellow-creatures,
whom I think fools with few exceptions/ 5 an opinion,
by the way, that weighed with him through life.
On the eve of his seventeenth birthday he writes :
“ Half-paSt xi of the clock. In half an hour’s time
I shall have completed my 17th year, assumed the
toga virilis, etc. I know not if it be a matter of
congratulation or no. I should be ungrateful were
I not to thank God for giving me Strength to live
thus long and to have run I hope not last in my
race, but I cannot help feeling it weighs on me
like a nightmare how little I have done for fame.
How much I might have. Alexander—J. Csesar—
Byron, all rise and reprove me. I always had an
idea of perfect immunity from early death because
I was reserved for greater things, but now I some¬
times feel I have been weighed in the balance and
found wanting and rejected for some worthier.
To-night I prayed God that it might not be so, and
I believe my prayer was answered, for of an instant
a sudden calm as of angels’ wings soothed me and
I was happy. . . .”

Ill

Books filled the chief place in his life. He was
perfun&ory with his school work, but devoted him¬
self with what can be truthfully called a passionate
intensity to private reading. On a Sunday night
in November, ’54, he gives a picture of his room.
“ My Room at present is a faint shadow of my mind.
It is Strewed with books. Here is a list of the m
On the table—Byron’s works, Plymley’s Letters,
Ellis’s Passage of the Alps, Horatii Opera, Livy,
vol. 2, Speftator, vol. 5, Prior’s Life of Burke,
Addison’s Works, vol. 3, Burton’s Anatomy of
Melancholy. On the small table, Byron’s Life,
vol. 6, Lighter Hours, Napier’s Battles and Sieges.

22

POETIC ASPIRATIONS

On the water-pipes. Green’s Life of Mahomet,
Gibbon’s vol. 5, Mont Blanc and Back, Students’
Guide, Thucydides, various editions of iEschylus,
Gibbon’s Miscellaneous Works, vol. 5, Elegant
Extra&s of Poetry, Byron, Blessington’s Idler in
Italy, Disraeli’s Miscellanies of Literature. On the
sofa, Arnold’s History of Rome, vol. 3, and the
first vol. of Cluverius’ Italia Antiqua—such a
wilderness is my mind. I really muSt be Steady and
noble (morally , I mean), and not loiter and fritter
away my time as I do at present, but perhaps it is
not my fault only.”

Byron was his god. “ In this journal,” he says
at the beginning, “ I dare say I shall fall into tire
archaic Style of writing horribly affedted [and] so
much used by Byron, but although I detest and loathe
it I cannot help it.” “I have juSt been reading
Byron’s Life and the list of books he had read
before 19. I am ashamed of myself. I yearn for
fame and love him.” A few days later the school¬
boy of sixteen was consoling himself for not yet
having fledged his poetic wings. “ I was talking
with M. M. B.” (his mother) “ about Byron to-day.
Said how odd it was that his first composition should
bear no proportion to his later ones, and that he
should have Started up so suddenly 4 one of the
giants of English Literature.’ His letters, at least
his early ones, were full of bad grammar, and I
think that critique in the Edinburgh on his Hours
of Idleness, so much maligned because of his after
fame, perfectly juSt. I suppose every poet has a
certain quantity of scum which he must throw off
before the true flower of his poetry can come out.
Would mine were passed. Oh fame, I long for
thee, long for thee. And my mind Storms, but
ah. . . .” There is no entry for a month after this
rhapsodical parenthesis.

His partiality for Byron did not cause him to

23

OSCAR BROWNING

neglect the other poets of the romantic school. He
Starts upon Moore. “ Have begun to-day an ardu¬
ous undertaking to read Moore right through.
However, it is worth while.” A subsequent note
against this entry runs : “ Found Moore was in
great measure not worth reading. Fiowever, got
through Lalla Rookh and Rhymes and the Road
and a good deal more.” His reading was done at
all hours of the day and night. “ This morning ”
(November 3,1853) “ I awoke at 5 and read Coven¬
try Patmore right through, and to-night I read
Arnold’s Falcon, which I do not like so well as
Patmore’s poem on the same subject.” A few days
before he had been reading Keats, whom he
considered to resemble Spenser in his Style and
imagination. He adds after this piece of criticism:
“ Hate Southey and Wordsworth, more particularly
the Excursion and the Prelude, which I take to be
arrant humbug and egotistical.” Tennyson and
Longfellow in his opinion did not equal Byron and
Campbell and “ all the galaxy of beauty that dazzled
the eyes at the beginning of the century.”

He longed to be another Byron. For some
months when he is seventeen he “ lives and dreams
poetry.” He seems to be really working off the
scum. Soon he will be drinking the clear and
shining waters. Then the poetic fit passes
off. He Still writes poetry, but now he must
“labour every line.” The waters grow muddier
than before. It is possible that he is not destined
to rival the fame of Byron. But there is always
prose. History as well as poetry can give the bays
to its favoured children. He has been reading
Gibbon’s Autobiography, and suddenly it flashed
upon hirn that the author of the Decline and Dali
was born in May 1737, he in January 1837. “ Not

much perhaps, but Still enough to cling to. I
shall be able to compare his progress with mine, to

24

GIBBON AND HISTORY

envy, rejoice over and emulate him by turns. O
God, turn it to my good.” Thus was Strengthened
his taSte for history. He reads Gibbon con¬
stantly. “ Have been reading Gibbon for the
Essay which we have to write on Mahomet next
Wednesday. ... I shall support Mahomet in¬
tensely and shall think him a most awful trump. I
shall follow Gibbon mostly. His 50th chapter is
wonderful—but wants attentive reading. He is
moderate and learned. I finished his Life last night.
It did me a great deal of good, but I don’t under¬
stand what his reputed atheism is founded on.
He seems discreet enough to me, but I don’t know.
Addio.” The farewell is to his journal, which he
thus takes leave of in English, French, German or
Italian impartially. Later he tires of Gibbon’s
magniloquence, for of chapters sixty to seventy he
writes: “ His Style worse and worse. His perpetual
love of antithesis which he somewhere complains
of himself in others makes his writing dull and
obscure and difficult to understand.” But he took
Gibbon in his Stride. Thirlwall’s Hifiory of Greece,
Macaulay’s Hifiory of England, Voltaire’s Charles XII,
Stirling’s Charles V, Thackeray’s English Humour-
ifts, Ruskin, “ a 1000 novels,” which included the
Brontes (“I do not like Villette nor any of the Bells
novels, the Style is too Strained and affe&ed, and
that in the last degree. It becomes a labour to read
them,” was his verdift then, which was reversed by
his later judgment), Mrs. Gaskell, whom he admired,
The Shaving of Shagpat, make up a formidable list for
any schoolboy’s reading in his spare time.

IV

His tutor, William Johnson, for whom he had a
lifelong respeft, thought he was inclined to dissipate
his intelleftual energies. An early entry runs:

25

OSCAR BROWNING

“ My tutor says I am deficient in ‘ Vis. 5 I believe
him. Must get up Steam somehow or shall come to
consummate grief. 55 He hopes for a better mood
on the morrow and then his pen runs off again to
literature. “ I admire FauSt very much. Think
the laSt scene beautiful and some parts of the beggin-
ning (sic). Margaret is charming.” Bad reports
were the rule during those middle years at Eton.
At the end of the Christmas half of 1855 he refers
to his tutor’s letter complaining of his “ languor
and inactivity as found by others. Says that my
schoolfellows think me conceited, unsociable and
cross. Also a jaw from Stephen H[awtrey], who
is a humbug. Three cheers for the schoolfellows
and their opinion.” A year later he writes : “ Have
been having a long and important conversation with
my mother. I have had a bad report from my tutor
and a bad conscience for the last three weeks. My
brothers have been uproarious. I am almost deter¬
mined to tell Arthur the proximate cause of all this
misery. My social position at Eton. The way I
have been treated. The way I have suffered. The
way the flood of grief or madness, I know not what,
has gradually melted away the feeble barriers I
could oppose to it. My extreme sensitiveness, a
failing I allow, but one of nature. How it has been
tortured and how it has been disbelieved even by
my friends, who can find no such corresponding
feeling in their own breasts. How my joy has been
turned into sorrow, my best resolutions into fruit¬
less gall, till at laSt with broken spirit, heart seared
by disappointment and everything else which has
happened to me, I have become what I am. I owe
all this misery to two boys, Hicks and Pinchard.
On them be the penalty.”

This is the first indication we have of the persecu¬
tion mania which plays a large part in Oscar Brown¬
ing’s life. He would imbibe a notion that some-

26

A STRANGE PRAYER

one was trying to do him injury, on any evidence or
none, and nothing afterwards would shake his
opinion. What Hicks and Pinchard had done we
know not, probably they had been “ ragging ” him.
Anyhow Oscar, who talks darkly of being “be¬
trayed,” was very bitter. “I here, if it be not
displeasing to God,” he writes, “ register a vow for
vengeance. I mil have vengeance on them. They
by their wanton foolery have—I cannot write it.”
Then follows this curious entry : “ O my God, look
upon me. Thou knoweSt what I say is true. If this
vow be not wicked let it be fulfilled. I leave the
vengeance to thee. Vengeance is mine, I will
repay, saith the Lord. The Lord for higher motives
give me energy and understanding. Counsel me in
this Strait, through Jesus Christ I pray. Amen.”

The next entry, nearly two months later, begins :
“ Tandem rex sum.” Pinchard, one of the two on
whom he had cried for vengeance, had left. He
took a commission in the Ceylon Rifle Regiment
and died in 1874 as a captain in the 70th Rifles.
They appear to have remained on friendly terms,
corresponded with each other, and Pinchard visited
him at Eton when on leave. The other lived
the uneventful life of a country parson. Oscar
Browning’s prayers were not as a rule answered.

His unhappiness was due in part to his feeling
that he was not a social success, and his spirits are
lowest when he has been rejected for Pop in the
Michaelmas half of 1854. But the vein of youthful
melancholy, which persists through the pages of
this diary until he is nineteen, in such contrast to
the genial optimism of his adult life, can in part be
ascribed to physical reactions. His “ languor and
inactivity” are really not surprising. An under¬
fed boy of seventeen who led the life he did could
hardly have been expedited to show any other
qualities. He rises at six or earlier, and we find

*7

OSCAR BROWNING

him entering in his journal: “ Am now writing this
at 11.45 P- m - I muSt take a pill and go to bed, for
I am not in health.” “ I wake up every morning
with feverish hands and white tongue.” “I went to
bed this morning at 12.5, slept till five, dozed till
seven, got up and went into the library for trials
in the first three chapters of Hallam’s Constitutional
History.” One does not wonder at anyone becom¬
ing morbid under such circumstances.

“ I remember well,” he writes in November
1854, “ when I was nine years younger than I am
now, that I could not help thinking how odd it was
I was a man. I used to speculate on the position
and the future State of men, and constantly the
thought used to Strike me and obStruft me that I
was myself one of them. To-night but in a sadder
way I have thought the same. I am here at Eton.
I have been unluckily thrown among a set who do
nothing but ridicule my peculiarities (whatever they
may be) among them. Bosque (the name by which
they are pleased to designate me) is only a subject
for laughter. I am, according to them, incapable
of performing in any way the duties of public or
private life. Such things disguSt me beyond
measure, and I believe justly so.”

This is the constantly recurring theme of his
diary. “At present” (November 1854) “I am
totally and thoroughly disgusted with Eton. I
ought not to be, but am. Heaven send me prudence
and friends.” William Johnson’s complaints of
his unsociability were clearly well-founded. “ Was
reproved by my tutor for unsociability and conse¬
quent unpopularity. Felt rebuked, humble, but
can’t help it. By the bye, heard that Cookesley
considers me out of my depth in my division work.
A weakling forsooth. . . . May he some day find
his mistake. A weakling—bah ! ”

Cookesley left Eton too soon to make this dis-
28

SELF-MISTRUST

covery. But at the time Oscar Browning’s low
spirits and inertia made his family apprehensive.
His brother William thinks him melancholy, “ let’s
hope not mad,” adds Oscar. Not even the success
of winning the prize for the Address and reciting it
before the Prince Consort and the future King
Edward cures him of his habitual depression. “ Both
in school and in private I have been unsuccessful
and unhappy, and now I would tell my griefs. . . .
4 {sic) or 3 years ago I was spirited, clever, successful
and everything else. Now I am effete, dilatory, un¬
successful and a fool. And this is attributable to
myself. ... I am 17 and am reckoned clever.
Have done one or two things. But these, alas !
are but the fitful lightnings which expose the dark
gray and the barren moor else invisible. They
only show what I might have been. And possibly
may be. . . .” Michaelmas Day is a good occasion
for further heart-searchings. “ I have fallen into a
very bad way of thinking, acting and a great many
other -ings during the last few months. I know the
cause but dare not tell, not even to my diary.” It
was, one may hazard the guess, one of those
emotional crises not uncommon to clever school¬
boys Struggling with the problems of adolescence.
And then he records how he has got a nought for
his verses. He continues: “I intend to turn over
a new leaf this quarter. I had intended to begin
on the first of Oarober, on which day a quarter and
my income (an allowance of £40 a year) begin. . . .
I have talents. Let me use them.”

The mood, however, soon passed. In a few days
his good resolutions have all evaporated. “ Can’t
write and am in a wretched State as usual. I must
not dawdle. I must apportion well my time and
Stick to it. At present I am going to hell fast, and
what is worse obscurity. Am not and have not been
over well. . . .” He is very much out of conceit

z 9

OSCAR BROWNING

with himself when a few weeks later he says: “ O
that I could learn a lesson from the butterfly, who
firSt appears as a worm crawling and despicable
enough but Still with its uses. Then encloses itself
in a dark ugly skin and troubles no one, and asks
not attention till it bursts out into the full glories of
painted wings and downy colours, admired and
caressed. So far let the comparison go and no
further. ... I have juSt been recurring to the entry
in my diary of the 2iSt October last year.” (His
remarks about the romantic poets already quoted.)
“ I find it dull and conceited. It was a reflection of
myself, but I am no better now. This notebook is
full of that misery and wretchedness which has
been my bane. They say cholera is produced by a
most acrid vinegar-like poison which settles in the
system and produces all the well-known efle&s.
I have a pungent bitter in me. This is the effeCt of
my sensitiveness, and I feel, or wish I could feel, I
deserve it.” Later he declares that nobody knows
his faults better than he does himself, but he is
“ totally unable to cure them.” So it goes on. As
he grows older the tendency to self-analysis that is a
common enough trait of adolescence becomes less.
Yet when he is eighteen and a half it Still persists.
We find him writing on June i, 1855, in an almost
illegible hand : “ I am in the lowest of spirits and
believe myself not to be well. The only thing which
would do me good is training, and that is too
laborious and uncomfortable. However, it is next to
necessary both for mind and body, the one a weedy
wilderness, the other a wreck. I really must try to
do something. . . . Oh, what I might have been.”

But the Oscar Browning we know is beginning to
emerge. He is already making friends and acquaint¬
ances in the great world. Part of the previous
Easier holidays he had spent with Reginald Abbot,
a fellow Etonian, who afterwards became the last

30

LORD ELLENBOROUGH

Lord Colchester. There he had been introduced to
Lord Ellenborough, “ one of the master spirits of
this age.” “ He made my acquaintance warmly,”
the diary informs us, “ and talked of the sameness
of the Eton lists of 50 years’ difference in date.”
And Oscar Browning “ agreed with him.” Another
day Lord Ellenborough dines with his host and
hostess. Lord and Lady Colchester, and is “ graci¬
ous.” The Crimean War had then begun to drag
its length along, and Lord Ellenborough “ suggested
the enlistment of the King of Dahomey’s army, all
black and all women, 7000 Strong, in our foreign
legion, for they fight like devils.” The butterfly
is certainly emerging. Lord Colchester takes him
to the House of Lords, and they have great difficulty
in crossing the Mall because the Emperor Napoleon
is returning to Buckingham Palace from his visit to
the Guildhall. The Empress was not so pretty as
Oscar expected, which he put down to the fa£t that
she probably “ was not becomingly dressed.” He
meets too Sir Robert Dallas, whom he has desired to
see all his life. “ I remember,” he says, “ reading his
book, or rather the Percy extra&s from it, and
thinking how much longer I should have the chance
of writing as he did. He told me of the Italian
order of the spur, a pretty one by the way which I
should like to have.” And he is annoyed at a
certain Mr. Glennan, “ Reggie’s former tutor, who
much to my disgust rather treated me as in the same
boat with himself.” Nor does he allow London to
interfere with his homage to literature. He re¬
writes a poem he had composed on the subject of
Francesca, and presents the new edition to Lady
Colchester, “ who received it graciously.” He

S ends an evening in the Strand watching the
uminations, visits the St. George’s Baths, eats ices
and enjoys himself in a perfectly schoolboy fashion.
In London he was obviously happy.

3i

OSCAR BROWNING

V

Yet if at Eton he had not many friends, he had a
nature capable of romantic affeftion. “At school,”
says Disraeli in Coningsbj, “ friendship is a passion.
It entrances the being; it tears the soul.” So it
was with Oscar Browning. On his seventeenth
birthday he makes this entry : “ To-day I received
the greatest pleasure that for many days I have
received, indeed a noble birthday gift, an hour of
Prothero’s ” (F. T. E. Prothero) “ society. For the
last three weeks have I prayed to God that his heart
might have changes and he might love, and my
prayer hath been answered. For to-day I met him
and walked with him. I told him that it was my
birthday, and his lips wished me many happy returns
of the day. Surely God will receive that prayer,
surely I am blessed in that wish. Why I should
love Prothero as I do I cannot tell, but I do love
him and I believe that that love ennobles me and
purifies me. It gives me an objeft for my work and
my affections, truly a noble one.” A year later there
occurs in another page of self-analysis : “ I know
that what I want in life is someone to love. . . . My
object is not love, but love without his wings,
friendship. A half or two ago I saw a boy named
Dunmore. I was Struck by his eyes. I have been
more so by his manner and everything about him.
My wishes, my hopes and fears begin and terminate
in him. I have found that he is a lord, but I loved
him before. I never shall have a chance of knowing
him, perhaps not one of speaking to him.” An
ideal passion could hardly go further than this.

Let us not think him, however, always a book¬
worm, a prig or a dreamer. Oscar Browning’s days
were much like those of other Etonians, more
distinguished or obscure than himself. Though he
never had the slightest skill at games he played them

32

CRICKET AND CARDS

all. His favourite was fives, which he considered
“ beat football out of sight.” Evidently he was
nothing of a cricketer. “Yesterday,” he writes to
his mother, “ on hearing that I played cricket my
tutor laughed immoderately and said he’d bowl me
out. I went and played with him in the Home
Park. He didn’t, however, succeed in his objeCt.”
The sight of an Eton tutor, and that tutor William
Johnson, bowling to one of his pupils beneath the
CaStle walls suggests more leisured and spacious
days than ours. But in the ’fifties organised games
were Still in the womb of time. Naturally too the
river drew him. When he boats it is usually with
a book under his arm. He tells us how he and
another boy read Shakespeare aloud together on
summer afternoons. On a whole holiday he is one
of an eight which rows down to Richmond, and
they come home by train. Naturally he drinks
beer. “ Nothing puts me in such spirits as pale ale,
though I don’t like it. I have sipped liqueurs in
French cafes to no end of an extent. I have drunk
cognac’d coffee to the same, but I never felt in better
spirits.” He meditates a breakfast party at Web¬
ber’s, “ but must enquire as to £ s. d. etc.” He
gets a passport for “ up-town ” because of the
“pig-headedness of the Eton tradesmen.” The
evenings he sometimes passes at cards, though he
considers them rather a waste of time. “ Spent the
evening somewhat unsatisfactorily. Played vingt-
et-un and lost i/-.” On the top of this dissipation
he “ did 30 verses in J of an hour.” He adds:
“ To-morrow I do nothing. I have been going it
tremendously with Evans and that set lately and
think them devilish pleasant fellows.” In Brussels
during his holidays he develops a taSte for billiards.
“ Played Billiards all the afternoon. Cost me 40
centimes.” Dances occupy his evenings. He com¬
plains not uncharacteristically of having received no
D 33

OSCAR BROWNING

invitation to the King’s ball, though he had been
presented at Court the previous summer. And he
submits like any other boy to the Crimean War
fever. “ Great news, glorious news,” he writes
on Oftober 7, 1854. “All this kind of thing is
going on and men are in the greatest State of excite¬
ment, and I with them, concerning the war.”

Oscar Browning’s thoughts, however, even as a
boy never for long Strayed far from the first person.
His ambition, his desire to cut a figure in the world,
never left him to enjoy his lethargy, his cards or his
billiards for long. “ I have been proposed for Pop
and rejected by nine black balls. Not so many as I
expe&ed among 26 members none of whom
scarcely I know. However, am not disheartened.
... As there is only one more vacancy in Pop I
am afraid I shall not get in.” (He was, in faft,
elefted.) “It is and has always been my ambi¬
tion, I wish I could write and speak English.”
The Bar had always attracted him, and indeed con¬
tinued to do so long after he had become an Eton
Master. But it had drawbacks. At sixteen he
writes : “ I have had my ideas about most things,
more particularly my future life, much modified
and changed. In the first place I am told on all
sides that a barrister’s life is by no means the most
comfortable in existence, and that I shall after
working like a horse (or an ass) for 6 years arrive
at the attainment of £300 a year. . . . No, I am
convinced that the only way of advancement, par¬
ticularly to such as me, is work. I have no rank.
I have no fortune. But I have a head and brains as
good or bad as moSt.” So he decides that what he
muSt aim at is “ high Academical distinction.” “ I
am convinced,” he adds, “that even literary distinc¬
tion is gained by work and brains. It is all very
well to say that geniuses are idle, but nevertheless
’tis a lie. If geniuses are idle they never come to

34

MUSIC

good. Byron worked not perhaps at Latin and
Greek, but read his life. Moore worked. Mat
Arnold worked. Tennyson worked. May I.”

One aspeft of his life at Eton has yet to be
mentioned, his love for music. “ Good music,”
he writes when he is sixteen, “ quite carries me
away, it completely fills me. I forget that I am a
man or walk the earth. The really most affefting
music I have ever heard was at Antwerp at the
Church of the Augustins. It was a fete day. The
moment the procession entered the church the organ
began, and with the organ the whole orchestra. I
never was so entranced.” He had a low opinion
of the singing in Eton Chapel. “ Yesterday we
had Mozart’s anthem, ‘ Plead thou my cause,’ grand
and noble in the extreme as all his are. But badly
sung and worse played.” Even at that early age
he was under no doubt that Mozart was the supreme
master. “ There certainly never lived a greater or
more perfeft genius,” is one judgment in his diary.
And he runs on : “ His masses are the best now exist¬
ing. His comic songs surpass everything, and his
tragedy and sentiment are as good. O that he had
written an oratorio.” A cantata of Sir Frederick
Ouseley’s he finds “ good for nowadays but deficient
in richness of instrumentation and harmony.”
Israel in Egypt is “ very fine as music but not an
epic by any means.” He was not content with
being a mere listener. He organised a choir which
progressed favourably, or would have done so if
only the members would have sung in tune. “ I prac¬
tise and praftise, and din into their ears the difference
between semitones and tones.” The trebles, how¬
ever, were unapt pupils. And he did not negleft
the theory of music. “ Read a treatise on music.
I understand something of harmony and counter¬
point. I cannot quite get all the intervals and
chords. They muSt be the sub jefts of long Study.”

35

OSCAR BROWNING

The world was too full of interesting things.
There was Italian, in which he had private lessons,
much to the disgust of his mathematical master, who
saw in this an additional excuse for his negleft of
mathematics. There was art and Ruskin : “ I am
learning the principles of taSte; if Ruskin’s system
be false, it is at least a system and one of some
Stamina, to judge of the work and the man which
produced it.” And there was philosophy and
Locke; his Essay on the Conduit of the Underhanding
had to be “ read and re-read and meditated on
thoroughly.” Theology too attratts him. He is
“ really in danger of believing it an attradtive
Study.” He wishes he could investigate that
“ hard but interesting subject, the brethren of our
Lord.” And there were novels. The Shaving of
Shagpat , which had juSt come out—“ Wallahy, but
it is good ! ”—and The Heir of Kedclyjfe. “ I am
not sure of the purity of the Style, but Miss Young
(sic) must be very superior in attainments, especially
metaphysics.” And there was the Saturday 'Review
every week. No wonder that his last year at Eton
was not marked by any great academic diStindtion
and that he was hardly as high in the Seledt for the
Newcastle as in the preceding year, and that his
tutor considered he was wasting his abilities and in
danger of becoming a dilettante.

But Oscar Browning was now nineteen and the
time was fast approaching when he would have to
leave Eton. At first there was talk of his going to
Oxford. His mother’s means were slender, how¬
ever, and his brother William had many calls on his
purse. Expense had to be considered. A scholar¬
ship was essential. It was suggested that he should
try for a poSt-maStership at Merton. To this he was
agreeable, but he demurred to the proposal of going
to Oxford as a Bible clerk. “ My energies,” he
wrote to his mother, “ would be crushed by the

36

OXFORD OR CAMBRIDGE?

constant irritation of a position which I knew I was
not fit for. I should lose all the advantages of an
education which I feel when finished will be my
fortune.” Nor was he favourable to the idea that
he should supplement his resources by coaching in
the vacations. “ I do not think,” he says, “ you
have a right to experi fruits of an education till that
education is finished. If I have been working hard,
as I sincerely hope I shall, for honours at Oxford, I
shall probably be so tired in the holidays that I shall
want recreation. Or, on the other hand, in most
holidays I shall want to read myself. In neither of
these cases could I take a pupil. As to my posi¬
tion. What is my position ? One who has to work
for his living, I know, but in company with many
of his own class. I go to William’s. I find him
keeping horses and drinking champagne on fete
days. I go to Arthur and find him moft comfort¬
able with his hunter and his champagne. I go to
Brussels. I find you comfortable as far as your
means go, associating with people of your own
position. Am I not a gentleman, by birth, by
education, by feeling ? ”

Not Oxford, however, but Cambridge was to
claim him. His future was determined by the
bounty of Henry VI. In the examination for
entrance to King’s, which at that time ensured a
competence for life to one who remained a bachelor,
he was placed fourth. John Witt, destined to
become a well-known Q.C., was first; Churton, who,
if the Anglican Church were not so incurably modest,
would already be a candidate for beatification, was
second; F. A. Bosanquet, who like Witt attained
eminence at the Bar, was third. For a time it was
doubtful if Oscar would obtain a vacancy. But his
family by means of a douceur persuaded a Fellow of
the College to resign some months before he had
intended. So on July 27, 1856, Oscar Browning’s

37

OSCAR BROWNING

gown was “ ripped ” by the ProvoSt of Eton and
he became a member of the major foundation of the
royal saint, a connection that lasted for sixty-seven
years and was only terminated by his death at
Rome in 1923.

VI

The account of his four years as an undergraduate
need form little more than a footnote to this sketch
of Oscar Browning the schoolboy. They appear to
the biographer as the dimmest and least documented
of his life. Three slender and partially kept diaries
show by their meagre entries and impersonal tone
that he had emerged from the trials of adolescence
and that he was happy, rather extravagant and
moderately industrious. O. B.’s later description
of himself as an undergraduate—a conceited prig, in
his own words—give one no help. What able
young man in the early twenties, who has enjoyed
the advantages of being educated at Eton and
Cambridge, is not conceited ? And though Oscar
Browning had his foibles and idiosyncrasies, prig¬
gishness was not one of them.

If we judge him by his friends he comes through
the test well, for the coterie of which he was not the
least prominent member included Montagu Butler,
Henry Sidgwick, R. C. Jebb, G. O. Trevelyan,
F. A. Bosanquet, Calverley and Frank Cornish, the
dearest of all his friends, who came up from Eton
a year later than he did. Amidst this welter of
youthful intellect O. B. discovered that he was no
Whig, but a Liberal, even a Radical, that his political
creed could rest securely on the writings of John
Stuart Mill, and that his life must be devoted to the
cause of humanity. He foresaw the advent of demos
and meant to do what he could to make it a reason¬
able and a cultured demos. The social revolution
seemed a very imminent thing to thoughtful and

38

PRESIDENT OF THE UNION

enthusiastic young men of the mid-Vi£torian era.
They wished only to throw over its nakedness the
decent cloak of Reform, to satisfy its hunger with
the wholesome bread of Retrenchment. And over
the whole pi&ure there floated the dove of Peace.

There was, of course, much Stupidity and con¬
servatism to be overcome. At Eton the current of
public opinion had been too Strong to swim against
with comfort. But King’s was small, and if the
little group of Eton scholars disapproved of his
zeal and sent him to Coventry because he insisted
on speaking at the Union, he could find congenial
society in Trinity, where not Eton but Rugby gave
its moral zeal and bracing tone to that auguSt
foundation. He wanted to fit himself to be a
Statesman and a trainer of Statesmen, and as a
Stepping-Stone towards that end he became President
of the Union, the first King’s-man to be so for
nineteen years.

Though he aspired to “ high academical honours,”
exaft, professional scholarship had little attractions
for him. Without undue exertion—“ average read¬
ing three and a half hours,” “ average reading four
and a half hours,” are common enough entries in
his diary at the end of the week—he succeeded in
being one of the four candidates for University
Scholarships who were called upon to do an extra
paper, the other three being Peile, Abbot and Jebb.
His success Stopped there. He was fourth in the
Classical Tripos, the three above him being brac¬
keted together first. When the news was shouted
to him from someone in the Court below, O. B.,
who was leaning over his window-sill, said “Damn.”
That seems to have been the sum of his regret to
have missed by little the highest distinction which
the Study of the Classics could then afford to its
pampered children at Cambridge.

For the rest he led the pleasant life of the under-

39

OSCAR BROWNING

graduate, passing no litde of his mornings in break¬
fast parties at which College ale was Still drunk,
though only as a chasse-cafe , playing fives, or rowing,
or swimming, or going for walks in the afternoon
and devoting many of the long evenings which
followed dinner in Hall at five to “wines.” His
polymathy was Still as marked as ever, but he does
not seem to have read with the insatiable zeSt of
his Eton days. Talk, one may suspedt, had taken
the place of books, talk for which the Union, the
“ ApoStles ” meetings, and more intimate parties
gave endless opportunity. So the years slipped by
with young ambition preparing itself in that
Epicurean milieu for the battle that was to come.
The qualms of wasted opportunities, so Strong at
Eton, were Still with him. After noting in his diary
the names of the gueSts whom he had entertained
to dinner on his twenty-third birthday he adds the
first two lines of Milton’s sonnet inspired by a similar
occasion and similar regrets. Like Milton too,
Oscar Browning felt himself to be ever in his great
Taskmaster’s eye. Religious observances played a
regular part in his life, and on those Sundays when
there was no celebration of the Holy Communion in
King’s Chapel, he used to repair to St. Giles’, even
marking Saints’ days in this solemn manner. And
in the vacations he would attend church regularly
twice on Sundays and note in his diary his opinion
of the sermons. Ultimately in the spring of i860,
after he had been teaching for a fortnight at Liver¬
pool and was Still quite uncertain whether he would
devote his abilities to education or to the law, he
received a telegram from Dr. Goodford offering
him the post of an assistant mastership at Eton, and
Saturn being the adverse element in his horoscope,
he entered upon his new duties rather ominously
on Saturday, May 12, of that year.

40

CHAPTER III

ETON AND REFORM

I

When Oscar Browning returned to Eton as an
Assistant Master he found an excellent field for his
self-imposed r 61 e of reformer. Eton, governed by
its ProvoSt and Fellows, had so far resisted the
changes that the times demanded. Montem and
other abuses had been abolished. The material
conditions of the Collegers had been ameliorated.
But the old classical curriculum Still held undisputed
sway. And parents were becoming restive. They
wanted their sons to know something about the
modern world. Modern languages, modern history,
not least science, were already surrounded with a
prestige that adumbrated their future intellectual and
commercial importance, and fathers were becoming
anxious that their sons should not pass through their
school careers in ignorance of these phases of human
activity. The old classical education, which had
reached its high-water mark under Butler at Shrews¬
bury, was suspeCt. It was growing doubtful
whether a knowledge of Homer and the Latin poets
was of itself a sufficient intellectual equipment for
an English gentleman. Public opinion, concerned
about the public schools in general, was specially
concerned about Eton, and the currents of reform
were beginning to swirl round its immemorial
Stones. It was full of abuses which no Govern¬
ment could afford to ignore much longer. The
elderly clerics who as Fellows composed its

4i

OSCAR BROWNING

governing body were untouched by the intelle&ual
ferment of the mid-Vi£fcorian era. The desire for
reform was growing articulate, and something
would have to be done very soon.

It was a golden opportunity for a young Radical,
himself nurtured in this home of tradition, to march
like David against the Philistines. And for fifteen
years he did so. “ I never worked so hard for
anything in my life as I did to liberalise Eton,” he
says in his old age. The Story of his career at
Eton, though the thread is often difficult to follow
in the controversies with which it was entangled,
coincides with a definite Stage in the transition of
our public schools. On the one side was the
“ Old Eton party,” represented by Dr. Good-
ford, Head Master till 1862 and then ProvoSt during
the remaining years Oscar Browning was at Eton,
Dr. BalSton, a splendid example of the scholar and
gentleman parson of the old school, and by nearly
all the senior masters. Chief among the younger
Conservatives was Edmond Warre, who returned
to Eton at the same time as Oscar Browning.
Hornby, who became Head Master in the com¬
mencement of 1868, though for a year or two he
was claimed by the Liberals, and indeed professed
himself to be one, was really in sympathy with the
party of tradition. The impression he gives is that
of an able but narrow-minded man with the exag¬
gerated sense of importance which Head Masters
so easily acquire. He certainly was no Farrar or
Temple.

On the other side were ranged Browning and a
group of younger masters, Ainger, Wayte, Cornish,
James and others. William Johnson, that attra&ive
but elusive personality. Stands alone and criticises
both parties. There was little doubt which was
the Stronger. The reformers might be supported
by what is generally called enlightened opinion, but

42

BROWNING AND WARRE

the “ Old Eton party ” controlled the machine and
in an emergency could draw on the loyalty that the
public school spirit gives to constituted authority.
It was an inherent weakness in Oscar Browning’s
position, that he seemed to be a£ting in opposition
to his own chief. How true it was, the record of
his Eton life will show. In any case his opponents
did not fail to emphasise the point when the crisis
came. He never in retrospeft regarded Hornby as
anything but a man of Straw. His principal oppo¬
nent he always believed was Edmond Warre. No
two men could have been more unlike, either in
temperament or appearance. “ Usus optimus
magiSter ” might have been Warre’s motto. “ A
life without discussion is not worth living ” was
Browning’s. If Warre influenced Hornby against
him, as he always firmly believed, there is no
evidence in Oscar Browning’s voluminous corre¬
spondence to show it. On the other hand,
though their natural antipathy is undisguised,
Warre’s letters to Browning, unlike those of
Hornby, leave an impression' of sincerity. Both
in conversation fulminated against the other. But
at Eton in the ’sixties and ’seventies, it is clear.that
everyone talked about everyone else. The masters,
and their wives and daughters, all discussed each
other with candour rather than with charity.

II

Eton, however, is Eton. Oscar Browning,
though he returned there as an ardent Radical
burning to flesh his sword in the numerous abuses
that he saw around him, was none the less a loyal
son when it came to defending Eton against the
outside world. “ Sir,” writes one who has been
bold enough to raise his voice, “ I have been
favoured with your note in which you are good

43

OSCAR BROWNING

enough to give me your opinion that the education
at Eton, moral, intelle&ual and physical, is the heft
in the world, and that my opinion to the contrary
is the result of ignorance more or less wilful. I
regret that I am unable to profit by this scholastic
treatment of the subject, whilst there is obviously
no room for improvement in your mind, and that
our correspondence becomes, therefore, useless.”
“ Snob ” is the pencilled comment, snobbery being
a falling he was quick to deteft in others. Eton
had to be reformed, but it had to be done by
Etonians. Theirs was the responsibility, theirs too
would be the credit. By becoming a schoolmaster
Oscar Browning had sacrificed his personal ambi¬
tions. He had put by politics, the law, letters.
It was some consolation to think that under his
hand lay a task not unworthy of his powers. He
pictured—and he had always that quality of vision
which is one of the marks of greatness—a new
Eton, educating a governing class in the delight of
all intellectual pursuits, a governing class that would
owe its position not only to wealth and privilege,
but also to its Platonic virtues of wisdom and
goodness. It was a fascinating prospeCt, a prospeCt
which fascinated him to the end of his long life.
“ I always believe,” he writes in 1913, “ that if my
party had won at Eton instead of Warre’s, the
Parliament ACt would never have been passed.
Warre and Hornby did their best to ruin Eton and
the country, and a terrible responsibility rests upon
them.”

The task too, important as it was for the future
of England and the Empire, offered immediate
compensations. Eton, in the words of Professor
Blackie, “ was an elegant and refined seat of taSte,
learning, conservatism and wealth, where the masters
make £2000 or £4000 or £5000 clear profit, and
where the whole world appears to be walking with

44

“THE REV. OSCAR BROWNING”

silk slippers on silk carpets.” Oscar Browning
liked walking on silken carpets. If he was a
PlatoniSt, he was also an Epicurean. On his library
he spent £300 a year; no gentleman at that time
could spend less, he used to observe in later days.
But he had a care too for his wine-cellar and was
already a curious though not, as in later years, an in¬
satiable gourmandiser. He rode to hounds. When
he travelled, as he did every holidays, he was
attended by his personal servant. A courier added
both comfort and dignity to his journeys. Thanks
to Eton he was able to command these things. He
took them as the return due to him for his renun¬
ciation of the greater world. “ Why should a man,”
he asks in one of his letters to Arthur Sidgwick,
“ directly he becomes a schoolmaster, be thought
as unfit for civilised society as if he had taken
orders ? ” The lay schoolmaster, indeed, whatever
his social advantages, was Still seriously handicapped
compared with his clerical colleagues. Oscar’s
elder brother thought it a misfortune that his
haziness on questions of dogma prevented him
from taking orders. An Eton mastership indeed
was a kind of order, and many of his correspondents,
including John Ruskin, persisted in addressing him
as the Rev. Oscar Browning long after they had
opportunity of observing the laicity of his mind
and chara&er. From the worldly point of view it
was a pity that he remained a layman. He must
look forward at some time to retiring. If he could
not take a living, what was he to do ? At twenty-
three it was already obvious that he was not one
of those who save money.

Yet though Eton offered both material compensa¬
tions and spiritual rewards, the idea of being a
schoolmaster all his life was often irksome. He
Still looked longingly towards the Bar and began
to eat dinners. He will save £20,000. With that

45

OSCAR BROWNING

he will embark on the career of his choice. His
brother William again turns his own common-sense
on to this projected ladder of young ambition.
“ What good will it do you,” he asks, “ to be
called barri§ter-at-law ? Any employment that
would be given you twenty years hence would be
given to you, not as a barrister, but as a distinguished
Eton master. Then for the £20,000—it will take,
under favourable circumstances, with unbroken
health, without a wife, with StriCt self-denial, twenty
years to make that sum. Do you think that at
forty-five you will have the freshness of mind to
turn to a new pursuit, to make your home and take
your position in the world ? I think that you see
only the outside of things and are taken with the
tinsel and glitter of what is not gold.” The elder
brother, if he understood one side of his character,
underrated the powers of the younger. Oscar
continued to eat dinners. But the interest of his
life at Eton by degrees softened his regrets. And
he could always console himself with the reflection,
which he makes to his friend Sidgwick, that if he
were only a schoolmaster, he was nevertheless “ in
however humble a way. Still forwarding the interests
of humanity.”

Ill

Young intelleffcuals took their Liberalism seriously
in the ’sixties. They had the same earnestness as
the Fabians of the early 1900’s. They were Fascists
in everything except violence. The youthful
Radical schoolmaster never forgot that the world,
as well as Eton, had to be set right. And to his
hand lay the most splendid material. What finer
opportunity was there of doing good than moulding
the characters of those who as men would rule
England? Besides, he soon discovered that he

46

THE IDEAL SCHOOLMASTER

had a peculiar genius for influencing and drawing
out the young. This caused him, as nothing else
could, to become reconciled to his lot.

So he threw himself with ardour into the task
before him. He draws up an elaborate statement
of his views for the reform of Eton. More than
this he surveys the whole field of public school
education and corresponds actively with his friends
who are inspired by the same ideals in the other
great schools, with Montagu Butler, Bowen and
Young at Harrow, with Sidgwick at Rugby. There
had never been a time when the ungrateful vocation
of the schoolmaster attra&ed so many of the best
brains and finest characters from both the Univer¬
sities. Two or three times a term these young
enthusiasts, who rejoiced in the science of peda¬
gogics, met together in a society known as the
“ U. U.” They dined together, often at the Star and
Garter, and then one of them read a paper on some
educational subject. These were sometimes printed
for private circulation. One that lies before me
advocates “inequality and so to speak caprice in
punishment.” It ends: “ The perfect schoolmaster,
if he is ever formed by the wisdom of a series of
U. U. essays, will behave to his ordinary punishees
as patients whose treatment is a matter for resource,
experiment, curiosity, comparison and scientific
interest. He will remember that boys are, on the
whole, about as good as masters. He will never
feel himself bound to any rules at all, and in speaking
of faults he will, even with his culprits, be quite
natural and honest.” This paper was not, it may
be said, by Oscar Browning. But caprice and
favouritism were two of the offences his adversaries
at Eton brought up against him, and it was for
putting into practice such precepts as the writer of
this essay inculcates that his difficulties at Eton
multiplied upon him.

47

OSCAR BROWNING

These, however, came later. During his earlier
years he grew ever more optimistic. Success
seemed within his grasp. In 1866 he writes: “I
am so prosperous as almost to be astonished myself.
No wish that I could have here is unfulfilled.
War re is crushed and BalSton is becoming a re¬
former.” Yet the old doubts emerge. Even here
he adds : “ But the more happy I ought to be, the
less happy I am. I look back on my undergraduate
days as the only bright ones of my life, and long
for your society ” (he is writing to Arthur Sidgwick)
“ and Jebb and the rest of the wise and good.”
It was not on this occasion any of the fancied ills,
over which his mother used to accuse him of
brooding, that inspired his thoughts. It was rather
the restlessness, the demon of ambition that was
ever at his elbow. His mother knew and grieved.
“ You mar your usefulness,” she writes to him on
one occasion, “ by constantly looking beyond what
you are for what you may be.”

IV

What exaftly did Oscar Browning want to do at
Eton ? To foster intellect, to discourage the rising
worship of athleticism ? That is how he answered
the question himself. As regards athleticism he
failed hopelessly. Its cult has long since spread
from the public to the preparatory schools. The
boys of the elementary schools are hardly less
affefted. If there is any dominant interest in
England to-day it is games. Its only rival in the
minds of the young is applied science, and science
he utterly detested as a means of education. In his
opinion the classics were the only basis of culture.
In the battle for compulsory Greek at Cambridge,
O. B. was a Stalwart. It did not matter, he said,
whether those who learnt Greek at school forgot

48

THE BEDROCK OF THE CLASSICS

it afterwards. A boy who had once construed a
Greek sentence had thereafter his whole outlook
on life changed. The classics were the bedrock of
morality, citizenship, culture. He urged his views
with paradox and jeSt. “ All science consisted of
looking through a very small hole for a very long
time.” Mathematics he disliked even more than
science. It is evident that this conservative young
Radical, who believed in Greek and the House of
Lords and the principle of inheritance, who wanted
to put games in their proper place and to keep the
classics, suitably humanised, predominant in public
school education, was ranged against Stronger forces
than he dreamt of. But he never changed his
views. He considered that the attempt of the
present-day curriculum to cover so many fields of
knowledge was useless as education and very nearly
so as instruction. Ultimately he reached the point
of condemning the whole system of public school
education. “ The Great War,” he said senten-
tiously, “ was won by the boys of the elementary
schools.”

Oscar Browning was full of the contradictions
that to the hostile critic make the unpractical idealist.
As. a reformer, he used from the vantage point of
old age to extol the Eton education of the ’fifties.
At its best he claimed that the rigid discipline of
instruction by the division master in school and the
free intercourse between tutor and pupil in pupil-
room were unsurpassed. It was a noble education
which gave to many eminent Victorians that grandeur
of Style which our age lacks. But it was, like
nature, wasteful. Forms in school were unwieldy.
Tutors profiteered in the number of their pupils.
Dr. BalSton thought fifty a reasonable number.
At one time he had seventy-two. As the sequel
will show, the number was eventually fixed at forty.
Even this was a large number for one man’s super-
e 49

OSCAR BROWNING

vision. The clever boys, as a result, got most of
their tutor’s attention. The rest were left to do the
beSt they could. When a genius like William
Johnson set himself to Study the aptitude of every
pupil, his colleagues considered him to indulge in
favouritism. Oscar Browning, as I have said, was
similarly criticised. He was thought too to be lazy;
he regarded rules without punctiliousness, he did
not sit up till the early hours at the thankless task of
corre&ing work, which with some schoolmasters
becomes a sacrificial obsession; his favourite
method of education was talk, Socratic and unend¬
ing talk. It was natural, if undeserved, that an
Eton poet should describe “ a Strenuous sloth ” as
his “ great gift.”

The changes that he desired would have left the
essential character of the old-fashioned classical
education untouched. It would have been based
on the culture and knowledge that are gained by
the Study of great literature. Only with this
foundation could the philosopher-statesman be
trained to comprehend the true dignity of human
affairs. But modem languages and modem history
were not less essential for anyone who wished to
perform justly, skilfully and magnanimously all the
offices, both public and private, of peace and war.
Oscar Browning was a disciple of Milton. Amongst
his educational works is an edition of the Tractate.
And if a boy had a scientific bent and no taSte for
the letters on which civilisation rests, then it should
be indulged by the Study of chemistry and physics.
We find this champion of a literary education pro¬
viding, as a house master, at his own expense, the
means whereby his pupils with aptitude for science
could Study those subjects; the first regular instruc¬
tion in science, as he has claimed, ever given in
Eton.

50

CONTROVERSY

V .

As the result of these views, Oscar Browning
found himself in agreement neither with those who
believed in the supreme virtue of Latin grammar
and Greek verse, nor with the masters who wanted
to see mathematics and science set side by side
with Homer and the gods of Greece and Rome.
Brandreth, a mathematical master, writes to him in
1863 complaining that he “has flung Stones into
their shop ” (a lapse, one feels, from the dignity
of Eton controversy), and pointing out that, allow¬
ing for there being “ five decent boys ” turned out
annually by Eton and King’s, which between them
absorb £40,000 net revenue, each boy costs £8000
a year. He thinks this a dear bargain. “ Now
there are more matters in which the masters may
reform, and instead of calling out to have more
power put in their hands, show themselves faithful
in that which is their own. Look on your pupils
as a College, see where your treatment differs from
that pursued in a successful College. There is
probably no College in Cambridge where there is
not a tutor assistant for every twenty under¬
graduates, usually, I should say, every fourteen.”
He ends on a more personal note. “ Could you
do nothing to prevent the use of cribs, particularly
in Pop, or kickabout after ten ? Or the boys keep¬
ing their hands in those disgusting pockets ? And
could you not set the boys an example of the religion
you preach by occasionally coming to Chapel ? ”
Brandreth left soon afterwards in disgust and wrote
a pamphlet on reform at Eton which he sent to
Browning. “ I see that it has not penetrated the
serenity of your self-satisfa6tion,” he says in a
subsequent letter. O. B. was hardly likely to agree
with a mathematical master, even when that master

5i

OSCAR BROWNING

deplored with him “ the honour and respeft which
successful idleness often ensured at Eton.”

So much for the mathematical master who could
not be expe&ed to understand the virtues of a
classical training, who showed its lack even in his
Style. But, on the other hand, the schoolmen with
their trivium, their dry-as-duSt grammar and their
rhetoric, now sunk to mere learning by rote, were
equally trying. Browning makes his Division learn
English poetry, and thereby treads heavily on the
Head Master’s pet foible. A note is the result,
curt yet polite, and ending categorically: “ The
learning of English poetry I do not wish to
encourage.” Even on the high ground of the
classics they disagree. He gives an annual prize of
£j for Greek iambics very soon after returning to
Eton. But it raises a correspondence between him
and the Head Master which lasts on and off for
five years, and finally ends in Dr. BalSton returning
the £•), as he cannot agree to the conditions which
Browning asserts are to guide its adjudicators.
Naturally, too. Browning wished to write to the
papers. Nowadays, when Head Masters and Deans
and Bishops are regular and highly paid contributors
of the daily Press, it seems an innocent enough
desire. But in the ’sixties the papers were “ the
public prints,” and Dr. BalSton, after Stating a
general disapproval, gives him leave “ so long as
only his initials are appended.”

VI

All this talk of reform was given a point d’appui
when in 1861 the Government appointed a Royal
Commission to investigate the condition of the
seven great public schools. The Commission
turned its attention first on Eton, which was
generally supposed to Stand most in need of change,

52

THE ROYAL COMMISSION

and in 1862 inquired minutely into its administration
and organisation. Oscar Browning was not slow
to take advantage of the opportunity. He drew
up a memorandum of some 200 pages, which the
members obviously read with care, for they examined
him upon the views therein set out with the patience
that Royal Commissions always possess. His main
theme was the growing influence of athleticism.
He suggested that it might be countered by offering
more school prizes and surrounding them with
greater eclat. Every boy, he observed, knew the
names of the Eight. Few knew, or cared, who
won the Newcastle. “ We want,” he said, “ a
thorough rearrangement, not only of our calendar,
but of our day.” There were too many subje&s
at one time. Modern languages and modern history
ought to become regular school subjefts. Con¬
struing in pupil-room should be abolished. “ On
the whole,” said William Johnson to him, “ I think-
your reforming zeal too destructive and too much
like zeal for personal relief. Warre is set against
the cultivation of the intellect chiefly by your uneasy
cultivation of it.” But he ranged wider than asking
for mere changes in the curriculum. He deplored
the habit of drinking at the Christopher and the
Tap, the slovenly nature of the Chapel services
(where music should form a part of the week-day
morning service with a voluntary choir recruited
from the boys), the poor sermons. Assistant
Masters, presumably lay as well as clerical, should
sometimes preach on Sundays. This would be “ a
valued privilege.” In one point he agreed with
Warre, who, as the Commissioners reported, had
“ taken an aftive and lively interest in what may
be called the physical side of education at Eton.”
This was in favour of the abolition of the Collegers’
gown. “ I have never known,” said Oscar Brown¬
ing in his evidence, “ a Colleger to have any great

53

OSCAR BROWNING

or wide influence in the school at large. A Colleger
enjoys the privilege of being in the society of clever
boys among whom work is general and fashionable
and where he has every inducement to exertion.
On the other hand, he breathes a somewhat confined
atmosphere. He does not drink to the full the
spirit of Eton.” This proposal, however, was
defeated mainly by the opposition of the Collegers.

In other respe&s the Commissioners’ Report was
a viftory for Oscar Browning and the Liberals, a
defeat for the Head Master and the “ Old Eton ”
party. A less conscientious man than Dr. BalSton,
whose obstinacy was as inflexible as his courtesy,
would have resigned. He was beaten on nearly
every point. “ Not a day,” he had said, “ should
be spent on the acquisition of French.” Now
modem languages were to be a part of the work in
school. He had clung to the learning of the Greek
and Latin poets by rote, “ a thing which boys at any
rate cannot get done for them.” The time spent
upon this, the Commissioners recommended, should
be curtailed. Construing in pupil-room in pre¬
paration for Division lessons was to be abolished.
All these reforms Oscar Browning had advocated
The number of school holidays was commented on.
The Chapel services were scathingly criticised. The
Commissioners thought that there ought to be
music at the morning services. On Still another
point the Commissioners reported on the lines that
he had favoured. The Status of the Head Master
had been in question. Should he be given com¬
plete authority? Should he be practically free of
the control of the ProvoSt and the Governing Body
in matters of school management ? Oscar Brown¬
ing was of opinion that if the Head Master were
to all intents absolute, as at Harrow or Rugby,
he would be more open to receive suggestions.
William Johnson, a shrewder judge of the forces

54

THE HEAD MASTER AS AUTOCRAT

that count in institutions, was against such despot¬
ism. The recommendation that the Head Master
should have uncontrolled power of selefting and
dismissing Assistant Masters was one that Browning
would have supported when it was made. Around
this point thirteen years later centred the battle
with Hornby, when Browning fought against the
Head Master’s use of that very power which had
been turned against himself.

55

CHAPTER IV

OSCAR BROWNING AS SCHOOLMASTER

I

Oscar Browning may have been restive at the
checks placed upon him by the Head Master. He
may have been impatient with colleagues who dis¬
agreed with him. As tutor and ruler of a house
he showed a very different side to his character.
His ability to shed every trace of intellectual con¬
descension in his intercourse with his pupils par¬
took, indeed, of genius. This and the undisguised
pleasure which their society gave him were the
secret of his influence. That reverence for youth,
which Mr. Hugh Macnaughten has ascribed to
Warre, can be accorded with equal justice to Oscar
Browning. “ A born master of novices ” was how
one of his pupils once summed him up. He
watched, directed and tended with an apparent
absence of effort that increased the effectiveness of
his method.

The vice of systems, pedagogic and otherwise,
is that they arrange and classify. His philosophy
was based on the belief in the uniqueness of the
human soul. That was an age when systems
flourished. Following the fashion, he wished to
formulate a body of theory for the complete school¬
master. In 1868 he writes: " It would be well if
schoolmasters could adopt the plan of describing
their cases of education as methodically and accu¬
rately as a doCtor describes his cures. In this way
a mass of information might be collected which
would be of the greatest use in forming a true

THE NON-EXISTENT STUPID BOY

theory of education.” It was Oscar Browning’s
supreme quality that he was, as he himself admitted,
“ hopelessly unscientific.” He was an artist who
followed no guide but his own intuition. His one
working rule was that the Stupid boy did not exist.
If any seemed Stupid, the fault lay in himself for
not haying found the exaCt spot in which their
min ds were assailable. He used to say that at
Eton he only knew one boy who was hopelessly
Stupid, and that he subsequently took a high place
in the competitive examination for the Civil Service.
As he grew older it seemed a foible of his to deteCt
genius. “ My beloved Bob,” he writes to Lord
Latymer in 1919, “ my secretary who was really a
genius, has been killed by an accident in South
Russia. I found him at Hastings when he was a
poor boy minding a shop and knew that he was a
genius. He had no money and was of humble
birth.” People smiled at his discoveries and re¬
garded them as an amiable, or unamiable, weakness,
according to their personal feelings towards him.
O. B. courted smiles as he courted misunderstand¬
ing, and if at Eton a few masters sympathised and
wished him well, the rest interpreted his negle£t
of the finer shades of routine as laziness, his
readiness to talk on all subje&s at large and at
length as superficiality, and his wit, which some¬
times appeared to them to coruscate dangerously,
as unsoundness on those moral questions which lie
at the foundations of society. They missed the
underlying seriousness for which his humour was
often a cloak.

How Stimulating he was to the gifted few,
Mr. A. C. Benson, who did not always say kind
things about O. B., shows us in a few lines he
contributed to Eton in the ’Seventies . He is writing
on the high ideal of culture which characterised a
particular generation of boys, very prominent about

57

OSCAR BROWNING

1876: “J. K. Stephen, Sir Cecil Spring-Rice,

Mr. C. Lowry (Head of Tonbridge), Archdeacon
Burrows, Lord Curzon were among the boys who
were all Strongly under the influence of Mr. Oscar
Browning. Indeed I remember as a small boy
listening in the library to an animated discussion on
some political point between Lord Curzon and
Mr. J. Wallop; I was amazed and even Stupefied,
I recoiled, at their eloquence and the maturity of
their didion. . . . They talked about books and
politics and ideas simply because they were interested
and without any sense of superiority or any sacrifice
of livelier practical issues. They were, I think, the
palmy days of the literary society; but the resigna¬
tion of Mr. Oscar Browning had dealt a severe
blow to the intelledual life of the place for the
simple reason that it was natural to him to seek
the society of intelligent boys and to talk to them
on terms of equality about the things which
interested them. No one ever attempted the same
thing on the same scale or with the same Socratic
enthusiasm. He encouraged the shy boys to discuss
bigger ideas, he put books in their way, and best of
all he loved and practised leisurely talk.” Leisurely
talk—it is not in the atmosphere of a public school
that one imagines this as flourishing. School¬
masters always seem afraid of leisure for themselves,
let alone their boys. And how many of them only
talk freely on the subjed of games, a topic which
Browning, departing from his usual attitude of
equality towards his pupils, would not allow to be
discussed in his presence.

