From Rev T.D. Dalton’s House Debate Book 1882-1883 (SCH HOUS 03 TD 04)
Arguments against:
‘The Opener spoke gaily as follows:
Mr President and Gentlemen, the side of the question that I propose to take is certainly the popular one, as very few people at present think vegetarianism a good thing, and when Public Opinion is so decided it is generally right.’
‘God gave us beasts to eat.’
Meat equals masculine:
‘Maximinus, an emperor noted for his size and strength ate forty pounds of meat a day.’
‘Roman gladiators attained their huge strength by a diet of raw meat.’
‘Milo the athlete, once killed an ox with one blow, and then ate it at one sitting.’
‘Labourers who worked on railways formed ‘Butty-gangs’. They did surprising amounts of work and ate an enormous amount of meat.’
Vegetables would make us weak:
‘Horace was a vegetarian when poor and when he was sent to war and entrusted with the command of a legion, he fled ignominiously.’
‘Farmers would be ruined.’
Human teeth are designed to eat meat: ‘Vegetarians argue our teeth are unlike that of a carnivore and therefore were never intended to eat so much meat. This argument is hypothetical and entirely based on science.’
What would happen to the cattle if they are not eaten? They would multiply and overrun the country.
‘Vegetarians loose taste for food and then will over eat and drink.’
Arguments for:
The opposition:
‘I think there is a good deal to be said on behalf of the vegetarian and I can’t see why it should be so much abused.’
‘Vegetarians think it is not right to kill an innocent dumb animal, who never did one any harm… If you only consider the feelings of the poor beasts… but as it is very seldom, if ever, you think about the suffering of the poor beast, when you are easting a slice of mutton or a beef steak.’
‘The trade of ‘Butchers’ is most horribly degrading… The smell and sight of a butcher’s shop is most disagreeable’
‘If animals were not kept for eating you might say that they would soon die out, but there is no proof of this, as sheep would be wanted for the sake of their wool; and oxen would be wanted for the sake of their skins, when dead and while they were alive their services would be used for ploughing.’
Vegetables give bodily strength:
As recounted in Mr Joynes’ Adventures of a Tourist in Ireland (1882)*: ‘Mr Joynes, in his journey back from Ireland, must have felt great confidence in his strength, when he seized the stronger of the two men who were fighting in the same railway compartment that he was in.’
Pythagoras, A Greek philosopher, was the first person who thought it right to abstain from the flesh of animals. Milo the athlete (as mentioned in the Opener’s speech) was a follower of Pythagoras and therefore must have also been a vegetarian.
‘Growing vegetables will employ lots of people.’
‘Why are so few doctors vegetarian? Reason is prejudice and doctors like to keep to their old ideas.’
‘There is the argument that Vegetarians shouldn’t drink water because of the tiny microscopic bacteria, however there is no proof they are killed.’
Vegetarianism was mainly advocated in the Victorian period in relation to class. The most successful advocates of the lifestyle approached from a money-saving angle:
‘The lower classes could live on a shilling a week and have more comfortable homes and would not so often be in want… Vegetables are not as nutritious as meat, however the average income is £34 a year for lower classes. 1d of peas is much more nutritious than 1d of meat.’
Results of the debate: all votes were resolutely for the Opener, that Vegetarianism was indeed a very bad thing.
*Notes on Vegetarianism at Eton.
Information from Eton Renewed by Tim Card.
In 1915 Head Master Edward Lyttleton preached caution in condemning the whole German nation at this time of conflict. The response from the papers was highly critical. One mother wrote in to deny the influence of Lyttleton’s ideas on Eton boys. She wrote that Etonians would never be German sympathisers, vegetarians, ‘nor any other silly fad’.
Of course, this statement was incorrect. In regards to Vegetarianism, there have been (and will continue to be) vegetarians at Eton.
Two of note, were King Scholars, Henry Shakespear Stephens Salt (at Eton 1866-1871) and James Leigh Joynes (at Eton 1864-1871).
