Chapter III

In the account that I have given of Rowland Hill’s mental training, I have, in more than one place, been carried somewhat out of the regular course of my narrative. I must now return to the time when he was still a mere boy, and was as yet but little aware how boundless is the ocean of knowledge, on whose shores he had picked up but the tiniest of shells. He would not by any means have been accounted a forward child. In any school famous for learning he would have taken a low place. Nevertheless, his comrades had not failed to discover his peculiar power. One of his brothers thus writes about him:—

“My brother Rowland’s character is, to a considerable extent,
portrayed in the History of Penny Postage; and, amongst the
rest, his power of commanding success. But it may be well for
me to testify, relative to this quality, that he showed it
from a very early age. For myself, I can say that whenever I
knew that he had set an object before him, I felt sure that it
would be attained; and yet this was not from any high estimate
of his talents; for, being less than three years his junior,
and perhaps of a more sprightly and imaginative disposition, I
fear I was wont to assume in comparing his mental powers with
mine, and certainly did not soon recognise their high order.
Probably, if I analyzed my feeling at all, I based it chiefly
on belief in his perseverance. Again and again I had seen
work prosper in his hands, and had had few or no failures to
point to; whereas I knew that I was ever devising mighty plans
which came to nothing. His early performances were chiefly of
a mechanical nature, and diligent practice rendered him very
fertile in resources—a fact of which I was well aware years
before I could have designated the power by its proper term.”

It was in the management of the school theatre that this fertility in resources first became conspicuous. His younger brother, Arthur, had a strong dramatic turn, and was eager, like many another lad of thirteen, to strut and fret his hour upon the stage. Others he found ready to join him, and then for aid and advice he turned to Rowland, who was by two years his senior.

“The more I told them about the cost and other difficulties, the more anxious they grew as to the success of their enterprise, until at length, by their joint entreaty, I was prevailed on to assume the management; undertaking myself to paint the scenes, construct the machinery, and direct the whole course of action. I declined to become a performer, having no turn that way.”[35] The young company put their money into a common stock. The Manager recorded in his Journal:—“A code of laws was drawn up for the management of the theatre, and we were very exact in the observance of them. I was constituted manager, with power to appoint the different actors, and, under certain restrictions, to appropriate the funds in what way I pleased.”

It was in the summer of 1811 that they formed their plans; but it was not till the Easter of the following year that they were ready to give their first performance. Their difficulties were great. The school-room was to be their theatre; and in the school-room they could only work before the boys had risen, and after they had gone to bed. In the code of laws which governed the company, it was laid down that they should rise an hour before the usual time. Whatever scenery they set up had always to be taken down before lessons began. The room was long, but narrow, and not lofty enough to allow the scenes, at the time of shifting, to be drawn up. Not one of the company had ever been behind the curtain of a real theatre. Rowland, however, undertook to be architect, carpenter, scene-painter, and manager. He had, by this time, become most expert in the use of his tools. He was never so happy as when he was working in his carpenter’s shop. His knowledge of drawing and painting was also turned to good account. He began by carefully planning his work, and taking the most exact measurements. So accurately had everything been contrived beforehand, that when the scenes and their supports came to be put up they all fell at once into their proper places. The young company was greatly hampered by want of funds, and had from time to time to turn from the theatre to more than one plan of raising money. Among other “ways and means,” they set up a manufactory of fire-balloons, and gained some money by the tickets of admission that they sold to those who witnessed the ascent. At first they could only afford the simplest of materials for their scenes. These were painted on brown paper, the sheets being glued together. The side-scenes were painted on both sides, and revolved, in changing, on a pivot in the middle. Each season saw, however, an increase of magnificence, and some of the young artist’s scenery was so strongly made and so carefully painted that it has been in use even in the last few years.

Meanwhile, his younger brother was engaged in writing a tragedy, and in drilling his company. “Finding all dramas to which he had access far too long and difficult for his purpose, he boldly turned author; and parts were learned and scenes practised, though with considerable increase to inevitable difficulties, from the circumstance that the drama grew as the work proceeded, new thoughts striking the young dramatist, and new scenes being added for their development.” Thus _The Hostile Chieftains_, a tragedy founded on one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s tales, was written six times over. _The Tragedy of Nero_, as well befitted so great a subject, was the composition of three of the brothers working together. Even the manager, architect, carpenter, and scene-painter had found time to lend a hand. The first season opened with the performance of _The Rivals_, a tragedy, and not by Sheridan. It was witnessed with great applause by crowded audiences during its run of two nights. It was in the third season that _The Hostile Chieftains_ was performed. Meanwhile, no doubt as a necessary preparation for Mrs. Radcliffe, a trap-door had been made in the ceiling. A band of musicians also was formed. This was the last season of the little company, but it ended gloriously; for the play had a run of five nights.

