CHAPTER VII.

“While in the Isle of Wight, I visited a cave in the side of an immensely high cliff. This cave is called the Hermit’s Hole. The only road to it is along a narrow path leading from the top of the cliff. This path is steep and narrow, and the descent is somewhat dangerous, as a slip would inevitably precipitate a persondown the cliff, a height of about seven hundred feet, into the sea which roars below. Travellers in the Isle of Wight speak in strange terms of this cave. One says ‘the mere thought of such an adventure (that of visiting the cave) is enough to shake the strongest nerves;’ and he recommends no one to venture, as ‘the path is so narrow that it is impossible to turn round, consequently a person who should set out must go all the way.’ I believe I am naturally cowardly. I have, however, I hope educated myself to face danger as well as most men. I therefore feel a pleasure and an interest in voluntarily putting my courage to the test, and I am proud when I find I can do that which other people pronounce to be difficult. Arthur would not venture to the edge of the cliff; but, after taking off my coat, I proceeded down the path, followed by Frederic. At first the path is protected by a projecting rock, which forms a kind of breastwork on the sea side, but after a few yards there is no protection whatever. I found the path better than I had expected; but it is very steep and narrow, and, besides slanting in length towards the cave, has a side slant towards the sea. There were several loose stones upon it, which made the danger so much the greater; some of these upon the least touch fell into the sea. It was with some difficulty I overcame an involuntary feeling of the necessity of leaping after them. The cave has nothing in itself to repay the danger of reaching it: the whole pleasure, indeed, consists in the danger overcome. Notwithstanding the accounts given by travellers, I turned back two or three times to see for Frederic. He ventured the greater part of the way; but when he came to a place where the path turned round a projecting part of the cliff, his courage failed him, and he hurried back. I must confess, however, that he accomplished more than I could have done at his age. I think the path was about twenty yards in length.”CHAPTER VII.In the summer of 1822 “Public Education” was published. Every effort had been made to work up the school to a high degree of excellence. “I am perfectly aware,” Rowland Hill wrote, “that much must be done before our school is fully prepared to stand the minute, and, perhaps, in many cases, invidious inspection which will take place in consequence of our inviting attention. I am also convinced of the necessity of making very vigorous improvements in my own mind. I hope I have already done much, and I am determined to accomplish more.” The Exhibition, or Speech-day, of June, 1822, had been a great success. “It was,” old Mr. Hill wrote to his eldest son, “a night of triumphant excellence.” Under the date of August 4th, 1822, Rowland Hill records in his Journal:—“We have every reason at present to be pleased with the reception the book has met with. It has not yet received much attention from reviewers. An article has, it is true, appeared in the ‘Monthly Magazine,’ speaking of it in terms of the highest praise, and it has been noticed in terms of general commendation in several of the newspapers; but I allude chiefly to the private expression of the opinions of people of the highest literary rank The book appears to interest its readers in a very unusual manner. It seems to be spreading a kind of education mania in the world.... Jeremy Bentham is a man who will not be forgotten in the world; though neglected by a great part of his countrymen, he is held in the highest esteem by the enlightened and honest.... To him, as theauthor of a work on education, and as a man of the greatest influence, Matthew presented a copy of our book. A short time after he received an invitation to dine with Mr. Bentham. He was received in the most flattering manner. Mr. Bentham informed him that, when he first saw the book, disgusted as he had often been by the vague generalities of treatises on education, he threw it aside without looking into it. Shortly after, however, he opened the book, with very slight hopes of discovering anything worth reading. His attention was very soon fixed; he gave it to his reader, a young man of seventeen, who, to use Mr. Bentham’s own phrase, went ‘chuckling all the way through it.’ Mr. Bentham was so delighted with the work that he kept it on a little shelf constantly within reach, and opened it many times during dinner.”Bentham sent a friend to inspect the school. “He certainly did not neglect his duty, for he would take nothing on credit. Such inspections as these, however, far from displeasing us, are exactly what we want.”So favourable was the inspector’s report, that Bentham placed two Greeks at Hazelwood at his own expense. He circulated the Magazine that the boys published among his friends, and even sent a contribution to its pages in a letter franked by Joseph Hume:—“Queen’s Square Place, Westminster,“April 11th, 1823.“Proposed for the ‘Hazelwood Magazine,’ with Mr. Bentham’s love to the good boys thereof, that they may consider which of the two modes of discipline is preferable.“Extract from theMorning Chronicle,April 11th, 1823.“‘An active Schoolmaster.—According to the ‘German Pedagogic Magazine,’ vol. 3, p. 407, died lately in Spain, a schoolmaster who for fifty-one years had superintended a large institution with old-fashioned severity. From an average inferred by means of recorded observations, one of the ushers had calculated that in the course of his exertions he had given 911,500 canings, 124,000 floggings, 209,000 custodes, 136,000 tips with the ruler, and 22,700 tasks to get by heart. It was further calculated that he made 700 boys standon peas, 600 kneel on a sharp edge of wood, 5,000 wear the fool’s cap, and 1,700 hold the rod. How vast the quantity of human misery inflicted by a single perverse educator.’—Whitehaven Gazette.”Bentham wrote to Dr. Parr “in high terms of the system, saying that it had caused him to throw aside all he had done himself.” He kept up his interest in the school, and some years later, in company with Mrs. Grote, at whose house he was staying, visited Rowland Hill at Bruce Castle. “Mr. Bentham,” he wrote on September 15th, 1827, “paid us a visit on Wednesday, and went away highly delighted. I never saw him in such spirits before. It is the first time he has left his home since his return from Paris (in 1825).” The fame of Hazelwood rapidly spread. The Greek Committee placed two young Greeks in the school:—“His Excellency the Tripolitan Ambassador has informed us that he has sent to Tripoli for six young Africans, and the Algerine Ambassador, not to be outdone by his piratical brother, has sent for a dozen from Algiers. The Persian Ambassador also thinks it would be much to the advantage of the monarchy he represents to put a few persons under our guidance. If these worthies should come, we must look out for a Mosque.”“We will rejoice over them,” wrote old Mr. Hill to his son, “when winds and seas have wafted them to port. Think not this proceeds from incredulity. So much good fortune as to be the means of sending civilization, and of darting one ray of liberty upon the wilds of Africa, seems too much to hope for.”Wilberforce, the venerable champion of negro emancipation, and Grote, the future historian of Greece, went to Birmingham to inspect the school. Grote heard the boys construe Homer. Even at that time enough was known of his studies in Greek tomake the young master who was taking the class feel not a little nervous. Two of Mrs. Grote’s nephews were removed from Eton and placed at Hazelwood. Five years later Grote, writing to Rowland Hill to introduce a friend, says, “I have taken the liberty of mentioning to him the high opinion which I entertain of the Hazelwood system.” The elder of the two nephews on leaving Cambridge went over to Stockholm as a kind of apostle of the new learning. “Public Education” had been translated into Swedish by Count Frölich, and a company was formed in Sweden to found a “Hillian School.” Professor Säve, of the University of Upsala, stayed a month at Hazelwood, carefully studying the system. But even a Professor could not master such a system in a month, and aid was called for from England. The young Cambridge man offered himself as a volunteer in the great cause. He went over to Stockholm, and for many a year helped to keep the faith pure and undefiled in theHillska Skola.Lord John Russell sent Dr. Maltby to inspect the school, and Dr. Maltby some years later on, when Bishop of Durham, gave out the prizes. “The number of visitors here,” wrote Mr. M. D. Hill when on a visit to his father’s house, “is immense. It is quite a nuisance. They sometimes have three or four parties at a time, and not a day passes without some.” The Marquis of Lansdowne, the Earl of Clarendon, Lord Auckland, Lord Kinnaird, Sir George Napier, Sir George Pollock, Brougham, De Quincey, Roscoe, Malthus, Joseph Hume, Nassau Senior, Robert Owen, W. J. Fox, Basil Hall, Babbage, and Lardner were all interested in Hazelwood, and not a few of them sent pupils there. Some of them even wished to reform the constitution. “We have had, onthe whole,” wrote old Mr. Hill to his son, “a pleasant interview with Mr. Hume and Dr. Gilchrist. They wish to set us right in two important particulars. First—That we should compel all to remain when the Committee comes to be chosen. Second—That the votes be all secret on that and all other occasions. We are quite obstinate on both questions, and, in conformity with usage, persist in old ways. You will be most highly amused with the honourable gentleman’s penetrative inspection, when it shall become safe to tell all. He is, however, a right good fellow. The Doctor set out with a grammatical examination, but presently delapsed into an etymological disquisition and lecture, exquisitely amusing and, as I maintain, highly instructive.” In January, 1825, “Public Education” was criticised in the “Edinburgh Review,” and criticised in the most friendly spirit. The “London Magazine” followed a year later with a long, and a still more friendly, article by De Quincey. M. Jullien, the editor of the “Revue Encyclopédique,” himself inspected the school, and then published in his Review an article on the book. The ex-President of the United States, Thomas Jefferson, who was at that time organising the University of Virginia, sent for the work. Mr. Bowring wrote to say that he had himself sent out a copy to the President of Haiti. Many pupils were sent to Hazelwood from abroad, chiefly from the newly-founded Republics of South America. The school almost at one bound sprang into fame. “It was a celebrity,” Rowland Hill wrote in his old age “which I now think was excessive, and which was followed in some instances by disappointment.” Yet at the time it might well have seemed to the young man that his early dreams were not the children of an idle brain. He might well have thoughtthat he had already done much towards rendering his name illustrious in after ages.[63]In his letters, however, I find few signs of triumph. In his Journal, unfortunately, a break of many years begins about this time. He had begun to keep it for the sake of practice in composition, and his lesson was now learnt. “I can now employ my time to greater advantage, and I rather grudge the little attention which I still devote to my history.”His health was breaking down under his heavy labour. Writing to his eldest brother a fortnight after the beginning of the summer holidays of 1822, he says:—“You complain, and with justice, that I do not write to you. To tell the truth, since the holidays commenced I have done nothing at all. I can scarcely say how the time has passed; all I know is that it is gone. The exertions previous to the exhibition were succeeded by a languor of which I have not yet been able to rid myself. It was not my intention to have left home these holidays, for there is much that I wish to do, but every one tells me I am thin and pale.... Arthur and Frederic are much in the same predicament with myself.”He had much wanted, he said, to go to Scotland, with letters of introduction to the officer who was conducting the trigonometrical survey. Owen’s establishment at New Lanark had also “a strong magnetic influence.” A year later (1823) he again excuses his neglect to write to his brother. “Writing a letter always costs me a headache.” He had just enjoyed a six weeks’ tour through the north of England and Scotland:—“Through Westmoreland and Cumberland I of course walked, and never spent four days more pleasantly than in viewing the delightfulscenery those counties afford. At New Lanark I was received in the most hospitable manner by the Owens. I spent two days and a-half there very pleasantly and profitably. In the management of the children neither rewards nor punishments are employed. The consequences are that the children appear very happy, very healthy, many very intelligent, and many very inattentive and disorderly; but when I consider that the children in the schools are nearly all under ten years of age, and that what they are taught is effected without any pain whatever being intentionally inflicted, I cannot be sure that theirs is not the correct mode of proceeding.”During this tour he was free from pain nearly all the time:—“But the very morning after my return the pain returned, and has not yet left me, though it is not so bad as at first.... I am cruelly disappointed to find that so much time and money should have been expended to so little purpose, as it at present appears.”Three months later he describes his fear of a relapse into “the maddening state of mind” from which he had but lately escaped.In the spring of 1824 he writes:—“I cannot condense my efforts as I used to do. I am obliged to take more time for everything.”A few months later his brother Matthew writes to him:—“I am very glad to hear of your recovery. If I were you, I would let the exhibition go to the Devil rather than overwork myself.... Depend upon it, you will never be paid either in fame or profit for any exertion in that barren spot. Spare yourself for better times.”When the summer holidays began, he took a trip to Paris:—“I visited one of the floating baths on the Seine, when, forgetful of my weak state, I plunged at once into deep water. Immediatelythe attendants hurried forward to my rescue with long, slender poles, like boat-hooks, and were very angry, as though I had intended suicide. And, in fact, I found that I was quite too weak to swim.”It was in vain that his brother urged him to spare himself. Whatever he put his hand to, he did with all his might. A year later (September, 1825) he was once more dangerously ill. “Mr. Hodgson,”[64]his father wrote, “prohibits all hints even about business. He says that the serious aspect assumed by the carbuncle is clearly the effect of mental excitation, and that your brother’s is the first instance of such a turn in a person under forty that has come under his observation.... It is a sad thing to be paralysed at the instant of high water in our affairs. Disappointment is, however, no new thing to us, and patience may work a retrieval, as it has done in times past.”Two days later he again writes:—“Though it were vain to disguise the fears which intrude themselves on your mother’s mind and my own, still we have Mr. Hodgson’s assurance that all will go well, provided the dear boy’s mind can be kept from painful excitement.... Mr. Hodgson has told your mother that, as soon as Rowland recovers, he shall strongly advise him, as a medical friend, to abandon any plan that shall demand unusual energy. These, my dear boy, are damping suggestions. My fear is that they will be unavailing, and that a life so truly valuable will be lost in splendid but abortive efforts.”The severe operations which he had to undergo he bore with the utmost fortitude. During the worst of them he never uttered a sound, but merely said when it was over, “Come, that’s no trifle.” Bodily pain at all times of his life he endured with silent patience.It was fortunate that there was no sense of failure inhis plans to heighten his illness. He had none of that misery to encounter which, as he had written, would come upon him should Hazelwood not succeed. His success seemed complete. In 1819 the new school-house had opened with sixty-six pupils. Year after year for seven years the numbers steadily rose till, by 1826, there were 150. Rugby did not at that time number so many. When he was lying on his sick-bed his father wrote—“Applications (for admittance) are almost become a source of anxiety, unless they were made pleasant by a greater portion of health and strength to meet them.” I have been told by one who was then living in Birmingham that so great for a time was the eagerness to get boys into Hazelwood that, when the school was full, strangers often sought the advocacy of a common friend, in the hope of still securing a place for their son. The very thoroughness of the success was a great misfortune. The steady growth of the new school during its first few years was due to its real merits. The two youngest sons had joined their elder brothers in the management, and for some years there were four of them all working harmoniously together, and with the greatest energy. “Public Education” did not at first rapidly swell the numbers. But when Jeffrey in the “Edinburgh Review,” and De Quincey in the “London Magazine,” both blew a loud blast in its praise, then the tide of prosperity set in with far too sudden and too full a flood. The heads of the young schoolmasters were by no means turned by their success. They found themselves confronted with fresh difficulties. Rowland Hill had before this become painfully aware of his own shortcomings. But these were brought more than ever home to him by his very success, for it lifted him at once into ahigher class of society. Men of rank and men of learning sent their children to be educated at Hazelwood. The expectations that “Public Education” raised were undoubtedly too high. The young authors wrote with thorough honesty. But they were writing about their own inventions and their own schemes; and, like all other inventors and schemers, they had a parental fondness for the offspring of their own brains. The rapid increase in the number of pupils was, moreover, as it always must be, a great source of danger to the discipline. In any school it is always a very hazardous time when the proportion of new boys is large. But in such a school as Hazelwood, with its complicated system of self-government, the hazard must have been unusually great. Out of 117 boys, with whom the school opened in January, 1825, only sixty-three had been in it more than seven months. At the very time, therefore, when Rowland Hill might with good reason have looked to enjoy some rest from his prolonged toil, a fresh strain was thrown upon him. It is not wonderful that he sank under it for a time, almost broken, as it seemed, in health and spirits.In the midst of his hard work, a few months before the second of the two illnesses, he had been suddenly called upon to face a new difficulty. He had been bent on founding a great school, which should serve as a kind of model to the whole country. “I had refrained from writing to you,” he wrote to his eldest brother, when he was regaining his strength, “because I knew it to be important to my speedy recovery to keep down as much as possible all those associations connected with the little school, and with the great school, which so uniformly arise in my mind whenever I write to you, let the subject be what it may.”Even so early as the year 1820 he had recorded in his Journal:—“All our plans are necessarily calculated for great numbers, and I contend that, where the strength of the teachers is proportionate, a school cannot be too numerous. If we had 500 instead of 70 boys, I would make this place a Paradise. Till we have some such number, the effects of our system, great as they have already been, cannot be justly appreciated. I have some hopes that in time we may be able to explode the foolish ideas that private education and limited numbers are desirable.”A few years later he began to see that it was not in a suburb of Birmingham that even he could make a Paradise. He saw that to carry out his plans the day must come when he should move to the neighbourhood of London. There was still much, he felt, to be done before he should be ready to take this step. But from a clear sky there came a clap of thunder. He was suddenly filled with alarm lest his plans should be forestalled. He was startled to learn that Bentham had one day said to Matthew Hill, “I have been thinking whether, if a sucker were taken from your Hazelwood tree and planted near London, it would grow.” In February, 1825, Matthew wrote that Brougham had just told him that he, John Smith,[65]and James Mill had resolved to found a school at London on the Hazelwood plan immediately. “Brougham has some money in hand, and J. Smith has offered to find the rest at four per cent. Brougham says that Burdett, Hobhouse, and Mill are strongly in favour of Hazelwood.”