Chapter IV

Able and successful though Rowland Hill was as a teacher, nevertheless he often regretted that he was withdrawn from duties which he alone could perform, to undertake that which another might have done with at least a fair amount of success. “I ought,” he records in his Journal, “to have nothing to do but to superintend others; my time is unfortunately too much occupied as a teacher.” Certainly the singular system of education which he had devised required for its proper working the almost undivided attention of its author. Before I describe it, I would ask the reader to bring before his mind the state of our schools in the days of our fathers. Let him read “Tom Brown.” Let him see what Rugby was even after Dr. Arnold had for some years been its master. Let him see the shocking brutality to which an inoffensive child could be exposed. I can never think on some of the scenes of that story without feeling that Arnold’s great name is stained by the cruel deeds that were done under his own roof. Had he thought a little more of suffering and a little less of sin, he would have been a better master and a greater man. At the time that Rowland Hill began his reforms Arnold was still at Oxford. He was not appointed to Rugby till six years after Matthew and Rowland Hill had brought out their work on Public Education. There had been little sign as yet of any improvement in our schools. There was still many a place where a gentle and timid child was exposed to savage and ignorant cruelty. These ancient foundations boast, and with justice, of the famous men whom they have reared. They are proud of their traditions; and yet I can never visit one of these old schools without seeing rise before my mind a long line of unhappy children who were too gentle, too delicately wrought for the rough and brutal world into which they were suddenly thrown, and whose little hearts were well-nigh broken by the cruelty of an unfeeling herd of masters and boys.

“Continuo auditæ voces, vagitus et ingens,
Infantumque animæ flentes in limine primo.”

In the year 1821, Southey thus wrote of one of the playmates of his own childhood:—

“The eldest son was taken from the Charter House because he
was, literally, almost killed there by the devilish cruelty
of the boys. They used to lay him before the fire till he was
scorched, and shut him up in a trunk with sawdust till he had
nearly expired with suffocation. The Charter House, at that
time, was a sort of hell upon earth for the under boys. He was
of weak understanding and feeble frame.”[46]

I own the value and the force of the traditions of a school. I know that they cling to places, and are not easy to transplant; but, were I a Charter House boy, after reading such a passage as this, I should feel that I drew a freer, as well as a purer, air on the open downs above Godalming, than in the old buildings near Smithfield.

In the instruction that was given there had been but little general improvement. The old classical education was, no doubt, in many ways admirably well suited for boys who were quick at languages. But it made the dull ten times as dull as they came from nature, and marked down many a lad as a hopeless blockhead whose good parts were merely overwhelmed by the gross ignorance of his teachers. Pedantry, scarcely less than penury, can freeze the genial current of the soul. If the fools and blockheads could only once gather their poor wits together, and only once give their thoughts utterance, what a tale of wrong would they pour forth against the brutal and ignorant pedants who had, in their childhood, puffed out the far too feeble light which had been given to light them through the world.

Bad, indeed, was the general state of education when Rowland Hill set up for its reformer—so bad that it almost excuses the audacity of the young enthusiast. His audacity, certainly, was almost boundless. “We must honestly confess,” his eldest brother and he say, in the volume which they published on education, “that we retain hardly a single opinion relating to any part of our profession which we held in early life. One by one we have surrendered them all to the force of experience.” He was but twenty-five at most when he wrote this, and all the wisdom of our forefathers he had already scattered to the winds. With some reason did one of his pupils say, “There was a great want of reverence for authority in his school. There was no respect for the opinion of the great and good men of all ages—that _consensus_ of opinion.” In his old age, Rowland Hill described his career as a schoolmaster as a series of experiments. In the years when he was making his greatest changes, and striking out into the newest of paths, he had, as he himself said, no misgivings as to his fitness for his post; and yet it was not till after this time that he so painfully found out how little he knew, and how much he had still to learn. He had, however, this ground for his confidence, that all his plans did work. In the midst of his boldness he was still cautious. He had a horror of failure, and a strong but wholesome dread of that ridicule which awaits the mere dreamer. Many might well have thought that such a school as he described could scarcely have existed even in Utopia, and yet it flourished in Birmingham.

It was in the year 1822 that the two brothers brought out their work on Public Education.[47] Part of it had been written, at all events, as early as 1818. The plans, so far as the government of boys is concerned, are almost all Rowland’s; the composition of the work is mostly Matthew’s. Fanciful though it often is, dogmatic, and even arrogant in places, yet it can still be read with pleasure and with advantage by those who take an interest in education. The young schemer was, indeed, fortunate in finding in his eldest brother a writer who could throw over his plans the charm of a lively and a singularly clear style. In this work is set forth a complete scheme for the government of a large school. From the best method of cultivating the heart and the head, down to the pettiest details of every-day life, all is considered, and for all provision is made. Here it is shown how out of almost any boy, however unpromising he may at first sight seem, can be made a good man and a good citizen. Here, too, is laid down a plan for drying school-boys’ wet shoes. The brothers, one and all alike, had the fullest trust in their system. “Even if they had never made a penny by it,” said one who knew them well, “they would still have tried to carry it out. They were like ministers of religion who were, indeed, paid for their ministry, but who, nevertheless, taught their dogmas as a matter of conscience.” The founder was for many years confident that his system could be worked by others, if only they took it up with understanding and zeal. He looked forward to the time when he should see great colleges on the same system spring up in all parts of the country, to the almost boundless advantage of his fellow-men. He has since been heard to confess that having, after long years, looked into his code of laws, he thought it far too complex. He added, with a smile, that he greatly doubted whether he should send his own son to a school conducted on such a complicated system.[48] In truth, even before he had given up school-keeping, he had found out the need of greater simplicity, and had cleared away much of the machinery which he had so laboriously constructed.