In many other ways did the young lad show his ingenuity. He was the family carpenter, locksmith, and clock-cleaner. He even took to pieces and set to rights a watch which had been returned to the maker for repairs, but was sent back as faulty as ever. When he was sixteen Mr. Beasley projected a new piece of “utility”—a school-atlas—and called upon “his young friend, Rowland Hill,” to undertake the task of constructing the maps. “This was,” Rowland wrote in his Journal, a few years later, “a much greater undertaking than I at first imagined, owing to the great difference that exists in the works which it was necessary to consult. In a chart of the Mediterranean belonging to my father, Algiers is as much as three inches from its proper place.... I have given it up entirely. I could not be satisfied with copying from another map, and from the great number of books and maps which it was necessary to consult, I found that, with the little time I could devote to it, it must be the work of not less than ten or fifteen years.” He finished, however, the map of Spain and Portugal, which was published.

Three years later, when he was now nineteen, he gave still further proofs of his ingenuity:—

“In January, 1815, my father gave a lecture on electricity
to the Birmingham Philosophical Society, of which he was a
Fellow, I performing the experiments. At that period the means
of securing electrical action were either imperfect, or, at
best, not very generally known. A previous attempt (by another
Fellow of the Society) to give an illustrated lecture on the
subject had utterly failed; and it was confidently believed
by various members that, in the theatre of the institution
at least—whether because of the crowded audiences usually
attending the lectures, whether from insufficient ventilation,
or from some unknown cause—all further attempt was useless.
This stimulated my father to the effort, the more so as his
successful lectures, previously mentioned, had been given under
circumstances far more unfavourable. His credit was thus staked
upon the issue, and he resolved, and I with him, that no effort
should be spared to secure success. We carefully examined the
whole of the Society’s apparatus, and brought it into complete
order. Remembering an exhibition of constellations at one of
my father’s former lectures, I went to work to prepare more,
which I desired to make on a much larger scale; but glass,
the material on which the tinfoil was laid, being not only
inconveniently fragile, but at that time, on account of the
high duty, an expensive article, I tried the substitution of
cardboard, which fortunately I found to be, when quite dry,
a satisfactory non-conductor. Using this, I produced several
constellations of such size as to be well seen by a large body
of spectators; and, which delighted me even more, I so arranged
one, viz, that of the Great Bear, that while receiving the
spark it was kept in constant revolution. At length we got
everything to do well; but our elation at this preliminary
success was considerably checked by hearing that our
predecessor had thus far done as well as ourselves. This made
us very anxious, and our care was redoubled. Observing that
the lecture-table was covered with lead, surmounted with green
baize, and fearing that this combination would in some measure
rob our conductor (the nap acting as so many points), we
covered the whole with glazed brown paper; and again, anxious
lest any accumulation of electric influence, either in the
subjacent lead or elsewhere, might be troublesome, we crossed
the table with a number of wires, which, being first brought
into connection below, were passed through the floor, and
lastly, being thrust into the spout of a pump in the basement,
were brought into contact with the column of water within, so
as to make our conduction, or rather abduction, complete. We
also took advantage of a furnace, which had been set up behind
the lecture-table for chemical purposes, to diffuse as much
warmth as possible over our whole apparatus, that all dampness
might be kept away.

“At length the important night arrived, and, notwithstanding
all our precautions, we went to the lecture-room in great
trepidation. The clock struck seven, and the electrical
machine, which had been kept near a large fire in the
apparatus-room till the last moment, was carried in and
attached to the table. The lecture began, and the machine was
set in motion, while we stood in breathless anxiety to watch
the result. To our inexpressible relief we soon saw that it was
in full power; and experiment succeeded experiment without the
slightest failure. All had proceeded well till about the middle
of the lecture, when suddenly the rod of the winch, which,
with superfluous caution, had been made of glass, snapped in
two, and the machine was brought to a stand. Though enough had
been done to establish the success of our attempt, my father,
naturally anxious to complete his lecture, and remembering
that he was in the midst of a manufacturing town, inquired
earnestly whether any one present could furnish a substitute of
any description, however rude. One or two gentlemen immediately
disappeared, and, meantime, my own machine, which had been
brought as a provision against mishap, was used for some minor
experiments, for which its power well sufficed. While this was
going on my brother Edwin had carried the broken winch into
a small workshop on the premises, and, sawing off the leg of
a stool, had shaped this at the ends, fitted it to the winch
handle, and, returning to the room, attached it to the socket
on the axle of the machine, which again began to revolve, so
that when our kind friends returned with their substitutes
the necessity for them had passed away, and the lecture went
on swimmingly to the end; my Great Bear, which was, so far
as I know, a novelty, attracting particular attention, and
eliciting, contrary to the rule and usage of the society, a
round of applause.