[66]Rowland Hill was not a little alarmed at the news, and with some reason, too. “Will it not be well,” he wrote back to his brother, “to inform Brougham that we have it in contemplation to establish a metropolitan school ourselves? If he knows this already, I think his conduct is very strange.” The brothers were not long in coming to a decision. They resolved to act upon Bentham’s thought with all speed, and plant near London a sucker from the Hazelwood tree.BRUCE CASTLE, TOTTENHAM.As soon as Rowland had somewhat recovered his strength, he began to explore the country round London, in the quest after a suitable house. The search was a long one. “I have,” he wrote in March, 1826, “with the exception of a small district which I am just going to explore, and a part of Essex, examined every great road from London.” At length his efforts were crowned with success. In the old mansion which had for ages borne the name of Bruce Castle, standing in the beautiful fragment of what once had been a wide park, he found a home for his new school. He had always been keenly alive to the charms both of scenery and antiquity. Here he found the two happily combined. The park, indeed, was but small, yet so thick was the foliage of the stately trees, and so luxuriant the undergrowth of the shrubberies, that its boundaries failed to catch the eye. High overhead the rooks, from time immemorial, had had their homes in the lofty elms. The wood-pigeons built on the topmost branches of a noble cedar of Lebanon, and the cuckoo, with his two-fold shout, never forgot there the return of spring. The kingfisher has been seen perching on a branch that overhung the pool in which the water-hen has reared her young. Hard by the main building stood an ancient tower, where the owls, year after year, made their nest—a tower which was standing when Elizabeth visited the mansion, and when Henry VIII. met there his sister, QueenMargaret of Scotland. Ancient though it is, it does not go back to days when both the house and manor took their name from their owner, the father of King Robert Bruce. The foundations of earlier buildings have been found deep beneath the lawn. On two of the bricks of the house there can still be read the first letters of names which were carved, as the date tells, when a Stuart was King in England. Through a narrow gate in the western boundary of the park, the path leads, across a quiet lane, into the churchyard. Here, as tradition told, the wall had been broken down when the last of the Lords Coleraine died, who had once owned the manor, and through the gap the body had been carried to its resting-place. Close by this little gate rose a graceful Lombardy poplar to the height of 100 feet—a landmark to all the country round. Through the trees, when winter had stripped them of their leaves, was seen from the windows of the Castle an ancient church-tower of singular beauty: ivy had covered it to the coping-stone with the growth of full two hundred years. When the foliage of summer hid it from the view, nevertheless it made its presence known by a peal of bells famous for their sweetness. The sound of the summoning bell might well inspire lofty thoughts and high aims, for it had once hung in the Citadel of Quebec, and had rung out the alarm when Wolfe stormed the heights of Abraham. The bells still remain, but the ivy has yielded to the ruthless hand of an ignorant restorer. The tower is ivy-mantled no more; and the graceful work of two long centuries has been in a moment wantonly cast away.This beautiful home was doubly endeared to Rowland Hill, for here he brought his bride, and here he spent the first six years of his wedded life. In the same summer that he left Hazelwood he had marriedthe playmate of his childhood. His affection for her had grown with his growth, and had never for a moment wavered. He had long loved her with the deep but quiet love of a strong nature. He was no Orlando to character his thoughts on the barks of trees. Even to his Journal, though he kept it hidden from every eye but his own, he never entrusted his secret. Two years before he kept his golden wedding-day he noticed, it would seem, this silence so uncommon in a lover. “From motives of delicacy,” he noted down, “I avoided in my Journal all mention of my early attachment to C——.” If his early records were silent in her praise, yet, when he came to write the history of the great work of his life, he spoke out with no uncertain accents. “I cannot record my marriage,” he wrote, “without adding that my dear wife’s help in my subsequent toils, and not least in those best known to the public, was important, perhaps essential, to their success.” An old-fashioned friend of his family, who knew well how hard she had laboured in helping her husband in his great work, on hearing some one say that Mr. Rowland Hill was the Father of Penny Postage, quaintly remarked, “Then I know who was its Mother. It was his wife.”CHAPTER VIII.The family group at Hazelwood, of which Rowland Hill had for many years formed the central figure, began with his settlement at Bruce Castle to break up. It had from time to time been lessened by the marriage of a child; nevertheless, four sons and a daughter had been left, who lived year after year under their parents’ roof in harmony and with great singleness of heart. “In our course through life,” he said in a passage which I once more quote, “from the beginning to the present hour, each one of us has been always ready to help the others to the best of his power; and no one has failed to call for such assistance again and again.” How great was the aid that he afforded his brothers, they gratefully acknowledged. One of them, writing to him a few years after he had left Hazelwood, said:—“No one, I am sure, can forget for many hours together that the family owes much more to you than to any other member—that, in fact, the sacrifices you have made, and the energy and talent you have brought to bear on its advancement ought to obtain for you the constant acknowledgments and gratitude of all. Arthur and I frequently avow this in our private conversation. I think, too, you show beyond dispute that you have been more persevering than most of us in your pursuits, even though you were not allowed to choose your profession.”In the time of their tribulation and in the time oftheir wealth, the brothers were equally united. Many years they had passed in breathing—“The keen, the wholesome air of poverty;And drinking from the well of homely life.”Not a few years had they now enjoyed of prosperity. But prosperity had no power to snap that bond which had been knitted in adversity. “The whole family participated in my joy,” wrote Rowland, when, as a boy of thirteen, he won the drawing prize. Throughout life, every prize that he won—every prize that any of them won—was a matter of rejoicing to all. “The spirit of co-operation was recommended to us,” the brothers wrote, “by our parents—during their lives and on their death-beds.” An instance of this may be seen in the following letter, written to Rowland Hill by his father:—“September 17, 1827.“My dear Son,—This day thirty-five years ago I lost my beloved brother Matthew. Dating this letter first brought into my mind the recollection of the circumstance that this was the melancholy anniversary, which is marked in my mind more than any other day of the year. Nor have I a wish that such might not be the case. To see my children united, as they are, in strong fraternal affection is doubly delightful, as it so forcibly reminds me of that which subsisted between my brother and myself to the moment of his death, and which will remain with me till quenched by the corresponding event. The sorrows of such feelings you know to be preferable to the joys of anti-social gratifications.”On this spirit they all steadily acted. I have come across an old letter in which the eldest son wrote to ask Rowland for his help in a matter of great moment. It so happened that the request came at a time when he could be but ill spared from his school. He answered:—“As we cannot, from ignorance of many of the facts, judge how far my going is important to your interests, I will state to you the sacrifice on our part, and then leave the decision in your hands, begging of you to determine the question with reference to the total amount of advantage, and not caring whether the sacrifice is on our side or yours.”He states at length the difficulties under which he himself lies; and thus concludes:—“You know us too well to suspect us of unwillingness to assist in promoting your success in life. If the probable advantage to yourself, and through you to the other members of the family, will, in your opinion, outweigh the probable inconveniences which we may sustain, pray say so without the slightest reserve, and I will meet you at the time appointed.”When he was first made a partner in the school, he recorded in his Journal: “I do not know whether my father intends to give me a share of the profits of the business, and I shall say nothing about it myself till he can better afford it.” It would seem that for the next nine years he altogether forgot to say anything about it, for it was not till the time of his marriage that any division was made of the common stock. The father and mother and the four sons who had been concerned in the management of the school had hitherto lived like the early Christians: “Neither said any of them that aught of the things which he possessed was his own; but they had all things common.” “I suppose,” writes one of the survivors of this band of brothers, “when any one was about to incur a larger expense than usual, as for a long journey, he must have mentioned the matter to the others, and so obtained at least a tacit consent; but there was nothing formal in the matter, nor can I remember a single discussion on the subject; for each knowing the family necessities acted accordingly. Ofany separate fund possessed by any single member I have no recollection.” To hold property in common for many years would generally put family concord to a severe strain. To divide it might, perhaps, put it to one still more severe. Happily in the division that now took place the strain was not felt. The second son, Edwin, who up to this time had had no share in the school, was made arbitrator, and he apportioned the common property, which was of no inconsiderable amount, among his parents and his brothers. “I have,” he wrote, “considered the property as having been accumulated within the last twelve years, and I have supposed that the efforts of each brother were equally efficient at the same age. I suppose accumulation to begin with the age of twenty years. The value of the services of each I have assumed to increase with the age of each, and in the proportion of age.”The brothers now drew up Articles of Partnership. The two schools were to be managed as one business. The parents retired, but their place was filled up by the second son and his wife. The Twelfth Article of Partnership was as follows:—“From a consideration that it is far more important that each claimant should receive enough money to enable him to defray the reasonable expenses of his maintenance, clothing, &c., than that some should be accumulating property, whilst others might be running in debt, it was determined that should the profits in any one year ever fall so low as not to yield more than the estimated amount of the necessary expenses of each claimant for that year, the proportions recorded above shall no longer be observed, and the following sums (which are considered as equivalent to such necessary expenditure) shall be substituted in their stead.”The “necessary expenditure of each claimant” was calculated by the number of people whom he had tosupport. For each of the three unmarried brothers it was fixed at the same amount. The two married brothers were each to be allowed between two and three times as much as a bachelor. If in any year there were not profits enough made to supply even the “necessary expenditure,” each claimant, nevertheless, could draw upon the general fund for “the stated sum.” In more years than one it happened that “the total of profits arising from all sources did not equal the expenses incurred in the maintenance of the families.” The profits were then divided “according to the plan provided to meet such a case, namely, that each partner have a share proportioned to his estimated reasonable expenses.” The more children a partner had, the larger share he received. In this arrangement there was, it must be allowed, something not altogether in accordance with the principles laid down by Mr. Malthus.When, some years later, the school partnership was dissolved, a plan for mutual insurance was at once formed by Rowland Hill and the three other surviving partners under the name ofThe Family Fund:—“To afford to each a security, to a certain extent, against future suffering from poverty, and to secure to all such advantages of union as are perfectly consistent with the non-existence of a partnership, it is further agreed to form a fund, to be called the Family Fund, to be applied to the relief of any of the undersigned, or their wives, or their descendants, who, in the opinion of the Managers of the Fund, may require such relief.“The Managers of the Fund to consist of the survivors among the undersigned, or such other persons as the Managers, for the time being, may appoint in writing.“The Managers to have the uncontrolled disposal of the Fund, as regards both principal and interest.”Each brother was to begin by contributing to the fund a considerable sum of money, “and, further,one-half of the surplus of his annual clear earnings (exclusive of the proceeds of investments) over his reasonable expenses.” The surplus earnings were to be taken on a series of years. An estimate, varying in each case, was adopted of the reasonable expenses of each brother. While they considered it expedient, they said, to leave themselves and their successors unfettered in the management of the fund, they, nevertheless, thought that it might be useful to put on record some of their views. From these views I extract the following:—“That anyone possessing an interest in the Fund should be considered as entitled to relief, if in circumstances much depressed as compared with the others, though not in absolute poverty.“That so long, however, as he is able, without great embarrassment, to draw on his own capital, his claim to relief should not be admitted.“That in determining the amount of relief, regard should be had to the propriety or impropriety of the conduct which has led to its necessity.“That at occasional annual meetings,—say once in ten years,—it is desirable to consider whether it might not be expedient to close the Family Fund account, and divide the whole among the undersigned, or their wives and their descendants. It is the present opinion of the undersigned that such a step will probably be expedient, when all their children shall have attained adult age, with a view, perhaps, of a similar arrangement being entered into by such of their descendants as may desire it.“That in the ultimate division of the Fund, regard should be had first to the unmerited necessities of the respective families; secondly, to the amount of aid which shall have been previously afforded to each from the Fund; and, lastly, to the total amount contributed.”The Family Fund existed for many years. At last it had done its work, and it was brought to a close. Whereupon the four brothers issued the following address to “the junior members of the Hill family”:—“Many of you know that until lately there existed, under the name of the Family Fund, a joint property formed by contributions from several members of the family, and intended to serve as a security against pecuniary distress on the part either of the subscribers, or of those immediately dependent on them. As each of us who did so subscribe subsequently accumulated property sufficient for the limited security required, as the above arrangement was attended with trouble, and, in the unsatisfactory state of the laws respecting property, might, at some future time, have caused serious difficulties, we brought it to a close, and divided the property of which we had thus been joint owners.“As this dissolution is liable to misapprehension, we think it may be useful to you to be informed that it proceeds from no distrust of the principle on which the Family Fund was established; which, indeed, we still regard as perfectly sound in itself, and, under a better state of the law, equally applicable to any set of persons who, having confidence in each other, are yet, individually, of such limited means, as to stand exposed to risk of pecuniary difficulties.“The principle involved is simply that of insurance, founded on the undoubted fact that want is a greater evil than wealth, beyond a simple competence, is a benefit; and that, consequently, where the income is either terminable or uncertain, it is wise, after providing the necessaries of life, to employ at least a part of the remainder in purchasing security for the future.“We may add that in such a union, beyond the mere material benefit, there naturally arises a moral influence of considerable power; and of this we have experienced the advantage; our connection having been sufficiently close to give to each of us, in a great measure, the benefit of the experience, knowledge, and judgment, of all the others, and to secure to each that friendly advice of which every one, some time or other, stands in need.“We attribute such success as has attended our family, and such respect as it has obtained, very much to the spirit of co-operation which was recommended to us by our parents during their lives and on their death-beds; and which we, in turn, living and dying, would recommend to our successors as amongst the best means of enabling them to do good to themselves individually and collectively, and no less to their fellow-creatures at large.“Edwin Hill,“Rowland Hill,“Arthur Hill,“Frederic Hill.“Bruce Castle, Tottenham,July, 1856.”As they trusted each other for aid in case of need, so at all times did they look to each other for counsel. The affairs of all were known to each. At every important turn, each sought the judgment of all. “I have mentioned your advice to the Family Council,” wrote Rowland Hill, in the year 1825, to his eldest brother. “After some discussion, the following agreement was come to.” In describing a decision to which he came twelve years after this date, he writes: “As usual in cases of great difficulty, I consulted my father and my brothers.” Eleven years later he entered in his Journal: “E. H., A. H., F. H., and I, met to consult on the steps to be taken in consequence of the Postmaster-General’s communication, and decided what should be done. These family consultations are a great aid to me.” When he was bringing the great work of his life to a close, he did not, he writes, send in his resignation, as Secretary to the Post-office, till he had first consulted his brothers. The following letter, which he wrote to his eldest brother, shows, not only how strongly he felt the advantages of this family union, but also how ready he always was to own, and own to the full, how much he himself had owed to it:—“Hampstead, 4th December, 1867.“My dear Matthew,—Thank you very much for your kind and affectionate letter. Fortunately, the members of our family have always been ready to assist one another—consequently, each has worked with the combined force of all. This was markedly the case as regards Penny Postage, as I have endeavoured to show in the history. But for your great help and that of our brothers, I should have accomplished but little.“No one, I am sure, has a better right to draw consolation from past services than yourself. Not only have you individually and directly effected a vast amount of good, but you have been the pioneer for us all.“Very affectionately yours,“Rowland Hill.”[A fac-simile of this letter is given over-leaf.]In the earlier meetings of the Family Council, rules were sometimes laid down for their own guidance. Some of the brothers took too little heed to what they said before outsiders; and, when politics or religion was the subject of talk, forgot that they were schoolmasters, and spoke out with the freedom of men. The Council accordingly passed the following resolution: “It is our opinion that when anyone, by announcing an opinion, or by a mode of expression, has startled his hearers, that circumstance is a strong presumptive proof that he has done an injury to himself.” This is worthy of La Rochefoucauld himself, and yet it was but little acted on, it would seem, by some of the members. Rowland Hill, writing to one of his brothers about the time when this resolution was passed, says: “In making your own conduct conform to that which we all agree to be right, you exercise a degree of self-control which no other member of the family has ever evinced.” It was to this rule, I have no doubt, that he was referring. At another meeting of the Council, I find it recorded: “It is desirable to settle how far perfection of speculative opinion should be sacrificed to practical effect.” The question, I fear, remains unsettled to the present day.