In the preface to the first edition, the brothers state:—

“Having satisfied our minds that our general theory was
correct, by a long course of experiments, and by the
acquiescence of those who are so much interested in a careful,
and even rigorous, examination of our plans, we have latterly
proceeded without the trepidation which at first attended us at
every step, and rendered the task of reducing the convictions
of our minds to practice, a tedious and painful operation.
We now feel our system to be sufficiently matured for public
inspection—not that it is incapable of infinite improvement.
We are far from pretending to a state of perfection; that
we should belie daily by the changes which we still find it
expedient to introduce. But there is a wide difference between
alterations which proceed from the adoption of new principles,
and those which are in furtherance of old ones. The latter
will become gradually more and more minute, until they cease
altogether to effect any of the important features.”

We may once more be tempted to smile, as we read of the long course of experiments carried out by a young man who was but five-and-twenty. It is not, however, by years but by labour that life is rightly measured. Rowland Hill at a very early age had come into the only inheritance which he was ever to receive—man’s inheritance of labour and sorrow. He had seen, it is true, but five-and-twenty summers. Yet far distant must have seemed to him the time of childhood’s careless years. He had begun to labour early, and into every hour, into every day, into every year, he had got the work of two. How much he had already done is shown by one of his father’s letters to his brother Matthew, dated April 24th, 1823. Well-nigh broken down by work, the young man had gone up to London to seek rest by a change of scene:—

“I hope change of place and your good company will be of
service to our beloved Rowland. You are aware that his
indisposition originates in his intense application to the
business of the school, and I think it particularly excited
by anything which draws hard upon his inventions; I therefore
suggest that the discussion of new plans is not a desirable
subject of conversation.... I most ardently wish that the dear
lad could reflect more on the much that is effected than on the
little that may remain in the state of a desideratum. If we
can maintain our present position—and surely it is far easier
to preserve than to gain—if we can do this, we have enough to
make us very proud and very happy. I do hope that improvements
will for awhile be entrusted to that quiet operation of time
and experience which will slightly tax the mental powers of one
who has done a life’s work in less than half the years he may
fairly hope to pass in usefulness, and who must not be suffered
to be worn out prematurely.”

This letter was found a few years ago, and was shown to the aged man who, after his long life of usefulness, had at last entered upon that period of rest from which he was never to be roused again. It so chanced that I called on him soon after he had seen it. I have this note of my visit:—

“He spoke with great emotion of the hard work and anxieties
of his youth, and said that he had broken down several times
before he gave up the school. He and his brother Matthew used
constantly to talk over school matters—too much so by a great
deal. He had been lately shown a letter written by his father,
saying that he was going to London for a holiday, and that
not a word must be said to him about business, for he greatly
needed rest, and had already done the work of a life-time.
‘And so I had,’ my uncle said to me, with a voice broken with
emotion.”[49]

If any still smile at the young man’s “long course of experiments,” surely it will be with a smile of kindly pity and not of contempt. The trepidation which we are told attended the youthful reformer at every step is, I fancy, a rhetorical flourish of Matthew’s. There was but little trepidation in Rowland Hill at any period of his life. In his early years his daring would have seemed in almost any other man the most overweening rashness. But, as I have already said, he knew what he could do, and always kept well within his powers.

The first mention of his new system in his Journal is as follows:—

“Soon after Midsummer (1816), I established a Court of Justice
in the school. The judge is chosen monthly by the boys. The
sheriff and the keeper of the records are chosen in the same
manner. The attorney and solicitor-general are appointed by
me. The judge appoints the inferior officers, as the clerk and
crier of the Court, the constables, etc. The jury consists of
six boys, chosen by ballot, from amongst those who have not for
the last month disgraced themselves by appearing on certain
bad lists, or by being convicted of any disgraceful offence.
All evidence is taken, even that of the parties themselves. No
oaths are administered, as we wish to impress the boys with the
conviction that it is criminal to tell falsehoods at any time
and in any place. The assizes are appointed to be held once per
week; but it sometimes happens that there are no offenders.
The sheriff keeps a book in which he enters all the sentences,
which are generally the forfeiture of premial marks, a certain
number of which entitle a boy to a holiday. If a boy cannot pay
the marks, he is imprisoned in a large wooden cage, at the rate
of one hour for five marks. The greatest number of offences
are leaving school without permission and before the tasks are
completed.... If a boy pleads guilty (as most of them do), his
punishment is always lessened one-sixth; but the prisoners
are never asked whether they are guilty or not, that they may
not be induced to tell lies. The sheriff always presents his
book to me for my signature to each sentence, and I have the
power of mitigating and pardoning. I never yet have had cause
to find fault with a single verdict of a jury or sentence of a
judge; and I have found that these trials, besides saving my
father and myself a deal of trouble in deciding disputes and
investigating offences (for the Court tries civil as well as
criminal causes), have very considerably lessened the number of
offences. I believe (and I have good opportunities of becoming
acquainted with other schools) that our boys are by far the
most moral set I ever was acquainted with. This circumstance
may, I think, in a great measure be attributed to these and
some later regulations.”

Whether the cage was at any time in public view I do not know. Before long, however, he and his brothers came to see how much harm is done by exposing a boy to public shame, as is shown by the following passage in the second edition of Public Education:—

“Confinement, and disability to fill certain offices, are our
severest punishments;—public disgrace, which is painful in
exact proportion to the good feeling of the offender, is not
employed, and every measure is avoided which would destroy
self-respect. Expulsion has been resorted to, rather than a boy
should be submitted to treatment which might lead himself and
his schoolfellows to forget that he was a gentleman.”