“One of the loudest foreboders of evil consoled himself for
his error by remarking on the number of assistants ‘Hill’ had
had, adding that he had better have brought his wife and all
his family to help him. So trifling a circumstance would not
have been noticed here had it not touched the key-note of our
success. In our course through life, from the beginning to the
present hour, each one of us has been always ready to help
the others to the best of his power; and no one has failed to
call for such assistance again and again. Each one, I am sure,
recognises in this fact a main cause of such success as he has
attained; and I cannot too emphatically declare that to mine it
has been essential.

“In the following January my father gave a second and last
lecture on the same subject. Emboldened by our past success,
we proceeded to experiments involving greater risk of failure;
among others a thunder-cloud, which, to effect its discharge
(whereby a model building was to be blown up with gunpowder),
had to be moved by electric influence through a distance of
not less, I think, than eight or ten feet. But the crowning
illustration, with which the lecture concluded, was a revolving
planisphere of my construction, four feet in diameter, and
representing all stars, of not less than the fourth magnitude,
within forty degrees of the South Pole. Wishing that the
various magnitudes should appear in the illustration, I devised
an arrangement for that purpose. For producing the sparks to
represent stars of the first magnitude, I cut the approaching
edges of the tinfoil into a round shape, and placed them
about one-twelfth of an inch asunder; for those of the second
magnitude I gave the edges a pointed shape, also reducing the
space between them to a minimum; for stars of the third and
fourth magnitudes, while retaining the same arrangement, I
produced further obscuration by covering the one with a single
thickness, and the other with two thicknesses, of thin paper.
To represent the Magellanic clouds was a more difficult matter;
but here also I hit upon an expedient. Piercing the disc, in
the proper places, with holes proportionate to the size and
in the form of the respective nebulae, I placed behind each
hole in a plane parallel to that of the disc, and distant
about half an inch from it, a piece of paper somewhat more
than sufficiently large to correspond with the perforation;
and I so arranged that this paper was illuminated by sparks
at the back of the disc. When I add that the planisphere thus
illuminated was at the same time kept in constant and equable
revolution, I shall perhaps be regarded as justified in the
belief entertained at the time that the whole result was a
more exact representation of the starry heavens than had ever
before been produced. The applause previously given to my
Great Bear was more than redoubled on sight of my Southern
Sky, and the lecture terminated amidst the congratulations of
friends, my father being, of course, greatly pleased, myself
sufficiently elated, and the whole family triumphant. I may add
that a full description of my planisphere will be found in the
‘Philosophical Magazine’ for October, 1818.”[36]

In 1816 he devised and constructed an alarum water-clock:—

“As a complete description of this might weary the reader,
I will give only a general conception of its structure. As
already implied, the lapse of time was to be marked by the
flow of water, and the most obvious difficulty being to render
this equable, I employed for the purpose a floating syphon.
The tube, which was so fine as to pass only about three drops
per minute, was stuck through a flat piece of cork, which
floated on the surface of water in a tin can; and as the water
issued from the syphon it dropped into another can, though of
much smaller size, hung at one end of a balance; so that, as
this latter can filled, it became heavy enough to bear its own
end of the beam down, while the opposite end, being of course
tilted up, struck the trigger, which, as in ordinary alarums,
released the weight, thus setting the clapper in motion. Now
the length of time required to give the counterbalancing weight
of water depended, of course, on the amount of weight put on
the trigger-beam; and this was varied according to requirement,
principally by means of a sliding weight, hanging from the beam
as from a common steelyard. This sufficed so far as quarter
hours were concerned, additional means of some complexity being
used for securing the observance of smaller portions of time.
The end was that I could count on being called within three
or four minutes of the time fixed upon. In its early days,
however, I was sometimes annoyed by irregularity, and, upon
careful inspection, I perceived that this was caused by dust,
which, falling into the water, found its way into the syphon,
and impeded the flow. To remove this inconvenience, I enclosed
my alarum in a box, taking care also to change the water with
sufficient frequency. I remember that on the evening when I
first got the machine to work, not willing to leave my new
light under a bushel, I fetched up half-a-dozen boys into the
room where it stood, that they might see and admire. When I had
explained the mechanism, and arranged for a _réveille_ at the
end of a quarter of an hour, the boys sat down in expectation;
and probably being over-worked, according to our practice at
the time, one of them fell fast asleep. Great was my delight,
and great the amusement of his companions, when, at the end
of the time, this, the first person ever awakened by alarum
of mine, started up with a sudden exclamation of surprise and
alarm, showing that my little machine had effectually performed
its duty.