II

But a Socrates runs the risk of being suspeded
of impiety, nay, of worse. Tongues evidently
wagged at Eton about his views and his methods

58

A LETTER FROM WALTER PATER

with his boys. Fitzjames Stephen, the codifier of the
Indian penal laws, whose son, J. K. Stephen, was in
Oscar Browning’s house, writes him a hurried note
one evening. He had juft heard it Stated in some
London drawing-room that according to talk “ in
general society at Eton,” Browning had lent to a
boy a novel of Theophile Gautier’s, IS/Llle. de Maupin.
It was, Fitzjames Stephen observed, a book which
he had met with accidentally years before and was
“ nothing more than a mass of obscenity.” Would
Browning authorise him to contradidfc the rumour
at once? The matter was too serious to pass
uncontradidted even as gossip.

Oscar Browning was able to give the assurance
Stephen demanded. In another note Stephen says
that, though he does not wish to mention names, a
man called Pater, whom he does not know, was
reported as “ approving the supposed proceeding.”
To clear up the mystery, O. B., evidently with a
s mil e, sends Walter Pater the letters which have
passed between him and Stephen. “ My dear
Browning,” answers Pater, “ I was not at all amused
but much pained at the letters you enclose. You
heard all I said to Graham. I think it is not possible
that I mentioned the book in question. I should
gready disapprove its being lent to any boy or young
man, or even allowed in his way, and it would be
quite impossible for me to recommend it to any¬
body. I read it years ago but do not possess it.
Please give an unqualified denial to the Statement
that I approved anything of the kind. Such State¬
ments misrepresent and pain me profoundly. . . .
I remember that, the subjeft arising in the natural
course of conversation, I mentioned an innocent
sort of ghoSt Story by Gautier as a very good
specimen of its kind. I am sorry now that I did
so, as I can only suppose that the report in queSdon
arose in this way.”

59

OSCAR BROWNING

The myftery is Still unsolved when it is suddenly
elucidated by a lady. “ I have juSt heard,” she
writes to O. B., “ that I have quite unconsciously
been the cause of a mistaken report, and must let
you know on how very slight a foundation the
supposition grew that you lent books by Theophile
Gautier to your boys. Mr. Pater was commenting
upon the conversation in the boat the day after our
delightful water-party, and saying how remarkable
W. Graham’s acquaintance with French novelists
was, adding that when a boy of his years showed
any kind of literary taSte it was generally for poetry
of a common-place nature, such as Alfred Tenny¬
son’s ! This profane remark I repeated to Annie
Thackeray, mentioning also the names of Merimee
and Gautier, of whom you had talked with young
Graham. She was as much surprised and impressed
at the precocity of an Eton boy as Mr. Pater, and
it seems to have made so deep an impression on
her that she mentioned it to Leslie Stephen ! And
so this piece of Russian scandal grew. . . .” The
precocity of the youthful Student of French romantic
literature was unhappily never destined to flower,
for Graham died whilst Still a boy at Eton during
the summer holidays of 1875. But the Story,
besides going to show the intelledtual influence
Oscar Browning exercised over the boys with whom
he came into contact, proves how tongues wagged
and how heads were shaken.

in

There was also the question of religion. Oscar
Browning was one of those profoundly religious
natures which can see virtues in all the sedts, good
in all religions. After running the risk as a boy
of believing theology to be an attradfive Study, he
subsequently approached the mysteries of faith with

RELIGIOUS VIEWS

a reverent reserve, coupled with a prudent toleration
that enabled him in after life to become a Christian
Scientist whilst remaining within the fold of the
Church of England. But there were not wanting
those who looked askance at him for having an
unsettling effeft on his pupils in the matter of their
religious beliefs. “ I am told,” writes an old pupil.
Sir Stephen Spring-Rice, who had left Eton a year
or two before, “ that like Socrates you are accused
of ‘ impiety ’ (in intention accused, if not in
word). As to this I can only say that, though
we had many talks together in the last two years,
I am completely in the dark as to what your
own form of religion really is, so much so, that on
being told you were misleading the youthful mind
in theology I could only ask : In what direction ? ”
Nevertheless another pupil, Charles Devas, after¬
wards to become a distinguished Catholic writer.
Stood out as an example of his disturbing influence.
Devas was a poor classic, and at his tutor’s prompt¬
ing had read widely in history, including the whole
of the Decline and Dali. Gibbon, oddly enough,
had converted him to Catholicism. When he had
decided to seek admittance to the Church of Rome,
and before asking his parents’ consent, he informed
Oscar Browning, who said that he had so deep a
respeft for his chara&er that he was convinced he
could only do what was right. Devas was duly
received. Lord Lyttelton, who had been examining
for a history prize, writing to Oscar Browning
about him, says : “ I take it his general culture is
mainly due to you and Wayte and a few more
who lead the boys outside the school routine. I
understand Devas is now a Roman Catholic, which
I am sorry to hear.”

In fa£t Oscar Browning, far from leaving this
important part of a schoolmaster’s duty alone or
approaching it sceptically, took much pains in the

61

OSCAR BROWNING

religious inStru&ion it was his business to impart.
When he went to Eton he corresponded at length
with his friend, the learned and saintly Lightfoot,
who was to die as Bishop of Durham. Lightfoot
advises first of all the Greek Testament. “ I do
not think that divinity can be presented in any
form which Stimulates and interests both masters
and boys so much.” (What would the Bishop say
if he knew that Greek was no longer a necessary
Study in Theological Colleges ?) “ You can turn

from do&rinal teaching to verbal criticism and from
verbal criticism to history as you like and without
any unnatural interruption.” Of Paley, that now
discarded champion, Lightfoot speaks highly and
urges that the question of evidences “ should not be
shirked, since it often leads to an unnatural appetite
for such matters in later life.” For dogmatic
theology he recommends catechetical lessons on
the Creeds. This advice Oscar Browning followed
in the spirit, if not in the letter. In his diaries
there are references to the “ interesting talks ” he
had had with confirmation candidates on Sunday
evenings, when he often used to read a sermon to
his boys, or as an alternative sing with them psalms
and hymns.

IV

Life in Browning’s house was a pleasant com¬
bination of high thinking and good living. Artists
and men of letters, aftors and musicians, Ruskin
and Solomon, George Eliot and Walter Pater,
Dannreuther, the brilliant pianist who was the
friend of Wagner and leader of English Wagnerites,
Sullivan, Sir George Grove, were more or less
frequent visitors and brought with them the atmo¬
sphere of the intelligent and civilised society to
which Oscar Browning liked to think that he
belonged in spite of his being a schoolmaster.

HIGH THINKING AND GOOD LIVING

Theatricals used to be given by the boys in the
dining-room, which was so arranged that it could
be turned into a theatre for the occasion. Concerts
were held periodically on Saturdays at which pro¬
fessionals from London performed chamber music.
Both of these essays in the arts Hornby regarded
with the suspicion which attached to everything in
Browning’s, ultimately putting his veto on the
theatricals because they interfered, he said, with
the school plays. Once a week there was house
singing in Oscar Browning’s drawing-room. He
initiated inter-house competitions and presented a
cup to popularise house-singing. And there was a
house debating society to which boys of other houses
were admitted. Arundel prints hung on his walls.
Morris curtains framed the windows. Bronzes and
marbles and plaster casts, especially the fragile plaster
caSts, helped to inculcate sobriety of demeanour.
To play football in such corridors was as unthink¬
able as rough-housing in the corridors of the
Vatican. Amidst these surroundings, in the genial
warmth of the Pre-Raphaelite movement, the boys
lived and grew from boyhood to adolescence, from
adolescence to early manhood.

_ His house marked a definite Step in the humanisa¬
tion of the public schools. The little society over
which he presided was “ ruled by love rather than
by fear.” “ Good Lord, how that man frightens
me,” a Lower boy is said to have remarked once
of Warre. Browning never frightened anybody.
His kindness of heart would get the better even of
his dislike of Tap. “In July 1865,” writes Mr.
A. C. Trench, “ I had sculled up to Monkey Island,
and in running back to absence I had juSt time to
rush into Tap for a glass of beer. In going out I
ran into his arms. ‘ Come and see me to-morrow
morning.’ I went. ‘ I suppose you know the
penalty ? ’ he asked. * Yes,’ I replied, ‘ but I think

OSCAR BROWNING

it is very hard. I had been rowing for more than
two hours, and I had one small glass of beer for
which I shall be swished.’ ‘ You are quite right.
Go away and don’t run into a master again when
you come out.’ ”

Oscar Browning’s aim was to make his house
resemble the homes from which his pupils came.
Thus, he argued, he would obtain the Standard of
conduct and the moral tone which every right-
minded boy adopts unthinkingly when with his
parents and sisters. He may sometimes have been
deceived. He was more often justified. Here
again he roused jealousies. The way he fed his
boys was too luxurious, some of his colleagues
thought, whose object it was to save £20,000 by
their thrift and self-denial, virtues in which their
pupils had the privilege of sharing. Even fagging,
thanks to an unusually large Staff of servants, was
reduced to its lowest dimensions.

In such an unscholaStic setting did Oscar Brown¬
ing, helped by his mother, a beautiful and vivacious
woman, and by his sisters, attempt to mould the
characters of forty boys between the ages of thirteen
and nineteen. “ My host,” I quote again the
loquacious Professor Blackie, “ is a man of large
culture, liberal views and fine taste. His mother
is a woman of breadth, decision and management,
and his sister Malvina a genial, frank, laughing and
talking English girl.” Mrs. Browning had other
qualities besides these. She too loved conversation
not less than her son, and had a shattering power of
reducing to silence anyone whom she considered
to have taken a liberty. Every evening this grande
dame , who in her youth had been educated in the
fine arts by Old Crome, Cotman and Noverre,
presided alone at the boys’ supper-table and shed
the light of her wit and charm on the responsive
and generous mind of youth. No wonder that

64

HIS MORAL INFLUENCE

admission to his house was keenly sought and that
some parents adopted the till then unheard-of course
of entering their sons’ names at birth.

One can imagine how in such company and
amidst such surroundings clever boys took on the
maturity of which A. C. Benson has spoken, and
that few came under Oscar Browning’s influence
without being benefited. Nor did he confine him¬
self to his own pupils. Warre and Mitchell, he
argued, took up promising oars and cricketers; he
was bound to do the same thing for those interested
in intellectual pursuits. He thus drew into his
circle many of the leading boys in the school and
often its finest athletes. Neither Alfred Lyttelton
nor his brother Canon Edward Lyttelton was in
his house. But their letters to him show how
they valued his intimacy, how high they put his
moral influence in the school. If to come 'into
contact with him was to be taught to submit all
things to the light of rational inquiry, it was also
to be convinced that the principles of morality
were based upon the deepest Strata of human char¬
acter, on the control that springs from a well-
balanced mind. This was also realised by the more
far-sighted amongst his colleagues. Others had
less prescience, amongst them Hornby, who grew
more and more estranged from his remarkable
assistant and ever less aware of his contribution to
the life of the school. Dr. Hornby took the con¬
ventional view of schoolboy morals. Cases of
immorality, when brought to his notice, he punished
summarily. Otherwise he shut his eyes. Oscar
Browning, on the other hand, thought it his duty
to try and prevent such things happening, and
when he saw that boys were in trouble and wanted
advice and help, he gave them willingly. “ Dan¬
gerous confidences ” they seemed to Dr. Hornby.
It was undoubtedly the Head Master’s disapproval

F ' 6j

OSCAR BROWNING

of the methods that Oscar Browning followed in
his attempt to purify Eton which led to the break
between them.

The view that Oscar Browning took of his duties
and responsibilities, the way in which he treated
his pupils as friends and companions, was a new
thing in public school education. And he did not
confine himself to his own pupils. Father O. R.
Vassall-Phillips writes : “ I was not one of O. B.’s
pupils, but from the time that I was a small boy he
was very kind to me, and evidently took an interest
in the growth of my mind. When I was sixteen he
took me with him to Florence and Rome one winter
holidays. In many ways it was an epoch-making
event in my life. O. B. at the time had a very
considerable income, but at all times he found it
difficult to live within his means, whatever they
might be. We travelled en prince. We had a
courier to do everything for us, and of course
O. B. would only Stay in the most expensive hotels.
He knew everyone and took me to dinner-parties
with the moSt distinguished people. . . . O. B.
used to talk to me about everything and I became
the depository of certain moSt intimate secrets.
No doubt in many ways it must have been very
bad for me, but in others it was excellent. For
one thing at least I can never be sufficiently grateful
—it gave me my first love for the Catholic religion
as I saw it in Italy. On our return home O. B.
gave me two things, a free invitation (which I
knew that he meant me to accept) to breakfast
with himself, his mother and his sister whenever I
pleased, and the run of his library. The first was
a great boon on one side of one’s life. It was a
joy to slip out of the cold of an Eton morning
after early school into the warmth of the hospitable
house, where Mrs. Browning, the moSt dignified
old lady I have ever known, would ask me kindly

66

MIND v. BODY

what I would have to eat, sometimes remarking (I
remember) that there seemed an embarras de richesse,
as indeed there was. And all the time one listened
to O. B.’s amusing and sometimes exciting con¬
versation.”

V

Oscar Browning, despite his anti-athleticism, was
a Stalwart for all kinds of physical exercise. He
played football with his boys, undertook Homeric
excursions with them on the river—though he
always considered rowing as intellectually the most
degrading form of exercise—he ran with the Eton
beagles, and when he found time followed the
drag-hounds or the buck-hounds. He was one of
the earliest members of the Alpine Club. He toured
the roads of England and Europe on his tricycle.
His passion for swimming took him to the coldest
waters. The uninviting Stream of the Granta,
though March hardly gave promise of spring, used
to draw him to its chilly self when he was already
in the October of his age. But whilst he shared
games and exercise with the boys, he would not
direft them. That was to admit them to be a part
of the serious business of life, to mistake the frame
for the picture. “ Boys will always admire the
body. It is the duty of the schoolmaster to make
them admire the mind.” Schoolmasters often take
the easy course. Oscar Browning was obstinate
and refused to do so. It perhaps made him un¬
popular amongst the boys at large. His own pupils
appreciated his courage. One of them, who was
in the Eight and President of Pop for two years,
writes to him from Oxford about two fellow-
Etonians who had matriculated at Brasenose “ with
flying colours.” “ The Dons couldn’t withstand
their reputation for athletics. You have an enor-

67

OSCAR BROWNING

mous enemy in these sporting Colleges, and I don’t
think you will get Etonians to think properly about
‘ sapping ’ untfl you get some worthy gendemen
up here to show them that cricket and rowing and
idleness are not as safe a pass to a good College as
scholarship and industry.”

VI

They were indefatigable letter-writers at Eton
in the ’sixties and ’seventies. Supposed slights are
explained. Different points of view, which have
cropped up in conversation, are put on record.
The European Chancelleries could not have been
more punftilious in their aide-memoires . The Pro-
voSt corresponds with the Head Master, the Head
Master with the Assistant Masters, the Assistant
Masters with each other. Even the boys fall into
the same habit, catch the same rotund Style and
quote without self-consciousness the Latin or Greek
poets. Everybody’s pen flows with elegant ease,
and as one reads through the mass of correspond¬
ence which Oscar Browning received from others
at Eton during his fifteen years there as a master,
one appreciates the advantage of a classical educa¬
tion in giving a command of our native tongue.

“ Dear Browning, I am sorry to think my
behaviour yesterday was inconsistent with my pre¬
vious Statements to you. I do not think it was.
I was not annoyed at the expression as coming from
you. I think it a pity anything was said about it.
At the same time . . .” and the writer runs on the
fourth page explaining his attitude. Yet Eton
masters complained they were overworked. Or
Oscar Browning thinks that Warre has been rude
and writes to remonstrate. “ My dear Browning,”
runs the answer, “ I have in vain tried to find
anyone who thought my manner discourteous to

68

WARRE CRITICISES O. B.’S APOLOGIES

you this morning. I believe I was fully justified
in calling your attention to Gooding’s second
exercise. . . . You of all men ought not to be
offended in such a case, as you are so full of fault¬
finding with Eton and so ready to think we are
retrograde and do not require work enough from
the boys. Surely it would be well for one who is
fond of expressing opinions with reference to how
those much older than himself are conducting their
work not to be in dudgeon. This is not the first
case where your pupils have been pulled up by
me. . . . All I want is a friendly correspondence
about the matter. . . .” And he gets it.

On another occasion. Browning, smarting under
what he thinks is the desire of the “ authorities ”
to injure him for his reforming zeal, writes an
Apologia and sends it to Warre, who replies on
seven closely written sheets. “ The great difficulty
in treating with you on these points is that you
will not allow anyone’s account of himself to hold
as true if it contradicts your preconceived notions
and prejudices. This makes you impute wrong
motives to those who differ from you and often to
speak ill of others. At the same time you are so
satisfied with your own opinions as to make it
appear in voice and manner that you hold in con¬
tempt all who differ from you.” He goes on to
explain his “ definite and very diStinCf opinion ”
about athletics, which, he says, “ I have tried to
give an account of to you, but have found that
you would rarely give me a hearing.” He develops
his views and denies that they run counter to
Browning’s work for the improvement of Eton
education, or that he is animated by any feelings
of hostility towards him. “ I do not know whether
you include me as having tried to injure you. I
am not aware of having done so. If you can
point out anything in which I have I shall be happy

69

OSCAR BROWNING

to make all the amends in my power. ... I have
wanted you to see that the work I have done was
not in reality so antagonistic to you as you suppose,
but if you cannot do so, it can’t be helped. If
your objeCfc is, that as intellectual progress goes on,
and education improves and certain changes take
place in the direction to which you have pointed,
you should say to all beholders, ‘ I am the pro¬
tagonist and confessor of these opinions at Eton, I
have fought and suffered for them; to my agency
and to no other are they due,’ which is the inter¬
pretation which your letter, so proudly excluding
any working in concert, seems to postulate; why,

I say then, it is a pardonable vanity and one that
will be bettered by time, but Still unworthy of an
intellectual man.”

Some years later Warre writes, after they had had
a “ pleasant walk together ” : “ Reflecting on our
conversation of yesterday I see the difference
between us is a fundamental one. I prefer liberty
and think that fraternity is best preserved when
that liberty is respeCted and recognised by all, and
that equality though not seen at present will come
in the long run and cannot be established by enact¬
ment. You, on the other hand . . . There is one
other point. You said that Mitchell, and implied
that I, were not ‘ high-minded ’ men. ... I think
that a little hard on us. However, I hope that all
our conversations on this topic will be amicable.
... I certainly see your drift now, which I did
not know before.” Thus the two champions cor¬
respond and argue about fraternity and liberty
whilst talking impatiently with third parties about
each other’s failings.

They all pride themselves on their candour. “ I
will be quite open with you,” writes William
Johnson in 1869; “I should not have recom-

7 °

A CONTROVERSY WITH MARRIOTT

mended any boy to you if he was meant to be a
scholar. I perceived very soon after you came
here that, as I have told you before, you did not
throw yourself into what I call the school work.
I am in the habit of doing you justice. In College
affairs I have been your ally. I regret having
spoken harshly in your presence of Tames and
Walford.”

Sometimes a correspondence attains the dignity
of being circulated amongst the other masters. In
1862 a boy who was Browning’s pupil was trans¬
ferred from Marriott’s, a dame’s house, to his own.
W. B. Marriott, believing that the boy has been
filched by Oscar Browning, writes him a letter of
protest. It ends: “ I cannot help saying this much,
that considering the relations on which we have
hitherto Stood, I am a little surprised at your carrying
on negotiations as to the removal of boys from my
house without a word to me on the subj eft—and
that with regard to boys whose connection with
you arose from my recommendation.” Oscar
Browning explains. Marriott replies that he is glad
to find he has been mistaken. The usual four pages
ends with the opinion that a longer experience of
Eton would have led Browning to aCt somewhat
differently. Another letter that same evening insists
that three weeks’ notice is not enough for the
removal of a boy from his house. On the follow¬
ing day Marriott writes two more letters, making
four in two days. In the second he regrets that the
faCts as Mr. Devas (the parent) has explained them,
“ place the whole transaction in so painful a light
that I cannot but hope that they were really not as
I understood them from Mr. Devas to-day.” The
Head Master, W. Evans, and others intervene. The
correspondence lasts six months. Both sides draw
up a Statement. “ In this matter,” says Oscar

7i

OSCAR BROWNING

Browning with obvious enjoyment of the contro¬
versy, “ there are two questions at issue : the first
a public one, as to law or usage . . . the second
a private one, as to the influence I have exerted.”
He ends by declaring that he has followed the
plain course of duty. Under similar circumstances
he would aft in the same way again. Marriott’s
Memorandum runs to fourteen tabulated para¬
graphs. There are no quarrels so bitter as those
between eminently reasonable people.

At other times no principle is at issue. A master
writes to correft an impression “ which you have
had, and Still seem to have, that I allow certain
boys in my house to leave the dinner-table for the
purpose of going to the ‘ Tap ’ or the ‘ Cellar.’
Going to the ‘ Tap ’ is a thing of which I do not
approve.” . . . (Then in the true Eton Style he
slips from the particular to the general.) “ I think
you will find that when you have been fifteen years
here, as I have, the management of boys is the last
thing to be referred to any theoretical Standard or
code of rules, the disturbing causes and complica¬
tions are so endless.” ... Or it is a note from a
colleague, thanking him for his hint and saying
that he has summarily dismissed the two female
servants. He agrees with Browning that House
Masters cannot be too careful in shielding the boys
from this sort of temptation, though he always
tries to take care that the “ tempters shall be as
old and ugly as possible.” A similar case in another
house, where O. B. was also able to pass on certain
information about the charafter of one of the
sewing-maids, causes a correspondence of a dozen
letters, but happily ending in the removal of the
exciting cause of evil.

Occasionally the letters have the aftuality of a
news bulletin. The boys in Browning’s, true to the

72

FACTION FIGHTS

renaissance spirit, seem to have had a taste for the
faction fights that were so congenial to the men of the
quattrocento. Indulging this, they put Wolley-Dod’s
under fire. He protests in a letter which informs
their house master that shooting has been going on
from his windows. Oscar Browning’s intervention
appears to have been unsuccessful. A “second
note” States that “at 12.5 a shot was fired (with a
catapult or some such implement) from one of your
windows (no others command the place) which
Struck the woodwork of my drawing-room window.
My wife and a child were at the window and
heard it, both the twang and the bullet or shot
Stroke.” Still the hostilities continued. During
the afternoon O. B.’s boys succeed in breaking the
greenhouse with their “ missiles,” and Wolley-Dod
writes that his children are in such constant danger
that he can bear it no longer, and he has reported
the matter to the Head Master.

Nor are the pleasanter fields of social intercourse
negle&ed. “ Come and drown your differences
with Hornby in a Stoup of wine at the Ascham,”
says one master. Edmond Warre thanks him for
his very kind and beautiful present, which both he
and his wife hope will remain for a long time safe
and sound as a monument to the good taSte of the
donor. Or Mrs. Hornby, the Head Master’s wife,
writes to Mrs. Browning declining with regret the
invitation to a Saturday evening concert, and mis¬
spells a word in so doing, a serious solecism in
that academic and correct world. Mrs. Browning,
herself “ a fair woman without discretion,” keeps
it on her mantelpiece as a Museum specimen. A
narrow world indeed.

Yet Oscar Browning, however its narrowness
reminded him of his own baulked ambitions, looked
in imagination beyond the pupil-rooms and playing-

73

OSCAR BROWNING

fields of Eton to that England whose governing
class it educated. When disgusted ot disheartened,
he could pay homage to that future which his
sanguine radicalism regarded with reverence and
optimism.

74

CHAPTER V

OSCAR BROWNING AND HORNBY

I

At the end of 1867 the majestic Dr. Balston
resigned. He had preserved his dignity in the face
of reformers both within and without, and so long
as he remained he had been the beSt guarantee of
the “Old Eton” party that change would be as
gradual as the processes of nature. But public
opinion was uneasy, and ever since the publication
of the Royal Commission’s Report it had been
clear that his days were numbered. Lord Lyttel¬
ton in a letter that year to Oscar Browning says
that he does not suppose Dr. Balston will remain
Head Master much longer. If he had to resign,
however, the “ Old Eton ” party amongst the
Fellows was determined that his successor should
be a safe man and that the “ Young Eton ” party
amongst the Masters, many of whom had given
awkward evidence before the Commissioners,
should be kept in its place. None of them at any
rate need hope to be promoted to the Head Master¬
ship. If the idea had ever occurred to Oscar
Browning he put it aside, as he had done five years
before when Dr. Balston had succeeded Dr. Good-
ford. Yet in such a matter, which, as The Times
observed, was of national concern, it was his duty
to pull Strings. He himself favoured Bradley,
then Master of Marlborough. When rumours that
the regime of Dr. Balston was nearing its end gained

75

OSCAR BROWNING

Strength and probability he approached Bradley in¬
directly. The reply was non-committal. Dr. Bradley
had doubts of his ability to overcome the innate con¬
servatism in which “ the ProvoSt and Fellows were
at one with the boys.” Besides, with the modesty
of the scholar over whose text-book on the com¬
position of Latin prose many generations of English
schoolboys have groaned, he said that he could not
write Latin verse. Admittedly Eton was a nobler
position than Marlborough. But he preferred to
remain in a humbler sphere, where he had every
reason to suppose that he was succeeding, rather
than move to another where success would be
“ dubious or improbable.” Finally, he recom¬
mended them to sound Benson. Dr. Bradley’s
answer shows at any rate that he appreciated the
Strength of the Conservative tradition at Eton.

Browning and others might sound whom they
pleased. Dr. Goodford and the Fellows had no
intention of allowing their hands to be forced.
Dr. BalSton would resign. That was understood.
But his resignation would be placed in the hands
of the ProvoSt, and this would not be published to
the world with any indecent haSte. Oscar Brown¬
ing was in touch with the Pa// Mai/ Gazette, and
that newspaper, which was nonplussed at Hornby’s
ele&ion, criticised the suddenness with which the
vacancy had been filled. The Guardian replied that
Dr. BalSton had given the Statutable notice to the
ProvoSt, who had a perfed right to keep the matter
to himself if he pleased. As a matter of fad the
appointment was exceedingly aStute. James John
Hornby, to give him his full name, came from
Winchester, where he had been Second Master,
with good credentials. He was a scholar and a
man of the world, he had been a distinguished
athlete, and through his father’s mother, who had
been a Stanley, he was related to Lord Derby.

76

DR. HORNBY COMES TO ETON

He was said to be a Liberal. The break with the
paSt was indicated by his having been an Oppidan
and that he was an Oxford and not a Cambridge,
or rather a King’s, man, for previous Head Masters
had been Collegers and King’s-men. Everyone
was pleased. “ No other choice,” said The Tims,
“ would have commanded alike the confidence of
Etonians and public school reformers.” “ Our
new Head Master,” Oscar Browning wrote to his
friend Sidgwick a few days after the beginning of
Hornby’s first half, “ promises to be a great success.
We shall now be governed on the principles that
universally obtain in human society.” The only
alarm that Dr. Hornby’s advent caused was in the
breaSts of Eton boys. What could change mean
but more work? And what Etonian worth his
salt was not ready to resist this with all the dogged¬
ness of the Anglo-Saxon character ? The new
Head Master was from the first warned that Eton
was a law unto itself. He was greeted with writing
on the wall that Eton meant to remain Eton. “ No
Reform ” was the cry that ran through the school
and was chalked on the very doors.

The next two or three years determined, if not
the future of England, at least that of Oscar Brown¬
ing. At first he and Dr. Hornby get on well
together. Modern languages, history, science, the
despised geography, were given a place in the
regular school work. O. B.’s own tastes were
exactly suited in his being put in charge of the
history teaching. Dr. Hornby even agrees with
him that athletics at Eton “ are no doubt practised
to excess,” though claiming that rowing is a fine
training for the charafter as well as for the body.
With Fourth of June processions and champagne

77

OSCAR BROWNING

drinking he has no sympathy. But when Oscar
Browning, disapproving of the training for Henley,
wishes to put a Stop to the Eight rowing at that
regatta. Dr. Hornby confesses that to him it seems
“ almost an unmixed good,” and he dreads the
time when it is over, unless other races can be
Started. Still the Head Master “ is very much
obliged ” for his letters and is very glad “ to have
an expression of his opinion on every matter
affefting the interests of the school.” He even
welcomes his advice on appointments to the Staff.

And whilst Warre is opposed to Hornby’s reforms
in the teaching of classics, Oscar Browning supports
the Head Master. “ My dear Browning,” he writes
to him in February, 1870, “ many thanks for your
very kind letter. Warre’s pamphlet does not trouble
me at all, for I think it is quite easy to show that it
rests on unfounded assumptions of all sorts from
beginning to end. . . . There are endless points
which I feel inclined to challenge or contradift.
Indeed I think it very unfair, though unintentionally
so, and very shallow.”

If, however, Oscar Browning thought that he was
to be Hornby’s chief lieutenant he was not long in
being undeceived. They were too unlike in
character and differed too widely in their ideas
ever to have worked together harmoniously.
Hornby believed in the value of exa£t scholarship.
For him the classics were an intelleftual training-
ground rather than a door through which a boy
entered on the inheritance of European culture.
Madvig’s Latin Grammar he held in particular to
be a sovereign discipline for young minds. And
Oscar Browning disliked Madvig. After a while
too there cropped up the difference in their attitude
towards the moral problems which inevitably occur
where nature’s balance of the sexes is disturbed.
Their differences were not to be bridged by the zeal

78

OSCAR BROWNING, AETAT 31

After a drawing by Simeon Solomon

DIFFERENCES BEGIN TO ARISE

with which Browning urged his views or by the
lucidity of Hornby’s replies. Those views em¬
braced all subj efts, not leaft the shortcomings of
colleagues. “You seem to me,” observed Dr.
Hornby after one correspondence, “ to show a
disposition to go beyond your own sphere of duties
rather gratuitously and to criticise others more
severely than you criticise yourself.” What if all
the forty-four assistants wrote him long letters on
every conceivable subjeft? He would have to
leave them “ unread” with the characteristic two
lines underneath it. On one point they agreed—
that the Chapel choir ought to be composed of
boys in the school. Even here there was a rift.
For Hornby was pleased that the Captain of the
Boats interested himself in collecting volunteers,
whilst Browning thought that this was bending
the knee to athletics. Hornby thereupon twits
him on his admiration for Harrow. “ I think,”
he writes, “ some of our friends elsewhere (at
Rugby pre-eminently) live in a regular fool’s
paradise with regard to boys’ notions on these
points. I believe at the moment the one point in
which we could not certainly beat Rugby, and per¬
haps Harrow, is ‘ cricket .’ ” (In the inverted
commas one can deteft something of the spiritual
pride of the rowing man.) He adds : “ I hold
athletics to be in excess everywhere in our great
schools, but not more so at Eton than elsewhere.”

Then Hornby began to be critical. Like Warre
he had been a famous oar. Both disliked the idea
of using the river for mere pleasure. “ It is not
everyone who is so fond of water-parties,” is a
remark in one of Hornby’s letters. The Watteau-
esque atmosphere of water-parties, at which the
boys joined with elegant women and the con¬
versation was adorned by the elegant mind of
Walter Pater, was not the sort of thing Hornby

79

OSCAR BROWNING

looked upon as coming within the fout comers of
a public-school education. Sometimes the doubts
are more openly expressed. “ Certain verses might
be looked over more carefully,” Hornby writes on
one occasion. When Browning replies that if the
Head Master has any complaints to make he hopes
he will do so unreservedly, Hornby says “ that he
will listen to no more idle tales.” The “ idle tales,”
however, seem to have persisted. Oscar Browning
criticised others. He could hardly expect to be
treated differently himself. And his wide interests
gave such stories probability. He was admittedly
not pre-eminent at his work in school, though he
managed his Division with at least a modicum of
success. But how could he attend to it properly,
his critics argued, when he was so much occupied
with other things ? Did he not go frequendy to
concerts and private views in London, and to the
opera during the season ? Did he not examine for
the Cambridge Local Examinations ? Did he not
help the School of Art and Design which had lately
been Started in Windsor, and lecture to ladies on
Italian literature ? Then there were the meetings
of the “ U. U.” and George Eliot’s salon on Sunday
afternoons in Regent’s Park, and political interests
and the magnet of London’s social life. . . .

Ill

Oscar Browning was not the sort of man to
submit tamely or discreetiy to those who did not
appreciate him. Yet when it came to the point he
was ready to take die lead in supporting his dis¬
approving chief. At the end of the summer half
of 1873 there was a question of increasing the
boarding fees. The price of living had risen but
the charges to parents had remained the same.
The masters had urged the Governing Body to

80

DR. HORNBY CENSURED

raise these fees and had met with a refusal. In
spite of this a circular was sent out to the parents,
on the authority of the Head Master, pointing out
the fails of the case and suggesting that an additional
charge of £4 a term should be made to meet the
increased cost of living. To the astonishment of
everybody, this apparently reasonable proposal
raised a controversy in the papers—it was in the
dull month of August—and The Times published
letters showing parental indignation that such a
Step should have been taken without the sanition
of the Governing Body. The Governing Body
thereupon censured the Head Master for his share
in the matter, though they allowed an increased
charge of £6 a year to commence in the following
half.

Hornby’s position was naturally shaken by the
action of the Governing Body, and the World
declared that “ it seemed scarcely possible for him
as a gentleman to retain his post.” The masters
met and intimated to him that he should reply to
this censure. Hornby answered that he would do
so if they would back him againSt the constant
interference of the ProvoSt. Oscar Browning,
who, it may be said, had disapproved of the wording
of the original circular and had only joined with his
colleagues in order to secure united action, was
prominent in the party which supported the Head
Master. He drew up a Draft Memorial which
Homby acknowledged: “ Many thanks for your
paper, which, I think, is very valuable, and would
do great good to us, and perhaps through us to.
many other schools, especially if it came soon.”
The draft was afterwards amended. It offered
sympathy and promised support in maintaining a
position without which it could not be expefted
that the Head Master of a great public school could
be “ either efficient or successful.” “ My dear
g 81

OSCAR BROWNING

Browning,” he writes in reply, “ I like the altera¬
tion in your draft of a memorial and think it an
improvement. I wish the masters would sign the
document as it Stands, but of course in so large a
body it is very difficult to find complete agreement.
I trust that your draft will not be materially altered.
Still less suppressed, even though some should
refuse to' sign it.” As usual the masters found it
difficult to agree. But if the Head Master did
not get full support from the Staff, it was not on
this occasion Oscar Browning’s fault. The incident
is in any case interesting as showing a certain
magnanimity on the side of Hornby’s Assistant-
Master.

IV

But the Head Master could never get it out of his
head that Oscar Browning, who was paid to teach
classics, was slack in his Division work, and so far as
classics went slack even in pupil-room. And O. B.
did not disguise his opinion that it was a waste of
time for boys with no pronounced classical bent to
write Latin verses, an occupation that took much of
the time of his Division. He was suspeffc too
about “ saying lessons,” and he would not use
Madvig. So Hornby one day sends round for the
exercises of the various Divisions to be colle&ed,
and returns Browning’s with the comment that
“ apparently none of them had been corrected.”
“ True, but they would have been if you had not
taken them away,” was the answer, on which Dr.
Hornby observed that he had adopted the plan
in order “ to catch him out.” In the summer half
of 1873 there was an outburst over the “ saying
lessons.” Oscar Browning had made the boys
write out what they had learnt, and Hornby re¬
garded this not as an “ educational experiment,”
but as a method of saving trouble for the master.

82

FURTHER QUARRELS

The usual correspondence ensued. O. B. pointed
out that the plan was a perfe&ly well-known one,
being indeed a favourite method of Dr. Martin, the
Warden of Radley, to ensure boys getting Horace
and Virgil by heart in the “ most accurate and per¬
manent form.” The storm subsides rather from
the exhaustion of the parties concerned than from
their having reached agreement.

Another time Hornby cites a complaint, which
rumour afterwards States comes from none other
than the ProvoSt (“ it is,” says Hornby, “ the first
complaint I have ever had from a parent ”), that the
discipline in Mr. Browning’s Division was so bad
that the boys could learn nothing—Dr. Hornby,
by the way, was himself a wretched disciplinarian.
Oscar Browning thereupon procured testimonials
from six of the tutors of boys in his Division testify¬
ing to the efficiency of his teaching. But before he
had received this the Head Master had modulated
into another key and come as near making an apology
as a Head Master may in corresponding with an
assistant. The testimonials he burnt, and told one
of the writers that they meant nothing, receiving
the answer : “ Mine meant a great deal.”

Dr. Hornby too was by no means happy about
the history teaching. Oscar Browning, he thought,
chose periods much too near our own time, the
French Revolution, or the reigns of Queen Anne or
George III. Oscar Browning liked these because
they contained the germs of the controversies that
were agitating the mid-Victorian era. Was he not
educating the future Statesmen of England and
training them to weigh principles and movements
in the fine balance of the human reason ? This
was not Dr. Hornby’s idea of the educational
function of history. He was one of those who
liked their history taken from the cold Storage of
the remote past. He wished the boys to read about

83

OSCAR BROWNING

the Norman kings, the feudal system, or, better
Still, “ the great revolutions of Asia.” O. B.,
whose ambition it was to train men of affairs,
chafed and protested. Luckily he had success to
argue for him. The history teaching at Eton was
admittedly amongst the best in England. The
University examiners extolled it; other schools
recognised its superiority. Farrar writes to him
from Marlborough: “ If you could spare the time.
I should be very grateful to know what method you
adopt with your history class.” Bowen asks him
to lefture to the Sixth Form at Harrow. Hornby
alone was sceptical. He thought that O. B. was
using history as a stalking-horse for his radicalism,
or that he was chosing modern periods because they
were easier to teach. So although he has no doubt
that Mill’s 'Representative Government “ is an able
book,” he withholds judgment on its suitability as
a foundation on which to lefture till he has had time
to read it. This Laodicean attitude occasionally
warms into open hostility. He regrets to see “ any
of the best boys of Division A join the history
class.” He writes to point out that history
teaching must be given without prejudice to the
classical teaching. “ The classical teaching is the
first thing to be considered in the case of classical
masters, who are engaged to teach that and paid for
that. If anything besides can be done in the way of
History, Geography, Modern Languages, English
Literature, etc., so much the better; but they must
not be pleaded as a ground for diminishing classical
Study in any way.”

V

Either consumed by his own mistrust, or prompted
by others, one knows not which. Dr. Hornby
nursed the idea of appointing a special master to

84

WHAT A. C. AINGER THOUGHT

teach history, and thus of taking away from Oscar
Browning the thing which interested him most,
the thing too which he taught with most success.
The report of the Head Master’s intentions became
current at Eton and produced rather a remarkable
letter from A. C. Ainger. “ A rumour has reached
us,” he writes to Hornby, “ that you intend to
make a change in the history teaching by appointing
a special master for the purpose of what has hitherto
been done by Browning. Such a master would be
either up to the Standard of an Oxford history
professor, or he would be a young man who had
taken a good degree in the school. In the former
case we should get more than we want in a place
like this without any great increase in the efficiency
of the teaching: in the latter it would be most
improbable that the teacher would approach the
present teacher either in historical attainments,
power of imparting knowledge, or influence over
the boys forming the class. This seems so obvious
to very many of us who have had pupils in Brown¬
ing’s history class, and have been acquainted with the
results of it, that we cannot be surprised that he
should feel seriously hurt at the prosped of such a
supersession. Possibly as compared with a Bryce
or a Freeman, Browning’s knowledge may be
pronounced superficial, but in that or in almost
any other literary subjed it would be difficult for
his habitual critics to substantiate any such charge.
For my own part I think he is one of the most
cultivated men I ever met, and I cannot compre¬
hend the charge of shallowness so often brought
against him. His undertaking the history teaching
was an ad of voluntary patriotism at a time when
it was very much needed. This should entitle it
to a somewhat tender consideration even if it had
been a failure. Whereas, on the contrary, nothing
of late years has been more successful.”

*5

OSCAR BROWNING

It is not often that one Assistant Master is
prompted to write to his chief about a colleague in
such terms. Then Ainger goes on to speak Still
more boldly. “ But behind all this I for one (and
I believe many others, but I have no right to speak
except for myself) am conscious of a painful feeling
at anything which seems to cast a slight on Browning
or to lessen his influence. It is, of course, a matter
on which opinions may differ, but I do not think
you can be aware how many of us feel that more than
anything else we owe to Browning’s exertions in his
own house and pupil-room and in the school
generally a very large proportion of any improve¬
ment which may have taken place at Eton in the
last ten years. . . . Our Standard in morals, in
intellectual pursuits, in everything except athletics,
is Still miserably low—how low no one can know
who is not in daily contact with the frivolity and
carelessness about all serious matters which is the
prevailing tone.” (Hornby was notoriously aloof
from the life and ignorant of the routine of the
school.) “ But whatever protest has been made
against this muscle worship, whatever effort has
been made to promote culture and industry and
thereby improve morals, Browning has taken a
leading part in ever since I have known Eton as a
master. Again, you came here at a time when
changes had to be introduced, and everyone in the
place was ready to find fault with them whatever
they were. During all this time Browning was your
most loyal supporter, much more loyal than many
who have always enjoyed a larger share of your
confidence. This is so well known to us that we
can hardly understand its not being known to you.”

Ainger does not end without something more than
an insinuation against Hornby’s habit of listening to
the “ titde-tattle ” which was endemic at Eton.
“We younger masters here . . . feel that we

86

UNCOMPLIMENTARY REMARKS

cannot do better than follow the example Browning
has set us, and which I hope he may long continue
to set, for he is by far your most valuable assistant
... I am well aware that the pifture I have drawn
may differ from that which some of us would draw,
especially as I know from personal experience some
of the older men. It is possible, though I have no
right to say so, that you hold their views and have
been in some degree influenced by them.”

A letter like this, written, of course, without
Oscar Browning’s knowledge, throws a good deal of
light on the cabals at Eton and Hornby’s inability
to stop them. How much effedt it had is indicated
by the fadt that Hornby informed him a few weeks
later that he had written to Oxford with the intention
of getting someone to teach, history in his place.
O. B. replied that this was treating him in cavalier
fashion, and that if the projedt were carried through
he should probably leave Eton. The Head Master
made “various uncomplimentary remarks,” but
gave up his plan on the representations of a large
number of the masters. The following half we
find Oscar Browning, as already related, taking the
lead in supporting Hornby against the ProvoSt
and the Governing Body. Quixotry could hardly
go further. But O. B. the man, as distinguished
from the boy, was always an optimist. “ I always
look at the best side of things and avert my mind
from the worst,” he writes nearly fifty years after
the events here recorded. He seems adtually to
have hoped to convert Hornby to the merits of his
history teaching. The Head Master had withdrawn
sulkily. His dislike of Queen Anne and the French
Revolution was no less than before; his mistrust of
Oscar Browning rather greater.

Oscar Browning would have done well to let
sleeping dogs lie. To himself, however, his own
merits were so obvious that he could never under-

87

OSCAR BROWNING

Stand others failing to appreciate them, and being a
philosophic Radical with a profound belief in the
goodness of human nature, he attributed Dr.
Hornby’s opposition to misunderstanding. So when
Dr. Benson, later to become Archbishop of Canter¬
bury, who had been examining for the Newcastle,
said in the course of a speech that one of the candi¬
dates, also afterwards to be episcopated, owed his
place to his history, Oscar Browning writes to
Hornby to point out that here was a proof that
history did not interfere with classics, since on Dr.
Benson’s own showing it had assisted a boy to
translate Thucydides. The Head Master begins
his reply ominously: “ I would gladly pass your
letter by in silence, but I feel that I ought to
protest most Strongly against it. . . . That a
clever, well-trained Colleger should distinguish
himself in your history class is not surprising.
But to turn the matter round and say that the
history class produced the clever Colleger is too
monstrous. ... I will not speak now about your
history teaching, but I hope you will allow me
to say really as a friend that you do not know the
disadvantageous impression which you produce
on examiners and other clever men who come
here, by these efforts to advertise your claim.”
The. recipient of this very candid letter sent it on
to his friend and counsellor on the Governing Body,
John Hibbert, asking whether it was the sort of
communication a subordinate should receive from
his chief. Hibbert sympathised but could do
nothing.

In the face of Hornby’s hardly veiled hostility it
is remarkable that Oscar Browning had not already
resigned before the relations between himself and
the Head Master could have produced such a
contemptuous letter as this. Henry Sidgwick was
anxious that he should return to Cambridge to help

THOUGHTS OF RESIGNATION

develop the nascent history school there, and had
proposed that he should be offered a fellowship at
Trinity. There was a task to his hand amidst
friends and congenial surroundings. Various
reasons, however, weighed with him. To leave
Eton would be to desert the cause for which he
had been fighting for fifteen years, to hand over the
citadel of English secondary education to the
Philistines, to abandon the party he was leading,
to sacrifice all the efforts he had made for a purer
morality, a truer sense of the values of life. There
was his mother too, an old lady, who, if he went to
Cambridge, would be ill provided for—as he himself
would also be. And there were the afhaal boys in
the school who relied upon his influence. Could
he in justice desert them? More than once he
thought of resigning, but he always found reason
to put the thought aside. Besides, if it came to an
open battle with Hornby, there was always the chance
that it might be the Head Master and not Oscar
Browning who would have to leave.

89

CHAPTER VI
‘the lie’

If Oscar Browning had determined to leave the
onus of dismissing him on the Head Master, Horn¬
by, eighteen months before his explosion about the
history teaching, had already held the threat of
dismissal over O. B.’s head, a threat which had
caused that former protagonist in favour of in¬
creasing the powers of Head Masters to try and
persuade his friends in Parliament to draft a bill
amending the Public Schools Aft of 1868. He
corresponds with G. O. Trevelyan and others on
the subjeft. Ironically enough, the trouble in
this case between Hornby and O. B. arose out of
the proposal to increase the boarding fees, which
had brought Oscar Browning forward as the Head
Master’s champion amongst what William Johnson
called “ the obscure mob of assistants.” The con¬
troversy is interesting from its mere pettiness.
Oscar Browning had disapproved of the wording
of the masters’ original circular. It was certainly
a flabby, inconclusive document. It pointed out
that “ it was necessary to reduce the scale of com¬
fort in which the boys lived or to increase the cost
to the parents.” Then it asked the parents to say
what they wanted. The question was obviously
absurd. Supposing, as was probable, that some
agreed to pay more and others would not do so.
What was to be done then ? Oscar Browning,
therefore, whilst falling into line with his colleagues,
took the view that the circular intimated a definite

90

RAISING THE BOARDING FEES

intention to raise the boarding fees by £4 a term.
And in September he sent out another circular to
the parents of his boys, emphasising the reasons
and the necessity for the charge. The answers he
received speak well by contrast with those which
other parents of Etonians had written to The Times.
Sir William Gull, the famous physician, thinks it
perfectly fair and “ regrets the tone ” in the papers
on this matter. Lord Portsmouth says that “ his
decided opinion is, that the weak point of the
boarding at all public schools, is that the boys’
breakfasts are insufficient.” He adds : “ I know
that I am addressing one whose House is famous
for boarding the boys moB liberally. ... I do not
think this is a question for the Governing Body.
I think it would be placing them in a position over
your heads of boarding houses which would be
moSt unpleasant. They would be like the Poor
Law Board prescribing the dietary in a work-
house.”

So too thought Oscar Browning. He was, as
it happened, quite wrong. Under the new Statutes
the Governing Body alone had authority to alter
the scale of fees. The latitude of the old regime
was a thing of the past. After all he might have
remembered that one cannot have it both ways.
He had wanted changes. If the new Eton was not
what he had hoped for, and if the Governing Body
had a£ted in this matter with their customary
Stupidity, Still they had many more rules and
regulations than before. “ Progress in public
school education,” he had written to Sidgwick,
“ can only come through attention to detail.”
This meant organisation, and organisation meant
rules and regulations. However, he had Said
that he intended to make the additional charge, and,
with what one of the papers afterwards characterised
as “ undue zeal for the petty emoluments of his

91

OSCAR BROWNING

position,” he duly made it. When he sent out his
bills in December he enclosed an explanation
defending the increase. “ The arrangement,” he
said, “proposed by the Governing Body is not
considered by us as final or satisfactory. We have
protected against it, and it is not certain that it will
ever be carried out: under the circumstances I
thought myself justified in complying with the
wishes of parents by securing myself against a loss
which I have borne too long. At the same time it
muSt be understood that the extra charge made by
me for board is entirely unauthorised, and can only
be regarded as a private arrangement between the
parent and myself.”

After his bills had been sent out a bundle of
circulars arrived from the Head Master explaining
the new scale of charges sanctioned by the Govern¬
ing Body. They were meant to accompany the
school bills, but there were no definite instructions,
apparently, about this, and in Oscar Browning’s
case the bills had already been posted. The
circulars of the Head Master accordingly remained
in his Study whilst he went abroad and forgot about
the trivialities of Eton routine in the delights of
Florence and Rome.

When he returned the circulars were Still there.
Though this for the moment was not realised by
the ProvoSt, it was evident that Oscar Browning
had put himself in a situation from which there was
no escape except by retreat. The Governing Body
asserted its rights most emphatically and Hornby
passed on its admonitions to his assistant. Brown¬
ing gave an assurance that for the future he would
make no more unauthorised charges. In reply the
Head Master thanked him and observed that it
relieves him from all anxiety about the future. All
seemed to be well. And Hornby in asserting the
authority of the Governing Body had taken the

92

DR. HORNBY IS ANGRY

opportunity to refer again to the discontinuance
of the “ saying lessons ”—Still rather a sore subject
—whilst the ProvoSt had concluded his letter to
Hornby with the observation that “ the Governing
Body forbore to make any remark on the Style and
tone which Mr. Browning had thought fit to adopt.”
MoSt decidedly Oscar Browning had been badly
snubbed. He was unconscious of the fa£t and
wrote to the Governing Body expressing sorrow
for any language that had been taken exception to.
Certain letters, he supposed, “ which could not
have come into their hands without a breach of
confidence,” had been shown to them.

This barely veiled reference to the Head Master,
which the ProvoSt naturally did not keep to himself,
made Hornby extremely angry. A letter of four
foolscap pages was its fruits, a letter with so many
words underlined and doubly underlined that it
might have been the protest of a jilted swain rather
than a solemn indi&ment by a grave pedagogue
whose emoluments were equal to three average
deaneries. Hornby was angry. Angry that he
had been accused of a breach of confidence, but
angrier Still that in the four days’ interval which
had elapsed since the incident had been closed, a
newpiece of evidence had come to lightwhich showed
that Oscar Browning was a man whose word could
not be trusted, a man capable of telling a lie. Since
the lie motif recurs later it must be briefly annotated.

What had happened was this. The circulars
were Still in Oscar Browning’s Study when he
heard one morning that the ProvoSt was extremely
annoyed that all the masters had not sent them out.
Accordingly, he posted them at once. That same
evening an open letter came round from the Head
Master. This contained two questions : “ Have
the circulars been sent ? ” “ Were they sent with

the bills ? ” “ Without a thought,” O. B. related

93

OSCAR BROWNING

afterwards in a Statement to the Governing Body,
“ I signed my initials below the answers already
given to the question by other masters, and after
them the words, ‘ Yes, but not with the bills ! ”

Hornby used this to give the coup de grace. “ I
could not conceive, no honeSt man could conceive,
that you had suppressed my notice till that very
morning, and that when you wrote Yes (twice under¬
lined) you knew that the notice had only juSt been
posted and that it could not have reached any parent
whose complaints might have caused the ProvoSt
to institute this inquiry.” And he ends with what
amounts to a provisional dismissal, though he says
that he will take no further Step until Browning
has had the opportunity of speaking in his own
defence. On refledtion Hornby must have decided
not to push matters to extremes. For he gave
Browning the choice between resignation or re¬
calling his previous letter of apology to the Govern¬
ing Body. Oscar Browning therefore wrote to
the ProvoSt asking him not to present his letter,
only to be told that it had already been presented.
Yet when he inquired of Spencer Walpole, the
ex-Home Secretary, whose sensitiveness had been
shown by his weeping before a deputation in
connexion with the Hyde Park riots of 1866,
that gentleman assured him that so far as he
knew no member of the Governing Body had
ever accused him of dishonesty or proclaimed any
feeling of diminished respedfc for him. Two other
members. Lord Lyttelton and John Hibbert,
answered in the same Strain.

In a controversy of this kind casuistry is never
far to seek. If Oscar Browning’s reply, which
moved Dr. Hornby to such righteous indignation,
lacked the complete candour which should invest
every answer that a man of honour may be called
on to give in life, neither perhaps can Dr. Goodford

94

CANDOUR AND CASUISTRY

or Dr. Hornby be said to have been perfectly frank.
Much play, for instance, is made in the Head Master’s
letter of a “ serious complaint made by a parent.”
This was with reference to a charge of £10 for
furniture which Oscar Browning made to all boys
entering his house. It was a practice he had begun
under the old regime, when house masters made
very much their own terms with parents and con¬
tinued subsequently, though it had never been
authorised by the Governing Body. Dr. Good-
ford, learning that Oscar Browning was making this
charge, had written to the parents of one of the
boys to inquire. The parent, who was perfe&ly
satisfied with the arrangement, gave the information
asked for. Upon this so-called serious complaint the
ProvoSt and Head Master had afted. Those who
emerge most creditably indeed from this particular
controversy are the parents, who, as their answers
to his circulars show, fully appreciated the care he
lavished on his pupils and were ready to support
him in his contention that it was impossible to
board the boys properly without an additional
charge. Their cordiality and friendliness are in
contrast to the suspicious attitude of the ProvoSt,
the ill-considered nonchalance of O. B. and the
rather silly moralising of Dr. Hornby.

95

CHAPTER VII

THE CURZON AFFAIR

I

If Oscar Browning meant to Stay on at Eton,
his friends warned him that he had better keep
quiet. But he could no more help putting him¬
self forward than a sunflower can help pointing
to the sun. His “ swallow flights,” as William
Johnson called them, were a very part of his
being. Though he might annoy the ProvoSt and
the Head Master and the Eton Conservatives
generally, he could not refrain from tilting at
abuses. Edward Hale, another master, writing to
him some months after the events recorded in the
last chapter, reminds him how on three separate
occasions recently he has neglefted his advice to
keep in the background. “After your speech at
the masters’ meeting, when you condemned the
want of support given to masters in maintaining
discipline—also when the Head Master proposed
to bring Creighton here to take your place as a
history teacher, and when your proposed re-rating
college property and inquiring into parochial
churches. I told you, not for your own sake
only, but for your mother’s, to cease for a time
acting as reformer, because such a Step must bring
you into collision with the authorities, who did
not always like being rubbed up the wrong way.”

THE LAX MORALS OF ETON

II

Re-rating college property, inquiring into paro¬
chial churches, discipline in school, even the
teaching of history, important as these might be,
were as nothing, however, compared with the
great central idea of education, which was the
inculcation of a pure morality amongst the nine
hundred or so boys thrown together into the
vortex of Eton. And it was on this very point,
the most vital and the moSt delicate of all, that
Oscar Browning was next to come into conflict
with Hornby.

The State of morals at Eton was far from satis¬
factory. There was abundant evidence that the
vice which called down the judgment of Heaven
on the cities of the plain did not excite that repug¬
nance of public opinion amongst the boys which
it should in any healthy society. Immorality was
discussed under the name of “ spooning,” and
though, of course, detected cases were summarily
punished, the culprits were not viewed, it was
thought by the reformers, with the reprobation
which was shown under analogous circumstances
at other public schools. A party amongst the
masters, searching for the reason of this laxity,
attributed it to the secrecy with which such matters
had been treated, and determined, as far as they
were concerned, to adopt different measures.
Oscar Browning had long laboured for this end,
and his own house was generally considered to
be, in this respeCfc, one of the best at Eton. Now
under his influence the work was to be carried on
more intensively. Those masters who agreed with
him in the way the evil should be eradicated, or at
least kept within bounds, drew up a set of rules
for their own guidance; cases of detected immor-
h 97

OSCAR BROWNING

ality were to be thoroughly investigated. All
such cases were to be reported to the Head Master,
though not necessarily with names, and they were
also to be reported to the other masters. Thus it
was hoped the Standard of morals would be raised
and Eton become worthy of its illustrious place at
the head of English public schools.