“While in the Isle of Wight, I visited a cave in the side of an immensely high cliff. This cave is called the Hermit’s Hole. The only road to it is along a narrow path leading from the top of the cliff. This path is steep and narrow, and the descent is somewhat dangerous, as a slip would inevitably precipitate a persondown the cliff, a height of about seven hundred feet, into the sea which roars below. Travellers in the Isle of Wight speak in strange terms of this cave. One says ‘the mere thought of such an adventure (that of visiting the cave) is enough to shake the strongest nerves;’ and he recommends no one to venture, as ‘the path is so narrow that it is impossible to turn round, consequently a person who should set out must go all the way.’ I believe I am naturally cowardly. I have, however, I hope educated myself to face danger as well as most men. I therefore feel a pleasure and an interest in voluntarily putting my courage to the test, and I am proud when I find I can do that which other people pronounce to be difficult. Arthur would not venture to the edge of the cliff; but, after taking off my coat, I proceeded down the path, followed by Frederic. At first the path is protected by a projecting rock, which forms a kind of breastwork on the sea side, but after a few yards there is no protection whatever. I found the path better than I had expected; but it is very steep and narrow, and, besides slanting in length towards the cave, has a side slant towards the sea. There were several loose stones upon it, which made the danger so much the greater; some of these upon the least touch fell into the sea. It was with some difficulty I overcame an involuntary feeling of the necessity of leaping after them. The cave has nothing in itself to repay the danger of reaching it: the whole pleasure, indeed, consists in the danger overcome. Notwithstanding the accounts given by travellers, I turned back two or three times to see for Frederic. He ventured the greater part of the way; but when he came to a place where the path turned round a projecting part of the cliff, his courage failed him, and he hurried back. I must confess, however, that he accomplished more than I could have done at his age. I think the path was about twenty yards in length.”

