TEACHER TRAINING AT CAMBRIDGE

The Initiatives of Oscar Browning and Elizabeth Hughes

‘We premise that we are going to say a great deal about slate pencils, primers, and spelling-books. We are aware such details must be very dull, and would be unpardonable, if they were not eminently useful.’ Edinburgh Review, October 1807 ‘Education, in its larger sense, is one of the most inexhaustible of all topics. Notwithstanding the great mass of excellent things which have been said respecting it, no thoughtful person finds any lack of things both great and small still waiting to be said, or waiting to be developed and followed out to their consequences.’ John Stuart Mill, ‘Inaugural Address to St Andrews’, 1867 Woburn Education Series General Series Editor: Professor Peter Gordon ISSN 1462-2076

For over thirty years this series on the history, development and policy of education, under the distinguished editorship of Peter Gordon, has been evolving into a comprehensive and balanced survey of important trends in teaching and educational policy. The series is intended to reflect the changing nature of education in present-day society. The books are divided into four sections—educational policy studies, educational practice, the history of education and social history—and reflect the continuing interest in this area. For a full series listing, please visit our website: www.woburnpress.com Educational Practice

Slow Learners. A Break in the The Private Schooling of Girls: Circle: Past and Present A Practical Guide for Teachers edited by Geoffrey Walford Diane Griffin International Yearbook of History Games and Simulations in Action Education, Volume 1 Alec Davison and Peter Gordon edited by Alaric Dickinson, Peter Music in Education: A Guide for Gordon, Peter Lee and John Slater Parents and Teachers A Guide to Educational Research Malcolm Carlton edited by Peter Gordon The Education of Gifted Children The English Higher Grade Schools David Hopkinson Meriel Vlaeminke Teaching and Learning Geography in British Schools Mathematics Rex Walford Peter G.Dean Dictionary of British Education Comprehending Comprehensives Peter Gordon and Denis Lawton Edward S.Conway A History of Western Educational Teaching the Humanities Ideas edited by Peter Gordon Denis Lawton and Peter Gordon Teaching Science edited by Jenny Frost TEACHER TRAINING AT CAMBRIDGE

The Initiatives of Oscar Browning and Elizabeth Hughes

PAM HIRSCH Faculty of Education and Newnham College, Cambridge MARK McBETH John Jay College of Criminal Justice, CUNY

WOBURN PRESS LONDON • PORTLAND, OR First published in 2004 in Great Britain by WOBURN PRESS Chase House, 47 Chase ide, Southgate London N14 5BP This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” and in the United States of America by WOBURN PRESS c/o ISBS 920 NE 58th Avenue, Suite 300 Portland, Oregon 97213–3786 Website: www.woburnpress.com Copyright © 2004 Pam Hirsch and Mark McBeth British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Hirsch, Pam Teacher training at Cambridge: the initiatives of Oscar Browning and Elizabeth Hughes.—(Woburn education series) 1. Browning, Oscar, 1837–1923 2. Hughes, Elizabeth 3. University of Cambridge. Faculty of Education—History 4. Teachers—Training of—England—Cambridge—History I. Title II. McBeth, Mark 370.7′11′42659

ISBN 0-203-64268-6 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-67866-4 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBN 0-7130-0234-4 (cloth) ISBN 0-7130-4054-8 (paper)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hirsch, Pam Teacher training at Cambridge: the initiatives of Oscar Browning and Elizabeth Hughes/Pam Hirsch, Mark McBeth. p. cm.—(Woburn education series, ISSN 1462–2076) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-7130-0234-4(cloth)—ISBN 0-7130-4054-8 1. Browning, Oscar, 1837–1923. 2. Hughes, Elizabeth, 1852–1925. 3. Educators—England—Cambridge—Biography. 4. Teachers—Training of—England—Cambridge—History—19th century. 5. University of Cambridge—History—19th century. I. McBeth, Mark II. Title. III. Series. LF125.H57 2003 370′.71′097444–dc21 2003053537 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher of this book. CONTENTS

Illustrations vii Acknowledgements viii Introduction (Pam Hirschand Mark McBeth) x

OSCAR BROWNING (Mark McBeth)

1 A Formal Introduction to Mr Oscar Browning 2 2 Learning Your Lessons: Impact of Student Life on his 14 Teaching 3 Educational Zeitgeist and Pedagogical Influences 28 4 Teaching at Eton: The Greatest Shuffler’ or the ‘Best of 40 Counsellors’ 5 The Prodigal Don Returns to King’s College 54 6 Cambridge University Day Training College 70

ELIZABETH HUGHES (Pam Hirsch)

7 The Underground Railway 108 8 The Making of Elizabeth Hughes 121 9 Under the University’s Beneficial Shadow 131 10 Getting Established 149 11 Elizabeth Hughes and the Catholic Students 161 12 Friends or Enemies: O.B. and Miss Hughes 173 13 Dangers and Disappointments 188 14 The Legacy of Elizabeth Hughes 197 vi

Conclusion (Pam Hirschand Mark McBeth) 212

Select Timeline 238 Bibliography 241 Index 251 ILLUSTRATIONS

1. Photograph of Oscar Browning c. 1890. 8 2. Photograph of Curzon and Browning. 45 3. ‘Mid-Term Tea at Mr Oscar Browning’s’ by Max Beerbohm. 60 4. Anonymous cartoon of Oscar Browning in a tutu. 65 5. Cambridge Day Training College May 1893; group shot of 95 Browning’s primary students; Education Archives, Cambridge University Library. 6. Cambridge Day Training College May Term 1909; group shot 96 of Browning’s primary and secondary students; Education Archives, Cambridge University Library. 7. Miss Buss and Sophie Bryant. 116 8. Crofton Cottages, Merton Street, Cambridge (c. 1920). 132 9. Miss Hughes with group photograph of first students, 1885. 136 10. Map of Cambridge from the National Union of Teachers official 156 guide to the 30th Annual Conference held at Cambridge, Easter 1899. 11. Permanent building, 1895, later to be called Hughes Hall. 157 12. Miss E.P.Hughes in The Queen: The Lady’s Newspaper, 26 158 October 1895, p. 752. 13. Decorated frontispiece of book presented to Miss Hughes by her 194 students in 1899. 14. Photograph of newly converged Faculty of Education, University 231 of Cambridge. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Like the transatlantic romance, writing a book while the two authors are on either side of the pond can be a challenge, It takes a lot of work to sustain the energies of the relationship. Although internet technology makes this sort of venture possible, it changes the dynamic of the two co-writers and the processes in which they engage. Luckily, inexpensive flights and the support of the CUNY Graduate Center—English Ph.D. Program and the City College Humanities Office (thank you Dean Watts) allowed Mark to travel frequently enough to England so that he and Pam could do close hands-on collaboration at her kitchen table and computer screen. (Mark would like to thank the friends Jane, James, Jennifer, Keith as well as the entire Hirsch family, who welcomed and accustomed him to a familiarly Anglophone yet still foreign land. He still wonders why Cholmondley is pronounced Chumley?) Sources of support for this book have been many and various. We thank Desmond Hirsch, the first friend of all Pam’s enterprises, Stephanie Hirsch, for acting as research assistant when needed, and Sophie Hirsch for feeding us and making us laugh. They often patiently endured our ongoing dinner dialogues about what we had worked on during the day and sweetened our efforts with comforting desserts. Wicked Cake really is the recipe for good scholarship. On the UK side, we have many people to thank. Dr Gillian Sutherland at Newnham College, Dr Janet Howarth at St Hilda’s, Oxford, and Dr Peter Cunningham in the Faculty of Education, University of Cambridge all showed interest in our project at an early stage. We wish to thank the President and Fellows of Hughes Hall for access to their archival material. We would also like to thank Kester Aspden at Leeds, David Thompson of Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge, Penny Hatfield at Eton, Peter Kelan at Cardiff, Margaret Osborn at Northampton Diocesan Archives, Anne Thompson at Newnham, Rosalind Moad at King’s College, Karen Morgan at North London Collegiate School, Kath Boothman at Cheltenham Ladies’ College, Dr Patrick Zutshi, Godfrey Waller and Jacky Cox of Cambridge University Library and many more. What would scholars do without those colleagues, librarians and archivists who support our endless inquiries? They are indispensable. ix

Pam would like to thank the Faculty of Education for granting her a sabbatical term’s leave, and the colleagues who relieved her of teaching for that term. She would also like to thank Delia Pluckrose and Sarah Loveday in Newnham College Tutorial Office for their stalwart support in the twenty-first century during the period of writing up her nineteenth-century research. Another thank you goes to Miyako Okahara Matsumoto of Newnham College for her most helpful translations from Japanese to English. A very personal thank you goes also to Allen Freer, a teacher who taught Pam at grammar school, who is a fine example of everything a teacher can mean to a pupil. At Woburn, we would both like to thank Professor Peter Gordon, our indefatigable editor Lisa Hyde and our patient copy editor Jenny Oates. In the United States, Mark would like to thank Sondra Perl, Eve Sedgwick, Jane Marcus and Joe Wittreich for their guidance through a doctoral dissertation out of which this project emerged. Much of this writing would have never happened without the careful critique of Carl Whithaus, Leo Parascandola, Wendy Ryden and Tim McCormack. Without the loyalty of Tim, Fred Reynolds and the CCNY Writing Center Staff, Mark could never have abandoned his post so often mid-semester to write in England. Chris Rising came to the rescue more than once, and thanks also to Naomi Azuma for her cover design assistance. People consider writing a solitary activity and it is often the case. However, little can compare to the shared exchange of ideas, the careful consideration of a colleague’s word, and the laughter and satisfaction that comes with scholarly collaboration. Mid-way through our collaboration, 11 September broke into our lives; it served to reinforce our sense that dialogue and ‘response-ability’, as promoted by Browning and Hughes, first modelled in classrooms, remain key to problem solving for the future.

