what he was at eighteen, the only being who
I ever admired or envied. The hero to whom
I allude is the Captain of the Boats.

He was most commonly not only the
captain of the boats, but the cock of the
school, of undisputed fistic pre-eminence
over five hundred and thirty Eton boys,
and compelled to seek for rivals worthy of
his strength and science among the bargees
and boatmen who infested the banks of the
Thames. Along the course of that silver-
winding river, from Windsor Bridge up
stream as far as Surley Hall, he ruled an
absolute monarch—a water-god. He
arranged the regattas and the races; he chose
captains of the various boats; he got up the
matches with Westminster; he issued ukases
for the government of the aquatic world
generally. In a school passionately addicted
to water amusements, such a personage must
necessarily occupy the position of the most
successful general in a military republic.
The Captain of the Eleven, who could alone
be put in competition with him, has always
appeared to me to fill a much lower place in
public opinion; the cricketing, which he
directed, not, after all, enlisting the general
sympathies of the community. He was, too
in many cases, a wizen fellow, who could not
have stood up for five minutes against the
lightest weight in the eight, let alone its
captain. It was impossible to look with
respect upon such a character; all that could
be said was, that he was the best cricketer in
the school, as some colleger might be the
best fives'-player, or some lower boy deep in
the depths of the fourth form, might be the
most expert at the game of rounders.

But, of how many other pursuits, pastimes,
and associations did my hero not
become, in virtue of his office, the director
and chieftain! He usually chose sides at
the "wall"—a winter game, nominally
after the fashion of football, but in which
the breaking of shins, bruising of faces, and,
it has sometimes happened, the putting out
of eyes, were the principal goals attained.
He was the centre and sovereign of the "big
levy"—a kind of social aristocracy which
deserves a word of mention. It was a group
formed of our notabilities and illustrations,
who chatted together with their books under
their arms while waiting for the summons to
morning and afternoon school. How
wistfully did we, the small fry, wander round the
outskirts of this envied group. And how,
like children of a larger growth, we formed
ourselves into little gatherings and coteries
of our own, to discuss our insignificant affairs
with the same earnestness which was there
bestowed upon matters of great public
moment—the manning of the ten-oar, the
match between the two sides of college, the
challenge to be inserted in Bell's Life. I
believe that this big levy was the truest
aristocracy in the world, not even excepting
the British house of peers. To gain admission
to it, it was necessary to show some
claim beyond age, size, or standing in school.
It was the council of our warriors and
athletes. Over it the captain of the boats
ruled supreme. He was, in fact, the chieftain
of our tribe, the guardian of our honour, the
great representative looked up to support,
in all extra-scholastic pursuits and differences,
the name and the reputation of an Etonian.

The mode of electing this great officer was,
in my time, perfectly regular and fixed, and
had probably been handed down by tradition
from a remote period. It took place at the
epoch of the great annual match, called
Upper Sixes. The captain and the second
captain of the boats tossed up for choice, and
the person (I can scarcely bring myself to
call him the boy) first named by either of
them was considered next in succession to the
captaincy, which he almost invariably
inherited the following year. It very rarely
happened that the same person filled the post
during two boating seasons, as at the period
of his elevation he was naturally one of the
elder lads about to proceed to college, or to
enter the army. In this election, unlike
most other elections, I believe that favouritism
very seldom exercised any influence, and
the maxim of "The right man in the right
place" received a practical illustration among
us long before it was pressed upon the
unwilling notice of the captains who had to
choose sides for a more important contest.
We had, I must tell you, such a thing as
public opinion, by which the fittest candidate
had long since been designated, and against
which the cock of the school, no more than a
prime minister—perhaps a good deal less—
can in the long run hope to contend. So that
the appointment was usually acquiesced in
with at least as much readiness as has since
marked our acquiescence in the appointment
of admirals and generalissimos named to play
out the great match between the two sides of
Europe.

I have already intimated, and must repeat,
that to us, the lower boys, this youthful son
of Anak was altogether the greatest, the
most stupendous, the most unapproachable
of human beings. Every one recollects the
story of Dr. Busby showing King Charles
the Second over Westminster school, and
keeping his hat on the whole time, because
he would not have his pupils believe that
there existed in the world any more important
personage than himself. Our captain
might have walked bare-headed behind the
Emperor of Russia without in any degree
lowering himself in our esteem. His position
was, in fact, impregnable. He was
usually pointed out to new boys on their
arrival, pretty much as the late Duke of
Wellington was signalled to the attention of
country visitors in Hyde Park. It was a
magnificent sight to see him in his official
position on great state occasions,—the
regattas of the fourth of June, and Election