More Family Values .....Chapter 5

[AnneM]

There now. I've been skiving off the housework again. Since I could not think at the moment of the further adventures of Effie and co I though I'd better introduce you to another imprtant actor in the drama! You can work out for yourselves who that is!

More Family Values

In a village in the other side of the country, James Campbell MA jolts awake and lifts his head from a pile of exercise books. What time is it? He pulls his watch from his pocket and is relieved to see that it is only 6 o’clock. He can still pay the visit he has been planning. He shivers as the fire in the school room has almost gone out. The wick in the oil lamp needs trimming and soon the light will begin to fail. Despite the school day being long over the smell of wet clothes and children still pervades the room.

He is ashamed that an active young man should fall asleep over his work but he knows that it is not physical exhaustion that has caused his lapse but frustration and disillusionment. The third son of a local landowner, he felt this was his home. During holidays from his school in Edinburgh he had often watched the village children running barefoot and been shocked to see boys and girls as young as eight or nine working long hours on farms and in service. At university he proved himself to be a diligent if not brilliant scholar. While his father was reasonably affluent he could not afford to keep his younger sons in idleness. A short lived attempt to study the law convinced him that he had no bent for it so he finally obtained his father’s grudging agreement to do what he had always dreamed, to return to his home area to bring the benefits of education to these poor children. Full of idealism and enthusiasm, he was going to change their lives. He had even believed for a while that the Education Act was almost as divinely inspired as Holy Scripture.

The reality however had almost caused him to lose faith completely.

Today there were only 16 of his 30 pupils in the schoolroom, most of them the youngest children dragged in by their bigger sisters. As he looked out over the rows of empty wooden desks he addressed the eldest and most forward of the girls, “Christian Morrison!” This buxom and friendly young woman looked around her as though searching for someone. James sighed and gave in. “Kirsty Morrison!”

“Yes, Dominie”

“Where is everyone, today?”

“Well you see, sir, the lambing is late this year because of the cold and there’s sowing to be done. They’re mostly needed to help. Also there is herring running and Archie and Duncan have gone to help their uncle in Lochgilphead with the boat because their cousins have measles.”

James sighed again, “And where is Helen McLachlan? Is she helping with the lambing or fishing?”

“Oh no sir “, replied Kirsty missing the irony “Her mother had another bairn last night and she’s needed to watch the wee ones till her mother’s well enough. But you need not fash yourself about her because that’s Mrs McLachlan’s eighth bairn and my mother says she pops them out as easy as anything. She’ll soon be back. Anyway, Nelly was going to ask you if she could leave just now and not wait till summer. You see she’s got a good place. Mrs McTaggart, the doctor’s wife in Lochgilphead, has to find someone because her girl is leaving to get married. Nelly’s been promised the place but she’ll lose it if she can’t take it up now.”

James groaned inwardly at Kirsty’s matter of fact knowledge of childbirth and decided that the complexities attending Nelly’s leaving date can wait till another day.

“I’m sure Helen can speak for herself”.

A smaller girl has her hand in the air, “Yes, Catherine“,

“Sir, my friend Elspeth Campbell is not here because she has measles. Do you think she will die?”

“I very much hope not, Catriona. You must pray very hard for her”

“I do sir, every night but it does not always work. My mother prayed all the time for my little sister Mairi and she still died. Was it because she prayed in the Gaelic? Should she have prayed in English?”

“Now Catriona, you know that it says in the scripture that God hears our prayers even before we utter them so it can’t possibly matter what language we pray in, Sometimes it is just not His will that they are answered.”

James felt that he should move on quickly before he was called upon explain how it formed part of God’s eternal plan that a feverish, thirsty three year old should die in her mother’s arms and moved around the class setting each child to work.

