John Bull's Schooldays

Sneak House

By SIMON RAVEN To"THERE is a widespread illusion that 'sneaking,' r the bearing of tales to those in authority, is unheard of in British public schools. This was certainly true in Tom Brown's day and was more or less true as recently as twenty years ago. It was true because the British were still a robust and independent race with their proper sense of laisser- faire as yet unspoiled. The advent of notions about Welfare and Social Responsibility has settled that —and settled it as surely in the adolescent world of the public school as it has everywhere else. To mind one's own business and leave others to mind theirs, formerly a simple matter of good manners, something any gentleman in school or out did without thinking, is quite definitely no longer the fashion; and it is interesting to note that it had already ceased to be so, at any rate at my own school, as early as the 1940s, although at this time the social virtue of prodnosing, while rapidly gaining recognition in the favourable conditions of war, was still at a fairly harmless stage of development. But of course even the most reactionary of educational institutions are more sensitive to social climate than is commonly allowed, and it is possible that the boys were almost unconsciously adopting the habit of tale- bearing as a preparation for and a protection against the new world into which they would emerge.

In any event, I reckon that I must have been at school at the very time when the traditional and honourable schoolboy custom of holding one's peace about the affairs of others was finally thrown on to the ethical scrap-heap. There is additional interest, for me, in the passing of this custom, since the school at which I was educated and so observed its passing is one of those mentioned, though with- out enthusiasm, as being conceivably suitable for the Prince of Wales. This school, I should add, is neither at Windsor nor in Scotland. It is one of the 'big six,' it had a fine reputation for classical scholarship in the nineteenth century (a reputation which, on the whole; it retains), but in general it is remarkable chiefly for solid adherence to the more Arnoldian of the middle-class virtues. It encourages the idea of service rather than that of intellect on the one hand or money-grubbing on the other: and indeed it might be taken as truly representative of the better-found schools which cater for the most reputable sections of the pro- fessional classes. I find it significant that it was such a school which first taught me that it was no longer thought dishonourable to carry tales. What follows is the manner of that teaching.

To start with, my House at this school was a `keen' House. We liked to win the House Football Cup and the Shield for efficiency at PT. We even took seriously the annual JTC competitions for drill and suchlike. Most Houses (credit where credit is due) were pretty cynical about the annual drill competition, but not (alas) my own. Now, the one thing you obviously can't have in a 'keen' House is 'slackness.' Everyone is meant to do PT, and a small caucus of people observed being slack at it can ruin your chances of winning the PT efficiency shield. And if you can't have slackness, neither can you have people making jokes or remarks which, even by implication, make light of the sterner virtues. Hence, towards the end of my second term, came my first reckonable lesson in the new values which the times were incubating. Having remarked to a friend at tea that the Chinese had once been a civilised people with a low opinion of military qualities, I was summoned, later in the evening, by the Head of the House. It seemed that my remark had been overheard by a boy called Cave-Watkins who was my senior by just two terms. He had immediately reported this instance of my 'unsatisfactory' attitude. The Head of the House did not take the line, which at that time (1942) would have been reasonable enough, that small boys enjoying a first-class education in the middle of a world war would do well not to belittle their protectors : he insisted, instead, that the tone of my remark was unsuitable for a House which, by its spirit of conformity, co-operation and enthusiasm, had won the distinction of amassing more cups and having a more healthY atmosphere than any other House in the school.

`Remember, Raven,' he said, 'that such an atmosphere is easily poisoned by the least hint of disaffection or cynicism. If you must pick tiP unhealthy ideas, then keep them to yourself.' I found this point of view both juvenile and yet obscurely frightening, but at least it was con- sistent with the character and aims of the Head Monitor. What was still a mystery, however, was the point of view of the boy who had actuallY reported me. As I say, he was only two terms senior to myself and held no official position whatever.

`What do you mean, Cave-Watkins,' I said when I found him, `by going off and sneaking like that? Why couldn't you mind your own business?'

`We don't use the word "sneaking,"' Cave- Watkins said, 'we talk about "showing up." And It was my business. The good of the House is everybody's business.'

And he then began to explain the new philosophy. 'Showing up,' he said, was a permis- sible practice, much encouraged by masters and older boys, when there was any question at all of it being one's duty or responsibility to speak out. In the bad old days, nothing short of murder would have elicited a word from anyone. And just look at all the bullying and 'immorality' and slacking there had been. But nowadays everyone knew better. Anything said or done that raised a moral issue, however piddling or remote, or that touched upon the tone or efficiency of the House, was suitable material for retailing to the authori- ties. This applied, he went on, not only to bad things but to good ones : evidence of the proper spirit was conveyed, no less surely (though per- haps with less immediacy) than news of slackness or moral decay, to the ever-open ears of the Head Monitor. A good Head Monitor, he explained, had no time even to do his school work, because he devoted his entire evenings to listening to the endless reports of boys like Cave-Watkins about the characters of their contemporaries. This hap- pened at every stage of seniority; and even Moni- tors would drop into the Head Monitor's study for three hours or so to complain about the other Monitors. Every member of the House was expected to do his duty in this way. If 1 myself, for example, was `to get anywhere at all' in the local hierarchy, I must soon start taking in my own reports. 1 need not wait to be summoned. I should just go along and knock on the Head Monitor's door and announce that I would like `to talk to him' for a while. In the unlikely event of no one else being there and talking already, I should be welcomed—particularly so if I brought news of disloyalty to the House or some sexual irregularity.

