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A BEACON FOR THE BLIND
[Illustration: _Photo. Emery Walker_
PROFESSOR AND MRS. FAWCETT
From the painting by Ford Madox Brown,
now in the National Portrait Gallery]
A BEACON FOR THE BLIND
Being a Life of Henry Fawcett
the Blind Postmaster-General
by
WINIFRED HOLT
‘He that is greatest among you
let him be servant of all.’
Boston and New York
Houghton Mifflin Company
1914
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
TO THE FIVE ON TWO CONTINENTS
WHO MADE ITS WRITING POSSIBLE——
IN ENGLAND, B. T. AND F. DE G. E.
IN AMERICA, E. H. B., H. H.
AND R. H.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
FOREWORD
BY
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE VISCOUNT BRYCE
LATE BRITISH AMBASSADOR TO AMERICA
There has been no more striking example in our time of how self-reliance
and strength of purpose can triumph over adverse fortune than that
presented by the career of Henry Fawcett. The story of his life as it is
to be told in this book will give ample illustrations of his fortitude
and his perseverance. All that I, an old friend of his, need speak of is
a quality hardly less remarkable than was his energy. I mean his
cheerfulness. It was specially wonderful and admirable in one afflicted
as he was. Nothing would seem so to cut a man off from his fellows as
the loss of sight, nor would it appear possible to enjoy the charms of
external nature without seeing them. Fawcett, however, delighted in
society. He never moped. He loved to be among his friends, and found an
inexhaustible pleasure in talk wherever he was, in his College (Trinity
Hall, Cambridge), at London dinner-parties, in the lobbies or
smoking-room of the House of Commons. If he had moments of sadness in
solitude we knew nothing of them, for in company he was always bright.
His greetings were joyous; his good spirits proverbial at Cambridge, and
indeed in all the circles that knew him, making his friends feel, in any
moments of depression that might come upon them, half ashamed to be less
cheery than one with whom fate had dealt so hardly. Without this natural
buoyancy of temper, even such a resolute will as his might have failed
to achieve so much as he achieved. He seemed determined to hold on to
every possible source of enjoyment he had ever known before sight was
lost. That determination used to strike me most in his fondness for
open-air nature and physical exercise. He loved not only walking but
riding. I remember how once when I was staying with him in the same
country house in Surrey, our host arranged a long excursion on horseback
through the lanes and woods of the pretty country that lies on both
sides of the North Downs, to the south-west of London. Fawcett insisted
on being one of the party, and when he approached a place where the
bridle-path ran through a wood of beeches, whose spreading boughs came
down almost to the height of the horses’ heads, he said to me, ‘Tell me
to duck my head whenever we come to a spot where the branches are low.’
I felt uneasy, for if he had struck against one of the thick boughs, he
might have been unhorsed and would certainly have been hurt. However, I
went in front and warned him as he had desired. He rode on fearlessly,
stooping low over the horse’s neck whenever I called out to him to do
so, and he evidently enjoyed the fresh scent of the woods and the
rustling of the leaves just as much as did all the rest of us.
His love of nature, joined to his sympathy with the masses of the
people, made him eager to secure the preservation of public rights in
commons and village greens and footpaths. He was one of the founders of
that Commons Preservation Society which has done so much to save open
spaces in England from the grasp of the spoiler; frequently attended its
meetings, and was always ready to vote and speak in the House of Commons
when any question involving popular rights in the land arose there.
At a time when extremely few non-official persons in Parliament
interested themselves in the government and administration of India,
Fawcett, though he had never visited the East, and had no family
connection with it, felt, and set himself to impress upon others, the
grave responsibility of Britain for the welfare of the peoples of India.
He studied with characteristic thoroughness and assiduity the facts and
conditions of Indian life, the financial problems those conditions
involve, the needs and feelings of the subject population. His speeches
were of the greatest value in calling public attention to these
subjects, and his name is gratefully remembered in India.
His mental powers were remarkable rather for strength than for subtlety.