Of the older boys only two had attended and these formed the opposite ends of the spectrum. The first was Hamish McDonald the youngest son of the blacksmith and his wife. The village women muttered that it was because Jeannie McDonald was nearly 50 when Hamish was born that he was backward but whatever the reason the best James could do was keep him occupied. He suspected his parents sent him to school because they could not think what else to do with him. James wondered if someone had the skill to teach Hamish to concentrate enough to take useful employment and save himself from a life dependent on his brothers and sisters or the Parish. He only knew with regret that these skills were beyond him. He did not even call him by his English name, James, as he knew he would not understand.

A few desks along however sat Hugh McCallum. Hugh was working quietly drawing a flower with its component parts from a biology text-book that James had begged from a university friend who was now a master at George Watson’s College. The flower was nearly and carefully drawn and the parts conscientiously labelled; petal, sepal, stamen, stem.

James leant over the ink stained desk which bore the initials of generations of reluctant young scholars and spoke quietly to Hugh, “Well done”, he said, “Now I want you to write me two paragraphs on photosynthesis and then I will hear your Latin verbs” He automatically lowered his voice even though there were no other boys to hear and persecute Hugh for his scholarship. The girls merely thought he was an irrelevance.

At break time he could hear the children shouting to each other in the playground their language as incomprehensible as the squalling of seagulls. He knew he should beat them for speaking Gaelic but he could not find it in his heart to punish them for what came so naturally. Indeed he admired their ability to slip from one language to another.

He had been severely rebuked for this failing by the minister, a dour Glaswegian.
“Spare the rod and spoil the child. That’s what it says in Scripture.”

“I agree, Reverend, that if a child does wrong he must be punished to teach him a lesson but I can no more thrash these children for speaking their own language than I could beat an Indian child for speaking Hindoostani”

“You would do well to do so. He might learn to speak a decent Christian language.”

“That’s strange. I had always learnt that Our Lord spoke Aramaic and read the Scripture in Hebrew and that the New Testament was written in Greek”

Furious the minister turned on him “Are you doubting my scholarship young man?”

James could not resist replying “No indeed, only doubting that Christ spoke the Queen’s English”.

James knew that he was making an enemy but he was increasingly convinced that his time in the village must end. Were it not for Hugh he would feel totally defeated and even so he had to admit that defeat was almost complete. He could not stay here and he could not bring Caroline to this place.

She had laughed and begged him to take her with him when he first took the post. “I could help you,” she said “I could teach the little ones their ABCs and help the girls with their embroidery. You know I love the Highlands”

He had held her hand and urged her to be patient. As soon as he was settled and his house in order they would get married and she could come with him. He teased her that she could not set a stitch straight anyway, which she could not deny,

He knew he had been deceiving himself. Despite all his efforts the schoolhouse would never be anything other than spartan and not only was Caroline not of Highland birth she was English, born among the rolling fields of Hampshire. How did he ever think she could adapt to life as the wife of a village schoolmaster?

Caroline’s father was an army officer, posted to Edinburgh Castle. James had met her through his second brother who was a captain in the 92nd of Foot. I am a walking cliché he thought when he remembered the first time he had seen her across a drawing room. She had been laughing with a young officer, her blond curls bobbing and her blue eyes alight. James had been shocked by the shaft of pure jealousy that ran through him. Later when he had had the chance to speak to her he was confirmed in his view that she was the only woman for him.

Since her mother’s early death, Caroline, the only daughter had been her father’s darling. As a result she had the self confidence of one who never doubted that she was adored. James naturally diffident could hardly believe that she had felt the same immediate connection when they first met.

For her sake if for no other he must leave this place. He still has friends in Edinburgh and will write to every good school. One must need a junior master. His father still gave him a small allowance and soon he and Caroline would be able to marry. His conscience tells him he is needed here, but life without Caroline is unthinkable and bringing her here even more so. He tries not to imagine that his place might be taken by a brutal man more eager to punish than to impart learning.

Before he leaves there is one piece of good he can do and he is determined to do it. He sets off into the village and knocks at the door of the stone-mason’s house. Malcolm McCallum answers immediately,

“Come away in, dominie” he says

“I hope I’m not disturbing you at your tea”

“No indeed, we’re finished, Will you take a cup of tea though?”

