I have been asked by the Editor to jot down a few memories of these years in the School. Although one of the oldest survivors of those days, I have had the advantage of help from our Patriarch, Father Paulinus Hickey, whose experience of the old house is longer than mine. It is not an altogether pleasant task to stir the embers of early and distant recollections. As the poet says : 'So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.' We are recalling many happy days that can never return, we are reviving regrets for dear friends that we shall never see again on earth, and of hopes and anticipations that were doomed to disappointment. Still, there is a sober joy in dwelling even on past trials and sorrows, whose sharp edges have been dulled by the passage of time. There are no stirring events to chronicle, no history in the proper sense, but if the reader is content with the impressions of a schoolboy produced by the manners and customs of those times, trivial and unimportant as they must be, he is welcome to the following pages.
I came to Ampleforth on the Feast of the Assumption, 1860; Fr Wilfrid Cooper was the Prior and Fr Wilfrid Brown the Prefect. At the end of the holidays, one who is happily still with us, Abbot Cummins, then plain John Cummins, also joined the School and the same class. Coming as I did from another school, I was particularly alive to comparison-making. I came from Woolhampton, where the tone was decidedly low, to Ampleforth, where a spirit of piety prevailed. I had been under lay masters whom it was difficult to obey, and still more difficult to respect, to find myself under the paternal care of religious men, whose sympathy obedience and austerity was most edifying. At Woolhampton the management was thrifty, not to say stingy; at Ampleforth although the fare was very simple there was no stint of food. It is no wonder, then, that the new boy soon realised that he had come to a haven of rest and regretted that the opportunity offered of coming sooner had not been accepted. And yet the accommodation in the old house was of the scantiest. The present science room was our Study Place and accommodated comfortably the 50 or 60 boys of whom the School consisted. The present Bath room was our Play room, with a range of lockers for each boy's belongings; a coke stove commonly called the "flue" stood in the middle surrounded by a ring of benches. And that was the full extent of the indoor accommodation. Still, we were a very happy family, far happier, I should say, than when we removed into spacious halls of the New College. We took a very optimistic view of our surroundings. In blissful ignorance of other Catholic schools, we regarded Ampleforth as the premier school in England, we scorned the notion that any other school could hold a candle to Ampleforth. We looked on our masters as the finest set of teachers that any school could boast of. Every little custom or tradition was clothed with sanctity and cherished with the utmost reverence, even the uncouth melodies handed down by memory that served for the Plain Chant. And how we delighted in the Church services! They were very simple then ; High Vespers and Benediction were given only on great Feasts, for the ordinary Sunday Vespers were sung at 3 p.m. and nothing more. But I doubt if the ornate ceremonial of modern days is able to produce the same delight and devotion that the meagre ritual of those days stirred up in our boyish hearts. We looked forward eagerly to the Midnight Mass of Christmas with the Lauds sung, the Holy Week, the Dirges and Professions at which we were privileged to be present. In remembrance of those liturgical services, however restricted, cast a strong spell over youthful minds that can never be forgotten.