It was an eminently English intellect, forcible in its broad commonsense
way of looking at things, and in its disposition to pass by side issues
and refinements in order to go straight to the main conclusions he
desired to enforce. This was what chiefly gave weight to his speeches in
Parliament and on the platform. Debarred as he was from the use of
writing, he formed the habit of thinking out fully beforehand both what
he meant to say and the words in which he meant to say it, and thus he
became a master of lucid statement and cogent argument, making each of
his points sharp and clear, and driving them home in a way which every
listener could comprehend. The same merits of directness and coherency
are conspicuous in his writings on political economy, his favourite
study. There were no dark corners in his mind any more than in his
political creed, or indeed in his course of action as a statesman. In
practical politics, it was said of him, to use a familiar phrase, that
you always knew where to find him. That was one of the qualities which
secured for him not only the confidence of his political friends but the
respect of his political opponents. When he died prematurely he had
reached a position in the House of Commons which would have secured his
early admission to the Cabinet, and the only doubt I ever heard raised
was whether his blindness, which would have made it necessary that
documents, however confidential, should be read aloud to him, would have
constituted a fatal obstacle.
The force of his character and the vigour of his intellect must have
ensured him a distinguished career even had he been stricken by no
calamity. That he should have been stricken by one which would have
overwhelmed almost any other man, and should have triumphed over it by
his cheerful and persistent courage, marks him out as an extraordinary
man, worthy to be long remembered.
BRYCE.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
INTRODUCTION
‘I wish we had Fawcett here to-day. At this crisis England needs him
sorely.’ These words, said with much feeling by the late Lord Avebury,
were spoken to the writer of this book only two years ago.
Fawcett is not needed only in England. His is the type of man needed
sorely to-day and every day in every empire and democracy under the sun.
His example of valour against odds is just as necessary for America as
for the Mother Country, for the men who are now doing the world’s work
as for the lads who will be at work to-morrow.
Sir Leslie Stephen said that while writing the biography of Fawcett,
there was not a single fact which he had to conceal, nothing to explain
away, nothing to apologise for, and he judged the best way to do his
subject honour was to tell the plain story as fully and as frankly as he
could.
Sir Leslie wrote with the reticent dignity of one recently grieving for
the loss of his friend; the present writer will have executed her task
if she has succeeded in throwing a more personal light on the heroic
figure of Fawcett.
This little book has no pretensions. It endeavours merely to preserve
carefully and reverently glimpses and flashes—which might have otherwise
been lost—of a great life, a life of deep significance not only to those
who see, but especially to those who, like Fawcett, must depend for
their vision on that inner eye which no calamity can darken.
When he lost his sight, Fawcett had his fixed manner of life, his tastes
and ambitions, and he was painfully forced to readjust himself to
altered aspects. The tracing of the beneficent effect of this necessity
on a man of his strong mind, body and will, is a psychological study of
deep interest.
His attitude towards questions that are still vital, such as the
treatment of dependent peoples, the widening of the suffrage and the
perfecting of its machinery, make his personality still unique, modern
and absorbing.
A nearer view of the man, seen through the recollections and anecdotes
of his friends, shows his intense love of fun, his high ideals and
bravery, his tremendous industry and accomplishment.
The author is grateful for permission to use the facsimiles of the
letters of Queen Victoria and the Prince of Wales (King Edward).
She is also deeply obliged for the help given by reminiscences and
anecdotes from the Right Honourable the late Lord Avebury; Dr. Beck,
Master of Trinity Hall, Cambridge; Dr. Henry Bond; the Right Honourable
Viscount Bryce, late British Ambassador to America; Sir Francis
Campbell; the late Robert Campbell, Esq.; the Honourable Joseph H.
Choate, late American Ambassador to Great Britain; Lord and Lady
Courtney; Sir Alfred Dale; the late Sir Robert Hunter; the late Sir
William Lee-Warner, G.C.S.I.; the Right Honourable Viscount Morley; Lady
Ritchie, Miss McCleod Smith; the Right Honourable the late James Stuart,
Esq., and Mr. Sedley Taylor.