“While in the Isle of Wight, I visited a cave in the side of an immensely high cliff. This cave is called the Hermit’s Hole. The only road to it is along a narrow path leading from the top of the cliff. This path is steep and narrow, and the descent is somewhat dangerous, as a slip would inevitably precipitate a persondown the cliff, a height of about seven hundred feet, into the sea which roars below. Travellers in the Isle of Wight speak in strange terms of this cave. One says ‘the mere thought of such an adventure (that of visiting the cave) is enough to shake the strongest nerves;’ and he recommends no one to venture, as ‘the path is so narrow that it is impossible to turn round, consequently a person who should set out must go all the way.’ I believe I am naturally cowardly. I have, however, I hope educated myself to face danger as well as most men. I therefore feel a pleasure and an interest in voluntarily putting my courage to the test, and I am proud when I find I can do that which other people pronounce to be difficult. Arthur would not venture to the edge of the cliff; but, after taking off my coat, I proceeded down the path, followed by Frederic. At first the path is protected by a projecting rock, which forms a kind of breastwork on the sea side, but after a few yards there is no protection whatever. I found the path better than I had expected; but it is very steep and narrow, and, besides slanting in length towards the cave, has a side slant towards the sea. There were several loose stones upon it, which made the danger so much the greater; some of these upon the least touch fell into the sea. It was with some difficulty I overcame an involuntary feeling of the necessity of leaping after them. The cave has nothing in itself to repay the danger of reaching it: the whole pleasure, indeed, consists in the danger overcome. Notwithstanding the accounts given by travellers, I turned back two or three times to see for Frederic. He ventured the greater part of the way; but when he came to a place where the path turned round a projecting part of the cliff, his courage failed him, and he hurried back. I must confess, however, that he accomplished more than I could have done at his age. I think the path was about twenty yards in length.”

In the summer of 1822 “Public Education” was published. Every effort had been made to work up the school to a high degree of excellence. “I am perfectly aware,” Rowland Hill wrote, “that much must be done before our school is fully prepared to stand the minute, and, perhaps, in many cases, invidious inspection which will take place in consequence of our inviting attention. I am also convinced of the necessity of making very vigorous improvements in my own mind. I hope I have already done much, and I am determined to accomplish more.” The Exhibition, or Speech-day, of June, 1822, had been a great success. “It was,” old Mr. Hill wrote to his eldest son, “a night of triumphant excellence.” Under the date of August 4th, 1822, Rowland Hill records in his Journal:—

“We have every reason at present to be pleased with the reception the book has met with. It has not yet received much attention from reviewers. An article has, it is true, appeared in the ‘Monthly Magazine,’ speaking of it in terms of the highest praise, and it has been noticed in terms of general commendation in several of the newspapers; but I allude chiefly to the private expression of the opinions of people of the highest literary rank The book appears to interest its readers in a very unusual manner. It seems to be spreading a kind of education mania in the world.... Jeremy Bentham is a man who will not be forgotten in the world; though neglected by a great part of his countrymen, he is held in the highest esteem by the enlightened and honest.... To him, as theauthor of a work on education, and as a man of the greatest influence, Matthew presented a copy of our book. A short time after he received an invitation to dine with Mr. Bentham. He was received in the most flattering manner. Mr. Bentham informed him that, when he first saw the book, disgusted as he had often been by the vague generalities of treatises on education, he threw it aside without looking into it. Shortly after, however, he opened the book, with very slight hopes of discovering anything worth reading. His attention was very soon fixed; he gave it to his reader, a young man of seventeen, who, to use Mr. Bentham’s own phrase, went ‘chuckling all the way through it.’ Mr. Bentham was so delighted with the work that he kept it on a little shelf constantly within reach, and opened it many times during dinner.”

“We have every reason at present to be pleased with the reception the book has met with. It has not yet received much attention from reviewers. An article has, it is true, appeared in the ‘Monthly Magazine,’ speaking of it in terms of the highest praise, and it has been noticed in terms of general commendation in several of the newspapers; but I allude chiefly to the private expression of the opinions of people of the highest literary rank The book appears to interest its readers in a very unusual manner. It seems to be spreading a kind of education mania in the world.... Jeremy Bentham is a man who will not be forgotten in the world; though neglected by a great part of his countrymen, he is held in the highest esteem by the enlightened and honest.... To him, as theauthor of a work on education, and as a man of the greatest influence, Matthew presented a copy of our book. A short time after he received an invitation to dine with Mr. Bentham. He was received in the most flattering manner. Mr. Bentham informed him that, when he first saw the book, disgusted as he had often been by the vague generalities of treatises on education, he threw it aside without looking into it. Shortly after, however, he opened the book, with very slight hopes of discovering anything worth reading. His attention was very soon fixed; he gave it to his reader, a young man of seventeen, who, to use Mr. Bentham’s own phrase, went ‘chuckling all the way through it.’ Mr. Bentham was so delighted with the work that he kept it on a little shelf constantly within reach, and opened it many times during dinner.”