One cannot speak too highly of the moral tone of the School at that time. It was a new experience to find oneself in the midst of spirited boys and never to hear a foul expression. It was very remarkable also that not a word of grumbling or discontent against the place was ever heard; as Tom Swale, an old boy, used to say: " We could hang a pleasant recollection on every thorn in the fields." Every fortnight practically the whole of the boys frequented the Sacraments, and in those days such a practice denoted great piety. And|yet judged by modern standards it was an austere life. We rose at 5.30, we had only bread and milk for breakfast and supper, no sweets or tarts except on Sundays and Feast days, save on special occasions when some kind friend treated the School to 4 common " butter ; " common " not in the sense of vulgaris but of communis. But a red letter day occurred on the very great feasts when the fare was "coffee, buns and butter," which youthful appetites much appreciated. During the period described we were not allowed to bathe in Fairfax's pond ; in summer it was necessary to take a good two miles tramp to some pools in the river Rye, and the return journey took away all the pleasure and refreshment of the dip. It may be as well to record that we were never allowed the luxury of a hot bath; we regularly washed both feet and head, but not the rest of the body. Let not the fastidious wrinkle their brows and pass scornful remarks, let them remember that " Habit is a second nature." Twice a year we had theatricals. In the narrow space of the old study we managed to put up our " little O " on which we attempted Shakespeare, Otway, some very primitive operettas and screaming farces. I doubt if any audiences enjoyed themselves more heartily than we did in the simple efforts of those days. And the school was exceedingly healthy, infectious diseases were absolutely unknown. Br Benet, " The Quack," as he was affectionately known, was equal to all the minor complaints. The doctor from Helmsley, Dr Ness, Pallida Mors was his soubriquet, was only called in for cases of accident. One curious old custom was observed in the old house but did not long survive. On the Feast of St John Chrysostom every boy who could conjugate the Greek verb Tfcrrw without a mistake was allowed a long sleep and play during the day, while the others were at study.
In the meantime the New College walls were rising rapidly. We were looking forward eagerly to the day when we might enjoy the princely accommodation, as it seemed, that was being prepared for us, thus unconsciously " with our own happiness at strife," for we did not altogether realise the pleasant times that the old house had provided. For it must be admitted that with the opening of the New College, a fresh chapter in the history of Ampleforth was started. For better or worse.
The optimism was passing away with the old buildings. It was a Patriarchal system that was bound to be dissolved, conditions almost idyllic could hardly continue and the school both physically and morally entered into a larger sphere. It was inevitable that the simple joys of a family life could hardly be maintained in the ample surroundings of the new buildings. In 1861 the development of Ampleforth reached a stage which was to lead to the greater expansion of the future. But it is impossible not to look back with regret to the days " so full of joys, so free of fears " that were characteristics of the old school.
The outstanding personality in the government of the school in those days was Fr. Michael Wilfrid Brown. A man of spare figure, of austere mien and of inflexible will, he ruled the school with a rod of iron. Austere himself he exacted austerities from others, and it seemed to be his aim to make the school a preparation for the Novitiate. His Prefectship would have been intolerable, but for his very edifying life. His addresses on Sunday mornings in tJtie study produced the strongest impression, coming as they did from one who was deeply versed in the spiritual life, and they laid the foundation of more than one monastic vocation.
One morning as he was giving us spiritual reading he had selected the Meditations of Sister C. Emmerich on the 'Dolorous Passion' ; he burst into tears and broke down ; the reading was abruptly closed. After we entered the New College there was a falling off of the discipline of previous days and the severity of his rule increased. When he rose to denounce some serious infringement of rules, his dark brown eyes seemed literally to flash fire, which cowed the most rebellious. But his spiritual influence was so great that the boys yielded a reluctant and surly acquiescence to his unbending methods. After about four years in the office, it would appear as if the authorities felt that his Spartan severity was carried a little too far, and Fr. Wilfrid was removed to make way for Fr. Cuthbert (Hedley). But Fr. Cuthbert's easy and indulgent rule was a great reaction from his predecessor's Draconian methods, and the boys were not slow in detecting the slack rein, and many to their shame, it must be said, took advantage of the milder regime to abuse their liberty. But Fr. Cuthbert's Prefectship did not last long, he had been in office about three months when to the great grief and consternation of the establishment he was ordered to go to Belmont; he left Ampleforth in November, 1862. The anxiety of the boys as to his successor was intense, they were hoping that as Fr. Wilfrid had been once removed, he could hardly be reappointed. But Fr. Wilfrid did return and this return produced a gloom and depression which hung over the whole school at work or play, a demonstration evident to the whole establishment, and above all to the returning Prefect. Then followed a reign of terror, punishments were multiplied, play days stopped, public penances imposed until the tension was stretched almost to breaking point. The least accident would have plunged the school in a blaze of rebellion. It says much for the masterful personality of Fr. Wilfrid that he boldly faced each crisis with his presence and the boys cowed under his look. He was still in office when I left for Belmont in 1865. It is only fair to add that in after life Fr. Brown did not hesitate to confess that he had been mistaken in his methods and that had he to begin again he would have handled the school very differently.