Salt and Joynes returned to Eton as assistant masters after finishing at King’s College, Cambridge. Their presence provided diversity of thought at Eton. However, their vegetarianism, combined with their views on the country’s political economy, meant they were regarded with great suspicion as freethinkers and radicals. Salt also held strong views about education (such as opposition to corporal punishment). Shortly after their arrival, Vegetarianism was a frequent subject for house debates and continued to be for decades after.
Joynes’ time at Eton came to an end when he attracted media attention after an incident in Ireland where he was wrongly arrested as a conspirator. He wrote a comical account of his travels: Adventures of a Tourist in Ireland. Head Master, James John Hornby told him that he must choose between his mastership and the book. He accordingly resigned and published in 1882.
Salt did not follow at once, but when Hornby was replaced by Edmond Warre and Salt foresaw no progressive change in the character of Eton, he too resigned. He later wrote that Eton masters were “cannibals in cap and gown – almost literally cannibals, as devouring the flesh and blood of animals … and indirectly cannibals, as living by the sweat and toil of the classes that do the hard work of the world”.
Photograph courtesy of the Eton Photographic Archive (PA-A.142:48-2014)
Photograph courtesy of the Eton Photographic Archive (PA-A.142:48-2014)
“It was Mr Salt’s book A Plea for Vegetarianism which showed me why… it was right to be vegetarian.” – Mahatma Gandhi
The Collections team at Eton organised a ‘Challenge day’ with local primary schools around the area. We looked at some items from the Library and Archives and thought about travel and adventure! I lead a session on passports, including a passport from 1865 allowing Mr Richard Durnford to travel to Dresden.
Very little information was included about the bearer of this passport. Only the nationality, name and signature would identify him. Passports at this time were usually only valid for a single journey and would state the destination of the traveller.
It was signed by the Principal Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, who we would now call the Foreign Secretary. Previously all passports would have been issued and signed by the King and Queen. This shows how few passports were issued if only one person of authority was required to sign them.
My first experience in an archive was when I volunteered at Sedbergh School Heritage Centre for six months.
Sedbergh School Library on a cloudy day.
I was interested to see the collections and how conditions varied between the items. I learn a lot about basic conservation and preventative measures. Here are a collection of images:
The earlier registers at Eton (up to 1792) record only the Kings Scholars who attended. For this exact reason, I often regrettably have to confess I can’t find someone in the register, however that does not mean they didn’t attend.
However, I stumbled across an index at the back of the 1753-1790 register, which ordered Old Etonians by their profession. Of course there were many lawyers, doctors, scientists. However, one particularly stood out. ‘Murderer’.
This led me to discover the very interesting character of George Fitzgerald.
George was born around 1748, the son of a notorious rake and magistrate also named George, and Lady Mary Hervey [1]. Both his parents were noble-born, with George the elder coming from the famous Desmond branch of the Fitzgeralds, while Lady Mary’s three brothers each held the title of Earl of Bristol (the first two dying without sons). [1] It was not a happy marriage however, with George’s father openly flouting his mistress, and the two separated some time around 1750. Lady Mary took George and his younger brother Charles to England, where they attended Eton. George joined the army at the age of seventeen, reportedly having fought his first duel the year before. He was part of the 69th regiment, which was stationed in Ireland, and fought several duels with both locals and with his fellow officers. In one of these (allegedly fought over a woman) he was shot in the head and nearly killed, and only a swift trepanation saved his life. It’s possible that this brain injury may explain his aggressiveness later in life. His father was annoyed enough at the incident to cut him out of his will.
George was left scarred but by no means unattractive. Though he was beneath average height for the time, and fairly slight of build, he did always impress those he met with his graceful bearing, and even those who hated him admitted “a more polished and elegant gentleman could not anywhere be met with”. In 1770 he married Jane Connolly, daughter of an Irish politician. The marriage came with a £30,000 dowry – a fantastic sum at the time. This led to an appeal for help from his father, who was in financial difficulties, and for the sum of £10,000 it was agreed that his father would pay him £1000 a year for life, and also reverse the disinheritance. After his wedding George resigned his commission in the army and moved to France, where within a year he had lost all of the remaining £20,000 gambling. Jane went back to England, while George stayed on in Paris for a while. Eventually, however, his blatant refusal to repay his gambling debts caught up with him, and the Count d’Artois (the future King Charles X of France) had him thrown out of a gambling hall. This effectively destroyed him in Parisian society – ironically the only remedy would have been to challenge Charles to a duel, but no mere commoner could presume to challenge a prince. Instead, he was forced to leave the country.