A few months later on he gave his pupils—what many a ruler has since given his people—a Constitution:—

“I have long thought that the system of representation might
be introduced with advantage into the government of a school;
and soon after Christmas (1816), with my father’s approbation,
I drew up a set of resolutions, which were unanimously passed
at a general meeting of the school, appointing a mode of
electing a committee for the management of the school. They
have the direction of everything except the school hours
and the quantity of work to be done. We were afraid then of
entrusting them with the regulation of these things, but the
committees have acted so very properly, and have showed so
decidedly that they are fit to be entrusted with power, that
I think no inconvenience would arise from their having the
power to appoint the school hours and the work to be done in
the school; however, they show no wish to be entrusted with
such power. The committee is chosen monthly in the following
manner:—We have a list of all the boys, which is arranged once
per month according to general superiority.... The boy who
stands at the top of this list names a committee-man; the two
next boys name another; the three next a third, and so on. If
there is not the exact number of boys at the end of the list
to form a division, they are reckoned with that above. The
election is by ballot. By a resolution passed at the first
general meeting, all the teachers, with the exception of my
father, are to be members of the committee _ex officio_; but
I am the only teacher who ever attends the meetings of the
committee, as we do not wish to mix too much aristocracy in the
government of our little community. After a bill has passed the
committee, it is presented to Mr. Hill for his approbation,
without which it is not considered as a law. It is then read
aloud in the school-room by the president of the committee,
between certain hours of the day, and posted up against the
wall for at least three days. My father has never yet found
it necessary to refuse his approbation to a single law. The
committee is obliged by the laws to meet at least once per
week; sometimes it assembles oftener than that. They appoint
the officers of the Court of Justice, who were before appointed
by the whole school. We derive many advantages from this form
of government in the school. One advantage, and that not an
inconsiderable one, is that it teaches the boys the manner
in which public meetings ought to be conducted; a species of
knowledge in which, if we may judge from some late specimens,
the present generation is particularly ignorant. But the effect
of most importance attending this mode of governing is that
it has the best effect upon the morals of the scholars. Of
course the committee will consist of boys whose age or superior
acquirements give them a lead in all the affairs of the school;
and it is of the utmost importance that these boys should lead
the others the right road, and not astray, as is too frequently
the case. Now they feel themselves under some obligation not
to break those laws which they themselves have assisted in
enacting, and the scholars cannot complain that the laws are
too severe, because, either in their own proper persons or in
those of their representatives, they must have assisted in
passing them. The consequence has been that, since things have
been so constructed, we have gone on much more pleasantly to
all parties than before.”

About the same time that the Constitution was granted, a Benevolent Society was formed amongst the boys:—

“In February last (1817) my father advised the boys to raise
a subscription among themselves to be applied to benevolent
purposes; and, that they might not become too soon tired,
he recommended that they should subscribe small sums. They
immediately entered into his views with great spirit; the names
of subscribers were set down, and a general meeting was called
for the next day. At this meeting resolutions were entered into
for the regulation of the Society, and a committee, consisting
of seven boys, was elected to dispose of the funds. The
committee meets once per week. A general meeting is held once
in every month to receive the report of the committee, to elect
a new one, pass the accounts, &c. I was elected treasurer,
and still keep the office. The weekly subscriptions amount
to rather more than five shillings; donations and forfeits
generally make it up to about six shillings. The boys have been
able to relieve many poor families with bacon and potatoes,
or bread. I consider everything of this kind as doubly
advantageous, because at the same time that the distressed
are relieved, the attention of the boys is directed in a good
channel. It finds them something to do and to think about.
Boys will be acting, and if they cannot do good, they will do
mischief.”[50]

In the autumn of the following year further reforms were carried out:—

“_October 10th, 1818._—A few weeks ago the following law was
passed by the committee:—

“‘Resolved—That on the same day as that on which the judge
is appointed, a magistrate shall be elected in the same
manner (that is by ballot). This officer shall have the
appointment of the constables, who shall be under his
direction. These officers shall constitute the police, and
their duty shall be the detection, and, in some cases,
the punishment of crime. The magistrate shall levy all
penalties not exceeding ten premial marks, and decide
disputes respecting extra work, games, &c., the parties
having the right of appeal to a teacher, or to the Court
of Justice; but, if the appellant should be unsuccessful,
the punishment shall be doubled. In cases which, from
their importance, do not come under the cognizance of the
magistrate, he shall order the attorney-general to bring
the offending party to trial at the next assizes.

“‘The magistrate may hold his court in any part of the
school premises, and if any one shall refuse to attend,
either as culprit or witness, after having received a
verbal or written order, from the magistrate in person, or
from either of the constables, he shall subject himself to
the fine of twenty premial marks. Any one thinking himself
unjustly detained by the magistrate or his officers, shall
have his action for damages, to be assessed by the jury. It
shall be considered the duty of the magistrate to examine
into every offence, and punish the aggressor as early as
possible after the offence is committed. If the magistrate
shall neglect his duty (that is to say if any offence
shall come to the knowledge of a teacher which has not
been punished within a proper time by the magistrate), it
shall be considered the duty of the committee to remove him
from his office. But if the magistrate shall go through
his duty to the satisfaction of the committee, the master
shall be requested to reward him with permission to give
to any number of his schoolfellows, not exceeding six, an
afternoon’s holiday, which he may enjoy with them. The
magistrate may also reward his constables, by giving to
each of them an afternoon’s holiday, and the privilege of
choosing either one or two schoolfellows to enjoy it with
them. When the magistrate shall be absent from school,
he shall appoint a deputy, for whose acts he shall be
responsible.

“‘This appointment of a magistrate has saved me a deal of
trouble in punishing slight offences and deciding disputes.
It appears quite to have put a stop to a practice which
before we never found it possible to check—namely, that of
throwing stones. Indeed, it is a very great improvement
in the management of the school, as from the nature of
the magistrate’s reward, every one is interested in his
performing his duty as much as possible to the satisfaction
of the master. Another improvement in the discipline of the
school is a regulation made a few months ago, which is that
when a boy above the age of twelve leaves the school, a
subcommittee is appointed to draw up his character, subject
to the revisal of the general committee, after which it
is entered in a book kept for the purpose, and read aloud
before the whole school. This law has had an excellent
effect upon all; but particularly upon the elder boys. It
is generally the case at schools that, a short time before
a boy is about to leave, he finds his character at school
to be less and less important as the time for his leaving
approaches, the consequence of which is that he becomes
careless about it, and gives a deal of trouble to his
teachers. But with us the case is exactly reversed: as the
time for leaving approaches, the boy is aware that his
conduct will have a greater and greater effect upon the
character he is to leave behind him, and his behaviour is
accordingly better each day till the time of his removal
arrives.’”

