steepholm

The meals in the Hall were preceded by Duty. That was a service of psalm-singing followed by prayers read by a Grecian. The Grecians entered, each one by himself, after all the boys were seated. All eyes were fixed on them as they passed from one end of the Hall to their dining-table at the other end. The boys noticed their style of spadge, how their girdle buckle hung, the colour of their kid-gloves, the whiteness of their bands, how their handkerchief showed from the pocket, and so forth. One Grecian would have a monocle held by the eye, another the same article dangling by a string. I looked with admiration upon a certain Grecian who refrained from following the foolish fashion of his fellows by a studious effort to avoid any appearance of spadging. Now it must not be supposed from the above description that the Grecians were merely young swells. No, they were the most advanced scholars Christ's Hospital possessed. They remained longer in the School than the rest, and had a good classical and mathematical knowledge.

My friend Jeffery for his amusement composed a bogus parliamentary speech about the Corn Laws, and placed it, before the time the Grecians entered, in their path. One of them, supposing that another Grecian had dropped it, picked it up. This was exactly what Jeffery intended, and he was gratified to see all the Grecians having a good laugh over it. It was full of spicy words, an unintelligible jargon, and they tried in vain to find who was the author of it.

An account of our dinner would not be very interesting. In a few words I shall say that on Saturday we always had soup, which was never eaten. It was called "mess". On Tuesday we had pork. This was preferred to the meat of other days. I praise the Christ's Hospital authorities much for providing that the bones that contained marrow should be cracked for the boys, and also that there were plenty of marrow-scoopers at hand for their use. The marrow was spread by us on bread and considered a great delicacy.

One day in the year we had pease pudding and pork. I think the meal was provided by a benefactor. On the occasion the scholars had a double allowance of food. But pease pudding is so nourishing that one could not eat much of it conveniently, and therefore half the amount went back to the kitchen. In summer time salad was provided, the dressing of which was called "jicker." ...

The most interesting affair in the Hall was Supper in Public. The following rhymes about it were known by the scholars. Who was the author? I do not know.

"Gentlemen and ladies, walk up the stairs,
See the hungry lions and the half-starved bears,
The stiff-necked pelican and the over-grown ox,
The squeaking hurdy-gurdy and the sharking money box."

The "lions" were the Grecians, the "bears" the rest of the School: the "pelican was the "Treasurer", the "ox" the Steward, the hurdy-gurdy, the Hall's magnificent organ, and "the sharking money box" the box asking money for the Grecians leaving for College.

On a Supper-in-public we ate, in addition to the ordinary meal, "cruggy nailers", that is Captain's biscuits, which were hard, but pleasant to the taste.

At one Supper-in-public I saw the Duke of Wellington, the Waterloo celebrity. As he passed us, he patted the cheeks of one of the lads of our Ward, No. X. Was not that lad honoured to be thus noticed by this great benefactor of the British nation? The Duke of Wellington is one of three worthies that I am glad to have seen. The other two I saw outside Christ's Hospital, Queen Victoria, also a benefactor of our beloved country, by her bright example of righteousness to her subjects, and Dr. Zamenhof, a very modest man, but a benefactor of the whole world by his marvellous invention of the International Language. [TRB became an Esperantist in 1906, one year after his son.]

There were two rough and cruel games which could only be enjoyed by the biggest boys, but everyone in No. 15 Ward was obliged to attend, and the boys' names were called out from the Board belonging to the Ward by one of the Monitors. These games were "Hunting the Stag" and "Storming the Castle". The "stag" was represented by some strong lad, say "the buck of the ward" who would, during the game, punch with his fists anyone who came near him. When the stag was at length overpowered and seized, he was carried by several big lads to the goal, some holding his arms and some his legs. The cruel part of the affair was that a little boy was placed under the back of the stag to support it, and this little boy who was necessarily bent down under the weight, was hurried along faster than his legs could conveniently carry him. He was in the dark too, for the stag was surrounded by a running crowd of lads, and he sometimes was exhausted and trampled upon. When the little boy thus became a failure, another little one was forced to take his place.