These proposals excited fierce resentment. Many
of the Assistant Masters looked upon them as the
result of a conspiracy to carry on a general espion¬
age. The boys, or a large proportion of them, shared
these sentiments, and one of Oscar Browning’s
pupils, who had exposed a scandal and been hooted
and mobbed for his pains, was held up as typical
of the effects of such a system. Oscar Browning
himself was believed to invite confidences from
boys in a spirit which was quite alien to the Sturdy
independence of the public school atmosphere.
Fitzjames Stephen, afterwards the well-known
judge, than whom no mid-Vi&orian worthy was
a Sterner censor of morals, followed his efforts
with sympathy and encouragement. Another
distinguished Etonian has left on record some
account of how Oscar Browning proceeded in
these matters. Far from being anxious to extract
confidences from boys, we are told that he never
held any conversation upon “ esoteric anthro¬
pology,” or any matter connected with vice, in the
school unless he saw clearly that a boy, for some
reason or other, was unhappy, or in ill-health, or
consumed by a morbid curiosity, and then he acted
always with extreme caution. He made an exception
in the case of boys in authority, from whom he often
appears to have had voluntary Statements and dis¬
closures, as being one of the few masters to whom
boys could appeal without “ unwholesome restraint.”
This attitude of his was intensely distasteful to Dr.
Hornby amongst others. For some time the Head

98

CURZON’S EARLY TEMPTATIONS

Master was able to vent his griefs only in chance
remarks, but in the summer half of 1874 an incident
occurred which showed more plainly the suspicion
with which the Head Master regarded Oscar
Browning’s moral influence.

Ill

Two years previously a bright and clever boy,
George Nathaniel Curzon, had entered Wolley-
Dod’s house. That same autumn Oscar Browning,
who was talcing another master’s Division, first
made the acquaintance of the young Curzon, who
impressed him at once, in his own words, as one of
the most brilliantly gifted boys he had ever come
across. Curzon was subsequently “ up to him ”—
that is to say, he was his form, or, in Eton phrase¬
ology “ Division,” master—and this impression was
confirmed. Oscar Browning, who had given himself
a roving commission to take an interest in any
boy of intelle&ual promise whom he considered
was negle&ed by his own tutor, was anxious about
the future Viceroy. He had no opinion of Wolley-
Dod’s insight, and he believed too that his house
was in a bad State. This anxiety was increased in
the following Michaelmas school-time, when the
captain of Wolley-Dod’s house told him that he
was deeply concerned at the companions with
whom Curzon was associating. Oscar Browning
advised the boy to speak to his own tutor, saying
that under the circumstances he did not see how
he could interfere. On consideration, however,
he wrote to his father, Lord Scarsdale, with the
result that at the beginning of the ensuing half
Curzon went to see ham, and the beginnings were

99

OSCAR BROWNING

formed of a friendship which was destined to last
uninterruptedly for half a century.

That the dangers which surrounded this gifted
lad were real and did not cease at once is shown
by a letter to Oscar Browning from a boy high in
the school and a distinguished athlete, which was
written in the summer half of 1874. The boy had
borrowed a rug in Upper Club which chanced to
be Curzon’s, with the result that its owner was
chaffed. “ It made me feel,” says the writer, who
afterwards also became a well-known man, “ what
a State of public opinion there muSt be when a big
fellow cannot even come across a little fellow in
the most casual way without its being remarked,
and (as might happen in some cases) the most
hideous conStru&ion being placed upon it. I feel
it more particularly in this instance, as Curzon is a
boy among many whose acquaintance for various
reasons I should much like to make, knowing of
what a superior quality he really is and how often
he has been in a dangerous position here. But
bearing in mind the State of feeling about these
matters, I have, of course, relinquished the idea,
fearing the harm it might do other boys. As I
know the interest you take in him, I should be
much obliged if you would let him know how
sorry I am if I have got him into the least trouble
accidentally in this matter, and I write to you
about it as I see no other means of safely letting
him know what I feel.” It is a commentary on
the position of unofficial cuBos morum which Oscar
Browning had come to occupy that two boys, both
high in the school but neither of them his pupils,
should appeal to him about a third who was likewise
not in his house.

_ O n the same day that he received this letter his
right to the position was to be sharply called in
question. As with not a few other boys in whom

100

CURZON’S TUTOR PROTESTS

he was interested, Oscar Browning had developed
a close intimacy with the young Curzon. He had
given him the run of his library, invited him often
to breakfast or tea, supervised his work. To the
Stimulus thus received Curzon doubtless owed his
w innin g of the Prince Consort’s French prize in
1874, much to the surprise, it was Stated, of his
own tutor. In the summer half of that year Curzon
had been Struck by a cricket ball in the eye, an
accident which had prevented him from taking any
part in the normal school life. It was the interest
which O. B. showed in Curzon at this time which
impelled his tutor to complain to Hornby. “ I
strongly objedt,” Wolley-Dod wrote to Browning,
“ to your taking Curzon out for drives without
leave from me or the Head Master, to your writing
to him by post, which you have done several
times, when he is only two doors off; and most of
all to your doing his verses for him, as I have
suspedted several times, and as he admits in the
case of his iambics this week. I think the whole
case is one which justifies an appeal to the Head
Master, and I have accordingly made one, specifying
the points on which your dealings with Curzon
seem to me objedtionable.” The three things
were all susceptible of explanation, and they soon
dropped out of the ensuing controversy. An
invitation to breakfast had found its way by acci¬
dent into the post; leave had been obtained for
the drive, taken when Curzon had been incapaci¬
tated and left to his own resources; the only
occasion when Oscar Browning had “helped”
Curzon with his iambics was one afternoon in his
Study when Knatchbull-Hugessen, afterwards the
first Lord Brabourne and a friend of Lord Scars-
dale’s, had been present for the greater part of the
time. The assistance had been “ very slight ” in any
case. The fa£t was, as O. B. pointed out to Wolley-

xox

OSCAR BROWNING

Dod, that Curzon was a very clever boy, and as
his tutor he should have recognised it.

The unpleasant tone of Wolley-Dod’s letter was
emphasised when Hornby, who had sent for Oscar
Browning on the Strength of Wolley-Dod’s com¬
plaint, received him with the remark: “So I
hear Mr. Wolley-Dod has a good-looking pupil.”

“ Do you mean to say,” Browning answered with
some heat, “ that you have allowed any master to
tell you I took notice of a boy because he was
good-looking ? ”

“ I don’t know, I am sure,” was the ambiguous
reply.

It is not the sort of remark one expeCts a Head
Master to make casually to one of his subordinates,
and one wonders how Oscar JBrowning, as he did
on his own showing, allowed the interview to
continue without a full explanation or a with¬
drawal. Was he so astonished as to be reduced
to a silence usually foreign to his nature ? Was
he overpowered by the prestige which surrounds
a Head Master ? Surmise gropes for an explana¬
tion, and one can only say that the pedagogic
mind works in a Strange way. However, if con¬
versations were unsatisfactory it was always possible
to continue the discussion by letter. Oscar Brown¬
ing, searching for an explanation of the Head
Master’s innuendo, was informed by Wolley-Dod
that the summary of his “ complaint ” was that
he considered Curzon a boy likely to be made vain
and to be spoilt by the notice and attention he got
from Browning. He ends drily: “ The Head

Master has misunderstood me if he thinks that I
attributed your attentions to Curzon’s personal
appearance. I have written to the Head Master
to correCt that impression.” And two days later
he adds : “ The suggestion which you say was
made to you by the Head Master is one for

102

UNPLEASANT INNUENDOES

•which I should have been very sorry to give any
authority whatever, nor was it, as you say you heard
from Wayte, made by one of my colleagues.”
Wayte, it may be explained, had told O. B. that a
colleague whom Wolley-Dod had consulted on
the matter had remarked that he supposed it was
a “ case of spooning.” It was also to Wayte that
Wolley-Dod had spoken of Oscar Browning’s
“ irrepressible attentions ” to Curzon. It is pretty
evident, even if one accepts Wolley-Dod’s assur¬
ances about his communications with Hornby,
that gossip was busy and that the Head Master
was again listening to “ idle tales.” Wolley-Dod
on his side was clearly blind to his pupil’s qualities.
He does not think that he has “ improved.”
“ Every master,” he writes to O. B., “ who has
had him under him except you has complained
of want of Straightforwardness in him, and I am
sorry to say that I have seen too many instances
of it. He has lately become querulous and spoilt
in manner.” He goes on: “I regret nothing I
have said or done, for I feel that it is impossible
for us to do justice to our pupils if counter-influences
are at work amongst ourselves to undo the good
we try to do.”

Dr. Hornby, “ who does not wish to dwell on
the subjeft,” begins, when he takes up the pen,
by explaining his exceedingly equivocal remark.
“ I want,” he writes, “ only to say first that in
speaking of Curzon as an attractive boy I did not
wish to impute any motives to you, only to point
out that in a public school appearances must be
taken into account, and that, independent of a
tutor’s expressed wish, there is good reason why
such an intimacy as seems to have arisen between
you and Curzon should not continue.” Hornby
imagines that even Oscar Browning’s most intimate
friends, while justifying his motives, would admit

103

OSCAR BROWNING

that there had been “ some indiscretion ” on his
part. Then he shifts from the particular to the
general and the real point at issue emerges. “I
think that I ought to say that the habit, which if
I am not mistaken you have formed of entering
into very confidential talks with many boys (not
your pupils) about the character and conduit of
their schoolfellows, seems to me to be a very
dangerous one and to do great harm without really
effecting anything for what, I believe, you have as
your objeft in such intercourse, the eradication or
diminution of gross vice in the school.” He con¬
cludes with an almost cordial apology for touching
on the wider subjeft, which often “ causes him
anxiety.”

Any chance of the matter being discussed in a
friendlier spirit was dashed by Oscar Browning’s
reply. The charge of “ indiscretion ” had roused
his indignation, and the Head Master’s condem¬
nation of the methods which he had deliberately
chosen to improve the morality of the school
Struck, he believed, at the very root of his work.
And he asks how Dr. Hornby could listen to such
reports, “ which were quite untrue and unfounded.”
A long reply is the result, a reply which begins by
recording the Head Master’s “ sorrow ” that his
previous note had not drawn any expression of
regret, “ nor any assurance that you will not con¬
tinue to aft as you have hitherto done in this
matter.” Hornby proceeds to make two demands :
firstly, that Oscar Browning shall discontinue his
intimacy with Curzon at once, and secondly,
though he cannot lay down exaft rules about his
intercourse with other boys, or his reports to other
masters regarding his belief in particular boys’
conduft and influence, that O. B. should be more
careful than he has hitherto been in reporting
confidential communications affefting the charafter

104

HORNBY THINKS O.B. INDISCREET

of others, and also “ in encouraging boys to make
such confidences.” Oscar Browning, thus attacked
in what he considered the most vital sphere of
his influence, protested. But it was in vain.
Another long letter from the Head Master declares
that he had reasons for thinking Browning “ indis¬
creet ” and for regretting that he “ should have
taken a prominent and very mistaken line about
some delicate matters relating to the temptations
and vices of boys.” A reference to that unfortunate
affair of the bills, about which Hornby had accused
him of prevarication, shows that this too was not
forgotten.

Should Oscar Browning give the promise ?
Would it be right to do so ? He had made a
friend of Curzon with the father’s permission and
approval. He could hardly let that friendship drop
unless he desired it. Let them, therefore, he
suggested, appeal to Lord Scarsdale. But Dr.
Hornby declined any mediation of this kind.
“ There is much,” he observes, “ in such cases of
which a parent can hardly judge, and which I
could not without negleCt of duty waive my own
right to decide.” And again he demands the
assurance.

Oscar Browning was Strongly advised by his
friends to give nothing of the sort. If the matter
was one of principle, he was Stultifying himself
by submitting to this deliberate curtailment of his
activities. He was admitting his own error. The
proper and dignified course, they held, was to
refuse the Head Master’s unprecedented demand
and to leave upon him the onus of taking further
aCtion. Thus he hesitated. In the meantime he
wrote again to Dr. Hornby asking why he should
require such an assurance and what exadtly it was
meant to imply. Supposing he met Curzon in the
Street, as was exceedingly probable, was he not to say

xoj

OSCAR BROWNING

“ Good-morning ” or acknowledge a similar greet¬
ing on the part of Curzon ? “ What I mean,”
answered Hornby, “ is that all intercourse should
now cease between you and Curzon. Nothing
short of this will do. It is impossible to define
degrees of intimacy in such a matter.” His reasons,
the Head Master says, are clear. The boy’s tutor
considers the intercourse bad for him, and the
marks of an “ unusual intimacy ” are known.
“ Boys speak of such matters in somewhat plain-
spoken and possibly coarse terms.” Fitzjames
Stephen, commenting upon this letter, observed
that the hints and suggestions it contained would
scarcely, if at all, bear the ordeal of the Courts of
Law when the peculiar atmosphere of Eton, as
shown in preceding letters, was taken into account.
“ Dr. Hornby’s language,” he writes, “ is so
framed as to contain an implied excuse for the
boys’ ‘ coarse language,’ and something very like
belief in the justice and applicability of it. A
severe condemnation of that ‘coarse language’
might naturally have been expe&ed. The absence
of it alone would constitute a very near approach
to the charge of immorality. Hints and insinua¬
tions of this kind are sometimes worse than simp le
accusations. On the Head Master’s own showing
it indicates that the school was in such a frightful
condition that no intercourse beyond the most
ordinary could take place between master and boy
without a filthy and obscene meaning and inten¬
tion, language which the Head Master calls ‘ some¬
what plain-spoken and possibly coarse ’! ”

The perplexity in which Oscar Browning found
himself, further increased by a letter from Lord
Scarsdale, who said that he did not wish the kindly
relations existing between him and his son to
fall through, led O. B. to consult Knatchbull-
Hugessen. After reading the correspondence that

CURZON’S OWN VIEWS

man of affairs drafted a letter for him to send to
Hornby, which first registered “ an indignant
protest at any such complexion being given to the
relations between himself and the boy as the terms
of the Head Master’s letter implied,” and con¬
cluded as follows: “ If I were conscious of the
smallest impropriety in these relations I would
readily give the assurance you desire. My doing
so, however, especially after your last letter, would
imply my admission of that which I indignantly
repudiate, and I cannot feel justified in taking such
a course.”

In his answer to this, Hornby, avoiding the more
dangerous ground of his previous letter, falls back
on the “ admitted fadts ” as regards Browning’s
intercourse with Curzon. In any case the tutor
and the Head Master disapproved. That should
be sufficient. And he asks again for the assurance
that his wishes shall be carried out. An attempt
at mediation by E. D. Stone was fruitless, -and
finally Oscar Browning, faced with a final and
peremptory demand from the Head Master, con¬
sulted the ProvoSt. Dr. Goodford advised compli¬
ance, and accordingly he sent the required assurance,
pointing out at the same time that its exadtion
showed a want of confidence in him which ought
not to exist, and that if the intercourse between
him and the boy had been the subject of comment,
as the Head Master seemed to have feared, its
sudden cessation would “probably be so to a
greater extent.” It only remained for O. B. to
inform Curzon that he could see no more of him
during the school-times. Curzon, on discovering
the way in which his name had been used, was not
unnaturally annoyed and hurt. This his letter
shows : “ I can’t say,” he writes, “ how distressed
I am to think that I am prevented from seeing you,
and all through the unkind, ungentlemanly and

107

OSCAR BROWNING

obstinate conduct of my tutor, whom I detest the
more I see him. But I must thank you with my
whole heart for all the inestimable good you have
done me, for you have always been open to me as
the best of counsellors, and have opened my eyes
to the company by which I am surrounded and
have warned me against evil companions.” He
adds that he has written to his father, who he is
sure “ takes a right view of the case,” asking him
to write at once to the Head Master and call upon
the latter to revoke “ his unjuSt decision,” and
that in any case there can be no obstacle to their
communicating in the holidays.

The affair, one would have thought, was now
closed. Such an assumption, however, would be
far from the truth. Oscar Browning had written
to Wolley-Dod to say that so long as the Curzon
interdict lasted there could be no friendly inter¬
course between them. “ Dear Browning,” answers
Wolley-Dod, “I have never expressed a wish,
either to you or the Head Master, that all inter¬
course between you and Curzon should cease.”
Yet the Head Master had written: “ You formerly
pleaded that the boy’s tutor had not made his dis¬
approval plain to you. You now know his wish
and mine as regards this intercourse.” It was all
very puzzling. Did this statement of Curzon’s
tutor justify Oscar Browning in supposing that the
prohibition was already removed ? It was at any
rate worth while inquiring. But Hornby’s answer
only repeated what he had already said. “ I have
consulted Wolley-Dod,” he says, “ who does not
think a renewal of your intercourse with Curzon
desirable.” Nor did a letter from the boy’s parents
to Dr. Hornby, drawn up in consultation with
Knatchbull-Hugessen, meet with any more success.
An interview which Lord Scarsdale and Knatch¬
bull-Hugessen, that aftive friend of Oscar Brown-

108

HORNBY’S MISTRUST

ing’s, had with the Head Master shortly afterwards
was equally unfavourable. Dr. Hornby had spoken,
and he was not to be deflected from his course by
argument or entreaty.

It is clear that Hornby had made up his mind
that his assistant’s influence in the school was a
bad one. The correspondence apart, remarks he
let drop prove this quite conclusively. Thus in
conversation with E. D. Stone he observed that
he could attend to nothing Lord Lyttelton’s sons,
then high up in the school, might say, as they
were under “ sinister influence.” On being asked
whose he replied: “ Browning’s.” True, the

Head Master on being written to by Lord Lyttelton
denied that he had said it, but his informant adhered
to his Story and sent it in writing to Oscar Brown¬
ing. To Cornish, who pointed out the obvious
truth that if Oscar Browning was unfit to hold
intercourse with Curzon he was unfit to be a
master, Hornby replied: “ So he is.” And he
informed another master, who had asked him why
he had required a written assurance, that he had done
so because he could not trust Browning’s word.

During the holidays O. B., whilst in Norway
with the Bryces and Bishop Welldon, who wisely
preferred sleep to reading Curtius’s Hiftorj of the
Greek Verb with him in the long summer after¬
noons, returned again to the question. He regarded
himself in his own words as under a Stigma, and
until it was removed he felt that his work and
usefulness at Eton would be seriously impaired.
But Hornby was not to be mollified. In an answer
that extends to eight closely written pages he says
that Browning is “ most perverse” to make a
grievance of the question. “It is intolerable that
an Eton Master should come between a tutor and
his pupil and even bring the boy’s parents into the
unpleasantness. Even if I thought that the cessa-

109

OSCAR BROWNING

tion of your intercourse with the boy would give
rise to unpleasant reflections in the. school I should
not hesitate. A man cannot plead his own wrong¬
doing and be allowed to continue in it for fear of
possible scandal.” An extraordinary Statement.
O. B. had certainly never pleaded any “ wrong¬
doing.” On the contrary, he considered that he
had been aCting throughout in accordance with
deliberately chosen principles which were en¬
dangered by the Head Master’s attitude. And as
for the “ scandal,” it was, of course, Hornby who
had given this as one of the reasons why he should
have nothing more to do with Curzon, O. B.
having merely replied that the scandal (if any)
would probably be greater if their intercourse
ceased entirely.

His most dignified course would have been
resignation. But this was now more difficult
than before. Resignation unaccompanied by a
full Statement of the circumstances would have
placed him in an impossible situation, whilst other
considerations made it difficult, if not impossible,
that the truth could be told. “ I doubt if any of
you,” writes E. M. Young, afterwards to become
Head of Sherborne, who had been in close touch
with Oscar Browning throughout, “ who have
breathed the Eton atmosphere for so long appreciate
what the effedfc upon public opinion will be of dis¬
closing the fact that at the greatest of our public
schools it is a possibility that one master should
throw out casual innuendoes against another, as
Wolley-Dod has made against you, and that the
whole body should not feel itself outraged and rise
as one man against the accuser or accused—that the
fairest youth in England should have been entrusted
to a body of men who could tolerate such a State
of things with patience.” Clearly it was difficult to
resign and leave the question to the public verdift.

XIO

FOOLISH AND UNBUSINESSLIKE LETTER

It was almost as difficult for Oscar Browning
to believe that the Head Master and Wolley-Dod
could be really of the opinion that his influence on
the young Curzon could be bad. Refle&ion added
to his incredulity, and one afternoon in the follow¬
ing November he wrote a note to Wolley-Dod
asking him if he would permit Curzon coming to
tea with him, as Knatchbull-Hugessen would be
there and wished to see him. He marked the
note “ private,” intending thereby to prevent its
reaching Dr. Hornby. Armed with Wolley-Dod’s
consent, which he fully expected to obtain, he be¬
lieved that he would secure from the Head Master a
revocation of the Curzon interdict. But the thing
turned out otherwise than he had expe&ed, for
Wolley-Dod sent the note on to the Head Master,
and Dr. Hornby at once jumped to the conclusion
that Oscar Browning was trying to evade his
promise.

Though one may dismiss this assumption, it
was, as his friends admitted, “ very foolish and
unbusinesslike,” and laid him open to renewed
attack. Another letter from the Head Master
again threatened dismissal unless the assurance
were renewed, the third threat he had received
within a year. Again he was torn with doubts
whether he should give it; again ading on advice,
this time given by Knatchbull-Hugessen, he sub¬
mitted. And the end of what has been described
as an “affair without parallel in school history”
was reached with the letter of another Eton master
to Lord Lyttelton asking whether it should not be
made incumbent on the Head Master to place his
threats against his assistants before the Govern¬
ing Body, as he was bound to do in the case of
dismissals.

Undoubtedly this incident, to which afterwards
he was always loath to refer, caused him, in his

in

OSCAR BROWNING

own words, “ the acuteSt pain he had ever experi¬
enced.” He had never regarded his duties as an
Eton master as confined to his own pupils or his
own Division. He was a master of the School.
Ever since he had been at Eton he had thrown
open his library and his house to any boys who
cared for literature, music or art, and he did so
the more willingly because he felt that some counter¬
balancing influence was required to that exercised
by masters over boys who were not their pupils in
games. For the future he had to work under the
declared hostility of the Head Master, and it was
obviously only a question of time before Dr.
Hornby would seize an occasion to rid himself of
an assistant whom he suspefted and completely
failed to appreciate. It is worth while mentioning
that some time after Oscar Browning had left
Eton, Lord Scarsdale arranged that his son should
change his tutor, and that in the following year, as
the result of the more congenial atmosphere of
Stone’s pupil-room, Curzon was in the select for
the Newcastle; and it should be added that the
Head Master’s ban only applied to school-times.
In the holidays O. B. was at liberty to write to Curzon
and to see as much of him as was agreeable and
convenient to Lord Scarsdale and himself.

112

CHAPTER VIII

OSCAR BROWNING LEAVES ETON

I

By Staying on at Eton Oscar Browning might
be Still, as he had conceived himself to be twelve
years previously, forwarding in a humble way the
interests of humanity. But it had become also
an exceedingly disagreeable way. The battle was
going against him. Whereas in 1869 he had
written to Alfred Sidgwick : “ You see that after
ten years’ fighting we have at last beaten the ProvoSt
and Fellows,” it looked now as if the viflory would
be on the side of the big battalions. Should he
fight to the finish, or leave the field to the Philistines ?
All through the ensuing winter half he was beset
by doubts. George Eliot helped to persuade him
not to despair, and in the end he decided to remain.
“ I am glad,” she wrote to him, “ that you have
made up your mind to endure and persevere—
words easy to write as advice but hard to follow
out in the patient aftion of days, months, years.
Perhaps the most difficult heroism is that which
consists in the daily conquest over private demons,
not in the slaying of world-notorious dragons.
Certainly it seems to me that the finest course of
aftion you can pursue will be to impose the utmost
restraint on impatience and look on your life simp ly
as the problem of carrying out your ideas of useful¬
ness at Eton as far as may be without dangerous
collisions. To further this happiness and benefi¬
cence of your life—even apart from the question
1 113

OSCAR BROWNING

of your dear mother’s feeling—you should have
the precise conception of an alternative to your
present task, an equivalent social contribution,
before you unlink yourself. But I gather that
your resolution is thoroughly formed and I rejoice.”

It was all very well for George Eliot to write
thus. His own private demons, his own impatience
to make Eton a microcosm of a better world,
might be restrained. FitzJames Stephen promises
to help him with any advice or assistance which he
can offer. “ I feel,” he says, “ that you deserve it
on every account, and especially because you have
been a kind and judicious friend to James (J. K.
Stephen) in all sorts of ways.” As a mere matter
of discretion, however, he thinks that Oscar Brown¬
ing should try to lead boys rather to grave and hard
books than to poetry and criticism, and he is sorry
that he should have lent Omar 'Khayyam to one of
his pupils. It is a lady’s book, and he has both
lent and given it to ladies though he has been
told “ the original is as bad as anything can be.”

But even if O. B. avoided introducing his boys to
Fitzgerald, there was always Dr. Hornby regarding
him with a cold and critical eye, ready to pounce
upon him at the slightest opportunity. And there
was gossip to misrepresent his activities. Stephen is
true to his word, and in May 1875 he writes that he
has taken Steps effectually to Stop all further repeti¬
tions of the “ infamous slander ” (with which Walter
Pater had been connected—clearly an echo of the
Mile, de Maupin Story) that had grown from out of
a perfectly innocent and natural conversation. Per¬
haps it would be possible to make peace, to com¬
pose the troubles which filled not a few of the
Eton Fellows with misgiving. “ The wrath of
man,” wrote the good old Bishop Chapman to
J. L. Joynes, who a few years later was to become
Lower Master, “ never did and never will work the

114

ANOTHER CONTROVERSY

righteousness of God.” And Joynes, in replying
to Oscar Browning’s suggestion that he should aft
as peacemaker, says that if ever he could help as a
colleague in that way it would be both right and
a pleasure, although

“ Who •would in quarrels interpose
Will often get a bloody nose.”

“ But this,” he adds, “ one ought not to mind.”

II

The wrath of the Head Master did not slumber
for long. It was next aroused by an alleged piece
of carelessness on Oscar Browning’s part. There
were three brothers called Leatham in his house,
and the second had been removed gravely ill.
Sir William Gull had despaired of his life, and in
the absence of news O. B. had concluded that he
had left for good. In consequence he omitted the
boy’s name from the school list in the Michaelmas
Term of ’74, and did not pay the usual fee of £8
to the Head Master. Leatham mi. subsequently
returned, and in May ’75, Oscar Browning received
a note from the Head Master Stating that the fees
had not been paid in for three school-times. He
replied that he would forward Hornby’s letter to
the father, and that as soon as he received the
money he would pay it into the school fund. This
evoked an angry answer, which accused him of
“ carelessness,” expressed surprise that he had made
no apology for the trouble he had caused, and
requested that the money should be paid into the
bank “ without further delay or evasion.” In the
end it was discovered that only £8, and not £24,
was owing for Leatham, so that if there was care¬
lessness it was not only on one side. Oscar
Browning sent Hornby’s letter to John Hibbert,

115

OSCAR BROWNING

who agreed that his “ correspondent ” certainly
did not write in a pleasant Style. He added:
“ You must submit, as he carries the guns, and an
appeal to the Governing Body (of which Hibbert
was a member) would be most unpleasant, and I
think fatal to you.” And then, like the others, he
recommended great caution and great forbearance.
During the same half there was some trouble in
which Leatham mi. was implicated, and the father,
after interviewing both Oscar Browning and Dr.
Hornby, said that he would prefer to have his boys
in another house, as the relations between the
Head Master and his assistant were evidentiy of
such a nature as to make it impossible for boys in
Browning’s house to have a fair chance.

Dr. Hornby was always on the watch. O. B.
tells him casually that he had been to a meeting in
London. He ponders over it, and the result is a
rebuke. “ Till you mentioned to me in Chambers
on Tuesday that you had attended a meeting in
London about the Hawtrey Memorial, I had no
notion that you had given up some of your schools
on Monday. It is an old rule, not of my making,
that one master should not take another’s school
without the Head Master’s san&ion.” The reply
was that on Monday Oscar Browning had given
up no schools whatever, as whilst he was away his
Division was up to a mathematical master. Hornby
was rapidly, at least in his dealings with Oscar
Browning, falling into those habits of inaccuracy
and slovenliness of which he accused his assistant.
As Wolley-Dod remarked to Browning after his
dismissal, the Head Master’s feelings toward him
“ amounted to monomania.” “ Hornby has no
charge against you which is not absolutely frivolous,
and you can State this whenever you like on my
authority.” So said Wolley-Dod, who had no
prejudices in Browning’s favour.

THE LAST ACT OPENS

III

The last aft of the comedy, however, had begun
before this. There existed a regulation that no
master should have more than forty boarders,
though by special permission he might have forty-
three. This had never been enforced before
Christmas 1874. Then one day the Provost’s
daughter, to while away the leisure of an idle
hour, reckoned up the number of boys in each
house and discovered that some had more than
their complement. Browning’s naturally being one
of them. Dr. Goodford told this piece of informa¬
tion to Hibbert, who said he had better send round
and have a return made. The ProvoSt found it
sufficient to write to Dr. Hornby, who forwarded
his letter to Oscar Browning. The Head Master
naturally made the most of this unexpected piece
of good fortune and required him “ to State at once
in writing ” whether he was prepared to begin the
next school-time in due compliance with the regula¬
tions. Oscar Browning, angry that he was being
thus picked out for the infringement of a regulation
whilst others equally culpable were left alone, failed
to overcome his private demon of impatience and
answered in a tone which the ProvoSt described
as defiant. Thanks, however, to the intervention
of the peace-maker, John Hibbert, he placed him¬
self “ unreservedly ” in the hands of the Governing
Body, and expressed his regret at having contra¬
vened the regulations. Thus in the summer half
of 1875 he had forty boarders and three Colleger
pupils, the maximum allowed by the special sanftion
of the Governing Body, which had to be renewed
every school-time. He looked upon the granting
of this leave as a matter of form. It was hardly
possible that it would be refused, as it would mean
that he would have to keep three empty rooms in

1x7

OSCAR BROWNING

his house for the sake of the three Colleger pupils,
whom the Head Master would not allow him to
give up, and would inflift a severe financial sacrifice
on himself as well as a hardship on the parents
who were clamouring to obtain admittance for
their sons into his house, admission to which, as
one of them complained, “ could only be obtained
after a regular process of siege.” He would, to be
accurate, be losing £400 a year from his boarders
and gaining £31 ioj. from his Colleger pupils, a
point which he emphasised at various Stages of the
ensuing controversy, and which led The Times to
deprecate these “ disputes among schoolmasters
on matters of petty gain.”

At the end of the half, however, two brothers
were removed from his house to another on the
ground that they were overworked, and the vacancy
thus caused he promised to give, after some dis¬
cussion, to Knatchbull-Hugessen’s son, who was
already high in the school. On the last day of the
half a circular came from the Head Master asking
the masters to say what new boys they expe&ed.
O. B. replied from London that he expe&ed no new
boy in his house who was not already in the school,
and that if the permission of the Governing Body,
given in the half then terminating, were extended,
he would have the same number of boys as before
—forty in his house and three Colleger pupils.
(The two brothers had occupied a single room
and counted as one.) He enclosed a formal applica¬
tion at the same time to the Governing Body which
he asked the Head Master to forward. In reply
Dr. Hornby said he was sure that the application
would not be granted, for one thing because it was
too late, and for another because a similar request
made by C. C. James had already been refused.

Oscar Browning was indignant. He wrote to
Knatchbull-Hugessen to tell him that he could not

118

DR. HORNBY’S AMIABLE HOPES

take his boy. Knatchbull-Hugessen at once
appealed to the ProvoSt, who replied that as chair¬
man of the Governing Body it would hardly be
right for him to aft as counsel in a case which
might come before him as judge. “ One thing,”
he said, “ I cannot advise, that Mr. Browning
should take the boy and ask for an indemnity after¬
wards. The Governing Body gave notice in May
last that they would not entertain applications for
an increase of the number of pupils from masters
who first increased their numbers and then asked
leave to do so.” A week or two later O. B. saw
Dr. Hornby at Keswick, when he was “ very civil ”
and promised to write to the ProvoSt hmself.
The letter in which Hornby acquaints him with the
negative result of this attempt is also perfectly
friendly. There was nothing more to be done, and
Oscar Browning again told Knatchbull-Hugessen
that he could not take his son. Shortly afterwards
the circumstances were changed through other
boys leaving, so that it became possible after all
to accede to Knatchbull-Hugessen’s wishes. In
the beginning of September Mrs. Browning sent
the Head Master a list of the thirty-seven boys who
would be in their house, and on September 6, only
ten days before he formally gave Oscar Browning
his notice of dismissal. Dr. Hornby wrote to
Knatchbull-Hugessen : “ I have received the list
sent by Mrs. Browning. If there is no misunder¬
standing (and Mrs. Browning is very careful and
accurate), all will go smoothly, and I shall be very
glad of it.” There was no hint here of the Storm
that was about to burst. It is evident that Dr.
Hornby on September 6 had no prevision of what
he was going to do ten days later. Neither had
Oscar Browning. When he returned to Eton he
was concerned with the question of his three vacant
rooms. It was clearly hopeless to expeffc the

“9

OSCAR BROWNING

Governing Body to agree to any extension. The
only way to avoid the loss of the £400 a year was
by giving up his Colleger pupils. This he could
only do with the Head Master’s san&ion. True,
Dr. Hornby had already said that he would not
consent to such a Step. Still Oscar Browning
evidently thought it worth while asking, and so
on September 15 he called with the object of making
this proposal. Fresh from his summer holidays
abroad, he was no doubt less subtle than ever in his
diagnosis of what the Head Master’s thoughts and
mood might be. He felt it to be absurd that when
parents were clamouring to obtain admission for
their sons into his house he should have to keep
three rooms vacant in order to satisfy a regulation
which other masters, besides himself, had habitually
broken. The conversation, nevertheless, from the
account which Oscar Browning sent immediately
afterwards to Lord Lyttelton before there had been
any sequel, appears to have opened amicably. They
talked of the holidays, of Switzerland and mountains,
the Lakes and the Alps. Then Oscar Browning
walked to the edge of the precipice. He said that
he supposed there was no chance of the Governing
Body giving leave, as they seemed determined to
Stick to the number of forty, and he added that he
was sorry he had not made it clear about the transfer
of the young Knatchbull-Hugessen.

Suddenly Dr. Hornby lost his temper. His
“ griefs accumulated ” were too much for him,
and he called O. B. a “ shuffler ” because he had
not asked for leave. Browning pointed out that
leave was never asked in the case of an amicable
arrangement. “ Worse shuffling then ever,”
Hornby declared, not without something of the
self-righteousness which was natural to this Head
Master, “ to excuse yourself by others’ delin¬
quencies.” Oscar Browning asked whether he

120

HEAD MASTER WHITE WITH RAGE

had called C. C. James a shuffler for receiving the
two brothers into his house without leave. The
Head Master replied that Browning had told him
they were going. “ Whose business is it then,”
he inquired, “ to ask leave ? The tutor who
surrenders, the tutor who receives, or the parent ? ”
“ Both,” replied Hornby. “ You are the greatest
shuffler I have ever met. You shuffle in every¬
thing you do. Your chara&er is known to the
Governing Body. You negleft your work. Why
don’t you read Madvig’s Latin Grammar? You
lefture to ladies; you examine here and there;
you give musical parties on Saturday evenings.
Why don’t you Stick to your work ? No one ever
treated me in a Straightforward manner who did
not find me Straightforward.”

O. B. declared that his conduct had been candour
itself. But Hornby, now “grown white with
rage,” was in no mood to listen. “ Why, you are a
liar ! ” he went on. “ You told me a lie two years
ago. I wish I had dismissed you for it then.”
“ If you use that language,” Oscar Browning
replied, “ I had better leave the room, and you had
better make a complaint to the Governing Body,”
and he moved towards the door. But the inter¬
view did not terminate thus. For Dr. Hornby at
once, plunging into the affair of the bills, now
nearly two years old, went over that Story once
again, and concluded by saying that the relations
between them had better cease. Oscar Browning
answered that he would not resign and that Hornby
must take the responsibility of dismissing him.
On his side he poured out his grievances, how he had
endured “ constant persecution ” at Hornby’s hands
for two years, how he had only Stayed on for his
mother’s sake, how Hornby had written him inde¬
fensible letters, how he had never had a chance
of clearing himself of the charges brought against

I2X

OSCAR BROWNING

him. There was no tribunal to which he could
appeal. All he wished was a fair and impartial
hearing before someone or other on the questions
at issue between them. He had often thought of
appealing to the Governing Body. “ If you do
that,” said Hornby, “ you must take the conse¬
quences.” Browning replied that he would write
to Lord Lyttelton and take the consequences
whatever they might be.

After this undignified wrangling the two dis¬
cussed the question of the Colleger pupils. Dr.
Hornby wished to lay exaCt restrictions on their
hours of going out in the evenings, because he
believed that O. B. “ made the boys idle.” O. B.
does not appear to have made the obvious riposte
that in that case it would be better for them to
have another tutor. But when he asked if he
might give them up, Hornby replied: “ If you
do I will dismiss you. No, you shall not give
them up.” “ Why then,” asked O. B., “ was C. C.
James allowed to give up his outdoor pupils ? ”
Hornby denied this—one of the inexactitudes which
creep into controversy, for James two hours later
received the written permission of the Head Master
to this end. He made his denial more emphatic
by saying : “ Clear the dirt off your own doorstep
and don’t mind your neighbours. I shall do what
is perfectly right. You shall not give up your
three Collegers.” And once more the conversa¬
tion turned on the exaCt times at which the three
Collegers were to go to and return from Brown¬
ing’s, that home of wasted time. Hornby ended,
in faCt, by relaxing the restrictions which he had
wished to impose. Thus after two outbursts the
discords of the interview were more or less satis¬
factorily resolved. Hornby had resumed his natural
colour. Oscar Browning had neither been dis¬
missed from the Head Master’s presence nor had he

122

THE BOMBSHELL BURSTS

himself left the room as a protest. But the relations
between the two had grown one degree worse.
Mutual recriminations by word of mouth were a
new thin g. And that same day Oscar Browning
wrote an account of the interview to Lord Lyttel¬
ton, substantially in the terms given above, pointing
out that his own attitude had been throughout that
of one trying to remove misconceptions. He had
remained perfectly cool and had done nothing
either to excite or aggravate the anger of Hornby.
Should he now resign, or should he appeal to the
Governing Body?

Lord Lyttelton returned a very cordial answer
in his usual illegible hand, discountenancing resig¬
nation, but saying that advice he could not give as
he was himself a member of the Governing Body.
But before he had received this letter Hornby had
forestalled either course. For on the following
day he wrote this letter to Oscar Browning :

“Eton College,
September 16 tb, 1875.

“Dear Browning,

“ After our conversation yesterday you
will, I think, have expefted some communication
from me.

“ I have purposely put off writing for a whole
day, that I might not, in a very serious matter, aft
hastily or under any feelings of irritation.

“ I must remind you that, in the interview which
you sought with me yesterday, you charged me
with prejudice, unfairness and constant persecution
in my dealings with you; and you tried to justify
your recent breach of well-known rules, which I
am bound to enforce, on the ground that you
believed that some of your colleagues had broken
them. Such a plea hardly needs an answer; but
I must remind you that, in your case, particular

123

OSCAR BROWNING

attention had been called to your violation of the
rules last winter—that you had in consequence
received a reprimand, and very definite instructions
in writing as to your future course. I believe that
your colleagues will be found to have kept within
the regulations; but if there has been any violation
of them (and I shall at once proceed to investigate
this), it cannot in any way justify what you have
done.

“ For two or three years, hardly a school-time
has passed in which I have not been compelled
to undertake the very painful task of calling you
to account for negleft of work or violation of rules.
I feel that I have carried forbearance, in your case,
beyond the limit which I ought to have observed
in Strift duty to the school. I have done so because
of the extreme gravity of dismissing a master from
Eton, especially one of your age and Standing,
and because I tried to indulge the hope that your
condud might yet be such as to make this extreme
measure unnecessary. I feel, however, that after
recent events, and after our conversation of yester¬
day, it is not possible for me to feel that confidence
in you which is absolutely necessary to our
working together, and to my entrusting you with
the important duties which belong to an Eton
master.

“ I must therefore give you notice that your
mastership will terminate at the end of this school-
time.

“ Yours sincerely,

“ J. J. Hornby.”

This curious document, with its self-commenda¬
tion—the writer has allowed a whole day to elapse
in order that he may not aft “ hastily, or under any
feelings of irritation,” and he extols his own for¬
bearance—does little to increase our opinion of

124

FITZJAMES STEPHEN’S SUMMING-UP

the writer. It Starts by a misstatement, that
Oscar Browning had tried to justify his recent
breach of well-known rules, when all he had done
was to attempt to obtain a relaxation of a rule that
he had not broken, and proceeds to show that the
Head Master was unaware of what was happening
elsewhere in the school on this very matter. How
well founded was Hornby’s belief that Oscar
Browning’s colleagues were keeping the regulations
which he himself had infringed the previous winter
is shown by a letter Wolley-Dod wrote to Browning
shortly after the interview juSt recorded. In this
he says that when he heard a year ago that the rule
of forty pupils was to be Striftly enforced he wrote
to the Head Master explaining that he had forty-
three, and asking leave to keep them. “ As I got no
answer I took it for granted that no objection was
made. I have neither received nor made any further
com m u ni cation on the subj eft until the beginning
of this school-time (September 1875), when in
answer to a circular from the Head Master I wrote
to say that I did not understand that leave had to
be obtained every school-time. ... I have heard
no more of the matter.”

“ The simple faffc,” observed Fitzjames Stephen,
who was closely acquainted with the whole series
of differences between Hornby and Browning,
“ was that Dr. Hornby’s dismissal of Mr. Browning
was a petulant aft, resolved upon under the Stress
of extreme irritation and never really deliberated
upon in the proper sense of the word. Even the
interview might have been supposed to have been
concluded and done with, since there was no
sudden, angry parting or anything of that nature.
Dr. Hornby never aftually dismissed Mr. Browning
during the conversation. On this view his own
words condemn him, for if Mr. Browning by any
words he said did not bring down on himself

I2J

OSCAR BROWNING

aCtual and instant dismissal, even from a man in
an ungovernable rage, how can Dr. Hornby justly
bring forward Mr. Browning’s language as con¬
ducing to his dismissal? It was evidently only
the after-irritation produced by the memory of an
interview in which he was entirely in the wrong,
that caused him to do so.” Knatchbull-Hugessen
also points out the suddenness of Hornby’s decision
to dismiss Oscar Browning in his own Memorial
to the Governing Body. “ If Dr. Hornby,” he
remarks, “ as he says, exercised forbearance towards
Mr. Browning in time past, his letter to me of
September 6, deliberately sanctioning and approving
that my boy should go to Mr. Browning’s house,
implies that such forbearance extended up to that
date and that he had then no intention of getting
rid of Mr. Browning. If, therefore, the charge
against Mr. Browning of £ breach of rules ’ falls
to the ground, it cannot be just or fair that old
offences, if they be offences, which have been
condoned, and for condoning which Dr. Hornby
claims the merit of ‘ forbearance,’ should now be
raked up against Mr. Browning solely in conse¬
quence of an alleged * offence ’ which he has not
committed.” For once in a way Oscar Browning
was technically in the right. No Head Master on
the Stated faCts ever had a weaker case in dis¬
missing an assistant whose length of service was
double his own. That was one reason why rumour
kept on referring to the things that lay behind, and
persisted after O. B. had left Eton in throwing out
hints of the same nature.

IV

Dr. Hornby’s letter, though not altogether un¬
expected, came nevertheless as a very unpleasant
surprise. For the moment it was kept a secret,

126

LORD LYTTELTON’S VIEWS

only one or two other masters who were his intimates
being told in confidence about the Head Master’s
aftion. Besides being an unprecedented Step, there
were doubts whether the Head Master’s powers, as
laid down in the Public Schools A< 9 : of 1868, could
be taken to apply in the case of Oscar Browning,
who had been appointed before the passing of that
Aft. In his answer to Hornby’s letter of dismissal,
which he wrote after consultation with FitzJames
Stephen, he refused to admit that his tenure was
regulated by the Statutes of 1871. “What the
precise legal effeft of this State of things might
be ” he did not, however, at the moment inquire.
But he pointed out that he had reached an age
when it was hardly possible for him to turn to
any other profession, and he could not in justice
to himself and those dependent upon him “ acqui¬
esce in disgrace and ruin ” without using every
lawful means at his disposal to avert them. If,
therefore, he made an appeal to the Governing
Body, his only objeft would be to bring about a
recall of his notice of dismissal, not to attack the
Head Master, with whom he was Still ready to
co-operate “faithfully and honourably.” Hornby
curtiy brushed aside the olive branch, contenting
himself with asserting his right of dismissal. On
his side there was no hint of compromise. In the
meantime Lord Lyttelton, who was the most
influential layman on the Governing Body, had
written to Oscar Browning deeply deploring the
Step Hornby had taken, and saying that he would
tell the Head Master and the ProvoSt his mind.
But he warned him at the same time against follow¬
ing in Hayman’s footsteps and thinking of legal
proceedings.

Early in Oftober Oscar Browning wrote to all
his colleagues at Eton, informing them of his dis¬
missal and offering to show them the correspond-

127

OSCAR BROWNING

ence which had passed between himself and Hornby.
At first public opinion ran Strongly against the
Head Master, and on the morning after the affair
was generally known he was very coldly received in
Chambers by the other masters. The security of
tenure of Assistant Masters in the great public
schools had been placed by the Public Schools
Aft in the discretionary power of the Head Master.
Though there had been cases where Head Masters
had used their power tyrannically, Eton so far had
remained free from this abuse. The evil was
generally recognised by those interested in educa¬
tion. A writer in the Spectator, calling attention
to it, says that it had hitherto been supposed that
Assistant Masters had sufficient security in the good
feeling of the Head Master and the force of public
opinion. “Now,” the correspondent continues,
and he is writing before Oscar Browning’s dis¬
missal from Eton, “ we know the value of this
security. The Head Master may, if he is a selfish
man, calmly and deliberately, or, if he is an im¬
pulsive man, in a freak of ill-temper, work the ruin
of any of his subordinates. He may take from
them their employment and their income and turn
them adrift to begin the world again. And public
opinion will take the matter very quietly.” Inci¬
dents at Rugby, FelSted and various grammar
schools had shown the danger of giving despotic
power to Head Masters, and it was for this reason
that Oscar Browning, with many others, had been
endeavouring to secure the right of appeal for
Assistant Masters in such cases to the Governing
Bodies. He had had himself considerable corre¬
spondence with Grant-Duff and G. O. Trevelyan
on the subjeft. Two years before this, ForSter,
then Secretary of the Board of Education, had
pointed out that although under the Aft an Assistant
Master, if dismissed, had no right of appeal, the

128

THE ASSISTANT MASTERS’ ATTITUDE

Governing Body had the power of dismissing the
Head Master. This proved to be a very accurate
forecast of the position in which Oscar Browning
was subsequently to find himself.

Nearly all his colleagues expressed their sympathy
with warmth, F. E. Durnford, the Lower Master,
one of O. B.’s most inveterate opponents, who had
never allowed any of his boys to frequent Brown¬
ing’s house, being the only one to content him¬
self with formal regrets. J. L. Joynes, the senior
Assistant Master, was “ distressed,” not least at the
thought of Mrs. Browning and her long and
anxious care of the boys. “ Indeed,” he remarks,
“ the whole matter is extremely painful.” Edmond
Warre had received his note with surprise and
regret. “ I was not aware,” he writes, “ that
matters between you and the Head Master had
assumed so serious a phase, and had indeed hoped,
from not having heard anything more of them
lately, that they had been peaceably settled or were
at least quiescent. . . . Personally you and I have
been in many matters antagonistic in opinion, and
no friendship, so to speak, has existed between us.
On the other hand, the Head Master and myself
have always been on friendly terms. But my wish
had always been to Stand aloof on all matters of
disagreement between you and him.” He is anxious
to maintain the same attitude. Nevertheless he
ends with the assurance that the “ news is in no
sense a source of satisfaction but rather of pain
and regret ” to him. T. P. Carter had also heard
the news “ with astonishment and extreme regret,”
and he cannot refrain from saying that in his
opinion the Head Master has at various times shown
less, regard for the feelings and rights of his sub¬
ordinates than he, for one, could have wished.
He adds : “ I could not repose implicit confidence
in his verdicts.” There was almost unanimous

K I29

OSCAR BROWNING

agreement that Hornby’s aftion was likely to pro¬
duce grave evils. Many indeed seem to have
regarded it as a threat rather than an irrevocable
decision. H. W. Mozley, who is of this opinion,
offers to join in any remonstrance Browning’s
colleagues may make, and gives his personal
opinion that Oscar Browning’s departure would
be as great a loss to the school as well could be
imagined. St. John Thackeray advises him to
make “a full apology”; Henry Daman cannot
conceive that anything has happened to warrant
such a proceeding as the Head Master has taken,
and H. Gilbert Wintle, who had that term gone to
Eton as a master, has not forgotten the many kind¬
nesses which he had received at Oscar Browning’s
hands in former times, and feels confident that
Assistant Masters and Old Etonians alike will join
in unanimous approval of his conduct.

Clearly O. B.’s dismissal was a matter which
touched them all. Everyone’s interest was con¬
cerned, and a meeting of masters was called to dis¬
cuss what Steps should be taken. Had there been
any general agreement to make Oscar Browning’s
cause their own. Dr. Hornby would have found
himself in a position from which he could only
have extricated himself by resignation or by with¬
drawing the dismissal. But there were two parties
in the school, and Hornby did not rely in vain on
the division between them. The Hornby party,
headed by War re, first of all managed to secure
the postponement of the meeting for twenty-four
hours, so that when it met the sharp edge of resent¬
ment had already begun to be blunted. And when
it was proposed to submit a resolution calling on
Dr. Hornby for his reasons, one master said that
he would decline to agree to anything of the sort.
Ultimately the meeting, by the votes of forty-four
out of the forty-six present, agreed to a “ memorial ”

130

DR. HORNBY REFUSES MEDIATION

which did no more than deprecate Oscar Browning’s
dismissal. To this Dr. Hornby, who had refused
to meet the masters in a body, returned a non¬
committal answer and the matter, so far as the
Staff was concerned, was at an end.

An attempt had already been made by some of
Oscar Browning’s friends at Eton to secure the
mediation of Dr. BalSton, who had remarked that
if he had ever found it necessary to dismiss an
assistant he would have called a meeting of the
masters and informed them. But Dr. BalSton saw
Hornby and declared that it was useless to ask him
to reconsider his decision. Others also tried. Sir
George Young, not the least distinguished of
Etonians of the ’fifties, told Hornby that whatever
grounds he had for getting rid of Browning he had
absolutely no case for a penal dismissal, and was
astonished to find that the matter had never occurred
to Hornby in that light before. He also expressed
his astonishment to O. B. at having “ ever managed
to quarrel with so easy-going a person.” Chief
Justice Coleridge was another who expressed him¬
self as ready to mediate if the parties wished it.
But Hornby, well aware that so long as he did
nothing his aCtion could not be seriously challenged,
refused the overture.

In the meantime sympathy came from all sides,
from pupils, parents and friends. “ It seems worth
while to suffer a catastrophe if only it enables us to
know what our friends think of us on this side of
the grave. The letters are a credit to human
nature.” Thus, a few months later, wrote William
Johnson, as whose supporter, at a masters’ meeting
three or four years previously, Oscar Browning
had perhaps first incurred the suspicions of the
Head Master. Certainly they are a notable col¬
lection. Frederic Harrison writes : “ I have juSt
heard from Maxse some rumours of an outrage

131

OSCAR BROWNING

with which you have been threatened or assailed
at Eton, and I share his indignation and that of
all honest men at the attempt. I trust whatever
shape it take that it will fail. I will do anything
I can to back you up. . . .1 cannot doubt that
with all your many and powerful friends you will
come out all the Stronger for the attack.” Lord
Morley, then, of course, plain John, says that it
is all very painful and hopes that he will find some
way to avoid leaving Eton. “ To do so will be a
loss to the school and, as you seem to feel, a damage
to yourself. . . . An individual fighting against an
accepted system of school (or other) government is
unluckily placed.” Walter Pater had just met one
of O. B.’s old pupils, enthusiastic in his favour.
“All I can say is, that you know how much I
admired your work at Eton when I was with you
in the summer, and I was very glad to hear, not
for your own sake only but on public grounds,
that you had decided not to leave Eton without a
Struggle.” John Ruskin’s feelings were shown,
when he went to lefture at Eton, by his walking
arm-in-arm with Oscar Browning the whole length
of the Library.

His Eton and Cambridge friends were even more
emphatic. Kegan Paul, once master in College,
then a country parson, afterwards founder of the
well-known publishing firm, was wholly unable to
understand, not only how such charges as Hornby
had made could be substantiated, but under what
Strange misconception they could ever have been
formulated. “ I have never doubted,” he says,
“ that your general influence on Eton was one of
almost unmeasured good.” S. H. Butcher, to
become one day Member for the University, lamented
Browning’s dismissal not merely for his own sake
but for that of Eton. “ You have indeed fought
the battle of culture against an engrossing athleticism

132

WHAT THE PARENTS THOUGHT

or a would-be gentlemanly nonchalance, but you
have done much more. Culture and moral in¬
difference sometimes go together. But I cannot
too Strongly express how much I believe morality
is indebted to you and to your courageous Struggles
against all that was vile, though not always con¬
demned by public opinion. It is easy enough to
utter protests and lamentations, but it is a different
thing to aft, as you have done over and over again
in the face of odium.” And he goes on to dilate
on O. B.’s “ fearless and unflinching moral earnest¬
ness.”

The parents, to whom he had sent a circular
acquainting them with his dismissal, were angry
as well as sympathetic. They had taken unusual
trouble to secure admission for their sons to what
they thought was the best house at Eton, and now
their trouble was not only vain, but they had to
find vacancies for them elsewhere. Lord Ports¬
mouth, three of whose sons were in Browning’s,
declared that he would call a meeting of parents at
the White Hart and head a procession over Windsor
Bridge to the Head Master. He did not carry out
the threat, for ultimately the parents met in London
and petitioned Dr. Hornby that he would recon¬
sider his decision, which if it were carried out
would mean that their sons would be cast adrift
and be either compelled to pass under the care of
other masters not originally selefted by them, or
be forced to leave prematurely, “ to the injury or
absolute destruction of their future prosperity,”
Needless to say the Head Master was unmoved by
these parental outcries and the majority of the
parents began to lose their zeal when it was hinted
to them that if they made a fuss their sons might
indeed be forced to leave prematurely through
finding other houses closed to them.

But William Johnson in his comments was
133

OSCAR BROWNING

thinking rather of the letters Oscar Browning had
received from his pupils, letters which in them¬
selves were sufficient justification of his work at
Eton. “My dear old tutor,” “my very dear
tutor ”—they begin with every mark of affection
and contain every mark of respect. Some might
think that in their insistence on the moral, as well
as the humanistic, qualities which their tutor’s
influence conveyed, they err perhaps on the side
of priggishness. But one remembers the charge,
or at least the suspicion, of impiety which was
attributed to Oscar Browning by his enemies and
finds justification for their attitude. “ You have
not only had the intelle&ual, you have also had
the moral good of the boys at heart, and I believe
that no one has exerted himself more to lessen the
prevalence of vice at Eton.” Thus wrote a Balliol
scholar, himself afterwards to become a distinguished
Eton master. Many others destined to become
famous were amongst those who supported him
whole-heartedly. Alfred Lyttelton, the glory of
Eton, his brother Edward, who was to succeed
Dr. Warre as Head Master, Mr. Gerald Balfour,
Selwyn the future Head of Uppingham, Bishop
Welldon, who had left Eton two years previously
and was now in the middle of a brilliant career at
Cambridge—these were some of the young men
who felt that a gross injustice had been committed
and ardently wished to see it redressed. Perhaps
the most impressive expression of sympathy,
because it is not prompted by any feeling of
personal affeCtion, is one from F. W. Maitland,
afterwards to breathe new life into the dry bones
of early constitutional history and to revivify the
Study of the origins of English common law.
Maitland, who was never O. B.’s pupil, writes:
“The conduct of the Head Master is to me in¬
explicable. He surely must be able to see that a

134

THE HEAD MASTER IMMOVABLE

man may be a good schoolmaster though he be
neither an athlete nor a pedant. However, happily
it is not my place to make excuses for him. I will
only say (what I never should have said to you
except in circumstances as the present) that you
were one of the very few masters who attempted
to give me an interest in reading as opposed to
cramming, and that is a debt which I cannot
forget. . . .”