She is particularly indebted to Miss Fawcett, the sister of Mr. Fawcett,
and to Mrs. Fawcett, his widow, for their assistance. Their interest in
the book was a great stimulus towards its writing. Mr. F. J. Dryhurst,
C.B., who from 1871 to 1884 was secretary to Mr. Fawcett, has been a
great aid in preparing the book. The greatest assistance has been given
by Miss de Grasse Evans and Miss Beatrice Taylor, without whose sympathy
and help in various stages of the work its completion might have been
impossible.
It has been inevitable that Sir Leslie’s biography should be largely
quarried. His arrangement of facts has been followed as the simplest and
most logical framework for the story, and descriptions of scenes which
he and his friends witnessed, and stories of Fawcett not elsewhere
given, have been used. The admiration and gratitude of the novice for
help from the master biographer is here humbly recorded.
This book should enhance the interest of the older biography, which
perhaps may be reintroduced after many years oblivion—as it has been out
of print—by its younger and less formal companion.
The material to be had has been used and adapted as it might best serve,
and the narrative has not been interrupted to give its source; it is
believed that this policy will be in accordance with the wishes of those
of Mr. Fawcett’s appreciators who have so generously helped.
The more we know about this brave, patient and humorous man, the more
inspiration we get; and to help us to achieve and to rejoice—never was
inspiration more sorely needed than to-day! It is in the hope of
supplying a little of this great need that this brief story of a
steadfast life is written.
WINIFRED HOLT.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
PAGE
FOREWORD BY THE RIGHT HON. VISCOUNT BRYCE vii
INTRODUCTION xiii
YOUTH
CHAPTER I. WATERLOO, THE MAYOR AND THE BABY 3
The Fisherman—The Battle of Waterloo—The Mayor of Salisbury—the
Mayor’s Son—The Market-place—The Circus—Boarding-School and
Fun—A Diary
CHAPTER II. THE BOY LECTURER 11
A Lecture on the Uses of Steam—Parliamentary Ambitions—King’s
College—Politics in the Fifties—Cribbage and Cricket
CAMBRIDGE
CHAPTER III. THE TALL STUDENT 25
Peterhouse—Quoits and Billiards—Trinity Hall—A
Fellowship—Lincoln’s Inn
CHAPTER IV. A SET BACK 35
A Trip to France—Wiltshire French—A Discouragement
WINNING BACK
CHAPTER V. DARKNESS 43
A Shooting Accident—Blindness—Readjustment
CHAPTER VI. HAPPINESS 54
The clear-sighted Man—A Scot’s Accent—Mountain
Climbing—Skating—Riding, etc.
CHAPTER VII. DISTRACTION 63
Fishing—In the House of Commons—Need for Distraction—What Helen
Keller thinks—Sir Francis Campbell—Leap Frog—Despair and
Cheer—Paupers and Political Economy
CAMBRIDGE AGAIN
CHAPTER VIII. THE PROBLEM OF THE POOR 75
A Prime Object—Lincoln—Leslie Stephen—Daily Life at
Cambridge—Deepening interest in Social Questions
CHAPTER IX. THE GOOD SAMARITAN 84
‘Ask Fawcett’—The Ancient Mariners and the Diplomat—Christmas
Exceedings—Fawcett as Host—A Bore Foiled—The British
Association
CHAPTER X. THE YOUNG ECONOMIST 94
Championing Darwin—Darwin at Down—Salisbury gossip—Meeting
Mill—Fawcett for Lincoln and the Union—John Bright’s Dog—Chair
of Political Economy
THE PROFESSOR OF POLITICAL ECONOMY
CHAPTER XI. A PROGRAMME OF HELPFULNESS 111
Triumphing over Blindness—The Professor’s Audience—Free Trade
and Protection—The Luxury of Light—The Malady of Poverty
CHAPTER XII. THE SCHOOLS OF THE POOR 119
Need of non-secular Education—Charity and Pauperism—Friendship
with Working-Men—The Voice that Linked
CHAPTER XIII. THE NEW M.P. AND THE CLUB 127
Thackeray and the Reform Club—The Popular M.P.—The Assassination
of Lincoln—Marriage
CHAPTER XIV. THE WOMAN AND THE VOTE 135
The Home in London—Sympathy with Woman Suffrage—The Blind
Gardener—Clubs—Hatred of Flunkeyism
THE NEW M.P.
