THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SCHOOLBOY
A MEMOIR BY THOMAS TOMKINS, III

Presented here with his kind permission is Chapter Three of the hitherto unpublished memoir of his youth of a retired English publisher written under the pen name Thomas Tomkins and finished in 2026.

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Chapter Three

At St Mark’s, cleanliness was assuredly next to Godliness. We were woken at seven o’clock with a handbell plied vigorously by the duty prefect. We flung off our pyjamas, trooped naked into the bathroom where we queued to lean over a bath and have a jug of cold water poured over our neck. Following this assault upon our senses, which certainly had the desired effect of ensuring that we were awake, we washed, ran back to the dormitory to put on our shorts and singlets, and then ran around the perimeter of the playing field.

Back to the dormitory to change into our uniform (and woe betide any stragglers!). Then to breakfast, a substantial cooked meal, with porridge, watery and lumpy but hot and filling and made palatable by sugar sprinkled on top, eggs and bacon and fried bread, toast and marmalade, washed down with copious draughts of hot, sweet tea.

Following this we proceeded to Chapel, where we sang both a Hymn and a Psalm, listened to a passage of Scripture and were addressed by the Gaffer on whatever subject seemed to him to be appropriate. Notices were given out at the end, and then we proceeded to our classrooms to be taught. Mid-morning we broke off for “drill”, conducted by a retired Sergeant of the British Army. This man cajoled, insulted and bullied us into vigorous compliance with his orders, but I have to admit that I have never been so fit as when subjected to this daily ordeal.

After two more lessons, we took luncheon, a relatively modest meal of two courses, and we were then sent to our dormitories to rest. Talking was forbidden during this period but we were allowed to read. Following this we changed again into shorts and singlets, and spent an hour on the playing field. I was never a natural games player; football I coped with by following the ball, though at a safe distance. Cricket had to be endured, though it had the advantage that prolonged periods could be spent either standing around in the hope that the ball would go in some other direction, or if on the batting side, sitting quietly in the hope of not being called to the wicket. I co-operated well enough to avoid censure, but was never invited to play in one of the school teams.

After Games we had a glass of milk and a biscuit, and were then free until 4.30, when lessons resumed. The evening meal was served at six – this was a modest affair of soup or something on toast, bread and butter, jam, and again lashings of hot, sweet tea - then Prep followed. After this, the junior boys went to bed, while the seniors had free time. Undoubtedly this was the best part of the day; the masters were safe in their own common room, while we boys were free to play either on the field outside, or in wet weather or after dark in the warren of tunnels and corridors under the school house.

A word here, if I may, on nomenclature. At independent schools, the staff were known as masters or mistresses, rather than “teachers”. In theory at least they had the degree of Master of Arts; in practice I think most if not all of them had a degree of some sort if not an M. A. Male staff from the Headmaster down were invariably addressed as ‘Sir’; female staff usually as “Miss”, whether they were married or not. Most masters had nicknames bestowed upon them by boys, many of them quite imaginative. The bald-headed Mr Harries was “The Egg”; Mr Cubber, from his habit of blowing through his moustache, was “The Walrus”. All female staff, including the matrons, were referred to among the boys as “Ma”, followed by their surname.

On Wednesdays and Saturdays we had no afternoon lessons; matches were played against other schools, and all boys not in teams were expected to attend and cheer on their own school. This was varied by House Matches in which different sections of the school vied against one another. I once ventured to ask Mr Pascoe which team he supported, since he was not attached to any one House. His answer, which has stayed with me life-long, was “whichever team is losing”.

On Sundays we rose an hour later – I think most of us, waking at the usual time, spent the hour deliciously reading in bed – and after breakfast were trooped off to the local Parish Church. In those days the principal morning service in most churches was Matins, and only those few boys who had been confirmed were expected to stay on for the fairly brief service of Holy Communion which followed.

After our luncheon on a Sunday we were sent to rest on our beds for half an hour, and then followed the weekly letter writing session. We were each provided with a sheet of paper, an envelope and a stamp, and required to write to our parents or, in the case of boys whose parents lived abroad, guardians. How often I wished I, too, had a Guardian. While my life at school was busy and full of activity, I had the greatest difficulty in finding things which I felt might be if interest to my parents. Most boys had a weekly letter back; I received one only when it was necessary to convey instructions, such as to remember to bring this or that article home at half term. I did receive an occasional letter from dear Granny T, though her handwriting was so spidery that it was almost impossible to read. But I did make the effort to respond, and filled my letters to her with details of my activities.