The next entry on the subject of reforms in the school is dated July 11th, 1820:—

“It is now more than six months since I made any entry in this
Journal; during that time I have been engaged in business
almost incessantly. I have introduced many improvements
into our system lately, the most prominent of which is the
adaptation of music to our evolutions. The boys form in
classes, march to their places, to their meals, to bed, down in
the morning, &c., to music; the consequence of which is that
every movement is made in one-half of the time it formerly
occupied, and with one-tenth part of the noise. Another
advantage is the great practice it gives to the band, which now
plays nineteen times a day, without the least injurious effect
to the health of the performers, as they are engaged but for a
minute or two each time.

“I believe I have before mentioned that we have been enabled to
abolish corporal punishment in the school; but as I then looked
upon it as an experiment, I could not speak so confidently of
the result as I now can. It is nearly two years and a-half
since the experiment was first tried, so that I now think
it decisive. The result has far surpassed my most sanguine
expectations. Since its adoption the plan has at various times
received many improvements. A detailed account of it may be
seen in a work we are now preparing for the press, which
contains a complete description of our system of government
in the school. All that is here necessary for me to say is,
that every punishment consists in the forfeiture of counters,
which are the currency of the school, and which are obtained by
excelling in the different classes, by filling various offices,
but principally by work which is done out of the school
hours. The system is so arranged that the boys are induced to
perform these tasks before the fines are incurred, so that
while they are thus engaged they have not the disagreeable
feeling that they are working for punishment,—therefore the
work is performed with pleasure. Our object in instituting
this plan was to remove the disagreeable necessity of corporal
punishment: this we have completely accomplished; but, in
effecting that, we have derived advantages which were not
anticipated, and which are still more important.

“These counters can be obtained by work of almost every
description, done at any time; and there is no one scarcely
who is either so deficient in talent or so indolent, but that
some occupation can be found in which he will engage with
pleasure. [His father, ten years before this, had written,
‘Those who do anything may, in almost all cases, perhaps in all
without exception, be brought to do useful things.’] Indeed,
there have been repeated instances of boys who have entered
the school with the worst of characters for idleness or for
stupidity, who, having been induced by example to engage in
some pursuit which they could follow with pleasure and with
credit, have thus acquired a taste for excellence which has
extended to other things, and have ultimately risen to a very
respectable rank in the school. In short, this has become the
most important part of our system. The school is now, as it
were, a little world. The counters are our currency; trades
and professions of various kinds, from the improvisiatore and
banker to the musician, punch-keeper,[51] and serving-man
are carried on among us. Here may be seen the boy of talent
exercising his ingenuity to obtain opulence by the most speedy
and effectual means, engaged, perhaps, in the construction
of some curious and difficult model, or in rendering into
English verse the poetry of his favourite author of antiquity;
there the industrious boy may be seen who, already rich, from
the love of wealth or the love of riches, is plodding on to
increase his stores; and, alas! not unfrequently may be seen
the little bankrupt, asking the charity of his friends, or
parting with his last marble to save himself from the terrors
of a gaol.

“Indeed, the whole machine of the school (for such is the
regularity of our proceedings that the appellation is not
misapplied) is now become so very perfect that we are able to
appropriate every minute of the day to its respective use; and
the bells ring, the classes assemble, break up, take their
meals, &c., with such clock-like regularity that it has the
appearance almost of magic.

“I believe I may say that by far the greater part of the system
is my own, and I am not a little proud of its effects....
The school is certainly at this time in a very high state of
improvement. Our annual exhibition, which took place about
the middle of June, gave very great satisfaction to the
audience, and considerably raised the character of the school.
The performances consisted principally of the whole of the
‘Rudens’ of Plautus and Miss Edgeworth’s ‘Eton Montem.’ For
this exhibition I painted a new back-scene; it is a view on the
sea-coast.”

In November, 1821, he records:—

“About two months ago I persuaded the teachers to agree
to devote one evening in the week to the consideration of
improvements to be introduced into the proceedings of the
school. We meet every Saturday, from seven till ten in the
evening, and great benefit has already been derived from the
regulation. My principal object in effecting this was to have
an opportunity of operating on the minds of the teachers
themselves; and I find that this has been done to the advantage
of us all.”

“No chance visitor,” I have been informed by one who knew the school well, “had on that evening the slightest chance of seeing any of the family. The boys,” he added, “dreaded the conference of teachers, from the effect it had on them. It kept everything in such excessive rigidity.”

“_March 10th, 1823._—I find the conference a most powerful
engine. It is true that I have given up to it much power which
I previously possessed, but this, perhaps, is more a nominal
than a real sacrifice, and I believe myself to be so true a
friend to liberty, as to like to see others exercise power as
well as myself; and this, I think, few liberty men can say.”

The Journal affords, however, but an imperfect record of this active little commonwealth. It is in “Public Education” that the constitution and its working are described at length. Their chief aims are thus briefly summed-up in the following passage:—

“The great features of the object we have in view will have
been already appreciated, we hope, by the intelligent reader.
We shall be disappointed if he have not already discovered
that by the establishment of a system of legislation and
jurisprudence, wherein the power of the master is bounded
by general rules, and the duties of the scholar accurately
defined, and where the boys themselves are called upon to
examine and decide upon the conduct of their fellows, we have
provided a course of instruction in the great code of morality
which is likely to produce far more powerful and lasting
effects than any quantity of mere precept.”

Undoubtedly the part of the system that would at first sight most strike an outsider was the power that was placed in the hands of the boys. Arnold and his government through the sixth form were, as I have said, still unknown. His sixth-form boys, moreover, were not elected by their schoolfellows, as they would have been on Rowland Hill’s plan. He was, indeed, to no small extent, bound down by the traditions—the _lex non scripta_—of Rugby. But it was by an unwritten law—a law that was nowhere strictly defined—that his power was limited. The boys of Hill Top and Hazelwood had a constitution that had not grown, but had been deliberately made. A few years after it had been promulgated, a Code of Laws was published, which filled more than a hundred pages of a closely-printed volume. It opens thus:—

“ORIGIN OF THE CONSTITUTION.

