Smith Journal – January 2019

115 SMITH JOURNAL

IF YOU’RE HEADMASTER DR HENRY
INGLES, LOCKED INSIDE YOUR
BOARDING HOUSE WHILE YOUR
TEENAGE STUDENTS LITERALLY
RIOT OUTSIDE, YOU’RE PROBABLY
THINKING TWO THINGS. FIRST:
“HOW ON EARTH AM I GOING TO
GET OUT OF THIS MESS?” AND
SECOND: “I DON’T GET PAID
ENOUGH FOR THIS SHIT.”

..........................................

It’s November 1797, and Ingles is in all sorts
of trouble. He only took the gig at Rugby
School (that’s a school in Rugby, England,
not a school dedicated to rugby, the sport)
three years ago, and while his first two years
ticked by uneventfully, his students are really
sticking it to him in year three. The trouble
started when a boy named Astley began
firing cork bullets at the study windows of
the housemaster for a lark. Ingles confronted
the boy, who claimed to have been sold the
gunpowder at a shop in town. Doing his
best Columbo impression, Ingles went to
see the shopkeeper, who in turn claimed
he merely sold the boy some tea.

Believing the shopkeeper over petulant,
cork-slinging Astley, Ingles f logged the
boy for lying, and Astley, incensed by the
injustice (that may or may not have actually
been unjust), retaliated by smashing the
shopkeeper’s windows. Things, as they say,
escalated quickly: Ingles demanded Astley

and his friends pay for the damage. Instead,

they made a small bomb and used it to blow

a school door off its hinges. The infamous

‘Rugby School Rebellion’ of 1797 had begun.

Interestingly, the situation at Rugby isn’t

(and wasn’t) the only example of British

private-school kids raging against the

machine – the 17th and 18th centuries saw

shedloads of (very posh) rebellions take

place up and down the country. In 1690,

for example, the young scallywags of

Manchester Grammar locked themselves

inside their school (and, more pertinently,

their headmasters out) after a disagreement

regarding the length of their Christmas

holiday. Later, a rebellion at Winchester

saw a headmaster held hostage by axe-

wielding students. The schools of Eton

and Winchester, it’s estimated, both

endured six rebellions in this vein, with

Rugby clocking up a total of five.

According to sociologists, good old-fashioned

classism was to blame. Before the 1500s, the

majority of aristocratic students in the U.K.

were tutored at home. With the introduction

of private schools (or ‘public schools’, as they

are somewhat confusingly known in England),

the little lords suddenly found themselves

thrust out of their manors and into communal

classrooms – and they weren’t too keen on the

idea of being told what to do by common folk,

AK A their teachers. The countrywide chaos

that ensued led pupil numbers to plummet,

and private schools across Britain came close

to shutting their doors for good. The

schools’ saving grace came in the shape

of the Public Schools Act of 1868, which

cemented their right to self-governorship.

None of which helped poor Ingles out

of his pickle back in 1797. The day after

the incident with the bomb, the students

signalled the next phase of their rebellion

by ringing the school bell. They then

proceeded to heave school furniture into

the school field, where they swiftly set it

all on fire. Eventually, Ingles managed to

get word out to Mr Butlin, Rugby’s justice

of the peace. Much to the boys’ surprise,

Butlin arrived on the scene with a crew

of horse-dealers (complete with horses

and whips), a bunch of soldiers and

some special constables.

Catching a glimpse of their adversaries,

the boys retreated to an island – complete

with a moat – within the school grounds

and drew up the drawbridge (yes, the

drawbridge). Butlin, who was apparently

entirely unfuckwithable, distracted the kids

by reading the Riot Act aloud. Meanwhile,

the soldiers snuck around the back and,

in a fittingly dramatic end to the ordeal,

imprisoned the wayward pupils. Peace

at last, et cetera. Ingles, finally free from

his temporary prison, wasted no time

in expelling as many of the ringleaders

as he could, f logging the living daylights

out of the rest of them and, presumably,

asking for a substantial pay rise. •

we don’t need no education

NOW REVERED AROUND THE WORLD, BRITAIN’S PRIVATE SCHOOLS

WERE ONCE PLAGUED BY VIOLENCE, RIOTING AND REBELLIONS.

IN FACT, MANY BARELY MADE IT OUT OF THE 18TH CENTURY INTACT.

Writer Oliver Pelling Illustrator Valentin Tkach