Oscar Browning had no lack of friends. Fore¬
most amongst them then, and not less his intimate
nearly half a century later, was Lord Latymer, then
Francis Money, who afterwards took the name of
Coutts and later exchanged that of Money for
Burdett. He asks him to come and live in London
and to allow him to help in any work he under¬
takes. “ I should like to write a book and publish
it,” he says, “ about the things of Eton in reference
to you only,” though the opinion he held in the
generosity of his youth was so far changed by the
caution of age as to lead him to advise his
o&ogenarian friend not to revive “ a sad Story.”
But for O. B. neither friends nor the consciousness
that he was entirely in the right, a feeling, by the
way, which also sustained Dr. Hornby through the
whole affair, was to prove of any avail against the
machinery which had been set in motion against
him. Dr. Hornby had only to sit tight and do
nothing, and Oscar Browning and his “ powerful
friends,” however they might Storm, were unable
to win a single point.

In the meantime the whole business was dis¬
cussed in all its bearings in the little world that is
Eton. The “ reprobates ” amongst the boys were
glad that his sun was setting. A good many of
the masters looked forward to the peaceful days
when Oscar Browning would be removed to some
other sphere, and some of the highly placed ladies

135

OSCAR BROWNING

in Eton society were said to be rejoicing that Mrs.
Browning would no longer overshadow them with
her charm and her malicious wit. The affair seems
indeed to have become almost an obsession, and
Dr. Farrar, when early in November he preached a
sermon in Eton Chapel on Saul, was thought to
have been inspired by the topic of the hour.
This draws from him a “ private and confidential ”
letter of protest to Oscar Browning. To have
done such a thing, he points out, would have been
in glaringly bad taSte. As a matter of fad:, it was
an old Marlborough sermon. He had intended to
preach on Belshazzar’s warning, but a Marlborough
friend had said, “ * Do preach that sermon on Saul
and the Philistines,’ his reason being not Eton
affairs, of which he knows nothing, but the fad
that the concluding pages on self-reverence as sons
of God would be useful.” The thing has pained
him very much and he gives it his “ surprised,
unqualified and indignant denial.”

Even the local shopkeepers took sides. “ Dear
sir,” one signing himself a Slough Tradesman
writes. “ Having Seen The Dictation you are
Subjeded to the Thought Forced into My Mind
That A Good House at Upton Slough Near The
Old Church Belonging To The Nixey Family his
Now Vacant and Would make a fine Seminary and
Home.”

V

There was nothing to be done except to appeal
to the Governing Body. Oscar Browning there¬
fore drew up a memorial in which he recounted
the dory of his more recent relations with the
Head Mader, printed the correspondence which
had passed between them, and ended by sub¬
mitting a twofold requed, to prevent Dr. Hornby
from “ illegally ” interfering with the discharge of

136

ATTITUDE OF THE GOVERNING BODY

his duties “ as a master of Eton College not liable
to dismissal by him at pleasure ” (this was based
on his plea that he had been appointed under the
old Statutes), and if they declined to comply with
this, to interfere, as the ultimate authority, to
prevent the Head Master from making an oppressive
use of his powers. Fitzjames Stephen, it should
be said, had given it as his considered opinion that
Dr. Hornby had no tight to dismiss Browning at
all except as agent for Eton College, and the College
had no right to dismiss him, except for misconduct,
without reasonable notice. The Governing Body
could, however, if it thought proper, adopt the
Head Master’s aft.

The Governing Body was placed in something
of a quandary. It could not in any case intervene
direftly in the dispute. Supposing that the weight
of opinion had been on Oscar Browning’s side, all
it could have done would have been to force Dr.
Hornby’s resignation, which in itself would not
have reinstated his vidim. In faft the majority on
the Governing Body were ready to support the
Head Master. He and Dr. Goodford were on
very different terms now compared with two years
previously, when Oscar Browning had led a party
amongst the masters to back Dr. Hornby against
the constant interference of the ProvoSt. At the
same time O. B. had two or three influential friends
on the Governing Body who were anxious that he
should be treated with all possible consideration.
They were supported by a strong element of liberal
feeling outside Eton, which considered that Oscar
Browning had been made a scapegoat for his
reforming zeal. Even the more conservative mem¬
bers of the Governing Body saw that the dismissal
of a popular and successful master required some
sort of justification.

137

OSCAR BROWNING

VI

In addition to Oscat Browning’s memorial, the
Governing Body was presented with a long and
closely reasoned complaint by Knatchbull-Hugessen.
In this he went over the ground which is already
familiar to anyone who has read the account of
this Strange case, pointing out that Browning had
broken no rule and that he had done nothing more
than give legitimate expression to a desire to obtain
the relaxation of a rule, which was a totally different
thing. Earnestly and not without many italics he
asked for a fair consideration of the case. He sent
also a copy of the correspondence which had passed
between him and Dr. Hornby, in which the Head
Master seems unaware of the sorry figure he is
cutting. Knatchbull-Hugessen was a person of
some weight. He was chairman of the South-
Eastern Railway, a Member of Parliament, and was
subsequently raised to the peerage. Since it was
over the affair of his son that the dispute had arisen,
he considered himself in some measure responsible
and made it his duty to try and find out the precise
grounds on which Hornby had come to his decision
to dismiss Oscar Browning.

In this correspondence he begins by pointing out
that on September 6 Hornby had written that if
there was no misunderstanding about Browning’s
list all would go smoothly, and he for one would
be very glad of it. If, as Knatchbull-Hugessen
observed, the Head Master had entertained the
idea on September 6 of getting rid of Browning,
the words would have been scarcely ingenuous in
themselves and very unfair and misleading to him
personally as a parent. Therefore the cause of the
Head Master’s decision must be found in some¬
thing which happened between September 6 and 16,
and he hoped, since in so short a time it could

138

KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN’S INTERVENTION

hardly have been anything but trifling, that the
matter might be amicably arranged. The Head
Master answers that on September 6 he did not
foresee this rupture. “ The point, of course, is
simply this—is his dismissal right or wrong ? ”
and Hornby, with that soundness on moral questions
which he shares with Dr. Skinner of the Shrews¬
bury of fidion, has “ no doubt whatever what
answer would be given to this question by any
impartial person who knew the fads.”

The fads, Knatchbull-Hugessen answers, the
fads—that is exadly what we all want to know.
There are clear and definite charges of offences
committed by Oscar Browning of the nature of
which he himself is ignorant. If that is so, why
not submit them to some person above suspicion
of partiality, such as Spencer Walpole ?

Hornby sees that he has made a mistake, has
weakened his position in referring to 5 ‘ fads.” So
he avers that the reasons of dismissal are set out in
his letter of September 16, and as for the “ feeling ”
against Browning, which he has admitted to
Knatchbull-Hugessen before now both in con¬
versation and writing, it is not “ malicious or
unworthy,” but merely a “ moral disapprobation.”
And he goes on to say that he cannot burke his
responsibility and admit the matter to outside
mediation. He must take the burden of this
“ most painful ad ” alone.

Very true, answers Knatchbull-Hugessen in effed.
Naturally there is nothing malicious about your
feeling. Still you have admitted certain senti¬
ments which may have insensibly led you to put a
conStrudion upon words and adions of Brown¬
ing’s which they would not bear in the eyes of
others who have not that prejudice. Of course
you may have fads in reserve which put a wholly
different complexion on the whole affair. But if

139

OSCAR BROWNING

so they have never been made known. “ If you
refuse all mediation,” he adds, “ I must fairly and
openly tell you that I shall feel bound to take every
Step in my power to secure for Browning the
reversal of the sentence passed upon him, or at
leagt the opportunity of vindicating his character
before the world.” In a further letter he remarks
that if necessary he will introduce a Bill into Parlia¬
ment to amend the Public Schools Aft, and so take
the opportunity of Stating Oscar Browning’s case
in the House of Commons. “ All this could do
no good to Eton and would be very disagreeable.”
But he sees no escape for it if the Head Master is
inflexible.

Hornby’s moral sense was roused by this.
Threats, he says, make it now quite impossible,
even if it had been possible before, to hold out
any hope of a reversal of Browning’s dismissal.
“ I pity the man indeed,” he writes, “ who binds
himself hand and foot in such a way as this and
fears to face full inquiry into his conduft. Of
course there is an evil in having Eton affairs dis¬
cussed, but the public soon gets tired of mere
mud-throwing, especially if done with a wrongful
motive.” He adds in a postscript to what he
apologises for as a “ haSty letter” : “I cannot
understand why, if Browning and his friends really
think there is anything frightful which needs dis¬
closure, they should not desire to have it made.
I would far rather in such a case have the truth
out. I have never lived under any fear of dis¬
closures and trust I never shall.” To which
Knatchbull-Hugessen answers that his letter is
absolutely unintelligible. “ So far from fearing
to have full inquiry into his conduft, that is pre¬
cisely what I understand Browning to desire.
There must be some Strange misunderstanding
somewhere.”

140

THE GOVERNING BODY’S DECISION

There was, however, to be no such investiga¬
tion, or categorical Statement of charges, as Oscar
Browning had demanded. The Governing Body
when it met never even discussed whether it
had competence to enter on the question of the
Head Master’s dealings with the Assistant Masters.
There seems to have been some discussion whether
or not Dr. Hornby’s resignation should also be
demanded, some members of the Governing Body,
including Dr. Thompson, the Master of Trinity,
John Hibbert and possibly Spencer Walpole,
favouring this Step, whilst Lord Lyttelton was
notoriously critical of Dr. Hornby’s regime. But
whatever passed, the only decision taken was to
ask the Head Master for a Statement of the circum¬
stances under which he had resolved on dismissal.
The Governing Body then adjourned for four days
till it had been received. This was in no sense a
victory for Oscar Browning. The Statement was
duly drawn up and presented, but its contents
were not divulged, and though he formally asked
both the ProvoSt and the Head Master to see a copy,
as Dr. Hornby had seen copies of the documents
he had submitted to the Governing Body, his
request was refused. When the Governing Body
met after its adjournment, it decided that no case
existed for aftion on its part. It was this refusal of
Dr. Hornby to divulge the charges he had brought
against Oscar Browning that caused the most
influential of the weekly papers to observe that
Dr. Hornby “ can hardly be surprised if he chances
to meet with some hard words which are ordinarily
used against those who Stab in the dark.”

VII

The decision of the Governing Body led to
Knatchbull-Hugessen’s writing to The Tims, much

141

OSCAR BROWNING

to the scandal of old-fashioned Etonians, who
deplored the affairs of their school being discussed
in the “ public prints.” Once more he Stated the
facts of the dismissal, to be answered by an
anonymous correspondent who attacked Oscar
Browning with all the courage a pen-name inspires.
J. L. Joynes, anxious to be on the side of the big
battalions, wrote to point out that the master’s
Memorial to Dr. Hornby had “ carefully disclaimed
expressing any opinion on the merits of the case.”
A leading article, whilst regretting that the matter
should have been made public, said that the account
of the interview between Dr. Hornby and Mr.
Browning “ afforded the public a singular view of
the social relations possible in a great public school,
when such expressions as are alleged to have been
used, fly about casually.” It descended, however,
from its pinnacle of superiority on the side of
authority, said that Mr. Browning showed a very
troublesome disposition to violate rules, and finally
observed that “ these exhibitions of temper between
masters of schools on trumpery points of profit”
were the worst possible example to the boys.

The thing became as near being a Press “ Stunt ”
as the demure manners of Fleet Street in 1875 would
allow. That November there was little news.
The sinking of the Thunderer was beginning to be
forgotten, and India was too remote for much
interest to be taken in the Prince’s visit. For a
day or two Oscar Browning and a small boy of
six who had been taken up in Liverpool for being
drunk and disorderly held the attention of the
public between them. Papers took Sides according
to their political bias. The Times and the Morning
Post backed authority, the Daily Nem supported
Oscar Browning, the Daily Telegraph shook its
head and deplored “ the idleness, extravagance and
luxury of Eton.” Hard words were visited on all.

142

COMMENTS OF THE PRESS

The public was told of the deplorable scenes of
cabals and intrigues among the Eton masters. It
was informed that the Public Schools Ad had
really made those places of education less efficient
than before, that the Governing Bodies with which
“ Parliament afflided the great public schools of
England had done little but mischief since they
came into being.” The prosperity of Eton, one
paper remarked, had never been greater, but that
was “ because the prestige of Eton is extraordinary
and because the first thing which a nouveau riche
does, to give his children caSte, is to send his sons
to Eton.” Though a good deal of water has
flowed beneath Windsor Bridge since then, and
all the principals in this controversy have passed
to other, and perhaps more charitable places, Eton
Still remains true to itself.

And all the time whilst the pros and the cons
were being argued in the clubs and in the Press
there was an undercurrent of gossip which some¬
times emerged into print. It was impossible that
Oscar Browning could have been dismissed on the
published fails. There must be more behind.
What was it ? A raising of the eyebrows, a shrug
of the shoulders could convey columns of in¬
nuendo. Dr, Hornby himself had litde control
over his tongue. He said things without refleftion.
He even wrote things, things which appeared to
give authority to the rumours which continued to
circulate. He ended by writing a letter to Ainger
which Fitzjames Stephen declared was libellous,
and prompted ,O. B. for many months to nurse the
idea of bringing an aition for damages against
Hornby in the courts.

Oscar Browning’s friends were anxious that
these rumours and this gossip should be scotched.
Hornby, when he was approached by those who
had observed an attitude of neutrality, declared

i43

OSCAR BROWNING

that he could not Stop the idle talk of people, and
that the remedy of publishing a full Statement
would not, in his opinion, tend to diminish it.
It was then proposed that Oscar Browning should
apply for a pension which the Governing Body had
power to grant to any master who had been more
than fifteen years at Eton. If this were given it
would be in itself an answer to malicious reports.
It was felt too that it would only be an aft of bare
justice that Oscar Browning should not be turned
adrift from Eton with only the slender means of
subsistence which his King’s Fellowship gave him.
Public opinion at Eton, which had been divided
on the merits of the controversy between Hornby
and Browning, was in this matter unanimously
on Browning’s side, and a petition was addressed
by the masters to the Governing Body praying that
a pension might be accorded him. In the attempt
to secure the support of the Head Master in this
not unreasonable request, and to clear Oscar Brown¬
ing of the aspersions that were being made about
him, Ainger, always one of O. B.’s moSt loyal
colleagues, wrote to Hornby.

“ My dear Ainger,” ran the reply, “ I am sorry
for Browning, but I cannot possibly say that I
do not think ill of his charafter. I have not
charged him with immorality in the ordinary sense
of the word. His own admissions have proved
evidence enough against him as regards want of
truthfulness, and this though his Statement omits
and distorts things in his favour as far as possible.
Public opinion is clearly dead againSt him already;
what would it be if the whole truth were known ?
A pension is utterly out of the question. I do not
want to press hard upon a man in trouble, but I
cannot help Browning in the way you suggest.
The more I say, I am afraid, the worse his case
would be. I have said as little as I possibly could

144

LORD LYTTELTON’S ADVICE

help saying and nothing of any doubtful kind of
which I have not full proof.” Lord Lyttelton,
who was shown the letter by Mrs. Browning, wrote
at once to advise O. B. to make a formal demand
of Hornby in writing for a full Statement of the
charges to which he alluded, and to lay it before
the Governing Body for their next meeting. The
Governing Body, however, did not deviate from
the policy it had already adopted. The reply about
the pension was that they were precluded from
taking the claim into consideration. Oscar Brown¬
ing received no more enlightenment than before
on the question of the offences with which he
was charged. After the meeting Lord Lyttelton
writes again: “ What moves me to write, is that
I do Still feel able and bound to repeat to you
that I fully admit no one would sit down under such
imputations as are conveyed and insinuated in
Hornby’s letter of November 19, charges which
are only very partially explained and retraced
subsequently. I conceive you are, and will be,
fully justified in doing all you can to have every¬
thing in that letter fully and publicly investigated.”
But though O. B. toyed with the idea, the advice
of another friend, who counselled him not to bring
an action, “ neu matris validos in viscera vertite
vires,” prevailed.

So concludes the story of Oscar Browning’s
career at Eton. The two great requisites in a
Head Master, the Rev. R. H. Quick has observed,
are energy and sympathy with the Staff. By the
standards of that eminent educationist, Dr. J. J.
Hornby can lay no claim to the second quality, and
every account of Eton under his rule shows his
deficiency in energy. Oscar Browning too had his
faults. He was impetuous in giving expression to
his feelings, impatient of the routine which is
the schoolmaster’s way of letting off Steam and
l 145

OSCAR BROWNING

preventing himself from thinking, careless, though
not probably more careless than many other school¬
masters, about business matters. But any man of
Strong chara&er has defe&s proportionate in scale
to his virtues. It is these that matter. And to
these qualities in Oscar Browning, Hornby was
blind. He was fated to remain Head Master for
another nine years. During that time the discipline
of the school Steadily deteriorated, to be restored
under the capable hand of Edmond Warre, of
Warre whom O. B. had looked upon at Eton as his
rival, but who, as he always realised, was a far
Stronger and abler man than Hornby.

There can be no doubt that Oscar Browning
never really got over the shock of his dismissal
from Eton. In x 920 he writes to a former colleague
who had published a book about Eton : “ You are
too favourable to Hornby. Writing at the age of
eighty-four, forty-five years after being dismissed
from Eton, I can honestly say that I never in my
life met a man of more despicable and contemptible
character. His treatment of me, as I look back on
it, was unpardonable, although I was very glad to
go. I was, as you say, one of the most popular
masters of the school and certainly one of the most
successful. My house was full for five years to
come, and in some instances boys were entered for
it as soon as they were bom. I was dismissed
at three months’ notice on the charge of having
broken a rule which I had never broken and had
incurred considerable loss by keeping. My income
was reduced from £3000 to £300 a year. My
mother, to whom the school was under deep
obligations, was turned on to the Streets at the age
of seventy-five, my named branded as an enemy of
Eton, and you know what that means, and Warre,
who was the real cause of my dismissal, continued
his vindictive jealousy till the day of his death.”

146

CHAPTER IX

THE AFTERMATH

I

When Oscar Browning left Eton at Christmas,
1875, there was anger in his heart and the desire for
vengeance. He wanted to go to law, to sue
Hornby, to obtain the rehabilitation of swingeing
damages, to have his case brought up in Parliament,
in short, to leave no Stone unturned in letting the
world know how disgracefully he had been treated.
It was of the utmost importance that his character
should be cleared and the true Story of his dismissal
made known. All that winter while he was abroad
with four Eton boys he toyed with the idea of
bringing an aftion against Hornby. But Fitz-
James Stephen gave him little encouragement; for
he pointed out that the Head Master undoubtedly
had absolute power of dismissal with reasonable
notice, and on a trial on the question of what was
reasonable notice, no faffs about O. B.’s character
and life at Eton could have been elicited, whereas
on a suit for libel no damages could have been
obtained unless “ special ” damage, apart from the
loss of his Eton mastership, could have been proved
—which was doubtful. Besides, a lawsuit would
have been costly, and O. B. had no money, whilst
as he explained in a letter to a friend, he “ shrank
from the effedt on the school which litigation might
have produced.” And finally he found that in the
“ public estimation ” his charafter had been in no
way impaired. On the whole, therefore, he decided

147

OSCAR BROWNING

not without relu&ance on leaving the matter as it
Stood.

So the question was at length closed in the follow¬
ing April with a debate in the House of Commons
when Knatchbull-Hugessen brought forward a
motion that a seledfc committee be appointed to
consider whether any alteration was desirable in
the existing relations between the Governing
Bodies, the Head Masters and the Assistant Masters
of the seven schools under the operation of the
Public Schools Aft of 1868. Throughout the
affair Knatchbull-Hugessen, whose son had been
the occasion of O. B.’s dismissal, had worked for
him, and now he carried out the threat he had made
to Dr. Hornby in the previous Oftober of bringing
the case before the notice of Parliament if all other
remedies failed. Knatchbull-Hugessen did not
spare his rhetoric. It was a Strange anomaly, he
said, that those who doubtless wished their sons
to inherit that freedom of thought which English¬
men prized as their most cherished possession had
been content that the men to whom they entrusted
the education of these sons should be obliged to
submit to a system under which their tongues were
tied, their very thoughts suppressed and their
independence crushed out beneath the pressure of a
degrading thraldom. Such had been the experi¬
ence of Oscar Browning, who to that hour was
unaware, as his friends too were unaware, of the real
reasons for his dismissal. There should be, there¬
fore, he urged, some appeal from the Head Master,
or at least some check on the Head Master’s un¬
limited power to dismiss any member of his Staff.
In support of his arguments he brought forward a
petition signed by masters at seven of the Public
Schools, including sixteen signatures from Eton, and
quoted a letter from Dr. Montagu Butler, then
Head Master of Harrow, warmly upholding the

148

OSCAR BROWNING

After a medallion by William Story in the
possession of Mrs. N. B. Balnbridye

QUESTION DEBATED IN PARLIAMENT

cause of the Assistant Masters. The debate was
perhaps chiefly remarkable for the fa£t that amongst
those who spoke on the side of Oscar Browning and
the “ helots of English education ” was Lord
Balfour, then a private member of some two years’
Standing. Spencer Walpole opposed the motion,
and since, as one of the papers observed, the
“•Rugby question (when Dr. Hayman, the Head
Master, had been compelled to retire after a quarrel
with one of his Staff) had left in Tory minds a feeling
unfavourable to Assistant Masters,” the debate was
not pressed to a division.

II

The best way for Oscar Browning to prevent the
past from rankling was to forget it, to forget that
such a place as Eton existed. When he had gone
into residence at Cambridge he wrote to his mother
to say that he wanted to hear nothing of Eton.
“ If it prospers,” he said, “ I shall put it down to the
good effects of my work there; if not, to the way
it treated me.” His mother did not take this too
seriously, and since she continued to live at Windsor
she was able to keep him well informed of what was
going on. And O. B. soon forgot his own resolu¬
tions and told her of anything Etonian that bore
on his case: “ Donaldson said to Welldon,” he
wrote, for instance, two or three years later, “ that
he attributed the decline in numbers at Eton to the
effect of my leaving, which was juSt beginning to
make itself felt.” And naturally his letters to her
were full of references to his old Eton pupils,
who of themselves would have effectually prevented
him from attaining that Lethe of oblivion, so far
as Eton was concerned, which he had professed to
desire.

There was another thing too which made it more
149

OSCAR BROWNING

difficult to forget the past. Rumours kept on
coming to his ears, whisperings that there was
more in his dismissal from Eton than appeared on
the surface. Cambridge, so far as it was interested
at all, took his part. Oxford inclined to the side of
Hornby. In any case the tranquillity he desired was
disturbed by gossip. He had not been long at
King’s when he hears that Edmond Warre had said
“ to at least one person, and probably to more,”
that he had not been dismissed from Eton for the
reasons Dr. Hornby had ostensibly assigned to the
Governing Body. O. B. accordingly wrote to the
alleged author of this slander, who replied: “ I do
not think that I have said anything which is untrue
concerning you, or anything intended to injure
you. I need hardly say that I should have been
very sorry to have done so.” O. B. also persuaded
John Addington Symonds to find out from Jowett
—both Hornby and Warre being Balliol men—
whether he had heard anything of a libellous nature
about him, but Symonds reported that though
Jowett sympathised with Hornby in the matter,
the Master had not heard anything derogatory to
his moral character.

When O. B. went shortly afterwards to Stay with
Walter Pater at Brasenose, he found indeed that
nothing could exceed the kindness of his reception by
everybody, dons and undergraduates alike. “ I really
think,” he wrote, “ that the tide is turning and that
people are beginning to find out the real nature of
my dismissal from Eton and are taking sides
accordingly. I am constantly meeting with proofs
of it.” In the Street he had run into Warre, who
was up in Oxford preaching in Balliol and had
taken “ the opportunity of cutting him.” It was
not a very bold cut, however. “ I did not look at
him,” he told his mother, “ because I thought he
might be impertinent enough to come across to

150

RECONCILIATION WITH DR. HORNBY

me. When I think of all you are suffering it is
impossible that I can forgive him.” If O. B. when
at Eton had Steered his course, as his friends advised,
with a moderation inspired by his responsibilities
towards her, such sentiments would ring more
true, but they would be less characteristic. The
egoist and the idealist, however, jostled each other
here as always with O. B., and in the next sentence
we see him, after visiting the rooms of W. R. Paton,
one of his old pupils, and finding them littered with
the latest books in French, German and Spanish,
lamenting that the machinery which had turned
out this sort of a boy was for ever smashed.

Yet there was nothing really vindictive in O. B.’s
nature, and it began to grow irksome to him that
he was not on speaking terms with Hornby. They
ran into each other occasionally at Harrow Speech
Days or at meetings, and finally he decided to
break the silence. The opportunity at length
occurred, and he told his mother about it with some
complacency. “A great event happened to me
yesterday. I shook hands with Mrs. Hornby and
Dr. Hornby. Since I met him at Marlborough
House, one or two people have said to me that I
should be putting myself in a superior position with
regard to him if I spoke to him the next time we
met. Yesterday at a Garden Party at Lambeth,
finding them in the corridor, I shook hands, first
with Mrs. and then with him. He was very
cordial and friendly. She seemed rather * out of
it,’ that is, she walked on whilst I spoke to him. I
felt very much pleased afterwards, and I am sure
that I have done the right thing.” His mother did
not share his satisfaction. “ It is a Chi-tifrian
virtue to forgive those who have injured you,” she
said. “ But I am sure that Mrs. Hornby afterwards
called him a fool.”

He might be on speaking terms again with
151

OSCAR BROWNING

Hornby, but this did not, of course, alter his
opinion of his character or abilities. The death of
Dr. Goodford in 1884 left the ProvoStship vacant,
and much to O. B.’s disguSt Dr. Hornby was
appointed. “ I am very sorry,” he wrote to his
mother, “ because I had hoped for something better.
It shows that the Eton party is too Strong and that
there is no real or efficient desire to see the school
reformed.” He was not alone in his surprise. A
few days later he told her that he had met his old
pupil, Gerald Balfour, who said that he “ had been
quite ill since he had heard of Hornby’s appoint¬
ment.” O. B. goes on to moralise. “ Success,”
he said, “ cannot alter the foundations of right and
wrong. It is marvellous to me that a man whom
I respect as much as I respeft Gladstone should have
made so serious a blunder.” When he attacked
one of Gladstone’s private secretaries about the
scandal of the appointment, he was told that
Hornby had asked for the post and had intimated
that he would not resign unless it was given to
him. In such circumstances, the secretary argued,
it was surely a good service to Eton to place Dr.
Hornby in the position where he could do least
harm to the school; but O. B. disapproved of
this justification of the practice of kicking upstairs.

It seemed certain now that Warre would become
the new Head Master, and Mrs. Browning, from
her post of observation in Windsor was able to tell
Oscar, not without a certain spice of malice, how
all were paying court to the rising Star and how they
foresaw at Eton the advent of another golden age.
There may have been malice too in her suggestion
that O. B. should Stand. But if that was impossible,
there was no reason why he should not do what he
could to prevent the disaster that Warre’s appoint¬
ment would be to Eton. The beSt candidate
obviously was Dr. Welldon, then Master of Dulwich,

152

O. B. AND WARRE

and O. B. did “ everything in his power ” to get him
made Head Master. He took him as his gueSt to
the Eighty Club dinner, where Gladstone shook
hands with them both, and it seemed as if there
really might be a chance that Liberal principles
would triumph for once at Eton. Needless to say
his hopes were unfulfilled, and Edmond Warre was
elefted without the Governing Body so much as
discussing the claims of any other candidate. “ A
great calamity,” was O. B.’s comment; “ how great
only the future can show.”

With Dr. Warre too there was a partial reconcilia¬
tion. On one of his rare visits to Cambridge he
called on O. B. and they appear to have chatted
amiably. But the old animosities were not to
be so easily Stilled, as O. B.’s account of a
Founder’s Day FeaSt at King’s, at which Warre
was a gueSt, shows : “ Warre was here and made
what everyone thought was a very bad speech.
In fad I don’t think that he created much of an
impression. I was called on suddenly to speak
and received a most warm and affedionate greeting
from the undergraduates which lasted several
minutes. I looked at Warre whilst it was go ing
on and he seemed extremely disgusted.” Relations
once more became Strained between them over an
invitation which O. B. received from the President
of the Eton Literary Society—the Society which
he had founded—to ledure before it. This re¬
habilitation as an Etonian gave him great pleasure
and he accepted the invitation with alacrity. The
date for the ledure was fixed, and O. B. after some
hesitation had chosen George Eliot for his subjed,
for one thing because he had recently delivered one
on that novelist and it was ready to hand, and for
another because her teaching contained great
ethical and moral qualities. But difficulties arose.
The ledure had to be postponed. It was getting

*53

OSCAR BROWNING

near the end of the Easter half. There -was no
other convenient date. Finally, O. B. became sus¬
picious and made inquiries, from which he gathered
that the Provost and the Head Master were opposed
to his coming. He wrote to both. Dr. Hornby
replied that he had no power of veto over the
lectures of the Literary Society, but that being asked
his opinion he had said that he thought he ought
not to lefture at Eton. With Dr. Warre there was
a longer correspondence in which O. B. considered
he had “ scored.” And when his mother advised
him to have no more to do with them, he agreed,
adding that they were “ a cowardly and ungrateful
set of people.”

Ill

But it was easier for his mother to give this advice
than for Oscar Browning to follow it. He might
say that he looked on his time at Eton as an “ un¬
pleasant duty” which he had performed on the
whole better than he could have expe&ed, and that
if he were to return he would pursue the same
course as he had pursued before. He had done
nothing to regret, nothing he could wish undone.
And as he went over in his mind the history of his
career at Eton and its many controversies, one thing
Stood out as inexplicable—Hornby’s attitude over
George Curzon. Other things he might forget,
but he could not forget how Hornby had mis¬
understood his motives in what was his most
successful example of scientific pedagogics. So
when Curzon made his maiden speech in the House
of Commons, a speech which at once drew pro¬
phecies that a new Conservative Statesman had
entered the political world, Oscar Browning wrote
to Dr. Hornby, going once more at length over
the events which had caused him “ some of the

i54

O. B. TELLS HORNBY ABOUT CURZON

acuteSt pain ” he had ever experienced. This
recital of a twelve-year-old controversy threw no
new light upon it, and indeed O. B. confessed at its
close that “ the only reason ” he had for writing
such a narration was that the matter had been much
in his mind “ in the laSt weeks,” and he thought it
possible that Dr. Hornby might never have known
all.the fafts. Besides, so long a time had now
elapsed since their occurrence that O. B. could now
“ think and write of them with a calmness which
some time before would have been impossible.”
But Dr. Hornby was not to be drawn into the dis¬
cussion of the pa§t, even when it could be viewed
with calmness. He answered briefly and with
polite coolness. “ I am sorry to say that your letter
does not mend matters. I am very unwilling to
revive old controversies, but I feel bound in justice
to Wolley-Dod to say that your language with
regard to him is unjustifiable. I wish you knew
him better. George Curzon is, I think, a much
Stronger man than you imagine.”

D5

PART II

CAMBRIDGE

CHAPTER X

THE NEW KING’S

I

In September 1876, Oscar Browning went into
residence at King’s, where he was to remain for a
third of a century leading what he called the un¬
natural life of a don. He had no tutorial fun&ions
in the College, which then was small, consisting of
less than fifty undergraduates, and he had nothing
to live upon except his Fellowship, then worth
about £300 a year, but to drop afterwards during
the hard times of agriculture during the ’eighties
to less than half that amount. This and what he
could make by lecturing and writing were in¬
sufficient to gratify taStes that he himself com¬
placently described as extravagant, let alone to pay
his Eton debts. For these friends came to his
assistance. But during the rest of his life he was
fated to be more or less continually in want of
money, and when he died the value of his estate
did not exceed two hundred pounds.

There were compensations, however, for the
“ poverty and obscurity ” into which he had fallen.
He had already been assured of a warm welcome
from his friends in King’s and Trinity, yet the
cordiality of his reception agreeably surprised him.
King’s was Still very closely allied with Eton, and
he had feared that the jealousy and spite which had
pursued him there might continue to do so at
Cambridge. Of these he found “ no trace what¬
ever.” Everybody, on the contrary, made a point

159

OSCAR BROWNING

of being kind. They drank champagne in Hall
on the evening of his arrival, and Henry Bradshaw,
the most distinguished member of the College,
who invited him to his rooms afterwards, told him
that his coming up opened a new era for King’s.
The ProvoSt, Dr. Okes, who had been a reformer
in the ’forties but had now settled into a caustic
conservatism, alone was cool and reserved. Yet
even the old ProvoSt after a few weeks “ is gradually
growing civil,” a fa£t which Oscar Browning
records to his mother with some pride. With
Whitting he was very friendly. Nixon he regarded
as a fellow-reformer. During his years at Eton
O. B. had always supported the measures of W. R.
Churton, who had for many years been Dean of
the College, for the liberalising of King’s, and with
Augustus Austen Leigh he had enjoyed a friendship
cemented by common Struggles in the past for the
future of King’s about which they had common
views. G. W. Prothero he found “ very pleasant
and agreeable.” And at Trinity his two intimates,
Henry Sidgwick and Richard Jebb, were as delight¬
ful as they had always been and made him recall
the happiness of his undergraduate days. Alto¬
gether there was a geniality and an intelleftual
freedom most refreshing after the Stuffy atmosphere
of Eton under the tyrant Hornby. Even the
Cambridge climate was bracing by contrast. “ As
far as I can see,” he writes after he has been at
Cambridge a week, “ my work here will be every¬
thing I hoped and expefted—only I shall make no
money,” and he comforts himself with the refle&ion
that the want of money is the least of evils.

Indeed for the ascetic life he meant to lead the
lack of it would be a positive advantage. He began
at once to order it as he had planned. He awoke
at five, six or seven, read till breakfast at 8.30, then
worked till luncheon at 1.30, which consisted

160

THE SCHOLAR’S STUDIOUS LIFE

of a “ plate of soup and a cigarette.” A walk
followed. At five he went to Chapel, where he
generally read the lessons. , After Hall, which was
at six, he spent the evenings in the diversions of a
don, in reading Goethe, or in some other intel¬
lectual pursuit. Such was the methodical existence
he had planned, and his one regret at the first was
that mor nin g Chapel, which he had been looking
forward to, had not yet begun, so that his day, in
this respeCt, was Still incomplete. But the change
from the restless and exciting life of an Eton master
to the Studious calm of the historian, which for the
future was to be his, was not to be so easily com¬
passed. He could not accommodate himself at
once to the Cambridge habits of dining late, of
drinking wine and of going to bed after midnight.
It was difficult also to settle down “ in the ways of
the place and read Steadily every morning.” He was
nervous too about his le&ures. Lecturing to
undergraduates was a very different thing from
lecturing to schoolboys. On this point he soon
reassured himself, possibly without sufficient justi¬
fication, for from the Start he had twenty men
attending them, and they “ appeared to be in¬
terested.”

His mother, knowing his character, was afraid
that in the absence of routine work he might become
idle. The reputation for idleness, she reminds him.
Still clings to the Fellows of King’s. He tells her
in reply that there is not the least chance of this,
though as to reputation that must be left to take
care of itself. His mother’s “ one wish ” to see
him famous may or may not be realised; in any case
fame “ cometh not by observation.” Still he
realises that he needs a basis if he is to establish his
reputation as a historian, if only in Cambridge, and
both Sidgwick and Jebb have impressed upon
him the necessity of writing a book, so he is going
m 161

OSCAR BROWNING

to begin on a history of George I. For the moment
he is writing an article on Bulgaria for the Academy.

II

Ten years before this he had remarked to Arthur
Sidgwick that he too was rather losing his interest
in history. Many things had happened since then,
and in his revulsion from the classical curricultim
at Eton and the mechanical turning out of Latin
verses he had identified himself with the teaching
of history and had eagerly supported the nascent
Historical Tripos at Cambridge. But he was Still
a little dubious whether history was to be his
master passion, or only the solace of an education¬
ist’s spare hours. Once a schoolmaster . . . He
wanted to teach, and though he was sure of the
future of King’s, he was not so sure whether there
was any scope in the College for himself. Prothero
had juSt been put in charge of the history teaching
in the College, and he was more than sufficient for
the few historians in King’s. O. B. had dismissed
the idea of Standing for the High Mastership of
St. Paul’s, the vacancy of which had seemed to his
mother “ as if it were the piece of good luck which
was to turn up ” after all his trials, because the
governors were notoriously Tories. He had con¬
sidered more seriously being a candidate for the
Head Mastership of the newly-formed County
School at Cambridge. There he would be in a
position of responsibility and he might succeed in
doing what he had failed to achieve at Eton, “ where
to gain anything like a reputation was impossible
for a subordinate.” But on reflection he decided
against it. It would keep him from writing, and
besides it was badly paid. His elder brother
William, who was as meticulous in money matters
as Oscar Browning was careless, recommended him

162

DUBIOUS BEGINNINGS

to take pupils as an obvious way of getting some
money. This plan O. B. quoted Jebb in calling
short-sighted, since it would make him lose caSte,
besides occupying much of his time. No : he must
make his mark as a serious historian—there was
George I ready to his hand. In this way both money
and reputation would be his. Thus he quieted his
doubts and his family, and for this reason too he
decided not to compete for the Head Mastership
of Skipton Grammar School, or for a post in
Owens College at Manchester, both of which had
been brought to his notice by his mother. “ I
should not be nearly so distinguished at Man¬
chester,” he wrote to her after a few weeks’ resi¬
dence, “ as I shall be at Cambridge. The University
has done all it can for me since I have been here.
It has (i) allowed me to le£ure, (2) made me a
‘ local centre,’ (3) placed me on the Library
Syndicate, (4) nominated me to examine for Chan¬
cellor’s medals. There has been a leading article
(favourable) about me in the Globe”

With such doubtful beginnings, only encouraged
by occasional Press notices, did O. B. commence
to lay the foundations of the legend which later on
was to flower so luxuriantly. If any reasonably
lucrative alternative had presented itself, the Cam¬
bridge vocation would have ceased almost before
it had begun. Not quite, however, for October
saw the inception of his Political Society and the
beginnings of that social and intelle&ual intercourse
with the undergraduates which was to be his con¬
tribution, a unique contribution, to the Cambridge
of his day. This soon effaced the regrets of the
schoolmaster for the loss of boyish companionship
in which he had delighted. In charm and high
spirits the youthful manhood of Cambridge was
every whit as fascinating as the boyhood of Eton,
whilst in the qualities of mind it was infinitely

OSCAR BROWNING

superior. Before long he is looking back on
his work at Eton as being that of a “ nursery-
governess,” and congratulating himself on his
escape from such a thraldom.

He became confirmed in his opinion that in
returning to Cambridge he had taken the wise and
sensible course when he was told by Henry Sidgwick
that there was a scheme on foot for giving him a
lectureship of £150 a year with fees under the
Historical Board. So far his lectures had merely
been sanctioned by the University, and he received
nothing for them except the fees of those who
chose to attend. This, however, would give him
an official Status, make him, as he explained to
his mother, “ a sort of professor,” and be a very
opportune riposte to the ungenerous treatment he
had received at Eton. At the end of the term
Professor Seeley, the Regius Professor of History,
announced it to him officially. In a letter, which
muSt have come as a pleasant contrast to Dr.
Hornby’s coldly critical communications about his
history teaching. Professor Seeley, one of the most
distinguished of contemporary historians, explained
that a number of persons, either old Etonians,
parents of Eton boys, or those engaged in education
elsewhere, had made a subscription to show their
sympathy with him in the trying circumstances in
which he had been placed, and their appreciation
of his value as a teacher. They had thought that
he would like to receive this sum in the form of
an annual payment during the first years which he
gave to the University in his new occupation of
teaching history, and he proceeded to make the
proposal already mentioned, concluding with an
expression, in the name of all the teachers of
history in Cambridge, of the pleasure they had in
welcoming him as a colleague. Henceforth there
was no more mention of a return to school-

164

HIS MOTHER’S ANXIETIES ABOUT HIM

mastering until, in 1915, at the age of seventy-eight
he offered his services to the Board of Education
as an elementary schoolmaster to replace any man
who had gone into the army, an offer, by the way,
that was not made use of.

Ill

On the whole he had reason to be satisfied with
the shape his new career was taking. Cambridge
promised him an excellent future, he wrote to his
mother, and he was quite sure that his dismissal
from Eton was now considered by many, and would
come to be considered by more, as an honour.
Dinner-parties and College feaSts added to the
amenities of life. He had soon acclimatised himself
to Cambridge customs in the matter of dining late
and drinking wine, too soon in the opinion of his
mother, who reminded him of his former ideals of
spare living and high thinking. She congratulated
him upon his appointment as University lecturer,
a testimony to his honour which she trusted would
be made known to enemies as well as friends.
“ But what,” she went on to ask, “ is become of
the ascetic life you were to lead at Cambridge ?
Where the simple dinners—the early to bed—the
early rising—the daily morning service ? Where ?
I fear you will become gouty, a gourmet, and
cease to care for the simplicity with which your
university career began.” If he had ever seriously
intended to lead the ascetic life, easier to follow
perhaps now in the general deterioration of manners
at Oxford and Cambridge thanit was in the’seventies,
a more intimate acquaintance with the ways of the
University must have seconded his own inclinations
in persuading him to give up the attempt.

O. B. delighted in hospitality, whether as host
or gueSt, and he drew spiritual as well as physical

165

OSCAR BROWNING

comfort from the ritual of the table. Man is the
only animal that dines; the daily Hall was to him
an important function, expressing at once the dignity
and the solidarity of their communal life, and he
always dressed for it every evening. He and one
or two other of the dons tried by the force of their
example to make the fashion general at the high
table. Outwardly he failed in this, as in so many
other things. But who knows whether the vastly
greater interest now taken in the art of gastronomy
may not be due to his having implanted in the min ds
of some or other of the intelle&ual elite of Cambridge
a respedt for goo d cooking ? When undergraduates
used to ask him why he changed for Hall, he would
reply : “ Because I like to consider the amourpropre
of the cook.” The advent of the married don and
the plethoric growth of the larger Colleges, as the
result of which high tables are a desert of table¬
cloth and the undergraduates dine in relays, have
played havoc with such formal notions, and we may
in part trace to these causes the curious paradox
that whilst the level of cookery has risen elsewhere
it has declined at the older universities. Never¬
theless, though the ideal of simple living had become
clouded, O. B. had not yet developed into that
glorious combination of gourmet and gourmand
he was later to achieve, a combination which, as
Brillat-Savarin admits, the tenth Muse, the polite
GaSterea, reserves for few of her favoured children.
But no man can be a schoolmaster for fifteen years
and not bear its Stigmata, so when his friend E. M.
Young, whom he sees at a Rugby meeting of the
U. U. during this first term, advises hi m to live
simply, he tells his mother that he means to follow
his advice. He even coquets with vegetarianism,
a tribute at least to his intelle&ual curiosity. Even
so, one feels, might an enlightened sheikh experi¬
ment in the virtues of ham.

166

MAKING THE NEW KING’S

IY

Thus he was happy at King’s, happier probably
than he had expeCted to be. Though he had
no position on the Staff of the College, he was a
member of a self-governing institution which by his
influence, his oratory and his vote he could assist
in guiding towards the realisation of the broad,
generous conceptions that he, and the other liberal-
minded Fellows of King’s, had formed as to its
future. The rich and splendid foundation of
Henry VI had burst its bonds, but the young
giant was yet unconscious of its Strength. It
had been bound to Eton for so long that even
men like Augustus AuSten Leigh were inclined
to pay undue homage to a connection which
had proved so deadening to what its Founder
had meant to be the more auguSt of the two sister
foundations. The days of its old exclusiveness
had passed away for ever in 1861 when King’s
ceased to be the appanage of Eton Collegers. But
it was not till 1865 that the first pensioners were
admitted, and the first open scholarship was only
offered in 1873, in the same year as a non-Etonian
for the first time was eleCted to a Fellowship.
Progress had been slow, as was to be expeCted in
an institution which had remained unaltered for
five centuries, and in which reform was largely
dependent on the good-will of the senior members
of a society who had been nurtured in the con¬
servative atmosphere of old King’s. The Statutes
of 1861, which grew out of the Ad of Parliament of
1856, soon proved, however, too narrow for the
functions which the new King’s was to fill in the
University, and throughout Oscar Browning’s
Eton career, the reforming party of which Henry
Bradshaw was the intellectual leader, and Augustus
AuSten Leigh the most effective champion at

167

OSCAR BROWNING

College meetings, continued its campaign to make
King’s worthy of the place it was destined to
occupy. This party Oscar Browning, whilst an
Eton master, had consistently supported, and
many were the letters he received from AuSten
Leigh and W. R. Churton, keeping him acquainted
with the trend of College politics, and not seldom
demanding his vote at Congregations. Even at
this time, when, as one of the “ Eton plutocrats,”
he had incurred the hostility of the resident Fellows,
his own views had not been coloured by any pre¬
possessions in favour of Eton. As a Liberal he
wished the portals of King’s to be thrown open to
all schools. Not unnaturally the harsh and, as he
conceived, unjuSt treatment he himself had received
at Eton rather strengthened him in these views.

When he returned into residence the role that
the College was to play Still remained doubtful.
It had already been decided in 1873 that only men
who intended to read for honours should be ad¬
mitted. This put a severe strain on the College
exchequer, since the fees paid by undergraduates
reading for honours were the same as those required
of “ pass ” men, whilst the others obviously re¬
quired more elaborate and expensive teaching.
No other College had passed this self-denying
ordinance, and though there was general agreement
as to its being desirable, there were some who
thought it unpra&ical. There were Stronger differ¬
ences of opinion as to the type of undergraduate
King’s should try and attraft. Should it require
“ tone ” as well as brains, social as well as intellec¬
tual qualities ? This question, whether King’s
should become the Balliol or the New College of
Cambridge, caused some division even amongst
the Liberals in the College, many of whom lacked
Oscar Browning’s robust faith in the ability of
King’s to carve out a future for itself apart from

HIS VISION OF THE REFORMED COLLEGE

Eton. Again there was the question of the size
of the College. Should it put no limit to its
numbers, or should it lay down decisively a term
to its growth? Here again his own view was
clear. And here too, some thirty years later,
when the College had reached the size he had
foreseen, his view was adopted.

A memorandum he circulated in 1877, when the
College under the shadow of the intervention of
the University Commissioners was framing new
Statutes, puts forth his views on these matters.
Though a radical and a democrat, he begins by
observing that a good and prosperous College
cannot be called into existence by legislation; it
must be of slow, organic growth, the result of
deliberate work and thought on the part of the
Fellows who control its destinies. “ We ought
then,” he continues, “ in framing a body of Statutes
for ourselves, first to decide what kind of College
we most desire and are most likely to produce, and
then to conStruX measures for its government
which will at least not interfere with the attainment
of this result and will, as far as possible, ensure and
hasten its accomplishment. I assume then that we
all wish our College to remain a College of honour
men. ... To admit poll-men to the College
would be to lay upon ourselves a heavy burden of
disagreeable work, to commit ourselves to an
unknown future, in which our present connexions
might be a danger rather than an assistance to us,
and to deviate from the lines marked out by our
previous history, the maintenance of which is the
surest guarantee of Stability and prosperity. I
have always fancied to myself the King’s of the
future as a College of about one hundred and fifty
undergraduates, reading for honours in the various
faculties of the University, provided with the best
teaching which the University can afford, which

169

OSCAR BROWNING

should be given to them to a gteat extent at the
expense of the College, enjoying the Stimulus of a
very cultivated and energetic society, protected
from the temptations of a larger College and
directed with a careful and sympathetic attention
from the older men which is at present little known
in Cambridge, but which is one of the chief advan¬
tages of the sister University.” Here Oscar
Browning must have been thinking of his friend
Walter Pater, with whom he often Stayed at
Brasenose. He proceeds to lay down the reasons
“ why a young Student, hesitating which College
he should choose, would prefer King’s: (i)
Because it would be ready, out of its large
resources, to help him in any line of Study which
he might adopt; (2) Because it would provide
him with the companions most congenial to an
industrious and able man, and (3) Because it
would furnish him in its resident Fellows with a
fullness of intelle&ual experience and encourage¬
ment which he would look for in vain elsewhere.
A College which chose for itself a task like this
would be doing the most valuable work which
could be expe&ed of a place of education, how¬
ever highly endowed. The parallel of the Ecole
Normale at Paris has been for many years present
to my mind as a model for ourselves.” Here was
a fine and Statesmanlike conception of what King’s
should be, a conception which has subsequently
been realised. And when, as frequently happened,
the paSt threw its shadow over him, he could gain
comfort from the reflexion that if he had failed to
liberalise Eton, where he had been but a “ helot,”
in the self-governing society of King’s he was
more fortunate and better able to do good.

None the less the task was often hard and
thankless. The ProvoSt was an obstacle in the
way of reform, and whatever Oscar Browning

170

THE FUNCTIONS OF THE PROVOST

suggested he was almost sure to frown upon.
To prevent future ProvoSts from being similar
obstructionists, O. B. proposed to make the
ProvoStship a terminable office, and to reduce its
emoluments. He pointed out that the system at
Cambridge by which the College tutors did all
the work, whilst the heads of Colleges enjoyed
a position of dignity and ease, was an anomaly.
They would do well to follow the example of
Oxford, which was wiser in this matter. If it had
been the rule at King’s to eleCt as ProvoSt someone
chosen from outside their own number on the
grounds of his attainments in literature or science,
the position should then be highly paid in order to
attraCt men of distinction. But it was absurd to
seleCt one of themselves and then to pay him with
disproportionate generosity for doing very little.
AuSten Leigh, who was destined to succeed Dr.
Okes, supported Oscar Browning, but the Govern¬
ing Body refused to follow them in making the
ProvoStship an office tenable for a term of years,
though the salary attaching to it was reduced for
the next occupant to £izoo a year, calculated on
the basis of its equivalence to four Fellowships.
In the matter of the election to Fellowships he was
more fortunate, and his view, which he persistently
advocated, that dissertations should be the basis
of the electors’ choice, was that which has prevailed,
to the enrichment of the intellectual life of King’s.
Under this system the College has chosen men like
Rupert Brooke and Mr. E. J. Dent, and others
whose achievements in the Triposes would not of
themselves have been sufficient to secure their
election. The fight over scholarships was harder
and the yearly Struggle to secure what he considered
adequate recognition for his own subjeCt, history,
seemed to grow more bitter with the years. He
was under the impression that Edmond Warre,

171

OSCAR BROWNING

himself a Balliol man, sent the ablest Etonians to
his own College, and that King’s only received the
aftermath of Eton talent. And he complained
bitterly of those Fellows who believed that it was
better for King’s to secure an Etonian “ almost at
any price,” an opinion which he lamented grew no
weaker as the new regime established itself.

But in his early days, though he did not always
get his own way, he and his party generally managed
to push their measures through. He records in
1878 having gained two vi&ories at a College
meeting, one about the College buildings and the
other for the abolition of divinity examinations.
He supports the proposal for union with St.
Catherine’s College: “ We decided to settle pro¬
visionally to unite ourselves with another smaller
College profanely called Cats, but it will take
time,” he records in the autumn of 1879. (The
fusion was in the end opposed by St. Catherine’s.)
He supported the project of buying the Bull Tun
in order to gain the accommodation now rendered
absolutely necessary by the growth of the College.
This would have become the Provost’s Lodge, and
the present unsightly Lodge would have then been
pulled down to make room for other buildings.
But the project came to nothing owing to the veto
of the Copyhold Commissioners. College meetings
were long and often tedious, only enlivened by the
fun of fighting. Almost everything had to be
reformed and a thousand details claimed attention.
Thus at one meeting the party of progress managed
to secure the introduction of Hymns Ancient and
Modern into the Chapel services. At another,
O. B. had some difficulty in prevailing on the
College to allow women to come to the same le&ures
as the men, a resolution which when first put into
effect produced “ quite a sensation.” He dis¬
approved of the decision to put up a Statue of the

172

COLLEGE MEETINGS

Founder and a fountain in the front court, and when
it was finished he remarked that he looked “ terribly
foolish.” In his desire, however, not to pull down
the screen that fronts the King’s Parade he was in
agreement with a majority of the Fellows.

All this occupied a good deal of time and helped
to diStraft him from writing the magnum opus which
was to establish his reputation as a historian.
King’s had to be re-made, nevertheless, and only by
pertinacity and pugnacity could the reformers, who
never had a proper working majority, hope to
impress their will on the wobbling spirits who loved
compromise.

He has sung of one such meeting :

“ Tell me, O Muse, for thou waft there to see,

How eager Nixon and benign O. B.,

Trained in a thousand ta&ics of the fight,

Defended common-sense and College right.

How Leigh with mild persiftence gently drove
His flock in those soft accents which they love;

How Selwyn, boy in years but man in place.

Frowned with the trenchant sternness of his race,
Stearn, by confli&ing duties hardly pressed.

Chose the less evil course and acquiesced.

Meanwhile the Provoft, with his mafter-mind,

The wavering balance to his will inclined.

Fickle as woman, Prothero once more.

Turned the old coat he’d often turned before.

And Welldon, high above all thoughts of pelf.
Heaved a deep sigh and voted—for himself.”

y

It was good enough fun, helping to mould a new
thing, battling against a Conservative ProvoSt,
winning over doubtful colleagues. Altogether very
different from Eton. Yet his own personal position
in the College had no official Status to back it. His
friends wished to remedy this, and in the summer
term of 1877, after he had been in residence seven

*73

OSCAR BROWNING

or eight months, the proposal was brought forward
that he should be given a College lefturesliip in
history. It looked as if it were going through,
but when it came to the vote it was lost by eleven
to ten, the ProvoSt throwing his casting vote in the
scale against him. This was the first disappoint¬
ment he had suffered at King’s. He took it,
however, philosophically, merely relating the faft
to his mother and adding : “ Walter. Durnford
came up from Eton to oppose it, which seems to me
a piece of very bad taSte.” When the post was
adtually made for him three years later he told her
that he thought it very good of the College, an
unusual expression of modesty on his part. There¬
after he continued to associate with the history
school in King’s, first as subordinate to Prothero
and subsequently as assistant tutor, until his retire¬
ment in 1909, This was destined to be the extent
of the authority given him in the management of
the College. It was, of course, quite incom¬
mensurate with his own ambitions.

But if he was clear-sighted in his views of what
King’s should be, he was singularly deficient in
estimating his position in relation to other members
of the Governing Body and careless of those arts
by which men climb official ladders. In November
1877, after he had been a little over a year at King’s,
the Vice-ProvoStship became vacant, and at first
he seemed to have considered that as Henry Brad¬
shaw refused to be a candidate, he had himself a
chance of being chosen. But it was soon evident
that he had none at all. “Iam not a senior Fellow,”
he wrote to his mother, “ till next June, so I don’t
suppose they will have me.” She thought that
absurd, and was annoyed with Cornish because
when he had come to tea with her he had remarked:
“ So they are not going to make OscarVice-ProvoSt.”
This looked as if there were a cabal against him.

i74

COLLEGE POLITICS

Why was not his merit recognised ? He replies
that he does not know what will be settled about
the Vice-Provoftship. “ I try,” he says, “ as far
as possible to abstract my mind from such things.
As to my being famous, I fear that you will never
see it. I am one of the kind of men whose work is
never appreciated till they are dead.” There had
in reality never been any doubt that Auften Leigh,
if His own scruples about accepting the position
could be overcome, would be chosen. He was the
obvious man for the position, and Oscar Browning,
when it came to the point, supported his candida¬
ture. Three days before the ele&ion he writes :
“ I am not to be made Vice-Provo ft, but I believe
I shall be made Dean.”

