Wellington College was founded to provide an almost free education for the children of Army officers who had died in service, and from its inception, eighty to one hundred places were reserved for such boys. Their families paid a nominal fee, the rest of the costs being met by the Foundation endowment; these pupils were therefore known as Foundationers.  

During the 1940s and 1950s, the legacy of the Second World War meant that there was much demand for these places. In 1952, the terms of the Foundation were extended to the sons of deceased officers in the other armed forces.  

Our questionnaire did contain a question about the Foundation. Most of our respondents had some awareness of it:  

‘It appeared that some 25% of boys had lost a parent to the war.’ Peter Davison (Beresford 1948-52) 

‘It was never discussed, but at that post war period I think about 20% of boys were Foundationers if not more.’ Nigel Hamley (Hill 1952-55) 

In fact these figures are slightly inaccurate – Foundationers never made up more than 11% of the school population during this period, although the total number who were fatherless may well have been more.  

The overwhelming feeling from our respondents was that they had no knowledge of which of their contemporaries were Foundationers:  

‘I was not a Foundationer and I don’t know who was or was not.’ Charles Wade (Lynedoch 1947-50) 

‘I was not a Foundationer and I would not know who the Foundationers were.’ Robert Wilkinson (Anglesey 1947-50) 

‘I don’t think I could name one Foundationer who was at College with me.’

Douglas Miller (Benson 1951-56) 

Some were unaware even of the concept:  

‘I did not even know such a thing existed.’ John Alexander (Talbot 1954-58) 

‘I do not remember that term and am not clear what it means?’ Anonymous

‘I was not aware of their existence.’ Allen Molesworth (Blücher  1945-48)   

Others were more conscious, but found that it made no difference:  

‘I knew of only one. The Foundation was a marvellous help to his widowed mother.’ John Flinn (Combermere 1944-49) 

‘I was not a Foundationer, though many of my friends were as we were there just after WWII.’ Sam Osmond (Hill 1946-51)  

‘I never encountered any discussion of the issue, though was aware of the position. I assume there were many Foundationers at that time, though am pretty sure I never knew of one personally.’ Nikolai Tolstoy-Miloslavsky (Stanley 1949-53) 

‘I only knew one Foundationer, whose parents had been good friends of my parents. His father had been killed at Dunkirk.’

Richard Craven (Hill 1950-54) 

‘I wasn’t, but some of my friends were. I don’t think we thought of ourselves as in any way different.’ David Ward (Hopetoun 1954-58) 

And some only found out later:  

‘In my last year, four of us in the Combermere discovered by chance that we were all Foundationers.’ Robert Longmore (Combermere 1938-43)   

‘Much later I discovered that two of my lasting Wellington friends were Foundationers.’

Christopher Capron (Benson 1949-54) 

One was even unsure of his own status: 

‘I honestly don’t know whether I was a Foundationer or not. I must have been eligible, as my father had been killed in 1942. The Indian Army, to which he belonged, was notoriously slow at paying pensions, and I was aware that, as a family, we were very hard up. I cannot think how my mother could have afforded the College fees without the aid of a Foundation.’ Hugo White (Hardinge 1944-48) 

In fact, College records show that although Hugo’s mother applied for Foundation places for Hugo and his brother, the family later decided that the assistance was not required. They did, however, benefit from the Reduced Rate fees offered to the sons of Army officers. 

Several summarised the general attitude:  

‘We were generally unaware of the identity of the Foundationers, though we knew that a number of boys had lost their fathers in the War.’ Alan Munro (Talbot 1948-53) 

‘I’m not sure we really knew who they were. I hope they were not singled-out in any way. I don’t remember any perceived differences. Maybe it was too soon after the War. We certainly knew whose dads had been killed. I hope they were Foundationers.’ Anonymous 

‘We were not exactly aware of them as a set; but the ones we did know we all had a feeling of sorrow for them having lost a father.’

Anonymous 

Nevertheless, another anonymous contributor remarked that ‘Foundationers did not tell anyone that they were fatherless.’ 