Bentham sent a friend to inspect the school. “He certainly did not neglect his duty, for he would take nothing on credit. Such inspections as these, however, far from displeasing us, are exactly what we want.”

So favourable was the inspector’s report, that Bentham placed two Greeks at Hazelwood at his own expense. He circulated the Magazine that the boys published among his friends, and even sent a contribution to its pages in a letter franked by Joseph Hume:—

“Queen’s Square Place, Westminster,“April 11th, 1823.“Proposed for the ‘Hazelwood Magazine,’ with Mr. Bentham’s love to the good boys thereof, that they may consider which of the two modes of discipline is preferable.“Extract from theMorning Chronicle,April 11th, 1823.“‘An active Schoolmaster.—According to the ‘German Pedagogic Magazine,’ vol. 3, p. 407, died lately in Spain, a schoolmaster who for fifty-one years had superintended a large institution with old-fashioned severity. From an average inferred by means of recorded observations, one of the ushers had calculated that in the course of his exertions he had given 911,500 canings, 124,000 floggings, 209,000 custodes, 136,000 tips with the ruler, and 22,700 tasks to get by heart. It was further calculated that he made 700 boys standon peas, 600 kneel on a sharp edge of wood, 5,000 wear the fool’s cap, and 1,700 hold the rod. How vast the quantity of human misery inflicted by a single perverse educator.’—Whitehaven Gazette.”

“Queen’s Square Place, Westminster,“April 11th, 1823.

“Proposed for the ‘Hazelwood Magazine,’ with Mr. Bentham’s love to the good boys thereof, that they may consider which of the two modes of discipline is preferable.

“Extract from theMorning Chronicle,April 11th, 1823.

“‘An active Schoolmaster.—According to the ‘German Pedagogic Magazine,’ vol. 3, p. 407, died lately in Spain, a schoolmaster who for fifty-one years had superintended a large institution with old-fashioned severity. From an average inferred by means of recorded observations, one of the ushers had calculated that in the course of his exertions he had given 911,500 canings, 124,000 floggings, 209,000 custodes, 136,000 tips with the ruler, and 22,700 tasks to get by heart. It was further calculated that he made 700 boys standon peas, 600 kneel on a sharp edge of wood, 5,000 wear the fool’s cap, and 1,700 hold the rod. How vast the quantity of human misery inflicted by a single perverse educator.’—Whitehaven Gazette.”

Bentham wrote to Dr. Parr “in high terms of the system, saying that it had caused him to throw aside all he had done himself.” He kept up his interest in the school, and some years later, in company with Mrs. Grote, at whose house he was staying, visited Rowland Hill at Bruce Castle. “Mr. Bentham,” he wrote on September 15th, 1827, “paid us a visit on Wednesday, and went away highly delighted. I never saw him in such spirits before. It is the first time he has left his home since his return from Paris (in 1825).” The fame of Hazelwood rapidly spread. The Greek Committee placed two young Greeks in the school:—

“His Excellency the Tripolitan Ambassador has informed us that he has sent to Tripoli for six young Africans, and the Algerine Ambassador, not to be outdone by his piratical brother, has sent for a dozen from Algiers. The Persian Ambassador also thinks it would be much to the advantage of the monarchy he represents to put a few persons under our guidance. If these worthies should come, we must look out for a Mosque.”

“His Excellency the Tripolitan Ambassador has informed us that he has sent to Tripoli for six young Africans, and the Algerine Ambassador, not to be outdone by his piratical brother, has sent for a dozen from Algiers. The Persian Ambassador also thinks it would be much to the advantage of the monarchy he represents to put a few persons under our guidance. If these worthies should come, we must look out for a Mosque.”

“We will rejoice over them,” wrote old Mr. Hill to his son, “when winds and seas have wafted them to port. Think not this proceeds from incredulity. So much good fortune as to be the means of sending civilization, and of darting one ray of liberty upon the wilds of Africa, seems too much to hope for.”

Wilberforce, the venerable champion of negro emancipation, and Grote, the future historian of Greece, went to Birmingham to inspect the school. Grote heard the boys construe Homer. Even at that time enough was known of his studies in Greek tomake the young master who was taking the class feel not a little nervous. Two of Mrs. Grote’s nephews were removed from Eton and placed at Hazelwood. Five years later Grote, writing to Rowland Hill to introduce a friend, says, “I have taken the liberty of mentioning to him the high opinion which I entertain of the Hazelwood system.” The elder of the two nephews on leaving Cambridge went over to Stockholm as a kind of apostle of the new learning. “Public Education” had been translated into Swedish by Count Frölich, and a company was formed in Sweden to found a “Hillian School.” Professor Säve, of the University of Upsala, stayed a month at Hazelwood, carefully studying the system. But even a Professor could not master such a system in a month, and aid was called for from England. The young Cambridge man offered himself as a volunteer in the great cause. He went over to Stockholm, and for many a year helped to keep the faith pure and undefiled in theHillska Skola.

Lord John Russell sent Dr. Maltby to inspect the school, and Dr. Maltby some years later on, when Bishop of Durham, gave out the prizes. “The number of visitors here,” wrote Mr. M. D. Hill when on a visit to his father’s house, “is immense. It is quite a nuisance. They sometimes have three or four parties at a time, and not a day passes without some.” The Marquis of Lansdowne, the Earl of Clarendon, Lord Auckland, Lord Kinnaird, Sir George Napier, Sir George Pollock, Brougham, De Quincey, Roscoe, Malthus, Joseph Hume, Nassau Senior, Robert Owen, W. J. Fox, Basil Hall, Babbage, and Lardner were all interested in Hazelwood, and not a few of them sent pupils there. Some of them even wished to reform the constitution. “We have had, onthe whole,” wrote old Mr. Hill to his son, “a pleasant interview with Mr. Hume and Dr. Gilchrist. They wish to set us right in two important particulars. First—That we should compel all to remain when the Committee comes to be chosen. Second—That the votes be all secret on that and all other occasions. We are quite obstinate on both questions, and, in conformity with usage, persist in old ways. You will be most highly amused with the honourable gentleman’s penetrative inspection, when it shall become safe to tell all. He is, however, a right good fellow. The Doctor set out with a grammatical examination, but presently delapsed into an etymological disquisition and lecture, exquisitely amusing and, as I maintain, highly instructive.” In January, 1825, “Public Education” was criticised in the “Edinburgh Review,” and criticised in the most friendly spirit. The “London Magazine” followed a year later with a long, and a still more friendly, article by De Quincey. M. Jullien, the editor of the “Revue Encyclopédique,” himself inspected the school, and then published in his Review an article on the book. The ex-President of the United States, Thomas Jefferson, who was at that time organising the University of Virginia, sent for the work. Mr. Bowring wrote to say that he had himself sent out a copy to the President of Haiti. Many pupils were sent to Hazelwood from abroad, chiefly from the newly-founded Republics of South America. The school almost at one bound sprang into fame. “It was a celebrity,” Rowland Hill wrote in his old age “which I now think was excessive, and which was followed in some instances by disappointment.” Yet at the time it might well have seemed to the young man that his early dreams were not the children of an idle brain. He might well have thoughtthat he had already done much towards rendering his name illustrious in after ages.[63]In his letters, however, I find few signs of triumph. In his Journal, unfortunately, a break of many years begins about this time. He had begun to keep it for the sake of practice in composition, and his lesson was now learnt. “I can now employ my time to greater advantage, and I rather grudge the little attention which I still devote to my history.”

His health was breaking down under his heavy labour. Writing to his eldest brother a fortnight after the beginning of the summer holidays of 1822, he says:—

“You complain, and with justice, that I do not write to you. To tell the truth, since the holidays commenced I have done nothing at all. I can scarcely say how the time has passed; all I know is that it is gone. The exertions previous to the exhibition were succeeded by a languor of which I have not yet been able to rid myself. It was not my intention to have left home these holidays, for there is much that I wish to do, but every one tells me I am thin and pale.... Arthur and Frederic are much in the same predicament with myself.”

“You complain, and with justice, that I do not write to you. To tell the truth, since the holidays commenced I have done nothing at all. I can scarcely say how the time has passed; all I know is that it is gone. The exertions previous to the exhibition were succeeded by a languor of which I have not yet been able to rid myself. It was not my intention to have left home these holidays, for there is much that I wish to do, but every one tells me I am thin and pale.... Arthur and Frederic are much in the same predicament with myself.”

He had much wanted, he said, to go to Scotland, with letters of introduction to the officer who was conducting the trigonometrical survey. Owen’s establishment at New Lanark had also “a strong magnetic influence.” A year later (1823) he again excuses his neglect to write to his brother. “Writing a letter always costs me a headache.” He had just enjoyed a six weeks’ tour through the north of England and Scotland:—

“Through Westmoreland and Cumberland I of course walked, and never spent four days more pleasantly than in viewing the delightfulscenery those counties afford. At New Lanark I was received in the most hospitable manner by the Owens. I spent two days and a-half there very pleasantly and profitably. In the management of the children neither rewards nor punishments are employed. The consequences are that the children appear very happy, very healthy, many very intelligent, and many very inattentive and disorderly; but when I consider that the children in the schools are nearly all under ten years of age, and that what they are taught is effected without any pain whatever being intentionally inflicted, I cannot be sure that theirs is not the correct mode of proceeding.”

“Through Westmoreland and Cumberland I of course walked, and never spent four days more pleasantly than in viewing the delightfulscenery those counties afford. At New Lanark I was received in the most hospitable manner by the Owens. I spent two days and a-half there very pleasantly and profitably. In the management of the children neither rewards nor punishments are employed. The consequences are that the children appear very happy, very healthy, many very intelligent, and many very inattentive and disorderly; but when I consider that the children in the schools are nearly all under ten years of age, and that what they are taught is effected without any pain whatever being intentionally inflicted, I cannot be sure that theirs is not the correct mode of proceeding.”