We dedicate this book to teachers and to students intending to become teachers and to Jane Marcus —thank you for the shidach INTRODUCTION Pam Hirsch and Mark McBeth

Towards the end of the nineteenth century, Cambridge University was showing a lively interest in educational experiment, one involving the science and methods of the classroom and, furthermore, introducing students who normally would not have attended an elite university. We will focus on two educationists, Oscar Browning (1837–1923) and Elizabeth Hughes (1852–1925), who were the principals of the two separate teacher training colleges for men and women. The early initiatives of these two educational innovators started the development of education studies at Cambridge University and, therefore, serve as test cases to examine the relationship between teacher training and the university. Browning and Hughes were both persuasive advocates of the importance of training for teachers. The theories and practices of the classroom were still struggling to establish themselves as an academic undertaking, and the history of teacher training colleges reveals an ongoing process in the professionalization of teaching. Standard texts of the history of education have viewed classrooms and teaching from the outside, emphasizing governmental policy making and administrative structures.1 The way this top-down narrative defines education, although obviously valuable, limits its meaning and its possibilities. By contrast, in this book, we explore and create a history of education through Hughes’ and Browning’s lived experience both inside and outside the classroom. Investigating their idiosyncratic careers enables us to examine how, as educators, they formulated their perspectives on teaching and learning in the context of highly complex educational circumstances. To explore educational history in this way faithfully respects historical facts from the perspectives of those working in the college classroom. Through their letters, lectures and writing, we listen to Browning’s and Hughes’ voices in order to recover not only what they did but also what they felt. We take stock of our characters’ personal and emotional investments in their projects to reveal their passions and desires about teacher training as a way to see what it might say about education in a larger context. Browning has been famously mythologized by Virginia Woolf in A Room of Ones Own as a misogynist, a kind of scapegoat for patriarchal power xi

within Cambridge University.2 Yet this makes no allowance for his own marginal position, nor for the fact that he was willing to lecture to Newnham students on history, as well as acting as examiner of the students of the newly founded women’s colleges. His role in relation to women students at Cambridge needs more examination than it has hitherto received. In Cambridge his contribution to education in England was never recognized, for reasons which Mark McBeth will explore.3 Instead, he has been caricatured as a ridiculous figure: ‘flamboyant’, ‘ludicrous’, ‘petulant’ and ‘preposterous’; the adjectives which have most often been applied to him reveal a homophobia that has blurred and distorted any serious account of his achievements. Yet Browning’s role in establishing the Teacher Training Syndicate which would give lectures and examine the theory, history and practice of teaching and award certificates to successful candidates was the founding moment of the Faculty of Education which still exists in Cambridge today. Similarly, in examining Elizabeth Hughes’ role as an influential educationist Pam Hirsch will be drawing on some recent re- conceptualizations of the notion of educational leadership. Although women were denied the vote until the twentieth century and therefore were unable to press their cases in Parliament, education was an area of public life where many women achieved a measure of status and authority. As well as their roles in founding and running schools and colleges, these women were skilful at inserting themselves into sites of pressure on government, for example as members of the Social Science Association, and infiltrating the stratum of decision making in between government policy and the schools themselves.4 Their talent for strategic opportunism in seizing that authority in a wide variety of contexts has been demonstrated in two collections of essays: Practical Visionaries: Women, Education and Social Progress 1790–1930 edited by Mary Hilton and Pam Hirsch and Women, Educational Policy-Making and Administration in England: Authoritative Women Since 1880 edited by Joyce Goodman and Sylvia Harrop.5 Elizabeth Hughes was, like all the ‘practical visionaries’ Pam Hirsch has studied, an inspired opportunist, successful in seizing the moment. She was supremely skilful in gaining the support of those who were keen to raise the standard of girls’ education. The establishment of the university colleges for women, Girton and Newnham, which had been established in the 1870s, and the founding of the Teacher Training Syndicate by Browning was the context which made it possible to establish the Cambridge Training College for Women in 1885. An educationist is defined as someone who studies the science or method of education, or is an advocate of education. Both Browning and Hughes fit this bill exactly, and we will examine precisely how these two significant but half-forgotten educationists (separately) set about raising the professionalism and status of teachers. Both of them had the drive and xii

ability to found something, to do what no-one had done before, which takes a particular kind of courage and commitment. In this they were similar, yet the historical accounts thus far have alleged that there was no ‘cordiality’ between these two remarkable educationists.6 In this book we test that assumption and indicate both areas where they cooperated and also areas where they did not see eye to eye. We hope in some sense to ‘replay’ the arguments—indicating the shared objectives, but also their differences and divergences. Given their very different personal styles, together with disagreement on some substantive issues, we think that our two writing Voices’ will make this textually apparent. In other words, methodologically, the two writers are not aiming to force the other into agreement, in order to achieve closure, but to leave the text, as it were, open. Inevitably we will explore class and gender issues; for example, what was their commitment to and relationship with working-class students? Hughes, for example used to teach evening classes for working men in east Cambridge and this form of philanthropy has been categorized by feminist historians as a mode of women’s ‘welfare liberalism’. Browning’s relationship with working-class men, however, has always been viewed as problematic. Questions of intimacy between teacher and students have been inflected differently by historians along gender lines. Whereas Hughes’ close relationships with her students have been figured as an unthreatening ‘fantasy of study, privacy, purity and unconditional mother- love’, Browning’s relationships with his students have always come under suspicion.7 Overall, our desire, as researchers, is to take nothing for granted, but rather to unpack primary sources critically in order to arrive at an appropriately nuanced double history. As the early initiatives of these two leaders began the development of education studies at Cambridge University they, therefore, usefully serve as test cases to examine the relationship between teacher training and the university. Their early training programmes foreshadowed the work of the present-day Faculty of Education, so, concomitantly, our exploration of these Victorian educational experiments uncovers the unstable relationship between teacher trainers, the university, and the government of the day. By revisiting the educational perspectives of these two remarkable innovators and recreating their dialogues we reveal important, and often controversial, ideas about the purposes of education. Furthermore, we contend that studies of ideological struggles of the past are as pertinent to educational problems of the twenty-first century as they were in the times of Browning and Hughes.

HISTORICAL CONTEXT The narrative of the British educational system is a complex story because it did not develop as an integrated system. Instead, educational initiatives xiii

were driven by a variety of religious, socioeconomic and political forces. Below, we sketch out a brief and selective (conventional) survey of nineteenth-century British educational history which focuses on those educational developments and policies pertinent to teacher training. Much of this will be familiar to those interested in the history of teacher education, so some readers may want to move straight to the sections on Browning and Hughes. For others, the historical context may help to place the initiatives of our protagonists more precisely. In 1807 the Whig journal, the Edinburgh Review, stated, ‘How far it may be expedient to provide nationally for the education of the poor, against the prejudices of the upper classes, and without any cordial wish to that purpose on the part of the poor themselves, is doubtful—if it be possible.’8 In the early nineteenth century British education was seen as being primarily the responsibility of churches and parents, rather than that of the state. However, for a variety of social and economic reasons, public opinion and perspectives about national education would shift considerably throughout the nineteenth century. In incremental stages, education was transformed from piecemeal enterprises largely run by voluntary bodies to a more integrated conglomerate where the state played a more significant part. Because Great Britain eventually developed a more governmentally regulated educational system for all members of its society, it also needed an organized teacher training programme. This historical survey of British educational initiatives shows first how the nation established a popular educational system and then how this in turn affected the need for teacher training. From a present viewpoint, it may be difficult to imagine opposition to an inclusive national education system, yet in the early 1800s schooling for the working classes was still a contested issue. In the November 1810 issue of the Edinburgh Review, an anonymous reviewer, probably Henry Brougham, discussed public opinion regarding popular education. He wrote:

The subject now before us, the extension of popular education, gives rise to two distinct questions. It has unhappily been contended by some persons, that no good can result from promoting the instruction of the bulk of the community. They have even pretended to foresee a variety of evils as likely to originate in the greater diffusion of knowledge; and, combining with their fanciful anticipations of danger, views of past events just as fanciful, have not scrupled to raise apprehensions of anarchy, tumult and revolution, from the progress of information among the people.9

Throughout Brougham’s long life (1778–1868), he led progressive Whig groups, interested in aspects of popular education, whereas Conservatives convinced themselves that educating the masses would only make them xiv

dissatisfied with their stations in life.10 Brougham contended that if the education of the poor were to be neglected ‘Ignorance-as-Bliss’ could only harm their personal welfare and impede the social and economic progress of England. In 1816 and 1818 Royal Commissions were appointed to investigate The Education of the Lower Order in the Metropolis’. The 1816 Committee reported that they ‘found reason to conclude, that a very large number of poor children are wholly without the means of Instruction, although their parents appear to be generally very desirous of obtaining that advantage for them’.11 This early committee, led by Brougham, collected evidence from educational experts involved with the two large voluntary providers of elementary education, the National Society for Promoting the Education of the Poor in the Principles of the Established Church (National Society) and the British and Foreign Schools, run by Nonconformists. Both of these philanthropic Anglican and Nonconformist societies used the monitorial system pioneered by Reverend Andrew Bell (an Anglican) and Joseph Lancaster (a Nonconformist). This system was cheap because the societies only had to pay the wages of a single elementary teacher who conveyed information to a selected group of able pupils. These monitors then reiterated the lesson to their less able peers.12 Middle-class opinion was predominately in favour of the monitorial system; an 1807 Edinburgh Review article praised its thrifty teaching methods, saying:

The improvements which Mr. Lancaster has made in education, are, in the cheapness of schools, their activity, their order, and their emulation. The reading, ciphering, and spelling cards, suspended for the successive use of 3 or 400 boys; the employment of sand and slate instead of pen and ink, and particularly of monitors instead of ushers, must, in large seminaries, constitute an immense saving.13

The system was, undeniably, cost-effective and offered poor children some form of teaching, but the rigidly ranked hundreds of children were locked into a factory-like system with only one teacher and the chosen pupils their own age to guide them. The teacher mechanically transmitted information to the untrained monitors who then passed it on to other pupils. The article continued, ‘The extraordinary discipline, progress, and economy of this [Lancaster] school, are, therefore, in a great measure, produced by an extraordinary number of non-commissioned officers [monitors], serving without pay, and learning while they teach.’14 With neither experience, maturity, nor training, monitors could be only minimally effective as instructors, regardless of how inexpensive. When the Brougham Committee reconvened in 1818 to review the progress made in education, it advised that parish schools be subsidized by industry and maintained by rates. However, because the plan gave xv