CHAPTER XV. BLIND SUPERSTITIONS 143
Speech before the British Association—Mill again—Bright and Lord
Brougham—The Mythical Committee Room—Defeat at Southwark
CHAPTER XVI. PURE POLITICS 151
Defeat at Cambridge and Brighton—Routing a Chimæra—Elected the
Member for Brighton—The House of Commons
CHAPTER XVII. A PROPHETIC QUESTION IN PARLIAMENT 162
The Blind and Silent M.P.—His First Speech—Protecting Cattle,
neglecting Children—Industry earns Penury—Mill ‘out’
CHAPTER XVIII. GLADSTONE PRIME MINISTER 173
Opposition to Gladstone—‘The Most Thorough Radical Member in the
House’—Growing Dissatisfaction with the Government—The Irish
Universities Bill—Helping to Defeat his own Party
SAVING THE PEOPLE’s PLAYGROUNDS
CHAPTER XIX. THE STOLEN COMMONS 185
The Disappearance of the English Playgrounds and
Commons—Fawcett’s First Protest—The Annual Enclosure Bill
stopped by his Energetic Action
CHAPTER XX. THE FIGHT FOR THE FOREST 194
The Commons Preservation Society—The Saving of Epping Forest—The
Queen’s Rights—The Lords of the Manors’ Rights.—The People’s
Rights
CHAPTER XXI. FOR THE PEOPLE’S WOODS AND STREAMS 203
Saving the Forests—‘The Monstrous Notion’—Walking with Lord
Morley—The Boat Race—Safeguarding the Rivers
THE MEMBER FOR INDIA
CHAPTER XXII. WHAT INDIA PAID 217
India Pays for English Hospitality—Royal English Generosity to
India paid for by India—How to Deal with an Angry
Opponent—Indian Finance and the poor Ryot—Gratitude from
India—How Fawcett Prepared his Speeches
CHAPTER XXIII. THE ‘ONE MAN WHO CARED FOR INDIA’ 227
Defeated at Brighton—Spectacles and the Man—Elected for Hackney
CHAPTER XXIV. FAMINE, TURKS AND INDIANS 234
_Punch_ and Fawcett—The Indian Famine—Parliamentary Interest
Aroused in India—Bulgarian Atrocities—Afghanistan
War—Gladstone’s Faith in Fawcett—A £9,000,000 Mistake
A NEW KIND OF POSTMASTER-GENERAL
CHAPTER XXV. LIBERALS IN POWER 249
General Expectation that Fawcett would join the
Cabinet—Importance of a Fish—Postmaster-General—Queen Victoria
Interested—Post Office Problems—Scientific Business Management
Anticipated—Women’s Work—A Likeness to Lincoln
CHAPTER XXVI. FRESH AIR, BLUE RIBBONS AND POSTMEN 262
A Day with the Postmaster-General—How he Worked—Reform—The
Parcel Post
CHAPTER XXVII. THE PENNIES OF THE POOR 275
Cheap Postal Orders—Savings Bank—Life Insurance—Two Post Office
Pamphlets to Help the People—Cheap Telegrams—Telephones—‘The
Man for the Post’—‘Words are Silver, Silence is Gold’
A TRIUMPHANT END
CHAPTER XXVIII. AT HOME AND AT COURT 287
Appreciating Opponents—Hackney Address—Proportional
Representation—Justice for Women—A State Concert—Humble
Friendships—Pigs—Salisbury again
CHAPTER XXIX. A GRAVE ILLNESS 300
Illness—Convalescence—Musical Discrimination
CHAPTER XXX. AMONG THE BLIND 306
A Leader of the Blind—Honours—His Last Speech
CHAPTER XXXI. LIGHT 311
The Passing—The People Grieve—Sorrow in Parliament—The Nation’s
Loss—Letters from Queen Victoria, the Prince of Wales (the
late King Edward) and Gladstone—The Railroad Men’s Tribute—The
Significance of his Life—India’s Loss—Fawcett’s Message
HENRY FAWCETT, FROM ‘PUNCH’ 327
APPENDIX 329
INDEX 335
ILLUSTRATIONS
PROFESSOR AND MRS. FAWCETT _Frontispiece_
HENRY FAWCETT’S MOTHER _Facing page_ 6
