A BLIND MAN WHO BECAME POSTMASTER-GENERAL OF ENGLAND.
On August 26th, 1833, just four years before Queen Victoria began to
reign, Henry Fawcett was born at Salisbury, England. He was sent to
a Dame's school where he did not get on very well. The teacher said
that he had a head like a colander, and he was so slow in learning
his lessons that he became known as the dunce of the class. Young
Harry himself admitted that he did not enjoy school. He loved to be
out in the open and in the woods, but he went like a snail,
unwillingly, to school.
There was one thing which never failed him and that was his appetite.
He was always complaining that he did not get enough to eat. When
his family moved away from Salisbury Harry went to a boarding-school,
and in nearly every letter he wrote home he said he was nearly
starving. In one letter to his mother he said: "Please, when the
family has quite finished with the ham bone, send it on to me."
However, in spite of his complaints, he grew stronger and bigger
every day, until by the time he was ten he was several inches taller
than his school mates of his own age.
When he was fourteen he was sent to a school known as Queenwood
College and he began to take more interest in his studies. He worked
hard while at this school and when he was nineteen he entered the
famous Cambridge University. Henry Fawcett was popular with the
other students from the first day that he entered Cambridge. He was
very tall--over six feet three inches in height--and he moved around
the college halls and over the campus with enormous long strides. He
had an exceedingly happy and good-natured disposition and was welcome
everywhere.
His greatest ambition in life was to fit himself for service as a
member of the British Parliament. He desired to enter Parliament for
no other reason than that of serving his fellowmen. There were so
many laws which seemed to him to be cruel and unjust; so many heavy
burdens weighing upon the shoulders of the poorer classes, that he
longed with all his heart to be in a position where he could help to
make things better.
In order to fit himself for Parliament he began to study law, but he
had considerable trouble with his eyes. This was so serious that he
was forbidden to do any reading until they were better. He did not
complain, but obeyed the physician's orders. He went to stay with
his family at Salisbury. It was during this visit that a terrible
thing happened. On the morning of September 15, of 1858, he and his
father began to climb Harnham Hill, from which a very fine view of
the surrounding country could be obtained. Both father and son had
their guns, for they hoped to secure some partridge. As they were
crossing a field, Henry advanced in front of his father. A partridge
arose and the father, who did not see just how near Henry was, fired,
and some of the stray shot entered Henry's eyes, and from that moment
until his death he was totally blind.
Henry Fawcett was just twenty-five when this terrible accident
happened. He was taken back to his father's house in a cart. He
remained perfectly calm as he listened to the doctor's verdict. The
curtain had fallen and never again could he see the things which
other people saw, nor read the books and papers he so dearly loved.
But from that day until his death, twenty-six years later, no one
ever heard him complain nor give any outward sign of the terrible
disappointment which he must have felt. He did not wish people to
openly sympathize with him, and the scores of letters which he
received from well-meaning people, intended to console him in his
misfortune, really gave him pain. He wanted people to forget that he
was blind and treat him as one of themselves.
He straightway determined that he would continue to prepare himself
to serve the people in Parliament. He knew that he was handicapped,
in such manner as perhaps no other statesman had ever been, still he
showed a courage and perseverance which was extraordinary.
Soon after his accident he began to walk about in the open. He
naturally stumbled at his first step. When some one caught him by
the arm to pick him up he said: "Leave me alone; I've got to learn to
walk without seeing and I mean to begin at once--only tell me when I
am going off the road."
All who knew Henry Fawcett at this time bear witness to his amazing
courage and cheerfulness. If he had a heavy heart, he said nothing
of it to others. Especially was this true in his relations with his
father and mother. Whenever he was with them he was the life of the
home, full of mischief as a schoolboy, and with a hearty laugh that
made the house ring. "I want to live to be ninety," he said, and he
meant it. He was the soul of kindness and good nature. No one ever
knew him to say a cruel or unkind thing, or to spread a report that
would injure any one. Throughout his life he sought to promote
good-will and understanding and he was never happier than when he was
helping some one who was in difficulty.
He had a remarkable memory for voices--that is a faculty which often
becomes acute in blind people. It was said of him that if he heard a
voice once he never forgot it. Sometimes when spoken to by a person
whom he had not heard for many years, a puzzled look would cross his
face, but it would suddenly clear up as he called the person by name.