His belief, however, was not to be fulfilled.
What happened, or at leaft his view of what hap¬
pened, is contained in one of his letters : “ I had
made up my mind not to stand againft Churton.
He told me with his own lips that he retired in my
favour and would nominate me. Nixon went to
him and persuaded him to give his consent to a
piece of paper saying that he would serve if elected.
He then showed this to a number of young Fellows
juft come up to the meeting who knew nothing
about the circumftances, and persuaded them to
vote for Churton, who had been Dean so many
years. I knew nothing about it till the adual
moment of election, and I was beaten by three votes.
Everybody is very angry with Nixon, and with
good cause. They say that he has done me rather
good than harm. It has made a great row in the
University. It has been very unfair to me to be
dragged into this quarrel againft my will.” The
incident blew over. O. B. did not yet think that
he was being persecuted.

At the same time he felt it was decidedly curious
that two, or even three attempts to give him

i75

OSCAR BROWNING

recognition and Status (for there had been a
suggestion that he should undertake the functions
of Assistant Librarian, worth £25 a year) should
have come to nothing. His mother, too, is un¬
easy. “ What is the prejudice against you ? ” she
asks. “ Why are you always thus treated ? Who
are your foes ? ” In reply he assures her that the
efforts to keep him down could only result in a more
complete triumph. The figure of speech at IfeaSt
tickled his vanity, even if it were a little grandiose
to apply to a matter of a mere College Deanship.
By his own lights he should have had no vanity, no
ambition for office, however humble it might be.
He tells his mother that he has no wish to emerge
from the obscurity into which he has fallen. “ My
desire is to get control of myself, to work hard, to
do my duty, to pay my debts and to let reputation
take care of itself.” Sentiments worthy of a sage.
But, like other philosophers, O. B. had his off days.
On these he takes a less serene view of things and
forgets the greatest of the Christian virtues. As he
grew older his off days increased. For the present,
however, he was happy enough at King’s and every
year becoming more of a personality in the Uni¬
versity, which easily counterbalanced such small
set-backs as these.

176

CHAPTER XI

GROWTH OF THE O. B. LEGEND

I

While lie was helping to create the new King’s,
to make it “ the most distinguished College at
either University ”—for, as Eton when he was there
had been the first of schools, so now King’s was to
become the first of colleges—while the University
Historical Board, of which he was a member, was
developing the Historical Tripos into that soft
option for intelligent boys who had neglefted their
classics at school, while these and his numerous
other interests, one of them being the training of
teachers, all combined to prevent him from making
that frontal attack on the citadel of Literary Fame
for which he had drawn up plans in his boyhood,
and ever since continued to regard lovingly in its
pigeon-hole, Oscar Browning was already bearing
out in his own experience the truth of his favourite
aphorism that reputation cometh not by observa¬
tion. Though not ceasing to be poor and suffering
from a chronic and inexplicable overdraft at his
banker’s, he was ceasing to be obscure. He was
becoming a personality, a figure in the academic
world of Cambridge. Everyone knew him. And
whereas at Eton his colleagues had smiled whilst
his pupils had taken him seriously, at Cambridge
his colleagues took him seriously and the under¬
graduates laughed. Those boys upon whom he
had had most influence at Eton, boys with taSte for
art or letters, boys who were liable to be negle&ed
n 177

OSCAR BROWNING

in the routine of a great school, had repaid him with
feelings compounded of admiration and romantic
affection. One of them, afterwards to wear the
bays of a minor poet, has expressed himself with
ingenuous charm:

“ Down the slow, pale-eddied river, down the river
slow went we.

Till we came to where the rushes.

With the tangled alder bushes.

Made a bulwark weird to see.

There we rested, there we rested, lying lazily
While the evening gnats were humming.

And the droning beetle drumming.

O’er the river fair to see 1

Then the treasured volume read he, very quietly.

As the flecks of light were falling
And the cuckoo close by calling—

Calling to his mate was he.”

At Cambridge it was not necessary to present so
unyielding a front to the Philistines, and instead of
boys he had young men to associate with. It was,
we may believe, an agreeable change. For years
he had had to try and make his pupils forget that
he was a schoolmaster. “ Nolo episcopari ” had
been his motto, yet it was occasionally necessary
to speak ex cathedra pcedagogica. In the greater
freedom of his new surroundings there was no need
for such distasteful solemnities. He was now able
to exercise a lighter touch. He could be as young
as the youngest, say whatever came into his head,
allow high spirits to carry him where they would.
The shadow of a Head Master no longer darkened
the path of this mid-Vi&orian Socrates. In the
Liberal atmosphere of Cambridge thought was free
and tongues did not wag reprovingly as at Eton.
He remained, of course, intensely serious. His
vocation, his duty, nay, his pleasure, was to in¬
fluence and guide young men. And his inner voice

178

HIS INFLUENCE OVER YOUNG MEN

supported him, for he too, like Socrates, possessed
a singularly encouraging daimon , thanks to whom
he knew that what he did was good.

Not only his able daimon but his colleagues also
took him seriously. Here is a serious appreciation
of him by a colleague : “ Gifted with a deep insight
into character and the mo St catholic power of
sympathy, having it perpetually as his one objeCt to
further the interests of the young men with whom
he came into contact, Oscar Browning exercised
an influence wider and more beneficial than any
other don, probably in the University, certainly
in King’s. He saw as if by inStinCt a man’s good
qualities and weaknesses, intellectual and moral,
and suppressed the one and developed the other
with unremitting but unobtrusive skill. Again
and again within my own knowledge he discerned
latent gifts where the ordinary observer would see
little or nothing, and having discovered the potential
excellence had not rested till it had become aCtual.
To the performance of such tasks he devoted him¬
self unsparingly. Personal convenience counted
for nothing. Thought and time, which from the
point of view self-advancement might have been
far more profitably employed, were lavished in the
interests of others.”

II

But such an appreciation, though it underlines
his earnestness, cannot convey the vitality, the
enormous fund of good-humour, the frankness of
speech, the idiosyncrasies of vanity, the enthusiasm,
the magnanimity, the vindictiveness, all the Strange
jumble of qualities which went to lift Oscar Brown¬
ing into a personality with that touch of absurdity
which constitutes a character. From these sprung

179

OSCAR BROWNING

the O. B. myth, with all its apocrypha of anecdotes
and its battery of laughter. It was created almost
as soon as he came into residence. J. K. Stephen,
who was definitely to give it its Falstaffian quality
with his famous quatrain, was Sill a schoolboy at
Eton when the undergraduate papers realised that
in this small and Stout King’s don, with the large
head, the rotund body and the short legs, was a
subject from which unlimited humour might’ be
extracted. He had not been at Cambridge a year
when he found it necessary to assure his mother that
University dons were not like schoolmasters, afraid
of being chaffed. On the contrary, he basked in
banter and revelled in ridicule. It was a tribute
to his personal dignity that he was able to join in
the laugh against himself.

From the beginning he had determined to know
as many undergraduates as possible. Following the
example of Henry Bradshaw, the man who im¬
pressed Mommsen after an evening’s conversation
as the ablest living Englishman, his rooms were
always open to anyone who wanted to see him. In
Victorian phrase he never “ sported his oak.”
And he entertained on a scale unapproached by any
other don. As a result no King’s undergraduate in
his time, and very few of the “ beautiful and good ”
in other Colleges, slipped through the net of his
hospitality. “ If you were here now,” wrote
Sir J. J. Thomson, the Master of Trinity, to him
in 1918, “ you would not find any undergraduates to
whom you could have been as hospitable as you
were to those of my generation and long after.”
" Saturday is my day for entertaining,” he tells
his mother in those early Cambridge days, “ and I
do what I can to bring promising young men
together. It seems to me the best thing I can do
here. I do the utmost to make the best use of my
time and influence. Whether I succeed or not I

180

INTEREST IN UNIVERSITY SPORTS

cannot say, but I seem to know most people in the
University worth knowing.”

Ill

This symposial culture was catholic in its inten¬
tions. The old distrust of athletes had even
vanished. He has the two College boats to break¬
fast and takes an interest in the rowing which he
never showed at Eton; indeed he follows the
fortunes of the College on the river with the keen¬
ness of a rowing man. Frequent are his laments
at the apparently ineluctable fate of King’s to be
bumped. “ We have been bumped every night,”
he says of one Lents, “ to our great disgust. I am
afraid that the College is split up into sets and that
there is no proper feeling of patriotism.” It is
some consolation that King’s has done well at
football and been in the final of the inter-college
cup. The famous ’Varsity Cricket XI of 1882,
one of the classic XI’s of cricketing annals, he
entertains to dinner in honour of the Studds, who
were in his house at Eton, and visits Fenner’s on
all the days of their match against the Australians
when they “ won a glorious victory.” He meets a
possible charge of inconsistency by pointing out
that athletics are not nearly so demoralising at the
University as they are at school, and his old attacks
on the Oxford Colleges which foSter athleticism
and idleness do not rise to refute him. But then
there was no Warre at King’s. Many others
besides athletes, however, sit at his table. Sixteen
of his old Eton pupils come to dinner, including
Gerald Balfour, Jim Stephen, Selwyn and the
Studds, and Leigh and Cornish are able to take back
news to Hornby “ that he Still goes oil ‘ corrupting
the youth.’ ” “ They do not seem to mind it,” he

adds complacently.

181

OSCAR BROWNING

As his popularity grew there was hardly a side
of University undergraduate life with which he was
not identified. At the “Footlights,” of which
he was President for ten years, he met the gayer and
more frivolous spirits. He came into contact at
the Union, of which he was Treasurer for more than
twice that span, with serious undergraduates who,
like himself, had political ambitions. His own
interest in what he calls “ velocipedes ” caused him
to be president of the University Bicycle Club,
which had a brief existence in the ’eighties, when it
attra&ed the adventurous and mechanically-minded
type of undergraduate much as the Aero Club does
to-day. At various times he was an officer of the
University Swimming Club, the Musical Club and
the University Hockey Club—a game he often
played.

And besides taking an interest in such varied
pursuits as the members of these clubs followed he
was for a good many years a keen Freemason.
“ Can you conceive of my committing such a folly
in my old age ? ” he writes to his mother after his
initiation. A day or two later he adds : “ The
Freemasons’ Lodge here is good and unusually cheap,
and I joined it because I always like anything which
forms a permanent link between the transient
undergraduate and myself. I daresay it was an
a£t of folly, but not a serious one.” When he passed
to the second degree he found it “ more interesting.”
Mention of Masonic meetings thereafter is frequent
for many years in his letters to his mother, and
he went through several degrees, including those
of the Mark' Masters and the Royal Ark Mariner,
reaching that of the Excellent Masters. He also
held office in his Provincial Grand Lodge.

Whatever *his original motive for being initiated.
Masonry was clearly congenial to him. Doubtless
it appealed to many sides of his nature, to his

182

FREEMASONRY

intelle&ual curiosity, to his taste for ceremonial, to
his love of good-fellowship, even to his vanity, for
Masonry offers offices for all who come. Anyhow
he gave up a good deal of time to the craft and his
rooms were not infrequently the setting of Masonic
lodges. But even in Freemasonry he ceased in
the end to find those fraternal feelings which the
craft is supposed to footer, and in later life he ceased
to have any active connection with it. Freemasons,
however, keep their controversies, if they have
them, to themselves, and over O. B.’s disenchant¬
ment, for disenchantment there was, hangs the
veil of secrecy. Suffice it to say that he was present
when the Duke of Clarence was raised to the degree
of a master mason, and recorded the dignified
bearing of the young Prince on that occasion,
and that he was for many years a popular ceremon-
iarius at the annual Masonic Ball which is one of the
events of May week.

IV

Pleasures and duties thus pressed relentlessly
on each other’s heels. It was indeed impossible
to separate the one from the other, the surest
sign that he was ordering his life in the right way,
that he was making a due contribution in social
service for the gifts with which Nature had endowed
him. Never before was it so easy for George Eliot
to say “ Amen ” to his gratitude that he had a
definite position with unquestionable duty to save
him from “ vague ambitions.” Recognition was
coming from all sides. Very soon he is “ over¬
whelmed with correspondence.” Societies in pro¬
vincial towns, Leeds, Birmingham, Newcastle
write and ask him to lefture. At Horsham, “ a
town in Surrey,” as he described it with a
historian’s fine disregard for geography, he has

OSCAR BROWNING

placed it on record that the vicar, a more in¬
telligent man than most of the parochial clergy,
introduced him as one who had been a great
schoolmaster. Financial reasons induce him to
lefture at the College of Preceptors; the passionate
desire to educate the masses urges him to give
talks to working men in Westminster, talks on
the fuller life which Liberalism meant to give to the
people. He has often to attend meetings of 'the
Arundel Society or of the Royal Historical Society.
He is a regular contributor to the weekly papers
and the reviews.

That he manages to keep up with his work in
spite of the Cambridge air, which has now grown
very relaxing, is something of a miracle. It can
only be done indeed by frequent holidays abroad.
There only too can he get through “ serious
writing.” Not that his pen at Cambridge is ever
idle. One day he has to indite a letter to The
Times on elementary education, the next to com¬
pose a menu in verse for “ The Extremes,” an
undergraduates’ dining club in King’s. Both he
does con amove. The letter can remain in its duSty
files; the sonnet shows that his gravity could
unbend.

“ Ad Eschatiam.

Fair Goddess, Hater of the Golden Mean,

Smile on thy sons Extreme, and as they dine,

Fill them with juicy meats and joyous wine
Till Moderation, vanquished, leaves the scene.
Consummate soup with sherry; and between
The crisped smelts infuse the gay Sauterne.

Stir up the thoughts that breathe and words that burn
With foaming grape of amber-coloured sheen.

Bottled by good Count Robert of Avize.

Grant us a Gallic entree, sure to please,

A haunch of venison from the haunts of Herne.
Through icy creams and devilled savouries.

Guide us, till half inspired and half distraught.

Like Storm-tossed mariners we reach our port.”

184

HINDRANCES TO STUDY

A man who could write such amusing trifles
could hardly escape being a favourite with the
undergraduates, specially when he would follow
up this effort by replying for the toast of “ The
Crowned Heads of Europe.”

There was indeed but one thing wanting to
make his social gifts complete—to learn to waltz.
He went to balls and danced till the early hours.
The polka and the lancers he could manage; but
the waltz was less easy to master, and he wished that
he had more aptitude for this “ sensuous yet difficult
measure.” His regrets, which seem to have been
soon forgotten, had been aroused, one may add,
by his failure with Miss Stephen, a partner “ of
commanding Stature ” with whose feet his own
were unable to keep rhythm. In other respefts he
flatters himself that he is growing more truly master
of his environment than perhaps he had ever been.
In 1879 he and Whitting had given a garden party
in the Fellows’ garden to the newly-made LL.D.’s,
the “ aristocracy of Cambridge,” and it had been
a great success. This prompts him to write : “ I
think I am feeling more than I have ever yet done
that my Cambridge work is beginning to tell. Kegan
Paul told me that someone had spoken to him of
my splendid work here. . . . How lucky I was to
have left Eton, where I was working single-handed,
and to have come here, where I had a fair field.
These feelings will, I think, increase rather than
diminish as time goes on.” He adds immediately
after this : “ I have a man called Oscar Wilde
Staying with me who is also named after the King
of Sweden.”

V

Here was another of the hindrances to work.
His friends, old and new, were constantly coming

185

OSCAR BROWNING

to stay with him. O. B. was no provincial and he
did not exclude Oxford from his purview of the
civilised world. He had first met Oscar Wilde at
Oxford when Staying with Walter Pater. Nothing
could be more natural than that he should become
friends with this clever, if affeCfced, young man.
“ Oscar Wylde, an Oxford man, also called after
the King of Sweden,” is the way he described
him to his mother on his second visit some
months later. On this occasion Oscar Wilde came
for the A.D.C. performance which he and O. B.
went to together, O. B. afterwards having a
supper-party in his rooms at which most of the
caSte were present. Wilde’s “ affectation ” amused
him. He was “ really very clever and amusing
and full of interesting conversation.” Some years
later, when he is Staying with him again, this time a
self-invited but not the less welcome guest, O. B.
observes that he has “ loSt a lot of his affectation and
is much improved.” Oscar Wilde returns his
hospitality by suppers at the Cafe Royal, when
O. B., leading the life of a man about Town, has
been to see his friends the Bancrofts in their latest
play at the Haymarket, or has gone to the last Savoy
opera for which Arthur Sullivan has given him a
box.

O. B., who loved all new things, from religions to
mechanical inventions, was pleased to trip about
with the aesthetes “ in short-skirted epigrams and
pink-tight phrases.” They were beginning to
invade King’s in the ’eighties and found their
finest expression in Robert Ross, for whom he had
particular affeCtion. Pie regarded them with the
same beneficent and catholic eye that he turned on
Nonconformists, who were “ the salt of Cambridge,”
on Indians, on Jews, whose demand for exemption
from the paper in the Little-Go on Paley’s Evidences
of Christianity he championed, on those Cinderellas

186

GEORGE CURZON STAYS AT KING’S

of the University, the non-ColIegiate Students, and
lastly on the Newnhamites and Girtonites, •who, if
gawky, yet Stood for the cause of women’s educa¬
tion, in which he had already been actively interested
at Eton, that cause of which his friend Henry
Sidgwick was “ the high prieSt.” Nevertheless in
this he was an ungallant Liberal and was wont to
declare that the impression left on his mind, after
looking over any set of examination papers, was
that, irrespective of the marks he might give, the
best woman was intellectually the inferior of the
worst man. On the other hand, they were much
more regular at leCtures than the men, and O. B.
liked his leCtures to be well attended.

Though his rooms were very comfortable and
confirmed him in the view that marriage would add
nothing to the usefulness of his life, guests in College
were difficult to escape from and encroached on his
working hours. All the same they were very
welcome, especially Curzon and his old Eton pupils.
Curzon was a frequent visitor. “ George is as
delightful as ever,” he wrote in 1878, “ and those
who do not think well of him are quite wrong.”
Wolley-Dod was no longer his tutor, but Stone
also appears to have lacked O. B.’s breezy confidence
in Curzon’s talents and character. One letter from
Curzon on his return to Eton, where he was now
in the Sixth Form, concludes :

“ Horngog is mild and apologetic,

Dod is Bluff and good-humoured.

Stone querulous and doubting.

Myself your most affe&ionate friend.”

O. B. repeats this to his mother with evident
amusement. The don smiles at the foibles of the
schoolmaster, the indulgent tutor at the wit of his
pupil.

Another visitor was Vassall, now Father Vassall-
187

OSCAR BROWNING

P hillip s, the well-known RedemptoriSt. “ Owing
to the ovetlapping of the Oxford and Cambridge
terms,” he writes, “ I was able to go and Stay with
him for two or three days at the end of each Oxford
term before Cambridge went down (at least I think
that is how I managed what were certainly fre¬
quent visits). I shall never forget the position he
held in the University. He was at the height of
his powers and his Sunday evenings were the most
brilliant things imaginable. Everyone was there.
I call to mind especially Henry Bradshaw, the
learned don, and J. H. Stephen, my beloved
school-friend, who was held to be, as his brass in
King’s Chapel testifies, beyond compare the most
brilliant of undergraduates.” To O. B. the news of
VassalTs conversion gave the satisfaction which
his sympathy with spiritual experiences engendered.
But soon Vassall took orders, and the old intimacy
was broken in the new life upon which his young
friend of other days had entered.

There were many others who kept up the link
with Eton or prevented him from becoming a
“ mere provincial.” Knatchbull-Hugessen, now
Lord Brabourne, is his gueSt upon occasion. Emil
Sauer, already a virtuoso of international reputation,
stays with him and plays at a concert in the College
Hall, having to retire after playing Schumann to a
place of solitude in order that he may put himself
in the proper State of emotion for the Chopin that
is to follow—a gesture which much impressed O. B.
at the time. And there were nephews—some of
them idle, and worse Still borrowers, young men
for whom Canada was obviously intended—to
persuade him that nepotism was not one of his
vices. All these helped to make Cambridge “ into
a whirl, but a pleasant whirl,” and to draw laments
from him that he is a “ poor, weak, miserable
wretch in not being able to Stand a little racket.”

188

DOCTORS AND HIS AILMENTS

Life was certainly very enjoyable. Yet vague am¬
bitions still Haunted him. “I oscillate between
love of solitude and desire of society,” he writes
to his mother when he has been ten years at
Cambridge, “ and I am as unreasonable as most
human beings. When I am alone I wish for
companionship, and when I have people with me
I wish to be alone. If only I could produce more
writing .”

Those who only knew Oscar Browning as a
vigorous septuagenarian would be surprised how
unsatisfactory was his health until he was well
advanced in middle age. It took him all that time
to outgrow the debility of his youth. During these
earlier years at Cambridge he was a martyr to colds,
to which he believes that his baldness made him
peculiarly susceptible. He suffered from bron¬
chitis, from shingles and more or less chronically
from insomnia. A homoeopathic doctor, “ who
assists rather than fights against Nature,” does him
good. And he derives benefit from giving up
wine. “ I drink none for lunch,” he tells his
mother, “ a little sherry and water for dinner. Last
night I indulged in a glass of port. I shan’t cut
myself off altogether.” She tries to Strengthen her
favourite son in an abstemiousness which was
hardly less foreign to her nature than to his. She
assures him that he is growing fat and losing all the
good looks with which Nature and his parents had
endowed him. He admits the charges to be true.
But he had juSt been told by a firSt-rate doCtor of
his acquaintance “ not to mind being Stout and to let
Nature have her way.” Did not the Bible say
that we were to enjoy the fruits of the earth ? And
whatever the State of his health, his appetite was

189

OSCAR BROWNING

voracious. He often “ feels a sense of hunger in
the night ” and comes to breakfast ravenous. In
order that this meal shall possess a daily sense of
novelty, he draws up fifteen different menus and
has them arranged in a mathematical series of which
the cook has the key, so that no conjecture on his
part can forecast which is coming next.

“ Languor ” was the constant enemy, which good
food and wine often had the effeft of driving away.
For instance, he has been feeling run down for
several days, when rather against his inclinations, he
has to go and dine in remote Downing to celebrate
the appointment of a newmaSter. He tells his mother
about it. “ The undergraduates were present, and
after toasts were over there were loud shouts of
Browning, O. B., Oscar, and I had to make a speech.
It appears that I am very popular with the under¬
graduates, though I should have thought that
those of Downing had never heard my name. I
drank a great deal of champagne, and this morning
feel quite vigorous again. It does credit to the
wine.” But although he worries about his ail¬
ments, which he excuses on the ground of its being
an inherited trait, and he has become very fat, and
it gives him no pleasure to contemplate himself in
the glass, and although—a fa& Still more in¬
disputable—he is growing old, he is not at all
shocked at his advancing years. For he makes it
a rule to anticipate in imagination the age he has
arrived at, and he always considers himself two or
three years older than he really is. MoSt important
of all, he does not find that age makes it more
difficult for him to “ associate with young men.”

VII

Happily there was no clash here between pleasure
and work. If he had an influence over young men,

190

HIS MOTHER WANTS HIM TO MARRY

so did they over him. If they learnt from him, so
did he from them. “ The month we have spent
together,” he observes of his holiday abroad with
Curzon in the summer of 1880 at Oberammergau
and elsewhere, “ will, I hope, have been of great
service to both of us.” The master of novices, who
could be domineering with colleagues, was humble
before the shrine of youth. To his mother he
seemed perhaps to pursue such companionships
with excessive, almost undignified, zeal. Even
when he visited her at Windsor he was accompanied
by one or more undergraduates. “ If I spend any
time with you at Christmas,” he writes to his
mother, who was then an old lady of eighty-six, “ I
must have my friends to Stay with me. Of course
I will pay for their board as I did last year. It is
necessary not only for reasons of companionship but
of education. Your house is the only house I
have, and much advantage is done by asking under¬
graduates for a few days. I quite understand that
you do not wish to have any excitement, but I am
sure that this can be easily reconciled with what I
propose.” His mother agreed, but one suspects
from the tone of her acquiescence that she thought
Oscar might give his vocation a holiday on the
infrequent occasions that he Stayed with her.

Often she advised him to marry. She was
anxious for his health, of which she considered he
was careless. It was foolhardy for a man of fifty to
bathe in the Cam in the month of February and two
days later to take a Turkish bath. Besides, she was
a woman, and mistrusted bachelorhood as she loved
grandchildren. But she met with little encourage¬
ment. On one occasion when she was more
emphatic than usual, he replied that he had “ no
qualm of affe&ion of any kind.” Not even his
friends’ felicity could stir his envy. He stays with
E. M. Young, who has just been appointed Head

191

OSCAR BROWNING

Master of Sherborne, where in his fight against evil
he too was to have difficulties as Oscar Browning
had had at Eton, and records that he is not less
pleased to see his friends Head Masters than to see
them married.

Such flirtations as befell him were exceedingly
mild. One summer on the Rigi he meets a young
lady “ who is very delightful, good-looking, clever,
bright, graceful, of a distinguished family.” ‘All
the people in the hotel declare that he has been
smitten. The train is laid, but the fuse fails to
ignite. <£ I shan’t tell you her name,” he says to
his mother. “ However, you need not be alarmed.
I saw very little of her and she is now gone away.
It would be very hard if, after failing to fall in love
during the many years in which I could have
married, I should do so now that I have to be
single.” The young lady and other members of
the party go to Felsen Egg, and write from there
to ask him to join them. He cannot, however,
manage this “ without inconvenience ” and gives
up the idea. Occasionally the ennui of a bachelor’s
life overpowers him and he “ really begins to wish ”
that he was married. “ Would it not be delightful,”
he writes from Cannes, “ if an eligible heiress
turned up in these regions ? ” But such wishes
are transitory. And however fortunate he may
have been in his friendships, in that “ pure, passion¬
ate, devoted friendship, love without his wings,”
which he had sighed for as a boy at Eton, he never
succumbed to the shafts of the full-fledged Cupid.

Only two women had any influence in his life,
George Eliot and his mother. With George Eliot
he was for fifteen years on terms of intimacy. For
her mind and character he always felt “ a deep
and unswerving devotion.” She on her side
doubtless dire&ed towards Oscar Browning some
of the “ maternal feeling towards both men and
. 192

GEORGE ELIOT’S INFLUENCE

women ” younger than herself which, as she
assured him, she experienced the more fully as she
grew older. He looked upon her as his PrieStess
of Delphi. During his Eton mastership he was
continually submitting his doubts and anxieties
to her judgment. His letters sometimes made her
“ serious, if not sermonising,” for they contained
“ such sad glimpses of the world.” She was
troubled by “ those wretched boys of nineteen who
are among the myriad causes helping to make all
the more haSty and damaging the inevitable revolu¬
tion that should be beneficently slow.” And she
Strengthened him in his hatred, which she shared,
“ of negative deStru&ive teaching given to the
young. Superstition of almost any sort,” she
once wrote to him, “is better, and has more
moral truth in it, than an attitude of contemptuous
superiority to the hard-earned experience of the
generations.” He saw less of her in the last few
years of her life, but welcomed her marriage with
John Cross, who, as he tells his mother in com¬
menting upon the news, had been devoted to Mrs.
Lewes for a long time. But his reverence for her
personality never waned, and over his wri tin g desk
at Cambridge hung her portrait, gazing on which
he used to draw some portion of that spiritual
Strength for which he was so deeply indebted to her
during her life.

To his mother he was a land, if self-indulgent,
son; she towards her son was fond and indulgent,
but not uncritical. He wrote to her regularly every
Sunday, and when she was ill, as was not infre¬
quently the case, every day. Her beauty, grace
and wit had helped to give distinction to his house
at Eton, as her mordant tongue had helped to make
wider those rifts which so often gaped across his
path. To her he communicated all his doubts and
controversies, and she like most mothers who have
o 193

OSCAR BROWNING

clever sons, took him very seriously. At Eton she
had continually to be impressing on him that he
was not wasting his abilities as a schoolmaster, and
that the comforts and blessings of everyday life
were worth appreciating if only because he would
feel their loss grievously. When he went to
Cambridge she tried to aft as a spur to his ambition,
so that he should achieve that fame to which his
character and talents entitled him. And she did
not mince her words. Never, for instance, did
he seem to have any money, not even when his
income was £3000 a year. And at the end of one
Eton half he had said that he was looked upon by his
family as a milch-cow. Other masters saved, he
was always more or less in debt. His mother did
not let the petulant remark pass. “ Such a thought,”
she assures him, “ is unworthy of you, such an
aft would be most unworthy of me. You are dis¬
satisfied with the arrangements. Let them cease.
Between this and eleftion you can look out for a
housekeeper. At my age I am not inclined
to be tutored either by Mrs. Cornish, her matron,
Mrs. Warre or any other person. I have done my
be§t, and the result, so far as I can see, has been
eminently successful. I shall leave you in the full
tide of prosperity. . . . And now I must add one
word more. You do not save money. Why ?
Not because your mother and sifters cost you so
much, but because your personal expenses are so
enormous. You travelled 10,000 miles last year.
Reckon the expense at a shilling a mile—and it
coft more I am sure—that alone would be £500.
Then your horse, boats, books, music. . . .You
ought not to blame the person who manages the
current expenditure when the great extravagance
is not under control. ... I write more in sorrow
than in anger.” As with so many persons with a
reputation for generosity, there was a side from

194

GEORGE CURZON AS CANDID FRIEND

which it did not appear quite so commendable.
The answer is not extant, but we may be sure that
it was a soft one. To his mother O. B. was always
piously contrite.

Sometimes this old lady with the gift of self-
expression is mildly ironical. Eight years of
Cambridge had not produced the expected great
work. Oscar was always busy and yet nothing
seemed to come of it. Then at the Eton and
Winchester match George Curzon had met her
daughter and played the candid friend. He had
told her that Oscar was surrounded by friends
and immersed in dissipation, that it was a pity he
frittered away his talents on primers, that he was
a money-grubber, and that he ought to be writing
a big book to hand down to posterity. His mother
passed on Curzon’s remarks faithfully, and added
that she supposed he was “ taking Gibbon for a
precedent, who considered his Decline and Vail for
seven years before putting his pen to paper.”
Neither was she very sympathetic with his “ money
difficulties.” “ If you borrow £500 from a friend
to pay old debts,” she observes, “ the loan and the
debt cannot both exist.” Nor did she believe that
Staying in London during June at the height of the
season was good either for his health or his pocket.
Her candour was inspired by the purest motives
of maternal devotion. His recklessness about his
personal expenditure readied on his powers of work,
for it prevented him, she was sure, from taking those
frequent foreign holidays necessary to counteradfc the
relaxing air of Cambridge. Only if he kept his health
could he produce something worthy of himself
and her ambitions for him. She wanted above
everything to see him famous, famous “ beyond the
jealousies of soi-distant friends and the spite of
enemies.” The precious years were slipping by
and Still he delayed. She was almost impatient

J 95

OSCAR BROWNING

in giving her approval of the many proj efts for the
great work which was to establish once for all his
literary reputation.

Like a dutiful son he accepted her criticisms,
her irony and her encouragement with equal com¬
placency. For his poverty he couldnot quite account.
It was always unpleasant to contemplate, and
the matter became serious when the bank refused
to cash any more of his cheques. He was “ poorer
than St. Anthony,” for he had not even his tempta¬
tions. “ I try to be economical,” he says, “ but you
know that for me it is very difficult.” But he
reflected that there are two ways of being rich, by
earning much or spending little, and “ those who
do not do the one must be content with the other.”
As for his position in letters, the impression con¬
tinued to grow upon him that he had a Style,
and if only he could give more time to writing,
recognition would assuredly follow. There indeed
was the rub. It was impossible to do much of his
own work at Cambridge. If he could retire like
his friend John Addington Symonds to the Alps
every summer . . .

But mother and son only referred to these
questions incidentally. Their letters as a rule are
compounded of those petty details which in their
sum make up the tale of human life, and they are
illuminated by a deep devotion, which on his side
Stood revealed in her not infrequent illnesses. “ I
should be sorry,” he writes on one such occasion,
“ if a day were to pass without your hearing from
me, or my hearing from you. There is always an
excitement when the post arrives. Mrs. Spinks ”
(his bed-maker) “ rushes into my bedroom at 7.30
and waits whilst I read the morning bulletin. She
is quite as excited, as I am. Indeed there is great
interest about you in the whole College. I cannot
tell how constantly I am thinking about you.” She

196

MARGARET MARIANA BROWNING, OSCAR’S
MOTHER, AT THE AGE OF 84

HIS LOVE FOR HIS MOTHER

suffered much towards the end of her life from the
damp and cold of the English winters. George
Eliot sends her a foot-warmer which she has found
“ most efficacious againSt the distressing malady of
cold feet.” And Oscar Browning is constantly
advising her to keep large fires, advice he himself
followed in his rooms at Cambridge even at mid¬
summer. The cold makes him shudder, but on
her account. “ This horrid wind cuts me like a
knife.” “ This weather is most cruel and you
cannot imagine how angry I feel at the biting
wind.”

This intimacy between mother and son, which
had been cemented by fifteen years’ work together
at Eton, lasted unimpaired to the end of her life.
Sometimes the high-spirited and tenacious old lady
was depressed. She saw so little of him, even in
the vacations, and her plans for their spending
them together so rarely came to anything. Old age
was a burden too heavy to be borne. It was time
she passed from a scene where her work was done.
On such occasions he consoles her. “ I cannot
think,” he says, “ how you can suppose that
you have ‘ lived too long ! Is not your society the
greatest delight to your children, and would not
your death be the greatest blow they could receive ?
I assure you that any illness you have goes like a
pang to my heart, and I hope for fine weather
chiefly because it is good for you. What could be
done for you this summer ? If we had gone
together, where could we have gone to ? Any
place which would have suited you would have
done me no good.” When in extreme old age she
paid the universal debt to Nature, his words were
verified. Not a day, not a night passed on which
his thoughts did not lend her a vicarious existence
in the world from which she had passed. Oscar
Browning never seems to have had any doubts,

s 97

OSCAR BROWNING

not even when he dallied with Positivism in the
’sixties, in the immortality of the human soul.
He was as convinced in the reality of the life of the
spirit as he often was in the unreality of that which
men lead in the flesh. And his mother to the end
remained very close to him :

“ Whene’er at night I lie awake,

Faces possession of me take.

And clustering round from out the gloom.

Beset me in my little room.

Mother, with voice and manner mild.

Keeps watch upon her darling child.

And, loving both, in serious mood,

ArreSts the bad and Stirs the good.”

Thus begin some lines which he wrote when he was
eighty. Whatever the merit of the poem there is
no question of its sincerity. But though he had
the consolations that religion and philosophy could
afford, her loss was in a very real sense to him
irreparable, and her death in 1889 left a gap in his
life which nothing could fill. There was no one
now with kindly hand, “ to arreSt the bad and Stir
the good,” no woman, no member of the sex
which, as he himself observed in the wisdom of
his age, is the more sensible in the ordinary affairs
of existence, to prune him of his foibles, to urge
him to the endeavour which the occupations of
the moment continually hindered.

198

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CHAPTER XII

TOWARDS THE IDEAL

I

The occupations of the moment, however, were
not unimportant. Two of these, which were never
absent from his thoughts, interested him vitally
and professionally. They were the history school
at Cambridge and the training of teachers. Both
were essential to the cultured, democratic England
which his philosophic radicalism postulated. The
Cambridge history school was to be the intellectual
pakeStra of young Statesmen. It was to train the
neophyte to take a broad and unprejudiced view
of human affairs, to learn to weigh truth in the
rough balance of human aCtion, to realise how
traditionalism and idealism, the inStinCt of order
and the love of liberty, were the twin blades of the
shears with which man’s destiny on our planet has
been carved out. Nourished with this feeling for
the past and this reverence for the future, their
knowledge and enthusiasm seasoned with a lively
interest in the politics of the day, the men who read
for the Historical Tripos would become fitted to
take their place in the ranks of the governing class,
either at home or in the Empire.

Equally practical was his other interest, the train¬
ing of teachers, which ultimately came to do minat e
his work at Cambridge. The key to the future lay
in education. England, already threatened by
young rivals among the nations, could only continue
to hold her place by its means, and through it alone

199

OSCAR BROWNING

could the people achieve true freedom and the
culture inseparable from it. But we could only
enjoy a better system of education if we had the
teachers to impart it. The ideal schoolmaster, and
Oscar Browning was not thinking in this matter of
any particular class, should have a mind which
responded to the intelle&ual influences of the time,
and he should know the technique of teaching.
This was an art that had to be learnt, a science that
should be taught in the University. It was import¬
ant, of course, that men going to Staff the great
public schools should know something about the
theory and practice of their profession, instead of
always remaining ignorant of the one and learning
the other at the expense of their pupils. But it
was much more important that the older Univer¬
sities, and more especially Cambridge with its
traditional leanings towards Liberalism, should send
out its graduates into the elementary schools.
Only in this way could there be built up a complete
educational system with a real interdependence
between its various branches. In his conception
of the true end of historical Study he was the disciple
of Seeley. But as regards the need for the training
of teachers, and more especially for providing a
University education for elementary school teachers,
he was a pioneer in Cambridge. The Struggle was
long, the issue often in doubt. After sixteen years
a measure of victory was achieved by the creation
of a Day Training College, an institution born into
the world of Cambridge without a home and almost
without funds. It was not, however, until the
present century was well on its way that the full
importance of the movement which he and Henry
Sidgwick had initiated was generally recognised in
the University.

200

A CONFLICT WITH G. W. PROTHERO

II

In both these questions he was perfe&ly clear as
to what he wanted, and was always ready for battle
in support of his views. Thus on the question of
the Historical Tripos he came into conflift with
G. W. Prothero, whose subordinate colleague he
then was on the teaching Staff of King’s. Prothero
wished to alter the Tripos in the direction of making
it more purely historical. Oscar Browning was
anxious to keep it as it was, “ a school of the political
sciences,” and the fa& that for once he was a
Conservative did not detract from the fun of the
controversy. He adopted the congenial role of
pamphleteer and dragged in Henry VIII and
George I. “ The Professorship of Modern History
and Modern Languages was founded by George I
to train public servants for the service of the State.
It was to be analogous to the schools which
flourished during the kst century at Gottingen and
at Strassburg, to the Ecole des Sciences Politiques
in Paris, to the Schools of Political Science in
America. This high endeavour, imagined by
Henry VIII on the dissolution of the monasteries,
set on foot by the genius of Sir Robert Walpole,
neglefted by the apathy of succeeding generations,
has been realised in the Cambridge of our own
day by the creation of the Triposes of History and
of Modem Languages and ought not to be lightly
thrown away.” His championship for the “ clear¬
headed thinker,” such as the Historical Tripos
turned out, as against “ the laborious sciolist whose
mind was a mere magazine of fafts and who
twittered like a sparrow on the house-tops,” was
successful. “ Our great debate about the Historical
Tripos,” he says, “ has come off and my opinion
has prevailed over that of Prothero. What is

201

OSCAR BROWNING

more important, the Tripos remains an excellent
examination.”

Ill

When Oscar Browning returned to Cambridge
in 1876 the University ignored its responsibilities
in the matter of the training of teachers. Almost
at once he began preparing memorials on* the
question, and when in 1879 the Teachers’ Training
Syndicate was established at a yearly cost to the
University CheSt of £100, his efforts were recognised
by his being made Secretary. The Syndicate
arranged courses of lectures on the Theory, the
Practice and the History of Education, and examina¬
tions were held once or twice yearly. When the
le&ures began in the Oftober term of 1879 they
were a great success, being attended by nearly a
hundred Students, though women were in a very
large majority. But when in the following year
these were no longer free and a fee of a guinea was
charged, the numbers dropped away at once. So
we find R. H. Quick, who had given the scheme his
blessing from the Start, writing on its difficulties
three years later in an unhopeful Strain: “ The
Cambridge scheme seems on the point of falling
through ; and this is surely not to be wondered at.
The British public is ignorant and indifferent. . . .
The great bulk of the teaching profession is satisfied.
The ordinary Head Master can see little amiss in
the system which has produced him. So it is only
juSt a few of the most aftive-minded of our school¬
masters who see that things can’t remain as they
are. . . . Still, when a few a&ive-minded men keep
hammering away on the same nail, the same nail
does show a tendency to intrude, and so at Cam¬
bridge and elsewhere they have got people to assent
to the proposition that ‘ something should be

202

A SUCCESS AT BIRMINGHAM

done ! ’ ” Now, said Quick, that the whole thing
had been pronounced a failure, the Syndicate would
very likely not be reappointed and the thing would
be given up altogether.

But he underrated the persistence and deter¬
mination of the esprits remnants in this question of
the training of teachers. The Syndicate continued
a modeSt existence, the number of its examinees
gradually grew, and ultimately it was able to report
to the University on the desirability of establishing
a Training College for Teachers.

IV

Throughout the ’eighties O. B. fought the battle
of education with passionate sincerity. To the
ordinary Englishman it is a dull, if not a tiresome,
subjeft, and this may be the reason why his efforts
never met with fuller appreciation. He did never¬
theless manage to create something of a sensation
with his presidential address to the Education
Seftion at the Birmingham Social Science Congress
in 1884. People overwhelmed him with “ compli¬
ments and kindness.” He was told that he was
the “one member of the Congress who had impressed
his individuality on the town,” he was pursued by
autograph hunters, and indeed began to think
himself “ a sort of Gladstone on a small scale.” One
can understand that to an industrial centre like
Birmingham his address went home with special
force. “ England,” he said, “ Still maintains her
position at the head of the industrial world. But
the progress made by the continental nations during
the past half-century has been immense. When less
than half a century ago continental mechanics
began to conStruft railways and to ereft modem
mills and mechanical workshops, they found them¬
selves face to face with an industrial organisation

203

OSCAR BROWNING

existing in England which was almost a sealed book
to those who could not obtain access to our own
factories.” He went on to point out that in the
production of synthetic dyes and in the develop¬
ment of electricity Germany was already ahead of
us. This economic progress was due to special
training based upon a substratum of sound secondary
education. “ The sceptre is Still in our hands,
although its possession is claimed by our rivals.
We can only retain it by learning their arts and by
setting our house in order without loss of time.”

He did not, however, confine himself to the com¬
mercial aspe£t of the question. It was especially
important that a nation on whom had fallen the
mantle of imperial Rome should do its very best
with the material it possessed. He drew a picture
of the facilities of self-improvement offered to a
clever German boy, who could pass through all the
Stages to the University “ with no more expense than
a modeSt household could afford or than could be
easily supplied by charitable or public funds.” In
England it was otherwise. “ An English boy
similarly born has none of these advantages. It is
not every town that has a grammar school, and the
entrance is often barred to the poor.” Chance
charity occasionally helped a promising boy, but
it was uncertain and capricious. Men did attain
distinction in different walks of life after Starting
from the humblest origins. This was often urged
as a justification for the existing system. To him
it did not appear in that light. “ The instances
of which I have investigated the details have been
such accidents, and yet their success has been so
marked, that I have been drawn to think rather of
the tens who have failed than of the units who have
succeeded, and of the ore which lies buried in our
social Strata rather than of the bright coins which
circulate from hand to hand. If a field of coal, or of

204

HIS SOCIAL IDEALS

some other mineral, lies unworked and unused, yet
it is always there. It may be kept for some future
age when its wealth will be more needed, and
posterity will bless the prescience and parsimony of
their ancestors who refrained from using it. But
the human mind is born and lives and perishes. If
it is unenlightened it passes away into its native
darkness. We lose not only all that it might have
given us of itself, but the enlightenment of other
minds which would have drawn illumination from
its brightness. By not educating our masses accord¬
ing to the measure of their capacity we squander
both principal and interest. We cast the ‘ one
talent which ’tis death to hide into the depths of the
ocean ’ and cannot produce it when called upon for
an account.”

Then he sketched the plan of the system of
secondary education such as England, in his opinion,
ought to possess. It included the establishment
of local educational councils, the provision of three
times the existing number of secondary schools,
the State inspection of all schools, security of tenure
for schoolmasters and their registration after com¬
pulsory training, the transfer of the power of
appointing Head Masters from Governing Bodies
to an official board of educational experts. “ The
time will come,” he said, “when the amount
contributed by the Budget to the expense of national
education will be considered as an index of the
national prosperity. The organisation, I might say
the creation, of secondary education is the moSt
pressing question in the whole political horizon:
it is connefted with social questions of the moSt
momentous character. The depopulation of our
villages, the dull routine of our country labourers,
who have improved very little in the last half-
century, the backwardness of our agriculture and
its inability to cope with new conditions, the

205

OSCAR BROWNING

absence of the higher pleasures, the addiction to
vulgar merry-making which is the parent of luSt and
crime, the estrangement of classes, the idle luxury
of the rich side by side with the ignorant toil of the
poor, the Strife between capital and labour, bred in
ignorance, nurtured in prejudice, do not all these
things show us that the mass of our nation requires
a great intellectual lift, which shall form a solid
foundation for special instruction, make rational
enjoyments possible for the multitude, and knit
the bonds of sympathy between man and man ? ”

V

Such was the ideal. But progress towards it
was to be guided by Statesmanlike principles. There
were to be no shibboleths, no quack remedies. The
talk, for instance, of free education “ made him
sick.” “ It is Strange to find,” he says in a letter
to the Press, “ free education lifted to the rank of a
political maxim. ... As one who regards the
present condition of education in England as
deplorable, as the cause of most of our grievances
and discontents, as producing a vague malaise
that we are every year losing ground to the better
trained foreigner, the only importance of this
political movement is whether it will help or not
in the great cause, whether it will help us to obtain
an efficiently organised system of education. Free
education might, or might not, do this. Let us not
ask now for free education but for more education.”

In the meantime at Cambridge the causes which
he had at heart prospered, or at least were kept
alive. History continued to attract men from
classics, law and moral sciences, till in the end its
numbers became an embarrassment, and history
dons, though not O. B., winced under the imputation
of their school being a Lotus land for lazy young

206

THE TRAINING OF TEACHERS

men who wanted an honours degree on the easiest
terms. And year by year the University training
of teachers grew more of a pra&ical question. The
Royal Commission of 1886, presided over by Sir
R. A. Cross, one of the members being Cardinal
Manning, brought the matter into the arena of
public discussion, making the position of the
intransigeants , amongst whom was, of course. Dr.
Hornby, less possible of defence than before. Did
not even Matthew Arnold, whom the Liberal
educationalists had never trusted, declare that to
teach teaching was difficult, but that it ought to
be done ?

The evidence before the Commission showed,
however, that there was no unanimity upon the
desirability of elementary school teachers graduating
at the Universities. On the contrary, the Principals
of existing Training Colleges were rather inclined
to be suspicious of a policy which if successful
might detract from their own importance, and Con¬
servatives generally were irritated by what they
considered a piece of Utopian nonsense. The
only reason, they thought, why University graduates
were to be encouraged to become teachers in
elementary schools was that these “ should be
raised to the level of Eton and Harrow.” P.
Cumin, however, the Permanent Secretary to the
Board of Education, questioned by one member
of the Commission on the point, denied that
this was “the theory of it.” He pointed out
that the better the class of teacher, the better
his teaching was likely to be and the better his
influence over children, and instanced Scotland
as a country where there was a close connexion
between the elementary schools and the Uni¬
versities. Thus with the support of Whitehall
the prospeft became much more hopeful, and it is
noteworthy that the Teachers’ Training Syndicate

207

OSCAR BROWNING

Report two years later, in which Oscar Browning
as secretary was the moving spirit, recommended
the continuation of the £100 a year grant on the
ground that maintaining lectures on educational
subjefts in the University had a material effeft in
developing public opinion in favour of the pro¬
fessional training of teachers generally.

Finally, in 1890, a new Code of Regulations
issued by the Board of Education with Parliamentary
sanftion made the way clear for the establishment of
a Day Training College in Cambridge. The
Syndicate in its Report in the following February
called attention to this, and Stated that in its opinion
the University should avail itself of the offer of the
Education Department to give grants to Students
of Universities who were attached to Day Training
Colleges by the establishment of a College in
Cambridge. This would form a link between the
University and the elementary education of the
country, and would tend to raise the charafter and
Status of elementary teachers. The scheme had the
advantage of entailing no expenditure on the
University. The Syndicate then made two recom¬
mendations : (1) that the Teachers’ Training

Syndicate should be empowered to make applica¬
tion on behalf of the University to the Committee
of the Council of Education to allow the establish¬
ment of a Day Training College for Men to be
attached to the University, and (2) that the College
should be managed by a local Committee, partly
of members of the Syndicate and partly of others
appointed by it, the whole remaining under the
control of the Syndicate. Amongst those who
signed this Report were two intimate friends of
Oscar Browning, Montagu Butler, who was Vice-
Chancellor at the time, and Henry Sidgwick.

It met with plenty of criticism. It was said that
it would be impossible for Students to carry on the

208

ESTABLISHMENT OF THE D.T.C.

two branches of work side by side, either their
University work or their professional training would
suffer, and most probably indeed it would be both.
How too could there be a College without the
expenditure of a large capital sum to provide
buildings and without the provision of an annual in¬
come to pay for teachers ? And if the Students really
attended to their job and justified their Government
grant, they would only be sham University men,
living by themselves, not belonging to Colleges
and taking no part in the ordinary University
undergraduate life. Oscar Browning did not allow
himself to be influenced by these specious and
plausible arguments. He was convinced that he
and those who shared his view were right and that
all these prophecies would prove to be wrong. His
prescience was justified, thanks largely to the single¬
ness of purpose with which he Strove to make the
venture a success. As with the future of the
new King’s, so with that of the yet unborn Day
Training College, he had no doubts, or if he had
them he never let them appear. Even supporters
like Sedley Taylor, when the Report came up before
the Senate, grew frightened and, expressing all sorts
of fears, that the Government examinations might
prove too difficult and that Cambridge could not
provide teachers for them, suggested that the proj eft
should be dropped till Oftober. Though the
Report was non-placeted, it was carried and nothing
remained but to negotiate with the Department of
Education. The University was represented in
these pourparlers by Oscar Browning, Henry
Sidgwick and Professor James Ward, and by August
1891 they were complete. Official sanction was
then given to the opening of the College. Oscar
Browning and Henry Sidgwick met in London and
discussed whether they could open the College
without the final orders of the University to that
p 209

OSCAR BROWNING

effect. They overcame their hesitations, and. al¬
though they did not escape criticism for thus
taking the law into their own hands, the fait
accompli was recognised and Cambridge had the
satisfaftion of obtaining a year’s Start over Oxford
in this new phase of University activity.

YI

At last Oscar Browning, when he was fifty-four,
found himself in a position where he could be
something of an autocrat, and in his rule over the
newly-eStablished College show those powers of
leadership and administration which hitherto he had
had no power of displaying. Everything had to
be created. The College was formless and home¬
less. It had no funds and the Principal’s salary was
£xo a year. But if it lacked everything else it was
not without idealism, and Mr. H. G. Wilson, the first
Student to enter his name on the College books, has
remarked how O. B. was “ indefatigable ” in every¬
thing appertaining to the College, of which the
head-quarters were his rooms in King’s. Here he
coached the three Students, who for the first year
of the existence of the College made up the number
of its pupils, in elementary classics and history for
the General, their knowledge of Greek and Latin
being small. It was a new experience for him to be
brought into contact with undergraduates who had
worked their way through the elementary schools
to become pupil-teachers, and he has recorded die
pleasure their “ virile and self-denying ” qualities
gave him in comparison with Etonian and other
public-school boys. The Students were naturally
poor—many of them passed through the University
on £60 and £70 a year—and their force of character
and Strong individuality impressed this connoisseur
of young men.

210

PROGRESS OF THE TRAINING COLLEGE

If there were only three entries the first year, the
second there were ten, most of these joining Colleges,
as O. B. had prophesied they would. Eight of
them, to his “ delight and dismay,” Stated their
intention of reading for honours; to his delight
because it showed that the men meant to get the
moSt out of their University career, to his dismay
because the arrangements with the Board of Educa¬
tion 'had not foreseen such a contingency. These
difficulties were easily overcome, and the Students
belied the croakers in showing that it was quite
possible to read for honours whilst undergoing
their training and taking their diplomas as teachers.
They proved to be immensely hard workers, and
O. B., in the last year of his reign as Principal, was
able to point out that the percentage of first and
second classes was higher than that of any College
at Oxford or Cambridge, whilst on the professional
side'the Students were Stated to have done better
than those of any other Training College entering
for the examination. As the numbers grew the
Staff was gradually increased. Permanent premises
were found in Warkworth Street, and Warkworth
House remains its head-quarters to-day, when with
150 Students the College is as flourishing as the
optimism of its first Principal ever imagined.

As Principal O. B. had many difficulties to over¬
come. On the one side was an apathetic Committee,
the members of which were extremely slack in
attending its meetings, and on one occasion at least
he and the Chairman had to transact the business
alone. When the College grew to be an important
institution and to be recognised as such outside
Cambridge, the tune changed, and the Committee,
from taking too little, began to take too much
interest ana often prevented the Principal from
having his own way. There is a good deal of
truth in what he used to say, that when he had

2ix

OSCAR BROWNING

succeeded in obtaining the recognition of the train¬
ing of teachers “ as a work worthy of man and not
as a mere fad, other people came in to try and
colleft the kudos.” But in the earlier years he had
no difficulties of this kind, and he was able, on the
very important question of establishing a secondary
department, to secure the adoption by the University
of his view, that it should be attached to the existing
institution and should not be an entirely separate
venture, as at Oxford.

The Board of Education, too, though sympa¬
thetic on the whole, was guided by its regulations,
and Oscar Browning had never found it easy to
observe regulations. Sometimes these were quite
inapplicable to the special conditions of Cambridge,
where the Students were living the normal under¬
graduate life. Tradition has it how on one occasion
a visit was paid to the College by an inspector of
physical training, a subject which at Cambridge,
where physical fitness is in no need of artificial
Stimulants, was tacitly ignored. The announcement
caused some consternation, but O. B. declared him¬
self equal to dealing with the emergency. He met
H.M.’s inspector at the Station and proceeded to
show him the sights of the University, not failing,
as they sauntered from Trinity to King’s, to call his
attention to the fine physique of the undergraduates.
Luncheon in his rooms followed and O. B., with
that ingratiating gastronomic background, con¬
versed as one man of the world to another. Then
came the business of the day and he accompanied his
guest to his inspection. It happened that afternoon
that a leCture was being given by a member of the
Staff who was a tall and slender and by no means
an athletic-looking individual. They entered the
class, and O. B. followed the usual introductions
by laying his hand upon his assistant’s shoulder
and saying: “ There, did you ever see a finer

ziz

AN AUTOCRATIC PRINCIPAL

type of physical manhood ? ” And the inspector,
being a wise man, held his peace. But things
wete not always so amenable, and as age grew
upon him his irritation with the Board of Educa¬
tion and its permanent officials increased, till to
hear him talk one would have thought them the
products of some TsariSt regime. The only educa¬
tion Minister who had earned his unqualified esteem
was'Sir John GorSt, who held that office, of course,
in a Conservative Government.

To his Staff he was an autocrat. When in 1902
the growth of the College necessitated the appoint¬
ment of a Lecturer in Education, he secured the
services of Dr. S. S. F. Fletcher, whom he brought
from Germany to fill this post. To him he resigned
moSt of the aftual teaching and the details of admin¬
istration, though he kept the threads in his own
hands. He did not disguise, indeed, the pleasure
he took in the exercise of his authority, which was
all part of the creative process moulding a new
institution. One of his rules was that every member
of the Staff should make him a detailed weekly
report on the work of his pupils. Once during a
prolonged illness of Dr. Fletcher this proved an
onerous burden, and one of them suggested that the
practice might be temporarily suspended. “ Cer¬
tainly not, my dear fellow,” was O. B.’s answer,
“ When I get your reports I feel like Napoleon
reading the reports of his marshals.” Like other
autocrats he sometimes interfered in what seemed
trifling details. Thus when the head-quarters of
the College were moved to Warkworth House, the
resident members of the Staff, who, unlike most
University teachers, were occupied during the
afternoons and were thus unable to take the usual
forms of exercise, decided to use a small backyard,
otherwise neglected, for badminton, and for this
purpose put wire netting round the walls at their

213

OSCAR BROWNING

own expense. When O. B. discovered it he was
put out, observing that badminton was a “ moSt
undignified game ” and that he ought to have been
consulted before anything of the kind had been
done. The Staff, conscious in their re&itude of
purpose, continued to enjoy occasional games until
the end of the term. When they returned after
the vacation they found that the wire netting round
the court had been removed by the orders of the
Principal. The appearance, too, of a new clock
in Warkworth House caused him much uneasiness
that was only allayed by his own presentation of
another and the disappearance of the offending
timepiece. But if in little things his interference
was apt to irritate, there was no limit to the paternal
kindness he would show to any of his subordinates,
with all of whom he cultivated the closest social
relations, which were emphasised by his entertaining
them all to dinner every year on his birthday.