During this tour he was free from pain nearly all the time:—

“But the very morning after my return the pain returned, and has not yet left me, though it is not so bad as at first.... I am cruelly disappointed to find that so much time and money should have been expended to so little purpose, as it at present appears.”

“But the very morning after my return the pain returned, and has not yet left me, though it is not so bad as at first.... I am cruelly disappointed to find that so much time and money should have been expended to so little purpose, as it at present appears.”

Three months later he describes his fear of a relapse into “the maddening state of mind” from which he had but lately escaped.

In the spring of 1824 he writes:—

“I cannot condense my efforts as I used to do. I am obliged to take more time for everything.”

“I cannot condense my efforts as I used to do. I am obliged to take more time for everything.”

A few months later his brother Matthew writes to him:—

“I am very glad to hear of your recovery. If I were you, I would let the exhibition go to the Devil rather than overwork myself.... Depend upon it, you will never be paid either in fame or profit for any exertion in that barren spot. Spare yourself for better times.”

“I am very glad to hear of your recovery. If I were you, I would let the exhibition go to the Devil rather than overwork myself.... Depend upon it, you will never be paid either in fame or profit for any exertion in that barren spot. Spare yourself for better times.”

When the summer holidays began, he took a trip to Paris:—

“I visited one of the floating baths on the Seine, when, forgetful of my weak state, I plunged at once into deep water. Immediatelythe attendants hurried forward to my rescue with long, slender poles, like boat-hooks, and were very angry, as though I had intended suicide. And, in fact, I found that I was quite too weak to swim.”

“I visited one of the floating baths on the Seine, when, forgetful of my weak state, I plunged at once into deep water. Immediatelythe attendants hurried forward to my rescue with long, slender poles, like boat-hooks, and were very angry, as though I had intended suicide. And, in fact, I found that I was quite too weak to swim.”

It was in vain that his brother urged him to spare himself. Whatever he put his hand to, he did with all his might. A year later (September, 1825) he was once more dangerously ill. “Mr. Hodgson,”[64]his father wrote, “prohibits all hints even about business. He says that the serious aspect assumed by the carbuncle is clearly the effect of mental excitation, and that your brother’s is the first instance of such a turn in a person under forty that has come under his observation.... It is a sad thing to be paralysed at the instant of high water in our affairs. Disappointment is, however, no new thing to us, and patience may work a retrieval, as it has done in times past.”

Two days later he again writes:—

“Though it were vain to disguise the fears which intrude themselves on your mother’s mind and my own, still we have Mr. Hodgson’s assurance that all will go well, provided the dear boy’s mind can be kept from painful excitement.... Mr. Hodgson has told your mother that, as soon as Rowland recovers, he shall strongly advise him, as a medical friend, to abandon any plan that shall demand unusual energy. These, my dear boy, are damping suggestions. My fear is that they will be unavailing, and that a life so truly valuable will be lost in splendid but abortive efforts.”

“Though it were vain to disguise the fears which intrude themselves on your mother’s mind and my own, still we have Mr. Hodgson’s assurance that all will go well, provided the dear boy’s mind can be kept from painful excitement.... Mr. Hodgson has told your mother that, as soon as Rowland recovers, he shall strongly advise him, as a medical friend, to abandon any plan that shall demand unusual energy. These, my dear boy, are damping suggestions. My fear is that they will be unavailing, and that a life so truly valuable will be lost in splendid but abortive efforts.”

The severe operations which he had to undergo he bore with the utmost fortitude. During the worst of them he never uttered a sound, but merely said when it was over, “Come, that’s no trifle.” Bodily pain at all times of his life he endured with silent patience.

It was fortunate that there was no sense of failure inhis plans to heighten his illness. He had none of that misery to encounter which, as he had written, would come upon him should Hazelwood not succeed. His success seemed complete. In 1819 the new school-house had opened with sixty-six pupils. Year after year for seven years the numbers steadily rose till, by 1826, there were 150. Rugby did not at that time number so many. When he was lying on his sick-bed his father wrote—“Applications (for admittance) are almost become a source of anxiety, unless they were made pleasant by a greater portion of health and strength to meet them.” I have been told by one who was then living in Birmingham that so great for a time was the eagerness to get boys into Hazelwood that, when the school was full, strangers often sought the advocacy of a common friend, in the hope of still securing a place for their son. The very thoroughness of the success was a great misfortune. The steady growth of the new school during its first few years was due to its real merits. The two youngest sons had joined their elder brothers in the management, and for some years there were four of them all working harmoniously together, and with the greatest energy. “Public Education” did not at first rapidly swell the numbers. But when Jeffrey in the “Edinburgh Review,” and De Quincey in the “London Magazine,” both blew a loud blast in its praise, then the tide of prosperity set in with far too sudden and too full a flood. The heads of the young schoolmasters were by no means turned by their success. They found themselves confronted with fresh difficulties. Rowland Hill had before this become painfully aware of his own shortcomings. But these were brought more than ever home to him by his very success, for it lifted him at once into ahigher class of society. Men of rank and men of learning sent their children to be educated at Hazelwood. The expectations that “Public Education” raised were undoubtedly too high. The young authors wrote with thorough honesty. But they were writing about their own inventions and their own schemes; and, like all other inventors and schemers, they had a parental fondness for the offspring of their own brains. The rapid increase in the number of pupils was, moreover, as it always must be, a great source of danger to the discipline. In any school it is always a very hazardous time when the proportion of new boys is large. But in such a school as Hazelwood, with its complicated system of self-government, the hazard must have been unusually great. Out of 117 boys, with whom the school opened in January, 1825, only sixty-three had been in it more than seven months. At the very time, therefore, when Rowland Hill might with good reason have looked to enjoy some rest from his prolonged toil, a fresh strain was thrown upon him. It is not wonderful that he sank under it for a time, almost broken, as it seemed, in health and spirits.

In the midst of his hard work, a few months before the second of the two illnesses, he had been suddenly called upon to face a new difficulty. He had been bent on founding a great school, which should serve as a kind of model to the whole country. “I had refrained from writing to you,” he wrote to his eldest brother, when he was regaining his strength, “because I knew it to be important to my speedy recovery to keep down as much as possible all those associations connected with the little school, and with the great school, which so uniformly arise in my mind whenever I write to you, let the subject be what it may.”

Even so early as the year 1820 he had recorded in his Journal:—

“All our plans are necessarily calculated for great numbers, and I contend that, where the strength of the teachers is proportionate, a school cannot be too numerous. If we had 500 instead of 70 boys, I would make this place a Paradise. Till we have some such number, the effects of our system, great as they have already been, cannot be justly appreciated. I have some hopes that in time we may be able to explode the foolish ideas that private education and limited numbers are desirable.”

“All our plans are necessarily calculated for great numbers, and I contend that, where the strength of the teachers is proportionate, a school cannot be too numerous. If we had 500 instead of 70 boys, I would make this place a Paradise. Till we have some such number, the effects of our system, great as they have already been, cannot be justly appreciated. I have some hopes that in time we may be able to explode the foolish ideas that private education and limited numbers are desirable.”

A few years later he began to see that it was not in a suburb of Birmingham that even he could make a Paradise. He saw that to carry out his plans the day must come when he should move to the neighbourhood of London. There was still much, he felt, to be done before he should be ready to take this step. But from a clear sky there came a clap of thunder. He was suddenly filled with alarm lest his plans should be forestalled. He was startled to learn that Bentham had one day said to Matthew Hill, “I have been thinking whether, if a sucker were taken from your Hazelwood tree and planted near London, it would grow.” In February, 1825, Matthew wrote that Brougham had just told him that he, John Smith,[65]and James Mill had resolved to found a school at London on the Hazelwood plan immediately. “Brougham has some money in hand, and J. Smith has offered to find the rest at four per cent. Brougham says that Burdett, Hobhouse, and Mill are strongly in favour of Hazelwood.”[66]Rowland Hill was not a little alarmed at the news, and with some reason, too. “Will it not be well,” he wrote back to his brother, “to inform Brougham that we have it in contemplation to establish a metropolitan school ourselves? If he knows this already, I think his conduct is very strange.” The brothers were not long in coming to a decision. They resolved to act upon Bentham’s thought with all speed, and plant near London a sucker from the Hazelwood tree.

BRUCE CASTLE, TOTTENHAM.

BRUCE CASTLE, TOTTENHAM.

As soon as Rowland had somewhat recovered his strength, he began to explore the country round London, in the quest after a suitable house. The search was a long one. “I have,” he wrote in March, 1826, “with the exception of a small district which I am just going to explore, and a part of Essex, examined every great road from London.” At length his efforts were crowned with success. In the old mansion which had for ages borne the name of Bruce Castle, standing in the beautiful fragment of what once had been a wide park, he found a home for his new school. He had always been keenly alive to the charms both of scenery and antiquity. Here he found the two happily combined. The park, indeed, was but small, yet so thick was the foliage of the stately trees, and so luxuriant the undergrowth of the shrubberies, that its boundaries failed to catch the eye. High overhead the rooks, from time immemorial, had had their homes in the lofty elms. The wood-pigeons built on the topmost branches of a noble cedar of Lebanon, and the cuckoo, with his two-fold shout, never forgot there the return of spring. The kingfisher has been seen perching on a branch that overhung the pool in which the water-hen has reared her young. Hard by the main building stood an ancient tower, where the owls, year after year, made their nest—a tower which was standing when Elizabeth visited the mansion, and when Henry VIII. met there his sister, QueenMargaret of Scotland. Ancient though it is, it does not go back to days when both the house and manor took their name from their owner, the father of King Robert Bruce. The foundations of earlier buildings have been found deep beneath the lawn. On two of the bricks of the house there can still be read the first letters of names which were carved, as the date tells, when a Stuart was King in England. Through a narrow gate in the western boundary of the park, the path leads, across a quiet lane, into the churchyard. Here, as tradition told, the wall had been broken down when the last of the Lords Coleraine died, who had once owned the manor, and through the gap the body had been carried to its resting-place. Close by this little gate rose a graceful Lombardy poplar to the height of 100 feet—a landmark to all the country round. Through the trees, when winter had stripped them of their leaves, was seen from the windows of the Castle an ancient church-tower of singular beauty: ivy had covered it to the coping-stone with the growth of full two hundred years. When the foliage of summer hid it from the view, nevertheless it made its presence known by a peal of bells famous for their sweetness. The sound of the summoning bell might well inspire lofty thoughts and high aims, for it had once hung in the Citadel of Quebec, and had rung out the alarm when Wolfe stormed the heights of Abraham. The bells still remain, but the ivy has yielded to the ruthless hand of an ignorant restorer. The tower is ivy-mantled no more; and the graceful work of two long centuries has been in a moment wantonly cast away.