St Mark’s, in common with most schools at the time, had a curiously ambivalent attitude to juvenile sexuality. In theory we had no sexual feelings of any kind, but considerable efforts were made to avoid our masturbating, and the initial sexual fumblings in which most boys indulged were just not seen.  And yet we saw each other naked on a daily basis, in the bathrooms, in the showers and changing rooms after games, in the swimming pool, in the dormitories and even in the lavatories. The urinals were simply a length of tiled wall with no screens or dividers, and the partitions between the cubicles were low enough for a standing boy to peer over, while the doors were barely sufficient for decency. Why the sight of one’s friends in the nude was supposed to be anti-sexual I don’t know, but it was probably part of the “healthy, outdoor life” and the pursuit of athletic prowess which was believed to be an efficient preventative of masturbation.

From personal experience I can state confidently that this did not work. I was fascinated by the genitalia of my school-fellows, the more so as most of them were uncircumcised. I had been circumcised shortly after my birth; I think it quite probable that my father had performed the operation himself. This was quite a common practice from the late nineteenth century and was believed to prevent, or at least deter, masturbation. In this it failed dismally, of course. However, nineteenth century medical writings contained much nonsense on the “evils of self-abuse” and the like. It was that appalling American Harvey Kellogg who advocated circumcision as a remedy for masturbation; he recommended that the operation should be carried out without anaesthetic as this would associate handling the penis with pain in young boys.  How many unfortunate children’s lives were blighted by this rubbish I have no way of telling, but it must be a great many.

There were a number of other boys at St Mark’s who were circumcised, including the Leaver brothers – they were Jewish and presumably their original name was Levi. Anglicization of Jewish surnames was not uncommon at that time, especially among the wealthier classes. Anti-Semitism, despite the horrible example of Hitler, was still widespread.

At the age of around eleven I began to experience erections. This was not uncommon, and excited little remark even if observed in the showers or changing room. “Oh Tomkins, you’ve gone Jack” had no pejorative connotation; if spoken by a younger boy who had not yet reached that stage it might be spoken in terms almost of admiration. I certainly had ample opportunity to observe other boys’ tackle. Long foreskins fascinated me, and my friend Ratcliff had a particularly extensive and floppy appendage which was a source of endless wonderment. So, too, were the senior boys who had pubic hair and some of whose penises were of almost adult size.

While defecation was usually carried out in at least theoretical privacy, urination was a quite frank affair. Boys would stand in rows at the urinals, and at busy times such as the end of morning lessons, where there was no room at the urinals, rather than queuing boys would stand in groups around a w.c. There were, of course, the usual trials of strength or skill; boys who could pee highest up the wall, or furthest across the Jakes^[1], or even for the longest period, were accorded a degree of admiration.

Inevitably, we took an interest in one another’s bodies. There was one chap, if memory serves his name was Hughes, whose delight it was to be watched while defecating. I believe he was noted for the frequency and abundance with which he could perform. The appearance of the first dusting of pubic hair was regarded as cause for celebration. A few boys (I was one) achieved quite a creditable undergrowth before leaving at the age of thirteen. Puberty then, I think, started a year or two later than it does now.

Among the boys in the top year or two, mutual masturbation was not uncommon. There were various places where boys might meet for a little private pleasure: some spaces in the basement were pretty dark most of the time, and there was a modest shrubbery adjoining the playing field where many unofficial games were played by boys in twos or threes, or occasionally larger groups.

We were careful, of course, not to be caught by those in authority.  Apart from a few unfortunate lads whose parents had filled them with horror stories about what would happen if they “polluted themselves”, we had no particular conscience about our activities. But we did realize that it was one of the numerous things, along with smoking (not that any of us had more access to tobacco than a very occasional cigarette purloined from a master’s supply or pilfered at home), missing Games or eating illicit tuck, which would bring down adult wrath upon our heads if discovered.

So from time to time boys would go off in twos or groups to find what enjoyment they could. A few sexually precocious members of the school were able to ejaculate and this, of course, was greatly admired. By my final year at St Mark’s I had achieved this stage of my development. “Oh, Tomkins”, a boy might say, “show me how you pump cream”.

Continue to Chapter Four

[1]    Jakes, meaning a lavatory, is a term of considerable antiquity; it occurs at least as far back as the reign of Elizabeth I, in the writings of her godson, Sir John Harington.