In the game "Storming the Castle" the lads of the Ward were divided into two opposing armies. They faced each other under an archway. The duty of one of the armies was to prevent the other from pressing its way through the archway. The cruelty in this game was that the big lads in the attacking party clambered over the heads of the little ones. The games of cricket and football were not, to my knowledge, ever played in the London School for there was not field or suitable place for them. The favourite game was Rounders. I did indeed once see a football kicked by a Grecian in the playground adjoining the Hall, but he only spadged after it, and called to some lad, "Here, fetch me that ball," while as he spadged, the skirts of his coat flopped about his legs. I never saw a Grecian run, or with his skirt tucked up into his girdle. Such a thing would have been "infra dig" in the presence of others. What Grecians did behind our backs I cannot say. I don't remember any other games of the London School, except "Puss in the Corner" played by little boys in that cloister which was denoted by a text upon it, "Honour all men, &c." (1 Peter II.17)

There was not much inclination for play in the London School. The scholars could neither skip so well, nor play at marbles so well as when they were at Hertford, for they had lost much of their former ability from want of practice. Skipping was felt to be girlish, and playing at marbles, childish. They wasted hours looking through the bars of the School at the people passing, and wishing themselves outside. There were a few absurd amusements which ought to be mentioned because they had the merit of lessening the dreariness of this prison life. One of them was to observe by the clock how long one could stand on a slanting ledge which lay at the bottom of the "Garden" wall. A lad got so expert that he stood reading a book for half an hour when, forgetting that his feet were on the slant, he paced forward and nearly fell. Another amusement requiring much time and perseverance was making horsehair chains ornamented with beads, and making cherry-stone chains, which latter were very trying to the patience, for after grinding each link, it had to be cut and there were many failures. With such recreations, these cloistered scholars were indeed much more like monks than boys.

In the Writing School Mr Griggs, Mr Sharp and Mr Mackay taught us Writing and Arithmetic. Mr Fitzjohn and Mr Sykes, Spelling, Reading and Dictation, and the Royal Genealogy; and in another room Mr Bowker, Geography and English History. ...

Either [Mr Sykes] or Mr Fitzjohn gave the boys an impossible task. I wish I could remember which master of the two it was. The boys were told to copy down the Royal Genealogical Tree from William the Conqueror to Queen Victoria, with its Houses of York and Lancaster and the rest, from a printed card on to a school slate. Of course if writing were sufficiently reduced in size, the thing could be managed, for the whole of the Lord's Prayer has been inscribed on the top of the point of a needle, and I have seen it through a microscope. But ordinarily there is a reasonable limit to capacity. When an omnibus is full, it refuses to take twenty more passengers. Captain Stephens says that the llama will carry a hundred pounds weight, but neither blows nor coaxing will induce it to exceed that amount. I cannot solve the mystery of the master's requirement, and therefore shall pass it by without further comment. ...

Mr Mackey and all the teachers of Writing were careful to maintain a high standard of excellent in penmanship. If a boy looked pleased with himself, expecting praise for a carefully-written second-rate performance, Mr Mackey said, "That would please your mother, but it will not do for me. "...

The next master was Mr Fitzjohn. He generally entered the School panting. He was a big man and of such a weight that his chair creaked under him... On his arrival at school in a gasping condition, he sank into his chair, and thoroughly wiped his face, ears and neck with a large red pocket handkerchief. One day after this cooling process was finished, he addressed the class in a tone of affection. With a mournful glance, he uttered a few tender words, scarcely audible, as if he thought they might be the last words he was about to speak on earth. "Dear boys, be very good and quiet today, for I am feeling ill. Don't give me any trouble: I am too weak to keep you in order. I ask of you a special favour this morning. Be so kind, dear boys, as not to make a noise. I can hardly speak." The last words were repeated in a just audible pianissimo. "I can hardly - speak."

We were sorry. These were kind expressions, and condescending also, and we felt that we must be very hushed and gentle. But one lad was a slight exception. He thought that he might, without harm, drop a pencil or say something. Then the unexpected happened. "You rascal," shouted the master in a tremendous voice probably louder than that of Stentor, whose words could be heard above the din and clang of battle. Mr Fitzjohn had recovered. "You rascal, come down here, and I'll thrash you soundly. Come down here, Sir: I'll teach you your duty. If you can't be persuaded by fair means, you shall by foul. I see that you intend to be master here." We were almost stunned with surprise and fear. Where was our pity now? It was transferred to the little chap he was so unmercifully dressing. ...

Downstairs was Mr Bowker. He had a classroom to himself, where he taught us Geography and English History. This gentleman had great literary knowledge and was a member, I believe, of learned societies.

Geography Mr Bowker did not teach well. He gave us maps to copy, and that was all. We took care to draw and paint our maps well, and to copy correctly a few principal names. One lad executed his work artistically; he spared no time and pains over the name of the country, and he even glazed his map with gum, so that it looked almost as if it had not been drawn by hand. The master could not help admiring the work, but remarked that it had not many names.

Some of us could not see to copy the small names in maps. Astigmatic sight was not then understood by oculists, and the only thing we could do was to invent names, and for our purpose, the Ward List of surnames of boys was most helpful. Once there was danger of being found out. "What is this?" said the master, "there is no such place," but something drew off his attention, and the matter ended. ...