Anglican clergy a predominant position in the educational scheme, both dissenters and Roman Catholics opposed it. Until the end of the nineteenth century, the complex connections between religious affiliation and schooling would remain a central conundrum for British educational provision. Although the recommendations of the Brougham Committee never became law, they nevertheless kick-started a debate about the financial sources of education. As Brougham had written between 1818 and the early 1830s, large numbers of ‘poor children [remained] wholly without the means of Instruction’, and it was not until the Reform Act of 1832 had enfranchised middle-class men that educational reform would again be attempted.15 The industrialists creating the country’s wealth were powerful promoters of the first reform bill. Mill and factory owners who wanted a stable workforce tended to be interested in the education of their workers’ children (even if their motives were self-serving).16 These middle-class industrialists were anxious because studies comparing British education with continental education illustrated how far the British system lagged behind, and those MPs familiar with manufacturing industries recognized that educational systems impacted on the prosperity of nations. In 1833, John Roebuck, following the initiatives of Brougham, introduced a Bill of Education, appealing for ‘the universal and national education of the whole people’.17 Roebuck’s radical bill, outlining an ambitious state education system, was rigorously debated in Parliament but did not succeed. However, a month later a grant of £20,000 was approved to aid the National Society and the British and Foreign School Society to build schools, and so became the first large governmental expenditure on education. The parliamentary debate about this proposed bill had revealed that voluntaryism had failed to solve the problems of elementary education, and this government grant marked a shift in the balance between philanthropic initiatives and state intervention. Further, the Roebuck debate highlighted the need for the training of teachers and Lord Brougham advocated a plan for teacher training schools.18 In support of these ‘Normal Schools’, Parliament voted for a £10,000 grant to be divided between the two major voluntary societies. With these capital grants and the additional funding for teacher training, the seeds of a national universal education system were sown. However, during this 30-year period no significant legislation for elementary education occurred. According to Dent in his account of The Educational System of England and Wales:

The story of elementary education in England and Wales between 1833 and 1870 is not one to be proud of; its most pleasing features are the enlightened work of the early inspectors, and the undoubted heroism of many teachers, who, with the most meagre resources and almost complete lack of public support, tamed and taught great xvi

hordes of children who otherwise would have grown up half-savage and illiterate.19

Yet during this period, there were some major reforms of child labour laws which would subsequently shape educational measures. In 1833 Lord Ashley, better known as the Earl of Shaftesbury, led a commission to investigate the treatment of children in industry.20 The Factory Act of 1833 reduced children’s work hours as well as limited the minimum age at which they could be employed.21 As these industrial regulations were legislated, the possibility of compulsion could be considered, but legally enforced school attendance would not happen for another four decades. In 1843 the Factory Act was revised under the leadership of Home Secretary, Sir James Graham.22 Inspectors reported that the previous legislation was being ignored and, after their evidence was submitted, even more stringent restrictions were put in place. Age limits were revised so children under the age of 8 could not work at all, those aged between 8 and 13 could work no more than six and a half hours per day, and those older than 13 no more than 12 hours a day.23 All children under the age of 13 were obliged to attend three hours of school per day. The implications of this bill were that both employers and parents would be legally responsible for the attendance of children at school. Although MPs agreed to the proposed limits of child labour, predictably, disagreements arose about the mechanisms for school management because of denominational differences. The plan was that new schools should be built through government loans but maintained through the local poor- rate. Nonconformists objected that while everyone in the parish would be required to help maintain these new schools, the local Anglican vicar would have overall control.24 As a result, the first version of the Graham Factory bill was defeated but, when the revised (albeit diluted) Act was passed in 1844, the proposed state aid for the provision of schools had been entirely abandoned. Curtis in his History of Education in Great Britain argues that this was the most serious setback that elementary education had suffered so far.25 Prior to 1839, educational policy was under the jurisdiction of the general Parliament but, in that year, Lord John Russell announced that a Select Committee of the Privy Council would be appointed to oversee any parliamentary expenditure made to promote public education. The vote to establish this committee was upheld by a majority of only five votes because Anglican clergy felt that their right to control education was again being usurped. By appointing this committee, Parliament assumed a national responsibility for elementary schooling and initiated the first centralized government agency for education. When, in 1856, the Select Committee of the Privy Council was raised to the status of Education Department, the role of government was forever tied to the politics of xvii

education. As Curtis confirms, Thus the progress of education became definitely linked with politics, and on many occasions the tendency has been to regard education from the point of view of the policy of the party in power rather than from its relation to the children of the country.’26 In 1839, Sir James Kay-Shuttleworth, a supporter of education for the poor, was appointed Secretary of the Select Committee and remained active in that office until 1849.27 In 1846, in an effort to improve elementary education by raising teaching quality, Kay-Shuttleworth introduced the pupil-teacher system which was common on the continent.28 The pupil- teacher system improved upon the monitorial system, because those same able 13–14-year old pupils were now apprenticed to be teachers. For five years, pupil-teachers taught groups of 25 pupils and received academic instruction from the headteacher after school hours. In this new system, headteachers actively trained their apprentices in the skills of teaching, rather than merely using them to transmit information. Both pupil and headteacher would be remunerated by the state for teaching work.29 This system was principally attractive to working-class pupils attending elementary schools because it offered an educational and professional opportunity that bad previously been unavailable. By the late 1880s and 1890s pupil-teacher centres had been established across the country to offer pupil-teachers more systematic and organized courses of academic and professional instruction.30 The pupil-teacher system improved the quality of teaching, and it was by means of this system that the majority of elementary teachers were trained until 1902.31 But it had its limitations, as the pupil-teachers had to teach as apprentices all day and pursue their own ‘secondary’ education at night. Even then, Conservative opinion held that the elementary teachers were being over- educated for their task.32 Nevertheless, under Kay-Shuttleworth’s plan, those interested in education could assume teaching positions as professionals; teaching could be respected as a lifetime career. Kay- Shuttleworth’s lead was followed by the Church of England, which had opened 22 training colleges by 1845. Key pieces of the jigsaw of a burgeoning education system were being put in place. The Newcastle Commission was set up in 1858, two years after the creation of the Education Department as the administrative instrument of the Committee of Council, and it undertook the first comprehensive survey of English elementary education.33 This commission recognized that the new department was bound to pursue a policy of extending ‘a sound and cheap elementary instruction to all classes of people’.34 The report commented on the shortcomings of teachers in the period, even those who were qualified:

Whilst it appears to be proved that the character of the teachers is greatly raised by their training, and that they are altogether a superior class to those who preceded them, it is equally clear that they fail, to xviii

a considerable extent, in some of the most important of the duties of elementary teachers, and that a large proportion of the children are not satisfactorily taught that which they come to school to lear… Other complaints are that the trained teachers are conceited and dissatisfied. The first we do not believe to be true of the class, the second we admit to a certain degree, and account for it by remarking, amongst other causes, that their emoluments, though not too low, rise too soon to their highest level.35

The Newcastle Report acknowledged that the pupil-teacher system had ameliorated the quality of teaching, but that elementary teachers varied widely in quality. They started to consider whether salary arrangements could be used as a mechanism for raising teaching standards. Following this report, the Vice-President of the Council and Head of the Education Department, Robert Lowe, introduced the Revised Code of 1862, whereby government grants to elementary schools were based principally upon pupils’ performances in an annual examination in reading, writing and arithmetic, a system usually referred to as ‘payment by results’. The Revised Code abolished salaries paid directly to elementary teachers and, instead, paid a single grant to the school managers, who then would allocate wages based on their judgement of teaching performance. This meant that grants could be allocated to schools taught largely by untrained teachers because they would be cheaper than trained teachers and therefore might seem a better business proposition for the managers. Lowe told Parliament,

I cannot promise the House that this system will be an economical one, and I cannot promise that it will be an efficient one, but I can promise that it shall be one or the other. If it is not cheap, it shall be efficient; if it is not efficient it shall be cheap…have the greatest hopes of the improved prospects of education, if this principle is sanctioned.36

Lowe seems more interested in cost than quality; a further example would be that there were no more grants for building or improving training colleges. This assault on the teaching profession, via the ‘payments by results’ system, continued, with modifications, for some 35 years. In practice it meant that teachers’ salaries were largely determined by their success in cramming pupils for the annual inspector’s examination.37 As ex-pupil-teachers of ability were likely to do just as well for themselves without college training, the effect of the Revised Code on the teaching colleges was a marked decrease in their applicants and entrants.38 During this period, if teachers with less training could successfully teach to the test, they were still considered by inspectors and administrators as qualified for their positions. In effect, Kay-Shuttleworth found himself xix

looking at the destruction of 25 years of progressive ideas about education. He stated:

The whole system of public aid has been shaken to its very centre and the Managers of Schools have been discouraged—he emoluments of the teachers have been lessened, and his hopes disappointed. Pupil teachers are therefore scarce, and are easily attracted to other employment. Their education is not well cared for, because it has ceased to be the interest of the principal teacher; their qualifications at the end of their five years’ engagement are much lower than formerly.39

Under the demoralized teaching conditions created by Lowe’s plan, taxpayers could have had their rates reduced, and teachers instructing to the tests could have had their salaries increased, but pupils received neither better schools nor more pedagogically sound teachers. Pupils were subjected once again to a more rote/mechanical means of teaching which drilled them in the techniques of test-taking.40 As we have seen, throughout the nineteenth century, teacher training arrangements were closely tied to social class divisions. Working-class children went to elementary schools, where they would be taught by a schoolteacher who was most likely to be an upper-working-class or lower- middle-class person, largely trained in the classroom himself. Up to this point, we have surveyed elementary education; now, however, we turn to secondary education and its teachers. We need to remind ourselves that only middle-class students went to secondary schools and that in them genders were separated not only among the students but also among the teachers: men taught boys and women taught girls almost exclusively. The reason that secondary teacher training is divided sharply by gender is because men who had a university education needed no more training to get a job as a secondary teacher. A university degree was sufficient. Women were still constrained by the limited opportunities of higher education overall. Many new secondary schools for boys were established in the 1840s, copying the style of the ancient public schools. The problem with using the public schools as models was that the curriculum (strictly Latin, Greek and mathematics) served as a rite of passage for ‘gentlemen’; it was not much use for sons of manufacturers, tradesmen and industrialists.41 As Crouzet writes,

Rich industrialists had sent their sons to public schools early in the industrial revolution, but the influx of third-generation boys only became a torrent after 1850. A growing number of men…passed through these establishments, in order to improve their social status by obtaining a passport to the ‘gentleman’s club’.42 xx