“Convinced that numerous and important advantages would be
derived from engaging their pupils in the consideration and
in the practice of rules for their own government, from
placing restrictions to the powers of the teachers, and from
giving to the regulations of the school a permanent form, the
proprietors, early in the year 1817, proposed to the school a
certain division of powers, together with regulations for their
exercise, which, having received the joint assent of teachers
and pupils, became the constitutional laws of the school;
and, in the confident expectation that the powers placed in
the hands of the pupils would never be employed but for the
welfare of the school, the proprietors pledged themselves not
to alter these laws without the consent of a majority of the
proprietors and regular teachers, meeting in conference, on one
hand, and of a majority of the pupils on the other. With such
joint consent, occasional alterations have been made in the
constitutional laws, tending chiefly, if not entirely, to throw
more and more power into the hands of the pupils.”

Fanciful as this may seem, yet for many years the school was carried on strictly in accordance with the provisions of this Code, and carried on with great vigour and spirit. The boys, for the most part, entered with eagerness into the system, and went through their part in it with zeal. In an old letter I read that one day the Committee met before breakfast for the despatch of some important business. A motion was made, and carried almost unanimously, that they should proceed with the business without regard to school-time, play-hours, or meals. It was not till eleven that the work was finished and the Committee adjourned. A jury, trying a charge of theft, deliberated over its verdict from before noon till after eight at night. The “School Magazine” records: “The jury during this time suffered considerably, both from cold and hunger, having had nothing to eat from breakfast, at nine, till after the verdict was given.” In nine years nearly six hundred cases came before the Court; out of these there were but nine appeals to the Committee, which formed the Higher Court.

The part of the system which in my judgment is most worthy of study is that to which its founder gave the name of “Voluntary Labour.” So highly did he himself think of it that he always reckoned it among the three inventions on which he might chiefly pride himself. The other two were his Printing Press and his Penny Postage. In an extract that I have given from his Journal,[52] this device is partly explained. In “Public Education” it is described at length: there we read:—

“The favourite subjects seem to be working the printing-press;
penmanship of various kinds; drawing, etching, and painting;
constructing maps, making surveys, and delineating mathematical
diagrams; reading books on which they prepare themselves for
answering questions; studying music; modelling animals and
constructing machines; filling offices bearing salaries;
learning orations, extracts from the poets, parts in plays, and
dialogues; taking reports of lectures, trials, and debates;
and composition, in prose and verse, in various languages.
This department, which is now become so important a feature in
our system, took its rise from the necessity of furnishing to
boys who had no chance of obtaining marks by excelling their
schoolfellows, opportunities of gaining them by working harder
than those to whom nature had been more propitious. It appeared
to us that, as in the common course of events this must be
their lot in after-life, it would be well to accustom them to
it in their early years; nor were we without hopes that their
superior industry would enable them to press on the heels of
their competitors, and to show them that talent alone would not
be sufficient, at all times, to secure superiority. It seemed
also of consequence to make imprisonment as rare as possible,
both because it is attended with unavoidable disgrace—to which
no mind can with safety be frequently exposed—and because,
unlike labour, it is pain without any utility, except that of
example, which appertains to all judicious penalty of whatever
kind....

... “One of the most valuable habits of life is that of
completing every undertaking. The mental dissipation in which
persons of talent often indulge, and to which they are,
perhaps, more prone than others, is destructive beyond what
can readily be imagined.... The habit of finishing ought to
be formed in early youth. We take care to reward no boy for
fragments, whatever may be their excellence. We know nothing
of his exertions until they come before us in a state of
completion.”

A few years ago Sir Rowland Hill made the following record as regards this scheme of Voluntary Work:—

“One sequel of this plan (it might be too much to call it a
consequence), I mention with the permission of the gentleman
concerned. Amongst those who adopted drawing as his chief
occupation was a little boy who, up to that time, had shown no
particular aptitude for any kind of study. Here, however, he
succeeded so well as soon to attract no small attention. His
power was fostered then and afterwards, and painting eventually
became his profession. Of his eminence in the art I need not
speak, the works of Thomas Creswick needing no eulogy.”

The plan that he devised for putting a check on fights among the boys was as ingenious as it was successful. Fighting had hitherto been against the rule, but it had gone on much as in most other schools. He brought it almost to an end by withdrawing the prohibition. Boys might fight as much as they liked if the combat took place in strict accordance with the new regulations. If, however, they fought in defiance of them, not only the “mighty opposites” themselves, but also all the spectators of the fray, were severely punished. “It was the duty of the eldest boy present, under a heavy penalty, to convey immediate information to the Magistrate, that the parties might be separated.” Those, however, who wished to fight in the manner that the law directed, gave notice of their intention to the Magistrate. It was his duty to inquire into the cause of the quarrel, and to do his best to reconcile the parties. If, however, after six hours had passed by he had not been able to settle “the swelling difference of their settled hate,” then he and his two assistants took them to a retired spot in the playground, where they could fight it out. Meanwhile, all the rest of the boys were confined to the school-room. In later years one of the masters was made the Marshal of the Lists, and not a single boy was allowed to be present. In the first three months after the new rules had been laid down, four formal fights took place. In the next four years there were but two. Informal combats still went on to some extent, but “in every instance early information was conveyed to the Magistrate, who immediately separated the belligerents.” The result was that fighting soon became almost unknown.