I shall repeat here some of his instructions. "Boys, it isn't everyone who has had the privilege of travelling in foreign countries. Now you all know, because I have told you, that I have travelled a great deal. ... I have travelled about Switzerland, and have been on some of its high mountains, and have seen so many places that it would take me too much time to name them all; so I have the advantage of knowing the truth of what is reported by travellers. Some of those fellows tell the biggest lies a scoundrel can invent. There's that Arthur ____. You must not believe a word that fellow says. But I can tell you at the same time that I have heard and seen many wonderful things which you would scarcely believe, and which nevertheless you know to be true because they are told to you by me. There's a field of corn in Australia of which I will tell you the history. Once, a long time ago, a gentleman was showing me a mummy. The mummy held in his hand some of that ancient Egyptian corn which grew 2,000 years ago. Fancy! This corn had been held 2,000 years in in the hand of the mummy! Well, I begged a little of this corn, and the gentleman kindly gave me a few grains. These I sowed in my garden. They produced a crop, and that crop a larger one, and so on until at last there was this large field of corn in Australia. All that came from the few grains given me from the mummy's hand.

"... It is now time to serve out the history books. We have today to read about Titus Oates. Ah! he was a knave. He was worse than Marlborough. A most thorough knave that fellow was. Marlborough was avaricious, but he had some good qualities, and he was an able general. Marlborough too was very deceitful. But Titus Oates was not only avaricious and deceitful, he was bloodthirsty. Titus Oates was the greatest scoundrel that ever walked this earth. This infamous scamp had terrible sufferings, but he richly deserved his punishment." ...

These things were interesting and deserved attention and gratitude, and for a time they had it. But, perhaps, Mr Bowker was too long. ... So it happened that a lad, born perhaps like the majority with sluggish brains, was suddenly seen by the master to be woolgathering. Mr Bowker was at once irritated, and when one is irritated, the mind becomes like a distorting looking-glass that takes an ugly view of anything in front of it. In his excited state he called this boy the very name which he had been applying justly to Titus Oates. "See that Knave!" Mr Bowker cried. "I may talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, and the fellow doesn't listen to one word I'm saying. Come out here, you scoundrel, you scamp, you infamous rascal, and I'll give you a baker's round dozen."

One of the Deputy Grecians - Monitors - Machin, was the most cruel bully I ever knew. It was his pleasure to send the other Monitor, Douglas, to the end of the Ward to listen while he dropped a pin on to the Monitors' table, and say whether or not he heard the sound. If anyone in the Ward made the faintest rustle or even audibly breathed, Machin called him out, put the head of his victim on to the Monitors' table, and brought down his fist on to that unfortunate's back with a mighty thump. On one occasion the heavy thuds of the cruel blows and the pitiful groaning brought out the Nurse from her sitting-room to complain. Machin in a violent passion told her that he kept order in the Ward for her benefit, and that, instead of being thanked, he was blamed, finishing his reproaches by swearing at her. She fondly thought now that he was in her power, and replied that she would report him to the Steward for swearing at her. Machin appealed to Douglas, "Did I swear?" "No," said Douglas. "But I plainly heard you," protested the Nurse. Machin and Douglas both took their oath that she was mistaken.

Machin was regarded in the Ward as a "Russian bully"; some thought that he was indeed a Russian. Recently (1853- and 1854) England had been at war with Russia, and the boys were told about the cruel Russian treatment of the Poles. I was but 9 or 10 years of age, and in the absolute power of this human brute, nearly double my age. He used to inflict horrible suffering upon me for his savage amusement because I was "a toughy" - one who could bear pain without groaning. He used to make me jump as high as I could, and when I was well above the ground, box my ear, driving me in the air. He asked me once if I, being a Christian, loved him, according to the commandment, "Love your enemies." I said nothing but was gratified to find that the knowledge in the Ward of my Christianity extended to the Monitors. A Christian does indeed love a bad man as a possible future convert, but not as a hater of God and his people. The other monitor Douglas neither befriended me nor did me harm.

The Deputy Grecians, like the Grecian, had a "swob". Some lad, not of gentle birth, would be willing to be the Monitors' swob. He made their beds, blacked their boots, made coffee and toast for them, and afterwards coffee and toast for himself. Machin and Douglas's swob showed that he was a "snob" (blackguard) by gobbing (spitting) over some toast and coffee, and then giving it to a lad who knew nothing about this defilement. The Monitor Douglas for his own amusement acted better. There was nothing "poling" (defiling) in slate-pencil dust, ink, sugar, salt, mustard and pepper. He made a dose of these ingredients in the presence of a lad who agreed to take it into his mouth for the reward of some hot coffee and buttered toast to follow it. I think there was also the additional reward of sixpence. The dose flew a long distance out of the lad's mouth on to a beautifully clean freshly sanded floor of the Ward. The Monitor was satisfied and gave the promised rewards, and the good meal immediately took away the vile taste of the dose.

