The Thing that Hath Been: or, a Young Man's mistakes

Front matter

THE THING THAT HATH BEEN OR A YOUNG MAN'S MISTAKES ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS. THE THING THAT HATH BEEN OR A YOUNG MAN'S MISTAKES BY ARTHUR HERMAN GILKES MASTER OF DULWICH COLLEGE LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET CONTENTS. CHAP- PAGE I. The Headmaster, ..... i II. The Mother, 16 III. John Martin, 33 IV. Corruptio Optimi, ..... 45 V. Two Extremes Meet 52 VI. "Si foret in Terris," .... 68 VII. Martin Settles Himself at Home and at School, 78 VIII. The New Labourer and the Vineyard, 93 IX. Vine Dressing, . . . . .111 X. John Martin at Home, . . . .119 XI. A Blind Guide, 133 XII. School Life and the Directors of it, 151 XIII. More School Life, .... 166 XIV. A Bold Operation, ..... 187 XV. Pay Day, 194 XVI. John's Chief Patient, .... 206 XVII. Treatment, 219 XVIII.

Another Opinion, 226 XIX. Another Patient, 241 XX. Unqualified, 258 XXI. The Headmaster's Dilemma, . 268 XXII. A Battle Declined, . . . .291 XXIII. Desiderium 310 XXIV. New Fields, OR, A YOUNG MAN'S MISTAKES.

Chapter I. The

headmaster. A school is something very different to the different people who have to do with it. Of boys, for instance, some greatly enjoy their school life, though they may be to some degree unconscious of the fact until the time comes when it is nearly finished. Others, generally because they have some quality developed in excess, dislike it and grumble at it. Some allow their school to guide them to what is honourable and profit able, and some make it a place where they dili gently prepare their own ruin. Masters also have different ways of regarding it : to some it is simply the source of their income ; to others, a place which gives them the opportunity of gratifying their instincts of direction ; to others, a place where they are bullied as masters I ; 2 almost as much as they were once bullied as boys.

Some masters like schoolmastering because of the holidays, and some because of the games, and some because of their favour ites. And there are some certainly who like it because they find in it the chance of bringing to a proper development the body mind and spirit of each of their pupils. In the case of parents again, to some a school is simply an institution which relieves them of the care of their children during a great part of the year, — a part which they would often like to make greater ; to others, it is a place where boys and masters carry on warfare, in which, as far as terms and treaties go, masters are victorious, though the honours remain with the boys, who reap the fruits of victory and evade education. Other parents, who are in many cases non conformists, believe that at school boys and masters live in sincere harmony, only broken by brief intervals, in which boys kiss the rod and masters throw it away, amid general emotion.

To others, it is simply a place which causes them to make a sacrifice to conven tionality by paying enormous sums of money three times a year ; to others, a place where there are cricket grounds and a racquet court, and some young noblemen ; from one or other of which they hope that their boys will reap some kind of advantage. Others, again, con sider that they send their sons to school as to a place where they may acquire a certain quantity of book-learning which they may afterwards sell for hard cash in the market of life. And some parents there are to whom school is a place from which they hope for a true education for their children, who watch their development there, trying to eliminate what is mischievous and encourage what is good, and communicating with masters for this purpose with consideration, pleasant tem per and judgment.

As Dr. Pinches took his solitary walk after second lesson, he found himself wishing some what bitterly that there were more parents of the kind last mentioned. Dr. Pinches was the headmaster of the great school of Stratton, which was about thirty miles from London, on the Midland line of railway. It was the month of October, and the boys had lately come back to school for the Michaelmas term. Dr. Pinches walked because exercise was neces- ; 4 sary to him, and he had never taken it other wise than by walking ; and he walked alone, partly because he was headmaster, and partly because he was vexed. He was vexed because he felt dissatisfied with the state of the school. The Thucydides had been said badly that morning : it was true that the lesson had been a part of the Melian dialogue; still it had not been prepared.

Of the elegiac exercises three copies were shown up unfinished, and one of these was the exercise of the head boy of the school. That morning's post had brought him information that of ten boys who had gone to Oxford, five had failed in the examination in lieu of Responsions, to give it the title which it bore when mentioned to him, and had failed in arithmetic. By this failure he was unpleas antly reminded of the report of the midsummer examination, in which it was declared that the boys of the sixth form were practically ignorant of mathematics. As he thought of these matters, he contracted his brow, drew down the corners of his mouth, and looked malignly on the fair fields through which he was moving, with short quick steps, his coat-tails flapping behind him. Both the appearance and the character of Dr. Pinches provoked much conversation at Stratton.

