THE SCHOOL BOARD--RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION--SCHOOL INSPECTIONS--DEAN FARRAR--COMPULSORY EDUCATION

“Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much;
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.”
COWPER.

When I came to Aldington I found that by the energy of the Vicar an elementary school had been built and equipped, and was working well under the voluntary system. I accepted the post of treasurer at his invitation, but as time went on financial difficulties arose, as the Education Department increased their requirements. The large farmers were being gradually ruined by foreign competition, and the small market-gardeners, in occupation of the land as it fell vacant, could not be induced to subscribe, although their own children were the sole beneficiaries. A voluntary rate was suggested, but met with no general response, one old parishioner announcing that she didn’t intend “to pay no voluntary rate until she was obliged”!

Matters were getting desperate when Vicar No 2 arrived, and it soon became evident that the voluntary system had completely broken down. A School Board was the only alternative, and, as all the old managers refused to become members and no one else would undertake the responsibility, a deadlock ensued. We were threatened by the Education Department that, failing a Board of parishioners, they would appoint for the post any outsiders, non-ratepayers, who could be induced to volunteer. The prospect was not a pleasant one, and on the invitation of a deputation of working men, I agreed to stand (chiefly, perhaps, in my own interests, as the largest ratepayer in the parish, with the exception of the Great Western Railway Company), and others eventually came forward.

The Board was constituted, and we were rather a three-cornered lot: my co-warden; a boot and shoemaker in Evesham, with land in Badsey; a carpenter and small builder; three small market-gardeners and myself. I was elected chairman, and we obtained the services of an excellent clerk, who held the same office for the Evesham Board of Guardians a capable man, and well up in the forms and idiosyncrasies of the Board of Education. Our designation was “the United District School Board of Badsey, Aldington, and Wickhamford.” It was not easy to discover the qualifications of all the members from an educational point of view; some at least represented the village malcontent section, now getting rather nervous as to School Board rates. And there was a talkative section who illustrated the truth of the old proverb, “It is not the loudest cackling hen that lays the biggest egg,” and of, perhaps, the still more expressive, “It’s the worst wheel of the waggon that makes the most noise.” One, at any rate, was definitely qualified “He knowed summat about draining!” The majority were conspicuous as economists in the matter of probable school expenditure, and it appeared later that two, if not three, of the members were unable to write their own names, so that sometimes we could not get the necessary number of signatures to the cheques, when some of the more efficient members happened to be absent.

Early in our existence as a United Board, one of the economists made a little speech in which he propounded the theory that “our first duty is to the ratepayers”; but I could not help suggesting that, as a legally appointed body, we were bound to obey the law beyond all other considerations, and corrected his dictum, with all respect, by substituting that “our first duty is to the children.” I must do him the justice to say that he accepted my suggestion in a complimentary manner.

It soon became evident that it is not always desirable to belong to a parish grouped with others under a United District School Board. Aldington possessed the largest rateable value with the lowest population, which was about equal to Wickhamford with the lowest rateable value; and Badsey, with by far the largest population, came between Aldington and Wickhamford as to rateable value the obvious result being that Aldington was called upon to pay an excessive and unfair share of the cost of educating Badsey’s children. We did not, however, want a school in our quiet village; it is something to get rid of children when inclined to be noisy, so we did not grumble at a little extra expense.

We carried on the school at first in the old building, but very soon the Department began to press for a larger and better-equipped establishment. Many of their requirements we considered unnecessary in a country village, and put off the evil day as long as possible, with such phrases as, “The matter is under consideration,” or, “Will shortly be brought to the notice of the Board.” Like “retribution,” however, the Education Department, “though leaden-footed, comes iron-handed,” and when all other methods failed they always put forward as a final inducement to comply with their demands the threat of withholding the Government grant; so that, in spite of the shoemaker’s encomium, that “Our chairman has plenty of com_bat_iveness,” we had eventually to give way.