“I may here remark that for one machine that I executed there
were many that I devised. Thus I find the following entry in my
Journal about a year later:—

“‘_December 21st, 1817._—I also wish to make a model of
a boat to be driven by pumping [in] water at the prow
and forcing it out at the stern. This is an idea of my
father’s; and I think it will obviate the objection against
driving canal boats by machinery, which is that the paddles
agitate the water to such a degree as to injure the sides
of the canal’

“A few years later I set down another first conception,
this time of my own, which, however, I never carried
further. The record is as follows:—

“‘Steam vessels might be propelled by means of an endless
screw, something like a corkscrew with the wire flattened
in a direction perpendicular to the axis. There might
be several fixed at the sides, at the stern, &c. This
apparatus would work equally well whether altogether or
partly immersed in water. If one could be placed so as to
move like a rudder, it would be exceedingly efficient in
changing the direction of the boat.’”[37]

I find also in his Journal for the year 1817, the following record: “If I can find time, I intend to construct a model of an engine which I have long thought of. It is something similar to a steam-engine, only that it is to work by exploding a mixture of hydrogen and oxygen gases. Such an engine I think might be employed to advantage in driving carriages, as the gases might be condensed.” A few months later he writes: “During the Christmas vacation I tried a few experiments to ascertain the force of exploded oxygen and hydrogen when in combination, and found it to be so small that it cannot be applied to the purpose I intended; at least, that such an engine would be far more expensive than one to work by steam.”

Soon after he had finished his clock he undertook a very different piece of work. He had already taught himself the art of land-surveying. “I learned the art,” he wrote, “as best I could; I might almost say I found it out, for I had then no book on the subject, and my father had no special knowledge of the matter.” As was usual with him, he at once began to teach what he himself had learnt. With a class he measured and mapped the playground and some little of the neighbourhood. About this time a murder—famous in legal history—was committed within four miles of Hill Top, and at once roused a strong public interest.

“The name of the victim was Mary Ashford. Thornton, the man
charged with the crime, and whom the whole neighbourhood
believed to be guilty, got off at the trial by setting up an
_alibi_. So strong was the feeling excited by this escape,
that it was resolved to resort to the long-disused right of
appeal; and a subscription being speedily raised to defray
the expenses, the necessary proceedings were commenced. This
startling course brought the matter into the London papers,
and interest became general. Illustrated journals there were
none, but my drawing-master published a portrait of the poor
girl—taken, I suppose, after death—with a view of the pond in
which the body was found; and one of the Birmingham newspapers
(the _Midland Chronicle_) gave a rude plan of the ground on
which the chief incidents occurred. This, however, being
apparently done without measurement, and not engraved either on
wood or copper, but made up as best could be done with ordinary
types, was of course but a very imperfect representation. I
resolved to improve upon this, and, in conjunction with a
former schoolfellow, to whom, though he was much older than
myself, I was then giving private lessons in surveying, I led
my class to the spot, took the measurements, and constructed
a complete map, not merely of the spot where the murder was
committed, but of the neighbourhood, so far as to include the
place of the alleged _alibi_. This was published not only in
Birmingham but also in London, and we cleared about fifteen
pounds by the enterprise. It may be convenient to the reader to
add, though this has nothing to do with my story, that when the
case of appeal came before the Court of King’s Bench, Thornton,
throwing down his glove in due form, demanded wager of battle;
and as this barred all other measures, while of course the age
of ordeals was passed, the proceedings came to an end, and the
prisoner was released. However, he never again ventured to
show himself near the scene of his alleged crime. In the next
Session of Parliament an Act was passed abolishing wager of
battle, and with it the right of appeal. I remember that our
family verdict on the subject condemned the latter half of this
measure.”[38]

Rowland Hill’s map was copied by a dishonest tradesman:—

“Incensed at such rascally treatment,” he records in his
Journal, “I told my publisher I was determined to maintain
an action for damages against the man. On examining the Act
respecting the copyright of engravings, my brother Matthew was
fearful that we might not succeed in the event of a trial,
because we had not specified on the plate the exact day on
which it was published. It said ‘published,’ etc., ‘Nov.,
1817,’ I immediately had the plate altered before any more
impressions were taken; but as several had been sold of the
first kind, my brother thought that there would be some danger
in risking a trial.”

The inventions and schemes that I have described were rather the occupations of Rowland Hill’s few hours of leisure than the real work of his life. It was in school-work that he was closely engaged for long hours every day during many a year. His position was not a little trying. Had it not been for one side of his father’s character, it might have become unbearable. He and his brother Matthew, as they grew older and saw more of the outside world, had become more and more dissatisfied with the state of the school. They were both ambitious youths; and up to a certain age their chief ambition—at all events, their nearest ambition—was to make Hill Top a thoroughly good school. Before many years had passed, the elder brother was bent on making his way at the bar, while Rowland was thinking how he should reform the education of England—I might almost say, of the world. As his views widened with increasing years, he recorded in his Journal:—

“The beneficial effects which I every day see arise from the
improvements which have been introduced into the school, and
the acknowledged superiority of our system of education,
lead me to think that the combination of talent, energy, and
industry which exists in our family, directed as it is, with
few exceptions, to the science of education, may some time or
other produce effects which will render our name illustrious
in after ages. The more I mix with the world, the more insight
I have into the proceedings and opinions of other men, the
conviction is forced upon me that our family possesses talents,
and energy, and devotedness to one object, seldom to be met
with.... Our plans are calculated for large numbers, and to
obtain them is the present object of all our attention. Some of
us think that the best mode will be to attempt to induce the
public to establish a large school or college for the education
of the children of the upper and middle classes. Other members
of the family are afraid that in so doing we may risk our
present establishment; but I think that the attempt may be so
managed as not in the slightest degree to injure our present
school, but rather to forward its success. To establish this
college is the height of my ambition. I feel confident that,
with great numbers and great capital, the science and practice
of education might be improved to such a degree as to show that
it is now in its infancy.”