As to his appearance, his features were regular, his face pale, like the face of a student ; his forehead was high and square, his lips thin and often pinched together, his eyes dark, and with a look in them not easily fathomed, a curious defensive stare. When he was alone in his library, reading letters that displeased him, the stare disappeared, a somewhat spiteful expression came in its place, and his lips parted in anger : but be fore he came out into the world again his face had always recovered its outdoor dress. He was of middle height, and strongly but rather clumsily made ; and he was dressed in a manner carefully clerical, making him look as much like a Roman priest as was consistent with his pro fession. Taken altogether his appearance was something more than handsome ; — it was pro foundly interesting ; and those who knew how to look, saw in him a strength and a weakness which made them feel wonder and pity, a sensitive spirit, and a nature well schooled, but not at rest.

His career at the University had been | brilliant ; and his successes there had made him a schoolmaster : in this position he did well, but not so well as ever to be thoroughly at ease, or habitually to feel wholly master of any situation in which he found himself. He started in life with an excellent memory, great acute ness, and a positive greediness for work ; he had also a faculty which was not exactly im agination, but might sometimes pass for it, — the faculty of awakening in his mind the feelings which he wished to be there. His intelligence was clear and subtle, his will and senses both strong ; he had a fastidious temper, easily pro voked and unforgiving ; great ambition, and a natural respect for high rank ; but all these char acteristics were often paralysed by two others, — timidity and self-consciousness, — which made him both liable to physical fear and unable to assert himself against either arrogance or ridi cule.

Upon this nature there had supervened a strong religious feeling, which modified it to an extraordinary degree. He became a clergy man, and God and the Church became to him the chief realities of life. He realised the lessons of the Incarnation with wonderful clear ness ; and, besides this, the mystical and gorgeous history of the Church, with its cathedrals and monasteries, its magnificence and its con descension, its pride and its penances, com pletely fascinated him. He loved it for its pageantry, its self-sufficiency, and the help it offered to the weakness and the misery of man kind ; he exulted as he found that sometimes when he spoke in its name all ranks seemed to him to be equal, and that he could feel himself the peer of the monks who with bare feet and dressed in rough gowns were wont to rebuke kings and kindle the enthusiasm of armies in the name of God.

Thus the pedigree of the hierarchy received from him the same reverence which he had once kept for the aristocracy of birth : he considered it to be his duty to reverence his cloth ; a duty which he fulfilled with no difficulty, at least as far as the Roman priesthood was concerned. With regard to the lay world, since he was a priest his position towards all mankind was altered. He stood above laymen, to help them to come to God, and he forced himself to have no thoughts inconsistent with his high calling ; his ambition satisfied itself, at least to the degree of one half, in saintliness, andthe other ; half was ashamed to appear : he learned to control his temper, and allowed it to have its way only against those whom he regarded as enemies to God ; and he forced himself to reverence all men, even the most vulgar, as Christians simply, or as those who might be come Christians.

Closely associated in his heart with the welfare of the Christian religion was the wel fare of the school over which he presided. Not only was his own importance staked in a great degree upon its success, but also — a far greater consideration — he believed that the school was a trust placed in his hands by God, that in it boys might be trained for His service. Thus he was ready to sacrifice himself unre servedly for it ; to promote its welfare he gave almost all his powers, and ran counter to his deepest prejudices, forcing himself to treat with equal distinction the rich and the poor, the refined and the common, among his pupils. Such a man was Dr. Pinches. He often dwelt in his thoughts upon the weaker parts of his nature, and even with tears besought God to remove them : thus they continually became smaller, and over the whole of his life was spread a measure of that life and colour which the love of God always brings.

But for all his brilliant scholarship and all his goodness, he did not escape severe criticism from his as sistant masters : first, no doubt, simply because assistant masters always criticise keenly every thing within their cognisance, and do not readily make allowances for weakness, excepting in their pupils ; and secondly also because a man, when he tries to keep a large part of his nature out of sight, is in constant danger of producing in those with whom he works the idea that he is insincere. Thus it was that strangers who listened to the talk of many of the assistant masters at Stratton would have concluded from it that Dr. Pinches was half a knave and half a fool, and was much disliked by his associates ; they would have wondered at the folly of the governors who chose him for his post, and of parents who entrusted their children to his direction.