This Monitor used to get from one end of the Ward to the other by silently running from one bed to another without touching the ground. One night when he touched Green's bed, which was next to mine, Green made a loud cry like that of a hyena. Douglas, startled, took a tremendous leap; Green said it was "over three beds", but it could not have been so much as that. Douglas, looking amused, came to Green and asked him, "What made you make that unearthly noise?" "I was dreaming," replied Green. After Douglas had gone away, Green said to me, "I was not asleep, I made that row for a lark."

[The second half of my great-grandfather's account concerns his time at Christ's Hospital's school for older boys at Newgate, London, from 1855 on. As before, I'll be putting up excerpts that seem particularly striking, but this first section is Introductory.]

The Wards of Christ's Hospital, London, were 16 in number containing about 50 boys in each Ward. There was also a Sick Ward. I was placed in Ward XV, the Nurse of which was Mrs Stag, and after the Pigging (Removal to another Ward) in Ward X. Of these two Wards alone I can write, having had no experience of the rest except the Sick Ward. The rooms of Nurse Stag, and the bed and study of the Grecian* of the Ward may first of all be mentioned. The Grecian's study was small and his bed was outside it. The bed had a curtain round it to make it private. The Grecian had a swob (servant), some lad of the Ward, whose social extraction no doubt was plebeian. The swob made the Grecian's bed, blacked his boots, and when called, obeyed his orders. The Grecian had a lofty manner like that of a giraffe, and was a grand being. He took no notice of anyone in the Ward except his swob. It seemed very wonderful to the boys of No. XV that the Grecian in his study had actually condescended to have a pleasant little chat with this servant, and moreover, the swob boasted, "He put some lavender-water upon my handkerchief."

Nurse Stag was able to be more sociable. She told us that she had visited Rome, and that in one of the Churches there the head of John the Baptist was shown to her and to other visitors. The exhibitor was doubtless a wag, for, when she made the objection, "I have already seen the Baptist's head in another Church and he cannot have had two heads!", she received the reply, "O yes, one of the heads belonged to him when he was a young man, and the other when he was older!"

Her sociability also was shown by the following. There was a lad who had a gift for public speaking. He delivered a mock sermon on the words, "They are coming!" which he said he took for his text, meaning that the French were coming to invade England. The Nurse came down from her rooms and listened to the sermon throughout. At that time the mind of the Christ's Hospital boys was much upon the Napoleonic wars. It was the absurd idea of these boys that one British soldier could chase a hundred Frenchmen. Another lad was a good entertainer. He sang "The Cork leg" with perfect action,** and he admirably imitated Mr Keymer, the Grammar School Master of Christ's Hospital, Hertford.

It was one of the duties of the Nurse to be present with the lads when they washed. There was no objection to this, for they only washed the head and neck and feet, and she directed them to show the neck to her after it had been washed. "You hav'n't washed your neck," she said to one. "Yes, I have, Mum." "Go and wash it again, I could sow mustard and cress in it." He did not wash it again, but after a time showed it to her once more. Then she said, "It's beautiful now." The place in which the boys washed was a long room called "The Lavatory" containing a row of taps with a gutter underneath. The washing in the Lavatory was a pleasant affair. The boys, bared down to the waist, placed the neck and the head under the row of taps of running warm water, and they helped one another to dry the head, holding a towel tight and drawing it backwards and forwards over the head. The ground of the Lavatory was slimy, but that did not matter, for before drying a foot, they could hold it under a tap, and the slime was removed into the gutter.

Every boy had a face-flannel. It was not really wanted, for he could lather his hands and use them better. But one thing was important. If he took it from its numbered peg in the Ward cupboard, he had to be careful to take it back again. Otherwise he gave trouble to Mrs Stag , and committed what, in her theology, was a grievous sin. This Nurse, not knowing better, did a dangerous thing. She put a nail on to the end of a long stick reaching almost the length of the Ward to give a reminder to anyone at a distance who was not listening to her. It swayed up and came own with a force that she did not intend.

* This is one school term TRB did not seem to think it necessary to translate - and indeed, it's right there in the OED: B.2.b "A boy in the highest class at Christ's Hospital (the Blue-coat School)." But I'd love to know how it arose. Perhaps in the past Greek was taught only to the senior scholars?