The Students, or at least a good many of them,
found him something of an enigma. They came to
Cambridge without experience of the graces of
social intercourse, and his absence of pose and his
geniality rather nonplussed them. But those who
presumed to take liberties soon learnt to their cost
that this ease and bonhomie were the result of a
sophisticated and highly developed culture of which
the sense of dignity was an important ingredient.
Oscar Browning was not a man to be “ ragged.”
On his side he did not attempt to cultivate those
intimacies with the Students which lifted education
to poetic heights. The note of inquiry, however,
in which he so profoundly believed, he introduced
into the work of the College by holding a weekly
“ Seminar ” in his rooms at which educational
subje&s were brought to the bar of discussion,
though the difference between this and the Political
Society, where the members sat about informally

214

PERSONAL INTEREST IN THE STUDENTS

and the President lay back in his easy-chair and
affected sleep, was marked by its being held round
his dining-room table, with himself seated at one
end and Dr. Fletcher at the other. Like the
Political Society, the “ Seminar ” has outlived its
founder and is very much alive in the Training
College to-day.

His personal interest in the Students never
flagged, and he followed their subsequent careers
with a pride which was inspired by his belief in the
work that the College was doing. He records his
admiration for one old Student who, after taking a
second class in the Tripos, went to teach little
children of the first Standard at a Board School in the
Waterloo Road, and reminded him there of
PeStalozzi amongst the orphans of Stanz; or his
appreciation of another who turned from the
atmosphere of high thinking and hard work which
surrounded the College to go to a racing centre
where he found that his pupils were making books
instead of reading them. O. B., in spite of his
Epicurean desire to taSte of all the things in which
humanity delights, never readied to the excitement
of horse-racing, and the few visits he paid to New¬
market seem to have been inspired by purely social
incentives. In his middle age he learnt to play
poker, and he was not above a mild gamble on the
tables of Monte Carlo. But though he placed fox¬
hunting with mountaineering and Standing for
Parliament as the three most exciting things within
the range of his experience, racing lay well outside
his interests.

Thus it was that from modeSt beginnings and in
the face of much scepticism Oscar Browning built
up an institution which he firmly believed would in
time set a new tone to English elementary educa¬
tion. From the time when he returned to Cam¬
bridge labouring under the discredit of his dismissal

215

OSCAR BROWNING

from Eton, he worked Steadily and almost alone
towards the ends which he had in view. It is
true that these became clarified through the contact
with elementary education which he gained from
being Secretary of the Teachers’ Training Syndicate.
But his vision had already enabled him to conceive,
in its main outlines, the end to be attained, and for
thirty years he worked Steadily for its realisation.
In Cambridge his contribution to English educa¬
tion was never recognised, as indeed the incidents
connected with his forced resignation in 1909
sufficiently prove. Reasons may be found for this.
The training of teachers, for one thing, is not of
itself an inspiring subj eft, whilst the material it
added to Cambridge undergraduate life was rather
sound than brilliant. And for another, O. B.’s
belief that colleagues conspired to ignore his work,
irritated his contemporaries not altogether unjustifi¬
ably. It resulted in this sort of attitude : “ You
have seen my doings in the papers,” he writes to his
mother somewhere in the middle of the ’eighties,
“ and apropos of this I had an amusing conversation
with an undergraduate yesterday. He said: ‘ I
never open the paper without seeing your name in
it.’ I said: £ Are you surprised ? ’ He then said:
‘ But I never see any other University names.’ I
again said : ‘ Are you surprised ? ’ I then explained
that no one is a prophet in his own country and
that it is better to have a reputation outside one’s
country than in it.”

The honour with which he met “ outside his
own country ” had led to his being decorated by the
French Government for his work in education and
to his being President in 1898 of the Association of
Principals and Lefturer in Training Colleges under
Government Inspeftion, when for his presidential
address he took the subjeft of his favourite child,
the Day Training College. Its excellence was

216

HIS SUCCESS AS PRINCIPAL

freely recognised. “ I think you know,” writes one
who had already attained diStin&ion in the same
field, “ that I have a habit of speaking my mind and
am not given to flattery, and that when I say that
no other Training College approaches that at
Cambridge, I mean what I say. ... I have been
round to the four London residential Colleges, and
even at Westminster, where the normal work—
under Mr. Cowham—is admittedly a great feature,
I saw nothing in my opinion to better the work I
saw at Cambridge; ana the men I saw there were
good Senior Students, not freshers. Warkworth
House has sprung up with the unexpectedness ot an
Aladdin’s Palace. It is imposing, yet it does not
dominate the Day Training College men to the
exclusion of their College and University interests,
which is as it should be.”

2I 7

CHAPTER XIII

MUSIC AND CONTROVERSY

I

But the prophetic role has its drawbacks. Amidst
Oscar Browning’s battling for unpopular or de-
pised causes one notices a growing embitterment
with colleagues. These cease to be as “ kind and
affeftionate ” as before. Not only do they seem to
him determined not to recognise the place he was
winning in the world; they give him the impres¬
sion that they would like to get rid of him, that
to this end they mean to “ Starve him out.” It
was, of course, absurd. He was helping to demo¬
cratise Cambridge, to infuse a new spirit into
education. And in consequence of his other
occupations the great literary work which was to
set the seal on his reputation had yet to be written.
But outside the University he was recognised as a
person of distinction. During the London season
he was overwhelmed with invitations from the
great world which necessitated tiring journeys to
London by a late afternoon train and an* equally
early return to Cambridge the next morning. He
was in request too as a speaker at Liberal meetings,
where his jingoism on occasion refuted the Tories’
claim to a “ monopoly of patriotism,” and had he
only possessed a private income the political career
after which he hankered would have been waiting
for him almost ready made. If the illustrated
Christmas number of the World was any criterion
he was <c among the fifty most distinguished persons

218

A ROYAL OPPORTUNITY MISSED

in England,” who appeared in silhouette grouped
under their Christian names. In that procession
he brought up the rear of the trio of Oscars, of
which the van was led by Wilde, not a little to
the irritation of his mother, who expressed her
“ dislike of the man.” Small things, however,
sometimes indicated that the tide might turn.
One night, for example, he dreams of an earth¬
quake, which he believes is very lucky, and sure
enough the following morning’s post brings him
requests to examine foi the Indian Civil Service
and to lefhxre at the Birmingham Midland Institute,
both of which are “ honourable and lucrative.”

Not always was he so fortunate. Sometimes he
missed by an accident the thing which he would
have liked greatly. A tutor, for instance, had to
be found for Prince Eddie, and the post was given
to Jim Stephen because, as O. B. believed, the
member of the Prince of Wales’s entourage who
came up to Cambridge to arrange about it failed
to find him in his rooms. To train the future
King of England, to follow in the footsteps of
Aristotle, Seneca, Bossuet and Hobbes would have
been the most congenial of occupations, would
have rounded off his work as an educator of States¬
men in an incomparable manner. For that it would
have been worth while to leave, for a year or two,
Cambridge and his schemes. A chance which
came at about the same time of going round the
world with a young man of less exalted rank he
resigned to a Fellow of All Souls’, for he considered
that thus to cut a year out of his life would have
been a waste of time. But the Ulysses Strain in
O. B., the Strain which gave him his passion for
travel and made him say that to the true tourist
it was worth while going to a place to know that
there was nothing worth seeing there, caused his
mouth to water at this chance of visiting the

219

OSCAR BROWNING

Antipodes, which he had “ always longed to do.”
More' seriously in 1890, under the Strain of the
Starving-out process, he considered Standing for
the Professorship of History in Sydney, being
dissuaded by Lord Latymer, who, to other argu¬
ments, added the opportune gift of an allowance
of £100 a year, which enabled O. B. to economise
on his frequent visits to Town by taking chambers
at the bottom of St. James’s Street, above' the
Post Office.

The year before ProvoSt Okes had died at an
advanced age, and Oscar Browning had received
another proof that he had no following amongst
the King’s dons. The claims of AuSten-Leigh to
succeed to the ProvoStship were pre-eminent and
O. B. was amongst his supporters. Not even when
Nixon, whom ever since the incident in connexion
with the ele&ion to the office of Dean he had
regarded with distrust, led a party in favour of
Henry Sidgwick did he for an instant waver.
Sidgwick might be his most intimate friend. But
he was “ an unbeliever ”; besides, promotion,
O. B. considered, should remain in the regiment,
and Sidgwick was a Fellow of Trinity. So that
although AuSten-Leigh, knowing their friendship,
magnanimously wrote to O. B. to release him from
any promise of support, O. B. never hesitated and
was one of the considerable majority which voted
for AuSten-Leigh. His election caused the Vice-
ProvoStship to become vacant, and it really did
look as if he might be chosen to fill the second
position in the College. But it slipped away.
“ The young Liberals,” he writes, “ are very anxious
for me, but the Tories and the weak-kneed people,
amongst whom I am afraid I muSt reckon Prothero,
seem to prefer ‘Whitting.” Whitting was elected
without opposition, much to O. B.’s disgust, for
the time when he and Whitting used to give parties

220

A BELIEF IN GHOSTS

together to the elite had passed beyond recall.
Oscar tells his mother about it and adds: “ I
thought that I should feel it, but now it has hap¬
pened I do not do so in the least. I am not one
of those to whom the prizes of the world fall.”
In the same week he had the pleasure of emphasis¬
ing those unpopular Liberal principles which had
Stood in his way ever since he went to Eton by
presiding at a Liberal meeting at which George
Trevelyan was the principal 1 speaker. It was
followed by a large breakfast party the next morning
in his rooms, “ with much Liberal talk,” and George
Trevelyan, who had been his gueSt for the night,
declared when he left that he had never spent a
more pleasant twelve hours.

Why indeed should he worry about his fellow-
dons when life was such an exciting business ?
Every day there was something new. Either
King’s won their hockey match and O. B. nearly
scored a goal; or he played fives, or carpentered,
or took a Turkish bath, or rode eight miles on his
tricycle in the hour. And the evenings were
always full. He dined out, perhaps, at the
Sidgwicks “ with a distinguished party,” and after
dinner they abused Carlyle, “ agreeing that he was
a snob and could not forgive his wife for being
a lady.” Or the “ GhoSt Club ” (the Society
for Psychical Research) met in his rooms, and
the cat, which lived on his Staircase and under
ordinary circumstances would never cross his
threshold, surveyed the proceedings “in solemn
and mysterious grandeur” from the round table
that Stood in the middle of his drawing-room.
He had always been interested in psychical research.
“Thanks for the apparition Story,” writes Tennyson
to him on one occasion. O. B. had “hundreds
of ghoSt Stories in his possession with which to
convert the unbelievers,” Stories that, alas! are

222

OSCAR BROWNING

not to be found amongst his papers. But ghofts
in that academic atmosphere sometimes loft their
power to thrill, and he used to think that the lady
members of the Society read papers too full of
fafts to be entertaining.

And if ghofts were dull he preferred to be
amused by humans, notwithstanding that there
was in the world much folly which was anything
but amusing. He himself was not blameless. 'For
he confesses once "that he has played whift at the
Athenaeum and loft 15 r. But he excuses himself on
the ground that it was the firft time and he dared
say the laft that he would ever enter the card-
room at the club which is not associated, in the
public mind, with the vice of gambling; “ a piece
of astounding folly ” indeed. In a different category
is the misfortune which happens to Robbie Ross,
who had been ducked in the Fountain at King’s
for being an asfthete, and this although he had
rowed in the College boat, which, contrary to all
the traditions of King’s rowing, had gone up two
places. “ Poor dear Ross,” he writes to his mother
in March ’89, “ has been seized with a violent
brain attack, the result of the outrage preying
upon his mind. He was taken suddenly ill on
Friday night and was so bad that I was not allowed
to see him. They were afraid that he would kill
himself. However, his brother came down and
was able to take him to London. Poor fellow ! I
was afraid that something of the kind would
happen. He is terribly sensitive, and though he
bore the thing itself bravely, yet it was always
preying upon his mind. I do not know what
will become of him. I cannot tell you how dis¬
tressed we all are about it. His friends are devoted
to him.” It should be added that those who were
responsible for the incident were not the leaft
pained at its unfortunate consequences, and ex-

222

THE INGRATITUDE OF COLLEAGUES

pressed their regret to O. B. in a letter "which
brought it to an honourable, if not a satisfactory,
conclusion.

II

Naturally in a community where one had to be
continually fighting on matters of principle with
colleagues who were conservative, reactionary, or
merely obtuse, it was often necessary to use hard
words. Those, too, who lead a communal life
often get on each other’s nerves. Oscar Browning
noted with satisfaction that the shock of Henry
Bradshaw’s sudden death had made them all more
kindly and forbearing with one another. But it
wore off and things became worse than before.
He himself was drawn into passionate disputes. A
scholarship candidate, for instance, had put down
Caius as his first choice, by a clerical error as O. B.
maintained. He was a clever youth and O. B. was
accused of trying to filch him for King’s. It was a
monstrous charge and to make the matter Still
more monstrous the Tutor of King’s appeared to
give it credence. “ My grievance against you,”
O. B. writes to him, “is that on November 17
last” (the letter is dated the following March)
“ you treated me with injustice, with cruelty
and with ingratitude. ... You exposed me to the
vulgar insolence of Nixon and R. . . .” (Nixon,
as the many who knew and loved him will be
aware, was the mildest of men.) There follows a
resume, covering thirteen type-written pages, of
the differences which have interfered with their
personal relations. “ When I was talking to you
about these matters on November 30th, I remarked
that I had been very badly treated, and you replied :
‘ You have done a great deal of harm to the College,’
and walked away. I had not the least idea what

223

OSCAR BROWNING

you meant.” After all Eton, as O. B. pointed out,
had its advantages. “ The great merit of Eton,
with all its faults, lay in the faff that there existed
the fullest and freest intercourse between the
masters with regard to their pupils and their work.
We met the Head Master every day in Chambers
for that purpose, and for that purpose only. I
have always desiderated something of the kind at
King’s. As a body we know little of each other
in this respeft, and I hope at any rate that between
you and myself the confidence which once existed
may be restored.”

The difficulty was that when peace was restored
and one bone of contention had been decently
buried, he Stumbled over another. It was not his
fault and it was always perfectly clear that he was
in no way to blame. Others had been haSty or
inconsiderate; he had affced with entire singleness
of purpose. His mother had suggested long ago
that he was hyper-sensitive and that he “ imagined
what was never intended,” that he expected from
others more than they were capable of. But such
explanations he set aside. For it was his belief
that, since his fellow-dons could not prevent him
from carrying through the schemes which he had
at heart (so plain was the reasonableness of his
policy and so potent his advocacy), they were
determined to make life as difficult for him as
they could.

O. B.’s views were set out in a letter which he
wrote to Montagu Butler in 1894 apropos of
his candidature for the Professorship of History
in Glasgow: “ I was particularly gratified,” he
says, “ by your remarks about my beloved College.
Its success is nearer to my heart than anything
else. During the last eighteen years nine-tenths of
my work and thought have been given to the
pra&ical administration and the development of

224

A LETTER TO MONTAGU BUTLER

King’s, a fact which is known to very few outside
the place itself. During that time I have had no
really efficient helper in the development of the
College except Welldon during the short time he
was here, although there have been several good
workers. When I came here in 1876 I had an
advantage over my colleagues that I had conceived
very clearly what sort of an institution the College
ought to be. That has been very nearly worked
out, except that I have not altogether succeeded
in getting the ProvoSt, as he ought to be, the work¬
ing Head. Every Step in the development had to
be won by conflidt. For many years opinion was
so equally divided on fundamental questions that
I never dared absent myself from a meeting, how¬
ever apparently insignificant, for fear of an im¬
portant division turning the wrong way. Also
frequently I had to choose between getting a poSt
and money or getting my own way. My opponents
could prevent the first, but with a democratic con¬
stitution they could not prevent the second. Conse¬
quently my average Stipend from the College during
the laSt eighteen years has been £133 6 s. 8 d. The
battle has now been won and there is no chance of
things not going on rightly. If this were not so,
nothing would induce me to leave. But, as you
know, I rather like a Struggle, and one of the
attra&ions of Glasgow is that everything is to
make.” In spite of an imposing colleaion of
testimonials, however, Oscar Browning failed to
secure the vacant Professorship.

Ill

King’s had established its place in the University.
Statistics showed it. It was a consolation, when he
refledted on the folly of the Conservative dons in
his own College who would go on “ buying ”

0 225

OSCAR BROWNING

classical scholars from Eton, and on the jealousy
that the success of King’s was arousing in the
imperial heart of Trinity, to demonstrate by tables
of figures that over the period 1883-1892 the per¬
centage of first classes in King’s was 379 per cent.,
or 23*7 per cent, more than the next highest College,
St. John’s. And of these firsts, classics, in spite
of the shower of gold with which the classical
scholars were corrupted, only took a little 'over
half of the grand total. A pamphlet, which he
had printed at his own expense, set out the figures
so that all could see. With the passing of Jowett
and the inevitable decline of Balliol, King’s would
soon be the first College in either University.
And Oscar Browning unquestionably was the first
man in King’s.

IV

When he could derive consolation from Statistics,
it was not likely that rebuffs from colleagues, or
charges—absurdly unjust charges—of dishonourable
conduct in the matter of a scholarship examination,
would affe£t his exuberant vitality. Besides, if he
were a prophet without honour, always he was
O. B., a man of the world amongst recluses, a
celebrity amongst dons; a visit to whose rooms
had become a necessary part of the itinerary of
every distinguished visitor to Cambridge.

One morning he had a letter from the Princess
Mary, afterwards to become the first lady in the
land, saying that she and her brother were visiting
Cambridge that very day and would be delighted
to lunch with him. Time pressed, but O. B. affced
with Napoleonic promptitude. Private carriages
were borrowed, gueSts representative of Cambridge
life, the Master of Trinity, the President of the
Union and others, were hastily bidden. Luckily

ENTERTAINING ROYALTY

King’s had a cook, trained in the royal kitchens
at Windsor, who could confection regal dishes—■
before then his art had received the homage of
O. B.’s muse—and luckily too, as he flattered
himself, his own wine-cellar was that of a con¬
noisseur. By midday all was ready, including the
red carpet, though the amount required for the two
flight? of “ A ” Staircase, at the top of which Stood
his rooms, put a Strain on the resources of Cam¬
bridge. And the luncheon party of twelve passed off
without any suggestion of improvisation, the con¬
versation, thanks largely to Dr. and Mrs. Butler, flow¬
ing with the ordered ease which royalty appreciate.
Afterwards they drove round Cambridge, and
O. B., as cicerone, sat in the first carriage with his
auguSt gueSts. And when they passed a barrel-
organ which was playing “ The Man that Broke
the Bank at Monte Carlo,” the Prince began sing¬
ing that popular song and the Princess joined, and
O. B., throwing etiquette to the winds, sang it too.
A red-letter day.

He had entertained royalty before this with less
formality. When Prince Eddie had been in resi¬
dence at Trinity, O. B. one morning awoke an
undergraduate friend who slept on the same Stair¬
case. “ Jimmy,” he said, “ what do you think
happened to me last night ? ” The James thus
disturbed from slumber grunted sleepily. “ I was
given a bath by the future King of England.”
And O. B. then recounted how he had been show¬
ing the Prince the bath which he had had installed
in his rooms, and how the Prince had suggested
to the other undergraduate present that they should
then and there initiate him into the Order of the
Bath in the mediaeval Style. “Wasn’t that an
honour, Jimmy ? ” And with that question O. B.
half trotted and half rolled off to early Chapel or
to early shopping, for it was the early shopper who

227

OSCAR BROWNING

secured the best lobster, satisfied—who knows ?—
that he had for once succeeded in rousing a sluggard
under a decent veil of camouflage.

Yet it is detestable thus to read motives into
human conduit. O. B. followed the gleam—that
is all that can be said. As when climbing his
Staircase one morning with a basket under his
arm he espied through an open door the present
Librarian of the Foreign Office, then an under¬
graduate, Still rejoicing in his bed. It was natural
that O. B. should show a fellow-epicure a magnifi¬
cent lobster he had juSt secured at the fishmonger’s
in Petty Cury—now, alas, a multiple shop—that he
should sit on the end of the bed, and whilst talking
proceed to consume it, claw by claw. Still O. B.
was not without the fanaticism of those who rise
early.

“ Non sit vobis vanum mane surgere ante lucem,
quia promisit dominus coronam vigilantibus,” was
the text that ran like a frieze round the room
which served both for sleep and dining, and O. B.
was always anxious to assist others to obtain a lien
on the same crown. For an undergraduate whom
he used to chaff on his habit of reading history in
bed of a morning he composed the following
epitaph:

Non Kesurgam.

Hie Jacet
Uti Vivus Jacebat
Spe Tardse Resurre&ionis
Reginaldus Lesleius Brown *

Qui Res Olim Dissociabiles
Otium ac Laborem

Ita Conjunxit ut Dignosci non Possent.

He was immune from the fear-of-giving-himself-
away disease, for which medical science has so far

* The name here inserted is a fictitious one.

228

KING CONSTANTINE LIKES COOKING SHERRY

provided no prophylactic, an immunity that he
extended to others. The future King Constantine
of Greece, whose intelligence for royalty he rated
highly, was lunching with him. Upon his dining-
table there always Stood a plate of the biscuits
known as ginger-bread nuts, which at once Stimulate
thirst and deaden the palate. The Prince, engaged
in eager conversation, munched the biscuits and
sipped the sherry until both plate and decanter
were empty. “ A very excellent wine, Mr. Brown¬
ing,” he observed. “ I’m glad you like it. Sir.
It’s Gilbey’s shilling sherry,” was the too truthful
answer.

“ If you dine with O. B.,” said a Fellow of
King’s who belonged to the old school, “ beware
of his wines.” O. B. was perhaps too much of a
theorist, too good a European, too little in sym¬
pathy with the French genius, too much a Radical,
too ready to see good in every vintage, to be an
orthodox connoiseur of wine. The memory of
his Rhine and Moselle wines, which alone he was
able to drink in later life, of his Schloss Johannis-
berg and his BerncaSteler DoCteur, Still caress the
palate after twenty years. But he might prove
that the only sherry worth drinking in England
was that usually put in soups, precisely because
this alone was innocent of brandy, or burnt sugar,
or other ingredients to make it suitable for the
English palate, without dispelling the convi&ion
that he appreciated it not least for the faCt that it
cost a shilling the bottle.

V

Oscar Browning’s talk was, like himself, rotund,
exuberant, ample, with a certain bland naivete
which hovered between the deliberate and the
unconscious, and was equally valuable in disarming

229

OSCAR BROWNING

an opponent or in helping him to modulate into
the Rabelaisian, the malicious, or the egotistical,
the laSt of these being a key which always had a
compelling fascination for him. His conversation
moved in a broad and ample Stream, too full in
later life to sparkle, bearing upon its waters the
anecdotage, the chroniques scandaleuses of half a
century. General ideas it brought to the touch¬
stone of personal experience and thus easily led
back all subjects to himself. Quoi qu’on fasse, on
ne sort iamais de soi-meme —to O. B. this was not a
bitter, but a glorious, truth. The idiosyncrasy of
egotism grew upon him as his contemporaries
dropped away, as they died, or married, or became
absorbed in interests which were not his, and he
had to turn more and more to the companionship
of younger men. If in later life his conversational
supremacy were challenged he was apt to relapse
into silence, to close his eyes, inflate his cheeks and
set his knees in tremulous motion. Even so he
might intervene with disastrous effect to anyone
who was holding the table. Thus at one of his
Sunday luncheon parties a newly-created Liberal
peer, who had once for a short time held an office
of Cabinet rank, was explaining how he had
recently been through the list of his Division at
Eton, and how he had found that it contained
three future bishops, a judge or two and various
generals. “But,” he added triumphantly, “only
one boy became a Cabinet Minister.” “ Really,”
said O. B., suddenly opening his eyes, “ and who
was that ? ”

He was quick in repartee. A friend was com¬
plaining of the coldness of his wife and saying
that he might as well be living with a deal board.
“ Take care,” he replied, “ or you’ll find that you’ll
soon be living with someone a deal bawdier.”

One day a discussion arose in his rooms about
230

RETORT AND REPARTEE

the Botticelli picture of Venus rising from the sea,
of which an Arundel print hung upon his walls.
A would-be connoisseur asserted that the figure of
Venus was out of drawing and turned to O. B.
for confirmation. “ It’s no good asking me, my
dear fellow,” he answered blandly, “ I’ve never
seen a naked woman.”

When he was contesting one of the Liverpool
divisions in 1895 a heckler got up at a meeting
and asked whether it was not true that he was
Oscar Wilde’s uncle. “ No, sir,” he replied with¬
out a second’s hesitation, “ there is not the slightest
truth in the rumour, and even if there were I have
yet to learn that the sins of the nephews should
be visited upon the uncles.” And the laugh was
turned against the heckler.

For the female don he used another method.
A lefturer at Girton, who was his colleague upon
some University examination board and was irri¬
tated with him for giving indifferent marks to the
women candidates, wondered sweetly how he had
managed to look over all the papers so quickly.
He replied equally sweetly: “ Genius, madam,
sheer genius.”

Sometimes when argument was difficult and
going against him, he knocked his opponent down
in the true Johnsonian manner. To another don,
who refused to agree with his point of view and
upheld his own in language which betrayed his
American-German origin, he remarked at length:
“ My dear X., I can understand every language in
Europe except yours.”

One of the younger Fellows complained to him
one day that a third had been to him and said that
he would not give him his vote for some College
Committee because he had not got a firSt-class
mind, “ What should I have said ? ” the young
man asked. “ What should you have said ? ”

231

OSCAR BROWNING

repeated O. B. in a deeper bass than usual. “ Why,
you should have said that if you had not got a
firSt-class mind he had got a firSt-class bottom, and
that you would have much pleasure in kicking
it unless he cleared out of your rooms.”

VI

If O. B., like his hero Napoleon, aimait beaucoup
a causer et a se faire ecouter, he was not a talker
born, for he was always ready to exchange con¬
versation for music. Of all the arts music charmed
him the most, and of all composers Mozart held the
first place in his affections. As a boy at Eton he
recorded his loyalty in his diary; in 1922 he wrote
to Mr. Percy Scholes from Rome: “ My Mozart
concerts go on' splendidly every Monday at $.30.
We are now doing (for the second time) the quar¬
tets dedicated to Haydn and the performers are
enthusiastic. Beethoven has not a chance beside
him.”

Within this seventy years’ interval O. B. was
always the most zealous of amateurs. He belonged
to a type now growing rare, the type which likes
listening to music much but making it even more.
With magnificent, and, as his neighbours in King’s
used sometimes to think, with misguided courage,
he Struggled against his shortcomings as a pianist,
continuing to take lessons even when he was
eighty-three. But in this respeft, at least, he was
under no delusions as to his own capacity, and he
confided to Lord Latymer, towards the end of his
life, that he remains the worst pianist in the world.
A hard judgment, though indeed it must be admitted
that as an executant he was ill-equipped. His touch
was ponderous, his fingers anything but nimble,
and once his foot found the damper pedal, which

232

DUETS WITH SIR HUBERT PARRY

from the shortness of his legs it did not always
do at once, it rarely let it go.

These shortcomings, however, were as little com¬
pared with the enthusiasm that underlay them, an
enthusiasm which made him the prince of duettiSts.
He played duets all his life, sometimes in dis¬
tinguished company. “ I wish you and Parry
wouldn’t thump so,” said his mother to him on
one 'recorded occasion at Eton, using an expression
which has now a pleasant Vifforian flavour. Though
Hubert Parry was not one of O. B.’s pupils, his
taSte for music had attracted his notice and he was
among the boys bidden to those water-parties
which excited the ire of Dr. Hornby. Parry went
on one of them when they took train to Pang-
bourne, where they embarked, dined at Maidenhead
en route and sculled home afterwards to the singing
of songs. Oscar Browning, however, had little to
do with Parry’s musical or intelle&ual development,
and the only book, so far as we know, which he
ever lent him was The Bible in the Church.

As O. B. grew older and Stouter the difficulties
of those who were his partners a quatre mains
increased and only bold spirits attempted to extend
their empire higher than F or G in the bass clef
(O. B. always liked to play the treble part), for
encounters around the no-man’s land of middle C
were apt to be painful to the intruder. When a
Beethoven Overture or Symphony unfolded its
beauties on his expansive soul, he swayed from his
middle upwards like a Dervish inspired, singing in
the rapture of his spirit and repeatedly asking his
partner whether he did not think it awfully jolly.
At such times his hands descended with the fortis¬
simo of the full orchestra and with a fine disregard
for meticulous accuracy or for any unwary fingers
which might be dutifully trying to play the notes
on the score. “ For God’s sake, woman, play a

233

OSCAR BROWNING

wrong note,” Hans von Billow is reported to have
said to a painstaking, but dull, pupil. Such an
adjuration could never have been addressed to O. B.
As the years went by his ambitions and girth com¬
bined to make him satisfied with nothing less than
a whole piano to himself, so that his four-handed
excursions through the realms of the classics became,
on two keyboards. Still more sonorous than before.

For the performance of chamber music he pos¬
sessed a number of orcheBrine di camera, familiarly
known as “ obeophones,” which represented the
wood-wind, or even supplemented the Strings.
O. B. was very partial to taking the horn, or
oboe, part in a Divertimento, or some more formal
work, of Mozart’s on one of these instruments. If
the pedalling was uneven they were apt to produce
the moSt amazing grunts and squeaks, and many a
young composer of to-day who wished to shock
our ears with the boldness of his timbres would
have been enraptured at the effects which not
infrequently resulted. But O. B. was not of those
who suffer from an over-refinement of musical
culture. He did not sigh after the perfect per¬
formance. He knew that le mieux eft I’ennemi du
bien, and was content if the final cadence found
him not laSt amidst the throng. With very little
pressing also he would sing “ Non piu andrai,” or
“ La vendetta ” from his beloved Figaro, and since
there was nothing in the least high-brow about him
he would, if his audience called for it, interpret
comic songs of another kind, such as “The Baby
on the Shore,” which for years was one of the
moSt successful things in his repertoire. Never¬
theless, though he loved to assist in making music,
or even to entertain a room-full as a soloist, he
was not a Stranger to modesty. He did not venture
to sing after, or even before, his friend Jenny
Lind, and when Otto Goldschmidt and Arthur

234

THE BEST TYPE OF AMATEUR

Sullivan sat down together at the piano, his Stout
duettiSt’s heart resigned itself to listening with at
least apparent content.

But it is unfair to write thus, for he was in
reality the best type of amateur, the type who
loves music and wants others to share his enjoy¬
ment of the art. With the help of Edward Dann-
reuther, moSt scholarly of pianists, he gave his
Saturday evening concerts at Eton, which Dr.
Hornby frowned upon (Dannreuther refers to him
after Oscar Browning’s dismissal as “that idiot
of a parson—the head, or rather tail, of Eton ”), an
atmosphere of real musical distinction. Dann¬
reuther took much pains to arrange suitable pro¬
grammes and to secure rehearsals. Sometimes he
thought O. B.’s suggestions too bold. He was
nervous, for instance, on one occasion about the
possible impression a Bach Violin and Piano Sonata
might produce on the audience. But O. B. had
no fears, for he knew that the less musical boys
would anyhow find their way to his library, which
was always thrown open on these occasions, whilst
he at least would enjoy Bach, even though the
particular work was in the same key as the Beethoven
trio which had preceded it. He worried less than
Dannreuther about avoiding in the programmes
“ a monotony of key and colour.” Pezze, the
’cellist, A. D. Coleridge, the founder of the Bach
Choir, and Le Marchant Gosselin, an Eton boy
who, if he had not subsequently chosen to attain
distinction as a diplomat, might have done so as a
pianist, were amongst those who helped at these
musical evenings—evenings which were occasionally
honoured by the presence of one of the royal
princesses when the Court was at Windsor.

Music was one of the many things which Oscar
Browning wanted to reform at Eton. In his
opinion the appointment of Dr. Hayne as Succentor

2 35

OSCAR BROWNING

and Musical Director in x 8 68 did little to improve
things. As a boy he had readied against “the
organ-loft school ” which had dominated English
music since the death of Arne and brought it to a
level of almost unredeemed provinciality. The
Succentor and the Musical Director at Eton, O. B.
considered, should be different persons. The
organist could be an old-fashioned Mus. Doc.,
composing his anthems, his hymn tunes, his double
chants. The Musical Diredtor should be a live
musician, who for choice had Studied in Germany.
He had talked the matter over with George Grove,
and Grove had agreed with his views. So it
happened that when Dr. Hayne, after four not
very fruitful years, was about to leave. Grove
produced the ideal candidate, and sent him down
to Eton with an introduction to O. B. “ All I
want to do is to ensure him a favourable reception
from you,” Grove wrote. “ I feel quite sure that
he has more genius, more geniality, more tadt,
more power of teaching and attracting fellows, more
practical gifts than any other musician I have ever
met. I know that if any change in music is made
at Eton, your knowledge of music and weight in
the College will give you greater influence than
anyone else.” Luckily Sir George Grove was
unaware of the inner politics of Eton, since had
O. B. succeeded in securing the post for Arthur
Sullivan—for it was he who was Grove’s candi¬
date—the Savoy operas would probably never
have been born. In the event the place was given
to a nonentity, a certain Dr. Maclean. But the
incident marked the beginning of a friendship
between Sullivan and O. B., which was to secure
for him many free tickets for the Savoy operas,
the merits of which his knowledge of Mozart,
Rossini and Offenbach prevented him from ex¬
aggerating.

236

SIR ARTHUR SULLIVAN

Arthur Sullivan influenced him in his curious
dislike of the Royal Academy of Music and caused
him to give enthusiastic support to the Royal
College of Music from the moment when he was
present, as a representative of Cambridge, at the
meeting at Marlborough House in 1882, when the
proj eft for its establishment was formally launched.
It was there that he ran across Barnby and asked
him how he was getting on with music at Eton.
“ Oh,” said Barnby, who had been there since 1875,
“I am juSt beginning to learn what sort of a
place Eton is.” “And I,” replied O. B., “am
juSt beginning to forget.”

VII

In those days the musical world was split asunder
by the mighty genius of Wagner. Oscar Browning
was never a passionate Wagnerite—a true Mozartian
could hardly be that. But Dannreuther, who
fought the battle for Wagner in England, secured
his allegiance and his subscriptions for the Bay¬
reuth Theatre. O. B. paid and hoped he would
see or hear something for his money some day.
As years went by the prospeft grew more doubtful.
There were rumours sometimes in the German
papers that the Festival was really to be held, or that
Wagner was to visit London with an opera troupe
in order to raise money for his great scheme. But
Dannreuther, when asked, could only give denials.
There was nothing as yet, he wrote in 1874, to
announce about the Bayreuth Theatre, and as for
Wagner coming to London it was a ridiculous
canard. “ W. would as soon go to Timbuftoo.”

But the patience of the subscribers was at length
rewarded. “ Knowing that you have years ago
expended vast sums on the Wagner Theatre,”
wrote Le Marchant Gosselin to O. B. from Berlin

237

OSCAR BROWNING

in March 1875, “ and having been told that you
mean to explore Nova Zembla in the su mm er of
1876, I think it only fair to warn you that the
Festival is announced for the August of that year,
when you will be expected to appear at Bayreuth
and hear the four operas.” Though a Wagnerite,
Gosselin could not approve of Wagner’s methods.
cc No means are left untried, no Stone unturned, to
colle£t the necessary means. The wretched Sultan
has been made to buy ten tickets of Patronatscheine —
on the understanding that such an outlay would go
far to cement Turco-German alliance; whereupon
the Khedive immediately invested in fifteen to show
that he was juSt as good as his suzerain, if not
better. All of which I think indecent and artful .”
O. B. expressed no opinion on Wagner’s methods.
He went as a matter of course to the first perform¬
ance of the Ring in 1876. He tried to obtain
admission to the rehearsals, for it would thus have
been possible to become better acquainted with
the music. But Dannreuther had assured him on
a poSt-card that all rehearsals were Stri&ly private.

“ B-” (the name is illegible, but it looks like

Brahms) “ wrote to Bayreuth for admission and
was refused! ” However, the Committee had
assured Dannreuther that all his wishes about Oscar
Browning securing a good seat should be carried
out. And arrangements would also be made for
his young friend.

It was a historic occasion. O. B. realised its
significance and wrote to The Times to advise
“ English lovers of music not to negledt an oppor¬
tunity of hearing the perfeft execution of a work
of art such as will not occur again in the present
generation.” The only other English people pre¬
sent besides himself were professional musicians or
music critics. Nevertheless he found the King a
little long. This North German was heavy-handed.

238

RICHARD WAGNER READS “ PARSIFAL ”

He button-holed you, was either an exalte or a
bore. And during the longueurs which are not
absent even from Siegfried, O. B.’s mind, one may
imagine, more than once left the theatre amid§t
the pine trees on the hill, left Bayreuth and the
contemplation of human ills as they are presented
in Wagner’s trilogy, to hover over the pinnacles
and trees of Eton and to revolve again the injustice
whidi he had suffered the year before. To his
mother always he came nearest to revealing bis
inmost thoughts. And in his letter to her from
Bayreuth there is only a passing reference to the
King. He is revolving not the fate of Siegfried or
Wotan, but of Oscar Browning. He has been
talking to people about Eton, and is quite sure that
his dismissal was now considered by many, and
would come to be considered by more, not as a
disgrace but as an honour.

Nevertheless, though he came away from Bay¬
reuth without having been in any way hypnotised
by the new art and unshaken in his belief that the
appeal of music was to the intellect rather than
to the emotions, he remained a supporter, if not a
disciple. When Richard Wagner came to London
in the spring of 1877, O. B. was among the few
bidden to hear the latest message. “ Will you
come in on Thursday evening,” Mrs. Dannreuther
wrote, “ to meet the Meifier ? He promises to read
his new work, Parsival, to us at 8.30, so do not
come later please.” Whether the poem made any
impression on him, one does not know, but when
he saw the work at Bayreuth in 1883 it afFe&ed
him deeply. “ The second performance,” he wrote,
“ fascinated me more than the first, and the after¬
taste, the recollection of both words and music,
has been dwelling in my mind ever since.” In
later years, however, whilst Rossini, Pergolesi and
of course Mozart maintained their place in his

239

OSCAR BROWNING

heart, Wagner, except for Die Meiitersinger, had
altogether ceased to interest him.

VIII

Even music sometimes gave an opportunity to
sniff the delicious air of controversy. That he had
been unsuccessful in getting Arthur Sullivan to
Eton did not discourage him from organising" the
Cambridge vote amongst the Eton masters on behalf
of Dr. Macfarren’s candidature for the Professorship
of Music. It was preceded by an immense deal of
wire-pulling. To use a phrase of a contemporary
Statesman, O. B. and the party of reform wanted
to see music get a square deal, and they were
anxious that the new Professor should be a com¬
manding personality. Since the production of St.
John the Baptist musicians had come to believe that
Macfarren had a message, that he might indeed be
the new Purcell of our music. True, some good
judges were of opinion that the young Stanford,
then in the early twenties, was the long-awaited
genius. But he was Still too youthful to be elected
Professor. In any case Macfarren was a far more
suitable candidate than Garrett of St. John’s, the
elegance of whose services and double chants was
more than counterbalanced by his “ faults of
temper,” or than Dr. Henry Wylde. Dr. Wylde
may have been a musical nonentity, though he was
a prolific composer in his day, but he possessed a
great deal of social influence amongst non-resident
electors in Town, where his London Academy, as
it was pointed out, “ had been for years the fashion¬
able resort of young, aristocratic ladies to learn
piano playing under Benedict.” Nowadays few
young ladies have time to spare for such dull and
profitless pursuits as learning the piano. Then
they not only learnt, but canvassed furiously for

240

MUSICAL POLITICS AT CAMBRIDGE

Dr. Wylde, who showed that he was a “vulgar
fellow ”—as Dr. Macfarren’s supporters thought—
by offering to pay the expenses of all who went
down to Cambridge to vote for him. G. F. Cobb,
of Trinity, who led the Macfarren party, pointed
out to O. B. that the risk was “ appalling ” and
that they must “ poll all their Strength to their
uttermost inconvenience.”

O: B. shared in the pleasure which the election
of Macfarren gave to those who considered that
they had made the cause of music their own. He
did the same at the election of C. V. Stanford to
the same position twelve years later. Stanford,
however, proved not unlike what many had thought
Garrett to be, and he and O. B. managed to quarrel
very easily. He did that composer the compliment
of considering him among his most particular
enemies, attributing to Stanford’s influence a curious
incident when a King’s don of learning and blame¬
less life, whom O.B. had proposed for the Athenaeum,
was blackballed. On the top of this affront O. B.
received an anonymous telegram informing him
that the same measure would be dealt out to any
other candidate whom he might propose. A
vigorous canvass secured the ele&ion of his next
candidate. The correspondence which this affair
produced O. B. had handsomely bound and he used
to keep it on his drawing-room table. The volume
now reposes in the Brassey Memorial Library at
Hastings, where it remains as a memento of ani¬
mosities that once disturbed the London home of
Pallas Athene.

This, however, is by the way. Oscar Browning
was not the only don taking an interest in music
with whom Stanford quarrelled, nor did such per¬
sonal disagreements prevent him from upholding
the claims of the art, which has gained the reputa¬
tion of exciting the spirit of cantankerousness in
r 241

OSCAR BROWNING

its devotees, to a recognised place in a liberal educa¬
tion. Apart from the music which he made at
other times, including even the sacred hours of the
morning when undergraduates’ pianos perforce are
dumb, his Mozart Club met in his rooms regularly
for years. And every Saturday night he attended
the concert of the University Musical Club, where
the arm-chair by the fire was reserved for him.
Comfortably disposed in one of the few warm
spots in that cold and repellently ugly room, he
used to read his Weftminfter Gazette, then an organ
flourishing in its liberalism and viridity, to the
Strains of Mozart and Beethoven, sometimes looking
over his spedtacles and the top of his paper to
remark at the beginning of a Quartet or a Piano¬
forte Trio, “ Too faSt, too faSt,” and rarely omitting
to add his own coda of “ How awfully jolly,” or
“ Very good indeed,” at the end. There was
nothing finnicking or hyper-sensitive or over-
refined in O. B.’s attitude towards the nobleSt of
the arts.

242

CHAPTER XIV

HUMANITAS

I

On a drizzling winter evening O. B. was once
walking with an undergraduate through one of the
narrow and draughty passages which abound in
Cambridge when the sight of a piece of childhood
crying on a doorstep Stopped his rolling gait and he
Stood “ hove-to ” like a Steamer in a choppy sea.
“ What is your name, my boy ? ” he asked, swaying
uneasily, and it was long before he could get any
intelligible answer. “ Poor boy, he’s hungry,” said
O. B. at length. “Let’s get him something to
eat.” With some difficulty the boy was haled off
to a cook-shop, where O. B. purchased various
comestibles and had them wrapped up in news¬
paper. By this time he had extracted his entire
family history, even down to the names of his
brothers and sisters, and was lamenting that there
was not more propaganda for the Navy. “ Wouldn’t
you like to be a jolly sailor-boy, Fred ? ” he asked
the urchin whilst engaged in buying him a pair of
boots—for his own were disgraceful—a question
answered by a non-committal and sheepish smile.
“ You know,” he remarked to the undergraduate
as they resumed their course (with O. B. some ten
shillings the poorer), “ when I walk about Cam¬
bridge, I look upon myself as a sort of knight-
errant, and I nearly always find some dragon to
spear—or some windmill to tilt at,” he added with
a laugh.

243

OSCAR BROWNING

II

One of the many soft spots in his heart he kept
for sailors, and for many years he took an active
interest in the Cambridge Branch of the Navy
League. He was never happier than when he had
secured a Cambridge boy for the Royal Navy.
Mr. A. B. Hyde, now gymnastic instructor at
Dulwich College, relates how in his early ’teens he
was fired with the ambition of going to sea, and one
day went to ask Oscar Browning to help him.
O. B. was enchanted and arranged for him to join
the Impregnable at Plymouth. Mr. Hyde’s reminis¬
cences of O. B. in a nautical environment are beSt
related in his own words: “ During my naval
training in the Impregnable I was one day being
instructed by a petty officer in the art of making
knots and splices. My chums and I were in a
circle around the inStru&or, apparently much
interested, when to my surprise on turning round,
whom should I see but my dear old friend O. B.,
who had brought my brother from Cambridge as a
surprise to myself and the other bluejackets from
my native town, who had always had a hearty
welcome at his rooms when on leave, with plenty
of good cheer and singing of nautical songs by
them and many a rollicking song by our host.
Sometimes he played on a grand piano, at others on
a harmonium. How he used to let rip on ‘ On the-
Road to Mandalay.’ I can see his dear, kind, jolly
old face now in my mind’s eye.

“ During the evening the quarter-deck was
decorated with flags and an entertainment was given
by the ship’s company. O. B. and Commander
Somerset admired the sailors’ hornpipes and sand
dances, etc., and at the end of the show I made my
way to O. B., when the Commander shouted to me
with a voice like a fog-horn: ‘ Boy, tell that

244

A SAILOR BOY’S REMINISCENCES

gentleman he’s to have my Steam launch to go ashore
in.’ When we got ashore, what luxury at the Duke
of Cornwall Hotel! What a contrast for your
humble boots to be cleaned and for a maid to bring
a cup of tea. Surely this was a dream. The next
day a trip to H.M.S. Lion in a shore boat which
was kept waiting so long that the man demanded
£}. However, O. B. didn’t mind so long as he
saw the other Cantabs on board, and incidentally
dined with the Commander, who also had all hands
on deck for a march paSt and after that a gymnastic
display.

“ A few weeks after this we had summer leave
and we were all invited to O. B.’s rooms at St.
James’s Street. He took us to see a play called
Flying Colours, and left orders with his landlady to
provide a feed for us on our return. She made
a large roly-poly jam pudding. We called this a
Steerage hammock, and O. B. simply writhed with
laughter. After the feed O. B. saw us all off at
Liverpool Street Station en route for Cambridge.
This was quite a hobby of O. B.’s when in London.
He would tackle a group of lads, give them a ‘ blow¬
out,’ as he called it, and then vanish like a fairy
godfather.

“ When at Plymouth a reverend gentleman, an
old King’s man, wrote to me to come to tea every
Sunday I was ashore, and sent me on board with a
bundle of food, such as cakes and oranges. Also
on Thursdays another King’s man in rather a small
way (his people kept a sweet-shop) wrote to me to
say that O. B. had arranged for me to have tea at his
place and a half-crown to be given me for pocket-
money. By the way, the King’s man at the shop
told me that O. B. had paid a lot for his education,
as his people were hard up.”

Oscar Browning corresponded with Mr. Hyde,
and later with Mr. Hyde’s children, and followed

*45

OSCAR BROWNING

his fortunes and those of his family with unabated
interest, till the very end of his life.

“ As I sit, before me ftand.

Exile in a foreign land.

Faces which recall to me
Days of mirth and jollity. . .

Thus begin some verses he sent him, inspired by a
photograph of Mr. Hyde with his wife and children,
of Mr. Hyde,

“ Who for forty years on end
Has been, and is, my deareS friend.”

But it was not all O. B.’s proteges who had the
Sterling qualities of Mr. A. B. Hyde.

Ill

“ People used to say that O. B. took up with
young men either because it flattered his vanity to
deted unsuspected genius—the same sort of
pleasure as some people get in backing an outsider—
or because their youth and good looks attracted
him. But you can’t explain him on such simple
egotistical grounds.” It was a friend and one-time
colleague who was speaking. “I remember, for
instance, going to see him in his rooms one evening
when he had juSt returned from Paris, and there on
the sofa in his dining-room reposed a shabbily
dressed and apparently exhausted youth. He was
a mere skeleton, his cheeks were cavernous and
sallow, his teeth were black, and he did not appear
to have the full use of his limbs. Altogether he
was a terrible-looking objed. I went in and talked
to O. B., who was in his inner room. As I was
leaving I asked him who his visitor was. ‘ Oh,’ he
said, ‘that’s Arthur’ (or some other Christian

246

RESCUE OF A STABLE BOY

name). e He’s been a Stable boy at Chantilly and
was shamefully misused. They Starved him to get
his weight down and then beat him because he lost
his Strength. Finally, they threw him out. I
found him destitute in Paris, and the only thing I
could do was to bring him back with me. He’s a
dear boy really and most high-minded.’ That was
a quality, by the way, which O. B. usually discovered
in the youths he took up with. And then he asked
• me if I knew anyone who could give the boy a job.
That sort of incident can’t be squared with any of
the explanations many people give of O. B.’s
motives in things of this kind. There was nothing
about it that could possibly bring him any kudos,
and what inspired him, I think, was a sort of
Franciscan feeling for humanity at large. It
embraced all classes, from emperors to clowns, and
he talked juSt as freely about his friendships with
the one as with the other. Only people remembered
the royalties and forgot the re§t.”

His charges multiplied, as was to be expeded.
“ This evening I received the visits of several boys
who are proteges of mine,” he writes to his mother
during a busy Lent term, “ a young blacksmith,
a young printer and a young instrument maker.
The last plays the flute very well for his age.”
After the death of Henry Bradshaw, which gave
him a great shock—not lessened by the fad that as
O. B. was on his way to morning Chapel the gyp
met him and told him that he had juSt found Mr.
Bradshaw dead at his table, and O. B. had therefore
gone back with the College servant to discover
that it was as the gyp had said—O. B. never liked
being alone in his rooms at night, when if he were
seized by sudden illness it might be impossible to
summon help. From that time on he always had a
personal servant who slept in his rooms. And
like the Austrian nobles of the eighteenth century,

2 47

OSCAR BROWNING

he valued their services the more if they could play
a musical instrument.

“ I recall,” says another Fellow of King’s, “ how
years ago when I was an undergraduate I had to see
O. B. one afternoon at about tea-time. He had
been playing some game, tennis probably, for he
liked its historical associations, and I found him
juSt emerged from his bath, wrapped in an enormous
towel and looking more like a Roman emperor
than ever. There were two youths in the room—■
one was giving him tea, which he was drinking out
of the saucer, a universal fashion in Russia, he assured
me, the other was playing the violin. O. B.
received me without the least embarrassment, and
continued his conversation whilst the one youth
dried him and the other played—extremely badly,
it appeared to me. He told me that afternoon that
he had once had his horoscope cast, and that he had
been born when Saturn was in Capricorn. Capri¬
corn was a propitious influence, but Saturn was, of
course, a depressing one. The result was that
when he had a bad time he knew Saturn was ‘ having
a go at him, and when fortune smiled he said:
£ Good old Capricorn.’ There was something
humorous but charming in seeing a man of a certain
age and more than a certain Stoutness sitting in his
arm-chair, wrapped in a towel, and discoursing
with apparently complete gravity to me on the
influence of the Stars in their courses on his private
affairs, whilst one servant drew harsh Strains from
the fiddle and the other pummelled his back with
the towel.”

Nothing delighted O. B. more than to discover
musical talent in anyone around him, and in at
leaSt one case he defrayed the expenses of education
at the Royal College of Music for a young man who
had been his personal servant. For such the
claims of music occasionally conflicted with more

248

PROTfiGES AND SECRETARIES

prosaic duties, and his anger overflowed on one
occasion when he returned to his chambers in St.
James’s Street and found that his valet, instead of
preparing tea for two as he had been bidden, was so
busy composing that the debris of lunch remained
Still on the table. But the Storm was soon over,
and whilst the crestfallen young genius was out of
the room, he took up the manuscript from the side
table and offered it to the critical approval of his
visitor, observing that Harry was really a very
remarkable boy.

, Secretarial duties were another means of assisting
talent to overcome the disabilities of poverty. “ I
feel sure,” he says, “ that I was made to have a
number of clerks under me. I can imagine myself
in a room diftating to five at once. My regular
secretary (Willie Thomas) comes from 8.30 to ten
and does all kinds of things for me. Another youth
whom I have engaged to help me in arranging the
Auckland papers arrives at ten and works till two,
and again from five to seven. I pay him ten
shillings a week, but of course he is only retained
for a special service. Besides this, I have discovered
a clever young shorthand writer whom I have
engaged to come from 7.30 till 9.30 every evening
for three shillings a week. I can never write myself
after dinner, but I think that I might be able to
dictate.” At another time he is teaching German
to a young man in the University Library, or again
he is learning Russian from a youthful barber, and
is astonished when the Slav, whom he provides
with tea, also requires a money payment.

IV

He was naturally the prey of rogues, and generally
an easy prey, for he used to say that he derived a
certain spiritual satisfa&ion from the knowledge

249

OSCAR BROWNING

that he was being taken in. But he bore no ill-will
to those whom Providence chose to be the agents
in this matter, though sometimes there was an
underlying malice in the way he granted their
petitions. Thus to the young man who went to
h im and complained that he was Stranded and
begged for the loan of a pound to pay his ticket to
Liverpool, where he asserted that he lived, O. B.
was more than sympathetic. He listened to his
Story, then took him to the Station, bought his
ticket and did not leave him till the train for Liver¬
pool Steamed out of the Station. “ Yet,” said
O. B. in recounting this incident afterwards,
“ such are the unaccountable workings of the
human mind that the expression on his face
showed rather disguSt than gratitude.” Of this
class, the only one whom he considered to have
really abused his good-nature was the under¬
graduate of his own College, to whom, as the
result of a tale of woe, he lent £5, which the worth¬
less young man proceeded to spend that same
night at the Empire.

V

His humanity was not confined to the youthful
male. When there was any possibility of injustice
being done he sacrificed his own time and con¬
venience without a thought. Thus he writes to his
mother in June 1885 : “Last Monday morning
my barber told me that some Italians who had been
going about singing had got into a terrible mess
through using knives. I had felt much interested
in them when I saw them about the place, and I
hurried off to the police court, knowing that there
would be no one to interpret and that they would
require assistance. It is lucky that I went. One
man was completely innocent, and two of the

250

DUTIES TOWARDS COLLEGE TENANTS

unfortunate prisoners had been knocked about and
half killed while in the custody of the police, when
they were handcuffed and not able to defend them¬
selves. There were four poor women in terrible
distress with no one to look after them. The
prisoners were remanded for a week, and when
they were being driven away the mob surrounded
the fly and nearly lynched them. We got the
women out by a back door. One undergraduate
got inside and another on the box whilst I protected
them from the mob. There is a very wealthy
Russian family living at Audley End. We asked
them to take them in and give them a room over
their Stables. They have been very comfortable
there. The case comes up again on Monday.
I shall do all I can to get the innocent man off and
the other two punished as leniently as possible,
for there was great provocation. This had occupied
me a good deal.”

VI

If Oscar Browning considered himself a knight-
errant in Cambridge, in the village of Barton, which
lies some two or three miles outside the town,
he looked upon himself in the light of the squire.
For King’s has, or had, estates there, and O. B.,
although he had never had any connection with
the bursarial duties of the College, held decided
views about the duties of the Fellows towards those
resident upon the College properties. He used to
tricycle there frequently, and got to know most
of the villagers. Some twenty odd years ago,
when an effort was made to organise such social
work on the College estates, he put his views on
record. “ The first objeCfc is to cultivate friendly
relations of a private nature between the inhabitants
of the village and the College, so that the villagers

251

OSCAR BROWNING

may feel that the College knows about them and
cares for them and that the College may feel the
same. Considering the circumstances of a college,
it is beSt to begin with the young men and boys,
those who have left school and gone to work,
which I am sorry to say they do at the early age of
twelve. A complete list should be drawn up of all
these, and care should be taken that they should
all be known in a quiet, unobtrusive way by various
members of the College. It would then be found
out who are the best of them and what they are fit
for. Acquaintance with the young men would
lead to acquaintance with the families, which should
be utilised but not pushed to the degree of inter¬
ference, as of almsgiving. Members of the College
cycling through the village would naturally speak
to those whom they knew, or go and see them at
work. The lads could be invited to tea and made
friends of. This would be the first Step.