But this conclusion would not have been just : Dr. Pinches was a good head master, as far as such a thing can be; parents had good reason to trust him ; and the assistant masters in general really liked him. It was because he was so good a headmaster THE THING THAT HATH BEKN ; that he felt very uncomfortable now. He brooded, as he walked, on the condition of the sixth form boys, thinking first that they had not sufficient religious feeling, then that their ignorance of mathematics was discreditable, then doubting whether they had a proper respect for any of the higher sides of school life ; whether they were not thinking too much of their games and too little of the Trachiniæ and the fifth book of Thucydides. As he walked along, he first blamed himself; and then, like David, he turned to his prayers, and having confessed his sins, sought counsel of God, and hoped and expected to receive it.

Before he reached home he met one of the masters, Mr. Binning, who was the chief classical master in the junior school ; and he determined to lay before him one part of his difficulty. Dr. Pinches was in his cautious way a good judge of character ; and he was aware that Binnine's opinion was worth having, that he liked to o-ive it about everything, and that he criticised with impartial disfavour every plan which had not been submitted to him for approval. Mr. Binning had, as became a classical master, a poor opinion both of mathematics and mathematicians, and his remarks on this occa sion did not much comfort Dr. Pinches. When they met, Binning's face assumed a look of patronising inquiry as Dr. Pinches stopped, and said, in a tone studiously apprehensive : — " I am glad to have an opportunity of con sulting you, Mr. Binning.

I am anxious about the mathematical work of the school." Mr. Binning, with a haughty and a con temptuous look, pulled at his moustache, and replied : " I daresay you are ". Dr. Pinches secretly winced, but pro ceeded : — " The report of it was bad, and I should like to do something to strengthen Mr. Panting's hands ". Mr. Binning prided himself on his straight forwardness ; and he considered that this speech was not straightforward, since it did not indicate what he knew to be Dr. Pinches' real opinion of Mr. Panting. He said : — "You will never do any good until you get the mathematical masters to do their work better ". Then tossing his head back, he con tinued, with an air of infinite pity : " Perhaps ; 12 their training in mathematics makes it hard for them to manage boys ". Dr. Pinches felt annoyed, and trying to assert himself, he said stiffly : "I have a great regard for Mr. Panting" — a statement, by the way, which probably was not exactly true.

Binning observed with pleasure that Dr. Pinches was vexed ; he felt that this method of talking was a good way of revenging himself on Dr. Pinches for his impudence in being headmaster : and he said, with an air of pity which now included Dr. Pinches : — " Oh yes ! Poor Panting ! I daresay ! But he needs to be shown, and to be kept to it. He cannot make reforms himself." Perhaps the most unpleasant part of this to Dr. Pinches was that he knew it to be true ; but the conversation was so little to his mind that he impotently brought rt to an end by moving on rather hastily, leaving Mr. Binning to go in some triumph to his friends, and seek for a way to bring into his conversation with them such selections from the dialogue as seemed suitable for them to hear. Dr. Pinches walked on with a moody brow, trying to forget Mr. Binning, and think what he ought to do.

Should he offer more prizes for mathematics ? This, he was aware, was to proceed upon a false policy. Should he in crease the number of hours given to the study of mathematics? He thought them too long already, since they were ill spent. Obtain other teachers ? But the school was stocked with teachers practically irremovable. He thought of this with annoyance, and of Binning's remarks : and so just did they appear to him, and yet so hopeless was he of introducing any skill in teaching into Mr. Panting and some of his chief colleagues, that through his mind passed the thought that they were not immortal. This caused him momen tarily a wild feeling of hope, and even suggested to him in this connection a railway accident. Then immediately he turned aside from the road, and leaning over a gate said a prayer of penitence, appending to it a supplication for Mr. Panting's perennial presence.

But this, though wholesome to himself, yet did nothing to remove his difficulties ; and that evening he carried them to the archdeacon of the diocese, a wise man, who held the living of the parish of Stratton. The old archdeacon listened with ; 14 a smile to the remarks of honest self-deprecia tion with which Dr. Pinches began, and then gravely to the description which he gave of the sixth form. When the mathematical difficulty was put before him, he sat more upright in his chair, and said : — '"There is a young man in the Board school at Wallerton, who is, I am told, the best teacher they have ever had there : mathematics is the subject which he teaches chiefly ; but his know ledge of many others is continually growing, and he is, they say, a most interesting and able young man. I have seen him once ; he is very ugly certainly, but I don't suppose that matters much."