This beautiful home was doubly endeared to Rowland Hill, for here he brought his bride, and here he spent the first six years of his wedded life. In the same summer that he left Hazelwood he had marriedthe playmate of his childhood. His affection for her had grown with his growth, and had never for a moment wavered. He had long loved her with the deep but quiet love of a strong nature. He was no Orlando to character his thoughts on the barks of trees. Even to his Journal, though he kept it hidden from every eye but his own, he never entrusted his secret. Two years before he kept his golden wedding-day he noticed, it would seem, this silence so uncommon in a lover. “From motives of delicacy,” he noted down, “I avoided in my Journal all mention of my early attachment to C——.” If his early records were silent in her praise, yet, when he came to write the history of the great work of his life, he spoke out with no uncertain accents. “I cannot record my marriage,” he wrote, “without adding that my dear wife’s help in my subsequent toils, and not least in those best known to the public, was important, perhaps essential, to their success.” An old-fashioned friend of his family, who knew well how hard she had laboured in helping her husband in his great work, on hearing some one say that Mr. Rowland Hill was the Father of Penny Postage, quaintly remarked, “Then I know who was its Mother. It was his wife.”

The family group at Hazelwood, of which Rowland Hill had for many years formed the central figure, began with his settlement at Bruce Castle to break up. It had from time to time been lessened by the marriage of a child; nevertheless, four sons and a daughter had been left, who lived year after year under their parents’ roof in harmony and with great singleness of heart. “In our course through life,” he said in a passage which I once more quote, “from the beginning to the present hour, each one of us has been always ready to help the others to the best of his power; and no one has failed to call for such assistance again and again.” How great was the aid that he afforded his brothers, they gratefully acknowledged. One of them, writing to him a few years after he had left Hazelwood, said:—

“No one, I am sure, can forget for many hours together that the family owes much more to you than to any other member—that, in fact, the sacrifices you have made, and the energy and talent you have brought to bear on its advancement ought to obtain for you the constant acknowledgments and gratitude of all. Arthur and I frequently avow this in our private conversation. I think, too, you show beyond dispute that you have been more persevering than most of us in your pursuits, even though you were not allowed to choose your profession.”

“No one, I am sure, can forget for many hours together that the family owes much more to you than to any other member—that, in fact, the sacrifices you have made, and the energy and talent you have brought to bear on its advancement ought to obtain for you the constant acknowledgments and gratitude of all. Arthur and I frequently avow this in our private conversation. I think, too, you show beyond dispute that you have been more persevering than most of us in your pursuits, even though you were not allowed to choose your profession.”

In the time of their tribulation and in the time oftheir wealth, the brothers were equally united. Many years they had passed in breathing—

“The keen, the wholesome air of poverty;And drinking from the well of homely life.”

“The keen, the wholesome air of poverty;And drinking from the well of homely life.”

“The keen, the wholesome air of poverty;And drinking from the well of homely life.”

“The keen, the wholesome air of poverty;

And drinking from the well of homely life.”

Not a few years had they now enjoyed of prosperity. But prosperity had no power to snap that bond which had been knitted in adversity. “The whole family participated in my joy,” wrote Rowland, when, as a boy of thirteen, he won the drawing prize. Throughout life, every prize that he won—every prize that any of them won—was a matter of rejoicing to all. “The spirit of co-operation was recommended to us,” the brothers wrote, “by our parents—during their lives and on their death-beds.” An instance of this may be seen in the following letter, written to Rowland Hill by his father:—

“September 17, 1827.“My dear Son,—This day thirty-five years ago I lost my beloved brother Matthew. Dating this letter first brought into my mind the recollection of the circumstance that this was the melancholy anniversary, which is marked in my mind more than any other day of the year. Nor have I a wish that such might not be the case. To see my children united, as they are, in strong fraternal affection is doubly delightful, as it so forcibly reminds me of that which subsisted between my brother and myself to the moment of his death, and which will remain with me till quenched by the corresponding event. The sorrows of such feelings you know to be preferable to the joys of anti-social gratifications.”

“September 17, 1827.

“My dear Son,—This day thirty-five years ago I lost my beloved brother Matthew. Dating this letter first brought into my mind the recollection of the circumstance that this was the melancholy anniversary, which is marked in my mind more than any other day of the year. Nor have I a wish that such might not be the case. To see my children united, as they are, in strong fraternal affection is doubly delightful, as it so forcibly reminds me of that which subsisted between my brother and myself to the moment of his death, and which will remain with me till quenched by the corresponding event. The sorrows of such feelings you know to be preferable to the joys of anti-social gratifications.”

On this spirit they all steadily acted. I have come across an old letter in which the eldest son wrote to ask Rowland for his help in a matter of great moment. It so happened that the request came at a time when he could be but ill spared from his school. He answered:—

“As we cannot, from ignorance of many of the facts, judge how far my going is important to your interests, I will state to you the sacrifice on our part, and then leave the decision in your hands, begging of you to determine the question with reference to the total amount of advantage, and not caring whether the sacrifice is on our side or yours.”

“As we cannot, from ignorance of many of the facts, judge how far my going is important to your interests, I will state to you the sacrifice on our part, and then leave the decision in your hands, begging of you to determine the question with reference to the total amount of advantage, and not caring whether the sacrifice is on our side or yours.”

He states at length the difficulties under which he himself lies; and thus concludes:—

“You know us too well to suspect us of unwillingness to assist in promoting your success in life. If the probable advantage to yourself, and through you to the other members of the family, will, in your opinion, outweigh the probable inconveniences which we may sustain, pray say so without the slightest reserve, and I will meet you at the time appointed.”

“You know us too well to suspect us of unwillingness to assist in promoting your success in life. If the probable advantage to yourself, and through you to the other members of the family, will, in your opinion, outweigh the probable inconveniences which we may sustain, pray say so without the slightest reserve, and I will meet you at the time appointed.”

When he was first made a partner in the school, he recorded in his Journal: “I do not know whether my father intends to give me a share of the profits of the business, and I shall say nothing about it myself till he can better afford it.” It would seem that for the next nine years he altogether forgot to say anything about it, for it was not till the time of his marriage that any division was made of the common stock. The father and mother and the four sons who had been concerned in the management of the school had hitherto lived like the early Christians: “Neither said any of them that aught of the things which he possessed was his own; but they had all things common.” “I suppose,” writes one of the survivors of this band of brothers, “when any one was about to incur a larger expense than usual, as for a long journey, he must have mentioned the matter to the others, and so obtained at least a tacit consent; but there was nothing formal in the matter, nor can I remember a single discussion on the subject; for each knowing the family necessities acted accordingly. Ofany separate fund possessed by any single member I have no recollection.” To hold property in common for many years would generally put family concord to a severe strain. To divide it might, perhaps, put it to one still more severe. Happily in the division that now took place the strain was not felt. The second son, Edwin, who up to this time had had no share in the school, was made arbitrator, and he apportioned the common property, which was of no inconsiderable amount, among his parents and his brothers. “I have,” he wrote, “considered the property as having been accumulated within the last twelve years, and I have supposed that the efforts of each brother were equally efficient at the same age. I suppose accumulation to begin with the age of twenty years. The value of the services of each I have assumed to increase with the age of each, and in the proportion of age.”

The brothers now drew up Articles of Partnership. The two schools were to be managed as one business. The parents retired, but their place was filled up by the second son and his wife. The Twelfth Article of Partnership was as follows:—

“From a consideration that it is far more important that each claimant should receive enough money to enable him to defray the reasonable expenses of his maintenance, clothing, &c., than that some should be accumulating property, whilst others might be running in debt, it was determined that should the profits in any one year ever fall so low as not to yield more than the estimated amount of the necessary expenses of each claimant for that year, the proportions recorded above shall no longer be observed, and the following sums (which are considered as equivalent to such necessary expenditure) shall be substituted in their stead.”

“From a consideration that it is far more important that each claimant should receive enough money to enable him to defray the reasonable expenses of his maintenance, clothing, &c., than that some should be accumulating property, whilst others might be running in debt, it was determined that should the profits in any one year ever fall so low as not to yield more than the estimated amount of the necessary expenses of each claimant for that year, the proportions recorded above shall no longer be observed, and the following sums (which are considered as equivalent to such necessary expenditure) shall be substituted in their stead.”

The “necessary expenditure of each claimant” was calculated by the number of people whom he had tosupport. For each of the three unmarried brothers it was fixed at the same amount. The two married brothers were each to be allowed between two and three times as much as a bachelor. If in any year there were not profits enough made to supply even the “necessary expenditure,” each claimant, nevertheless, could draw upon the general fund for “the stated sum.” In more years than one it happened that “the total of profits arising from all sources did not equal the expenses incurred in the maintenance of the families.” The profits were then divided “according to the plan provided to meet such a case, namely, that each partner have a share proportioned to his estimated reasonable expenses.” The more children a partner had, the larger share he received. In this arrangement there was, it must be allowed, something not altogether in accordance with the principles laid down by Mr. Malthus.

When, some years later, the school partnership was dissolved, a plan for mutual insurance was at once formed by Rowland Hill and the three other surviving partners under the name ofThe Family Fund:—

“To afford to each a security, to a certain extent, against future suffering from poverty, and to secure to all such advantages of union as are perfectly consistent with the non-existence of a partnership, it is further agreed to form a fund, to be called the Family Fund, to be applied to the relief of any of the undersigned, or their wives, or their descendants, who, in the opinion of the Managers of the Fund, may require such relief.“The Managers of the Fund to consist of the survivors among the undersigned, or such other persons as the Managers, for the time being, may appoint in writing.“The Managers to have the uncontrolled disposal of the Fund, as regards both principal and interest.”

