Winchester, nor, on the other hand, had it a conscious policy
like Lancing, Wellington, and other purely modern foundations.
Where tradition served, it clung to them. Where new departures
seemed desirable, they were made. It aimed at producing the
average Englishman, and, to a very great extent, it succeeded.

Here Mr. Pembroke passed his happy and industrious life. His
technical position was that of master to a form low down on the
Modern Side. But his work lay elsewhere. He organized. If no
organization existed, he would create one. If one did exist, he
would modify it. "An organization," he would say, "is after all
not an end in itself. It must contribute to a movement." When one
good custom seemed likely to corrupt the school, he was ready
with another; he believed that without innumerable customs there
was no safety, either for boys or men.

Perhaps he is right, and always will be right. Perhaps each of us
would go to ruin if for one short hour we acted as we thought
fit, and attempted the service of perfect freedom. The school
caps, with their elaborate symbolism, were his; his the
many-tinted bathing-drawers, that showed how far a boy could
swim;
his the hierarchy of jerseys and blazers. It was he who
instituted Bounds, and call, and the two sorts of exercise-paper,
and the three sorts of caning, and "The Sawtonian," a bi-terminal
magazine. His plump finger was in every pie. The dome of his
skull, mild but impressive, shone at every master's meeting. He
was generally acknowledged to be the coming man.

His last achievement had been the organization of the day-boys.