As Allied forces fought their way into Germany in the closing months of the Second World War, Winston Churchill was forced to take time off from directing Britain’s war effort to attend to a crucial matter – the appointment of a new provost of Eton College.
Official files newly released to the National Archives show how – in war and in peace – successive prime ministers were required to break off, at least briefly, from the other matters of the day to consider the administration of the UK’s most exclusive public school.
Under Eton’s statute, the provost – who heads the board of governors known as the fellows – is appointed by the sovereign on the advice of the premier of the day.
I have however discussed the matter with the authorities and it seems clear that the King's permission is required— Anthony Bevir, No 10
So in October 1944, just than four months after the D-Day landings and less than a month after the failed operation by British airborne troops to secure the Rhine crossing at Arnhem, Churchill found himself presented with a dilemma closer to home – the shock resignation of the incumbent provost, Lord Quickswood.
Anthony Bevir, a No 10 official who advised on appointments, wrote: “There is no precedent for a resignation of a provost within recent memory, except that of Dr Warre who was too old and ill, and the resignation had to be arranged by motion of the fellows and the visitor of college.
“I have however discussed the matter with the authorities and it seems clear that the King’s permission is required though there need be no formal submission. May I therefore write to Sir Alan Lascelles (George VI’s private secretary) and ask for the King’s approval?”
That was not the end of it for the prime minister. It seems there was a plan to offer the post – which included a house in the college grounds – to Lord Gowrie, an old soldier and former governor of South Australia, but it had fallen through because he was not a graduate of Oxford or Cambridge.
In January 1945 amid continued heavy fighting in Europe and the Far East, Mr Bevir anxiously asked whether Churchill would be prepared to to allow the name of the vice provost Sir Henry Martens – a former tutor to the future Queen Elizabeth – to go forward instead?.
“I think the governing body would take it hard if you pressed them to amend the statute in order to make Lord Gowrie provost, much though they must respect his character,” he wrote.
“It has always been an academic post till now and to put in a soldier at 72 when he is getting infirm and there is a good deal of business connected with the the estates and with the school which he would have to learn, would not, I feel sure, be at all well-received.”
There was a further commotion in 1964, when The Sunday Telegraph reported that the then provost, Sir Claude Elliott, was resigning and that the permanent head of the Foreign Office, Sir Harold Caccia, was lined up to succeed him.
The No 10 appointments secretary John Hewitt informed prime minister Sir Alec Douglas-Home that he had sought to assure Sir Claude that the information had not leaked from Downing Street.
“Sir Claude has written to say that he was greatly surprised and annoyed when he saw this article and he agrees that the information must clearly have come from someone who knows a great deal, although he can make no sort of guess as to who it was,” he wrote.
Apparently alarmed, Sir Alec replied: “Sir H Caccia mentioned it. However occurred to me that he wouldn’t accept. Had I better see him?”