At the outset it was decided to admit the Press; our meetings were generally expected to afford some spicy copy for readers of the local papers, but I am pleased to think that both reporters and readers were disappointed. Some of our neighbours had given us specially lively specimens of the personalities indulged in at the meetings of their local bodies, Boards of Guardians, and Councils notably, at that time, those of Winchcombe and Stow-on-the-Wold, where these exhibitions appeared to form a favourite diversion. It is a mistake for such a Board as ours to admit reporters; the noisy members are apt to monopolize the speaking, to the exclusion of the more useful and more thoughtful; the former play to the gallery to the extent of visibly addressing themselves to the reporters instead of to the chairman, as is proper.

The first point we had to consider was the acquisition of a suitable site for the new buildings, the old site not affording space to enlarge the premises or for the addition of a master’s house. We were lucky to get the offer of an excellent position, allowing not only space for all the buildings in contemplation, but ample room for future enlargements, which it was evident would be needed before many more years. I was requested, with another member, to interview the vendor’s solicitors, and we were empowered to make the best bargain we could arrange for the site.

We concluded the purchase, and congratulated ourselves upon the acquisition of a central and in every way desirable site, with a long road frontage, for the very moderate sum of, I think, L90. On reporting to the Board at our next meeting, the sum appeared large to some of the more simple members, and they were inclined to be dissatisfied, until I told them that I was prepared to appropriate the bargain myself, and they could find another for the school. This settled the matter, and, I suppose, at the present time the site would fetch two or three times what it cost us.

Plans and specifications were now necessary, and from inquiries I had made I was able to suggest an architect with much experience in school buildings. He appeared before the Board later, and was subjected to many questions from the members, of which I only remember one that appealed to me as original: “Do you pose before this Board as an economical architect?” We soon had the work in train, but, of course, before any active steps were taken, all our proposals were submitted to, and approved by the Education Department.

The question of religious instruction became urgent, and I was pleased and surprised at carrying a unanimous resolution through the Board although it included some Nonconformists that the Vicar (No 2), who had declined to be nominated as a candidate for election, should be invited to undertake the religious instruction of the school. The Vicar consented, and the arrangement worked smoothly for some years. One day, later, a member rose, and inquired if the children were receiving religious instruction. “Yes,” I said. “Are the children taught science?” “Yes,” again. “Well,” said he, “how do you reconcile the fact, when religion and science are not in agreement?” Fortunately, I had been lately taking a course of Darwin, and I was able to refer him to the concluding lines of the Origin of Species. We debated the matter with some energy, but having made his protest, the member was satisfied to let the matter drop.

All went well thereafter until we were settled in the new building, and Vicar No 3 was in possession of the living. He was young and inexperienced in the conduct of a parish, and was imbued with ideas of what he considered a more ornate and elaborate form of worship. Innovations followed lighted candles over the altar and the appointment of a Server at the Communion Service. Almost immediately I heard objections from the villagers; they could not understand the necessity for a couple of dim candles in a church on a summer day, when the whole world outside was ablaze with the glory of the sun.

A member arose at a Board meeting, and began: “Mr. Chairman, I wish to draw the attention of the Board to the question of religious instruction in the school, for I reckon that our children are being taught a lot of Popery.” I could see that he had been in consultation with other members of the Board, and that he had a majority behind him. I tried hard to smooth matters over, but they had made up their minds, and he carried his resolution that, in future, the new Vicar should be authorized to enter the school for the purpose of religious instruction only one day a week! I think this small indulgence was accorded only as a result of my efforts in his favour, though I was by no means pleased with the innovations myself.

I put the matter before the Vicar, asking him if he thought his novelties were worth while in the face of the opposition of the village and the loss of his religious influence with the children. He would not go back from what, he said, he regarded as a matter of principle, and could not see that he was throwing away a unique opportunity, but he agreed to withdraw the unwelcome Server.