But overwhelmingly, all commented that: 

‘There were no perceived differences.’ John Thorneycroft (Benson 1953-58) 

‘No noticeable differences.’ Peter Gardner (Hardinge 1946-51) 

‘There were no distinctions.’ Alan Munro (Talbot 1948-53) 

‘Certainly all were treated the same.’ 

Anthony Bruce (Benson 1951-56) 

‘The pocket money limit was rigorously enforced, and with hindsight I feel this was an excellent rule. I had no idea about the financial background of any of my friends and others, so that there was never any distinction between us on grounds of wealth or social status.  I do remember overhearing someone saying that a boy called Barclay came of a rich family, and that was it.  Although Wellingtonians were plainly part of a privileged class in the country overall, distinctions of wealth and privilege in our backgrounds played little or no part among us.’ Nikolai Tolstoy-Miloslavsky (Stanley 1949-53)  

But what of the Foundationers themselves? What was their experience? Nine of them responded to our questions, all positively.

Peter Rickards (Murray 1947-52) gave a striking account of the circumstances of his Foundationer status: 

‘As a British Army family we were living in India. I had last seen my father as he left India for the North African campaign in 1940. I was then six years old. The family returned to England by sea via South Africa in 1942. My father was killed in Italy in 1943.’    

As with most Foundationers, the fund payed for a year or two at prep school, as well as his time at Wellington:  

‘Wellington’s sponsorship to St. Neots Preparatory School at Eversley required me to learn enough Latin and French to bring me up to par in these subjects. This meant a six-month period of intense study with a private tutor, whose method of motivating his students was by liberal application of his walking stick to their backsides.’ 

His conclusion was that: 

‘There was never any differentiation, by boys or staff, between Foundationers and non-Foundationers.  If the subject of fees ever came up, there was a general acknowledgement that Foundationers, in losing their fathers to the nation, had already paid a high price for being at Wellington.’ 

Others agreed:  

‘Absolutely no difference was made in treatment or facilities between us and others, and nothing was ever said or done to indicate that we were “charity boys.”’ Robert Longmore (Combermere 1938-43) 

‘I certainly didn’t feel “different” or discriminated against in any way.’ 

Jeremy Watkins (Blücher  1951-55) 

‘There were no perceived differences between us and non-Foundationers. But one tended to discover one’s fellow Foundationers and become friends with them, because our circumstances were similar – i.e., we were fatherless (though a few had stepfathers).’ Christopher Miers (Beresford 1955-59) 

‘I was a Foundationer, and only dimly aware of it at the time. I was totally oblivious of any differences, if there were any, between us and the rest.’  Michael Mathew (Murray 1956-60) 

A few mentioned minor differences:  

‘Being a Foundationer had only one effect in all my years: I was issued a second-hand psalm book. I could never understand this extraordinary cost-saving device!’ Thomas Courtenay-Clack (Hardinge 1954-59) 

‘One of my best ‘chums’ was Sir William Young Bt, with whom I enjoyed a very pleasant relationship. The fact that he had several thousand pounds available to him whilst I was lucky in having the £1 a week that my godfather gave me, made no difference. The only times when I felt the difference was when I could not “splash out” at Grubbies when I felt that it was my turn to do so.’ Jerry Yeoman (Anglesey 1955-59) 

And some expressed retrospective gratitude for their experience:  

‘The Foundation is what got me to Wellington and I am forever grateful for it. To qualify, I had to study Greek and take an exam. The time frame was short and my prep school Latin teacher not the greatest at Greek, so it was a fraught experience and my resulting test score was 3%! Wellington let me in anyway. Thank you Wellington!’ Thomas Courtenay-Clack (Hardinge 1954-59) 

‘I was a Foundationer, my father having died in the War in 1943, and I shall be eternally grateful to College for having this wonderful facility. Surely without it, I would never have had all the opportunities in life that I have been so fortunate in experiencing.’ Jerry Yeoman (Anglesey 1955-59) 

‘I was a Foundationer, and I am very grateful for that.’