As far as I could make out, even failure on someone's part to wash in the morning should be reported instantly. Anything should be retailed which related to the moral state of the House— and that, by current standards, seemed to meat* anything at all. The whole place was a midden of priggishness and betrayal. Incredulous and ap- palled, I retired to think the position over. It, simply could not be true. This wasn't the Vatican. Cave-Watkins must surely be exaggerating : he was saying that such behaviour was general in order to excuse his own brand of ambitious malice. Or again, this was the end of the term : perhaps he was overwrought by excitement at the prospect of the holidays, or was suffering under the strain of a strenuous term; for life in our House was nothing if not intense, and very apt to induce an occasional sense, of nightmare. By the end of the holidays, I thought, both Cave- Watkins and myself would have forgotten his every word.

But the truth of what had been told me was made only too plain by two incidents which occurred the following summer. Both incidents involved exact contemporaries of my own : both clearly indicated that these boys, likeable, I had thought, and intelligent, were already firmly com- mitted to the course of life which Cave-Watkins had described, with such vile relish, as normal.

Chancing one day to be watching a cricket match, I was approached, by a boy called Fisch: 'Matron,' said Fisch, 'has asked me to tell you that your hair is too long and you must get it cut.'

'Tell Matron,' I said, 'that I like it long and she can mind her own bloody business.'

And that, apparently, was what he did tell Matron—verbatim. A summons from the Head Monitor followed fast.

'What's this about you telling Matron to mind her own bloody business? She's complained.' I explained the circumstances.

'It never occurred to me,' I said, 'that Fisch would even dream of reporting my remark back to Matron,' 'But,' said the Head Monitor, 'he was very properly showing -you up to Matron for taking an insolent tone behind her back.'

'I suppose you could look at it like that.'

`Any responsible person looks at it like that. . . • I shall beat you this evening.'

So I received four strokes of the cane, which 1 didn't care for, and a severe reminder, which I cared for even less, of what Cave-Watkins had told me the previous term. This reminder was the more sharp as Fisch was shortly afterwards appointed to some rudimentary office which carried authority over the first-year boys. He had scored some valuable points by reporting me and was now getting his reward.

The second. incident was, if anything, even more distasteful. There was that term a school produc- tion of As You Like It. I myself and some con- temporaries were in the cast, which was taken to see the play performed by professionals in a town some forty miles away. After the perfor- mance we were allowed to go off on our own for tea, being firmly bidden to reassemble at the .' station by six. With Murray and Sale, two boys of my own standing, I went off to a cafe in the town.

'A good opportunity,' said Sale, 'now we're this far from school, if anyone wants to smoke.'

Whereupon Murray produced a packet • of cigarettes. Sale declined the offer of one : Murray and I lit up.

The moment we sot home, Sale rushed to tell the 1-lead MonitOr what had occurred. Murr4 and I Were roundly dressed down for abusing the privilege of being allowed away for the day, and then of course beaten. Sale was commended, and more or less overtly assured of future favour. Once again, good points had been scored by some- body. who was, this time, not only an informer but also an agent provocateur. I recall with pleasure that later on. Murray and I, bowling in a net where Sale was batting, sent down fast •bumpers at his legs for a quarter of an hour on end. Since even• he could scarcely report this, we were well re- venged by the terror and pain we caused him. But that was not the point. The point was that a fourteen-year-old contemporary had deliberately reported us for the foolish but harmless activity of smoking, urging responsibility as his official motive, receiving approbation for his undoubted treachery.

So there it is, It is not my intention to explain in detail how such phenomena came to be possible in circumstances in which, even five years pre- viously, they would have excited unmixed loath- ing. I can only observe, as I did at the beginning of this lament, that all this was probably the instinc- tive response of schoolboys to an outer world in which motives of envy, interference and self- righteousness were becoming daily more rancorous and dominant. However this may be, the plain truth is that what I have here described is the system which, I am most definitely assured, still does obtain, The old Tom Merry standards of rough and ready honour, shallow and vulnerable as they might have been, left no one in doubt where he stood. He could do more or less what he wanted so long as he didn't start whining about the wickedness of others. But the code of Tom Merry is as dead as the laws of Solon; and school life is ever more insistently punctuated by the self- congratulatory whimpers of morally outraged pubescence.

Of course, I may be exaggerating. I doubt it. For take heed of this. There was a custom, tolerated even in my time, whereby Monitors of r the various Houses would visit each other, on the last night of the school year, to drink and smoke together, a pleasing celebration for those who would return, a poignant yet gay occasion for those who would not. A touching little custom? Generous and appropriate? So it was thought in my time, and for a long time afterwards. But I an told that a young and progressive Headmaster noW details several ushers, at the end of the school year, to patrol the grounds and Houses, to inter- rupt and report any festivities they may uncover. How enthusiastic they are in their task, I do not know; but their mere appointment to so dismal all. errand says all that is needed. No, they don't call it 'sneaking' any more : they 'show each other Or