From the Archives The Fine Art of Graffiti

by Paul Stevens, Repton Archivist & Detective

Ihave cause to remember the Reverend Gerald Ormsby Vandeleur (H’1853) on an almost daily basis, even though he died over 120 years ago. His name is carved into the wooden door of the Library, just one of hundreds of names that boys artfully rendered onto the fabric of the School with their penknives and braddles in the nineteenth century.

One of my ongoing research projects is to record these names, and, where possible tie them to entries in the School Register. The Causey is covered in names, some up to six inches high, and must have taken many hours to complete. One wonders what the penalty was for such audacious vandalism – boldly signing a name in a school that numbered only 50 pupils was either an act of foolhardy bravado or an activity that was taken lightly by the masters. Whatever the case, and without wishing to encourage any modern addenda, I am very glad that they did. They are, in many cases, the only records that we have of these very old Reptonians, and it is hard not to look at their skilful efforts and wonder what they did next.

Richard Formby (H’1841), whose lettering is so large that it surely belongs on a billboard, became a lawyer and a Justice of the PeaceAlfred Simpson (H’1855) who carved nearby, practised as a solicitor. John Pedder (H’1844) joined the Royal Lancashire Militia at the start of the Crimean War, but on the ancient walls of the Old Priory most of his principal carving companions took to holy rather than military orders once they’d left Repton; at least a dozen future vicars left their mark on the Causey walls.

Most its graffiti was carved when the School was at a particularly low ebb – there is very little once Dr Pears takes charge in 1854. Before the Chapel opened in 1859, Repton boys would worship next door in the Parish Church. Iuse the word ‘worship’ loosely, as there are several accounts of them firing off catapults at the ears and noses of any monument within range, and those who have seen the effigy of the recumbent knight at the entrance to the crypt can readily attest to their accuracy. Every remaining inch of the poor alabaster knight was used for graffiti, and although not all of it was left by Reptonians, some of the most prominent were. Robert Falcon (H’1843) was a serial offender – he carved his name on the knight’s chest and in several other places around the School. Unsurprisingly, he became a vicar.

Because some of our earliest headmasters didn’t keep registers, the names of hundreds of Repton pupils are lost to us. ‘Henry Sykes 1644’ is scored onto the oak panels behind the Headmaster’s chair in the Library, and ‘H Peacock 1791’ appears on one of its shelves, but, as yet, we know next to nothing about them. Part of the joy of this project is in trying to fill in the blanks, and over the coming months if I am seen to staring at walls or tracing letters with my finger, please be assured that I haven’t entirely lost the plot.