Christopher Miers (Beresford 1955-59) 

If Foundationers were treated no differently to others, there were still some students who stuck out for other reasons:  

‘One student who I got to know quite well was “Stump” Anderson. He was an American who came to Wellington on a one-year exchange programme established by the College.  Stump was brought up in the rough part of a New England town. He told me that the only rule at his school was that you weren’t allowed to have a knife with a blade that was more than 4 inches long. As his nickname implies, Stump was short, very stocky and probably pretty tough as he played ice hockey at school. Somebody at Yale had told him that if he survived the one year at Wellington, they would give him an ice hockey scholarship and free education. His arrival in England was reported by the Daily Mirror, who put his photograph on their front page the following day. It showed Stump wearing huge horn-rimmed glasses and garish cross-checked clothes and smoking a huge cigar. I can’t imagine what the Master must have thought had he seen the photograph or read the article that accompanied it. Stump found life in England and Wellington difficult and lonely. So, sometimes, usually on Sundays, we would walk to one of the more remote parts of the College grounds so that Stump could have a cigar. He didn’t survive his year and, as far as I know, returned to the US.’ Chris Heath (Beresford 1948-53) 

‘In another social experiment, the Labour government paid for a student from a state secondary school in South Wales to join the College. He was a cheerful lad who nevertheless found the going hard and did not stay the full course. Full of enterprise and with a mechanical bent he started a successful, if noisy, trade in vintage motorcycles, based in the woods adjacent to the House.’ Alan Munro (Talbot 1948-53) 

These exceptions aside, Wellington students of the era were a generally homogenous body, with little ethnic or social diversity. Roger Ryall (Picton 1951-56) gave the matter some thought:  

‘Where did Wellingtonians come from in the 1950s? The answer, simply, was the professional middle classes. Mostly, they were not wealthy people but could be described as “comfortably off”. Many were from service families, some from families still serving the remains of Empire overseas, and some from the professions. A few came from the City and business.  

Wellingtonians were routinely addressed by their surnames. Only one’s closest contemporaries in one’s house or dormitory were addressed by Christian names. Men beyond school age were all addressed as “Sir”. 

We spoke an unaccented received English. I do not recall the use of swear words at all. A typical retort to a contemporary whom one deemed to be talking nonsense might be “My dear good sir?” This phrase was much in use at the time but would be regarded today as the height of affectation.  

Wellington in the 1950s was definitely not a tough school. It had a benign, easy-going, friendly atmosphere and was a very nice place to be. It seemed to be administered, as far as it was administered at all, mainly by the boys themselves, with a code of behaviour that was followed because “that was what you did”! …. Very civilised for the era.’ 

Robert Waight (Orange 1942-46) also looked back with some evaluation: 

‘We came from all over the United Kingdom. Some had lived all their lives abroad until war forced their repatriation. Amongst us were the offspring of aristocrats, of senior and not so senior Army officers, civil servants, artists, actors, writers and a wide range of other professions. Those of us who were sons of soldiers felt a bit special, a bit different – ready in an unreasoned, automatic way to serve our country in some way or other. Really though, we were mostly middle-class and unexceptional. Only with our closest friends, and then incidentally, did we discuss our parents’ professions, status or “circumstances.” We felt it was not done, and anyway it was all very boring.  

Outsiders saw us as an exclusively Army, or at least a military, school. We certainly did not see ourselves as such and I think we were probably right.  

As a breed, we were naughty, noisy and untidy, sporting expensive items of our fathers’ wardrobes on inappropriate occasions. We were also adventurous, honourable, amazingly trustworthy, responsible when in charge, and more respectful to the staff than they may have deserved.’ 

Some respondents commented on the friends they had at Wellington, or boys they remembered, some of whom had later become well-known. Unsurprisingly, these were most often in the same Dormitory.  

‘In the Orange, those I remember best are James Faithfull, an all-round sportsman, and the prolific Miles family. Jeremy Sayers was a brilliantly clever boy, whom I remember for a verse he contributed to the Wellingtonian magazine:  

A conical barnacle 

Wearing a monocle 

Went to the medical 

Part of the oracle. 

They said, “We’re not cynical 

But you’re a physical miracle.” 