As a result of this mindset and the tendency of secondary schools to ape the outdated educational traditions of public schools, secondary education for boys stagnated. With the exception of some very good Nonconformist secondary schools, the standards were variable at best, and often very poor indeed.43 Boys’ secondary schools needed trained and qualified masters; such masters scarcely existed as there were no respected training programmes for them.44 Women, on the other hand, for whom there was no university education, had every motivation to acquire what training they could, wherever they could get it.45 In 1848 the Anglican Queen’s College and in 1849 the non-denominational Bedford College were set up to provide training so that governesses could get better salaries. Bedford College developed a full-time teacher training course which helped create a new sense of professional identity for women teachers.46 Unusually, in 1849, the College of Preceptors, which had started off in 1846 with a separate Ladies’ Department, integrated women into the student body. One of the pioneers of education for girls and women, Frances Buss (1827–94), was the first woman to serve on its governing body.47 There was some opposition to the election of a woman but she was strongly supported by Joseph Payne, a stalwart supporter of the education of girls and women.48 Buss briefly contemplated setting up her own day training college for women secondary teachers, before offering financial and moral support to the Cambridge Training College for Women. Because a teaching career was one of the few occupations in which middle-class women could find work, women’s teacher training colleges provided an entrance to further educa tion and to the workforce which otherwise would not have existed.49 For middle-class men interested in becoming teachers, religion was an important factor. Before 1871, only Anglicans could graduate with Oxbridge degrees, and no one considered that these men needed any teacher training because of their university status. The majority of these men came from the old elite public schools who generated their teaching staffs from their own alumni.50 For non-Anglican men unable to graduate from Oxbridge universities (as well as for women teachers) the college of Preceptors was vitally important. Started by a group of Brighton school- masters, non-graduate dissenting laymen, the college held lectures on educational matters, and, from 1847 onwards its journal, the Educational Times, promoted the importance of producing competent and responsible teachers for the children of the middle classes. The first of its four resolu- tions stated that they deemed it ‘desirable for the protection of the interests both of the scholastic profession and the public, that some proof of qualification, both as to the amount of knowledge and the art of conveying it to others, should be required’.51 By applying for a Royal Charter in 1847, the college aimed to provide an officially recognized professional qualification which might become equal to the status of a degree from the ancient universities. However, its failure to enforce a xxi

universally accepted test of competence meant that this goal was never reached. Although its examinations were not generally respected, and indeed it could have been more accurately described as an examining body rather than a college, the College of Preceptors nevertheless had a pioneering role because it effectively created the academic subject of the Theory and Practice of Education. In 1871 it made Joseph Payne (1808– 76) a Professor of Education, thus establishing the first Professorship of its kind. Payne forcefully argued that the college’s ‘primary responsibility [should be] to make teachers into scholars and scholars into teachers’.52 According to R.W. Rich, the College of Preceptors introduced ‘a principle diametrically opposed to that holding in the State-aided elementary schools. Teachers themselves were to be responsible for maintaining the standard of their profession… In other words what was envisaged was a kind of Teachers’ University.’53 The Taunton Commission Report, published in 1868, surveyed the state of education in Britain with the exception of public schools and working- class education, as public schools had recently been scrutinized in the Clarendon Report and working-class education in the Newcastle Report. For the Taunton Report, over 800 middle-class schools were inspected and evidence collected to fill 20 large volumes of socio-educational information, the largest inquiry ever conducted in the history of the country. The Commission regarded its brief as finding out ‘whether the results produced [by endowed schools] are commensurate with the means’, claiming that the ‘public has the right to see that they are doing good, and not harm’.54 By raising public awareness about education, the British people, namely children’s parents, became more concerned with the quality of schools, teachers and classrooms. To the advantage of middle-class education, secondary schools from this point would need to make clear what they could offer. The Taunton Commission reported that the unsatisfactory work of schools was caused by ‘untrained teachers, and bad methods of teaching, uninspected work by workmen without adequate motive, unrevised or ill- revised statutes, and the complete absence of organization of schools in relation to one another’.55 In other words, it decided that a middle-class school system needed to be reorganized to offer sound lessons by qualified teachers, regulated by supportive and reliable policies. The Taunton Commission therefore devised a system in which schools were given status based on the class of students which would attend them. The middle class had expanded during the course of the nineteenth century and the effect of the Taunton Commission was to tier the secondary schools correspondingly into what sociologists would call upper-middle-, middle- middle’ and lower-middle-class schools.56 The highest grade, schools teaching a combination of the Classics and modern studies, would prepare students for university. The second grade of school for students up to 16 years of age would prepare students for professional careers in the military, xxii

medical and legal professions, in the civil service and in business. The curricula of these children of mercantile and trading classes would include English literature, political economy, mathematics and science with some Latin but never Greek. Without the Greek their opportunities to attend university were limited so, for the most part, their schooling would prescribe what professional choices were available to them. The third grade of school for lower-middle and skilled working-class boys to age 14 would teach them Latin or modern languages, English, history, elementary mathematics, geography, and science.57 This curriculum prepared them to be clerks rather than manual labourers. Not only were students categorized by social class, but the perceived social standing of the teacher would also indicate which group of students they were quali-fied (and perhaps permitted) to teach.58 In other words, the system devised by the Taunton Commission would formalize the types of teachers who would be hired to teach at the different grades of schools. In 1868, W.E. Forster, who differed greatly from his predecessor Lowe, was appointed Vice-President of the Education Department.58 Lowe had been primarily an administrator and a politician, who had never claimed to be an educationist. Indeed, when a government inspector went to consult him, Lowe said, ‘I know what you’ve come about, the science of education. There is none. Good morning.’60 Forster, on the other hand, had long been familiar with progressive philosophies about education, knowing many of the major contemporaneous champions of popular education.61 His presence altered the zeitgeist of how educational policies would be handled. In 1870, when Forster submitted the Elementary Education bill, he summed up its goals, stating, ‘What is our purpose in this Bill? Briefly this, to bring elementary education within the reach of every English home, aye, and within the reach of those children who have no homes.’62 Forster’s main ambition was to achieve a minimum of compulsory elementary education for children aged between 5 and 13. The 1870 Education Act provided for school boards to be set up to fill the gaps in the existing system of voluntary schools.63 They were empowered to establish elementary schools, although not empowered to open teacher training colleges. The Act did however succeed in solving the conundrum of the religious issue. The Cowper-Temple clause laid down that in schools ‘hereafter established by means of local rate, no catechism or religious formulary which is distinctive to any particular denomination shall be taught’, and the right of withdrawal from religious instruction on grounds of conscience in all public elementary schools, including those run by the churches, was guaranteed.64 This Act meant that more children were in school, which greatly increased the need for teachers and as a result training colleges started to fill again.65 Also during 1870, the National Union of Teachers (NUT), mostly comprised of elementary and secondary teachers, was formed. The formation of such unions showed a new attitude amongst teachers who xxiii

recognized themselves as not only a professional assembly, but also a political force. As an educated contingent with a growing respect in the public sphere and roots in the working and middle classes, they were a group with whom to be reckoned, with more force to lobby Parliament or exert pressure on the Department of Education.66 As members of professional unions, teachers could share their ideas in conferences, form coalitions, and act as advocates on how educational policies should be shaped. On the surface, the Education Act of 1870 appears to institute universal free compulsory elementary education, but it would be nearly another decade before general compulsion was instituted and even longer for free schooling.67 It was the final two decades of the nineteenth century when a national system of education was established and, as a result, the population of children attending school increased enormously, even though it had been growing steadily for many years. In 1886, The Royal Commission ‘to enquire into the working of the elementary Education Acts’ was set up, chaired by Lord Cross.68 The members were divided as the Majority report continued to support the pupil-teacher system, but the Minority report was ‘severely critical of it’.69 The critics of the pupil- teacher centres supported the idea of training colleges, apparently seeing these as providing the possibility of more ‘cultured’ teachers, rather than teaching ‘hacks’.70 It was suggested that training should be extended to a third year, or even longer:

We think that there is much to be said for a more extended course of training. As is the master, such is the school, and our elementary teacher would be very different if their training were more thorough, and extended over a longer period, for it is not more knowledge that they need, but more penetration of their minds by that knowledge. In all good education, time is an essential element, and the same knowledge if learnt slowly is generally worth far more than if learnt quickly. Moreover, it would kindle a new spirit in the teacher if the history of education were more studied than it is; the teachers of the present day do not know enough of what has been done by the great teachers of past times, and they would learn much of the science of their profession by a study of its history.71

In advising a more extended programme for teachers, the Cross Report suggests that teaching could be considered a more rigorous academic discipline. The Cross Report did not, however, think it appropriate that the culture of elementary teachers should become overly elevated:

It has been suggested that if students were allowed a third year of training, to be spent at Oxford or Cambridge, the benefit would be xxiv

considerable in completing their equipment for the best class of service in their profession. To any such suggestion the objections seem to us, under existing circumstances, to be very great… Such students would be unsettled and unfitted, rather than prepared for their work as public elementary teachers, and this proposal therefore seems to us to be inapplicable to those who are to become teachers in elementary schools. We are, on the whole, of opinion that an additional year of training would be a great advantage for some students, and only hesitate to recommend it from doubt whether it is as yet feasible. But, at any rate, we think that picked students from training colleges might even now with advantage be grouped at convenient centres, for a third year’s course of instruction.72

Some critics of the Oxbridge association feared that the cultural gains that these students would acquire at the university would overqualify them for elementary teaching. A three-year training course was originally provided for by the rules of the Education Department, but so few students were found able or willing to prolong their college life, for whom, nevertheless, extra teaching staff had to be provided, that training was limited to two years. Overall the Cross Commission posed a number of ideas which would open educational opportunities for a larger variety of people. They advised that women should be admitted as inspectors of elementary schoolteachers, and that liberal curricula of science and technical instruc-tion should be introduced and funded. They suggested that children should not be allowed to leave school until the age of 14. Its criticism of ‘payment by results’ would eventually lead to the abolition of this system. Evening schools were also supported which allowed for those older students until the age of 21 to gain the literacy and numeracy skills that they lacked. The Cross Commission laid the foundation of policies upon which a universal compulsory free education could be built and offered to British citizens. As we have seen, the training of teachers for secondary schools developed later than in the field of elementary education. Sir James Kay- Shuttleworth, who had done much to foster the training of elementary teachers, was once more in the vanguard of those pushing for some provision for the training of secondary teachers. In 1875 he called a conference in his own London home for heads of public schools, principals of metropolitan training colleges and some inspectors. In 1877 memorials were sent to influential members of the universities of Oxford and Cambridge asking for their involvement. A scheme was put before Oxford Hebdomadal council in April 1878 suggesting the institution of a training department under a professor or lecturer. An Oxford committee was set up to consider the matter but when its report was presented it lost by a small majority. By contrast, Cambridge responded in 1879 by xxv

establishing the Teachers’ Training Syndicate, under the secretaryship of Oscar Browning to conduct examinations for student-teachers all over the country to train a professional corps of teachers. Many of the people involved in the Syndicate would later encourage the founding of training colleges in Cambridge. In 1894, the Bryce Commission questioned the efficiency of the Education Department and suggested instituting a Minister of Education. As a central authority for education reporting to Parliament, the appointment of the Minister would make it plain that elementary education could not be dealt with separately from secondary education.73 However, two decades later, Mr (later Sir) Robert Morant, after studying the Cross Report and Bryce Report as well as reviewing foreign educational systems, insisted that the bureaucracy of the British system needed to be reorganized. In 1902, he proposed a bill that created local education authorities delegated to co-ordinate elementary and higher education, or what was described at the time as ‘the ladder from the elementary school to the university’.74 Scholarships were set up for promising elementary students and pupils in denominational schools, who were ensured an education comparable to that provided by local authority schools. Moreover, provisions were made for moderately priced county secondary schools which more parents could afford. The Balfour-Morant bill also made important developments in evening and technical schools. Eventually it replaced the pupil-teacher system with certificated teachers from teacher training colleges.75 This Act also designates an end to the educational history that is relevant to the story we want to tell about the men’s and women’s training colleges at Cambridge. By this time both colleges had become firmly established and had made an impact upon the educational life at the university.