It was at the age of twenty-five, when he had for some years been the real head of the school, that he made this record. When, however, his brother and he first began their reforms, their efforts were turned to much smaller matters. Matthew set about improving the teaching, while Rowland chiefly took in hand the organization of the school and the management of the accounts. As regards most of their changes, their father at first showed, if not great unwillingness, at all events considerable indifference. Often they had to set themselves against some of his most cherished theories; often they had to stir him up to action when he would have liked much rather to remain in complete repose. “It is an old sore,” writes one of the brothers, later on, “to witness my father’s apathy in the midst of all our exertions.” It was at first no easy matter to win his consent to their plans of reform, but he soon recognised his sons’ ability, and gave their powers full play. Many a man who is too easy-going to carry out to the full the work that lies before him, is yet “rough, unswayable, and rude,” when his own children come forward and do his work with their own hands. This was not Thomas Hill’s character. “My father,” his son said, “showed no signs of vexation, nor was he ever jealous of any of us. He used only to express a fear that I had got too much on my hands. So far from being jealous, he was proud of my doing the work, and used to boast of it to others.” How highly, indeed, he had always thought of his son is shown by the following anecdote, which I find recorded in Rowland’s Journal for 1817:—

“My father, a little time since, was speaking of me to my
friend William Matthews, when he said, ‘Once in my life I
struck him, but I afterwards found that it was unjustly; and
I’d give this right hand to recall that blow. I hope Rowland
has forgotten it; I wish that I could.’ It is unnecessary
to say that, when my friend told me this, I felt both great
pleasure and pain. It is now about eleven years since the
affair happened to which he referred. Many a tear has that blow
cost me, though my father acknowledged himself sorry for having
struck me very soon after.”

So much did the young man take upon his own shoulders, that before he was of age he was, in almost everything but name, the real Head-master.

“My first reform,” he one day told me, “was about the school-bell. I was then not more than twelve. It rang very irregularly. I looked into the matter and discovered the cause. It was owing to the following rule of my father’s. There was a monitor whose duty it was to ring the bell, and a penalty was fixed for any delay. But any one who happened to be in the school-room at the time was bound to ring the bell, and was fined for omission. This was one of my first attempts at legislation. I with difficulty persuaded my father to reverse his rule—to fine any one who did ring the bell, except the monitor. That change was eminently successful.” In the hours of meals there had also been great irregularity. The bell was never rung till everything was ready. He proposed that henceforth the bell should be rung at fixed times, it being taken for granted that everything was ready. “My mother said it was impossible to have the dinner at the exact time, as a large leg of mutton required more time to roast than a smaller one. I said no doubt it must have more time, but the cook must begin earlier. She gave in on my earnestly desiring it.”

In his Journal for the year 1817 he records: “If the monitor neglect to ring the bell at the proper time, he incurs heavy penalties, which I take care to collect rigorously, convinced that in the end it is the most merciful mode of proceeding.” As he grew older he was more inclined in every case to fix lighter penalties; but whether he was dealing with his pupils, with the servants of the London and Brighton Railway, or the servants of the Post Office, he always rigorously enforced whatever penalty had been justly incurred.

Many duties he undertook, he said, as it was less trouble for him to do them himself than to be called in to help another. His father did not keep his accounts on any good system—he had not even an index to his ledger—nor did he make them out at any fixed time. To him they were a necessary evil, and were treated accordingly. The bills were never sent out till the very end of the holidays. “I had a great liking for working in the carpenter’s shop. All through my holidays I was in constant dread lest my father should come up to ask me to help him in making out the accounts, and so call me off from some piece of construction. At last I said that I would rather make up the accounts myself, as I got so tired of these constant interruptions. One of my cousins helped me. He and I used to rise very early one morning just before the holidays, and at last we always completed the posting from the ledger, which before had been spread over the whole holidays, by breakfast-time, while the accounts were sent off with the boys.” Rowland was about fourteen when he thus began to make up the school-bills. At the age of sixteen or seventeen he took into his own hands the entire management of his father’s money affairs, and “a heavy responsibility it was.” There were not a few debts owing, but in no long time, by dint of great efforts, he paid off all that was due. “I went round and discharged all the debts, and was very much complimented by my father’s creditors.”