Jeremy sat near to Peter Snow in class, the two cleverest boys in the school.’ Michael Llewellyn-Smith (Orange 1952-57) 

‘There were three other new boys in the Talbot that term: John Jefferis, Mike Marwood and Robert Graham. I became particularly friendly with John Jefferis, and he became one of my life-long friends. 

Of the seniors in the Talbot when I was there, the head of house in my first two terms was David Somerset, who later became Chief Cashier of the Bank of England, and it was his name on a bank-note which promised “to pay the bearer…,” while Geoffrey de Bellaigue became a very senior official in the Foreign Office, and quite often appeared in the newspapers making statements. 

There was another boy in the Talbot whom I remember with gratitude – “Dunky” Latham (I’ve no idea where he got the name from): he introduced me to the novels of Caryl Brahms and S J Simon, which I still find extremely funny. One of them, No Bed for Bacon, contained the germ from which, some sixty years after it was written, the film Shakespeare in Love grew. (I’ve just finished re-reading No Bed…, it forms part of my “comfort reading” library).’ Alastair Wilson (Talbot 1948-1950) 

Some commented particularly on the lasting friendships they had made at College, or renewed after many years:  

 ‘In our group was John Previte, still one my closest friends…’ Bryan Stevens (Blücher  1948-52)  

‘Martin Miles and I resumed contact in 2019 after a gap of some sixty years.’

Michael Llewellyn-Smith (Orange 1952-57) 

‘As a shy introvert I don’t make friends easily, but one of the things I really valued about my time at Wellington was the friendships I made there. There were five other friends in Hardinge that I was particularly close to, but we lost touch after I left Wellington.  When the 13^th Wellington College Register came out in 2016, I was able to contact all five and so far have visited with four of them, and we picked up where we had left off as if there had been no sixty-year gap.  This is particularly remarkable because I live in Western Canada, one lives in Western Australia and the other three in England.’ Graeme Shelford (Hardinge 1954-57) 

Alexander Desta 

One Wellington pupil of the 1950s was mentioned by more respondents than anyone else. Highly unusual at the time as a black student, Iskinder Desta (known at Wellington as Alexander) was a grandson of Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia. He was universally popular with his Wellington contemporaries: 

‘We enjoyed our close friendships with boys from all backgrounds and from around the world. Two of my friends were Prince Sahle Selassie and Prince Alexander Desta of Ethiopia. My father had been a part of the Ethiopian Campaign in 1940-41 that had restored the Emperor Haile Selassie to his throne.’ Peter Rickards (Murray 1947-52) 

‘I spent many afternoons chatting in the fencing hut with Prince Alexander Desta (Blücher 1948), grandson of Emperor Haile Selassie of Abyssinia.’ Tim Reeder (Picton 1949-53) 

‘With one exception, I can’t remember the names of any of my classmates… The one person I do remember by name though was Prince Alexander Desta.

In fact, he was probably the only one in the form who really had class.’

Chris Heath (Beresford 1948-53) 

‘…the occasion in one of Mr Horsley’s lessons when Alexander Prince Desta of Ethiopia – Desta to us – asked to be excused for a call of nature and was allowed to leave on the injunction to be quiet. He did, and returned very shortly, relieved but out of breath, and sat firmly down at his desk – only to instantly leap back to his feet with a piercing yell, and unzip and then rezip his trouser fly. We all realised that fly zips are only a hazard if you are going commando.’ John Berger (Benson 1949-52) 

‘For Latin I sat next to Alexander Desta in the Bim Fourth.

The usher tried hard to teach us, tapping us on the head with a broken billiard cue when declining Latin verbs. Alexander and I became friends, with him coming to the Beresford to teach us how to walk gracefully across a desert.  

With Alexander we formed a Club to investigate the world of business, which necessitated special trips to manufacturing companies such as Huntley & Palmer and Serpells Biscuits (lots of free samples). In addition, Alexander called on the Ethiopian Embassy to send us the embassy car, to make visits to London art galleries. There we obtained a catalogue at the front door in order to provide evidence of attending … although in fact we had spent the intervening time enlarging our education in other areas!’ Peter Davison (Beresford 1948-52)