NOTES

1. In particular, focusing on policy-making at parliamentary level, leaves out women’s contributions as they were disenfranchised. Mary Hilton and Pam Hirsch (eds), Practical Visionaries: Women, Education and Social Progress 1790–1930 (Harlow, Pearson Education, 2000) is one recent attempt to write the women’s leadership roles as educationists back into the story. 2. See Mark McBeth’s critique in ‘Virginia’s Poppycock: Revising Oscar Browning’, an unpublished paper given at the conference Inroads and Outposts, At Home & Abroad in the Empire: British Women in the Thirties (15 September 2000) City University of New York Graduate Center, NYC. 3. He was, however, decorated by the French government for his work in education, named Officier de l’Instruction Publique and Officier de l’Académie Française. 4. For example, by reporting to Royal Commissions, by serving on them and by serving at local government level on Education Boards. See Jane Martin, Women and the Politics of Schooling in Victorian and Edwardian England (Leicester, Leicester University Press, 1999). xxvi

5. Hilton and Hirsch (eds), Practical Visionaries; Joyce Goodman and Sylvia Harrop (eds), Women, Educational Policy-Making and Administration in England: Authoritative Women Since 1880 (London, Routledge, 2000). 6. Margaret Bottrall, Hughes Hall 1885–1985 (Cambridge, Rutherford Publications, 1985), p. 10. 7. J.Marcus, Virginia Woolf, Cambridge and a Room of One’s Own: ‘The Proper Upkeep of Names’ (London, Cecil Woolf, 1996), p.8. 8. ‘Lancaster’s Improvements in Education’, Edinburgh Review 11 (October 1807), p. 71. The Edinburgh Review was founded in 1802 by Sydney Smith and Brougham, as a Whig quarterly. It set the standard for much of the serious periodical journalism of the nineteenth century. It had circulation figures of about 60,000. See Alan Bell, Sydney Smith: A Biography (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1982), pp. 36–7. 9. ‘Education of the Poor’, Edinburgh Review 17 (November 1810), p. 59. 10. He was founder of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge (SDUK) which issued sixpenny fortnightly numbers on the sciences and the useful arts. They also issued the Penny Magazine and Penny Encyclopedia, A committee checked the material to screen out doctrinal religious matter. They were designed as ‘elementary’ texts, so that they could be understood by all classes of the community, especially people who could not ‘avail themselves of experienced teachers’. Brougham assisted in founding Mechanics’ Institutes. SDUK publications went into the Mechanics’ Institutes where they could be read by many working people. He also founded the Infant School Society which studied and copied Robert Owen’s experimental infant school for children too young to go into factories at New Lanark. Owen was a mill- owner who established a school which benefited himself as well as his workers. It kept the children safe while their mothers worked and thus helped to keep a stable workforce. Not surprisingly, there was some overlap between the members of the Infant Society and the members of the Abolition of Slavery Association. See W.B.C. Stewart and W.P.McCann, The Educational Innovators 1750–1880 (London, Macmillan, 1967), chapter 4. And Pam Hirsch, Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon: Feminist, Artist and Rebel (London, Chatto & Windus, 1998), pp. 6–7. 11. Brougham Report 1816, p. 498. 12. Probably the most famous literary example of this form of teaching is given in Charles Dickens’ Hard Times (1854); the teacher is satirically named ‘Mr M’ Choakumchild’. See also Mary Sturt, The Education of the People: A History of Primary Education in England and Wales in the Nineteenth Century (London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1967). 13. Edinburgh Review 1807, Vol. 11, p. 65. 14. Edinburgh Review 1807, Vol. 11, p. 66. 15. Brougham Report 1816, p. 498. 16. Those who were enfranchised for the first time in 1832 were overwhelmingly small property owners; about one in five adult men were allowed to vote in England and Wales compared with just one in ten before. Working-class men did not get the vote until the Second Reform Act, so largely had to rely on xxvii

their ‘masters’ to push for educational initiatives on their behalf. Women did not get the vote until the twentieth century. 17. B.Simon, Studies in the History of Education (London, Lawrence & Wishart, 1960), p. 164. 18. S.J.Curtis, History of Education in Great Britain (London, University Tutorial Press, 1967), p. 230. Only the model schools of the National Society and the British and Foreign School Society existed for training. Lord Brougham advocated for other training schools to be built across the country in major cities. The £10,000 grant actually forced the Societies to raise further sums through subscriptions so that these projects could be realized. 19. H.C.Dent, The Educational System of England and Wales (London, University of London Press, 1971), p. 20. 20. Sir Llewellyn Woodward, The Age of Reform (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1938), p. 151. Lord Ashley, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury (1801–85). In terms of education, Shaftesbury supported social reform and was chairman of the Ragged School Union for 39 years. 21. Curtis, History of Education, p. 229. The Act distinguished between ‘young persons’ between 13 and 18 years of age, who should not work more than 69 hours a week; and those under 9, who were not to be employed. This Act allowed children up to the age of 9 to attend day schools, if their parents so desired, and those aged between 9 and 13 were obliged to attend two hours every week. Their schooling was documented and proof had to be submitted weekly to their employers before they could be hired. Four salaried inspectors were made responsible to monitor the schools and assure that these laws were being enforced. 22. Woodward, The Age of Reform, p. 273 n. 1. Sir James Graham (1792–1861) Home Secretary from 1841–46. 23. Curtis, History of Education, p. 240. 24. Ibid., pp. 240–1. Graham suggested amendments as a negotiation to both the Anglicans and the Nonconformists but neither side was willing to concede. In response dissenters opened up schools independent of state aid, including a teacher training college at Homerton, London in 1846. This college moved to Cambridge in 1894 and was destined to converge with the Faculty of Education of the University of Cambridge in 2001. 25. Curtis, History of Education, p. 241. 26. Ibid., p. 248. 27. Richard Aldrich and Peter Gordon (eds), Dictionary of British Educationists (London, Woburn Press, 1989), p. 138. Kay-Shuttleworth (1804–77) Pioneer of English popular education. Kay-Shuttleworth’s experience as a physician of the poor in Manchester heavily influenced his opinion on social issues; he felt that education could help the poverty-stricken out of their squalor. Appointed the first Secretary of the new Committee of the Privy Council on Education (1839–49). In 1839–40 the training college at Battersea opened for elementary schoolteachers and, although it failed financially, became the model for training colleges of its day. xxviii

28. R.J.W.Selleck, The New Education: The English Background 1870–1914 (London, Pitman, 1978), p. 13. 29. See Curtis, History of Education, pp. 242–3. During their apprenticeship pupil- teachers received an annual salary beginning at £10 and accruing to £20. After finishing their apprenticeship they went up for the Queen’s Scholarship Examination and if they passed their £20 or £25 exhibition paid for their training college. Those who passed the three-year training school began their educational careers and were to receive proficiency grants as well as old-age pensions for those in 15 years of service. 30. See Wendy Robinson, ‘Women and Pupil-Teacher Centres 1880–1914’ in Goodman and Harrop (eds), Women, Educational Policy-Making, pp. 99– 115. 31. R.Johnson, ‘Educational Policy and Social Control in Early Victorian England’, Past and Present 49 (1970), pp. 96–119. 32. Selleck, The New Education, p. 13. 33. Chaired by Henry Pelham Fiennes Pelham Clinton, 5th Duke of Newcastle (1811–64), MP for South Notts (1832–46) and Falkirk Burghs from 1846 until he succeeded to the Dukedom in 1851. 34. Quoted in J.Stuart Maclure (ed.), Educational Documents: England and Wales 1816–1963 (London, Chapman & Hall, 1965), p. 70; Curtis, History of Education, p. 249. 35. Newcastle Report, chapter 2, pp. 168–9. Lowe rejected its major conclusion that county boards (local authority) should be established for elementary education. 36. Simon, A Life in Education, p. 349. 37. Robert Lowe, 1st Viscount Sherbrooke (1811–92), lawyer and politician, who seems to have been the Chris Woodhead (Chief Inspector of Schools) of his day. ‘An albino, with very poor eyesight, Lowe was a combative figure, a master of epigram and sarcasm.’ See Aldrich and Gordon (eds), Dictionary of British Educationists, pp. 152–3. Indeed it all curiously foreshadows New Labour’s educational policy. 38. Previously government grant had met 80 per cent plus of the expenses of colleges; under the new regime the grant could not exceed 75 per cent and several colleges were forced to close. 39. J.Kay-Shuttleworth, Memorandum on Popular Education (London, Woburn Press, 1969), pp. 29–30. 40. At the turn of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, parallel psychological conditions have occurred for teachers under similar administrative and governmental policy making both in Britain and the United States. 41. See for example George Eliot’s fictive account of Tom Tulliver’s severely classical (and unsuitable) education in The Mill on the Floss (1860). 42. François Crouzet, The Victorian Economy trans. by Anthony Forster (New York, Columbia University Press, 1982), p. 417. 43. Dissenters, who could not be awarded degrees from Oxbridge, were major creators of wealth in the UK at this time and the dissenting academies they xxix