Dr. Pinches sat still in thought. If anyone else but the archdeacon had proposed to him to introduce a Board-school teacher into Stratton School, he would not have accepted the idea for a moment. But the archdeacon was a man of high birth and great social standing, and a governor of the school ; and Dr. Pinches felt secure against critics of many kinds in taking any course of which the archdeacon approved. While he was hesitating, the archdeacon added : — " They want to get him away from Wallerton, though of course this would not affect you, for a reason which I will tell you ". The archdeacon then gave to Dr. Pinches • much of the history which is contained in the following chapters.

Chapter II. The Mother

About twenty-five years before the difficulties occurred which were mentioned in the last chapter, there had come into the town of Wallerton a stranger, to take upon herself the duties of matron of the infirmary. She had been lawfully chosen, that was certain ; other wise she would not have been allowed to come ; and as a matter of fact she had been chosen with a great degree of care. But every one in the town wondered at the choice, not only because of her youth — she was only twenty-six years old — but chiefly because she was so ugly, ugly enough, people thought, even to retard the re covery of the sick who were committed to her care. She had a red complexion, her face was large and square, her mouth large and square also, her eyes round and staring, and for nose — she hardly had any nose at all.

These unpleasant personal characteristics were very insufficiently balanced by two others which were pleasant, — she had beautiful hair and a good voice ; but as for the latter, since the beauty of it consisted to a great degree in a singularly clear intona tion, the people of Wallerton presently ceased altogether to admire it. She took up her work with perfect equa nimity, apparently unaware of the remarks and feelings which she caused. As far as the in firmary was concerned, she did her duty well, and the maladies of its inmates were not aggra vated in the manner predicted. She gave her attention untiringly to every one who needed it, whether it was a sick man or a careless ser vant. She seemed to have no weaknesses either of body or mind, and treated every kind of fault just as she treated the dust that daily made its appearance in the wards, — she simply and without apparent effort or bad temper did what she could to remove it.

Under her care the institution flourished, and within its walls she was respected. But out side of them she was detested. Her manners seemed to the people of Wallerton at large not so much bad as outrageous ; and it must be owned that they had good reason for holding this opinion. ; When she first came, the kind-hearted towns people had asked her to their houses ; and she had come, and partaken of the pleasant meal of tea, with a supper added at half-past eight o'clock. The evening parties of this kind at which she had been present were remembered with a horrible feeling of annoyance by some, and with indignation more or less profound by nearly all. On one occasion when the children were introduced, clean and smartly clothed, Miss Sims, — that was the name of the matron, — after watching for some time the manner in which they received the attention profusely bestowed upon them by the guests, said in a clear voice, and without more emotion than if she had been talking of the weather, that she was afraid the children, though probably not originally worse than other children, had become entirely demoralised by the attention which they received, and the admiring laughter accorded to their foolish remarks.

The various emotions created by this speech, and others of the same kind that followed it, did not subside during the evening; indeed, it is not too much to say that they remained rankling for ever in the minds of the father and mother of the children ■9 who were two of the most respected inhabitants of the town. At another party there was an artist present, named Martin, who had just come into the town. He was young and handsome, and he had brought some drawings to show to the company, and some songs which he sang ; and he talked much, as he himself considered, of art, but in reality of himself. When this had gone on for much of the evening, to the satisfaction of the hostess, and of all but the other men of the party, the odious voice of Miss Sims was heard, propounding the question why musicians and in some degree also painters were generally so vain.

Receiving a few moments' attention, she discussed the point with a certain amount of practical ability, but in a manner highly personal to Mr. Martin. The ladies of the company were indignant, and her remarks evidently caused Mr. Martin great pain, though he received them with a silence which the rest deplored, and for which some of the company tried to make amends by making various cutting remarks upon Miss Sims, her methods of conversation, and her personal appearance. All these, however, she received with perfect good ; 20 temper, thus causing still more annoyance ; and those whom she had offended were not com forted when Mr. Martin, as she rose at last to go, and offered him her hand, was poor-spirited enough, instead of refusing it, and giving her back as good as she had o-iven, to take it, and actually say : " Thank you for your conversation this evening ".

The ladies had no patience with him, and from that time most of them cast him off as a poor creature ; and this weakness of his did not mend the position of Miss Sims, who after a few more exhibitions of her unladylike disposition was, as regarded good society, annihilated in Wallerton, — a doom which she received apparently with absolute imperturba bility. When she had been in the town for two years a circumstance happened which procured for her at first considerable popularity ; but this popu larity, by the want of tact with which she received it, she speedily destroyed. There was a fire near the infirmary, in a house of three stories. Miss Sims was watching it, in company with the rest of the population, when a rumour spread through the crowd that a baby had been left in the upper story of the house : while the firemen were asking each other whether it was possible to reach the room, Miss Sims, as soon as she heard the rumour, went at once into the house, and up to the top story.

