If the great east window is now somewhat less of a “transparent failure” than of yore, the other windows on the north and south sides of the Chapel remain specimens of bad design and colour. Those in the Ante-Chapel, however, are less glaring. The two large windows by Hardman on the north and south form the memorial to Etonians who fell in the Crimea; those at the west end are personal memorials. Below these windows are a number of tablets commemorating Etonians of note. On the floor of the Ante-Chapel is a fine slab to the memory of the late Bishop Abraham. There is also a marble statue of the Founder, by Durham, and another of Provost Goodall, who in all probability would have been appalled by the changes of 1847.

The Rev. John Wilder, whose munificence served to modernise the College Chapel he had known all his life, is also here commemorated by a tablet. Besides giving £5000 to the restoration fund, he presented fourteen stained-glass windows in the choir, and decorated the reredos and east end as well as the new organ and case. Though his benefactions were animated by a generous and unselfish spirit, it is much to be regretted that he did not devote his money to some better purpose.

In the Ante-Chapel, behind a railing, is a font, placed there at the time of the renovations sixty years ago. It was presented by some Collegers as a memorial to C. J. Abraham. The last baptism for which it was used took place two or three years ago, when an Eton boy of fourteen or fifteen was christened in the Chapel. About to be confirmed, it was discovered that he had never been baptized. In all probability he was a foreigner. There stood previously at the same place an older font, of which there is mention as early as 1479. Lipscomb describes the earlier one as “a beautiful ancient font of white marble, of an octagon shape, elegantly carved in relief and supported by a pedestal on a square plinth.” It would be interesting to know what has become of this font. If not broken up, it has probably been sent away to some village church.

In the Ante-Chapel, before the Reformation, there existed four altars, the chief of which, still marked by a row of niches, was in the south-eastern corner behind where now stands the statue of Provost Goodall. This was called the Altar of St. Catherine, or sometimes the Altar of Thomas Jourdelay, after a certain inhabitant of Eton who lies buried near it. Provost Bost (1477-1504) left a sum of money for an extra chaplain who should say Mass at this altar at least three times a week for him and his relations. The altar in the north-eastern corner of the Ante-Chapel was dedicated to the Blessed Virgin. The remaining two were on either side of the entrance to the choir and were dedicated to St. Nicholas and St. Peter.

One of the few relics which the spirit of change has left intact in this old Chapel is the lectern, which within recent years has once more been taken into use. It dates from the fifteenth century, and escaped destruction by the Puritans in 1651, when the College paid sixpence for its removal. A considerable number of Etonians are fittingly commemorated in the Chapel, but the Marquis Wellesley, in all probability the greatest lover of Eton who ever lived, has his memorial in the North Porch, where may be seen the Latin elegiacs which he wrote as his own epitaph. The tablet on which they are inscribed was erected by his brother, the great Duke. A good rendering in English verse was made by Lord Derby:—

Lord Wellesley was deeply attached to his old school, and some of the last productions of his pen were dedicated to Eton. Consequently it was only fitting that when he died, in testimony of the strong affection which he entertained towards the place where he received his first impressions of literary taste, and in accordance with his desire expressed before his death, his body should be laid to rest beneath the College Chapel of Eton—that spot of earth which, through a long and arduous life in many lands, was ever the nearest and dearest to his heart. The new Lower Chapel, built 1889-1891, also contains a memorial to Lord Wellesley in a stained-glass window, the gift of the late Mr. A. Montgomery, who was once his private secretary.

Two Eton Headmasters are commemorated by monuments on the right towards the eastern end of the Chapel. These are Dr. Balston and Dr. Hawtrey, the last person to be buried within the Chapel walls. On his breast is a badge with the arms of Scotland and the motto Nemo me impune lacessit just showing. This badge recalls an old Eton usage[6] now extinct. The most modern monument is a statue of Henry VI., put up over the north door to the memory of the late Mr. J. P. Carter, for many years one of the Assistant Masters.

In 1876, owing to much of the Headington stone used by Waynflete having become decayed, the whole of the exterior of the Ante-Chapel was entirely refaced.[7] This, with other restorations, of necessity impaired a good deal of its ancient charm. On the whole the renovation was carried out with care, but it is to be regretted that the old pinnacles were then entirely removed and new ones (designed in a highly ornate style of Gothic for which there is no authority[8]) erected under the direction of Mr. Woodyer. The old pinnacles had last been repaired in 1698-1699. A curious circumstance connected with them is that during their removal fragments of the ancient reredos—destroyed in 1546-1548—were discovered to have been built into their fabric. Whatever may have been the demerits of the old pinnacles, one or two of them which had suffered least from the hands of time should have been allowed to remain in place, so that future generations might realise the original design which modern taste, or lack of taste, has chosen to discard.

One of the most interesting architectural features of the College Chapel is the ancient holy water stoup on the right-hand side of the door of the south porch. As may be seen in old prints, the service bell was formerly in a sort of dovecot (irreverently called by some a larder) placed on the roof of the porch. Here also hung the knell bell, which, as long as the College Chapel remained the Eton Parish Church, was tolled for all funerals. The service bell still in use, hanging in the turret at the south-western angle, bears the inscription “Prayes Ye Lord, 1637.”