** If you, dear reader, wish to emulate him in singing this steampunk version of "The Red Shoes", this is a good place to start.

THE SICK WARD

When a boy at Hertford was ill, or felt ill, he went to the Surgery of the Sick Ward to be examined by Dr Stone. If the doctor admitted him as an inmate, he was at once taken into the Sick Ward, and he had not even the responsibility of giving any notice to the Matron of his Ward which he had left. ... I was sometimes in the Sick Ward for a considerable time. What the ailments were which I suffered I do not know. Perhaps I never knew their names. And is it wonderful that a child should take no interest in such forbidding subjects as diseases? Besides, in this delightful place, pain was swallowed up by pleasure. The boys were very happy in the Sick Ward, and would have liked to live there always. There was delicious wholesome food, kind nurses, a warm comfortable room, a long table at which I read Dickens' "Pickwick Papers" and some good evangelical tracts. I liked the tracts, and thought that "Pickwick Papers" was a charmingly amusing book. The title page was missing, and I wondered who wrote it. When Dr Stone examined me after I had been for some days up and said that I was not strong enough to attend school yet and must remain in the Sick Ward for another week, the "woosent luxent" news filled me with such joy that I was afraid it would recover me too soon, and cause Dr Stone to change his mind. At this stage I had quinine every day at eleven o'clock, and I looked forward to the hour, for I was very fond of this tonic. Nowadays doctors are more shy of quinine than they used to be, having discovered that it may be bad for the heart. ...

Dr Stone once gave me a sudden sharp pain, but I had no doubt that he did so for my own good, and I was interested in his treatment. According to the instruction of my nurse, I lay on my back on the counterpane of my bed with my body bare and near the foot of the bed. I compared myself to a little balloon. Dr Stone, as he passed, gave the front of my body a sudden vigorous smack, and without any pause, continued to walk on to the door of the Ward, and went out.

The Sick Ward was a delicious relief to the scholars of Mr Keymer from their daily funk for him. But one day he made his appearance there. He came not for any pastoral purpose, but merely to persecute one of the patients. He said to him so that all the Ward could hear, "Yo'er shamming toe bay al. You've come here just beycause yer don't want too come to School. Vary wal. I shall raymember yow when yo come back again!"

SUNDAY

On Sunday the children of Christ's Hospital, attended by their nurses, were taken to Hertford Church. Some of my Ward, No.8, liked to take hold of the hand of Mrs Meredith in starting for the country walk leading to it. [I have done this same walk via Google Street view, from SG14 1PB to SG13 8AE. It is no longer in the country....] On the way we heard the fine pealing of the Church bells, but I am sorry to say that, being hungry and miserable, I did not enjoy their music. The beautiful scenery of the scotch mountains did not obtain appreciation from Dr Johnston [sic], and probably because, in his time hotels were few and far apart and he could not get sufficient nourishment to give him the spirit to enjoy it. ...

On the Evening of every Sunday Mr Keymer came into the Hall and read prayers and afterwards preached. The Girls of the Hertford Bluecoat's School also were present. The bell to announce service was rung for a considerable time although everyone was present except Mr Keymer. Between the prayers and sermons he left the Hall to change his surplice for a black gown and solemnly returned to the pulpit. The girls were from seven to eighteen years old, and sat in a row in such order that their heads formed a straight line verging to the ground. Those who were about seven were very interesting to me, and some were attractive, but those who were older were too big to please me. ... Smallness makes some atonement for the plainness of little girls, and causes ordinary defects of feature to be less forbidding. The age of the greater part of the girls was greater than that of any of the boys. I thought that some of the older girls were rather plain, one or two dubiously passable, and some even ugly. Perhaps the environment of a hard school-life was not favourable to the retention of good looks. It may have soured the disposition. ... However, Sunday evening was very pleasant to me on account of the presence of the little girls, one of them especially, and I rejoiced when they came into the Hall, and was sorry when they went out again.

Mr Keymer occasionally preached a funeral sermon. That was when a boy died. It was called "a jolly sermon" for it pleased the children to hear him speak kind words of the departed. I never heard the word "jolly" used at Christ's Hospital except on this occasion. "Jolly" was thought by the boys there to be the mild effeminate slang of school-girls, though strange to say, girls used the word much because they thought it was the slang of school-boys. I cannot recall anything of a funereal sermon of Mr Keymer, except the following words:-

"Hay was a varry good boy and always larnt has lassons wal, and af yo want toe go toe Havvn yo must bay like ham."