In spite of the fact that every detail of the new school building had been submitted to, and approved by, the Education Department, trouble began with an officious inspector, who on his first visit complained of the ventilation. An elementary school is never exactly a bed of roses, but we had a lofty building and classrooms, with plenty of windows, which could be adjusted to admit as much or as little fresh air as was requisite. We protested without result, and we had eventually to pull the new walls about and spend L20 on what we considered an uncalled-for alteration.

Our inspectors of schools varied greatly: some were quiet with the children and considerate with the teachers; others vindicated their authority by unnecessary fault-finding, upsetting the teachers and alarming the children. In the days of our voluntary school I have seen a room full of children in a state of nervous tension, and the mistress and pupil-teachers in tears, as the result of inconsiderate reprimands and irritable speech. My sympathies have been strongly aroused on such occasions with a child’s terror of being made an exhibition before the others. As a boy at Harrow, in the form of the Rev. F.W. Farrar, afterwards Dean of Canterbury, I had an unpleasant experience, though it was no fault of his and quite unintentional. The Russian Government had sent a deputation of two learned professors to England, to inquire into the educational system of the Public Schools, with the view of sending a member of the Royal family for education in this country. Among other schools, they visited Harrow, and Mr. Farrar’s form was one of those selected for inspection. It was the evening of a winter’s day, when, at the four o’clock school, we found two very formidable-looking old gentlemen in spectacles and many furs seated near the master’s desk. Great was the consternation, but Mr. Farrar was careful not to call upon any boy who would be likely to exhibit himself as a failure. I was seated near Mr. Farrar, at one end of a bench. He had a habit, when wanting to change his position, of moving quite unconsciously across the intervening space between his desk and this bench, and placing one foot on the bench close to the nearest boy, he would, with one hand, play with the boy’s hair, while he held his book in the other. With horror, I found him approaching, and shortly his hand was on my head, rubbing my hair round and round, and ruffling it in a fashion very trying to any boy who was neat and careful of his personal appearance. I could see the Russians staring through their spectacles at these proceedings; possibly they thought it a form of punishment unknown in Russia, and my feelings of humiliation can be imagined. Finally he gave me a smack on the cheek and retired to his desk, leaving my hair in a state of chaos, though he had not the least idea of having done anything which might appear unusual to the foreigners.

Dear “old Farrar"! as we irreverently called him it was an education in itself to be in his form. I had the uncommon privilege of moving upwards in the School at very much the same rate as he did as a master, though I fear for my school reputation none too quickly. He first kindled my admiration for the classic giants of English literature, more especially the poets, taught me to appreciate the rolling periods of Homer, and even the beauty of the characters of the Greek alphabet. He was a voluminous student of the best in every form of ancient and modern literature. He always kept a copy of Milton, his favourite poet I think, on his desk, and, whenever a passage in the Greek or Latin classics occurred, for which he could produce a parallel, quoted pages without reference to the book.

I recall my delight and pride when I was sent on two occasions to the headmaster, Dr. Butler, the late Master of Trinity, with copies of original verses; and the honour I felt it to inscribe them, at Mr. Farrar’s request, in a MS. book he kept for the purpose of collecting approved original efforts in the author’s own writing. For it was his habit once a week to give us subjects for verses or composition. A unique effort of the Captain of the School cricket eleven, C.F. Buller, comes back to me as I write; it did not however appear in the MS. book. The School Chapel was the subject, full of interest and stirring to the imagination, if only for the aisle to the memory of Harrow officers who fell in the Crimea. Buller’s flight of imagination was as absurd as it was impertinent:

“The things in the Chapel nonsense are,
Don’t you think so dear Farrar!”