HENRY FAWCETT BEFORE HE WAS BLIND „ 26
MISS MARIA FAWCETT „ 50
HENRY FAWCETT AT CAMBRIDGE, 1863 „ 102
HENRY FAWCETT AND MRS. FAWCETT „ 130
HENRY FAWCETT „ 180
HENRY FAWCETT AND HIS FATHER „ 204
HENRY FAWCETT „ 224
FAWCETT’S SIGNATURE AND SEAL AS „ 252
POSTMASTER-GENERAL OF ENGLAND
THE MAN FOR THE POST „ 272
THE NEW STAMP DUTY „ 276
HERE STANDS A POST „ 282
FACSIMILE OF A LETTER FROM QUEEN VICTORIA TO „ 316
MRS. FAWCETT
FACSIMILE OF A LETTER FROM THE PRINCE OF WALES „ 318
(KING EDWARD VII.) TO MRS. FAWCETT
MEMORIAL IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY „ 322
------------------------------------------------------------------------
YOUTH
------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘Where the pools are bright and deep,
Where the gray trout lies asleep,
Up the river and over the lea,
That’s the way for Billy and me.’
JAMES HOGG.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER I
WATERLOO, THE MAYOR, AND THE BABY
The Fisherman—The Battle of Waterloo—The Mayor of Salisbury—The
Mayor’s Son—The Market-place—The Circus—Boarding-School and
Fun—A Diary.
One midsummer day in 1815 a young draper’s assistant was gently fishing
in the Salisbury Avon. William Fawcett was but lately come to Salisbury,
yet he already knew his river. While trying a deep pool in the shadow of
a bridge near the town he was startled by shouts from the roadway above.
‘News from the army! A great victory! Boney in flight!’
The fisherman forgot his fish, and hurried away to join the rejoicing
crowd gathering in the market-place. There having been bustled to the
roof of a stage-coach, and had the gazette containing the news thrust
into his hands, he read out in his remarkably clear and resonant voice
the account of the great battle of Waterloo.
[Sidenote: Rejoicings.]
Seventeen years later, when the shopkeeper had become the Mayor of
Salisbury, he again led the town in rejoicings. The great Reform Bill
had become law. Salisbury townsfolk were henceforth to have a voice in
the councils of the nation, and the barren hill on which stood the
pocket borough of old Sarum was no longer to mock them with its
political power.
The town joyously prepared to celebrate the event. The houses were
decorated. Elaborate illuminations were set up. Victory, assisted by
Greek gods and goddesses, presided over a transparency in which
Britannia throttled the hydra of corruption, while Wellington and Peel
scowled in the background. Meat and beer were given to the poor; in the
market-place, at great fires lighted in the open air, whole sheep were
roasted. The smoke swirled blindly about the bustling crowd, and then
surged up past the latticed windows of the Mayor’s house, to seek in
ever thinning rifts the spire of the wonderful cathedral that for
centuries has watched over the destinies of the town. The next day was
held in the market-place a great banquet, at which the Mayor presided;
and after dinner all adjourned to the Green Croft Cricket Ground, where
his Worship led off the dance with a prominent and elderly lady of the
town—the Mayor resplendent in plaited shirt frill and high stock, the
buckles on his shoes twinkling as he cut ‘pigeon wings,’ the lady sedate
in her wide brocade gown, her poke bonnet, and lace veil.