I can recollect one of the sermons of Mr Keymer. Although the girls were present, he was so rude as to speak of the flogging of boys with the birch rod. This I thought as indelicate as if he had spoken of the use of the birch by Miss P. and Miss L. for the punishment of the girls. The boys had great pity for the girls and believed that the greater part of them were almost angelical, and the rest of them far better than boys and too good to deserve this brutal treatment, though it was rumoured they frequently had it. At my early age I had never been acquainted with any girls except my sisters and they were apparently faultless. ...

There were three masters in the Grammar School, the Revd. Nathaniel Keymer, the Revd. Henry Hawkins and Mr Bowry, who took the lowest classes. Mr Bowry was a bulky and dangerous-looking man, and very bearish in his ways towards the poor little kiddies under him. He made unsparing and senseless use of the cane in order to make them learn and recollect the parts of speech in the Latin Grammar, which was to them, and perhaps to him, unintelligible jargon. ...

After a short time Mr Hawkins became my master. He was not coarse in manner and appearance and speech like the former master, and on the first morning after the holidays graciously condescended to say "Good morning" to his scholars. I chiefly recollect him as frequently flapping his arms and gown as if he were imitating a barn fowl when it lifts itself up on its legs and flaps vigorously. This process was to fan the room, and it became a constant habit. Mr Hawkins, by way of punishment, gave a great many titches, that is, canings on the seat of the trousers pulled tight over the form [bench]. Occasionally he gave a brushing (birching). Selecting one of the lads, he would cross-examine him upon some trifle in such a manner that the scholar would, through nervousness, unwittingly contradict himself and apparently tell a lie. Then the guilty one was strapped to a form, and brushed for several minutes, Mr Hawkins, throughout the performance, loudly bewailing his hard lot in having so painful a duty to perform.

I remained with Mr Hawkins some months, and was then removed to the Rev. Nathaniel Keymer. This master had a fine aquiline nose, long face and chin, a mouth curved downwards, expressing the reverse of a smile, and long hair waving concavely and gracefully below the neck [Anyone else see Alan Rickman at this point?]. He wore, at all times, a tall silk hat on the back of his head, his eyes were gravely turned as he spoke, and he jerked out his words with little nods. His study had a window through which he would see his two classes outside, and they could see his nose refracted in the panes and distorted. The Latin lesson was generally the same - "the parts of speech to the end of Audior". This took up a long time. Mr Keymer standing with one foot on the form before the boys, the other on the ground, moved round to every one to hear him in turn say his part. In one hand Mr Keymer held a cane, in the other the wrist of the lad whose turn it was to speak. The master was thus ready to deal at once with a mistake, and to chastise the delay of an instant. He twisted the poor child's wrist backwards and forwards, rapping meanwhile the back and front of the little one's hand so that the child in excruciating pain stood with difficulty on one leg and sometimes fell. ...

[I've left out a lot about Mr Keymer, because he apparently had a strange way of pronouncing things, and TRB insists on writing everything he said out phonetically, which is tedious to transcribe. Fwiw, it reads to me like a Black Country accent, though I've checked and Keymer was actually a Mancunian.]

On one side of Mr Keymer's garden was the Field of the C. H. children, a brick wall forming the division between the garden and the field. One the top of this wall Mr Keymer used to place an apple, and then remain concealed from view with a cane in his hand. Should one of the children in the Field happen to see the apple and try to get it, the master amused himself by defending it. I am sorry to say that some cruel boys had a spite against Mr Keymer's fowls, threw stones at them, and broke a leg of one of them.

Guy Fawkes day was a holiday, but of course everyone went to Church in the morning. The boys came to Mr Keymer's house to remind him of the horrible treason. He came out smiling and was quite prepared for the occasion. "Yo must all prass as close as yow can to the railing and have yo're hands ready" said he, "Because I want yer all to have a fair chance." Mr Keymer then beat their hands with prickly sticks which he had gathered out of his garden. Then he scrambled windfall apples, water and cinders. Some lads went away soaked with the water. The master was having a lark.

... I think that the boys of Hertford were more fond of play and more spirited, and indeed more like boys than the lads of London. The reason was partly that on arrival at London their spirit was knocked out of them by the bullying of the bigger boys, and partly that the boys of Hertford were more favoured in their games than those of London by the possession of a field. Thus the Hertford boys were able to play cricket, whereas in London the scholars had to content themselves with the less manly game of rounders.

