The Joy of Research

I spent the past several weeks reading everything I could about Eton College from people who were there during the 1860s. I also spent hours looking at photos and maps to get a sense of the topography of the place. I had been to Windsor in 1980 so I had a sense of the architecture of the area and the influence of the Thames on the surrounding countryside.

The end result of merging the reality of modern Eton and reading about the past Eton is that suddenly scenes rush out at me, the gravel underfoot feels real, the damp air off the Thames casts a haze over the town, the creak of a boarding-house hallway is muffled by the old seasoned wood scuffed by thousands of shoes. I can hear the scrape of chairs and the clatter of a dozen youngsters responding to a call, see the moss on the brown brick buildings, smell the crushed grass and mud on the playing fields.

Now I can write about the place. Now my characters can breathe there. They are not as homesick or unhappy as I once thought they would be. They have a freedom the modern scholar does not. The threats to empire are only beginning to move towards the disaster of the great wars. The friendships they form there are enduring. I don’t know yet if the enemies they make will be equally long-lasting. Only time will tell.

But that time is already past. It is strange to write about events of 150 years ago. Whatever the characters have done they are of no consequence now. Even though they are not real people, it still makes me sad. Maybe I had better write a happy ending for them.

Amy