“To afford to each a security, to a certain extent, against future suffering from poverty, and to secure to all such advantages of union as are perfectly consistent with the non-existence of a partnership, it is further agreed to form a fund, to be called the Family Fund, to be applied to the relief of any of the undersigned, or their wives, or their descendants, who, in the opinion of the Managers of the Fund, may require such relief.

“The Managers of the Fund to consist of the survivors among the undersigned, or such other persons as the Managers, for the time being, may appoint in writing.

“The Managers to have the uncontrolled disposal of the Fund, as regards both principal and interest.”

Each brother was to begin by contributing to the fund a considerable sum of money, “and, further,one-half of the surplus of his annual clear earnings (exclusive of the proceeds of investments) over his reasonable expenses.” The surplus earnings were to be taken on a series of years. An estimate, varying in each case, was adopted of the reasonable expenses of each brother. While they considered it expedient, they said, to leave themselves and their successors unfettered in the management of the fund, they, nevertheless, thought that it might be useful to put on record some of their views. From these views I extract the following:—

“That anyone possessing an interest in the Fund should be considered as entitled to relief, if in circumstances much depressed as compared with the others, though not in absolute poverty.“That so long, however, as he is able, without great embarrassment, to draw on his own capital, his claim to relief should not be admitted.“That in determining the amount of relief, regard should be had to the propriety or impropriety of the conduct which has led to its necessity.“That at occasional annual meetings,—say once in ten years,—it is desirable to consider whether it might not be expedient to close the Family Fund account, and divide the whole among the undersigned, or their wives and their descendants. It is the present opinion of the undersigned that such a step will probably be expedient, when all their children shall have attained adult age, with a view, perhaps, of a similar arrangement being entered into by such of their descendants as may desire it.“That in the ultimate division of the Fund, regard should be had first to the unmerited necessities of the respective families; secondly, to the amount of aid which shall have been previously afforded to each from the Fund; and, lastly, to the total amount contributed.”

“That anyone possessing an interest in the Fund should be considered as entitled to relief, if in circumstances much depressed as compared with the others, though not in absolute poverty.

“That so long, however, as he is able, without great embarrassment, to draw on his own capital, his claim to relief should not be admitted.

“That in determining the amount of relief, regard should be had to the propriety or impropriety of the conduct which has led to its necessity.

“That at occasional annual meetings,—say once in ten years,—it is desirable to consider whether it might not be expedient to close the Family Fund account, and divide the whole among the undersigned, or their wives and their descendants. It is the present opinion of the undersigned that such a step will probably be expedient, when all their children shall have attained adult age, with a view, perhaps, of a similar arrangement being entered into by such of their descendants as may desire it.

“That in the ultimate division of the Fund, regard should be had first to the unmerited necessities of the respective families; secondly, to the amount of aid which shall have been previously afforded to each from the Fund; and, lastly, to the total amount contributed.”

The Family Fund existed for many years. At last it had done its work, and it was brought to a close. Whereupon the four brothers issued the following address to “the junior members of the Hill family”:—

“Many of you know that until lately there existed, under the name of the Family Fund, a joint property formed by contributions from several members of the family, and intended to serve as a security against pecuniary distress on the part either of the subscribers, or of those immediately dependent on them. As each of us who did so subscribe subsequently accumulated property sufficient for the limited security required, as the above arrangement was attended with trouble, and, in the unsatisfactory state of the laws respecting property, might, at some future time, have caused serious difficulties, we brought it to a close, and divided the property of which we had thus been joint owners.“As this dissolution is liable to misapprehension, we think it may be useful to you to be informed that it proceeds from no distrust of the principle on which the Family Fund was established; which, indeed, we still regard as perfectly sound in itself, and, under a better state of the law, equally applicable to any set of persons who, having confidence in each other, are yet, individually, of such limited means, as to stand exposed to risk of pecuniary difficulties.“The principle involved is simply that of insurance, founded on the undoubted fact that want is a greater evil than wealth, beyond a simple competence, is a benefit; and that, consequently, where the income is either terminable or uncertain, it is wise, after providing the necessaries of life, to employ at least a part of the remainder in purchasing security for the future.“We may add that in such a union, beyond the mere material benefit, there naturally arises a moral influence of considerable power; and of this we have experienced the advantage; our connection having been sufficiently close to give to each of us, in a great measure, the benefit of the experience, knowledge, and judgment, of all the others, and to secure to each that friendly advice of which every one, some time or other, stands in need.“We attribute such success as has attended our family, and such respect as it has obtained, very much to the spirit of co-operation which was recommended to us by our parents during their lives and on their death-beds; and which we, in turn, living and dying, would recommend to our successors as amongst the best means of enabling them to do good to themselves individually and collectively, and no less to their fellow-creatures at large.“Edwin Hill,“Rowland Hill,“Arthur Hill,“Frederic Hill.“Bruce Castle, Tottenham,July, 1856.”

“Many of you know that until lately there existed, under the name of the Family Fund, a joint property formed by contributions from several members of the family, and intended to serve as a security against pecuniary distress on the part either of the subscribers, or of those immediately dependent on them. As each of us who did so subscribe subsequently accumulated property sufficient for the limited security required, as the above arrangement was attended with trouble, and, in the unsatisfactory state of the laws respecting property, might, at some future time, have caused serious difficulties, we brought it to a close, and divided the property of which we had thus been joint owners.

“As this dissolution is liable to misapprehension, we think it may be useful to you to be informed that it proceeds from no distrust of the principle on which the Family Fund was established; which, indeed, we still regard as perfectly sound in itself, and, under a better state of the law, equally applicable to any set of persons who, having confidence in each other, are yet, individually, of such limited means, as to stand exposed to risk of pecuniary difficulties.

“The principle involved is simply that of insurance, founded on the undoubted fact that want is a greater evil than wealth, beyond a simple competence, is a benefit; and that, consequently, where the income is either terminable or uncertain, it is wise, after providing the necessaries of life, to employ at least a part of the remainder in purchasing security for the future.

“We may add that in such a union, beyond the mere material benefit, there naturally arises a moral influence of considerable power; and of this we have experienced the advantage; our connection having been sufficiently close to give to each of us, in a great measure, the benefit of the experience, knowledge, and judgment, of all the others, and to secure to each that friendly advice of which every one, some time or other, stands in need.

“We attribute such success as has attended our family, and such respect as it has obtained, very much to the spirit of co-operation which was recommended to us by our parents during their lives and on their death-beds; and which we, in turn, living and dying, would recommend to our successors as amongst the best means of enabling them to do good to themselves individually and collectively, and no less to their fellow-creatures at large.

“Edwin Hill,“Rowland Hill,“Arthur Hill,“Frederic Hill.

“Bruce Castle, Tottenham,July, 1856.”

As they trusted each other for aid in case of need, so at all times did they look to each other for counsel. The affairs of all were known to each. At every important turn, each sought the judgment of all. “I have mentioned your advice to the Family Council,” wrote Rowland Hill, in the year 1825, to his eldest brother. “After some discussion, the following agreement was come to.” In describing a decision to which he came twelve years after this date, he writes: “As usual in cases of great difficulty, I consulted my father and my brothers.” Eleven years later he entered in his Journal: “E. H., A. H., F. H., and I, met to consult on the steps to be taken in consequence of the Postmaster-General’s communication, and decided what should be done. These family consultations are a great aid to me.” When he was bringing the great work of his life to a close, he did not, he writes, send in his resignation, as Secretary to the Post-office, till he had first consulted his brothers. The following letter, which he wrote to his eldest brother, shows, not only how strongly he felt the advantages of this family union, but also how ready he always was to own, and own to the full, how much he himself had owed to it:—

“Hampstead, 4th December, 1867.“My dear Matthew,—Thank you very much for your kind and affectionate letter. Fortunately, the members of our family have always been ready to assist one another—consequently, each has worked with the combined force of all. This was markedly the case as regards Penny Postage, as I have endeavoured to show in the history. But for your great help and that of our brothers, I should have accomplished but little.“No one, I am sure, has a better right to draw consolation from past services than yourself. Not only have you individually and directly effected a vast amount of good, but you have been the pioneer for us all.“Very affectionately yours,“Rowland Hill.”[A fac-simile of this letter is given over-leaf.]

“Hampstead, 4th December, 1867.

“My dear Matthew,—Thank you very much for your kind and affectionate letter. Fortunately, the members of our family have always been ready to assist one another—consequently, each has worked with the combined force of all. This was markedly the case as regards Penny Postage, as I have endeavoured to show in the history. But for your great help and that of our brothers, I should have accomplished but little.

“No one, I am sure, has a better right to draw consolation from past services than yourself. Not only have you individually and directly effected a vast amount of good, but you have been the pioneer for us all.

“Very affectionately yours,

“Rowland Hill.”

[A fac-simile of this letter is given over-leaf.]

In the earlier meetings of the Family Council, rules were sometimes laid down for their own guidance. Some of the brothers took too little heed to what they said before outsiders; and, when politics or religion was the subject of talk, forgot that they were schoolmasters, and spoke out with the freedom of men. The Council accordingly passed the following resolution: “It is our opinion that when anyone, by announcing an opinion, or by a mode of expression, has startled his hearers, that circumstance is a strong presumptive proof that he has done an injury to himself.” This is worthy of La Rochefoucauld himself, and yet it was but little acted on, it would seem, by some of the members. Rowland Hill, writing to one of his brothers about the time when this resolution was passed, says: “In making your own conduct conform to that which we all agree to be right, you exercise a degree of self-control which no other member of the family has ever evinced.” It was to this rule, I have no doubt, that he was referring. At another meeting of the Council, I find it recorded: “It is desirable to settle how far perfection of speculative opinion should be sacrificed to practical effect.” The question, I fear, remains unsettled to the present day.

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