Another institution is thus described in “Public Education:”—

“The Committee has the management of the School Fund. It
amounts now to upwards of £100 per annum, and is partly
furnished by the proprietors of the school, and partly by the
parents of the boys. It is expended, for the most part, in the
purchase of philosophical instruments, musical instruments,
apparatus for printing, maps, school-coin, and books for the
school library, the pupils being invited to recommend the
purchase of books or other articles by entries in a register
kept for the purpose. To those who have not witnessed the
prudence and uprightness with which very young persons can be
taught to use power, it may appear a dangerous arrangement to
intrust boys with the disposal of such a fund; but we have
never had the slightest reason to regret the experiment. At the
end of each session—the interval from vacation to vacation—the
Committee prepares a statement of the expenditure, which is
printed at the school press, and each pupil takes home a copy
for the perusal of his friends. Thus a powerful check is
furnished, if any were required, to improper expenditure. The
advantages derived to the boys from the management of this
fund are very considerable. To discuss the various merits and
defects of books and instruments, to ascertain where and how
they can be best procured, to transact the business attendant
on their purchase, and to keep the necessary accounts, must
all be useful exercises. Neither can it be doubted that these
preliminaries to the possession of a desired object, very
much tend to heighten its value, and increase the wish for
its preservation. Thus habits of care are induced which are
of the highest importance. Our school-rooms are all hung
with valuable prints and maps. The musical instruments are
constantly accessible to all the boys. The library contains
many costly books, and property of a great variety of kinds is
constantly exposed to the use of our pupils with almost perfect
safety.”[53]

The punctuality that was established in the school was very striking. To use the words of “Public Education,” it was “an almost superstitious punctuality.”

“Punctuality of attendance entitles a boy to a reward, which
goes on increasing from week to week during all the half-year,
until the progression is interrupted by a failure, after which
it commences anew.”

It went on not only from week to week, but from half-year to half-year. If a boy were a single second late at a single roll-call, his name was struck off the list, and he had to begin again. “Neither illness nor engagement of any kind was a valid plea for absence.” It was his duty not to get ill, and it was the duty of his friends not to call him away from school on any grounds whatever. If there was any marrying, christening, or dying to be gone through in his family, it should be gone through in holiday time. In this “almost superstitious punctuality” I was myself brought up till I went to the University. There, as I well remember, I received a kind of shock when I found my superstition treated with scorn. The first time that I went to the lecture-room, I entered it on the first stroke of the hour. My tutor received me with a look of mild wonder; but, happily, he spared me his reproof. Ten minutes later in came the rest of my companions. It was some days before I could break through the frost of custom, and summon up resolution to be unpunctual. When, however, I found out how worthless the lectures commonly were, I recognised that even the custom of punctuality may be more honoured in the breach than in the observance.

The rank of the boys was fixed each week, and fixed on a different arrangement:—

“For one week the rank of each boy depends upon his progress in
Greek, as far down the school as that language is taught. Those
who do not learn Greek follow according to their proficiency
in some other study. Latin determines the order for another
week, geometry for a third, and so forth. Most of the studies
determine the arrangement for a single week each; but a few,
which are very important, decide it for two distinct weeks in
each half-year.”

This peculiar arrangement is thus defended:—

“It is of great importance that the pupil should, very early
in life, have an opportunity of tasting the pleasure of
success; and, in order to ensure so desirable an end, we have
been careful to attach rank to excellence in each department,
sometimes ranging our pupils in the order of classical
attainments; then as mathematicians; then according to manual
excellence; and, lastly, according to their general conduct
and behaviour. Thus each boy in his turn attains rank and
consideration in that branch of study wherein nature has fitted
him to excel, and where comparatively moderate efforts will
ensure success.”

Twice each half-year the rank of the boys was determined by their conduct:—

“In arranging the boys according to propriety of manners
and general good conduct, which is done twice in the course
of each half-year, the teachers determine the rank of every
boy to the best of their discretion. In doing this, however,
they are materially assisted by the various records which are
preserved of the good and bad conduct of the scholars. On the
day previous to an arrangement of this description, all such
records are posted into a ledger, where each boy has a debtor
and creditor account, which every one has an opportunity of
inspecting, that he may satisfy himself as to its correctness.”

The “Edinburgh Review” for January, 1825, contains a lively description of the school in “the report of a very intelligent friend, who lately inspected the whole establishment in the most careful manner.” This friend was Captain Basil Hall.

“After observing generally that he has no hesitation in saying
that the scheme works admirably in practice, he proceeds:—

“‘The most striking circumstance, perhaps, is the universal
cheerfulness and the kindly terms which the boys are on
with the masters. I had abundant opportunity of satisfying
myself that this was sincere. There was also an air of
hearty attention to their business, which I never saw in
any other school—no languor, no yawning—but all activity,
and abstraction from everything but the lesson. They
all seemed to go about their work like persons who knew
their business, and had no doubts about success; and the
frequent changes from topic to topic kept this degree of
animation always afloat. The various musterings, ringing
of bells, music and marching, which certainly in the book
appear a little like trifling and loss of time, are, in
practice, excellently adapted to maintain good order,
and are all performed so rapidly, that although I was
quite familiar with the description, and was warned by
the master from time to time what was going to be done, I
could not, sometimes with the closest attention, follow
these movements. In a written description it will sometimes
happen that what in fact is the work of a moment, and must
be performed in some manner at every school, occupies
as much space and is as prominently put forward as the
essential instruction which these mere forms are but the
preparation for. And I think it right to state that, after
seeing the whole proceedings of a day, I am not aware
that any of those musterings and other arrangements,
having punctuality as their object, could be dispensed
with without harm. The music consists of a band of twelve
boys. Their instruments are the same as those used by
military bands, and they play extremely well. The study of
music, of drawing, of fencing, and several other similar
accomplishments, is quite voluntary. The play hours of
the boys are occupied partly in mere play, but chiefly
in objects having some useful end in view. They have a
printing-press of their own, and publish a monthly magazine
embellished with etchings on copper, and lithographic
prints, all executed by the boys. Reports of their trials
are given at length; the school discipline is canvassed;
accounts of the expenditure of their funds are drawn up in
a business-like manner; and, in short, the whole system is
a curious epitome of real life. It is extremely important
to remark that all this, being quite general, the every-day
business of their lives, produces no coxcombry amongst the
boys. They are not converted, as I had apprehended they
would be, into little men. They are still boys, but boys
with heads and hands fully employed on topics they like.

“‘They were all very neatly dressed, and remarkably clean
and tidy—all rosy and healthy-looking, and merry as
any children could be at home. The house is thoroughly
ventilated. Their library is well arranged and catalogued.
It is managed, like everything else, exclusively by
the boys. Everybody is allowed to propose any book for
purchase, and the name is submitted to a committee, who
decide.’”