On a very hot day, however, when much running about is more a toil than a pleasure, the quiet amusement of Yards was very popular for the children to play in the field. It suited their childish fancy for it was a game of pretence. A portion of the field was marked out with string for an imaginary palace. This was sub-divided into a royal apartment for a sultan and his court to lounge in, and other apartments, which were for slaves. In order to get a comfortable lounge for the royal apartment, a great deal of grass was collected. Slaves were sent all over the field to barter for grass. The conditions of barter were sung to one C, followed by a downward cadence B, A, G, the time, tones and words being as follows: -



and, as each slave instinctively waited to commence his song at a suitable point of time, the effect over the field was that of weird round which was evidently enjoyed. One or two slaves were also sent to the shop to buy refreshments for the Sultan and his court, biscuits, sweets, sherbet, &c. When all the slaves had returned with their grass and refreshments to the Sultan, they settled in their own apartments in the palace, and had pieces of biscuit thrown to them over the string which divided them from the Sultan and his friends, who were reclining on mounds of grass, eating and drinking. Whether or not any sherbet was handed over to the slaves I forget. The expenses were paid by the Sultan and his court.

Other games of these little ones were Blindman's buff, Hop-scotch, Knucklebones, Marbles, Oranges & Lemons, School, and Skipping. A few of the children were very cruel to animals. They amused themselves by beheading beetles, which they called "soldiers and sailors", and by "taming flies" - cutting their wings off and making the insects walk with pins stuck through them. ... They never hurt a spider for they would have thought it unlucky to do so. ...

One day in the year the Governors of Christ's Hospital came into the field and showered all sorts of eatables for which the children scrambled, lobsters, pork pies, oranges, cakes and what not; also a great many halfpence. I never approved of scrambling, and I did not enter into it then, for I regarded it as ill-mannered. I noticed that the roughest and rudest of the boys got almost everything. When all was over I searched the ground and found a halfpenny concealed in the grass. "How very kind of these rich men" thought I, "to spend such large sums of money as they must have spent, to buy all these good things for us, poor half-starving children! But what a pity it is that they have not the sense to perceive that the scramble is no treat at all to many of us, but only a disappointment! What shocking bad taste these rich Governors of Christ's Hospital have! They ought to know that Christ and his apostles, though poor men, were gentlemen, and have left us instructions in good manners. ..."

What struck me as remarkable was that these rich men took a strange pleasure in the selfish low scuffle they caused for the things they threw. I was not angry with the poor hungry lads who got fed, for they acted according to their natural instinct. Like fowls in a barn-yard, they snatched their prizes, pushed, and kicked all who were near them. I was very glad that they were fed. What I thought was, "What is the gain of a lobster or a large pork pie, if, in order to obtain it, gentility must be renounced, and one's self-respect lost?" ...

After morning school was over, there was an hour to spend before dinner, either in the playground or in the Ward, and then the Hall bell rang twice, and all the scholars and Nurses ascended the Hall-staircase for the midday meal. As we were ascending, I heard Mrs Graham of No. VII Ward and Mrs Meredith of No. VIII Ward talking and laughing about my hair. It was very long, and in time past at my home had been curled with curling-tongs, and in a day or two would have to be cut short. I myself had no objection to part with my curls, but I did feel grieved when, on Sunday Evening, the girls of the Bluecoats Girls' School close by, came into the Hall, and I saw that their heads had been cropped like those of the boys. ...

Mr Ludlow, during dinner, walked about the Hall, and if any Nurse or boy wished to speak to him, now was the opportunity. A lad, for example, complained to him that the meat was high. Mr Ludlow tasted it, spat it out of his mouth, and said it was very good.

After dinner at a separate table, beer was given to delicate boys, of whom I was one. In old-fashioned times beer was believed to convey strength just as nowadays meat is supposed to give it. And indeed for those poor little wretches, whatever may be said now, a stimulant seemed to be necessary. "Give strong drink, says King Lemuel, unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto the bitter in soul." A small mug of sweet ale was a slight comfort to such a one, and did him no harm. When the beer was flat and sharp, it was a disappointment. Flesh is also a stimulant. There was always in each Ward one boy who got nothing of it, and that was the unfortunate to whom was laid the bladebone. No one ate the bladebone, or what was on it, for it was considered unclean. If one ate it in ignorance, he was "poled" (polluted) and no boy spoke to him. ...

The belief was held [among the boys] that everyone dies from slow poisoning. For all food, said they, contains poison except carrots, and gradually produces death. And it would be of no avail to eat nothing but carrots, even if one could do so, for then death by starvation would follow, carrots not having by themselves sufficient nourishment to preserve life.

Dinner was followed by after-meal duty [prayers], and then we were dismissed or occasionally detained to witness a brushing in public. That is a flogging with a birch-rod on the bare back of some sinful boy. The culprit was hung on the back of a beadle, and another beadle furrowed the flesh with the rod. ... During a brushing if the one who was chastised groaned from excessive pain, the boys who witnessed involuntarily cried "shame". The beadle in pity gave less vigorous strokes. Then Mr Ludlow called to him, "Do your duty, Sir," and if the beadle became loath, took the rod out of the beadle's hand and administered the strokes himself. ...