About the same time the two brothers were planning to have a kind of “Speech Day”—an Exhibition, as they called it. “We are busily employed,” wrote Rowland in his Journal, in the year 1813, “in preparing for an Exhibition at Christmas of oratory, penmanship, arithmetic, parsing, &c.” In the dramatic part of the entertainment the boys were chiefly drilled by Matthew. The rest of the work mainly fell on Rowland. Three years later his brother was away in London, “eating his terms,” and his father had fallen sick. “I had to drill,” he said, “the boys in recitation. I disliked the work very much, and was very unfit for it; but I had to do it. We always printed the pieces the boys were to repeat. In the scene from ‘Hamlet,’ where Horatio says, ‘My lord, I think I saw him yesternight!’ and Hamlet answers, ‘Saw?—who?’ I thought ‘who’ ought to be ‘whom.’ I consulted my father, who agreed with me; and so we printed it. Matthew—[the old man, as he came to this part of the story, laughed heartily]—Matthew was very angry with me for thus correcting Shakespeare.” He has made in his Journal the following record of the Exhibition of this year:—

“At the last Christmas exhibition, the first act of Plautus’s
‘Captives’ was performed in Latin. For this I painted a street
scene, which took me several days. I believe I never worked
harder than when preparing for this exhibition. The boys were
brought to such a pitch of excellence in mental arithmetic,
and their other exercises, that we were obliged to give them a
great deal of practice that they might not recede. Besides this
I gave a great many lessons from home, attended to a class who
were drawing maps and plans; and at the same time painted the
scenes.

“During more than three weeks, including even Sundays, I was
hard at work on an average at least eighteen hours to each
day; sometimes much more. This I could have borne without
injury, but I had almost all the care and responsibility of the
school on my hands at the same time; for my brother Matthew
was in London several weeks just before the holidays, and my
father was unwell. I am not yet recovered from the ill effects
upon my health of the exertions I then made; but, however,
that exhibition raised our school very high in the public
estimation. The mental arithmetic astonished very much, and as
we invited questions from the audience, they could not suppose
that the boys had been practised in the questions which I asked
them.”

To what a pitch of excellence he raised his classes is shown by the following record:—

“About the same time there arrived in England an American lad
named Zerah Colbourn, whose power in mental arithmetic was made
the subject of public exhibition. As this was a department in
which I had diligently exercised both myself and my pupils, I
accompanied my father to the performance with great interest.
We found that the boy’s power consisted chiefly in finding
with great rapidity the factors of numbers, and square and
cube roots. I naturally tried my ability against his, and I
found that so long as low numbers were dealt with, I equalled
and even surpassed him in rapidity, but that he could deal
effectually with numbers so high as to be far beyond my
management. Thus he would rapidly extract the cube root of
a number expressed in nine figures, provided always it were
an exact cube, for with other numbers he declined to deal.
His mode of proceeding was a secret, which, with some other
devices, his father declared himself willing to reveal so
soon as a subscription of, I think, one thousand pounds or
guineas should have been raised. As this did not seem to me a
very hopeful project, I came to the conclusion that my only
way of becoming acquainted with the secret was to find it out
for myself. I accordingly went to work, and soon discovered a
mode of performing myself that which I had witnessed with so
much wonder; and not content with this, proceeded to consider
whether means might not be found for mentally extracting roots
without limitation to exact cubes. This was an incomparably
harder problem, nor did I arrive at its solution till a year
or two later. Each process, as soon as discovered, I taught
to my pupils, who in the easier task—all that Colbourn ever
attempted—became more rapid and far more correct than Colbourn
himself; for with him, in extracting a cube root expressed in
three figures, it was a common incident to fail in the second,
an error which my pupils learned for the most part to avoid.
I may add that some of them became so quick and accurate in
both processes, that when on a public occasion, viz., at
Midsummer, 1822, printed tables of cubes and their roots had
been placed in the hands of examiners, and questions asked
therefrom ranging up to two thousand millions, and of course
without any limitation to exact cubes, the answers—fractions,
however being disregarded—were given so quickly as to lead
some sceptics, little aware of the monstrous absurdity of the
hypothesis, to declare that the whole must have been previously
learned by rote. I reduced my discovery to writing, intending
to publish it in a contemplated manual of mental arithmetic;
but unfortunately this, with other papers, was lost in a manner
never fully known, and to repeat the discovery I fear I should
now find quite impracticable.[39]

“While on the subject of mental arithmetic, I may mention
that I brought the pupils in my class to perform mentally
other difficult calculations with a facility that excited no
small surprise. Thus they would readily find the moon’s age
(approximately, by epacts) for any day of any year; also, the
day of the week corresponding with any day of the month; and,
by a combination of the two processes, ascertain the day of the
month corresponding with Easter Sunday in any year.”