In England, however, the ignominy inflicted on him by the prince was barely considered, while his mother’s good family and his own dashing reputation stood him in good stead at first. However once again a gambling debt was to ruin his standing – this time one owed to him by a young Lieutenant Walker. The debt was bought off for a lesser amount by Walker’s guardians, but George continued to hound the young man, eventually forcing him into a duel at Ascot racecourse. Walker fired first and missed, and George then proceeded to spend a long time humiliating him by pretending to fix a flaw in his pistol, offering a mocking apology, and reiterating his financial demands before finally shooting the young man in the shoulder. The resulting disapproval forced him to quit the London scene, and try a return to France as a horse trader, which again was terminated by a duel. This was with a Major named Baggs, a former comrade from the 69th. Baggs ran a gambling house, and the two fell out over the matter of the commission owed to George for steering a naive young nobleman into Baggs’ clutches. The two fought their duel outside the city, over the border into Austria, as they had been forbidden from duelling in France. The duel was a far from honourable affair – Fitzgerald used his favourite trick of lunging forward with his arm extended to present a smaller target, while Baggs, despite his leg being broken by George’s first shot, charged the other man and fired his second pistol. Neither was killed, but both were left with permanent limps.
George found France too hot to hold him after the Baggs affair, and moved to Dublin in 1775. It was here that his eccentricity and mania for duelling began to take full hold. He would knock the wigs off strangers in the street to force them to challenge him, or stand in the middle of the pathway so that one had to step into the mud to get around him, or jostle him out of the way (immediately being challenged for the insult). The most bizarre thing he did was to adopt a pet bear, and take it everywhere with him, with mistreatment or mockery of the bear being, of course, grounds for a duel. [2] The number of duels he fought in became so great that it would be quicker to simply add the line “and he fought a duel against Fighting Fitzgerald” to every notable Dublin man of the time’s biography, and one would be right more often than not. One story of the time has Fitzgerald fighting a sword duel in St Stephen’s Green in the middle of the day, to the consternation of onlookers. Some called for them to be parted, but the consensus opinion was “let them fight it out; one will probably be killed, and the other hanged for the murder, and society will get rid of two pests.” In fact, neither man was killed though one (it is not recorded which) suffered a wound that left him unable to sit down for a week. In fact, Fitzgerald seems to have avoided killing his opponents, whether through luck or through the knowledge that his known temperament would see him treated severely by the courts.
George senior, Charles Lionel and George Robert Fitzgerald in happier times. George Robert is the boy flying the kite.
In 1778 George moved back from Dublin to Turlough. At this stage his father owed him nearly £12,000 in the annuity plus interest, and George took legal action against him. His father’s lawyer was a local solicitor named Patrick Randall McDonnell, while George was acted for by a friend of his named Timothy Brecknock. Brecknock had trained at Oxford (though he never got a degree), and at first practised in London. The highlights of his career there included getting a highwayman found innocent through fraud, and having his satirical works declared sedition and (as was tradition) publicly burnt by the hangman. Now in his sixties, he had attached himself to George and his experience trumped that of young McDonnell. George took possession of the house and estates, but his father conspired with McDonnell and George’s younger brother Charles to sell a lease on part of the estates. When the man who bought the lease (a Galwegian named Caesar French) sought to put his cattle on the estates, George took great offence at this “trespassing”, and naturally the two fought a duel. French being defeated, he gathered a force of his friends from Galway to take the land by force, but Fitzgerald had his own band of “militia” and a battle ensued. This time French was the victor and took over the land. George was arrested for his part in the affair, but managed to escape. In retaliation against his father for having started the whole affair, George had him kidnapped. The old man was hidden in a cave. In one of the most bizarre twists in the story, in order to keep him from escaping he was manacled to George’s trusty pet bear (who had moved down from Dublin with his master). His father, perhaps naturally, agreed to sign over all his interest in the estates to George if he was moved to Dublin, but once they got there he refused to do so, and let people know who George was. There was still a reward out for his arrest, and he was soon apprehended. He was sentenced to three years in prison, though he was released early due to a claim of ill health.
