Today marks the 2025 Durham School Speech Day, transposed to a slightly earlier date in May rather than the typical June commemoration. In its original Victorian state, the emphasis was on the various 'speeches' given by students, typically extracts from Shakespeare, Livy, Ovid, or other famous poets. Sometimes these Speech Days would lean in to their classical Greek or Latin roots, with students in costume performing scenes from Plautus. On the 1881 Speech Day Big School was arranged to resemble an arcadian paradise: "Garlands of ivy were hung round the walls, and the boards of honour were neatly and artistically decorated with flowers and plants; whilst the gallery over the platform was covered with evergreens, decorated with a shield containing the arms of the School, and surrounded by oars, cricket bats, &c. Dr. Holden's seat, on the right of the platform, had been twined into a floral bower, in which geraniums figured conspicuously."

The first Speech Day was in 1861 and was instituted by then Headmaster Henry Holden. Mandell Creighton, the future Bishop of London, was a student at the time, and at that year's Speech Day he spoke part of his prize-poem 'Sicily' as well as Macauley's Lay of Horatius. Creighton was also the first to write and recite the excellent 'Epilogue', which, initially, was entirely in Latin. Extending from the beginnings of Speech Day until 1938, the Epilogue was a witty poetry recital in rhyming couplets, usually performed by the school monitors, that summarised the events of the School year, occasionally jabbing light-heartedly at the principal guest. Many of these were written by Edward Kirby (1863-1904), the OD who also wrote the School Song. Kirby's Epilogues "were written with an insight, a freshness, a sympathy, which proved that his Dunelmian patriotism was keen and active always." It is a tradition that I am sorry has gone as the collected Epilogues make very interesting reading. The years' events were thus summarised in interesting ways; in 1904, for example, the Music Rooms were built with a Physics Laboratory in the place of the current Music Studio. To quote from that year's Epilogue: 

"This year, with Winter's record floods and rain, 

And Summer's record sunshine, in its train 

Has brought events most notable; has seen 

New buildings rise where Science shall be queen, 

And each musician have a padded home…" 

In 1911, the Epilogue commented on the rise of numbers and the lack of space: 

"Numbers keep up—the problem is the stowing

When either house is full to overflowing. 

If things go on as now, beyond a doubt, 

Some of us will be driven to camping out." 

The humour of the Epilogue came through in the 1864 Speech Day, which imagined a conversation between two disappointed members of the audience:

"'The thing has been a failure this year, quite,'

One lady said; her friend replied, 'You're right: 

Fancy! For this I put on my best bonnet,

Fresh from Mrs. Puncheon's! Out upon it!

So tame, so feeble everything has been, 

They've not been drilled this year, that's plainly seen. 

Why, what a goose that Dr. H. must be 

To ask an educated company 

To hear such ranting, raw, rough-spoken boys! 

Speeches, forsooth! Their right name is a noise.'" 

Events in the wider world frequently formed a part of the Epilogue. In 1921, it opened by coyly referring to the formation of a coalition government, the miners' strikes, the Irish War of Independence, and the uncertainty of German war reparations: 

"'Tis true Lloyd George has changed his coat, 

And slipped into the Tory boat.

The miners, too, -- but why pursue? 

You know there's been a strike or two.

And Ireland's plight—But by Saint Pat,

It's safer not to talk of that! 

Then Germany, will she fulfil 

Her promises to pay the bill? 

But these are themes for Fleet Street's Muse,

For Durham School they're little use; 

Such art is long; our time fleeting, 

Maybe we'd best begin our greeting." 

Eventually these evolved into a 'Prologue' and 'Epilogue', with the former aimed directly at the Guest of Honour and the latter providing a more general overview of the year. The final Epilogue was, tellingly, that of 1939; after that light, poetical summaries of the year gone seemed inappropriate. The final poem, written in that golden summer of '39 where the world collectively held its breath, hints at the tragedy that would unfold: 

"Since last we met, we've moved apace,

For sure 'tis pioneer's task 

To survey each his neighbour's face

Embedded in a gas-mask; 

And though we really cannot say 

That Beauty's stream runs purer, 

We hope our looks will spread dismay

And 'vernichten den Fuhrer.' 

So thus we learn—and live, we hope,

'Neath Peace's ample pinions

(Assisted by a gun or so,)

In case Dictators' minions

Shall try a gamble vile with Fate, 

(As is their manner vexing,) 

And raise aloft the flag of Hate

And risk again 'annexing'."