His sense of hearing became so keen that he could tell when his
friends were not feeling as well as usual from their voices. Often
he would startle them by saying: "What's the matter with you to-day,
you're looking pale?" A man who had not been near him for twenty
years once spoke to him and without a moment's hesitation Fawcett
called him by name.
Henry Fawcett made two unsuccessful attempts to enter Parliament. He
was defeated in Cambridge in 1863 by only eighty-one votes and a few
months later he was defeated in Brighton. Many people voted against
him because they thought that blindness was too severe a handicap for
any man to become really useful in that great assembly. He himself
did not think so, however, and he made a third attempt in 1865--when
he was thirty-two years of age--and this time he was elected.
It was a proud day for Henry Fawcett when he entered Parliament.
After he became blind no one, not even those who loved him most,
believed that it was possible. Only a determination that absolutely
refused to be thwarted, made his election possible.
Surrounded by many of the greatest statesmen of the nineteenth
century, the blind man quietly took his place in Parliament. During
his first session there he said very little. He had to learn the
ways of Parliament, which is a difficult task for any one, and made
much harder in his case. He made his first speech in March, 1866.
Unlike most men he had no notes to help him. He had to rely
altogether upon his fine memory. His speech was listened to with
rapt attention. The picture of this tall, sightless man with earnest
voice and manner, cast a spell over the House, and even those who
disagreed with him were deeply impressed by his fine appearance and
earnest manner.
In the years which followed Henry Fawcett made a great many speeches
in Parliament. He was by no means a silent member. In every good
cause which came up for discussion his voice was heard, and always on
the side of those who needed help. Not only the struggling people of
the British Isles interested him, but for several years he fought
very hard on behalf of the poor people in far-off India. He became
such a champion of the Indians that he was nicknamed, "The member for
India," and he received many letters expressing deep gratitude from
those people whom he could never hope to see.
He entered into a great many political battles, but there was one
thing which even his opponents admitted; that was he never sought
anything for himself. He laboured hard to help those whose lot he
considered was less fortunate than his own.
In 1880 Henry Fawcett was made Postmaster-General of England, a
position of very great importance and responsibility. There were
over ninety thousand employees under the administration of the
postoffice.
One bright spring day Henry Fawcett took up his duties at the General
Post Office. He was introduced to the heads of the various
departments and to those next in rank. As he began to warmly shake
the hands of all to whom he was being introduced, some one whispered
to him, "It is not usual for Her Majesty's Postmaster-General to
shake hands with any one in the office below the rank of head of a
department." It took a good deal to make Henry Fawcett indignant,
but that remark pretty nearly did it. He said, "I suppose I am at
liberty to make what use I like of my own hands."
He took a very great interest in all who in any way served the Post
Office. From the first day that he took over his position he
laboured hard to improve working conditions. He interested himself
in every employee and nothing ever seemed too much trouble to this
blind man of almost infinite patience and sympathy. No doubt his
wonderful kindness meant that some took unfair advantage of him, but
he found his supreme happiness in realizing that never before in the
history of the great English Post-Office system had the work been
done so thoroughly and to the satisfaction of the public. One of the
great statesmen of that day said that, "The Postoffice could never
have a more capable Postmaster-General, nor its officers a truer
friend."
In December, 1883, he was taken seriously ill with diphtheria, and
this was followed by typhoid fever. For a while his life was
despaired of, and it illustrates what a large place in the life of
his country the blind man had filled, to know that all England read
the bulletins which told of his condition. The Queen herself,
telegraphed every day, and sometimes oftener.
Mr. Fawcett recovered from this illness and was soon at work again as
hard as ever. The following year he was honoured with degrees from
many great universities, including Oxford and Glasgow. Then in
November, 1884, he was taken suddenly ill and quietly passed away in
the presence of his wife and daughter and several friends. He who
had lived in total darkness for nearly thirty years; years in which
he was never once heard to murmur or complain, passed into the
eternal light of God's presence.
A whole nation mourned deeply when this man of such magnificent
courage was laid to rest in the quiet churchyard at Salisbury, where
he had been born. Tributes to his memory were paid to him by the
greatest in the land. Queen Victoria wrote a most touching letter to
his widow, and Hon. W. E. Gladstone said that no man had become more
deeply enshrined in the memory of his fellow-countrymen. The
terrible handicap of blindness had not prevented Henry Fawcett from
becoming one of the greatest men of his generation.