James accepts and Malcolm motions to his wife who has been washing dishes while watching out of the corner of her eye two little girls playing with a doll by the fireside. James who has become aware that he has hardly eaten all day gratefully takes the cup of tea and scone that are pressed into his hands.

“And what can we do for you, dominie?” asks the large genial man. “Do you need some stone work done? Not a gravestone I hope”

“It’s about young Hugh” replies James.

At this Malcolm’s cheerful countenance darkens. “What’s he done the wee scunner. If it’s bad enough to bring you here I’ll skelp him so he’ll not sit down for a fortnight.”

“No, no, Hugh’s never in any trouble. Well no more than any other normal boy and certainly nothing I can’t deal with. What I want to tell you is that Hugh is really an exceptional scholar. He has understanding beyond his years. It would be such a shame to waste that potential. I believe he could get a scholarship to my old school in Edinburgh where I still have connections. I’ve been teaching him some Latin so he would only need a little tuition to catch up and he’s such a quick learner. His English is flawless and he has a great interest in the natural sciences. There would be very little cost to you”

For a moment Malcolm sits in silence as though unable to understand what he had been told. Then he speaks gently to his wife “Catriona”. For a few moments the couple talk animatedly in Gaelic. James uncomprehending and sensitive wonders if they are ensuring that he can not understand but then recalls that Catherine McCallum’s family came from the islands further north and her English is not particularly good.

Malcolm turns to him again. “Are there no such schools in Glasgow at least? My wife has brothers there who could keep an eye for him”

James looks doubtful. “Perhaps that could be managed but my connections are all in Edinburgh and I could make it easier for him there. He could surely visit his uncles in Glasgow and there are people I know who would make sure he was well looked after”

For the first time Mrs McCallum speaks in a gentle lilting voice, “I will be losing my son?”

“No, it would not be like that. Hugh would be home for holidays and he’s a good boy and will always love and respect his parents.”

Malcolm again seems at a loss. “We’d better ask the boy what he wants. Does he know anything of this?”

“No. I would not put it to him without speaking to you first.”

Malcolm nods to his wife who goes to the door and shouts into the evening air a name which sounds to James like Oosjen. Shortly Hugh rushes in followed by his two brothers and a large black dog. Despite the cold and gathering dark, they have clearly been playing in the burn. The boys are carrying their shoes and the dog shakes droplets of freezing water all over James.

Hugh spots the schoolmaster and thrusts the dog out of the door with the words “Get away, Dileas! I’m sorry sir.”

Malcolm speaks “Hugh, your master is here because he says you are very good at your books and he thinks he can find a way for you to go to a smart school in Edinburgh. What do you think of that?”

Hugh shakes his head. “I don’t understand” he says, “Go away from here? But who will help father?”

“You have two brothers, Hugh. This would be a great chance for you. You are too clever not to take your education further.”

Hugh, obviously torn, looks around at the adults for guidance.

James says, “I think you all need time to think about and discuss this. We’ll talk again soon.”

He sets off up the road to the schoolhouse where, having lit the oil lamps he forces himself to sit down to write the letters of application. He chews the end of his pen before dipping it in the ink and writing his address at the top of the paper. Then the pen seems to take a life of its own and the ink flows onto the page almost without his willing it and forms the words “My dearest Caroline….”

[HeatherH]

Anne you truely have a gift.I hope you will share many more stories with us.
HeatherK

[CatrionaL]

Hullo Anne
Although between travels, I sign in to TS, I don't immediately read your contributions.. Your tales are to be savoured not read in a rush. So this evening before heading off on yet another trip, I enjoyed an "evening with Anne" Your stories introduce us to people we hadn't met in Bob's, living different lives in a different context, but just as fascinating. Thanks for sharing them with us.

Look forward to the next installment on my return.

Catriona