Note - the birch is quite different from a cane, and designed to break the skin.

It was the duty of Mr Crossman [a friendly beadle] nightly to walk about Christ's Hospital with a bell and a dog and at each half hour to proclaim loudly the time of night. The boys imagined that he guarded the Hospital from highwaymen, and sometimes it was rumoured that he had shot one of them. The boys greatly admired this faithful beadle's valour and bore no ill will against him because he was employed by Mr Ludlow to do the birching. He was a kind-hearted man and evidently did not like that business, for it was horribly cruel and especially for young children.

There was a shop in one of the playgrounds which was kept by Mr Allen, a very stout man. He was a beadle, but not liked as Mr Crossman was, for he took no interest in the children, was irritable and devoid of humour. The scholars were obliged to buy from his shop, for there was no other. Nothing was allowed to be bought outside the school, and housy coin alone was permitted, the sixpence of which was copper and in shape a hexagon. ... Unfortunately Mr Ludlow also had no sense of humour. A child, sent by his companions to the shop for some "pigeon's milk" was reported to the Steward, and mercilessly punished. Another lad requested Mrs Allen to sell him a pennyworth of what she hadn't got: whereupon Mr Allen rose in great anger to seize him. The little boy got fairly away, but the fat man fell forward over the door-step, and was laid up for some time. The children of Christ's Hospital did not pity him and regarded his accident as a punishment for his stupidity. ...

The new clothes were very difficult for a new boy of the age of seven to button and unbutton. New leaden buttons were awkwardly tight in their stiff holes for weak little fingers to undo. If a child of that age agreed to pay twopence to an older lad to button and unbutton his clothing for him during dressing in the morning, undressing in the evening, and at any other time necessary, the nurse allowed this arrangement for the newcomer's first week. I myself was ashamed to be, like a babe, unable to dress and undress, and therefore managed somehow without help, but with great difficulty. ...

In her best mood Mrs Meredith was a well meaning woman. She performed cheerfully the ordinary work of a nurse, looking after a whole Ward of children, which was necessarily a heavy business. She seemed to enjoy tubbing the smaller boys, using soft, yellow, almost liquid soap, the same which the charwoman used for cleaning the Ward floor. In a quick business-like way she washed the heads and backs of the bigger boys which were held over wooden vats. She taught the Ward how to part their hair with a brush, and to save the trouble of using a comb, so that the latter soon became of no use. ... When good humoured she told us of a conversation she once had with Princess Victoria, afterwards Queen. She mistook the Princess for a dress-maker but discovered the mistake after parting from her. ...

On another day she showed that, to a boy who offended her, she could be spiteful. She took the cake, which had been sent to him from home, out of the Ward cupboard, cut it up into about forty pieces, and distributed them in the Ward. "What a shame!" said we in an undertone one to another, but poor wretches, we were half-starving and in a few moments the whole large cake was devoured, not one of us having the grace to refuse. To another little wretch who committed a transgression, which he could not help, but which gave her trouble, [I call bed-wetting - ed.] she showed a violence and vindictiveness of a fury, without having the sense of justice which is attributed to that mythological character. I shall never forget the sound of the scuffling, banging and fierce words "I'll teach you" which I heard outside the garret where we slept; it was the harsh treatment of a child scarcely more than an infant. The words "I'll teach you" are probably as old as the time of Gideon, for it is said of him that he "taught the men of Succoth". I thought of the Nurse afterwards when I heard a man who was whacking a frog say to it, "I'll teach you to be a frog". ...

Another item of interest in Ward-life, which amused me on account of its absurdity, was that everyone, whatever his condition in health, was obliged to go once a month to the Sick Ward to drink a small cupful of jalap, strong enough for a man of fifty. I usually, if I could, kept the large dose in my mouth till I got into the playground, where I spat it out. The poor lads were always hungry. Some would beg for orange peel and even pick it up from the sandy Ward floor, make it clean, and devour it. ... Cold and hunger, caused by want of nourishing food, gave us various complaints. All the tips of my fingers festered, and were full of yellow pus, and a thumbnail came off; my eyelids stuck together in my sleep and when I opened my eyes several lashes came out. One day a young lady of about 18, whom I had never seen before, and have never seen since, took me outside the Hospital, bought me a paper-bagful of confectionery, and then brought me again to my Ward. She was some kind of cousin. I was disappointed, for the affair did not last more than about a quarter of an hour. I thought it over, and concluded that she had made a promise to call upon me, and had thus fulfilled it. ...