Fawcett’s heart was as light as his heels on that occasion. All his life
he had been a reformer, a staunch Liberal, ardent for the extension of
the franchise. It says much for his personal charm and worth that, in a
close Tory borough such as Salisbury then was, he should have been
chosen Mayor by his political opponents.
[Sidenote: The Mayor and his Wife.]
So dear to his heart was the spirit of freedom that the Mayor had
forsooth to fall in love with the daughter of the solicitor who acted as
agent for the Liberal party. Miss Mary Cooper was a good and clever
woman, deeply interested in politics, and as ardent a reformer as the
man she married.
The couple were sociable and humorous. They kept a good table, laid in
an excellent stock of wine, and diffused such a pleasant atmosphere of
hospitality that they became immensely popular, and many distinguished
people sought their company. But William Fawcett was not only a good
townsman, he was a good countryman as well, a great jumper, a keen
sportsman, a good shot, and a renowned fisherman.
[Sidenote: The Brick-house Baby.]
In 1833, when the Princess Victoria was fourteen years old, when the
negro slaves were being freed throughout the British Colonies, when
Stephenson had completed his locomotive and the first railroads had been
started, when all things seemed to be pushing and striving for
independence and progress, in the Mayor’s old low red-brick house
overlooking the market-place, in a wonderful Elizabethan room, on 26th
August, Henry Fawcett was born.
The baby seems to have been singularly like most other babies. He shared
the uneventful placidity of his nursery with an older brother, William,
and a sister, Sarah Maria. Six years later there came another brother,
Thomas Cooper.
[Sidenote: The Market.]
When Harry was four years old Queen Victoria, whom he was to serve in so
distinguished a capacity, came to the throne. But it was still too early
to find in Harry indications of the future statesman. He was delicate,
and much spoiled at home, had a strong will of his own, and was on the
whole rather selfish. He was not an imaginative child, though he loved
at times, holding his sister Maria tightly by the hand, to venture into
the great cathedral and see the coloured light as it filtered through
the high windows, or to thrill in response to the thundering of the
great organ. But more often we find him, still very tiny, standing
squarely on his feet, inquiring with real interest the price of bacon,
how much sheep and wool brought; or walking with his father and wearying
him with ceaseless economic questions as to ‘Why are things cheaper
to-day than last month?’ ‘Why does butter cost more than milk?’ until
that patient man was heard to exclaim not too patiently, ‘Harry asks me
so many questions that he quite worries me.’
[Illustration: HENRY FAWCETT’s MOTHER]
He went to a Dame’s school, where his first teacher said that she had
never had so troublesome a pupil, that his head was like a colander; but
Harry puts the case more pathetically when he tells his mother that
‘Mrs. Harris says if we go on, we shall kill her, and we do go on,’
regretfully adding, ‘and yet she does not die.’ A schoolmate of these
days says that Harry lisped very much, and that the boys used to tease
him about it. He was also so slow about his lessons that they called him
thickhead. But when school was out Harry entered the realms he loved.
From his home on the market-place he had only to go outside the door to
be at once in touch with the active world whose economic problems
appealed to him so keenly. He made friends among the country folk, and
talked of their crops and the money they would bring, and noted in his
childish mind the rise and fall in the price of wheat.
[Sidenote: The Circus.]
Then to the same open space came all sorts of travelling shows.
Sometimes the circus spread its mysterious tents, and when the children
were dragged away from the wild beasts and the seductive freaks and put
to bed, the little Fawcetts would stealthily creep to the bedroom window
overlooking the market and see the lights shining on all the wonderful
but forbidden marvels, and hear the hurdy-gurdy and the band mix their
triumphal blare with the solemn striking of the clock in the near-by
cathedral.
[Sidenote: Boarding-School.]
In 1841 Harry’s father took a delightful farmhouse at Longford, about
three miles south of Salisbury, with delectable streams full of fish.