In 1780, while all the above was going on, George’s wife Jane died. Though he had been neglectful of her in life, he made a great show of grieving her in death, to such an extent that it was considered almost unseemly by some. When he was imprisoned their daughter was taken in by her relatives in England, and George had no further part in her upbringing. On his release from prison in 1782, he first set out on revenging himself on one of the barristers who had helped convict him, a man named Richard Martin. Martin was known as “Hair-trigger Dick” in his youth for his temper, but had by this time in his life sworn off duelling and refused to be drawn. George returned to Turlough in a sulk, where he was forced to lower his standards of living considerably, as his house had been looted by the locals while he was imprisoned. [3] He still had Brecknock, however, as well as a manservant named Andrew Craig (known as Scotch Andrew, though he was an Ulster Scot rather than a Scottish one). He also remarried that year to a local woman named Sydney Vaughn. He finished the year off in his usual style by finally managing to get a challenge from Martin by visiting his house and shooting his pet wolfhound dead. In the ensuing duel, George was lightly wounded, while Martin was shot in the chest and left bedridden. While he was unconscious, George is said to have visited him and shown nothing but cheerful concern, acting as though Martin was now one of his dearest friends.
Richard Martin, one of the Martins of Dunguaire Castle. He was also known as “Humanity Dick” for having sponsored the UK’s first ever animal cruelty law.
In 1784, George received the freedom of the city of Londonderry (possibly due to his uncle’s influence), showing how his reputation had been repaired since his imprisonment. His downfall came through his ongoing feuds with the local barrister who had worked on his father’s behalf, Patrick Randall McDonnell. The two vied for leadership of the Mayo scene, with their partisans staging attacks on each other’s property. On one occasion, some of McDonnell’s men killed George’s prize hunting hounds, as well as wounding Craig. Eventually, matters came to a head, though the exact reason is a matter of dispute. Some reports have it that it was caused by Brecknock kidnapping McDonnell’s fiancee to force her to marry him, until she was rescued by McDonnell. Others have it that it was when McDonnell defeated George in the leadership election for the local militia, and George saw his biggest source of local influence threatened. Regardless, George (in his capacity as a Justice of the Peace) had McDonnell and several of his men arrested on trumped up charges. They managed to escape, but in the pursuit McDonnell and several of his men were killed. George, Craig and Brecknock were all arrested. Craig, who had actually carried out the killings, turned state’s evidence and was sent to jail. George and Brecknock were both sentenced to death.
George Robert Fitzgerald was hanged for murder alongside Brecknock on the 12th June, 1786. On the first attempt, the rope broke. He joked that the courts of Mayo were too mean to afford a rope sufficiently strong to hang him, but the replacement proved more than adequate for the job. His body was borne back to Turlough House, which had once again been looted by the locals. So thorough had they been that not a single candlestick remained, and his widow was forced to use candles in bottles to light his wake. His daughter remained unaware of her father’s fate until she discovered it in reading a magazine eight years later, which is said to have caused her to die an early death of shame. Another story has it that grave robbers dug Fitzgerald up, years later, in order to steal a ring he had been buried wearing and found his skull with a vast chunk missing, a legacy of his early head injury. Perhaps that wound explains his aggressive nature – some who have suffered similar injuries have had difficulty controlling their emotions, and his grief at the death of his first wife would also bear this out. As with Martin, he never bore a man a grudge once he had duelled him, and though he was one of the most notorious duellists of the 18th century, he never killed a man (and he does not seem to have planned to kill McDonnell). In the end, it is as Fighting Fitzgerald that he is remembered – the most notorious duellist Ireland ever produced.
On the 12th December a group from the library and archives visited our counterparts at Magdalen College. The visit included a tour of the newly opened student library and the modern archive centre and also offered the chance to view some fascinating items from both collections in the Old Library and the Muniment Tower. The trip provided an opportunity to learn more about the history of the College and to see the variety of the collections, including some luxurious footwear left behind by the founder William Waynflete in the 15th Century. The staff at the Magdalen College dedicated much time and thought to the day and made it a thoroughly enjoyable experience.