founded, e.g. Warrington, were forged on a model more appropriate to boys who would enter the industrial world. 44. Schoolmasters and their assistants received spectacularly bad press in the late 1830s and 1840s, not least in Charles Dickens’ horrific satire of Squeers in Nicholas Nickelby, published in 1838. 45. For example, the Home and Colonial Institute ran some training courses for women lasting several months. Queen’s College founded in 1848 for Anglicans, and Bedford College founded in 1849 for Nonconformists established more thorough-going training for governesses and teachers. 46. See Hirsch, Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon, p. 39–40. 47. In 1850, she founded the North London Collegiate School for Girls, Camden Street, London and subsequently a sister establishment for less well-off girls, the Camden School for Girls. See Chapter 7. 48. Buss was as concerned with the training of teachers as he; indeed, when Payne organized a series of lectures in 1872 ‘On the Theory and Practice of Education’ the course was advertised as ‘to be given in connection with the North London Collegiate and Camden School for Girls’, and many of the lectures were in her schools. 49. Wendy Robinson’s chapter ‘Sarah Jane Bannister and Teacher Training in Transition 1870–1918’ in Practical Visionaries examines teacher training for women in the transitional stage from 1870 to 1918. Following the 1902 Act, which encouraged the rise of state-aided secondary schools, the pupil-teacher centres became less popular. Increasingly, a secondary pupil intending to teach could stay on at school until the age of 16 or 17, after which a year could be spent as a student-teacher before going on to training college. After 1907 bursaries were offered to children staying on at school in order to become teachers later. This later start to vocational training was more acceptable to middle-class parents than apprenticeship at 13 (tied in their minds to a working-class model). By 1914 the pupil-teacher system had been almost totally replaced by new teacher training colleges. 50. The ‘Nine’ Schools in this group were: Eton, Winchester, Westminster, Charterhouse, St Paul’s, Merchant Taylors’, Harrow, Rugby and Shrewsbury. 51. See Richard Aldrich, School and Society in Victorian Britain: Joseph Payne and the New World of Education (Epping, College of Preceptors, 1995), pp. 96–7. 52. Aldrich, School and Society, p. 131. 53. R.W.Rich, The Training of Teachers in England and Wales During the Nineteenth Century (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1933), p. 250. 54. Simon, A Life in Education, p. 320. 55. Ibid.; Report of Schools Inquiry Commission Vol. 1, 139. 56. A useful account of the expansion of the ‘middling classes’ is found in Leonore Davidoff and Catherine Hall, Family Fortunes: Men and Women of the English Middle Class 1780–1850 (London, Hutchinson, 1987). 57. Simon, Studies in the History of Education, pp. 323–4. xxx

58. As Gillian Sutherland’s analysis of nineteenth-century education has shown us, a class of students correlated more strongly with socio-economic class rather than by the age of students (as structured today). ‘Education was then stratified not in terms of age but of class…The categories familiar to the nineteenth century were ‘elementary’, ‘secondary’ and ‘higher’…Elementary education was that provided for the labouring poor. Elementary schools could and did include children as old as fourteen. The teaching provided in Mechanics’ Institutes and night schools for adult members of the working classes was also deemed elementary and could earn grants under the government’s Elementary Education Code until 1893. Secondary schools were those provided for the middle classes and could and did take children of all ages from 7 to 20. From such schools a handful of children might go on to the higher education of the universities. Gillian Sutherland, The Movement for the Higher Education of Women: Its Social and Intellectual Contexts in England, c. 1840–80’ in P.J. Waller (ed.), Politics and Social Change in Modern Britain (Brighton, Harvester Press, 1987). 59. W.E.Forster (1818–86) was son-in-law of Dr Thomas Arnold (headmaster of Rugby school) and brother-in-law of Matthew Arnold, school inspector and poet. 60. Curtis, History of Education, p. 255. 61. For example, he knew Robert Owen, F.D.Maurice (founder of the Working Men’s College and Queen’s College, both in London), and in 1850, he married the eldest daughter of Thomas Arnold, reforming headmaster of Rugby. 62. Curtis, History of Education, p. 277; Verbatim Report of the Debate in Parliament during the Progress of the Elementary Education Bill, p. 42. 63. Jane Martin’s book, Women and the Politics of Schooling discusses the women who seized this new public service role. Alice Westlake, for example, served on the London School Board, and was a strong supporter of the Cambridge Training College for Women. 64. Maclure, Educational Documents, p. 98. 65. See Rich, The Training of Teachers in England and Wales, 2nd edn, chapter 7 for a useful discussion of its effects. 66. Sturt, The Education of the People, p. 341; Curtis, History of Education, p. 307. 67. Lord Sandon’s Act of 1876 raised penalties against parents who did not see that their children received adequate instruction in basic literacy and numeracy. Also employ ers could not hire children under 10 and those between 10 and 14 were required to attend school half-time. Mr Mundella’s Act in 1880 finally settled the question of compulsion when School Boards were mandated to frame by-laws concerning attendance. And in 1891 parents could demand a free education for their children, although school fees were not completely abolished until 1918. 68. Richard Assheton, 1st Viscount Cross (1823–1914) educated at Rugby under Thomas Arnold, and Trinity College, Cambridge. Home Secretary from xxxi

1874–80 and 1885–86. Before he was raised to the peerage in 1886, he was a prominent Lancashire member of the House of Commons. 69. Elizabeth Edwards, Women in Teacher Training Colleges, 1900—1960: A Culture of Femininity (London and New York, Routledge, 2001), p. 6. 70. Frances Widdowson’s dissertation, Going Up Into the Next Class: Women and Elementary Teacher Training 1840–1914 (London, Women’s Research and Resources Centre Publications, 1980) points out that the long training offered the pupil-teacher a limited opportunity to move into the lower- middle-class. This opportunity for social mobility attracted intelligent working-class girls, and, by 1914, nearly 75 per cent of all elementary schoolteachers in England and Wales were women. 71. Cross Report, part 3, chapter 5, pp. 87–8. 72. Ibid., part 3, chapter 6, p. 97. 73. The minister would be assisted by a permanent secretary and advised by an Education Council, comprised of 12 members, one-third of whom were chosen by the Crown, one-third by the universities of Oxford, Cambridge, Victoria and London and the rest by experienced educationists. A six-year term would be designated and arrangements made so full councils could not retire on the same year. With the Board of Education Act of 1899, this central authority was created to supervise the educational affairs in England and Wales. This central authority assured that the national education system could remain intact with less (although not complete lack of) interference from political initiatives. 74. Curtis, History of Education, p. 319. 75. The 1902 Act has sharply divided historians of education. Left-wing historians, including Brian Simon, regard the 1902 Act as a wrong turning that effectively reinforced the social divisions between elementary and secondary education. See R. Aldrich (ed.), A Century of Education (London and New York, Routledge/Falmer, 2002), p. 10. Curtis, on the other hand, regards it favourably as helping to establish a unified system of primary and secondary education, which provided ‘a new chapter in the history of English Education’, p. 319. OSCAR BROWNING Mark McBeth 1 A FORMAL INTRODUCTION TO MR OSCAR BROWNING

In June 1923, Oscar Browning sent his nephew, H.E.Wortham, a letter ‘on a most important matter’ for which he entreated his ‘earnest attention’. Lord Laytmer, Browning’s lifelong friend, as well as his executor and legatee, had just died and Browning informed his nephew that Lord Laytmer had his personal papers because ‘he wished to write my life a duty which I hope you will now undertake…as always been a subject of controversy which is now as fervent as ever, and the truth ought to be told, which cannot be till after my death.’1 Oscar Browning was born on 17 January 1837, in what he describes as ‘one of the blackest fogs ever known in London’.2 Because of the inclement weather the attending physician and nurse arrived late and complications with the delivery arose. The sole survivor of a twin birth, Browning relates the nearly mythical story of his arrival after the announcement of his brother’s stillborn death, ‘When I appeared on the scene some time later the doctor was about to treat me in the same manner. But the nurse, who was then present, cried, “That child is not dead, give it to me,” and with a hearty blow she made me squeal….’ The two significant details of his birth —the doctor’s inattentive neglect and the inscrutability caused by the fog— became consistent themes to Browning’s character: he often felt that he was overlooked and he sensed that the events of his lifetime—a ‘subject of controversy’—should be made clear. His career as an educationist long over, and his personal documents stored in his deceased friend’s bank, Browning feared that his life, work and accomplishments would be forgotten. He appealed to his nephew not to allow his memory to disintegrate into dust on a London vault shelf. Not being an inconspicuous character, the stories and legends about Oscar Browning have grown in much the same way that the man’s waist- line accrued to enormous proportions throughout his life. Often the narratives are inflated and confusing if not downright contradictory. Attempts to discern who Oscar Browning was remain equivocal. The ‘truth [that] ought to be told’ about this corpulent and contentious figure could never be easy to find for biographers. When writing his 1983 biography of Browning, lan Anstruther commented: A FORMAL INTRODUCTION 3

The complexity of Browning’s character seems to be just as difficult to understand today as it was a century ago to those who knew him. He was blessed with talents of a high order—intelligence, charm, wit, stamina, a gift for friendship and a genuine love of youth—which ought to have given him real success in his chosen profession of teaching. At the same time he was cursed with equal and opposite defects—conceit, sloth, narrowness, insensitivity, a genius of upsetting people and an unpleasant homosexual appetite. Over and over again these got him into trouble and stopped him achieving the prizes his talents deserved. The needle on the balance swings back and forward violently between good and bad, and the problem for the biographer which these contradictions pose is formidable.3

Like many of the writers who have described Browning’s life, Anstruther vacillates between flattery and critique. If his writing is a barometer of how Browning’s flamboyant character has been perceived, then we can see how unstably and unpredictably his life could be recorded.4 For example, A.C. Benson, a fellow master of Browning’s at Eton College, portrayed him as ‘very bleary-eyed, and fearfully tubby’. During a Browning dinner party, Benson in a fit of boredom once counted his elderly host’s use of ‘I’, reaching a count of 1,260.5 In the following scene, Benson illustrated his colleague’s self-indulgent manner, writing:

O.B. drifted slowly up, like a porpoise and talked dreamily about himself and how bored he was in the evenings—and (a wicked lie) how he played piano duets with a great pianist now at Cambridge. O.B. is an execrable performer, how he bangs a few notes of a piece and those wrong. Yet the man has genius somehow about him; and a warm heart, though overlaid with egoism.6

As both Benson and Anstruther reveal in their descriptions of this crooning, attention-grabbing oddball, it was impossible to be unfazed by Browning. People who met the man often remained torn between their impressions of the gluttonous, egotistical lecher who irritated them, and the warm, intelligent gentleman who intrigued and charmed them. Taking a more hostile stance, Virginia Woolf represented Browning in A Room of One’s Own as a leading perpetrator in the ‘struggle with fathers’. She cheekily introduced ‘Mr. Browning’ as ‘a great figure’, and referred to him as an example of the ‘very low opinions’ which men hold of women. In her speech to the students at Girton and Newnham in 1928, she alerted them to the opposing forces they faced as aspiring women scholars. During that speech, she began her character critique of Browning:

I will quote, however, Mr. Oscar Browning, because Mr. Oscar Browning was a great figure in Cambridge at one time, and used to 4 OSCAR BROWNING

examine the students at Girton and Newnham. Mr. Oscar Browning was wont to declare ‘that the impression left on his mind, after looking over any set of examination papers, was that, irrespective of the marks he might give, the best woman was intellectually the inferior of the worst man’. After saying that Mr. Browning went back to his rooms—and it is this sequel that endears him and makes him a human figure of some bulk and majesty – he went back to his rooms and found a stable-boy lying on the sofa—‘a mere skeleton, his cheeks were cavernous and sallow, his teeth were black, and he did not appear to have the full use of his limbs… “That’s Arthur” [said Mr. Browning]. “He’s a dear boy really and most high-minded.”’ The two pictures always seem to me to complete each other. And happily in this age of biography the two pictures often do complete each other, so that we are able to interpret the opinions of great men not only by what they say, but by what they do.7

Woolf ’s ‘two pictures’ of Browning—his crass, inexcusable remark, coupled with the emaciated boy-child lounged in his parlour—illustrated him as a misogynist patriarch, yet one who was diacritically marked by his homosexual desire. Browning becomes in this version, not only a woman- hater, but also a predatory paedophile. For Woolf, as well as post- Woolfian feminist critics, Browning was not so much represented as an (albeit faulty) individual, but collapsed into an all-encompassing depiction of masculinist power and oppression.8 Woolf ‘s misleading portrait of Browning attacked him morally, using his homosexuality as a rhetorical device to convince her audience of his depravity. But she reveals only half the story and, in the end, what does Browning’s sexuality have to do with his role in women’s education? However unsavoury his behaviour may have been, how does it mitigate against women’s learning? Woolf needed to underscore his ostensible sexual activities to bolster her argument and to persuade her readership of Browning’s sordid character. Hers was an ideological vendetta against Browning. Woolf wrote, ‘Let us suppose that a father from the highest motives did not wish his daughter to leave home and become writer, painter, or scholar. “See what Mr. Oscar Browning says,” he would say….’9 She repeatedly evoked Browning’s name in a litany of anti-feminist claims; but how justifiable are her accusations? She had obviously read Wortham’s biography of his uncle and drew many of her argumentative sources from it.10 Yet Woolf ‘s rage seems somehow more personally directed at Browning rather than the patriarchal system in which he allegedly participated. One must question why Browning, specifically, provoked so much antipathy in Woolf. Did her father, Leslie Stephen, evoke Browning when once Virginia requested schooling and he refused her? She could have directly lambasted her father or chosen the many Oxbridge men whom she knew to fulfil the patriarchal roles needed to prove her point. Why Oscar Browning?11 A FORMAL INTRODUCTION 5

Woolf does not seem to grasp Browning’s own marginalized position within the Oxbridge milieu. He was an outspoken Fellow at King’s College and wielded a certain amount of influence, but he gained the respect neither of his university colleagues nor did he rise to any esteemed position within the university. Although a prolific writer of historical works, most of his colleagues considered Browning a sloppy scholar of history (for the most part true) and the more informed and better written scholarship he did on the history of pedagogy was not at Cambridge a respected subject; writing about teaching was not considered viable academic work by his more traditional peers. On a number of occasions at Cambridge, Browning was overlooked for high status positions. Perhaps the most disappointing rejection occurred in January 1895, when he applied for the post of Regius Professor of History at Cambridge. Browning had directly and forthrightly contacted Lord Rosebery, the Prime Minister, to request the position. Lord Rosebery, however, chose Lord Acton, a colleague whom Browning admired and, subsequently, congratulated graciously when he took the position. Still Browning could not contain his disappointment and blamed jealous colleagues and unseen enemies for conspiring against him. The satiric journal Punch lampooned Browning’s missed appointment in verse, writing:

The History Professorship— Who’ll from the PREMIER get the post? Here’s Mr. OSCAR BROWNING, one Whose name is chosen from the host. But should Lord R. o’erlook his claim. Oh! will O.B. be wildly riled, In fact, will OSCAR BROWNING then Develop into OSCAR WILDE?12

The writers of Punch publicly mocked Browning’s failures as well as alluded to the reasons for his rejection, namely his sexual proclivities (not to mention the escapades of other characters in the verse). This satiric verse suggestively underscored events that otherwise could not say their name.13 Woolf judges Browning on selective interpretations of biographical sources as well as Bloomsbury hearsay, rather than on the facts of Browning’s daily work at Cambridge. She ‘knew’ him only from second- hand knowledge and, precisely because she did not have access to the archives, library records and letters that were available to male scholars, her depiction of this admittedly brash and contentious personality remains a one-dimensional and uninformed picture of someone who was much more complex.14 The sources that might have dissuaded Woolf from drawing a caricature of a villainous Browning are the letters, accounts and records that were written during Browning’s teaching career. 6 OSCAR BROWNING

Endless letters from colleagues and students thanked him for his attention to their scholastic endeavours. Student accounts of their tutor’s unconditional support remain testimonials to Browning’s efforts to teach all of his students. And journals and ledgers from his student debate societies leave evidence that Browning was a much more liberal and progressive man than his detractors claim. Archival materials, which I present below, debunk the feminist myth that Browning disparaged women’s educational benefits as well as being antagonistic to women’s political issues. After years working within the homosocial environments at Eton and King’s, Browning’s teaching abilities and instincts naturally drew him to teaching young men; however, in considering Browning’s supposed hostility to women students, one should not discount the women he taught in University Extension courses, the university classrooms he opened to women when other lecturers refused, the letters of support he wrote for women studying at Miss Hughes’ college, the efforts he made to aid women’s education at Cambridge, and the thankful recognition he received from its proponents.15 If his sometimes knee-jerk remarks indicated his discomfort in women’s company rather than antagonism towards women’s education, his consistent actions in helping his fellow educators in the advancement of their education should be regarded as considerably more significant to his overall reputation. During his years at Eton, Browning was the Secretary for the Windsor and Eton Association for the Education of Women whose object was to ‘give a sound, practical education in the higher subjects to all classes of women. The instruction will be especially adapted to those who are finishing their School course, or who are preparing in any way for the profession of teaching.’16 Although Browning made disparaging remarks about the quality of women student’s scholarly work (no doubt spurred by a critical remark about his abilities as an examiner), he certainly was not an opponent of their educational advancement.17 Browning championed the education of all who had been made outsiders by antiquated educational systems, both at the secondary level and then later at the university level. The annals of his teaching career reveal an entirely new perspective to the already complex portrait of Oscar Browning. The stories from his students tend to show Browning’s more redeeming qualities. O.B., as they affectionately called him, was a devoted tutor to his students, and they often gave testimony to his dedication as well as his quirkiness. T.P. O’Connor, former student of Browning and later Member of Parliament, recounted a bicycling tour he had once taken with his tutor:

He [O.B.] rode a tricycle and once, accompanying him on a bicycle with funereal pedallings, while he discoursed of Turkish baths and Grand Dukes, and Taormina and English history, I observed that he stuck fast in a muddy place, and prepared to dismount in order to A FORMAL INTRODUCTION 7

shove him out of it. But he obligingly told me to do nothing of the kind, for some casual youth was on the path beside his enmired tricycle, to whom he said: ‘Charlie, old boy, give me a shove. Ha! Ha!’ ‘Charlie old boy’, with his face ashine with smiles, gave the required push, and O.B. rejoined me, as I swooped and swerved along the road in order to go very slowly. 18

As this student cycled round the chattering O.B., he absorbed the quirky, entertaining non-sequitors of his tutor and received an impromptu lesson on wheels. When Browning retold this same story of this summer excursion, he explained how they were retracing a Napoleonic trek through the Alps on the way to Venice. ‘From Trevico it was a short run to Mestre, where I put my tricycle in a gondola and was rowed to Venice.’19 In my version of this travelogue, I imagine the student smiling at the water’s edge as the struggling gondolier balances the roly-poly, huffing-puffing Browning and his three-wheeled vehicle on the slender, shaky vessel. Browning boasted, ‘I was certainly the first Englishman who crossed the Alps on a tricycle.’20 How this student, as well as his peers at Cambridge, must have enjoyed this eccentric tutor, who was always either in an uphill struggle or rocking the boat. This unorthodox tutor opened up his students’ worlds, to stimulate their curiosity and to provoke them constantly to re-evaluate how their learning could occur. O’Connor had preceded his bicycling story, by saying, ‘But who could resist this smiling, good-natured, exuberant man—interested in everybody and in everything, ready to pour forth his immense range of knowledge and to display his indefatigable good nature to everybody, Royalties included, and, as will presently be seen, not even serving boys excluded?’21 Browning was first and foremost a teacher to all whom he encountered. As whimsical as he may sound, Browning took his students’ education entirely seriously, but he did not believe that learning and pleasure need be mutually exclusive. If anything to Browning, pleasure and learning were synonymous and, if he could instil this ideal in his charges, they would only desire more knowledge and more enquiry. Browning once wrote:

The mainspring of education is stimulus, the exciting of interest, but the necessary condition precedent of stimulus is discipline. The chief object of the training of a teacher is to secure discipline, discipline resting not on fear or the threat of punishment, but on kindly influence, which makes disorder impossible, because disorder would be the interruption of a genuine pleasure…the influence of the heart has taken the place of pompous pretence and of hard austerity, or of hectoring and bullying. The pupil does not fear, he likes and he sometimes loves.22 8 OSCAR BROWNING

Figure 1 The distinguished, albeit eccentric, Browning devoted his entire life to the education of young men, and to the advancement of liberal educational ideals, Although posthumously he is accused of a variety of personal defects, his students’ accounts depict a far more amiable and supportive portrait. Reproduced with kind permission of the Provost and Fellows of King’s College, Cambridge. A FORMAL INTRODUCTION 9

Browning believed in educational tenets such as ‘discipline’, but he reconfigured how they were to be achieved by the teacher. According to him, in a classroom where there is an ‘influence of the heart’—where emotional need and intellectual rigour are both attended to—the students find a balance of hard work and enjoyment that perpetuates their desire to learn. This philosophy became a key element in the way he would instruct his students. His own background and style of instruction would become a model for the way he proposed teaching to be done. On his uncle’s teaching philosophy, Wortham reported that Browning’s ‘one working rule was that the stupid boy did not exist. If any seemed stupid, the fault lay in [the tutor] for not having found the exact spot in which their minds were assailable.’23 Browning came to the classroom with standards and expectations for his students, but he likewise knew that an instructor must be accountable for the knowledge, learning environment and exercises that would fulfil students’ learning needs. Browning’s student experiences and his subsequent role as teacher in the classroom influenced his student-centred pedagogical beliefs. Although raised in a privileged milieu and himself having attended the finest schools in England, Browning was not unfamiliar with the tribulations that students face even in the best schools. Regardless of his social status and the cultural capital his education afforded him, he never lost sight of the radically democratic view of education he envisioned for all of his students and how that could be best achieved. Browning wrote:

