H.M.I.
CHAPTER I
THE BEGINNING
“The Man seems following still the funeral of the Boy.”
J. Keble.
My first acquaintance with the office of H.M. Inspector of Schools dates as far back as 1854. I was then twelve years old. At breakfast we were informed that the Reverend Henry Sandford was coming on a visit. “Who, and what is he?” I asked. “Firstly, he was the son of our neighbour, Archdeacon Sandford: secondly, he was ‘H.M.I.’: that is to say, one of Her Majesty’s Inspectors of Schools.”
“What do they do?”
“Oh, they travel about the country, and examine the school-children in the National Schools.”
“Travel about?” I said wistfully: “I should like to be an Inspector.”
It was pointed out to me, with that frankness which is necessary in dealing with the inquisitive boy, that if I wanted travelling I had better be an engine-driver. But I replied, with unconscious sarcasm, that there were certain qualifications needed for the post of engine-driver.
Thirty years later bitter experience wrested from me the frequent remark that I did not find my work hard or disagreeable when I was once in school: all that I complained of was the travelling.
And there came another curious reminder of the conversation of 1854. One day, in the ‘eighties, I was lunching with a Roman Catholic priest, and among my fellow-guests was a much-loved Canon, who apologized for having omitted his morning shave because he was suffering from neuralgia: “and,” he added, “I have often thought I should like to be a Capuchin Monk, so that I might be at liberty to grow a beard.”
Being myself a hairy man, I pointed out that Inspectors of Schools had the same privilege. But the Canon promptly retorted that he believed there were certain qualifications necessary for the office of inspector, and he had never heard that there were any required for being a Capuchin.
This would seem to point to a classification:
1. Engine-drivers.
2. Inspectors of Schools.
3. Capuchins.
From 1854 to 1871 I was not interested in Elementary Education, though after leaving Oxford I took some part in Classical teaching. The storms of Mr. Lowe’s Revised Code passed over my head: and the Elementary Education Bill of 1870 was fought in Parliament while I was sailing home from Australia. The School Board elections of November, 1870, caused some excitement in the large towns, but the Franco-German war was raging, and the siege of Paris was of more general interest. To the supporters of the Government the New Education Act appeared to be an admirable measure; the Opposition maintained the contrary opinion; but, as is usually the case, the great majority of the people adopted one or the other side without tedious enquiry into details. I think that was my case.
In the following year without any warning my destiny began to be shaped. About Easter there came a letter to my father from our old friend of 1854, H. Sandford, who was a cousin of Sir Francis Sandford, Secretary of the Education Department, and had become a Senior Inspector. He premised that certain officers were to be appointed to make enquiries under the new Education Act—men who had graduated with honours at Oxford or Cambridge—and that the nomination of these was in the hands of the District Inspectors. He went on to enquire whether my father had a son with the necessary qualifications.
Now at that time I was a briefless barrister of something less than two years’ standing, nearly one of which I had spent in the aforesaid visit to Australia; and the prospect of work with a living wage was alluring. I was assured by my briefless brethren that the solicitors would not miss me, and that they themselves were able and willing to fill the gap. The offer of the appointment was accepted for me, and at the end of April I found myself an “Inspector of Returns.” To my extreme delight I received notice that my work lay in North Wales: Anglesey, Carnarvonshire, Merioneth, and about a third of Denbighshire formed the district of my Chief, whom I was to assist. I was to begin in May; the pay was good; I was twenty-nine, and in robust health. With such a country what could a man wish for more? The nature of the work was obscure, but presumably explanations would follow, and credit might be given to the Government that the task would be neither dishonourable nor onerous.
On an appointed day we were to attend at the Education Department at 11 A.M. to meet Sir F. Sandford, and to receive further instructions. I went accordingly, starting, as I thought, in good time, so that I might not begin with a reputation for unpunctuality. But at Charing Cross I found that there were but three minutes left, and I nervously hailed a hansom to complete the journey. With admirable exactness I reached the office door at 10.59, and enquired for the Secretary.
“Not come down yet, sir,” said the porter: “he don’t generally get here till half-past.”
I felt that I had found a profession after my own heart. Judges sat at 10; Quarter Sessions’ Chairmen at 9; and nasty remarks were made, if counsel by the merest chance in the world happened to be a quarter of an hour late. The cases in which I held briefs (with a fee of £1 3s. 6d.) could not contemplate a delay of half an hour; they were not on that scale.
Eventually the great man arrived, and pleasantly greeted the roomful of novices. We got our instructions, and were promised further information. In the following week I began work at Carnarvon. There, and in other schools in the district, we spent a few days, partly to teach me the rudiments of school work, partly to arrange a plan of campaign for my special work. It was all new to me, and I could offer no suggestions.
But I thought of the poor briefless ones whom I had left behind me in London: Westminster or Guildhall from 10 to 4; Temple Chambers for an hour or so; smoking-room at the club at night, with some remarks on the Tichborne case, then superseding the Franco-German war as a topic of conversation; and I was more than content with my lot.