Mr. Farrar, however, never took offence at such sallies. I remember, when he was denouncing the old “yellow back” novels, murmurs becoming audible, which were intended to reach him, of “Eric! Eric!” the title of his early school-boy story he only smiled in acknowledgment. And on an April 1st several boys who had plotted beforehand gazed simultaneously and persistently at a spot on the ceiling, until his eyes followed theirs unthinkingly in the same direction, when it occurred to him, as nothing unusual was visible, that it was All Fools’ Day. He was very playful and indulgent; he kept a “squash” racquet ball on his desk, and could throw it with accurate aim if he noticed a boy dreaming or inattentive. He would never when scoring the marks enter a 0, even after an abject failure, always saying, “Give him a charity 1!”

Boys are quick judges of sermons: if interested, they listen without an effort; if not interested, they cannot listen. Whenever Mr. Farrar’s turn came as preacher in the School Chapel there was a subtle stir and whisper of appreciation, “It’s Farrar to-day.” He was a natural orator. I can still hear his magnificent voice swelling in tones of passionate denunciation decreasing to gentle appeal, and dying away in tender pathos. This was education in the true sense of the word, and though I have wandered a long way from my immediate subject, I feel that the digression is not irrelevant in contrast with the mechanical instruction that goes by the name of education in the Board Schools. I cannot help recalling too that in the ancient IVth Form Room at Harrow, the roughest of old benches were, and I believe still are, considered good enough for future bishops, judges, and statesmen; while in the Board Schools expensive polished desks and seats have to be provided at the cost of the ratepayers to be shortly kicked to pieces by hobnailed shoes.

I was present at some amusing incidents in examinations at our village school. A small boy was commanded by an inspector to read aloud, and began in the usual child’s high-keyed, expressionless, and unpunctuated monotone: “I-have-six-little-pigs-two-of-them-are-white-two-of-them-are-black-an d-two-of-them-are-spotted.” “That’s not the way to read,” interposed the inspector. “Give me the book.” He stood up, striking an attitude, head thrown well back, and reading with great deliberation and emphasis: “I have six LITTLE PIGS; two of them are white! Two of them are black! and (confidentially) two of them are spottered!”

I once picked up an elementary reading book in the school, and read as follows: “Tom said to Jack, ’There is a hayrick down in the meadow; shall we go and set it on fire?’” And so on, with an account of the conflagration, highly coloured. So much for town ideas of the education of country children; the suggestion was enough to bring about the catastrophe, given the opportunity and a box of matches.

Some of the inspectors were very agreeable men; they occasionally came to luncheon at my house, and I once asked where the best-managed schools were to be found. The reply was, “In parishes where the voluntary schools still exist, and the feudal system is mildly administered.”

Our villagers, reading of the large sums that we were obliged to expend in response to the requirements of the Education Department, and finding the consequent rates a burden, began to think of economy and nothing but economy, so that though I had expected them to be only too anxious to provide the very best possible education for their own children, it came as a surprise that this was quite a subordinate aim to that of keeping down the cost. And this was the more unexpected, as the main cost fell upon the large ratepayers, like myself and the railway company and the owners of land and cottages rented rate-free. At the next election several of these economists became candidates, with the result that many of the original members including myself were not returned, in spite of the fact that our well-planned and well-built schools were erected at a lower cost per child than any in the neighbourhood. I was not sorry to escape from the monotony of listening to interminable debates as to whether a necessary broom or such-like trifle should be bought at one shilling or one and threepence. For this was the kind of subject that the Board could understand and liked to enlarge upon, while really important proposals were carried with little consideration. As a matter of fact, members of a School Board are no more than dummies in the hands of an inflexible Department, and are appointed to carry out orders and regulations without the power of modification, even when quite unsuitable for a country village school.