“ We might then proceed in the summer to invite
people from the village to visit Cambridge and give
them lunch or tea in Hall. Many of them are, I
daresay, imperfectly acquainted with the University.
Also, as in Germany and Switzerland, the school¬
master might bring the children over to see the place.
I ought to have said that things should be done,
if possible, through the schoolmaster with the
approval of the clergyman. He should be made a
friend of and encouraged to come in and see us and
made generally interested in the University.” He
then goes on to outline in detail what should be
done on the physical side, and also on the intellectual.
Cricket, football and swimming clubs, village
reading rooms, village orchestras, leCtures, the
encouragement of home industries, as he had seen
done already in one or two Cambridgeshire villages
—these would help to counteract the monotony
of village life as it existed in rural England. And

252

VILLAGE MORALS

finally, for one muSt always remember the possi¬
bility, “ if a genius were to rise up in any of our
villages (some mute, inglorious Milton), we might
give him a chance.”

To allow everyone a chance for self-expression,
that was the basis of his radical creed. A Study of
village graffiti showed that under the bucolic
surface of country life there ran a vein of frankness
and indeed of coarseness which had an Elizabethan
flavour. In one of the moSt racy and obscene of
these writings he found such a power over words
that he translated them into Greek iambics, and
when in the vein he would declaim both original
and translation. They went to show also that in
social environment very different from any to which
he had been accustomed there were the same
problems of ethics to make the social reformer
pause and think. To O. B. morality was based on
love. Assuredly he would not have subscribed
to the motto of the Abbe Barthelemy, “ Aimez et
faites ce que vous plaira,” though this is only a
paradoxical paraphrase of the Gentile ApoStle’s
classification of the Christian virtues. But time
brought in its train for O. B. an un-Pauline tolerance
of human weaknesses, and if the middle-aged don
of sixty was not less interested in those questions
of morals which had Stirred the zeal of the young
schoolmaster, he came to regard such problems
with greater detachment, and more perhaps in the
spirit of the inquirer and less in that of the
reformer.

VII

One could do good in many ways, but the
greatest and best was by Striving to enthrone wisdom
as arbiter in human affairs. Oscar Browning the
philosopher wished only to create the atmosphere

253

OSCAR BROWNING

in which the “ Statesman-mind ” could develop,
and was indifferent which party his pupils, or the
young men who came under his influence, embraced.
The most distinguished of them, Mr. Gerald
Balfour, Sir AuSten Chamberlain (who though at
Trinity had been a member of his Political Society),
Lord Curzon, Alfred Lyttelton, became members of
the Conservative Party.

But Oscar Browning the citizen was a lifeldng
Liberal. More indeed, for he belonged to that
left wing of the Party which, led by John Morley,
went to the root of things and gloried in the name
of Radical. Everything combined to make him
a mid-Vi£torian extremist. The teaching of John
Stuart Mill, his friendship with those advanced
thinkers of the time, George Eliot and Frederic
Harrison, his belief in human nature, his sympathy
with the under-dog, his antipathy to those in
authority at Eton and King’s—doubtless all these
things were factors in determining his views. The
Radical too, though he might suffer socially for his
creed, derived the comfort of spiritual pride from
the reflection that he was guided by Principle where
others were led by Prejudice. To a young and
unknown correspondent, who was about to embrace
a political career and was doubtful whether he had
been bom a little Liberal or a little Conservative,
O. B. was able to explain the true beauty of Radical¬
ism. “ I have been a Radical all my life and I have
. found that Radicals are almost uniformly guided by
principle, much more so than Tories, partly because,
having to attack in many cases existing institutions,
they have to consider what in these institutions
is vital and eventual and what is merely transitory
and unimportant, whereas Tories uphold old
institutions simply because they are old and very
often surrender the most important substance in
order to grasp the shadow. Of course a Radical

254

THE DEMOS NO MONSTER

is a democrat. He does not therefore consider the
Demos as a monster at all, but as having a complete
right to manage its own affairs. A democratic
Statesman will try to ascertain popular sentiment
quite as much as to guide it—certainly in most
cases he will be led by it. We are not afraid of the
Demos; if we were we should not be Radicals but
Tories.” But the young man should not decide
hastily. He should read Sydney Buxton’s Political
Questions of the Day ; O. B.’s own Modern England
might be useful. It was more difficult to arrive at
a decision by the Study of recent legislation. “ If
you will sound your own heart and feelings,” he
added, “ and ascertain on which side your Strongest
sympathies lie and on which you are prepared to
throw your influence, you will, I think, arrive at a
better conclusion than in any other way.” Could
anything be further from the spirit of the doctrinaire ?

His first encounter with the Demos which he
trusted was not particularly encouraging. When
he appeared at the hustings in favour of Roger
Eykyn, who Stood as Liberal candidate for the
Borough of Windsor in the election of 1868, his
speech was accompanied by howls from the Tory
candidate’s supporters of “ Pay your butcher’s
bills,” presumably a plausible cry to use against an
Eton master. It was followed by interviews with
both ProvoSt and Head Master, who professed
astonishment that an Eton master should take an
active part in an election. To the one O. B.
pointed out that his own Lodge was plastered with
Conservative posters (“ Put up by my daughters in
play,” said the ProvoSt irritably) and that he con¬
sidered it his duty to counteraft such propaganda
as far as lay in his power, whilst to the Head Master
he observed that his friend. Dr. Ridding of Win¬
chester, had not only marched through that city in a
procession of Liberals, but that the procession had

255

OSCAR BROWNING

been headed by a brass band. Roger Eykyn got
in and a friendship sprang up between them which
led to Oscar Browning making the acquaintance
of many Liberal politicians and to the sharpening
of his own political ambitions.

When he left Eton nothing except the want of
means Stood in the way of these being realised, and
soon after his return to Cambridge we find him
discussing the idea of his Standing for Parliament
with Henry Fawcett, the leading Liberal don in the
University, whose triumph over blindness forms
one of the romances of the Victorian era. On the
conditions which he then laid down—that he should
not have to pay his election expenses—he contested
Norwood in 1887, EaSt Worcestershire in 1892, and
one of the Liverpool divisions in 1895. All were
forlorn hopes and in no case did he come near
success. But his campaign at Birmingham, in its
avoidance of personalities and its concentration
upon principles, made some impression upon that
city, then under the domination of Joseph Chamber-
lain, in spite of the fa£t that O. B. was neither
a teetotaler nor a Sunday school teacher, both
essential qualifications for a Birmingham Liberal.
“ It may be juSt of passing interest to know,” writes
a correspondent, “ that some thirty-five years ago,
as a young many in Birmingham, I was deeply
impressed by Mr. Oscar Browning, who came there
as Parliamentary candidate, opposing Mr. AuSten
Chamberlain at a time when party feelings were very
Strong. It was an extraordinary candidature, for
Mr. Chamberlain had only recently been a pupil
of Mr. Browning’s at Cambridge, and his public
references to his erstwhile scholar were peculiarly
felicitous and kindly. His meetings were most
truly educational, and I remember how I used to
think that instead of taking part in a heated eleftion
campaign, I was privileged to listen to a series of

256

A BAD PARTY MAN

instructive lectures from an eminent scholar and
gentleman. I never saw him again, but in those
few days he influenced me in a way that few public
men have done.”

In a less Conservative country a seat might have
been found for him in the Upper House, where as a
Senator he could have placed his gifts as a political
philosopher at the service of the people. He was
too independent ever to have made a good Party
man. His views were full of antinomies. He
believed in the House of Lords as a “ fine democratic
instrument.” “ A Home Ruler before Gladstone,”
he disapproved in the ’eighties of his leader’s South
African policy and made jingo speeches; he was
a Pro-Boer in 1900 and kept Kruger’s photograph
on his mantelpiece, yet five years later he could feel
no enthusiasm for Free Trade nor indignation at
“ Chinese slavery.” A Liberal who believed that
the TsariSt Government was at least better than any
probable substitute—the attitude of the Liberal
papers on this sub) eft “ made him sick ”—an
imperialist who believed in Cromer’s work in Egypt
and Curzon’s in India, Oscar Browning held
opinions which were not those of a sound party
politician. So to prevent further trouble. Liberal
Head-quarters employed him to lead forlorn hopes.
The moSt notable of these would have been his
Standing against Joseph Chamberlain in 1895, but
for once O. B.’s courage, or his energy, failed him,
and he refused, which was the more remarkable
because he had transferred to Joseph Chamberlain
those deep-seated animosities which he had once
felt for Dizzy. Afterwards he regretted having
missed so glorious and hopeless a battle, and
explained it by his having added on reflection
instead of impulse.

And naturally enough the undergraduates laughed,
and their laughter pleased both themselves and
s 257

OSCAR BROWNING

O. B. “ ‘ What I think about it is this. We must
consider the poor, the way they are housed; the
luxury of the upper classes and well-to-do is dis¬
gusting—disgusting, I repeat.’ (And here he orders
one of his Arab boys to bring a little Cyprus wine,
which he drinks himself but does not offer one a
glass. He addresses the boy in Arabic, for it is one
of the languages which he speaks fluently.) ‘ I am
a Radical almost—simplicity of existence is .all I
plead for.’ ” Thus the Osc=r Br-wn-ng of myth
spoke to an anonymous Robert Ross, then the
representative of the Gadfly, one of the many
Cambridge mirrors of “ morals, men and matters ”
which time has smashed.

Above all things, though a Radical, he was proud
of his country. He was no pessimist, not even in
the difficult time after the war. The wealthy
classes perhaps lived too much for pleasure, but
what else could one expeft with the tone set by
Eton to its youth ? His robust faith is shown in
the message which he penned in the first year of
the present reign: “ An Englishman has good
reason to be proud of his country, and of the
Empire which it rules, in the Coronation year.
No other portion of the world is so happy, none
is so free, none so prosperous. There is indeed
a danger that we may rest upon our laurels and
forget the exertions which won them. There are
signs of an exaggerated devotion to sport, of a
tendency to enjoy what we have gained instead
of extending our conquests. But if this is to be
found in the wealthy and governing classes, the
heart of the democracy is sound and the energy of
the people unabated. Above all we have a King
who sets us the best example and a Queen who
supports him in every good work. He not only
bids England to wake up, but he exhibits for our
inStru&ion an adive life and a self-sacrificing devo-

258

HOMAGE TO KING GEORGE

tion to duty. His reign will probably be long, and
there is no fear that during it and during that of his
son, whom he brings up after his own model, the
highest Standard of the Strenuous life which he sets
before his subjects will be in any way lowered of
impaired.” O. B., as I have already remarked,
had a Johnsonian respect for the Throne.

CHAPTER XV

LAST YEARS AT CAMBRIDGE

I

The century drew to its end and O. B.’s liaison
with fame Stood on its old unsatisfactory footing.
He had given no work to the world to regularise
the union. The book, the great book, had never
been written, and his claims as a historian conse¬
quently lacked an academic foundation. Yet his
pen had not been idle. Besides the “ money-
grubbing ” primers, which had annoyed his mother,
he had edited despatches and political memoranda,
published histories of mediaeval Italy, produced a
Eife of George Eliot. He had written too an intro¬
duction to a book on his own subjeCt of political
science by a certain American Professor of the
name of Woodrow Wilson. And he felt himself
every year “ getting more and more of a man of
letters.” If only he had the time, if only his health
permitted him to spend the vacations in Cambridge
instead of driving him to Italy, to Switzerland,
or to the Riviera, he would have been in a better
position to produce something which would make
his name live. In the meantime enemies could
scoff at a reputation which seemed to repose on
its own idiosyncrasies, and even friends at the
mention of his name could smile and say “ Dear
O. B.” One may suspeCt that Oscar Browning
never found his true medium in the broad fields
of authorship. The metier of professional historian
was unsuited to his temperament. He had little

z6o

J. A. SYMONDS’S WISH

inclination for what is called original research,
and his historical books embodied none of that
sort of knowledge which comes from Studying
and collating the documents which are the dry
bones of history. Thus when he applied for the
degree of Litt.D. it was refused him on these
grounds. At the same time his plain and auStere
Style—his High Roman Style, as Matthew Arnold
once called it—lacked the warmth, the glow of
sentiment which attracts the wider public and wins
the respeft of publishers. It had, at its beSt, the
virtues of jusfesse, facilite and clarte , which Mme. du
Deffand postulated as three of the essential qualities
of good prose. But it lacked the warmth, the
chaleur, that is created by the inspiration of a con¬
genial theme. Even when writing about himself
he did not allow his pen the time, or his personality
the freedom, for true self-expression. Those who
have read his Memories of Sixty Years —which O. B.
used to describe as a Standard work on education—
and knew the original, are aware how inadequate
a portrait it contains. There were friends who
urged him to explore the wider questions of ethics
and morals in which he took so keen an interest.
John Addington Symonds wished that he would
turn his attention to that particular branch of ethics
which he himself had investigated. A year or two
before his death Symonds wrote explaining that he
had written two treatises, which he had “ diffused
very sparely and cautiously,” and that it was of some
importance to him to know into how many persons’
hands they had fallen. “ I am sure,” he remarked,
“ you could add a great amount of information and
critical matter. I wish you would write this sort of
Stuff.” One very important point, for instance,
on which O. B.’s opinion would be valuable was
whether the Study of the classics by boys in the
impressionable years of their adolescence was

261

OSCAR BROWNING

harmful. The views of the ancient world on the
question of homosexuality were so different from
those held in the England of the Viftorian era. Yet
to regard the phenomenon as pathological was beset
with difficulties. Assuredly much more light, as
Symonds observed, was required on all these
matters. But O. B. did not yield to Symonds’s
persuasiveness, and though he was always ready to
discuss such questions with a Strange mixture of
pagan enthusiasm and moral fervour, he refrained
from writing about them.

Had he possessed more detachment, had he
been more of an artist and less of a moralist and
teacher, one likes to imagine that he might in his
own way have produced another such epic of
intelle&ual youth as Walter Pater, who during the
years that Marius the 'Epicurean was conceived and
written was on terms of considerable intimacy with
O. B. In the “ pure and disinterested friendship
of schoolmates,” which is the central event of
Marius’s adolescence, one can deteft more than
traces of O. B.’s philosophy, and maybe of his
influence. It was, however, not decreed that
O. B. should trace the flowering of the human soul,
that his imagination should create a world where all
the problems that beset his craft as master of novices
were resolved in the ideal regions of art. There
were so many living Mariuses, so many young men
faced with difficulties no different from his, and what
weaving of words could compare with the delight
of working on the living clay ?

II

Since he was driven neither by a passionate love
for literature nor by the desire to explore the past
in the spirit which historians had borrowed from the
scientists, his reputation was supported by no

262

MISSED OPPORTUNITIES

corresponding position of dignity in the University.
On the death of Seeley, Lord Rosebery gave the
Regius Professorship to Lord Afton, and O. B.’s
congratulations to the Premier on his “ courageous
appointment ” were as generously acknowledged.
It was Still more evident that the faft of being one
who had done much to develop the History School
in Cambridge was no claim to the Professorship
when Mr. Arthur Balfour in 1905 had to go to
T rini ty College, Dublin, to find a successor to Lord
Acton. O. B. had hoped it would be otherwise.
He had asked Campbell-Bannerman whether he
would be wise to bring his claims to the Premier’s
notice, and Campbell-Bannerman had replied that,
if he were Prime Minister, such a proceeding would
be fatal to the person adopting it. O. B. welcomed
Professor Bury none the less cordially, and was a
regular attendant at his professorial leftures on the
intricate subj eft of Balkan politics ten centuries
go.

Sometimes rumour, silent in Cambridge, was
busy elsewhere. In 1902 he took the Lent Term off
and went on a visit to Lord Curzon in India, then
in the most brilliant period of his Viceroyalty.
He had not been there a month when there was a
report, which even reached the London papers,
that the post of Minister of Education to the
Government of India was to be made for him. It
was flattering and opened up romantic possibilities.
To exchange Cambridge for India, to set his hand
to one of the greatest problems which the present
age has to face, the education of the EaSt by the
methods of the WeSt, all this would not have been
too heavy a task for his sixty-five years.- Of course
there was nothing in the rumour. He knew that.
Nevertheless Lord Curzon thought it worth while
to write specially about it. “ My dear O. B.,” he
said, “ I don’t know who Started that hare about

263

OSCAR BROWNING

your being Education Minister. Of course, as you
know, we are not going to have such a man.”

Ill

Thus, as he moved towards old age, no prizes
came to cheer his lot and he remained a Fellow of
King’s, dependent on the good-will of the other
Fellows for continuing to hold office in the College.
With seeing the prizes fall to others O. B. could put
up; he could not endure quietly the obstinacy
that refused to realise the importance and excellence
of the History School of King’s in which he was the
head. The College pampered the classical scholars,
it ignored the historians. King’s was well known
outside its own walls as par excellence the Historical
College of the University. Yet after a year of
“ exceptional brilliancy ” there was not a single
Historical Student in King’s who was a foundation
scholar. The thing was a scandal, and he said so
in a circular letter to the other Fellows. “ I am not
in favour,” this concluded, “ of extravagant rewards
for academical successes. I am of opinion that the
classical Students of the College suffer from the
Danae shower of gold which too often corrupts
their virtue. But this disregard of the claims of
Historical Students transcends all decency and is
tainted with gross injustice.”

This was in 1904. In 1905 the ProvoSt, AuSten-
Leigh, died, and the fa£t that Oscar Browning,
notwithstanding his seniority, was never even
considered as papabile at the election of his suc¬
cessor, showed plainly enough that he had no party
amongst the Fellows. And he did not command
very much good-will. For one of the first duties
that fell to the new ProvoSt, Dr. M. R. James, who
tried to make things as easy as he could for O. B.,
was to tell him that the Council had only reappointed

VIEWS ON HIS RETIREMENT

him to his poSt of History Tutor for three years—
the usual term being seven—and that at the end of
that period, since he would then be over seventy,
an age at which the Council considered it was time
to give way to younger men, he would probably
be superannuated. O. B. was deeply shocked at
this news, which he regarded as an intrigue of his
enemies to get rid of him. He had never been
Stronger, never felt more vigorous. The King’s
History School was known all over the Kingdom.
At that moment boys in all the great schools were
looking forward to entering it, were working with
that end in view. The College ought to be proud
of it, instead of taking a Step that would weaken its
efficiency, or even endanger its existence. If he
ceased to be head, who would succeed him ? He
looked round and could see no one. All his old
pupils, thanks to his training, were absorbed in
their own pursuits. Obviously the real interests
of the College lay in keeping him head of the school
as long as possible. These and other points he
exposed in a letter to the ProvoSt. ** The proper
course, in his opinion, for the College to take,”
he wrote, “ is to reappoint me for the full term of
seven years, giving me to understand at the same
time that I am getting on in years and that if my
power of doing work properly fails I ought to
resign.”

Over the controversies of those years one need
not linger. O. B. thought that the Council of the
College, from the moment that it had put a term to
his tenure of office, was doing everything in its
power to weaken his authority. He fought every
point, was as always indefatigable in exposing the
errors that he saw around him, errors which, he
believed, had sprung from the jealousy that follows
upon success. The classical and mathematical dons
were jealous of history. Trinity and the other

26j

OSCAR BROWNING

Colleges were jealous of King’s. That was why
Trinity had refused to continue the Inter-Collegiate
May Examination, in which a King’s man had been
top in 1904. True, O. B. had given him xoo per
cent, for his Essay, but its merits deserved no less.
He had read it to a Leeds Professor, who had said
that Robert Louis Stevenson might have written
it—if be had been given six weeks to do it in. And
this brilliant young King’s-man had done it in three
hours !

“ All I can see clearly,” he writes to a colleague
on another occasion round about this time, “ is that
the Council has sacrificed the vital interests of the
College because I am supposed to be rather a difficult
person to argue with. Where did you ever find
a man with Strong convictions and character who
was not difficult to argue with, and what is to
become of an institution which is administered by
weaklings ? I find you a difficult person to argue
with, because you so often come to talk over
matters at an inconvenient time, and when I begin
to State my case you look at your watch and run
away. How could I have built up the History
School here, held countless communications with
undergraduates, founded the Day Training College
and carried it to its present State of efficiency if I had
been a hopeless man to get on with. . . . Do you
really prefer discussing matters with R., who has
earned the contempt of undergraduates by climbing
up their Staircases and asking them if they liked my
leCtures ? ”

IV

Amidst these gathering clouds O. B. found solace
during the vacations—though his travels during
these years took him as far afield as Russia and South
Africa—at Bexhill. There in a “ vulgar little

266

BEXHILL AND GOLF

house ” he lived almost next door to his unmarried
sister, and enjoyed once again after many years’
interval the pleasure of having a home of his own.
Bexhill, then in its callow youth, at once laid its
spell on his ardent spirit. It had the most bracing
air, the most sunshine of any town in England.
The music at the Kursaal was delightful, the bathing
everything that could be desired. The local papers
printed his letters with three head-lines and called
him “Professor.” He gave lectures himself and
presided at the lectures of others. He was the most
important person in Bexhill. And he was popular
everywhere except on the golf links. For he played
that game without moral earnestness and at the
same time with solemn deliberation that was often
intensified by conversation with the caddy; his red
coat and cap (of the St. Andrew’s Club, as he was
fond of explaining) set off by enormous white
sand-shoes, soon became a familiar danger signal
to all those following him. A danger signal, since
he was true to himself in never giving way unless
obliged, and when it came to bandying repartee
there were few who scored off this elderly and
benevolent figure. At Bexhill he could forget
Cambridge and the dons who wanted to get rid of
him, he could begin work at six-thirty in the
morning and continue till luncheon time free from
interruption, he could enjoy the society of his
friends who came to Stay, and at his sifter's he
could find an agreeable contraft to his own bachelor
establishment, where his housekeeper’s autocracy
was unquestioned so long as she gave him “ a good
dinner every night and a specially good one on
Sundays.” The Sunday evening cold supper O. B.
held in utter horror. And that belief in himself
which was the mark of his genius embraced the
whole of the dull and ugly little town, from the
livid sea, the pebbly beach and the respectable

OSCAR BROWNING

Esplanade to the yellow plush coverings on his
drawing-room chairs—the suite having been bought
en bloc from the local furniture dealer—and imbued
them with the romantic qualities that had adorned
everything with which he had been connected
during his whole adult life.

Yet he could not always forget, and often as he
sat in his beach hut “ Tilsit ”—so called from the
floating pavilion on the Memel in which Napoleon
had signed his treaty with Alexander of Russia—
he suffered the old torture of unrealised hopes and
ambitions, emotions which prose was inadequate
to express:

<c The tide is out, the rocks are bare.

The beach is lone and lorn.

And in my heart a cankering care,

And all my life outworn.”

And again:

€t Closed are the windows of the hut
And every aperture is shut,

Save where the Cabin’s open door
Surveys the ocean’s restless roar.

Closed are the windows of my heart
To thought and fancy, love and art.

And Still the door of life gapes wide
To Stormy passion’s restless tide.”

These Byronic effusions he dashed off to his
friends, often to lady friends, for they were more
sympathetic and appreciated their literary quality
with finer judgment.

He was not always in such dark moods. His
“ Seaside Musings by our Own Poet," sent daily
one long vacation on picture post-cards to a con¬
valescing undergraduate who wanted cheering up,
were in a lighter vein :

“ Everything is calm and placid,

But the little busy ants,

268

IN LIGHTER MOODS

Eager to supply their wants.

Creep o’er cake and bread-and-butter.

And never heed the curse you utter. *

Then they seek your ankles bare.

Penetrate the clothes you wear;

There the lively little things
Flutter their transparent wings
And while everything is placid
Gently drop their formic acid.”

Even tragic things then had something of the
comic spirit :

“ Darling little Freddy’s dead.

The sea has closed above his head.

He will come back no more.

His tiny little wooden spade.

And the unlovely hole he made.

Are left upon the shore.

Alas! ”

Or in his arm-chair after dinner, when he had no
one with whom to play duets or whist, which he
preferred to auction bridge—“ a game for Stock¬
brokers ”—it passed the time to smile at himself:

a Others, whene’er they read a book.

Or on the face of nature look.

Of knowledge Standing on the brink
To gain a deeper insight, think.

But I, more wisely, when I find
Things somewhat arduous for my mind.
Reclining, all voluptuous, share
The comforts of an easy-chair.

Into my inner nature slink.

And, when I should be thinking, blink.”

V

And above all there was the spiritual comfort
which comes from trust and belief in a higher power.
Oscar Browning in his own way was a deeply
religious man, one of those men to whom all
religions, as being the Strivings of the race towards

269

OSCAR BROWNING

the ideal, had a deep and abiding appeal. Sir Atul
Chatterjee, who showed him the temples at Benares,
has remarked on the reverential spirit, rare in a
European, with which he approached those holy
places of Hindoism. For Islam, in its contempt of
death and its belief in prayer, he had a profound
respeft; the sight of a Beduin saying his prayers on
the desert sand filled him, as he said, with a holy
awe. The rites and ceremonies of the Rojnan
Church Stirred his imagination no less than “ the
awfulness of Jehovah.” His faith indeed, though
all his life he was a regular communicant of the
Church of England, transcended creeds and conti¬
nents. Even the heroes of history became circled
with an aureole, and he used to declare, with the
utmost solemnity and in the gravest tones, that
where others took Jesus Christ for their guide in the
daily difficulties of life, he, when in doubt whether
he were following the path of right, would ask
himself what Napoleon would have done under
such circumstances as were perplexing him at the
moment. Yet that he found a humanity in Christi¬
anity which other subtler or simpler religions lack
can be seen in his religious verses.

These, for instance, have caught the very breath
of Catholic devotion. They might have been
written by a Catholic child, or a Catholic saint:

“ A Hunter went a-hunting.

From Heaven’s Holy Throne.

What met him as he hunted ?

A maiden all alone.

The Hunter, him I sing of.

Is known to endless fame.

There went with Him an Angel,

And Gabriel was his name.

The Angel blew his clarion,

Which sounded o’er the place:

‘ Hail to Thee, Maid Maria,

For Thou art full of grace. .

270

CHRISTIAN SCIENCE

‘ Hail to Thee, Maid Maria,

Thou Virgin pure and mild.

Thy blessed womb shall bear Thee
A little tiny child.

‘ Thy blessed womb shall bear Thee
A Child of wondrous birth.

Shall hold in His dominion
The Heaven and the Earth.’

Maria, pure and lowly.

Sank down upon her knee.

She said: * Lord God in Heaven,

Thy will be done in me.

‘ Thy will be done in me. Lord,

No sorrow, pain or smart . 9

Thus Jesus Christ was kindled
Beneath her Virgin heart . 99

Yet these vetses date from 1906, from about the
time when through the agency of Mr. Daniel Mayer,
Still a well-known figure in the concert-world, he
became converted to Christian Science. It happened
in the Strangely fortuitous way by which momentous
events are often brought to pass. He met Mr.
Mayer in the train to Bexhill and, in answer to Mr.
Mayer’s conventional “ How are you ? ” remarked
that he was worried. Mr. Mayer observed that
since he had become a Christian Scientist he had
known no worry, and O. B. listened with delighted
interest to his talk about this new and wonder¬
working religion. On the next day, a Sunday, O. B.
went to the service which Mr. Mayer was in the
habit of holding at his house in Bexhill. From that
time he became a regular attendant at the services
of the Churches of Christ Scientist, and he made the
Rev. Mary G. Baker Eddy’s Science and Health with a
Key to the Scriptures his bedside book. He loved
the services, which, unlike Matins, “ never bored
him,” he approved of the employment of women as
readers, and particularly enjoyed the five minutes
which is allowed during the service for private

271

OSCAR BROWNING

meditation. There was indeed something pro¬
foundly impressive in the way that O. B., during
that period, would close his eyes and with bowed
head indulge in his characteristic gesture of slowly
inflating his cheeks and then of gently blowing
through his half-parted lips, like an elderly cherub,
till his breath failed him.

Though he presided at leCtures on Christian
Science, though he wrote and talked about jt in
terms of the most glowing enthusiasm, he was not,
one may imagine, an orthodox member of that
seCt. In his opinion Christian Science came not to
supplant but to fulfil, and its practice was in no
way inconsistent with membership of the Church
of England, nor with the service of medicine. He
continued to be a communicant and to call in
doftors when he was sick, without considering
that in so doing he was less good a Christian
Scientist. Indeed his belief was justified in the
most Striking way, by nothing less than a miraculous
cure from death when his life had been given up
by the doCtors. He was suffering from double
pneumonia, a complaint which at the age of
seventy-two one imagines is usually fatal. It had
been complicated in his case by having been
preceded by bronchitis. One evening the illness
was at its climax, and from the extravagant way in
which the nurse shovelled coals on the fire he
realised that he was not expeCted to live through
the night. He turned his face to the wall, and after
reviewing his past life, which his daimon in that
extreme hour whispered to him was good, looked
into the next world, derived joy from the reflection
that he would awake in the morning in the presence
of his mother, and repeated continually, “ God is
Love.” He did awake in the morning—but in a
profuse perspiration and with the fever gone. It
was something very like a miracle, and he had been

272

SOUTH AFRICA

cured by Christian Science. The only disadvantage
was “ that he would have the trouble of dying all
over again.” But his illness marked the term of
his Cambridge career.

V

This, however, is to anticipate. For he was
never more aftive than in those last years at Cam¬
bridge. The Training College was always growing,
as was too the interference of the Board of Education
on the one hand and that of the Governing Body
the Teachers’ Training Syndicate on the other.
Both had to be fought if he meant to have his own
way, which was the right way. The necessity of
this made less distasteful the thought of giving
up his history work in King’s, for he would then
have more time to devote to his beloved College,
which he had promised his not less beloved friend,
Henry Sidgwick, that he would never desert, a
promise which the force of circumstance was to
prevent him from keeping.

The longer he lived and the more he saw of the
world, the more interesting he found it. His visit
to South Africa in 1905 had Strengthened his
optimism in the future of the white race in that
continent, as Johannesburg had Strengthened his
“ dislike of money.” He had too for the first time
learnt to love flowers in the gardens of Cape Town.
At St.- Helena Napoleon had appeared more of a
hero than ever, our treatment of him more despic¬
able. The great Liberal vi&ory at the end of that
year was another and more promising 1868, and the
fa£fc that the new Government showed no inclination
to recognise his lifelong services to Liberalism did
not diminish his zeal for the cause, as every morning
after breakfast he read the Daily News and smoked
his Boer calabash. The world was getting better
t 273

OSCAR BROWNING

and better and reason at laSt was triumphing over
prejudice.

One of the forces that would mould the new
Europe was Esperanto. He Studied it, his fortieth
language, and took part in the Esperanto Congress
held at Cambridge in August 1907, playing the part
of Pickwick in an Esperanto version of the Trial
Scene at the New Theatre, in which, however, his
silent role offered him no opportunity of showing his
proficiency in the tongue of Dr. Zamenhof’s inven¬
tion. Another reason for optimism was the foreign
policy of Sir Edward Grey and the rapprochement
with Russia. O. B. firmly believed that the
Tsarist Government was better than any possible
alternative which Russia could supply, and spoke
with disguSt of those fellow Liberals who reviled
it. A third was the Kaiser. Here O. B.’s wrath
overflowed on the Tory Press, and he was moved
in 1908 to write a letter to that potentate expressing
his outraged feelings. “ Mr. Oscar Browning
presents his humble duty to your Majesty and wishes
to express his deep sympathy with and admiration
for your Majesty, and his indignation at the manner
in which your Majesty is being treated by a portion
of the English Press at the present time. Mr.
Browning believes that England has no better or
more sincere friend than your Majesty and that there
is no sovereign in Europe who is more earnestly
desirous of ensuring the peace of the world. "When
Mr. Browning was in Berlin last August attending
the Historical Congress as delegate of the University
of Cambridge, he was assured by influential
Statesmen that it was not likely, nor indeed possible,
that there should be a war between England and
Germany.” Even so do men mix error and truth
in their anticipations of the future.

UNIVERSITY REFORM

VI

With Liberalism thus victorious it was natural
that University Reform should once again come
under discussion and that O. B. should give his
views on the question which had been uppermost
in his mind for a third of a century. Reform, he
said, should come from within, not from without.
It should be decided by the free suffrages of
graduates, not by the interference of Royal Com¬
missions. The University should be brought into
closer touch with the democracy, it should be made
cheaper and more efficient. But let them beware
of following the German ideal of a university.

“ We no longer look with admiration upon a
place which makes the University consist of Pro¬
fessors, who are masters of their subje&s, chiefly
engaged in writing books, of Students left entirely
to themselves, free to attend any leCbures they please,
and to spend the rest of their time as they like, a
system which may Stimulate a few but does not
educate the many, which addresses the mind but
leaves the character and the heart untouched, a
system in which whenever a professor happens to
come into personal contaCt with an undergraduate
he calls it a £ seminar.’ We will have our young
men looked after, and for this purpose we must
provide tutors and Deans, Chapels and Halls, and
a system of College life which allows the lecturers
to become the intimate friends of the pupils en¬
trusted to their charge. The German system of the
first half of the last century may have been better
than the English system of the same epoch, but since
1850 we have made great advances, and our system
of to-day is justly admired by our Teutonic
neighbours who are striving to imitate it.”

275

OSCAR BROWNING

In another paragraph he gives the essence of his
views on Education:

“We must determine whether we desire our
University to be mainly a place of education or a
place of research. We have never come to a
definite conclusion upon this matter. Education
as a science is scarcely recognised by the University,
but if we regard the University as a place of Educ¬
tion we shall have to recognise it. What is meant
by Education ? It is not only the giving of informa¬
tion which can be reproduced in examinations, but
the imparting of this information in a scientific
manner, and further the training of the mind, the
character, the habits, and indeed the whole man.
Education regarded from this point of view is a
modern discovery. It began with the work of
Pestalozzi at Stanz in 1798, it was continued by
Froebel, and systematised by Herbart. These men
have as forerunners Comenius, Locke and Rousseau,
but their principles only found practical expression
in later times. At Stanz a teacher of genius came
for the first time into close connexion with little
children, so that he might Study them minutely.
He lived with them, slept with them. Starved and
suffered with them, and thus he discovered the
hidden secrets of child nature. The system thus
begun, and since formulated, has become the basis
of our training of teachers, has improved our
elementary schools, and made some way into our
secondary schools, but has as yet scarcely affedted
our Universities. In them Education has been
confused with‘ coaching,’ a very inferior occupation
justly looked down upon by Professors and Educa¬
tional reformers. Some lecturers do nothing but
coach, they prepare a careful set of ledtures where
the subjedts to be Studied are tabulated and cut up
into digestible morsels. The ledhire is read out
clearly, so that every word of it may be taken down.

276

CAMBRIDGE NEEDS DEVOTION NOT MONEY

It is then learned by heart, and when reproduced in
an examination is certain to gain marks. The
leCturer of a higher type will do no work for his
pupils which they have not earned by an equal
amount of work done by themselves. He appeals
not to .their memory but to their intelligence. He
thinks not of their success in the Tripos, but of
their grasp and understanding of the subjeft; he
trains not only their minds but their characters,
and fills them not only with knowledge but with
principles which are to govern them in life. Some
Professors do the same, but complete success in
their endeavours can only be attained by complete
contaCt, by an intimacy which reproduces in the
society of young men the intimacy which was the
keynote of the reform at Stanz. For this we must
have Colleges, small classes, discussion societies,
essay writing, and above all individual friendship.
These things are only possible in Colleges, and a
reform which negleCts this ideal and substitutes for
it a mechanical arrangement for the imparting
and testing of knowledge would, if established, be
found to be a delusive failure.”

After going into the items of an undergraduate’s
expenditure and recommending, as one obvious
economy, that Students should be allowed to live
in a single room, he entered a plea, a wise plea,
againSt the belief that all that was wanted was
money. “ There is a widespread belief that what
the University principally requires for its fuller
development is more money. . . . But the need
of money has been exaggerated. It is not certain
that the money which we have received from
benefactors has been wisely spent. There has
certainly been too much building. Men are the
life of institutions—buildings, unless they are kept
within due limits, are often the heralds of decay.
In my thirty years’ work at Cambridge I have been

277

OSCAR BROWNING

closely associated "with three institutions, which hare
been extremely, even notoriously, successful: the
first is King’s College, the second is the Historical
School of the University, and the third is the Cam¬
bridge University Day Training College, and all of
these have been conspicuous for their poverty and
have had little or no assistance from outside. The
Fellowships at King’s, which it was expected would
never fall below -£250 a year, have in recent years
been generally less than £100; all that the University
has contributed to the teaching of history is five
University Lectureships of £50 a year each, as of
the two Professorships the Regius Professor,
appointed by the Crown, is an institution quite
independent of the existence of an Historical Tripos;
and the Professorship of Ecclesiastical History,
besides being partly theological, is a private endow¬
ment connected with Emmanuel College. The
Day Training College, which now numbers eighty
Students, has received but little assistance from the
University, and if a secondary department had not
been attached to it, it would have cost the University
nothing at all. It is not money that we want so much
as devoted workers and intelligent methods.”

He ended this academic testament with a warning
against the State of the Public Schools :

“ The reform of our Universities is closely con¬
nected with a deeper question, the reform of our
public schools. They cannot be said to be in a
satisfactory condition, they have been corrupted
by habits of idleness and extravagance, and by the
abnormal development of athletic worship, which
is nothing short of a national calamity. In the long
catena of theories framed for the improvement of
education, there is none which has proposed to
reform education by establishing it upon a basis of
athletic distinction, and that is what our public
schools avowedly and undeniably do. They are,

278

PRAISE OF ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS

as Professor Thompson has said, excellent places
to spend the holidays in, but very unfit for the hard
labour of a term’s Study. If the culture and energy
of England depended upon them, the outlook for
our country would be dark indeed, but the mass of
our people is probably sound, and the intellectual
habit which the public schools fail to impart is to be
found in our elementary schools. Only those who
have had the opportunity of becoming acquainted
with them are aware of the Standard reached by the
pupils of these institutions, even under our present
untoward conditions, and of the high merit to be
found in their teachers. The business of the
University is to make the highest education available
for even the lowest social Strata, by the training of
its teachers, by the inculcation of sound principles
of education as distinguished from instruction and
from research, and by reducing the expense of
University life, so as to bring it within the reach
of a humble purse; Cambridge, at least, is doing
this; for this it needs no external Commission, it
is quite competent to control its own destinies. All
that is needed is a clear vision of the objects to be
attained, and a Strenuous determination to carry
the Struggle for improvement to a successful issue.”

VII

O. B. had resigned the duties of history tutor,
not without much good advice to the successor
whom the College had appointed from amongst
his old pupils. He had been persuaded not to
continue to leCture, or rather his proposal to do so
had been received so coldly that he perforce
abandoned it. His work in King’s was at an end,
and at a dinner given to him by his Political Society
he bestowed his formal blessing on those who were

279

OSCAR BROWNING

taking the torch from his none too ready hand,
and he received the affeftionate compliments of Sir
AuSten Chamberlain on having reaped the finest
reward that life can offer, the gratitude of many
generations of young men.

His historical work in King’s was at an end. But
not his work in the University. Once more the
chance of occupying a professorial chair, this time
the Whewell Professorship of International Law,
passed before him. True, in international juris¬
prudence—supposing such a thing existed—he was
not learned. But, as he pointed out in his letter of
candidature to the Vice-Chancellor, one of the
specific duties of the Whewell Professor was to give
leftures which might lead to the diminution or
extinction of war, and this might be done as effectively
by the historical investigation of the causes which
led to war. Since he had Studied and written on
the War of the Spanish Succession, the Seven Years’
War and the foreign policy of William Pitt, he was
well qualified to speak with authority on this asp eft
of the subjeft. The eleftors, however, were uncon¬
vinced, and Oscar Browning was not given the
chance of lefturing on international law from the
historical Standpoint.

But there was always the Day Training College,
to which he meant to devote the remainder of his
health and Strength. In the ruling of that flourish¬
ing institution, which he had built up almost
unaided in the face of scepticism or indifference,
his genius could Still find scope. Every year he
was Strengthening the ties between the elementary
schools and the University, sowing the seeds of
culture in the demos, building up something that
would in the end take the place of the public
schools, which had become little more than breed-
ing-grounds of snobbery and athleticism. It was
all the more necessary to give much time to the

280

TROUBLES WITH THE SYNDICATE

College because, now that the principle had been
won, the battle gained, others were coming in to
reap the kudos or to interfere with his benevolent
autocracy. No longer, as before, was he left free
to take what he considered the beSt course. The
members of the Teachers’ Training Syndicate, the
Governing Body of the College, who at one time
could with difficulty be persuaded' to attend the
meetings, now came, criticised, opposed. They
were specially tiresome in finance, which had never
been O. B.’s Strong point. A sub-committee of the
Syndicate had been investigating the accounts of
the D.T.C., and had found that it was difficult to
“ disentangle the items,” and that the balances in
hand were “ artificial.” The appointment of a
Treasurer was recommended. Matters came to a
head at a meeting of the Syndics on one of the
days when O. B. was lying dangerously ill of double
pneumonia and was, of course, unable to attend.
Under the chairmanship of Walter Durnford, who
had succeeded to his house at Eton and was now
destined to succeed him at the Training College,
they carried certain resolutions which caused O. B.,
when convalescent, to write a letter of protest.
“ I consider,” he said, after making his obje&ions,
“ that I have been treated by the Syndicate ” (he
had been Secretary of this since 1878) “ with injury
and insult—injury by being deprived of my
covenanted Stipend, and insult by the Syndics
dealing dire&ly with a member of my Staff without
consulting me. This has caused me great annoy¬
ance and distress of mind. I sincerely hope that
you will not approve of this aftion of the Syndicate
in these matters. If you do, you must be very
different to the Walter Durnford whom I knew as a
colleague at Eton many years ago.”

Instead of O. B. receiving satisfa&ion for his pride
or his pocket, there came a little later a letter from

281

OSCAR BROWNING

the Vice-Chancellor, a carefully, indeed a grace¬
fully worded letter, in which he was asked to com¬
mit hari-kari. It dwelt on his past services, “ the
energy and resourcefulness, the knowledge based
upon large experience, the unstinting diligence ”
with which he had administered the College. But
changes had to be made, and the Governing’Body
did not feel it easy to carry them through whilst
he was Principal of the College and Secretary of
the Syndicate, and the Vice-Chancellor ventured
“ most relu&antly to ask ” whether O. B. did not
think that the time had come when he might pass
on into other hands work which had now to be done
under other conditions than those to which he was
accustomed. The purport of the letter was quite
unmistakable, but O. B., whilst describing it in his
reply as “ very kind and considerate,” asked for a
few days in which to make a decision that would
change the whole course of his life—for without the
Training College there would be no work for him
at Cambridge, and he would not remain in residence
as a mere Fellow of King’s, with nothing to do
except eat his dinner in Hall, with no occupation
to disguise how unnatural was the life of a don.
The few days were given. No one would wish to
hurry him. Dr. Mason was anxious that O. B.
should be given time. Still hari-kari is an unpleasant
business for the principal aftor, and it was necessary
to remind him that he should take the knife so
courteously offered. “ The more I consider the
matter,” said Dr. Mason in a second letter, “ the
more I feel that it would be a relief to both sides if
you were disposed to say that you did not propose
to seek re-ele£tion. I should be deeply grieved if
you were to seek reappointment and not be re¬
appointed.” So without more ado O. B. ended
his Cambridge career in Samurai fashion, resigning
both offices in a letter which, as the Vice-Chancellor

28a

“A TISSUE OF TREACHERY AND INTRIGUE”

observed, was marked by the dignity and kindliness
to be expected from him.

Thus every tie which bound him to Cambridge
was severed, and O. B. was angrier than he had
been at any time since his dismissal from Eton.
When later he had a letter from the Vice-Chancellor
to tell him that the Syndics had agreed to appoint
Mr. W. G. Bell as Secretary of the Syndicate and
Walter Durnford as Acting Principal of the College,
the two members of the Syndicate whom O. B.
considered as being responsible for the movement
to force his resignation, he could only find relief
for his feelings in describing this as having been
brought about by the vileSt tissue of treachery
and intrigue which ever Stained the annals of the
University. “It was bad enough,” he wrote to
a friend, “to have been driven from Cambridge
at ten days’ notice. To feel that my work might
perish in incompetent hands was an additional
pang.”

It was irritating too that people should believe
he had resigned owing to ill health. Copies of the
correspondence, which he circulated industriously,
showed that this was not so. For “ they smelt of
intrigue,” and friends and sympathisers agreed that
they left a bad impression. It was another case,
remarked the General Secretary of the National
Union of Teachers, who had sent O. B. a message
of thanks from his Executive for the way he had
consistently honoured and upheld the democratic
movement for the well-being of the people by
improved education, and for his equally consistent
support of the Union—“it was another case of
that pushing from Stools which was too common
on the part of pushing people.” Lord Curzon
was of opinion that the Story did not read pleasantly
and that there was an evident motive behind, which
not even the skill of the Vice-Chancellor could

283

OSCAR BROWNING

conceal. Letters flowed in, letters of regret from
Students, from colleagues, from friends. Every¬
one, even the members of the Syndicate, seemed
ready to record their appreciation of his work.
But these did not sweeten the bitterness which
he felt at being separated from his favourite child.
His life at Cambridge had suddenly snapped and
he could never go back there again after the
way he had been treated. In spite of Christian
Science he worried; he dreamt of Durnford, as his
diary records. Only on the condition that no dons
were present could he be induced to revisit Cam¬
bridge for a night in order to be present at a fare¬
well dinner by the Students of the College. Even
amongst his own subordinates there had been dis¬
loyalty. Nothing but gross misconduft, he said,
could have justified the treatment which had been
dealt out to him, “ and all done at ten days’ notice
when I was recovering from a dangerous illness
which nearly coSt me my life.” It was with such
resentment that the beSt known don of our time
shook the duSt of Cambridge from off his feet.

VIII

Lastly, as a pendant to this Story of his Cam¬
bridge career, is a picture of him by an old pupil *
who has been able to write unhampered by the
responsibility that attends the biographer:

“ I first met O. B. in December 1901, the week
of my scholarship examination. He asked me to
dine with him in his rooms, to consume an Italian
turkey which he had raised on his water-logged
chicken farm near the swimming sheds. I was
somewhat shocked to find that he ate in his bedroom,
and I peeped furtively at him during dinner,
* Professor C. R. Fay, of the University of Toronto.

284

PROFESSOR FAY’S RECOLLECTIONS

arre§led by the way in which he rubbed his hands,
now on the edge of the table and now on his knees,
in prandial satisfaction. The next afternoon, in
cap and gown, he Stumped into the old Dining Hall
at Caius, where I was unloading my slender store of
Aristotle and his politics, and whispered to me:

‘ How do you like the paper ? I set it.’ But I did
not reply, fearing that the retiring vigilator would
expel me for breach of rules. He wired ecstatically
the news of my election, and followed it up with a
letter almost illegible, in which he advised me to
read Gibbon before coming up in October, and
averred that I would have been a foundation
instead of a Laurence Sanders scholar but for the
outrageous favouritism invariably shown to the
classics. He suited a raw but enthusiastic young
person perfectly. That is to say, he did not teach
me at all. But he slept inspiringly under a red
handkerchief while Phillips and I read him our
weekly essays; he advised me to consult ‘ Mickie,’
my predecessor at school and College, about my
reading (for he said that he never read any books in
English himself), and as I too possessed Houssaye’s
volume on 1813-1815, I had his permission to cut
the leCfcures in which he read out translations
therefrom.

“ He dropped in on me and the other scholars
in King’s Lane now and then, and one day bought
some prints to cover the naked walls of Page, our
thrifty mathematician. To Keynes, a fellow
Etonian, he was somewhat cool. I was surprised
that he took no interest in my football exploits,
but I had not then heard the oft-told tale of himself
and Culture versus Warre and Muscle. These
somewhat unusual methods of education he crowned
by taking me to Italy for my first EaSter vacation.
He gave me to understand that I was not nearly so
bright as George Curzon, whom he had taken years

285

OSCAR BROWNING

ago, but allowed that I was more interesting than a
certain pious pupil who had cycled with him to the
Tyrol with a Family Bible on his carrier and who,
on crossing the border from Bavaria, had asked him
what language they spoke in Austria.

“ I took with me £5, hidden away in an inside
pocket; and as we neared Milan, I buttoned up my
coat for safety. £ Why do you look so green ? ’
he said. ‘ These Italians are perfectly delightful
people. You should say “ Buon giorno ” to them,’
and he proceeded to £ Buon giorno ’ two neatly
dressed gentlemen in our firSt-class carriage. On
alighting he put his hand into his breast pocket for
the luggage ticket (he had paid £5 is. 6d. at Victoria),
and then exclaimed : ‘ My pocket-book has gone.’
We hurried to the Administration, and pushing a
Straw-pierced cigar through the wicket in order to
expedite attention, he proceeded to unfold his
calamity. But the Administration desired only to
know the name of his father and when he died, and
wrote down these two fads in a large book. How¬
ever, the O. B. was a thorough sportsman and
decided to laugh at his misfortune and to make the
best of it. This took the form of omitting Venice
from our route and calling on the various news¬
paper correspondents, to whom he told our loss,
adding a short Story in which he and Victor Hugo
figured together. About a fortnight later the Press
clippings began to come along with the news of
the robbery and the Victor Hugo tale. We had
adjoining rooms, and he burbled through the door :
‘ Fay, isn’t it extraordinary what an interest the
British public takes in me ? ’ I was tired with
gazing all day at pidures and Statutes and muttered
back: ‘ No wonder, considering the trouble we
took to let them know.’ £ That’s a most foolish
remark,’ he snorted. £ It sounds as though I
advertised myself.’ But that was the only

286

A MERRY-GO-ROUND IN FLORENCE

unpleasant episode in four weeks of sunshine
and to me (for I had never been abroad before)
passionate enjoyment.

“ We were in Florence on Good Friday, and that
morning, returning from early service, he met a
pleasant young Englishman in the Street, and
shaking him by the hand invited him to lunch.

‘ Who is it ? ’ I asked. ‘ I haven’t the least idea,’
said O. B. ‘I never set eyes on him before in my
lif t, jamais de ma vie .’ But an extra sense must have
helped him, for he too was a newspaper corre¬
spondent. On the evening of St. Joseph’s. Day
(I think it was) we went to a pifture show, and later
on reserved for an hour a whole merry-go-round,
to which O. B. treated all the male ragamuffins
within sight. Fie secured an oStrich and I a dragon,
and I can Still see him on his oStrich, his coat-tails
flying, his square black hat on the back of his head,
exclaiming between the bleats of the organ: ‘ I
say, ain’t it awfully jolly ? ’ It being Easier week
we could get no hotel in advance in Rome, but a
wire to Count Ugo Balzani produced a lodging
with a certain Madame Cifarielli, the wife of an
archited (so she told us), Via Aurora 43. The
manner of our leaving was remarkable; for she
made monstrous overcharges on the bill (40 baths—
40 francs, referring to as many pails of cold water),
and she pinched most of O. B.’s washing. She
lived up one side of the porchway and we up the
other. On the last day I Stood in the porch and,
aided by a policeman, parleyed for linen. Out at
last she flung the O. B.’s properties, pairs of boots
and collars and shirts. When I clamoured for the
three shirts Still missing, she dramatically seized a
pink chemise and flung it through the door at my
feet. We left in such a tension that the O. B. forgot
his silk hat, which was under the bed, and I had to
dismount from the carriage (for he refused to look

287

OSCAR BROWNING

upon her again) and creep back for it on foot. I
should explain that the O. B. packed, or rather
Fritz (his valet) packed for him, by the dozen, a
dozen pair of boots, a dozen shirts, and of all things
a dozen pairs of braces !

“ One hot day we climbed to the top of St. Peter’s.
I got inside the copper dome, and the O. B;, who
would never own himself beaten, got his head and
shoulders through the aperture. Almost suffocat¬
ing, I besought him to yield, and finally pushed him
back by his bald head. He refused to call upon the
Pope as he had so often done so, but he paid a visit
of respeft to the widowed Queen Margherita.
She was out, but a fancy drain-pipe, which served
as a receptacle for cards, was indicated to us, and
into it he dropped his. I was about to do the same
when he checked me, saying : ‘ My dear boy, she’s
never heard of you.’ Riding back in our cardinal’s
carriage I fell asleep, to be aroused by the move¬
ments of the O. B., who suddenly leaped from his
seat and bowed many times. The Queen turned
towards him, and O. B. said: ‘ Did you notice
what attention she paid to me ? ’ I thought it not
surprising, but being wiser by this time said nothing.

“ However, it was for the International Historical
Congress that we had come to Rome; and O. B.,
Professor at Cambridge as he told everyone, was
convinced that James Bryce was' conspiring to
deprive him of the recognition he deserved. It was
my job to neutralise Bryce by going round the
seftion rooms and finding out if any section lacked a
president. On one afternoon I bagged the seftion
on Byzantine Music. For the lawful president,
a German, had overstayed the luncheon hour, and
when he returned was too shy to dethrone the O. B.,
who, having magnificently dismissed the inter¬
preters, delivered greetings and summaries of each
paper in all the languages permitted at the

288

IN ROME AND FLORENCE

Congress. But even greater satisfaction came on the
la§t day. Bryce -was to deliver a farewell address,
and he was juSt under weigh, when near to us a
black-bearded gentleman climbed upon a table and
said that his Municipality had sent him to sing the
praises of its local poet, Cesare Cantos, and that
with o‘r without the permission of the chair he would
read an extract from his writings. The chairman
banged his bell, the audience hissed. But all in
vain. The O. B. and I cheered lustily, and while
the meeting was disbanding in confusion,, the
orator’s bodyguard dragged him from the table and
saluted him with kisses on the cheek.

“ We used to dine at a small cafe in one of the
Piazzas. While we waited for our food, it was
in O. B.’s fancy to write doggerel Latin verses,
which he could do at the rate of about two a minute.
I never was much of a classic, but as far as I could
judge he knew most of the Latin poets by heart
and would quote Horace and Virgil as we went
to this place or that. I admit that O. B. was not a
scientific historian, but it is foolish to use'the word
charlatan of a man whose conversational range was
enormous. He told me that he wrote the article
on Florentine Art for one of the guide-books
sitting in a hotel lounge at Lucerne without looking
at a single catalogue. Things sometimes went
wrong. ‘ I didn’t know, O. B.,” said a friend once,
* that Charles XII campaigned in Siberia ’—as he
did throughout the whole of one of O. B.’s books.
e Oh ! ’ said O. B., ‘ merely a misprint for Silesia.
I never read proofs.’ And speaking of books I
am reminded of Guelphs and Ghibellines. We
wandered through Florence to see which book-shops
Stocked that immortal work. In one it was
remaindered, to the O. B.’s indignation, and we
discussed the expediency of paying the bookseller
the difference if he would mark it up again,
u 289

OSCAR BROWNING

“ My affedion for the O. B. increased as the years
went on. I never had a row with him and could
never see why anyone junior to him ever had. His
Political Society was as good as any in the University,
then or later, and he was one of the most interesting
members of it. Moreover, he had a healthy
prejudice in favour of King’s men. He examined
me in Part I of the Tripos and obligingly told me
my marks afterwards. I understand that. his
co-examiners threatened to resign if ever he was
appointed again. But, as he said to me: ‘You
can’t keep too close an eye on Laurence : he is
always fond of his own men.’ The O. B. had many
dislikes, but of three men he never spoke ill—Henry
Sidgwick his idol, and two King’s men of the next
generation, Lowes Dickinson and Wedd. He
assured me that they were, like him, inspired as
teachers by a Socratic daimon.

“ I corresponded regularly with him till the year
of his death. All his letters were full of Italy and
his latest book and congratulations on this and
that and the other thing. I had made all plans to
visit him in the Easier of 1921, but family illness
prevented me; so the last time I saw him was at
Temperley’s wedding, when he and Laurence,
Stranded outside the same church, jumped into the
same hansom.