The play room in the New College was modelled on the plan that was familiar to generations of Amplefordians in the old house. It was de rigueur that a series of lockers for each boy should be attached to the walls and that a coke stove, commonly called 'the flue', should be placed in the middle surrounded by a ring of benches. In theory it was expected that the boys would sit in the ring and thus allow a large number to share the heat. In practice it came about that the bigger ones monopolized the flue and the younger had to be content to sit on the hot water pipes. The only time that the ring fulfilled its real function occurred when the Prefect would descend into the play room, gather the boys on the ring and entertain them with some thrilling story, such as the exploits of The Last of the Mohicans or the adventures of Quentin Durzaard. On such occasions all the noisy games were hushed and the ring crowded with eager listeners. When the stove was being installed in the New College we were surprised to find that no flue pipe was provided to take off the smoke and fumes. We were told that the smoke would descend, pass under the floor and join the big chimney stack. We were all very incredulous at the time and never heard of smoke flues passing under a fire. But as a matter of fact the smoke behaved as had been arranged and our forecasts were falsified.
The play room has suffered perhaps from more transformations than any other room in the College. At first it served as a rather noisy indoor recreation place for those who had no taste for reading, and who needed an outlet for their animal spirits. But about 1880 the Prefect, Fr. Oswald Smith, collected a large sum to provide a good gymnasium for the school and converted the play room for the purpose. The old ring and flue were removed, huge baulks of timber were let into the floor and the whole space was occupied with every kind of gymnastic appliance. During Abbot Burge's Priorship in 1885 the gymnasium was removed into the passage with the object of providing a ''Library for the Middle School. The stone flags were covered with linoleum and the Ampleforth Society provided some handsome book cases which took the place of the old play room boxes. A curious accident followed. It was noticed that the linoleum began to give way in places, and on examination it was found that the thick baulks of timber had crumbled to duot under the action of dry rot; the linoleum had closed up all ventilation.
This used to be regarded as the show room of the College, and the architect, Mr. Joseph Hansom, was deservedly proud of the design. An official, styled Vigilarius, elected by the members, was responsible for order and quiet and was empowered to fine offenders. At first the Library was furnished with very picturesque but uncomfortable Gothic chairs, but as these proved handy weapons for rough play in the absence of the Vigilarius they soon disappeared. At one time some very remarkable Chinese paintings were hung on the walls, which were supposed to be of real value, but these also disappeared, the victims of boyish bump of destruction.
For many years the idea prevailed in all our Catholic schools that nothing but the roughest furniture should be provided for our boys who were supposed to be endowed with an instinct to smash and break up everything in their way. But in 1880, the then Hon. and Rev. W. Petre opened a new school at Woburn Park in which the boys were housed in comfortable and artistic surroundings. In a series of pamphlets he attacked the old principles of the Catholic schools and maintained that the proverbial boorishness of many of our schools arose from the wretched furniture provided which invited destructive tendencies. He claimed that elegant and artistic surroundings refined the boyish taste and tended to encourage a respect for valuable property*. It was amusing to note how quickly the Catholic colleges admitted the value of this new idea and how they began to set their house in order. From that time forth they started to vie with each other in equipping their schools with elegant and even luxurious furniture. The first effect of the reform at Ampleforth was seen in a new and expensive carpet that was laid on the floor of the big Library, and finally the conversion into an Art Gallery of that passage which used to be the scene of roughest play, even of football.
It has often been asked what is the meaning of the door in the stone steps that overhang one corner of the Library. The architect explained to us that he proposed at some future date to erect a gallery round the walls to serve as a boys' Museum, and the door in question was intended to give access to this gallery. But the idea was never carried out, and the door remains as evidence of things that might have been.