It was with some reason that Mr. Sargant, in describing his old school, writes: “Our arithmetic was amazing, even excelling, by our laborious acquisition of mental arithmetic, the success of the present Privy Council Schools.”[40] In surveying, also, the young teacher’s pupils made almost as much progress as in mental arithmetic. He had undertaken to make a complete survey of Birmingham:—

“I now made my first trigonometrical survey; taking my first
stations on our own playground (which fortunately commanded a
view of many of the principal objects in the town), and, as
before, engaging my surveying class in the work, both for their
instruction and my own assistance.

“This occupation led me to inquire into the great
trigonometrical survey then carried on by Colonel Mudge,
especially that part of it which related to the neighbourhood
of Birmingham, my chief object being to ascertain what records
would avail for our map, and what further steps it would be
needful for me to take to complete the work. With this view I
procured his report, and studied it with care, finding it more
interesting than any novel. I read with particular interest
the part describing the measurement of the great base line on
Hounslow Heath by his predecessor, General Roy; and I gathered
from it that my own base lines, taken one on our playground
and the other on the opposite side of Birmingham, were far too
short, the longer extending to only one hundred-and-thirty
feet. I therefore resolved to recommence my work, and not
only to take a much longer base line, but also to measure it
as accurately as I could. I now give a passage taken from my
Journal.

“‘I accordingly procured some long deal rods and three stools
for the purpose of measuring a line with great accuracy.
The stools are made to rise and fall, and somewhat resemble
music-stools; this construction was necessary, in order to
place the rods always upon the same level.[41]

“‘I chose Bromsgrove Street as the situation of the base, on
account of its remarkable levelness, and the number of objects
which are visible from different parts of it. The base extends
from the corner of the Bell Inn, on the right-hand side of the
Bristol Road, and opposite to the end of Bromsgrove Street, to
the wall at the north-eastern end of Smithfield; being nearly
half a mile in length, and so admirably situated with respect
to the objects, that there is not a single obtuse angle upon it.

“‘Besides measuring with the rods, I surveyed the line twice
with a land chain, properly adjusted, and after making
every allowance for the elongation of the chain during
the admeasurement, I found the difference in the total
length of the base, which is nearly half a mile, to be only
three-quarters of an inch. When the survey is completed, I
intend to write an account of it, which will be found among my
manuscripts.[42]

“‘I have thought of publishing parts of it in some of the
magazines, particularly a relation of a new mode of using the
theodolite, which I have invented. This mode increases its
power exceedingly.’

“In performing this work it was of course necessary to avoid
the daily traffic, which would have disturbed our operations;
and, as my Journal shows, my class and I, during the three days
occupied in the process, viz., May the 25th, 27th, and 30th,
rose the first day at three, the second at five minutes before
three, and the third at five minutes past two.

“The improved mode of using the theodolite referred to above
consisted in making it do the work of a repeating circle; and
thus I was enabled, with respect to each of the principal
angles, to obtain the mean of perhaps twenty measurements. I
may here mention that the fact of this contrivance happened,
on a subsequent occasion, to do me good service. Some years
afterwards, being in London, I wished to visit the Royal
Observatory, and procuring a letter of introduction to Captain
Kater, then a member of the Board of Longitude, I applied to
him for an order. With all the politeness that can attend a
negative, he told me that the Astronomer Royal (Mr. Pond) had
been so much interrupted of late as to deprecate any further
issue of orders save in cases of absolute necessity. As some
consolation, however, he offered to show me his own apparatus;
which, I need not say, I examined with great interest. In
the course of conversation I mentioned my new device, when,
turning to me with a look of great pleasure, he told me that
he had hit upon the same improvement himself. Before I left he
sat down and wrote the order; of which I did not fail to make
use. I may add that at a later period he visited the school,
subsequently placed a son under our care, and continued till
death to honour me with his friendship.

“To return to the survey, I give a second extract from my
Journal:—

“‘_June 23rd, 1819._—This day I completed the calculations
for the trigonometrical survey of Birmingham, and some
parts of the adjoining country.

“‘After completing the survey of the town, I thought it
desirable to extend it for the purpose of verifying the
admeasurement of the base, by computing the length of two
lines which were measured by Colonel Mudge. These are
the distance [the respective distances] of Wolverhampton
and Wednesbury spires from a station at Bar beacon.
Colonel Mudge has left no mark to show the situation of
his station; he describes it indeed, but not with very
great precision. He says in his report, ‘The station is
thirty yards north of the plantation.’ I have supposed
his description to be exactly correct, that is, that the
station was placed directly north of the centre of the
plantation, and thirty yards from the nearest part of the
clump of trees. If this be correct the station would stand
fifty-six yards directly north of the flagstaff, and this I
have supposed to be its situation.

“‘The distance of Wolverhampton spire from the station
at Bar beacon, Colonel Mudge gives at 48,345 feet. This,
reduced to the distance from the flagstaff, gives 48,355
feet.