The account that Mr. W. L. Sargant gives of the school is not so favourable.[54]

“Hazelwood was so different from other schools, that there
would inevitably be great varieties of opinion as to its
merits. The men educated there have not generally done it
justice, and I confess that I formerly shared in their
depreciation of it; yet, when I once spoke slightingly of it to
a near relative who had known me from childhood, he objected
that so competent a judge as my father was well pleased to get
such an education for me. I fancy that the Hills taught us to
be unjust to themselves—that they stimulated us to aspire to a
higher degree of excellence than they enabled us to reach; that
they excited a thirst they could not quench, and thus sent us
away with a painful consciousness of deficiencies.”

In another passage he writes: “Whatever fifty years ago might be the merits of Hill Top, it was a gain to a boy to be in daily intercourse with men of such ability.” He goes on to say:—

“By juries and committees, by marks, and by appeals to a sense
of honour, discipline was maintained. But this was done, I
think, at too great a sacrifice. The thoughtlessness, the
spring, the elation of childhood, were taken from us; we were
premature men.... The school was, in truth, a moral hot-bed,
which forced us into a precocious imitation of maturity. I
have heard an Oxford friend say that Arnold’s men had a little
of the prig about them. I know too well that some of us had
a great deal of the prig about us. I have often wished that
I had the ‘giftie to see ourselves as others see us;’ but I
have comforted myself with observing that in later life my
schoolfellows (perhaps, therefore, I myself) outgrew this
unamiable character. The Hazelwood constitution, discipline,
instruction, were in a perpetual flux: the right to-day was
wrong to-morrow; we learnt to criticise and doubt everything
established; ‘whatever is, is wrong,’ might have been our
motto. We had a conceit that we could amend everything, from
education to driving a horse. This constituted our priggism.”

Rowland Hill as a schoolmaster was, in his way, as stern as Arnold. He voluntarily, indeed, gave up power, but he constantly held that a master must be first feared and then loved. He was certainly always feared by his pupils, and always respected; but he was never loved. Tender though his inward nature was, yet for their love he cared but little. He aimed at their welfare. In the discharge of the duty which he owed them, he was willing to make any sacrifice of his time, his liberty, and his pleasures. He ever strove to treat them with the strictest justice. But he asked for no return of their affection. Should he receive it, he was gratified; but was it refused him, he could do without it. No small insight into his character is given by the following passage in “Public Education”:—

“We perfectly agree with Rousseau, that the severest evil which
children suffer is the bondage which they endure. We also agree
with him, that the restraints of necessity are more easily
borne than those which are imposed by the will of others. ‘It
is in the nature of man,’ says he, ‘to endure patiently the
absolute necessity of his circumstances.’ ‘It is all gone,’ is
an answer against which a child never objects; at least, if
he believes it to be true.’[55] Experience must establish the
truth of this position in every mind; we all know that a child
leaves off crying for the moon years before he submits without
a struggle to the commands of his parents. The cause of this
difference arises, we think, partly from the uniform regularity
with which the natural restraints operate, and partly because
the child observes that all around him are subjected to the
same laws. If the child had ever had the moon, or if it had
ever seen the moon in the possession of another person, it
would not be so patient under the privation. Sagacious parents
are aware of this, and take every means of showing their
children that their determinations are as unalterable as
those of nature; and certainly much may be done by prudently
avoiding hasty determinations with respect to children, and by
inflexibly persisting in all determinations when made.”

In governing his school, and in later years in governing all who were placed under his authority, this was the rule that he always aimed at carrying out. By nature, indeed, he was far too hasty in coming to a determination. Nay, he was hot-tempered, and even passionate. No sooner had he discovered his fault than he set about to find for it a cure. One of the methods that he took was certainly very strange. “He gave public notice to the boys that if any one saw him in a passion he might come up and tell him so; receiving a small reward for so doing. This reward was obtained more than once.” He was so rigidly just that no boy who had played the part of Gil Blas would have found in him an Archbishop of Granada. By his Code of Laws he still further put himself under restraint. Every breach of school law, every offence against a master, had its exact penalty fixed. But when once the penalty had been incurred, it was enforced to the full. His determinations, indeed, were as unalterable as those of nature. His strong will and his undaunted courage could not but have won his pupils’ respect. One of them has told me how he remembers a day at Hill Top, when a big fellow, who could easily have knocked his master down, set him at defiance before all the boys. “Rowland Hill ran up to him, seized him by the collar, and said, ‘If you don’t do it this moment, I will knock you down.’ The fellow was cowed in a moment, and, though he was by far the stronger of the two, at once obeyed.” This happened, I should add, in the days before the Constitution had been promulgated, and while the rod still flourished. No doubt he would have been better liked had he not been so over-worked and so over-weary. “There was always in him,” another of his pupils tells me, “a nervous fidgetiness that things should be done rightly.” His impatience arose from an over-wrought brain. But few signs of it were seen by those who knew him only in later life in his hours of repose. Life’s evening brought him calm.

Though the system that I have thus described was mainly Rowland’s, yet at no time was he without the help of at least one of his brothers in the management of the school. Matthew withdrew at an early period to go to the Bar. His place was taken by the fourth brother, Arthur. I find the following record in Rowland’s Journal:—

“Arthur has made himself master of Latin by very intense
application. This circumstance is a considerable relief to
my mind. When I first determined to follow, at least for the
first part of my life, the business of a schoolmaster, I had no
doubt that Matthew would remain with us, and that eventually
we should become partners in the management of the school. As
Matthew was a good classical scholar, I thought that he would
take that department of instruction, and that I had better
pursue the mathematics, a study better suited to my taste than
any other. When Matthew entered as a student at Lincoln’s Inn,
all my plans and hopes were disarranged. I have been long
undetermined how to proceed, and lately I made up my mind to
pursue the study of languages, as I considered a classical
knowledge as absolutely necessary to the master of a school;
but now Arthur has taken that department, and as I have no
doubt he will manage it well, I shall pursue my mathematical
studies with increased ardour.”

The young master soon gave proof of his vigour:—

“_June 17th, 1818._—This evening and the last some of our
boys performed the whole of Plautus’s ‘Captives.’ They were
astonishingly perfect.