In a niche on the west wall of the Ante-Chapel, facing the street, a statue of William Waynflete was placed in 1893. This was subscribed for by some old Etonians connected with Sussex. The task of designing it was entrusted to Sir Arthur Blomfield, who produced one of the very few bits of commendable modern work in Eton. Indeed, this little statue, beneath an elaborate canopy, may be called the only real artistic improvement carried out within the last seventy years, during which time so much labour and money have been devoted to what in some cases amounts to mere wanton destruction. Of the new quadrangle and Lower Chapel, built by Sir Arthur Blomfield 1889-1891, little need here be said. On the whole, the architect has done his work well, and no doubt, under the mellowing influence of time, the Queen’s schools will assume something of that picturesque aspect which in some slight degree already pertains to the New Schools completed by Mr. Woodyer in 1863.

A full account of the new Lower Chapel, its memorials and stained-glass windows, is to be found in the admirable Illustrated Guide to Eton College written by Mr. R. A. Austen Leigh, who in this and other works has done much which should gain for him the thanks of all Etonians. Since the construction of the New Schools, Upper School, which tradition has connected with the name of Wren, is only used as a schoolroom for one division for the purposes of examination. Speeches, I believe, are now to take place in the new Memorial Hall, and the busts of celebrated Etonians will no longer look down upon the visitors who flock to Eton on the 4th of June. The old staircase, from the colonnade to Upper School, is one of the most picturesque portions of the College. Here it was that in old days boys promoted from Lower to Upper School were subjected to the ordeal of “booking,” being hit on the head with books as they passed up the staircase.

Within the last fifty years the town of Eton has suffered severely from a picturesque point of view owing to the demolition and alteration of many quaint old houses which formerly gave the place a charming old-world appearance. The “Old Sun,” which was pulled down not very long ago, contained some fine arched oaken beams, and the laths were perpendicular and fastened with willow twigs. On the front wall used to be a Sun Insurance plate of the eighteenth century, one of the earliest issued by that Company.

In that part of Eton given up to houses for boys, alterations have of necessity been made in order to afford accommodation for increased numbers. Some of the older houses have had extra stories added, whilst entirely new ones have also been built. Of these latter somewhat “barracky” erections it is perhaps best not to speak.

With regard to the Eton Memorial, however, built for some unknown reason in the Renaissance style, the writer can only say that in his opinion a building less in keeping with the spirit of Eton it would have been impossible to erect. Why the authorities should have selected a design of this sort is difficult to understand. Surely some architect might have been found to produce a building which would have harmonised with the fine old brickwork which in the quadrangle and elsewhere produces such a charming effect? To intrude a purely personal opinion, those responsible for the maintenance of Eton School have within the last seventy years committed three great artistic mistakes—the first, the indiscriminating restoration of the College Chapel, entailing the destruction of much admirable woodwork; the second, the renovation of the College Hall, in which it is admitted a number of interesting features were obliterated; the third, the erection of the huge Memorial, the whole aspect and style of which is utterly out of keeping with its surroundings.

Closely associated with Eton is the adjoining Royal Borough of Windsor, in which past generations of Etonians played so many wild pranks. The houses which formerly fringed the walls of the Castle have long disappeared, and on the other side of the road few ancient buildings remain. The queer old theatre and gabled buildings near “Damnation Corner” have been demolished within comparatively recent years. “Damnation Corner,” it is curious to recall, received its name from the fact that in the old “shirking” days it was extremely difficult for an Eton boy to avoid a master coming quickly round the corner.

During the last fifty years the whole appearance of Windsor Hill has been transformed, the hand of the restorer having not even spared the venerable curfew tower—now for some forty-eight years disfigured by a roof so monstrous in its ugliness that it stands forth as a surpassing and convincing proof of our national lack of artistic taste.

The hideous top, totally inappropriate in style, was put up by Salvin in 1863, when the ancient bell tower of picturesque and suitable appearance was demolished. The operations carried out at that date were, of course, dignified by the name of “restoration”; as a matter of fact the unwieldy addition to the tower had not a vestige of archæological authority. It is much to be hoped that some day the ancient appearance of the tower will be restored, for the huge, ugly, and inappropriate slated roof constitutes an eyesore from almost every point of vantage from which the Castle can be viewed. Within quite recent years there could be seen, looming through an embrasure, the muzzle of an old cannon, which, according to a local legend, had been placed there by Cromwell in order to guard against any hostile move from the direction of Eton. During a recent visit to Windsor the writer was quite unable to locate either cannon or embrasure; presumably both have gone. This old curfew tower—the oldest part of the Castle, and said to have been built in the days of the Conqueror himself—has been peculiarly unfortunate. When Salvin constructed his abominable top he had the decency to leave the rest of the external structure alone, and in the writer’s Eton days, thirty years ago, almost all the old stonework and quaint little windows, cunningly contrived for bowmen to shoot through, remained as they had been built. Since then there have been two or three reparations; no doubt the decay of the stone made some renovations necessary. In the last of these, however, during which the whole of the exterior was refaced with an entirely different kind of stone, the original design of the tower, which, like all the work of the Normans, was very simple, has been tampered with, the result being that its ancient charm has been completely impaired. So is it that in this country, in spite of much meaningless gush and prattle of education and appreciation of art, almost every fine monument is by degrees vulgarised and destroyed. The curfew tower, it should be added, was one of the few parts of the Castle left untouched by George IV. in the very comprehensive remodelling of the whole stately pile by Wyattville.