Harry loved to fish every day, and hated lessons, but, alas! grim fate
backed the lessons, and sent him ruthlessly to school. He went as a
boarder to Mr. Sopp at Alderbury, a few miles away.
There are many tales showing that Harry loved the fleshpots and that he
had been much indulged at home. He writes, ‘I have begun Ovid—I hate
it.’ ‘This is a beastly school—milk and water, no milk—bread and butter,
no butter. Please give a quarter’s notice.’
And still more heartrending was the prayer to his mother, ‘Please when
the family has quite finished with the ham bone, send it to me.’
Imagination can supply the effect of this on the family circle, and
guess what a well-covered ham bone was shipped to the starving Harry.
Starving or no, he grew immensely stronger and larger, and though he
never admitted that he got enough to eat at any school, he became
ultimately reconciled to his exile.
He used to come home often for half-holidays, and to go to Longford and
revel in all country delights. Then began the close friendships with the
cottagers about him which meant so much to him and influenced all his
life.
In the summer that completed his tenth year there came to Salisbury two
men who also loved the common people and sought to make their lives
easier. It was the year of the great Free Trade campaign in the
agricultural districts, and the men were Cobden and Bright. They visited
Harry’s father, and perhaps Harry himself met them then for the first
time. Lord Morley has said in his life of Cobden that ‘the picture of
these two men, leaving their homes and their business, and going over
the length and breadth of the land to convert the nation, had about it
something apostolic.’ In a home where they and their teachings were so
reverenced, to even hear of their journeyings would make a strong
impression on a boy of Harry’s interests, and perhaps helped to give a
definite aim to his ambitions.
At Mr. Sopp’s school he began a diary, of which the penmanship is
admirable. On some days the only record is the startling fact, ‘It was a
very fine day.’ June 21st, 1847, however, is a very eventful day, for he
lists the capture of the first fish that he took with a fly, which
weighed ‘about three-quarters of a pound.’
[Sidenote: Hedgehogs and Cake.]
Again, he is transported with joy by the gift of a hedgehog and four
young ones, and he has a glorious time in going on board H.M.S. _Howe_,
of one hundred and twenty guns. On one occasion he goes to the theatre,
on another he is in court hearing a trial. He begins Greek, and this
anguish is modified by the arrival of a cake for one of his
schoolfellows, which Harry doubtless shares.
A change of scene is recorded in the diary when on 3rd August Henry
becomes the first pupil at Queenwood College. In its previous career
this temple of learning had been Harmony Hall, built by Robert Owen for
his last socialist experiment. In 1817 it was opened as a school by Mr.
Edmonson, a Quaker. Special emphasis was given to scientific training
and English literature. The school seems to have been very congenial to
Harry, and his intellect now began to develop rapidly.
[Sidenote: The Editor.]
To continue from the diary, we learn that ‘we elected the various school
officers. J. Mansergh and I were elected without opposition editors of
the _Queenwood Chronicle_.’ He had been at Queenwood but a fortnight,
and was fourteen years old when this great honour came to him. Mr.
Fawcett was delighted at this good news, and offered because of it and
because Harry had been ’studying most determinedly’ to take the boy to
Stonehenge. His aversion to books had distressed his family, and this
new interest in his studies gave his father great pleasure. On reading a
composition which Harry had sent home, Mr. Fawcett exclaimed to his
wife, ‘I really think, mother, after all that there is something in that
boy!’ His literary performances at this time indicate an increasing
imagination, but in the main he never deviated from the practical paths
of thought shown when as a tiny child he studiously investigated the
Salisbury market. His schoolmates report him as ‘tall for his age,
loose-limbed, and rather ungainly.’ He had become much of a bookworm,
and though later good at games, at this time he preferred to wander off
by himself and read. He was strongest in mathematics; languages did not
much appeal to him; but he liked to learn long passages of poetry by
heart. There was a disused chalk-pit near Queenwood where he would take
refuge and declaim his lines. The extravagance of his gesticulations
might well cause unexpecting passers-by to consider him the village
loony.