* * * * *

“_July 20th, 1820._—In Arthur I find a most able ally in the
executive part of the business. His application is almost
incessant, and I am sorry to say it has materially injured his
eyesight. Under his care the boys have made wonderful progress
in the classics. We have found that frequent exercise in Latin
dialogue has been of the greatest use in the acquirement of
that language: for this purpose an act of a Latin play is
learned and performed every month. At the same time other boys
are engaged in shorter Latin dialogues, in Greek recitation,
and in the performance of scenes from the works of the French
dramatists. The very frequent rehearsals which are necessary,
the circumstance of their being engaged in a real conversation,
frequently speaking of real and tangible objects, familiarizes
them wonderfully with the language they are using, and is, I
believe, the nearest approach that can be made to the mode in
which we learn our native language. For this, as well as for
many other valuable improvements, we are indebted to my brother
Matthew.”

A week or two earlier than the date of this entry their father had thus written about the two young men:—

“Rowland and Arthur are most laborious and successful fellows.
I hope that they are building a reputation that may make
them comfortable in their fortunes. But all that is human is
precarious. Time and chance must happen to them as to all. A
good conscience is the only treasure insured against all risks,
and this is a treasure which I trust my dear children will
never feel the want of.”

The school steadily rose in reputation and in numbers. Hill Top was before long found to be too confined for the swelling scene, and a new school-house was built.

“_December 21st, 1817._—During the holidays it is my intention
to finish the plans, &c., and to make a model of a new house,
which we intend to erect in the country, most probably at
Edgbaston.

“_December 20th, 1818._—A few days ago, without any
solicitation, or even a hint on my part, my father took me
into partnership: that is to say, all our business since has
been carried on under the firm of Thomas Wright Hill and Son.
I do not know whether my father intends to give me a share of
the profits of the business, and I shall say nothing about
it myself till he can better afford it, which, when we have
got over the difficulties occasioned by our building so large
a house, will I hope be very soon. Our school has slowly
increased for many years, and we have now upwards of seventy
boys.”

In the following passage he has recorded how he was his own architect and his own clerk of the works:—

“As the duty of architect devolved entirely on me, I had fallen
to drawing plans, designing elevations, &c., and after much
labour—for I believe I drew at least twenty plans in all—my
work being in a sufficiently forward state, a builder was
applied to for an estimate; but the amount he named being too
large for our means, I had gone to work a second time, and
formed, after many attempts at economy, an entirely new set of
plans, which considerably lowered the estimate; and on the more
moderate expense we resolved to venture.

“It was in the summer of 1818 that the building began. My
father having found that, with but slight deviation from
the line of road, the house might be made to stand in exact
coincidence with the cardinal points, would, I believe,
from that moment, have been almost more willing to abandon
the scheme than to lose such an opportunity of gratifying
his taste. For this purpose astronomical observations were
necessary; and my father, my brother Frederic, and I, sat up
the whole of one night (July 3rd) to determine the meridian.
Of course the middle part of the night was unoccupied, but
excitement kept us awake; and my brother Frederic, then a lad
of fifteen, no more sleepy than the rest, passed the time in
ascertaining by measurement and mental calculation the number
of bricks already on the ground. Such calculations occupying
the restless hours of the night were too common with more than
one member of our family, and most of all, I believe, with
myself. One night, some time after this, when the building
was completed, I passed a sleepless period in reckoning up
mentally the total payment to be made for painting, colouring,
and whitewashing the house from top to bottom. Having made the
plans, I had all the dimensions in memory; but the number of
rooms being large, their dimensions exceedingly various, and
the charge per square yard differing also in respect of the
description of paint used, number of coats, &c., there was
of course a good deal of complication. The calculation was,
however, completed. On the presentation of the bill I found
that the amount somewhat exceeded my calculation, but I soon
detected certain charges made contrary to agreement; and this
error being admitted by the contractor, the excess above my
estimate became so trifling that the bill was paid without
further examination.

“To return a little, I must mention that besides being
architect, I found myself compelled to act as clerk of the
works, as without sharp daily inspection—hourly would have
been better if I could have spared the time—there were
constant departures from the contract, some of which would
have proved very injurious to the building. As I had the main
responsibility of the school during most of the time, and no
vehicle at command, the two miles and back having therefore
always to be performed on foot, the work was very heavy,
though probably the exercise involved was beneficial. In July,
1819, the house being finished, to which we gave the name of
Hazelwood, the school was removed thither; and in our larger
and more commodious premises we were enabled to make various
improvements hitherto impracticable.”[56]

The responsibility that he had incurred weighed heavily on him, as more than one passage in his Journal shows:—

“I am very sanguine that the change of situation will be much
to our advantage. If such is not the case, I shall be very
miserable, as although the determination to build has been made
with the consent and decided approbation of every member of the
family, yet I have been the prime mover in the business, and
have become, as it were, the responsible person. I must own
that I am a little anxious about it.”

A year later (June 17th, 1819), writing to his eldest brother, he says:—

“This is an anxious time to us all. I hope the experiment will
succeed. If it does not, I shall be very miserable, as I have
been prime mover in inducing them to try it. But, however, at
present everything promises well.”

His cares were soon lessened. The venture was found to be a sound one, and the new building thoroughly answered its purpose.

“We find that comfort we expected from the superior convenience
of the house. Every one who visits it is delighted with its
plan, and it is so seldom that a house is built purposely for
a school that it has been the object of considerable interest.
At present we have every reason to be satisfied with our
determination to remove from Hill Top.”

He had seen but twenty-four years, and though old when measured by work, he was young enough thoroughly to enjoy his complete success. Three years later “Public Education” was brought out, and Hazelwood School became famous. It was while the book was ready for publication that the young enthusiast had pleased himself with the belief that the improvements which he and his brothers were making in the science of education would render their name illustrious in after ages. How bright for a brief time this vision was, and how it quickly faded away, I shall show later on. Here I shall make a break in my narrative, while I recount some of the incidents of his boyhood and early manhood.