“ As a formal teacher O. B. was elusive, but so
(in a different sense) was my other great hero, Alfred
Marshall. The O. B. enthused you with the
importance of history and the inevitability of getting
a first if you were at King’s—this he illustrated
after his retirement by Statistics and charts. But he
talked to you about Napoleon, Dante, George Eliot
and the latest language he was learning. One
paid sometimes in silent listenings to the endless
epic of his Training College. But it was worth it.
Who will ever forget the sight of him as he splashed

290

TRIPOS WEEK AT KING’S

into the rivet, flopping like a potpoise and incredibly
round ? Not I. For in that same term he put me,
a Freshman, in the way of earning three guineas by
coaching another King’s man in the Fall of Napoleon.
I didn’t know much about it yet myself, but, as he
truly said, ‘ That’s the easiest way of getting to
know it.’

“ And then there was Tripos week, when he kept
open house for all his men, feeding us on cream
cheeses, lettuces, great round cakes and hock. I
understand that he once took hock and oysters at
bedtime as a cure for indigestion and found it very
efferiive. But at that time he was not a Christian
Scientist. When things were getting a bit difficult
in later days, Macaulay (who was Tutor then) once
came round to me, now a B. A., and asked me frankly
what I thought of O. B.’s work. I Stood up for
him then as I Stand up for him now. He was a
hopeless lecturer, but there never was a better place
for a young historian than King’s in the days of O. B.

“ In his dining-room at Bexhill there were two,
and only two, portraits, Napoleon and himself.
Was Napoleon a fraud ? It’s easy to say so, but
only the fools say it.”

291

PART III
OLD AGE

CHAPTER XVI

ROME

I

With his retirement from Cambridge O. B.,
now in his seventy-third year, definitely crossed
the threshold of old age.

“ Life cannot run as runs a silken thread

Through soft caressing fingers; we must strive.

We men, with wrathful smile and clamour fell;

But when the fight is o’er, the hot words said.

Nought, nought but gracious memories survive
Of him who fights unflinching, and fights well.”

Thus ran the seStet of a sonnet which A. C. Benson
had addressed to O. B. on his seventieth birthday.
Since then many more hot words had been said;
during the past year or two life had run anything
but a caressing course. And now that the fight
seemed to be over, the memories which survived,
on O. B.’s part, were by no means gracious. He
was, on the contrary, sore and angry, as men
are apt to become when they have laboured without
recognition. The serenity and calm wisdom which
are supposed to be the appanage of the years did
not adorn O. B.’s old age, perhaps because he
never grew old, but then in one sense O. B. was
never young. How could he have been when at
the age of four the doctrine of the relativity of
sensation had been perfectly clear to him? He
himself doubted “ whether there was any essential
growth in human faculty from the cradle to the

295

OSCAR BROWNING

grave.” So now when he should have been
already preparing to depart, loosening one by one
the ties which bound him to life, he was, on the
contrary, preparing at last to begin his career—the
career which he had longed for as a boy, the career
which he had sacrificed to the claims of duty. His
youthful imagination had been warmed by the
radiance of the glory which Shelley, Byron, Keats
had won thirty years before. It was late, perhaps,
at seventy-two “to succeed in winning a serious
literary reputation.” But he would try, and he
was encouraged by Lord Latymer, most loyal and
devoted of friends, who once again generously
helped him over his financial difficulties, this time
occasioned by his retirement from Cambridge.

In deciding thus not only would he be following
his own inclinations and the advice of his most
intimate friend, he would be heeding more auguSt
intimations. For in June 1909, when he had
resigned from the Training College and was neces¬
sarily somewhat at a loss, as is every man when he
finds his occupation suddenly and unexpectedly gone,
God said to him: “ You have done enough

teaching. You must give it up and write.” With
such zeal did he follow this order from above, that
within the space of five years he had written and
seen published the formidable amount of 1,100,000
words or the equivalent of eight novels of average
length. And since he had received no intimation to
the contrary, he went on writing for another seven
years, until the total of words had risen to some
two millions. Then at the age of eighty-four he
loft the use of his right hand. O. B. thought at
first that it must be a slight Stroke. But the doCtors,
who diagnosed it as writer’s cramp, were for once
not mistaken. Anyhow, as O. B. wrote to Lord
Curzon, it did not worry him. God had told him
to write. He had done so and had made £840.

296

IN THE LEVANT

“ Now He said: ' You muSt give up writing and
only read and think/ I obey Him and am quite
comfortable and perfe&ly well/’ And obedience
was the less irksome since, owing to the war, the
last seven or eight hundred thousand words had
not found a publisher.

Though O. B. wrote assiduously he was no slave
to his craft. He wrote much but he wrote very
easily. It sometimes occurred to him that he wrote
too easily. After recording in his diary that
during the week he had added another 20,000
words to his Memories of Sixty Years , upon which
he was then engaged, he adds the question : “ Too
much ? ” Still he could not do otherwise. Neither
his diary nor his private papers, which at his death
amounted to about one hundred thousand pieces,
were as good a quarry as his own memory, and his
Style was not of the kind that would submit to
polishing. In consequence he had plenty of time
to enjoy the pleasures of the world. Finding a
pied-a-terre in Town “ a necessity rather than a
luxury,” he established himself in Hill Street,
Knightsbridge, conveniently close to the Ser¬
pentine, where he liked to bathe before breakfast.
If entries in his diary are to be believed, he was a
frequent visitor to its chilly banks in the February
of 19x0, when he had been three years a sep¬
tuagenarian. It is a historical fad that he offered
a cup to be competed for by the hardy Londoners
who take their morning bath in its broad waters.

He was free too to travel as the inclination took
him, and in the spring of the same year he went
on a tour of the Near East, visiting Athens, Con¬
stantinople and Jerusalem, and spending some
months in Egypt, Cyprus and Syria. Everywhere
he was received with courtesy, treated with dis¬
tinction, invited to dine or ledure. Only at
Alexandria, which, unlike most tourists, he found

297

OSCAR BROWNING

the moft tomantic city in Egypt, with the spirit of
Cleopatra Still brooding over its quays, was he
annoyed by the manners of the British Consul-
General, himself a historian, who took the chair at
a ledhire in French he delivered upon Napoleon
and yawned whilst it was in progress. In Egypt
O. B. visited schools, found the young Egyptians
intelligent and pleasant-mannered, though he dis¬
covered that their morals left much to be desired.
He was glad also to be able to confirm at first hand
his belief that the British Occupation had been a
brilliant success, a belief that did not prevent him
from writing a sonnet, inspired by the quiet of
Helwan, adjuring Egypt to sleep on

“ Till God, in His full purpose, from the skies
To teach the WeSt, shall bid the EaSt arise.”

After exploring the Gothic and Byzantine memorials
which attest the greatness of Cyprus’s past, he went
on to Syria, and in spite of his disgust with Turkish
misrule discovered there the Italy and the Italians
of the EaSt.

When he returned to London he found that he
had no money and no work to do. However, he did
not worry. “ I leave my plans to Almighty God,”
he wrote, “ who I am sure can arrange for me far
better than I can arrange for myself, and if when I
go to bed I have spent a happy and useful day, I
am content and expedt that the nex± will be similar.”
His faith was justified; for Lord Curzon lent him
£100, his bank another £100, and a publisher
suggested that he should write a history of the
world in eight large volumes. At once O. B.
Started on a synopsis of this work which had been
so opportunely proposed to him, and in a couple
of months had produced a scheme complete in
four sedtions (Ancient, Mediaeval, Modern and
Recent) and 360 chapters. It promised to be an

298

ETON AND THE HOUSE OF LORDS

immense affair, such as might tax the capacity of
any man. But he was confident of his powers and
felt, as he surveyed its majestic proportions, that
he “ could have lectured on any chapter with half
an hour’s preparation.” The publishers, however,
grew doubtful about the public interest in ancient
history, and ultimately they commissioned him to
write only the last section. It was accordingly to
this- that he addressed himself, and with such
assiduity that it was published less than two years
later under the title of A. Hiffory of the Modern
World. The whole of these two bulky volumes,
running altogether to 400,000 words, were written
in about sixteen months between the hours of five
and eight in the mornings.

II

A large part of every year he spent in Italy. He
felt happier under Italian skies, found living cheaper
there than in England. Rome, where he made his
head-quarters, offered him “ the best and moSt
intellectual society in Europe.” But he loSt none
of his interest in the things with which his life had
been occupied. His Liberalism burnt with as sure
and Steady a flame as ever, and when asked by one
of the papers to say what he hoped for the world
in the new year of 19x3 which was about to begin,
he replied, the continued triumph of the Liberal
Party and the expulsion of the Turks from Europe.
It was too a satisfaction, if a melancholy one, to
feel that the Tory Party was reaping the fruits of
the injustice with which he himself had been treated.
The future of the House of Lords, one of the
political questions which Englishmen thought im¬
portant in the spring of 1914, drew from him a long
letter to Lord Curzon. “ You know,” he wrote,
“that I am a partisan of the democracy to the

299

OSCAR BROWNING

marrow of my bones. When I went to Eton in
i860 I was well awate of the political situation. I
knew that the revolution must come. I felt that
the only chance of avoiding a catastrophe lay in
the education of the governing classes, not to
prevent the revolution but to make it more gradual,
and I believe that I did some good in that direction.
I have not forgotten that the first time you intro¬
duced me to your wife at Marlborough House,-you
said, apropos of our conversation : ‘ Whatever I
am, my dear, I owe it all to Mr. Browning.’ This
was, of course, not true, but it was some acknow¬
ledgment of what I had tried to do. I was head of
the intellectual party, which consisted of Wayte,
Stone, Luxmoore and Cornish. Warre was the head
of the other party; Warre who had ‘ a passionate
hatred of the intellect.’ Hornby, a hopeless idiot,
instead of holding the balance, took Warre’s side
and out-Warre’d Warre. So I was dismissed and
my party dispersed. Stupidity and reaction went
on unchecked and all chance of the governing
classes receiving an education to fit it for its duties
was loSt. The test came in 1910, when the aris¬
tocracy was on its trial. The peers came on to
the platform and were laughed at. You were the
only peer who drew an audience comparable to that
drawn by the leaders of the Commons. The country
found that the peers were worth nothing, that they
had bartered their duties for self-indulgence, and
the Parliament ACt was passed. ... The aris¬
tocracy is responsible for its own downfall, and in
many it is deserved. The ‘ Souls ’ did their best to
Stem the tide. We Eton reformers (of whom the
world knows nothing) did our best. But the forces
of nature were against us.” And then O. B.
suddenly turns to a conversation he has had with
General Ricciotti Garibaldi, a democrat like him¬
self, who had remarked that “ Napoleon had only

300

HIS ROMAN EXILE

juSt failed in doing a greater work than Jesus
Christ, with whom he might be compared.” The
only greater man was Julius Caesar, “ whom those
donkeys murdered.” Thus the Statesman-mind
took its wide sweeps through the fields of affairs,
paSt and present, and was often able in the process
to connect the general with the particular, the
future of England or the genius of Napoleon with
the life and works of O. B.

Not that truth was easy to weigh in the rough
balance of the human reason, even in so simple a
problem as the failure of the peers. “ The most
useful and important things ” (he is writing to
Lord Latymer) “ are often inexplicable, and the
principle of inheritance is one of them. It would
be a terrible thing if the peers were lost to public
life, the most valuable element in the country. But
they must be chastened by misfortune and reformed.”

The war came to direft such speculations into
other channels. In August 1914, Oscar Browning
was in the Apennines. Though he felt “ rather
ashamed at being out of England,” and wrote
offering to replace any elementary schoolmaster
who had gone to the front, he realised that he was
not likely to be wanted and decided to remain in
Italy. Thus the exile to Rome, for which he had
often wished at Cambridge, became an accom¬
plished fa£t Nor were his last years clouded by
the horror of war. The holocaust of the youth
and manhood of Europe hardly touched him im¬
aginatively. He was shocked and grieved when he
heard of the death of any of his former pupils.
But wars were always cruel, and the historian from
his training, the Statesman from his nature, should
never be a sentimentalist. So the cry of the “ war
to end war,” which was “ an insult to the intel¬
ligence of the English people,” filled him with
irritation, and when in 19x7 he was asked to speak

301

OSCAR BROWNING

at a meeting in Rome in favour of the establishment
of a League of Nations, he amazed a pacifist audience
by saying that the annals of the world were paved
with plans for universal peace, just as hell was
paved with good intentions. It was right to make
schemes, and they did good, but it was vain to
suppose that they would succeed. Peace and War
depended on causes outside of our ken and beyond
our control, like the weather. “ My dear Frank,”
he adds to his letter to Lord Latymer describing
this event, “ they are the will of God, and whatever
He wills is both right and good.”

To submit to the will of God, that was what
Christian Science taught him and what he tried to
do in so far as in him lay. All was for the best,
even in the dark autumn of 1914. “ In looking

forward at the end of the old year,” he writes in
his diary on the last day of that December, when he
was about to enter on his seventy-eighth year, “ I
find that in my mind this world and the next are
inextricably joined together. I do not care whether
I shall live to the end of this year, for it is indif¬
ferent to me whether I live in this world or the
next, I only know that I shall live. This feeling
has never been present to me before. Amen.
Thank God for all His blessings.”

m

These were not few. On all sides he saw
indications that his reputation was growing. His
le&ures on the history of Mediaeval Italy had
increased it in Rome, his books had done the
same in England and America. The Eighty Club
elected him an honorary member on the ground of
his long and distinguished service to the Liberal
Party, and in 1921 the University of Cambridge
had asked him to be their official representative at

302

ETON ACCEPTS HIS PORTRAIT

the Dante Commemoration held by the University
of Bologna. As he told Lord Curzon, it was “ a
great and surprising honour.” “ I should have
liked,” he says, “ above all things to go. They
would probably have made me a Doctor and
perhaps a Commendatore, and I should have met
many Dante friends. But poSt-war railway travelling
in Italy would have been too much for a man of
eighty-four and the doctors peremptorily forbade it.

Six months later he had a Still greater surprise.
“ My dear George,” O. B. writes in February 1922
to Lord Curzon, “ a wonderful thing has hap¬
pened. Someone has given a portrait of me to
Eton College and it has been accepted. Luxmoore
told me this, and I thought that it muSt have been
Lord Latymer. I wrote to ask him, and he told
me that he had given it, but he would not let me
know anything about it till he had heard where it
had been hung. He said that they seemed very
much pleased about it. I have written to Mac-
naghten, but he has not answered. Perhaps he
has never received the letter. At any rate it is a
marvellous occurrence and may be compared to
the new Pope blessing the people in the Piazza.
In one way I regard it as a tardy and inadequate
reparation for a monstrous ad of injustice. On
the other hand it is the closing of a long feud and
an acknowledgment that I am one of the most dis¬
tinguished Eton masters. ... I can hardly believe
it.”

So much for Eton and Cambridge. Everything
was working out at last; and in the world he was
gaining the kind of reputation he desired. He had
written- an article for the Sunday Times and been
introduced in an editorial caption as the “ famous
historian and educationist.” That is exa&ly, he
observes with complacency, what he wishes to
be known as, and it has taken him eighty years to

3°3

OSCAR BROWNING

achieve. The Daily Mirror too had published a
poem of his in its poets’ corner, in his opinion
“ the greatest honour which can befall any author.”
Thus he writes to Lord Latymer, who for fifty
years had been his dearest and now was his “ only
friend,” and adds that the sele&ion of poems in
that paper has been the best for years—“ everyone
a gem, including mine.” On one of his many
walks in Rome, “which often cover eight or.ten
miles,” he takes up in a bookshop a copy of Pears’
Shilling 'Encyclopedia and finds his name amongst
the Prominent People; “ that is,” he explains,
“ the 3000 most distinguished people who have
lived since the beginning of the world.” He writes
an epigram upon his being a “ prominent person
in Pears’,” and circulates it amongst his friends.
His biography in the latest edition of the Encyclo¬
pedia Britamica is also, of course, a tribute, but he
confesses to Lord Curzon that he wishes it had not
treated him rather as a personality than as a his¬
torian and “ the greatest teacher ” of his time.

When the do&or told him that he would live
to be a hundred, he felt that he did not want to,
because he was anxious to see what the next world
was like. Yet “ the third volume ” was proving
the most interesting of all. It enabled him to
watch the whole careers of those whom he had
known as boys. Lord Balfour at sixteen. Lord
Curzon at fourteen. He writes thus to the Foreign
Secretary, who is then engaged on “ the dreary
work of trying to reconcile national jealousies and
rapacities,” and asks him how he likes AuSten for
his colleague. “ Of course he is an old and dear
friend of mine,” O. B. remarks, “ honeSt and
upright as the day, but not very clever. He owes
his advancement to his character, and I am glad
that I had a share in his education.” Often to
Lord Latymer, the only other correspondent to

3°4

LORD CURZON AND THE PREMIERSHIP

whom he habitually unburdened himself about
politics, he laments the ignorance of Mr. Lloyd
George, whom at other times he finds it convenient
to extol as a product of the elementary schools.
Count de Salis, our Minister at the Vatican, had
spent an hour and a half with him, and told him
that the Pope was indignant at the way we had left
our ally Nicholas in the lurch and rejoiced in his
being dethroned and imprisoned. “ David,” O. B.
writes after recounting this conversation, “ has
been terrible, but then he knows nothing of history
or foreign politics.” Luckily the two Etonians in
the Cabinet, Balfour and Curzon, had not com¬
mitted themselves. He thought too that the King
had been badly advised in writing to Kerensky:
“ George III would never have written to Robes¬
pierre.” Politics were certainly of absorbing
interest, though his views on English affairs might
be juSt as great “ rot ” as those of Goldwin Smith
when he lived at Toronto. And their interest for
him culminated five months before his death. “ My
dear George,” he writes on May 22, 1923, “this
morning’s Piccolo says that you are Prime Minister
and I hope it is true. Please accept my warmest
congratulations. I always told you that I should
not be satisfied unless you were. I shall look
forward with great interest to all the things you are
going to do. I hope that one will be to make
Poincare suffer the fate of CaStlereagh.” When he
found that history had taken another course, it
was the last disappointment of his life. He told
Lord Curzon that he considered the King had
undertaken “ a serious, and even a dangerous,
responsibility, in helping to lay down the pre¬
cedent that a member of the House of Lords cannot
be Prime Minister. If the “ Die-hards ” had
anything to do with it they aimed a more serious
blow at the Upper House than anything in the
x 305

OSCAR BROWNING

Parliament Aft.” However, O. B. was not a
Christian Scientist and an optimist for nothing, and
he adds : “ I believe for myself, for reasons which
I will not enlarge upon, that Baldwin will not be
the success which people anticipate, that he will
have to resign and that you will be Prime Minister.
Of this I feel convinced, and then I shall sing
Nunc Dimittis.”

Death was waiting for him. It was immaterial
whether he continued to live or not. Indeed the
phrase had no meaning. Death was nothing, a
mere transition from one sphere to another, a
“ passing over.” Or Death was a jolly old fellow,
with whom he had long been on excellent terms.
And in the meantime, since he could not yet
experience what the other world was like, he would
get what he could out of the one in which he
happened to be. It was a fine thing to live in
Rome and be appreciated, to have dinners given in
his honour on his birthdays, “ a thing they never
did at Cambridge,” to add a thousand words a day
to his History, to be received with deference in
the salons of Roman princesses, to be accompanied
everywhere by a valet, “ who is noble and has a
coronet on his visiting cards.” Every day it is
borne in on him more and more that he is the most
important Englishman in Rome, “ and the respon¬
sibility is considerable.” He is on committees,
patriotic, religious, social. Sometimes he takes the
chair, as at the annual meeting of the British and
Foreign Bible Society, when he delivers a speech
on the Society’s activities in Italy. He is even made
Afting President of the British Academy of Arts,
and rules a Committee consisting of two Maltese
and an Anglo-Italian. They quarrel with him and
two resign. It is quite like old times. And when
the war is over, amongst the visitors who climb
the many flights to his flat in the Via Pietro Cavallini,

306

A * VIOLIN GENIUS ’

where in warm weather O. B. sits on the terrace
overlooking the Tiber, and from his “curule
chair,” one of the many presents from Lord Curzon,
talks of the things within his experience—amongst
these visitors are undergraduates from Oxford and
Cambridge. None give him more pleasure, even
if they do come, as he remarks, to view an interest¬
ing ruin, in the same spirit as they visit the Coliseum.

Long before he had made the delightful discovery
that youth Still took pleasure in his society, even as
he still liked young people about him. They
clustered round him like bees, as he said. One gets
a characteristic view of him one morning in the
winter of 1915, when he was nearly seventy-nine
years of age. In the middle of a letter to a friend
he suddenly breaks off in a sentence. He explains
why when he resumes: “ At this moment I went to
open the door for a boy of sixteen, a violin genius,
whom I am helping to get a firSt-rate violin educa¬
tion. I took him to the Professor’s for the first
time and have juSt returned half an hour later.”
Then he proceeds with his letter. Again he has
to break off. “ At this moment,” he continues
subsequently, “ the boy of sixteen (he is really
seventeen) came back from the Professor. I had
already given him five francs to buy some violin
Studies which the Professor had ordered for him,
and now he wanted me to type a letter for him in
Portuguese to his mother in Brazil. It took an
hour and a half. This philanthropy costs both
time and money.”

An old pupil, who was in Rome after the war,
remarks that his generosity and kindness of heart
remained unbounded, and, as is customary with the
truly generous character, the good deeds of the
past were soon forgotten. “When I reminded
him,” he continues, “ how he had defied con¬
vention by walking down King’s Parade with a

3°7

OSCAR BROWNING

naked bottle of port under each arm—a gift for an
invalid undergraduate—he refused to believe it.
It was sad, however, that at the end of his life
there were those around him who took advantage
of his goodness. Cherished possessions would
disappear in the most mysterious manner. One
day it was a favourite fountain pen. After a long
search I managed to buy its pair, but on my next
visit that too had gone. But O. B. never regarded
these continual disappearances as anything worse
than losses, and I am glad that he could not.”

So one day followed another, each filled with
innumerable occupations. Only on Sundays was the
routine broken. On that day he was in the habit
of attending the Anglican service at eleven in the
morning (at the “ High ” Church, not the “ Low,”
as he explained), of reading Christian Science from
two to three in the afternoon, and of going to the
Waldensian Church in the evening. Occasionally
he visited St. Peter’s on great festivals. “ The
might and majesty of the Roman Church ” never
failed to impress his imagination, and there is some
evidence that a year or two before he died he
considered joining it. But it was from Christian
Science that the inner light, which seemed to bum
more brightly as senescence set its mark of bodily
weaknesses upon him, drew its comforting radiance
and warmth. “ The root of my health and happi¬
ness,” he tells Lord Curzon some two years before
his death, “ is Christian Science. Not the healing
part, which I don’t care for, but the moral principles
and the rule of life. It is to me the essence of
Christianity. I read my Quarterly every morning
with bits of the Bible and of Mrs. Eddy. It cer¬
tainly makes me happy and I believe keeps me well.”
O. B. was no dweller in the tents of orthodoxy.

308

KING’S AND THE D.T.C.

IV

He had always been “ overwhelmed with
correspondence.” Now from his Roman retreat
he corresponded more indefatigably than ever.
King’s naturally remained his greatest interest, and
his fellow-dons seem to have faithfully answered
his many and none too legible letters. Sometimes
he felt that the College “ was not what it was.”
“ The dons,” he says in a letter to one of them,
“ are a low-minded lot and do not care for the
College as much as they care for themselves.”
But such views might easily change. Letters from
King’s undergraduates, or better a visit from one
or other of them, would make him more cheerful,
and he would write to the same person in a very
different Strain. “ I believe in the future of King’s.
It is a merry College, gay, go-ahead and ambitious,
with a passion for originality something in the
Style of Rupert Brooke. I have hopes.” He is
pleased to hear that throughout the war meetings
of the Political Society have been held at least once
a term, so that the “ apostolical succession ” has
been preserved. He is pleased also to think that
after his death his ashes will rest in King’s Chapel.
The very idea of the “ putrefying mass of corruption
which coffins contain ” has become hateful to him.
Nor does Armageddon, an expression by the way
that he deteSts, prevent him from exchanging bitter
letters about the Training College, made Stiff more
bitter from the threat that the pension he draws
from it may cease, owing to the war having dried
up the sources of supply. A. C. Benson, with
whom he communicates on this subjed, “ has
always admired his handling of life,” but he adds
that “an unprovoked and violent attack without
any knowledge of the fads of the case does not
evoke either sympathy or admiration.” And four

309

OSCAR BROWNING

months before his death O. B. feels constrained to
write a severe letter to the editor of the Cambridge
Review, which had published an article about him,
saying that it was the only one out of at least a
hundred which had given him pain, and that the
writer was neither a scholar nor a gentleman. He
pointed out that he kept up a close connexion
with Cambridge and often wrote for the Under¬
graduate papers, that he was one of the founders of
the Cambridge Review, that he had always supported
it, but that he should take care in the future that
no copy ever came under his notice. “I hope
this was not too severe,” he adds, after telling
another Fellow of King’s what he has done.

His letters in this last period of his life are a sort
of compendium of his whole career. Sir F. A.
Bosanquet, his friend since boyhood at Eton, one
of the few Still alive who address him as Oscar,
assures him that he is really as devoted to Eton as
he is himself, though O. B. pretends to be as cosmo¬
politan as Gibbon or Lord Afton. “ Yours,” he
adds, “ has been the distinguished career. My lot has
been to cultivate the auream mediocritatem .” “ What a
marvellous memory you have got for little things as
well as big,” writes the last Vice-ProvoSt of Eton.
“ Who could have imagined that W. D.’s doggerel
of some sixty years ago could have revived your
memories of my father’s shaving soap ? ” Dean
Inge thinks that he has every reason to feel con¬
tented in a “ tottering world in which the happiest,
next to the dead, are the aged and the childless.”
Bishop Welldon “ never forgets their old friend¬
ship.” Sir Walter Dumford, against whom the
bitterness of ten years before is now passing away,
hopes that he “ can save the College ” (the Training
College) “ which they both love.” Viscount Bryce
tells him that he is lucky in being able to see
Weltgeschichte from a point of detachment. Frederic

310

CORRESPONDENCE

Harrison, the only survivor amongst his con¬
temporaries of the eighteen-seventies who was his
senior, is able to congratulate him upon his zeSt,
his erudition and his industry.

He corresponds with Sir Oliver Lodge on
spiritualism and with Mr. Frank Harris on the
personal idiosyncrasies of Swinburne. With Mr.
H. G. Wells he takes up the cudgels for Napoleon.

“ I sent a copy of my Napoleon article to Wells,
and he said that it was admirably written and all
true. How he can say this after his account of
N. in his World History must be left to his con¬
science to decide.” Thus he comments to Lord
Curzon, who shows no desire either to attack or
defend O. B.’s hero. Letters that pass between
him and Mr. Belloc about the battle of Blenheim
excite calmer and more academic feelings. And
then there were many nephews and nieces, great-
nephews and great-nieces, to keep in touch with.
“ Dizzy was a blackguard,” he says to a nephew
whom he considered wanting in grace. “ Mind
you don’t become one.” “ Caro papa! ” begins
a letter from one of his spiritual children, who
signs himself “ voStro affezionatissimo e riconos-
cento figlio, Umberto Cialone.” “ Dear Old
Chummy,” commences one who had been a sailor
and signs himself “ Bert.” And occasionally he
had more auguSt correspondents. Thus he is able
to tell Lord Latymer what a “ charming letter ” he
has had from Queen Mary “ about her boy.” “ I
don’t wonder,” he says, “at her being proud of
him. I am sure that I am.” A letter from the
Pope is framed and hangs in his hall.

Certainly life was of absorbing interest, and not
least those questions of morals which lay at the
very basis of human relationship. The Loom of
Youth , which O. B. considered a book of genius,
enabled him to return to an old and favourite

3x1

OSCAR BROWNING

subjeft, and to discuss once more with those who
had worked with him at Eton the vices of ath¬
leticism and the failings of the public schools.
Toleration had come with age. Schoolmasters had
a heavy responsibility. “ Non est leve tot puerorum
observare manus oculosque in fine trementes,” he
writes to one who had made a scientific Study of
such questions. Nevertheless, the question was
one of immense difficulty. A year before he died,
O. B. records that he had juSt read a wonderful
book about the Northern Rhodesians, by his
friend the Reverend Edward Smith, “ who tells
you everything and very seldom has recourse to
Latin.” Depravity was not confined to men and
monkeys. A Student of sexual pathology had
assured him that every male animal wished to
indulge in auto-erotism and only refrained from the
difficulty of doing so. To legislate against homo¬
sexual practices was very often “ to sanftify and
hallow them.” There were things which laws
could not touch, and this was one of them. The
sanction for it must be left to each individual con¬
science. To the pure all things are pure. To the
good man there is no such thing as evil. He writes
a Latin poem which he sends to a friend :

Amor Improbus

Consors dierum, rex hominum potens,

Infe&us au&or sollicitudlnum,

Tu fons voluptatis, sed idem
Innumerabilium dolorum.

Seu pervicaci fronte superbias,

Seu pace cesses Ianguicfus improba,

Prsetendis ambages, pereruii

Node graves, Ereboque pressas.

Quis te resolvet ? quis propriam tibi
Dicabit aedem ? queis colet artibus ?

Seu thure divino literis,

Sive olidum patiaris haedum.

312

AMOR IMPROBUS

Sis forsan Orci veStibulum, igncas
Oftendis arccs, raderc nunc sinens
Extrema veStimenta, vultus
Olim alio reserabis sevo.

“ The meaning,” he explains, “ is very subtle,
but I expeCt you will understand it. It is super¬
ficially rather smutty, but intrinsically very religious
and spiritual. I think that it is very good, but
then I always think my own writings good.” If
Lord Latymer did not agree with him, he could
always agree with Lord Latymer in thinking English
society “ terrible ” and in castigating the poSt-war
Styles of dancing.

Y

The portrait is finished and Oscar Browning can
be left to such a portion of immortality as destiny
has reserved for him in this world. But across
these high lights of his Roman period there
lay a dark shadow. That enormous vitality which
was a part of his genius, which indeed was
his genius, remained his to the end. Yet in spite
of all his courage and philosophy, the cancer was
at the heart of the rose. Christian Science (his
Coue, as he described it to Lord Curzon) might
teach him to be happy; nevertheless even whilst
he repeated that he was happier than he had ever
been, the old unrest and dissatisfaction, which his
mother had warned him against at Eton, were there.
The ambitions of his life, he felt, had been un¬
realised, one thing after another had eluded him, and
now in his old age he was poor, lonely, disappointed.
In some degree he might be paying the penalty of
bachelorhood. But there was no reason why he
was Still plain Oscar Browning. In Rome, where
everyone had a title and “ marchesi were three a
penny,” he had none. “ By what title shall I call

3x3

OSCAR BROWNING

you?” the Princess Colonna had asked him, and
he had been obliged to reply, “ Professor,” though
really he had “ very slight claims to the appellation.”
The thing, however, might be remedied. If he
were knighted “ it would give great pleasure to
many people all over the world,” would lift him
out of the ruck and make young men feel that his
career was one which they might emulate. These
views he expressed to Lord Latymer, adding that
if he did not approve he would never think or
speak of them again. And when Lord Latymer
said that a knighthood would add nothing to his
distinction he dropped the subject.

At length, three months before his death, he
was, thanks to the Foreign Secretary’s good offices
with the Prime Minister, to be rewarded, in his
own words, “ with the first public honour which I
have ever received from my own country.” He
was created an Officer of the Order of the British
Empire, and the last letter which he ever wrote to
Lord Curzon, within five weeks of his death,
begins : “ My dear George, I received the decora¬
tion yesterday from Kennard, who is Charge
d’Affaires. He presented it with great dignity and
kindness. It is a splendid ornament in admirable
taSte.” And only those who knew O. B. will
realise that these lines were not written in irony.

Irony, that detestable literary artifice, had no
place in O. B.’s armoury, and though in his life¬
time he frequently excited the smiles which are its
concomitant and indeed enjoyed the laughter
himself, it should not be allowed to colour a
presentation of him now that he Stands as a his¬
torical figure, a man with great virtues and doubtless
with great faults, a great man nevertheless, and
with an unmistakable aura of genius about him.
Genius is an inexplicable thing, and I have no

3 X 4

THE NATURE OF HIS GENIUS

confidence that these pages have reproduced the
impression of it which O. B. indubitably con¬
veyed, no matter how difficult, or egotistical, or
vindictive he might appear to be on any particular
matter. If one grants that genius is some vital
force, generated by a peculiar sympathy between
the 'poles of the intellect and the physical con¬
stitution of the cells of the body, some particular
ratio between the grey matter of the brain and the
red corpuscles of the blood, then O. B. possessed
that eleCtric fluid, encompassed that unknown ratio
to which we owe everything that is greatest in
man, everything that is indeed humanity’s justifica¬
tion and hope.

O. B. has the lien on immortality of a great
teacher, but it is a lien which can only be Staked
out for him by the disciple, and the greatest teachers
of all are perhaps those whose disciples are un¬
aware of their debt. The paradox was a favourite
one of O. B.’s, and it is possibly another tribute to
his greatness that, with a few individual exceptions,
there has been no such recognition of the work he
accomplished as has been given to men cast in a
much smaller mould than he. And above all else,
above his work and achievement, or rather making
it the finest part of them, Oscar Browning
approached life with a magnificent elan and courage
which only a few can ever hope to comhxand. Yet
if the touch appeared sure, it was the result of will
and self-discipline. At the beginning of this book
I have related how gallantly he faced death in the
summer of 1923. He had pondered over the
enigma all his life, not a day had passed when he
had not prepared himself for the end that comes to
all. He professed to have no doubts that it was
no terminus, only an additional dimension, and that
the spirit would live all the more intensely after it

3H

OSCAR BROWNING

had escaped from its prison of the flesh. Still, so
long as he lived he had to deal with the life he
knew, and until a fortnight before his death, when
he was already suffering from a complication of ills
which showed only too plainly that the mechanism
of his body was worn out, he kept up entries in
the diary which Stretched back to a time before the
Crimean War, and kept up too his reading—the
laSt book to be mentioned being Faringtorfs Diary.
Yet he was a man, and it was only natural that he
should show a human fear at the plashing of the
dread Ferryman’s oars, which now echoed in his
ears. It might be a grand thing to die, but it was
also a fearful thing.

At length he grew so ill that it was evident the
end could not be far off. And on October 6th,
when he had been in bed for nearly three weeks,
he had reached the State of extreme exhaustion
which at his great age made any chance of recovery
hopeless. On that day, in the forenoon, all the
members of his “adopted” family, “Mama”
Antinori, her daughter Rosina, and her son Ettore,
were in his bedroom, to be present, maybe with that
Latin taSte for ceremonial, at the last moments, when
O. B. made signs to Ettore that he wished to speak
to him. Ettore leant over the bed, and O. B.,
who found difficulty in speaking, asked him if he
thought he was going to die. The young man
reassured him as one might reassure a child, saying
that he muSt not ask such questions but eat the
chicken broth they had prepared for his lunch and
get well again. O. B., apparently tranquil, said
no more. But a moment afterwards he signed to
the mother. She went to him, and then O. B.
with sudden energy, shaking his hands with im¬
patience and speaking in almost a normal voice,
said to her: “ Send that girl out of the room.”
“ Mama ” Antinori turned to obey his behest,

DEATH

Rosina retired and the mother returned to his
bedside.

But it was a Saturday morning and Saturn had
had his laSt “ go at him ”—Oscar Browning was
dead.

3i7

NOTE

I should like here to tecotd my thanks to the
many friends of Oscar Browning who have helped
me in what has been an agreeable labour. Mr.
Lowes Dickinson read through the foregoing pages
in MS. and purged them of some of their grosser
faults; for those that remain I am, of course,
entirely responsible.

Professor C. R. Fay has contributed the last
seCtion of Chapter XY, and others to whom I am
particularly indebted are Mr. Osbert Burdett, Mr.
N. Wedd, Mr. J. R. Eling Green, the Rev. O. R.
Vassall-Phillips, O.S.R., the Rev. B. Layer Hale-
Wortham, and Mr. A. B. Hyde, Gymnastic In¬
structor at Dulwich College.

318

APPENDIX I

BIBLIOGRAPHY

History and Politics :

The Netherlands of the Sixteenth Century : a Lefture delivered
at Eton College. Pp. 40. London, 1869. 8vo.

Modern England , 1820-1874. Pp. 73. London, 1876.
(Went into several editions and was finally brought
down to 1885.)

Modern France , 1814-1879. Pp. 125. London, 1880.
Stories from English Hiffory: the Newbery Historical
Readers Series, No. 1. London, 1882. 8vo.

The New Illustrated History of England . 4 vols. London,

1889-1890. 8vo.

The Life of 'Bartolomeo Colleoni of Anjou and Burgundy .

Pp. vii -j- 93. London, 1891. 4to.

The Flight to Varennes and other Essays; Pp. vii + 348.
London, 1892. 8vo.

Guelphs and Gbihellines ; a Short History of Mediaeval Italy
from 1250 to 1409. Pp. ix + 213. London, 1893.
8vo.

The Citizen, his Bights and Responsibilities . Pp. 233.
London, 1893. 8vo.

The Fall of Napoleon . Pp. viii + 327. London, 1907.
8vo.

Age of the Condottieri: a Short History of Mediaeval Italy
from 1409 to 1530. Pp. 275. London, 1895. 8vo.
Peter the Great . Pp. viii + 347. London, 1898. 8vo.
Charles XII of Sweden . Pp. xii + 368. London, 1899.
8vo.

A History of Europe in Outline , 1814-1848. Pp. 164.
London, 1901. 8vo.

Wars of the (Century and the Development of Military Science.

Pp. xxxvii + 538. London, 1901.

The Foreign Policy of Pitt to the Outbreak of the War with
France : Cambridge Modern History. 1904. 8vo.
Boyhood and Youth of Napoleon. Pp. 362. London, 1906.
8vo.

OSCAR BROWNING

A History of the Modem World, z vols. London, 1910.
8vo.

A General History of the World . Pp, x + 799. London,
1913. 8vo.

A Short History of Italy, 375-1915. Pp. 79 + viii. 1917.
8vo.

Prefaces, Editions of Historical Documents, etc.:

'Political Memoranda of Francis , Fifth Duke of Feeds . Edited
with notes by Oscar Browning. London, 1884. 4to.

The Despatches of Earl Gower , English Ambassador at Paris
from June 1790 to August 1792. Edited by Oscar
Browning. London, 1885, 8vo.

England and Napoleon in 1803 : being the Despatches of
Lord Whitworth and others. Edited by Oscar Brown¬
ing. London, 1887. 8vo.

The Journal of Sir George Rooke. Edited by Oscar Brown¬
ing. London, 1897. 8vo.

The State , by Woodrow Wilson. With an Introduction
by Oscar Browning. London, 1899. 8vo.

Napoleon’s Men and Methods, by Kielland. With a Preface
by Oscar Browning. London, 1907. 8vo.

Despatches from Paris , 1784-1790. Selected and edited
from the Foreign Office Correspondence by Oscar
Browning. 1909. 4to. (Camden Third Series.)

Historical Handbooks . Edited by Oscar Browning. Riving-

ton’s, 1783-1876. 8vo.

Education :

An Introduction to the History of Educational Theories. Pp.
x + 196. London. 1881. 8vo.

Prefaces, etc:

Milton’s Tractate on Education . With an Introduction and
Notes by Oscar Browning. The Pitt Press, 1883. 8vo.

J. F. Herbart: The Science of Education and the MSihetic
Revelation of the World. With a Preface by Oscar Brown¬
ing. London, 1892. 8vo.

An Introduction to Herbarfs Science of Education , by H. M.
and E. Felkin. With a Preface by Oscar Browning.
London, 1895. 8vo.

J. F. Herbart: Letters and Lectures on Education. With a
Preface by Oscar Browning. London, 1901. 8vo.

With S. S. Fletcher: General Editor of Macmillan’s
Manuals for Teachers. London, 1899, etc. 8vo,

320

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Belles Lettres :

Life and Writings of George Eliot. Pp. xiv + 174. London,
1887. 8 vo.

Goethe, his Life and Writings. Pp. viii + 144. London,
1891. 8vo.

Dante, his Life and Writings. Pp. vii + 104. London,
1893. 8vo.

R. Brownings Poe/ns (Selections). With an Introdu&ion
by Oscar Browning. London, 1897. 8vo.

R. Brownings Dramas . With an Introdu&ion by Oscar
• Browning. London, 1898. 8vo.

Impressions of Indian Travel . Pp. xvi + 236. London,
1903. 8vo.

Memories of Sixty Years. Pp. x -f 364. London, 1910.
8vo.

Memories of Later Years . Pp. 223. London, 1923. 8vo
Charles Vickery Hawkins , by W. E. Waddington and J. T
Inskip. With a Chapter by Oscar Browning. 1896.
8vo.

Classics :

Cornelius Nepos . With English Notes by Oscar Browning.
Oxford, 1868. 8vo.

APPENDIX II

THE POLITICAL SOCIETY

First Meeting held October 23, 1876, in Mr. Oscar
Browning’s Rooms, King’s College, Cambridge

PRESIDENTS OF THE SOCIETY

OSCAR BROWNING, 1876-1908
{Hon. President, 1908-1923)

J. H. CLAPHAM, 1908-

MEMBERS, 1876-1908

(Names printed in italics are those of deceased members.)

O. Browning (President)

E. B. Denison (Trinity)

B. H. Holland (Trinity)

Hon . A. Lyttelton (Trinity)

H. Stephen (Trinity)

R. T. Ritchie (Trinity)

R. H. Brown (Trinity)

E. H. Dean (Peterhouse)

C. Lupton (Trinity)

Hon. J. W. Mansfield

(Trinity)*

J. C. Tarver
Lord Colin Campbell
(Trinity)

F. G. Bury (Trinity)

F. T. T. Duka (Trinity Hall)

J. P. Whitney
H. Hodgkin (Jesus)

J. K. Stephen*

J. E. C WeUdon
J. M. Paulton (Trinity Hall)

* Secretary.
322

W. Crewdson

A. Strachey (Trinity Hall)
Hon. J. F. Wallop (Trinity)

R. Somervell*

A. Neville Rolfe (Trinity)
H. H. Harris
W. E. Willink -
W. Gore Browne (Trinity)
F. Gelderd (Jesus)

F. L. Cox (Trinity)

A. H. Thompson (Trinity)
H. L, Stephen (Trinity)

E. R. Christie (Christ’s)

L. J. Jones (Trinity)

G. Nugent Banks

S. J. C. Brinton (Trinity)

A. J. Oakley (Pembroke)

D. H. Battersby (Trinity)

T. M. Fowler
C. Strachey

H. Haines

THE POLITICAL SOCIETY

W. R. Sorley (Trinity)

Walter A. Raleigh*

F. S. C. Crane
C Ord

J. R. Tanner (St. John’s)

J. W. Graham

G. H Barclay (Trinity)

A. R.« Ropes

J. Austen Chamberlain
(Trinity)

H. * R. Rathbone (Trinity)

J. H. Stone

yL Macnamara (Trinity)

G. E. Green (St. John’s)

L. J. Maxse

C. R. Ashbee

G. L. Dickinson

A . Duffield (Trinity Hall)

P . J£ Sturge*

E. Jenks

Hon. L. R. Holland
J. F. Kendall
yL JJ. Studd

H. Vivian (Trinity)

G. Townsend-Warner (Jesus)*
A. B. Cane (Trinity)

J. P. Malleson (Trinity)

T. M. Evans
A. F. Fox

C. Somervell
W, /. Corbett *

J. H. Monk (Trinity)

E. R. /. Davies

(Trinity)

F. T. Galsworthy (Trinity)

D. F. Pennant (Trinity)

W. H. Moore*

G. H. F. Duncan (Trinity)

R. J. Wilkinson (Trinity)

W. D. Green

E. M. Kohnstamm (now
Konstam)

G. H. Duckworth (Trinity)
W. H. Buckler (Trinity)

M. M. Macnaghten (Trinity)

S, H. Barber

C. G. Todhunter
L. Currie (Trinity)

H. N. Ferrers*

E. L. R. Thornton

C. P. Trevelyan (Trinity)

T. A. Bertram (Caius)

J. M. E. McTaggart (Trinity)

F. R. Keightley (Corpus)

F. Wisden

E. A. Newton
C. V. Hawkins*

C. A. M. Barlow
A. G. Bather

J. W. Headlam
R. P. Mahaffy

H. J. Allen
J. H. Doncaster
H. C Windley
P. H. Dyke

F. W. B. Smart
W. R. Gurley
V* N. Gilbert

J. R. de M. Abbott
W. F. Reddaway*

T. H. B. Masterman (Non-
Coil.)

J. H. Clapham (President)*

J. T. Wardlaw
L. R. Holme (Jesus)

H. Clover
A. C. Chatterjee

E. C. E. Phipps

F. N. Mayers (St. John’s)

F. E. B. Duff

G. M. Trevelyan (Trinity)

J. C. Wrigley

D. S. Macdiarmid
F. Pritchard

R. Geikie

R. Hosgood

E. A. S. Watt

S, McDougall

E. W. Newmarch
A. F. Wedgwood (Trinity)

H. C. Gutteridge*

J. R. Lee (Trinity)

Secretary*

3 2 3

OSCAR BROWNING

A. C. Pigou

E. Milner-White*

A. M. Cohen

P. P. Dickinson

R. W. Seward

G. T. FitzGerald

Anthony Wilkin

K. M. Macmorran

G. B. Mumforcl

H. Joseph

R. H. Norton

C. M. Lewis

K. Lipikorn

C. E. Rickett

A . M. Gillespie

H. G. MarshaE

B. A. Spencer

C. K. Webster*

W. Healey

H. B. Spens

H- W. V. Temperley*

O. H. Burdett

E. A. Parry

F. V. Nanoarrow

R. Narayanan

J. G. Bennett

J. MacFarlane

C. A. Gordon

H. O. Meredith

H. S. Wilson

A. B. Gillett

K. Powell

G. H. M. Gray

R. W. B. Garrett

A. R. Kennedy

D. W. Corrie*

P. Powell

R. W. Coit

G. B. Smith

J. L. Deuchar

T. F. V. Prickard

K. H. Flintoff

E . L.

S. H. Smith

D. Davies

W. T. Lyon

H. M. Peacey

J. G Jolly*

M. L. Darling

H. S. Reitlinger

J. E. C. Flitch

P. M. Shand

C. C. Michaelides (after¬

F. A. Holt

wards C. Graham)

G. T. Corrie

N. Thornhill

A. G. Lias

T. Hamilton

N> Compton-Burnett *

G R. Fay*

R. H. WElcocks

G Seymour

E. J. Nathan

G. G. Russell

G. E. Toulmin

C. S. Phillips

J. B. Beresford

E. C. Wingfield-Stratford

H. L. Farnell

R. F. Truscott

C T. Swift

C. H. Goodall

During the war years, 1914-1918, the Society contained
the whole College, and was the only College society of any
kind.

* Secretary.

324

INDEX

Academy, the, 162
Acton, Lord, 263, 310
Ainger, A. C., 42, 85 sq., 144
Antinori, Ettore, 316
Arnold, Matthew, 261

Baldwin, the Rt. Hon. S., 314
Balfour, Earl, 263, 305

-the Rt. Hon. Gerald, 134,

181

Balston, Dr., 48 sq., 75, 131
Balzani, Count Ugo, 287
Bell, Mr. W. G., 283
Belloc, Mr. Hilaire, 311
Benson, Dr. (Archbishop of
Canterbury), 76, 88

-A. C., 3, 57, 65, 295, 309

Birmingham, Social Science Con¬
gress at, 203 sq.

Bismarck, 18
Blackie, Professor, 44, 45
" Bob/' 57

Bosanquet, Sir F. A., 20, 37,
38,3x0
Bowen, 47

Braboume, Edward Hugesson,
first Lord, 101, 108, 118,
138 sq., 148, 188

-- “ Ned/' Knatchbull-Hu-

gesson, second Lord, 118, 119
Bradshaw, Henry, 164, 174, 180,
188

Brandreth, W. B., 31
Brillat-SaVarin, 166
Brooke, Rupert, 171, 309
Browning, Arthur, 12, 26, 37
—— Malvina Georgiana, 64

-Margaret Mariana (O. B/s

mother), 13, 23, 64, 66, 129,
149, 152, 166, 190 sq., 219,
224, 250

-Oscar, passim ; see chapter

headings.

-William, 12, 13, 17, 36, 46

Bryce, Viscount, 109, 288
Burdett, Mr. Osbert, picture of
0 . B., 8

Bury, Professor J. B., 263

Butcher, S. H., 132
Butler, Dr. Montagu, 47, 148,
224, 227

Campbell-Bannerman, Sir Henry,
263

Carter, X. P., 129
Chamberlain, Sir Austen, 256,
304

-Joseph, 256, 257

Chapman, Bishop, 114
Christian Science, 7, 271, 308,
313

Churton, W. R., 37,160, 168, 175
Clarence, Duke of, 183, 219
Cobb, G. F., 241
Colchester, Lady, 31

-second Lord, 31

-Reginald, third Lord, 30

Coleridge, Chief Justice, 131,

235

Cornish, F., 38, 42, 181
County School at Cambridge,
the, 162

Creighton, Dr. M., 96
Cross, John, 193
Curzon, Marquess, 18, 58, 99 sq.,
154-5, 187, 191, 195, 263, 285,
296, 299 sq., 314

Daily News , the, 273
Daily Telegraph , the, 142
Daman, Henry, 130
Dannreuther, E. G., 62, 235 sq.
Day Training College (Cam¬
bridge), 200, 203, 207 sq., 265,
280, 296

Deffand, Mme. du, 261
Dent, Professor E. J., 171
Devas, Charles, 61
Dickinson, Mr. G. Lowes, 290
Disraeli (Lord Beaconsfield), 32,
257

Donaldson, S. A., 149
Dunmore, Lord, 32
Durnford, F, E., 129
Durnford, Sir W., 174, 281 sq.,
310

325

INDEX

" Eighty Club," the, 302
Eliot, George, 62, 80, 113, 153,
183, 192 sq., 254
Ellenborough, Lord, 31
Esperanto, 274
Evening News , the, 3
Eykyn, Roger, 255

Fabians, 46
Farrar, Dr., 42, 136
Fay, Professor C. R., 284 sq.
Fawcett, Henry, 256
Felsted Grammar School, 128
Fletcher, S. S. F., 213, 215
" Footlights," the, 182
Forster, W. E., 128
Freemasonry, 182, 183

Garrett, Dr., 240
Gladstone, W. E., 152
Glasgow, History Professorship
at, 224

Goldschmidt, Otto, 234
Goodford, Dr., 40, 42, 75, 83,
117, 152, 255

Gosselin, Le Marchant, 235, 237,
238

Governing Body of Eton, the,
92, 117, 121, 136-7, 141, 153
Grant-Duff, Sir M. E., 128
Grey, Viscount, 274
Grove, Sir George, 62, 237
Guardian, the, 76
Gull, Sir William, 91, 115

Hale, Edward, 96
Harris, Mr. Frank, 311
Harrison, Frederic, 131, 254
Hawtrey, Stephen, 27
Hayman (Head Master of Rugby
hool), Dr., 149
Hayne, Dr., 235, 236
Ilibbert, John, 88, 115
Hicks, G. G., 27

Hornby, J. J., 3, 4, 18, 43, 65,
76, 81, 155, 160, 187, 255

-Mrs., 73

Hugo, Victor, 286
Hyde, Mr. A. B., 244 sq.

Hymns Ancient and Modern,
172

Kaiser, the, 274
Kennard, H. W., 314
Keynes, Mr. J. M., 285
King Constantine, 228
King Edward VII., 29, 142
King George V., 258 , ~

James, C. C., 42, 71, 118, 121 sq.

-Dr. M. R., 264, 265

Jebb, Sir R., 38, 160, 161
Johnson, William, 21, 25, 28, 33,
42, 50, 70, 96, 131, 133
Jowett, Dr., 150, 226
Joynes, J. L., 114, 129, 142

Lane, John, 4

Latymer, Lord, 1, 57, 135, 232,
296, 301 sq., 311, 314
Leatham mi., 115
Leigh, Augustus Austen, 160,
167 sq., 173, 220, 264
Lightfoot, Bishop, 62
Lowry, Mi, C., 58
Lyttelton, Lord, 61, 120, 123,
127, 141, 145

-Alfred, 65, 124

-Rev. and Hon. E„ 18, 65,

134

Macaulay, Mr. W, H., 291
Macfarren, Sir G. A., 240 sq.
Macnaghten, Mr. Hugh, 4, 56,
291, 303

Mile, de Maupin , 59 sq. t 114
Maitland, F. W., 134
Marlborough, 18
Marshall, Professor Alfred, 290
Marriott, W. H., 71 sq.

Mason, Dr., 282, 283
Mayer, Mr. Daniel, 271
Mill, John Stuart, 38, 84, 254
Milton, 50

Morley, Viscount, 132
Morning Post, the, 142
Mozart, 3, 7, 35, 239
Mozley, H. W., 130
Music, 2, 35, 232 sq.

Napoleon, 232, 270, 273, 291,
301

Nixon, J., 173, 223

Okes, Dr., 160, 170 sq., 220
Owens College, 163

Pall Mall Gazette, the, 76
Parry, Sir Hubert, 233
Pater, Walter, 59, 60, 132, 150,
186, 262

Paton, W. R., 151
Paul, Kegan, 132
Pinchard, W. B., 27
Political Society, the, 163 and
Appendix II.

Portsmouth, Earl of, 91,133
326

INDEX

Prince Consort, 21, 29
Prothero, F. T. E., 32

-G. W., 160, 173, 174, 201,

220

Quick, R. H., 145, 202
Queen Margerita, 288
Queen Mary, 226, 258, 311

Ridding, Dr. (of Winchester),
255 *

Ross, Robert, 186, 222, 258
Royal Commission on Educa¬
tion (1886), 207

'---on the Public Schools,

52 sq., 75

Rugby school, 128
Ruskin, John, 45

St. Paul’s school, 162

Sauer, Emil, 188

Scarsdale, Lord, 105, 108, 112

Scholes, Mr. Percy, 232 1

Seeley, J. R., 164

Selwyn, Dr., 134

Sidgwick, Arthur, 45, 91, 113

-Henry, 38, 160 sq., 209,

220, 273

Skipton Grammar School, 163
Smith, the Rev. Edward, 3x2
Solomon, Simeon, 62
Somerset, Commander, R.N.,

244

Spectator , the, 128
Spinks, Mrs., 196
Spring-Rice, Sir Cecil, 58

-Sir Stephen, 61

Stanford, Sir C. V., 24a sq.
Stephen, Sir James Fitzjames,
59 sq., 105, 114, 125, 137, 143,
147

-J. K, 6, 58, 180, 181,

188

-Leslie, 60

-Miss, 185

Stone, E. D., 107, 187
Studds, the, 181

Sullivan, Sir Arthur, 234 sq.
Sunday Times , the, 303
Symonds, John Addington, 150,
197 , 261

Tennyson, Lord, 60, 221
Thackeray, St. John, 130
Thomas, Willie, 249
Thompson (Master of Trinity),
Dr., 191

Thomson, Sir J. J., 180
Thunderer , H.M.S., 142
Times, The, 91, 118, 141 sq.
Trench, Mr. A. C., 63
Trevelyan, Sir G. O., 38, 90,
221

*' U. U.,” the, 47, 80, 166

Vassall-Phillips, Rev. O. R., 66,
187

Wagner, R., reads Parsifal, 239
Wallop, the Hon. J., 58
Walpole, Spencer, 94, 149
Ward, Professor James, 209
Warre, Edmond, 18, 42 sq., 63,
68 sq. 73, 146, X50, 153 sq.,
171, 181, 285
Wayte, W., 103
Wedd, Mr. N., 9, 290
Welldon, Bishop J. E. C., 109,
134, 149, 152, 225
Wells, Mr. H. G., 311
Whitting, F., 185, 220
Wolley-Dod, C., 73, 99 sq., 116,
125, 155* 187
Wilde, Oscar, 185 sq., 219
Wilson, Mr. H. G., 2x0

-Woodrow, President, 260

Wintle, H. Gilbert, 130
Witt, John, 37
World, the, 218
Wylde, Dr. Henry, 240

Young, E. M., 47, 191
-Sir George, 131