There was some little excitement at the election; one of the members of the old Board had been called “an ignoramus,” in the stress of battle, and being much concerned and mystified asked a neighbour what the term signified, adding, no doubt thinking of a hippopotamus, that he believed it was some kind of animal! His knowledge of zoology was probably as limited as that disclosed by the following story:

A menagerie was on view at Evesham, to the great joy of many juveniles as well as older people, for such exhibitions were not very common in the town. Very early next morning, a farmer, living about two miles from Aldington, was awakened by a shower of small stones on his bedroom window. Looking out he saw his shepherd in much excitement and alarm. “Oh master, master, there’s a beast with two tails, one in front and one behind, a-pullin’ up the mangolds, and a-eatin’ of ’em!” The farmer hurried to the spot and saw an African elephant which had escaped during the night; he was wondering how to proceed when two keepers appeared and the strange beast was led quietly back to the town.

As chairman of our School Board I early recognized among the members discoverers of mare’s-nests, who lost no opportunity of exhibiting their own importance by intruding such matters into the already overflowing agenda, and my method of dealing with them was so successful, though I believe not original, that it may be found useful by those called upon to preside over any of the multitudinous councils now in existence. Whenever the member produced his cherished discovery generally very shadowy as to detail I proposed the appointment of a subcommittee, consisting of him and his sympathizers, to inquire into the matter, and report at the next Board meeting. In this way I shunted the bother of the investigation of usually some trifle or unsubstantiated opinion on to his own shoulders, so that, when he realized the time and trouble involved, he became much less interested, and we heard very little more of the subject.

I suppose that everybody living in a country parish, who can look back over the period of fifty years of compulsory education, would agree that the results are insignificant in comparison with the effort, and one cannot help wondering whether, after all, they justify the gigantic cost. We appear to have tried to build too quickly on an insecure foundation. Nature produces no permanent work in a hurry, and Art is a blind leader unless she submits to Nature’s laws. The pace has been too great, and the fabric which we have reared is already showing the defects in its construction.

How otherwise can we account for the littleness of the men representing “the people,” who have been rushed into the big positions, and for the vulgarity of the present age? Vulgarity in public worship; vulgarity in the manners, the speeches, and the ideals of the House of Commons; vulgarity in “literature,” on the stage, in music, in the studio, and in a section of the Press; vulgarity in building and the desecration of beautiful places; vulgarity in form and colour of dress and decoration. We are far behind the design and construction of the domestic furniture of 150 years ago, and we have never equalled the architecture of the earliest periods, for stability and stateliness.

The skim milk seems to have come to the top and the cream has gone to the bottom, as the result of the contravention of the laws of evolution, and the failure to perceive the analogy between the simplest methods of agriculture, and the cultivation of mentality. We have expected fruit and flowers from waste and untilled soil; we sowed the seed of instruction without even ploughing the land, or eradicating the prominent weeds, and we are reaping a crop of thistles where we looked for figs, and thorns where we looked for grapes. The seed scattered so lavishly by the wayside was devoured by the fowls of the air; that which was sown upon the stony places, where there was not much earth, could not withstand the heat of summer; and that which fell among thorns was choked by the unconquered possessors of the field. A little, a very little, which “fell into good ground brought forth fruit, some an hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold”; and therein lies our only consolation.

The educational enthusiasts of 1870 forgot that the material they had to work upon did not come from inherited refinement and intelligence; that it was evolved from a parentage content with a vocabulary of some 500 words; that there was little nobility of home influence to assist in the process of development; they crammed it with matter which it could not assimilate, they took it from the open country air and the sunshine, confined it in close and crowded school-rooms, and produced what we see everywhere at the present time, at the cost of physical deterioration a diseased and unsettled mentality.

I am aware that there are those who decline to admit any influence of mental heredity, and argue that environment is the only factor to be considered. In a clever and well-reasoned work on the subject I lately read, this proposition was substantiated by instances observable especially among birds brought up in unnatural conditions. The writer, however, entirely forgot the most conclusive piece of evidence in favour of mental heredity which it is possible to adduce namely, that of the brood of ducklings, who, in spite of the unmistakable manifestations of alarm on the part of a frantic foster-mother hen, take to the water and enjoy it on the very first opportunity.