From Thomas Archer Hirst   May 6th/56

Broughton, | May 6^th/56

My dear John,

I heard of your letter in the Times and read your letter¹ today with great interest. I do not think you have much reason to fear the consequences of what you have done – on the contrary I have much faith that some good will come of it. I shall be anxious to see how it ends. The last week has been one of the most distressing ones to me since I came to Queenwood. We have been compelled to send two boys away on account of the evil habit² with which we have so long been fighting. One of them was Taylor’s son (of Romsey),³ the other Le Quesne of Jersey⁴. Le Quesne was a puny, weak-minded boy. He was only detected about a month ago, but it proved that he had been a slave to the habit for some years. I spoke to him very earnestly and he made me many solemn promises to amend. In less than a week after he was detected again and I thrashed him, but not very severely. I spoke to him especially about contaminating others, or speaking to others in a light manner about the habit. I thought I had frightened him but in less than a fortnight he was detected again. On being accused he stoutly denied it and I gave him a very severe thrashing. This broke him down and he made some revelations which astounded and afflicted me greatly. He and Taylor went out together, talked in the most obscene manner to one another and finally committed the act in one another’s presence. Now Taylor was a companion of George Williams,⁵ he was spoken to six months ago and by his manner he had led us to believe that our warnings had been effectual. As to encouraging others he had given us a solemn promise never to do so. Le Quesne’s evidence however proved that we had produced no impression upon him whatever. Of course our only resource now was to have both boys removed. We did so very promptly but very quietly. Le Quesne was put on board the steamer at Southampton, and I went to break the news to Taylor’s father at Romsey. He received my information as you may guess with deep grief. He is a good and I believe a high-minded man, but of course the shame brought upon his family obscured his calmer judgment, and he pleaded pitifully for his son, causing me terrible pain for I had to be firm. His son was at the moment at home on pleasure; after I left him he examined his son who denied the charge. I had scarcely returned to Queenwood when he arrived with his son, and a distressing scene occurred. The father thinking his son had been unjustly accused was indignant, requested me to repeat the charge in his son’s presence. I did so, stating all particulars, and turning to the son I said is all this true or not. The boy dared not deny it again, and the confession smote the father terribly. Again the father pleaded; Edmondson was present and gladly would I have left him to settle the matter but I was afraid of his giving way & was compelled to take it all upon myself though my heart ached for the poor smitten down man. It was melancholy to notice how the fear of shame and of what the world would say clouded his otherwise clear and high principles. Had it been another boy I saw he would have been on our side and would have insisted upon our doing what we did. The poor fellow at last roused me by descending to sophistry which he evidently felt to be such. He pleaded the prevalence of the habit and the differences of opinion of the medical men,⁶ some asserting (said he) the physiological necessity of it. To eradicate the vice was impossible he urged, and seeing that the lad was in other respects not bad we ought not to inflict upon him so terrible a punishment and bring his innocent family also to shame. This and much more he said sufficient to shake the firmest resolution but his sophistry roused me, as I said, and I told him firmly: ‘Mr Taylor, your present distress which I feel acutely blinds you to what is your own duty and ours. It is evident you do not believe in the physiological necessity of which you speak and the argument is unworthy of you. No right minded man will deny that it is a solemn duty in us to check this vice by every means in our power. Had your son himself fallen ninety nine times we could have forgiven him if we had been convinced that he was trying his best and was at any rate ashamed of his vice. But you forget it is for contaminating others that he must be removed. You will find no one to plead a physiological necessity for this. Let me beg you for a moment to put yourself in our position. We are entrusted by parents with the charge of many sons who may yet be ignorant of this degrading habit, we have lost all trust in your son who has proved himself incapable of appreciating its degrading character. Should we be fulfilling our duty were we to let them associate with your son any longer when we know that in all probability they would learn from him a beastly habit which would ruin them for ever, cling to them through life, and choke whatever was high and noble in them. Whatever I can do to mitigate your distress I will – a public expulsion would do more harm than good – it is not to punish him but to protect others that he must be removed and the more quietly it can be done the better. As to ruining him for life, that depends in a great measure upon yourself; your responsibility is great, but not so great as ours, and I trust that both you and ourselves will, when the first pangs of grief have departed, see our duties clearly, and do them.’ This produced some impression upon him but not much. I extended my hand and repeated my willingness at all times to do what I conscientiously could to assist him or his, but although he shook me by the hand he shook his head and said, ‘no, you can do nothing, you have damned him for life.’ These hard words hurt me much, I felt inclined to resent them but thought better of it, and merely looked him steadily in the face; he did not recall them but modified them merely by saying – ‘Perhaps not intentionally but really you have damned him for life.’ I left the room, and shortly after he took his boy away.

Both boys have gone now and the place is rid of two sources of contamination at any rate. But really, John, I am sick at heart with the prospect before me. Week by week we find more and more implicated and our preventative measures grow more severe. Continual fighting with such an ugly enemy has its reaction upon me and I am weary of finding my thoughts so incessantly dragged down to the subject. Many many times I have had to go through scenes that have quite unmanned me and I ask in vain – when will the end of all this come, or is there to be no end? I often ask myself have I found my life’s labour in this ugly thing? Am I to struggle with the effects of the negligence of a hundred fathers and take their responsibilities upon me? Sometimes I am prompted to reply ‘by Heaven, I will not’ and then again I see the selfishness of this and how it would be in me a shirking of duty to wash my hands of the whole profession of schoolmaster which has half lost its interest for me.

Well, the end of it all is that I reconcile myself to the duty which is nearest to me, and leave the future to itself.

Anna recovers slowly, the terrible weather keeps her back. For her sake and for my own I long for midsummer and the vacation. Never before did I long for it so much.

Pardon my complaining and say nothing to me but what will encourage me to persevere. | Yours affectionately, T.A. Hirst.

P.S. Of course like ourselves you will, both now and always, keep silence as to the cause of the expulsion of these two lads – indeed, as to the expulsion itself.

RI MS JT/1/H/223