As the affairs of one drunken tailor's family could not afford me
complete occupation for my leisure hours, I began to find myself
insensibly drawn by Campion's unreflecting enthusiasm into all kinds of
small duties connected with Barbara's Building. Before I could realise
that I had consented, I discovered myself in charge of an evening class
of villainous-looking and uncleanly youths who assembled in one of the
lecture-rooms to listen to my recollections of the history of England.
I was to continue the course begun by a young Oxford man, who, for some
reason or other, had migrated from Barbara's Building to Toynbee Hall.
“I've never done any schoolmastering in my life. Suppose,” said I, with
vivid recollections of my school days, “suppose they rag me?”
“They won't,” said Campion, who had come to introduce me to the class.
And they did not. I found these five and twenty youthful members of the
proletariat the most attentive, respectable, and intelligent audience
that ever listened to a lecture. Gradually I came to perceive that they
were not as villainous-looking and uncleanly as at first sight I had
imagined. A great many of them took notes. When I came to the end of
my dissertation on Henry VIII, I went among them, as I discovered the
custom to be, and chatted, answering questions, explaining difficulties,
and advising as to a course of reading. The atmosphere of trust and
friendliness compensated for the lack of material sweetness. Here were
young men pathetically eager to learn, grateful for every crumb of
information that came from my lips. They reminded me of nothing more
than the ragged class of scholars around a teacher in a mediaeval
university. Some had vague dreams of eventually presenting themselves
for examinations, the Science and Art Department, the College of
Preceptors, the Matriculation of the University of London. Others
longed for education for its own sake, or rather as a means of raising
themselves in the social scale. Others, bitten by the crude Socialism of
their class, had been persuaded to learn something of past movements
of mankind so as to obtain some basis for their opinions. All were
in deadly earnest. The magnetic attraction between teacher and taught
established itself. After one or two lectures, I looked forward to the
next with excited interest.
Other things Campion off-handedly put into my charge. I went on tours of
inspection round the houses of his competing housewives. I acted as his
deputy at the police court when ladies and gentlemen with a good record
at Barbara's got into trouble with the constabulary. I investigated
cases for the charity of the institution. In quite a short time
I realised with a gasp that I had become part of the machinery of
Barbara's Building, and was remorselessly and helplessly whirled hither
and thither with the rest of the force of the driving wheel which was
Rex Campion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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