“‘By my operations I make the distance to be 48,362 feet,
differing by only seven feet in upwards of nine miles. The
distance of Wednesbury spire from the station at Bar beacon
is, according to Colonel Mudge, 25,140 feet. This, reduced
to the distance from the flagstaff, is 25,098 feet. I have
found the same line to measure 25,102 feet, differing by
only four feet in nearly five miles.[43]

* * * * *

“‘Besides measuring these distances, I reduced the latitude
and longitude of St. Philip’s church, and of the station on
this house [my father’s], from the latitude and longitude
of Bar beacon as given by Colonel Mudge.’[44]

“One other line measured in the course of my operations (I
think it was the one from the station on Bar beacon to that
on Clent Hill near Hagley) was of yet greater length than
those mentioned above, being no less than fourteen miles.
Indeed, the triangles became so large that I had to make
allowance for spherical excess, the rotundity of the earth
becoming otherwise a source of error.

“Whenever it was practicable I measured all three angles
of each triangle; and, after allowance for the spherical
excess, there was no instance, I believe, in which the sum
of the three angles differed from 180° by so much as half a
minute.

“Those possessed of such instruments as are used at the
present day will perhaps smile at the self-satisfaction
with which I regarded this approximate accuracy; but they
must remember that I had only a common theodolite, such as
was in use fifty years ago.

“It may be mentioned here that, on account of the length of
the lines, communication between our stations was a matter
of some difficulty and much interest. When two divisions of
the surveying class had to set out in different directions
for places many miles apart, for the purpose of acting
in concert with each other, of course a certain amount
of forethought and injunction before starting, and sharp
watchfulness on the spot, were indispensable: spare flags
were carried for telegraphic purposes, and telescopes
for observation of the signals previously agreed upon. I
need not say that each signal at one station was eagerly
welcomed at the other, and that its repetition, given by
way of acknowledgment at the latter, was no less warmly
hailed at the former.

“There was a little incident on this occasion which, though
somewhat foreign to my subject, I mention as ludicrously
characteristic of schoolboy _esprit de corps_ according to
its manifestation fifty years ago. I understand the feeling
is now much mitigated, without, however, being injuriously
impaired. In the midst of our proceedings at Bar beacon
the pupils of another school came upon the ground, being
apparently out for a holiday. A feeling of hostility soon
manifested itself in our party, and that without any other
provocation from the other side than arose from mere
presence; and though the rival party mustered at least
three-fold our number, it was soon suggested, no doubt
half in joke, that we should challenge them to fight; if
I would only deal with the master a good account should
soon be given of all the rest. This absurd petition being
of course rejected, a more peaceful means was hit upon
for the vindication of our honour. The hill on which we
stood was, and perhaps still is, surmounted by a flagstaff
sixty or seventy feet high, by means of which it was
announced to the world round about whether the family at
the neighbouring hall were at home or otherwise. About
half-way up this standard was a small platform, accessible
by a perpendicular ladder; and to this one of our number, I
believe the youngest, proceeded to mount, descending after
a short stay. Though not a word was said, the hint was
immediately taken by the other party, one of whom repeated
the feat. A second of our number was likewise followed by
a second of theirs; but a third finding no imitator, the
victory remained with us. Further, however, to enhance the
triumph, the little fellow who had made the first ascent,
having remounted to the platform, ‘swarmed’ up thence to
the top of the pole, returning to the ground with no small
self-satisfaction. As no similar attempt was made by the
rival party, enough was thought to have been done for the
honour of the school; and when we left the ground, it was
with the dignified air of demonstrated superiority.

“Before leaving the subject of surveys, I may mention
that I afterwards led my class to measure and plot, with
sections longitudinal and transverse, so much of the
Ickenield Street as then remained on Sutton Coldfield, the
length being about three miles; and lastly, that at the
request of Dr. Blair, now well known to every reader of the
life of Professor Wilson, we made a survey underground,
viz., of a coal-pit, his property, near Dudley. This,
though a dark and dirty piece of work, was much enjoyed by
the lads, the more so as at the close of their task they
were plentifully regaled at Dr. Blair’s hospitable table.

“These operations extended over a portion of 1818 and 1819.

“A little incident which occurred during the survey on
Sutton Coldfield may be worth mentioning. A farmer coming
up towards the close of our operations asked what we were
doing, and upon being told that we were surveying the Roman
road, inquired, ‘What’s that?’ At this time, the sun, being
low in the sky, threw the depressed parts of the road
into sufficient shadow to bring out alike the convexity
of the carriage-way and the comparative elevation of the
causeways on either side, so that the road, not easily
discernible in the full light of day, had now its outlines
distinctly marked. The answer, therefore, was easy, and
pointing to the long line of road stretched before us, I
replied, ‘There it is.’ The rustic looked in the direction
indicated, and after gazing for awhile in bewildered
surprise exclaimed, ‘Good God, I have crossed this way
every day for twenty years, and never saw that before!’”[45]