We were also lucky enough to visit the Library and Archive’s joint exhibition on Fragments of Note exhibition.
In addition to a series of exhibitions and events that commemorate the Fallen of the First World War, the Collections strive to honour and remember those who fought and returned.
One Hundred years on, our latest display focuses on two Old Etonian Prisoners of War and has been curated by current Etonians.
The boys have examined the archives of Hugh Durnford and Lionel Archer Cust to select the stories they felt compelled to tell.
Extracts and objects from the Durnford archive were selected to trace the events of his imprisonment and escape from a Prisoner of War camp, while material from the Cust archive focuses on the experience of families awaiting news and letters from their captured loved ones.
The display is up in the Old Etonian section of the Museum of Eton Life until winter 2018, and can be seen on Sunday afternoons during normal opening hours. We will be sharing further information on Collections exhibitions and events commemorating World War One over the coming months.
“I am just going outside and may be some time.” Lawrence Oates and the expedition team following Robert Falcon Scott, 1910-1913.
I received an enquiry into the Eton Archive yesterday that provided me with some interesting researching! Someone wanted to know (for a film director friend of his) if we had any information on the Old Etonians who were party to the Terra Nova expedition to the Antarctic regions from 1910-1913. After some help from our handy online resources (http://archives.etoncollege.com/) I found that only one Old Etonian did voyage with Scott: Captain Lawrence Edward Grace Oates, or ‘Titus’. As he personally wealthy he was able to contribute £1000 to the cause. This makes the £33 that the College donated look like nothing! Although Scott did send a thank you letter to the College for it.
Oates attended Eton from the Lent term of 1894 and the Lent term of 1896 and left due to being hit by pneumonia.
Oates register entry (second from bottom) 1894
During his relatively short time here he sadly left little impression on the archive. (I always feel personally responsible when I cannot provide archive users with the information they expect.)
However, he did make an impression on a fellow Old Etonian Miles Backhouse, who wrote into he Chronicle in 1913 to stress Oates achievements as a sportsman following an obituary that stated otherwise:
Following his death Oates was celebrated by the school following his self sacrifice in the hope that it would save his comrades. He was hailed as a great product of Eton for his brave act as an ‘English gentleman’. There is a plaque dedicated to him on the library cloisters of the Memorial Buildings.
The National Trust owns Agatha Christie’s holiday home in Devon. The beautiful views and the impressive gardens makes it obvious why Christie enjoyed bringing her whole family here.
The View from the house
The family is said to be a family of collectors, although I believe there is a fine line between being a collector and being a hoarder.
The library, with the ‘frieze’ or graffiti painted by an member of the US Coastguard, Lt Marshall Lee. It depicts quite graphic images of there journey.
The day lead me to have a Christie inspired weekend, we went on a steam train from Kingswear to Greenway (Chrisite’s house) and walked back. This felt like a good idea at the time but we soon got lost and doubled our walking time in a race against the sun setting.
We watched Poirot and And Then There Were None, which is so dark and clever and I bought Murder on the Orient Express to read. I am greatly saddened that the first location we come to in the novel is Syria, in Aleppo. It describes the place briefly and I wonder if it is at all comparable now. Agatha at Greenway
Recently I went to the Tate gallery in Liverpool. I enjoyed seeing Tracy Emin’s unmade bed compared and contrasted with Blake. But what I find most interesting is how people interact with pieces.
Be it a father ushering a child away from something that was deemed unsuitable, or my dad who is not he biggest fan of contemporary art absorbed by an installation where robots act out a three part play. Or the cathedral which changes colour as the day progresses, people always look up at it and stay like that for quite some time.
I am home now and it is amazing how nothing has changed. It almost feels like I’ve never been away, perhaps India was just a dream. So to convince myself that it really happened I have uploaded some of my favourite photos from the trip.
The View from the house
The library, with the ‘frieze’ or graffiti painted by an member of the US Coastguard, Lt Marshall Lee. It depicts quite graphic images of there journey.
Agatha at Greenway
georginarobin 