The misgivings of the Classics were justified. The Moderns did not accept their victory at Elections with a meekness which augured harmony for the coming half.
On the contrary, they executed that difficult acrobatic feat known as going off their heads, with jubilation.
For many terms they had groaned under a sense of inferiority, partly imagined but partly well founded, in their relations with the rival side. The Classics had given themselves airs, and, what was worse, proved their right to give them. In its early days the Modern side was not "in it" at Fellsgarth. Its few members were taught to look upon themselves as altogether a lower order of creation than the pupils of the old foundation, and had accepted the position with due humility. Then certain rebellious spirits had arisen, who dared to ask why their side wasn't as good as any other? The answer was crushing. "What can you do? Only French, and book-keeping and ‘stinks'" — (the strictly Classical nickname for chemistry).

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