When she had satisfied herself that there was no baby there, she returned, with scorched face and clothing. The baby was found in a house near, and Miss Sims went composedly home to dress the burns ; they were presently healed, but she was now even uglier than before. Those in the town who most admired her bold deed collected a sum of twenty pounds from the town, and invited Miss Sims to the Town Hall to receive it as a present from the hands of the county member. They had persuaded him, with extraordinary difficulty, to conduct the ceremony, and he had composed a speech telling how delighted he was to be asked. And, after all, the managers experienced the mortification of receiving from Miss Sims a refusal to their invitation, conveyed in a letter which they could not but consider as written in very bad taste.

Their difficulty with regard to the county member increased their anger ; he indeed accepted the situation with secret joy ; but when he found that it was impossible for the ceremony to take place, he expressed regret so ; 22 strongly that the managers felt very uncomfortable. Soon after this Miss Sims received a visit which surprised her greatly. It was from John Martin, the young man to whom she had been so rude at the party. He asked her to sit to him for a character in a picture which he intended to paint. Her amazement was great, and her refusal decided. " I could paint better if you would sit," he said nervously, moving the stopper in and out of a bottle which was on the table. " There are many who would sit to you," she said, feeling not like herself as she uttered what seemed a reproach.

" You think it would be laughable," he said sadly, while his face flushed. She sat quite still for some minutes, and then said, with a look of some surprise : "I believe you are right. I will sit, if you like." She sat, and for weeks John Martin came to her, and sketched and painted, and listened and talked to her. She was touched and pleased ; and he was pleased : he felt at rest when he was with her, because of her extraordinary strenoth, all evidently well disposed to help him. He was really fond of art, and capable of worshipping nothing lower : but in Wallerton, where every thing was personal, he was in danger of becom ing personal also ; and in Wallerton, when he spoke of art, no one was inclined to listen, excepting Miss Sims. She was pleased with his enthusiasm ; and though she did not under stand much of what he said, yet helped him by showing him the place and power of a principle of beauty which was new to him, — beauty not of form or colour, but of unselfishness.

When the picture was finished, — a represen tation of the hospital at Varna, with Miss Sims as nurse, — it was displayed at the hairdresser's in South Street, and was certainly much talked of, though not in a complimentary manner. As a matter of fact, it merited censure for many reasons, yet not exactly those reasons generally given by its most severe critics. While it was still in the shop window, providing the town with much of its conversation, an event occurred which had an important bearing on Miss Sims' future life. Every month the board of the infirmary held a meeting, a board composed partly of towns-people, but partly also of county-people. ; 24 The chairman was Mr. Naunton of Naunton, a man of importance from the extreme antiquity of his family. He had not freed himself from habits common a hundred years ago, and often drank too freely.

On one board day at this time he took his luncheon as usual at the County Club, and as usual drank a great quantity of wine ; he then gave himself up to his public duties, for he was a valuable public servant ; and walked, perfectly upright, to the infirmary to preside at the board meeting. He was completely satisfied with himself, and felt able to give good advice to any one. It is difficult therefore to imagine his indignation when he found himself receiving it, and receiv ing it in public, and from a person holding the subordinate post of matron of the infirmary. It happened thus. When Miss Sims came into the board-room and presented her report, there was some remark upon the fact that the wine account was small. Mr. Naunton said that he considered this a bad thing ; wine he held to be useful for the convalescent and others also ; and he appealed to Miss Sims for corro boration of his theory.

She said that wine no doubt was useful, but that it was easy to take too much. As she said this her eyes were fixed upon Mr. Naunton, and so were the eyes of many in the room. Being in a somewhat boozy condition, he thought it necessary to take some notice of the remark, and said with anger: "Do you mean to say that I ?" r " Here he stopped, partly from indignation and partly from policy. Miss Sims looked at him critically as she would have done at a common patient, and in a composed manner finished the sentence and answered the question. " Drink too much wine ? — Oh yes." Naturally this speech produced an extraordinary commotion ; the only person quite composed in the room was Miss Sims. On the board were one or two nonconformists, and they were pleased ; there were also one or two young members, who were amused.