The real advance in education lies in the reverent and loving watching of each human soul, the guarding it from all influences which may confine or distort its growth, and the surrounding it with all the food it asks for the support of its daily life, that by the gradual progress of individual development it may arrive at a mature character which will find the world in which it lives in accord and harmony with its aims and aspirations.24

Browning sees the project of education as more than disseminating facts; he recognizes it as the potential growth and improvement of individuals (and, as a result, possibly society). Likewise, Browning’s work in the classroom and in his later teacher training college shows us how a teacher can create productive learning situations within the confines of restrictive educational policies and educational administrations. Although forces within the colleges where he worked were not always conducive to his students’ learning needs, he found ways to resolve his students’ problems thus securing their successes. His Bildungsromans if you will—allows us to see the influences and experiences which would inform his eventual teacher training initiatives. Moreover, Oscar Browning’s life in British education, both as student and teacher, may better enable teachers to reflect upon their own perspectives of education, specifically issues of pedagogy. 10 OSCAR BROWNING

NOTES

1. H.E.Wortham, Oscar Browning (London, Constable, 1927), p. 1. 2. Oscar Browning, Memories of Sixty Years at Eton, Cambridge and Elsewhere (London, John Lane, The Bodley Head; New York, John Lane Company, 1910), p. 3. 3. lan Anstruther, Oscar Browning: A Biography (London, John Murray, 1983), p. 189. 4. Browning proclaimed his descendants to be one of the oldest families in England, coming originally from Friesland and then settling in Gloucestershire in the fourteenth century. His father, a London spirits merchant, owned a distillery in Smithfield Market and Browning recalled wandering as a child through the huge vats. His family lived in a home by London’s elegant Regent Park but, soon after his birth, the family (arguably because of financial difficulties) moved to Windsor where Browning remembered the pageantry of the Queen’s daily cavalcade passing his windows. His taste for all things regal was no doubt nurtured in these early memories and would contribute to his later reputation as a snob and aristocratic namedropper. Little did he then know that a major part of his life would be spent a short distance across the River Thames in the cobblestoned thorough-fares of Eton. Browning claimed that, as a scholar, he ‘had always been destined for Eton [College]’ where his brothers had also attended, and in total as both student and then tutor, he would spend 20 years within its venerated halls. 5. David Newsome, On the Edge of Paradise: A.C.Benson, The Diarist (Chicago, IL, University of Chicago Press, 1980), p. 135. 6. Ibid., p. 120. 7. Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own (New York, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1957), P. 55. 8. For further critiques of Browning’s alleged misogynist behaviour see Jane Marcus, ‘Taking the Bull by the Udders: Sexual Difference in Virgina Woolf— A Conspiracy Theory’ in Virginia Woolf and the Languages of Patriarchy (Bloomington &. Indianapolis, IN, Indiana University Press, 1987), pp. 136– 62 and her book review of Ian Anstruther’s biography Victorian Studies 28:3 (Spring 1985), pp. 556–8. 9. Woolf, A Room, p. 55. 10. Woolf ‘s account of O.B. in A Room of One’s Own relied on two main sources: Browning’s Memories of Sixty Years at Eton, Cambridge and Elsewhere and the Browning biography by his nephew, H.E.Wortham, published a year previous to Woolf’s feminist lecture. Perhaps her numerous friends and acquaintances from Cambridge suggested she read about the infamous Cambridge character. At any given Stephen family reunion or Bloomsbury gathering, Woolf assuredly heard gossip about Browning. Her cousin J.K. Stephen and her friends E.M Forster and Lytton Strachey were all students who worked with Browning. J.K.Stephen had often lampooned his former tutor in the Cambridge undergraduate magazine Granta and, strangely enough, Browning enjoyed the attention, however disparaging. A FORMAL INTRODUCTION 11

Well aware of her cousin’s severe opinions on women’s issues, Woolf no doubt associated J.K.Stephen’s previous mentor as a guilty party in the educational moulding of young patriarchs. From these biographical resources and the Cambridge lore of her intimate acquaintances, Woolf pieced together Browning’s persona, creating what I would call the stunt double and scapegoat for patriarchal hegemony. The Arthur’ story is borrowed from Wortham’s book but, in contrast to Woolf ’s narrative, Wortham distinguished O.B. as a rescuer of Arthur rather than his lecherous suitor. When creating her Browning narrative, Woolf decontextualized the story she quoted from Wortham. In the original story, he recounts:

Oh…that’s Arthur… He’s been a stable boy at Chantilly and was shamefully misused. They starved him to get his weight down and then beat him because he lost his strength. Finally, they threw him out. I found him destitute in Paris, and the only thing I could do was to bring him back with me. He’s a dear boy really and most high-minded.

Obviously, O.B.’s initiative for helping this boy was his desire. But should that desire be cast as decisively villainous or altruistic? With the ‘Arthur’ story, it is easy to sexualize O.B.’s intentions because of the power relationships between Browning and Arthur. With heavy-handed rhetoric, Woolf construed this narrative, making Browning a Caligula approaching a chaise-bound nymph.

11. In lieu of the men in her immediate circle such as E.M Forster or Lytton Strachey, I would suggest that Woolf chose Browning because he was himself an easy target of patriarchal oppression. In the eyes of his conservative colleagues, the caroling, tricycling Fellow of King’s was a buffoonish eccentric. The ‘queer’ old O.B. could easily be put on the pillory block of Woolf ‘s rhetorical argument without raising too much opposition; Cambridge University history remembered Browning as an odd, cantankerous don and his contributions could be easily dismissed. Nonetheless, Browning signified for Woolf an iconic figure in Victorian Academia. He had, after all, acquired all the scholastic pomp and circumstance of Eton College and King’s College and, then, dutifully returned to become a member of their instructional staffs. According to her he was an eminent Victorian at Cambridge, and held a prominent position in nineteenth-century elite educational circles. He symbolized the privilege, power and British cultural capital for which those educational institutions stood and from which Woolf, like many women in England, had been excluded. 12. Punch 108 (2 February 1895), p. 60. We would like to thank Peter Raby for drawing our attention to this quotation. 13. During the summer of 1894, the Marquess of Queensberry had stepped up his public fury about the relationship between his son, Douglas and Oscar 12 OSCAR BROWNING

Wilde. The following October Queensberry’s first son, Viscount Drunlangrig, was killed in what was said to be a shooting accident. Unofficially, the death was rumoured to be a suicide relating to a blackmail scandal which would divulge an alleged relationship between Drumlangrig and Lord Rosebery, the Prime Minister. At a moment so steeped in tragedy and rife with intrigue, Lord Rosebery would hardly dare to appoint an ostentatious character like Browning to such a high-profile post. In short, Mr Oscar Browning’s uncertain reputation preceded him. Beyond Browning’s insecure standing as a scholar, Rosebery could not be implicated in the hotbed of homosexual circles —even if only by a circumstantial hiring at Cambridge. Mere guilt by association would deter him. Whatever power and influence Browning may have had at Cambridge was at best dubious, if not completely undermined, by the social context in which he was living. 14. Woolf ’s own biographer, Hermione Lee, reports that ‘Virginia Woolf spent most of her life saying that the idea of biography is—to use a word she liked —poppycock.’ (See Hermione Lee, Virginia Woolf (London, Chatto & Windus, 1996), p. 4. In ‘A Sketch of the Past’, Woolf herself questioned, ‘[W] hy is it so difficult to give any account of the person to whom things happen? The person is evidently immensely complicated… people write what they call “lives” of other people; that is, they collect a number of events, and leave the person to whom it happened unknown.’ See Virginia Woolf, A Sketch of the Past’ in Mitchel A.Leaska (ed.), TheVirginia Woolf Reader (New York, Harcourt Brace & Company, 1984), p. 10. After what seems a firm conviction about the tenuous value of biography, one would assume that Woolf would be not only a cautious reader of personal profiles but, also, a wary author of them as well. Browning cannot be so easily placed into the patriarchal camp in which she has placed him; his ‘allegiance to fathers’ must be reviewed in a much more charged context than Woolf and her disciples have considered. 15. Accompanying the letters he received from Elizabeth Welsh, then Head of Girton College, a printed note stated:

Dear Sir, As members of the Staff of Girton College and Newnham College we feel that we may claim to represent the past students, and we wish to express, in their name, our deep sense of gratitude to the Committee for promoting the admission of Women to Titles of Degrees. We recognize that they have given their time, their thoughts and their energies to a cause in which we are closely interested, and that they have made many sacrifices in supporting it. We owe much to the University, and our sense of the value of the ties which bind us to it has been deepened by the generous zeal which many of its members have shown for the highest educational interests of women.

This formal thank you note was signed by the leading women educators of his time, including Katharine Jex-Blake, Eleanor A FORMAL INTRODUCTION 13

Sidgwick and Blanche Athena Clough (née Ann Jemima Clough). King’s College, Cambridge (OB Welsh). 16. ‘Windsor and Eton Association for the Education of Women’, King’s College, Cambridge (OB 3/7). This document further reads: ‘Effort for the Education of Women having been continued in Windsor during the last three years with great success, it has been thought desirable to attempt to establish the movement on a wider basis, and to make it more generally known.’ Members of the committee were: HRH Princess Christian, Hon. Mrs Wellesley, Hon. Mrs Ponsonby, Hon. Mrs Eykyn, Mrs Goodford, Mrs Ellison, Mrs Oliphant, Rev. the Vicar of Windsor, Oscar Browning, Esq. 17. Wortham states that Browning once said that the ‘impression left on his mind, after looking over any set of examination papers, was that, irrespective of the marks he might give, the best woman was intellectually the inferior of the worst man’ (Wortham, Browning, p. 187) Wortham’s account however is not congruent with the letters of support Browning wrote for women students whose papers he had marked with Firsts. Furthermore in a letter, Henry Sidgwick asked a casual favour of Browning, ‘Money-Coutts [later Lord Laytmer] signed the memorial last year in favour of Degrees to women, but this year has remained unresponsive to the appeals of the Committee. Could you write him a persuasive letter and get him to come up and vote on the 21st?’ (King’s College, Cambridge (OB Sidgwick)). This would be an odd and pointless request to someone antagonistic to women’s education, and Henry Sidgwick was too close a friend of Browning’s not to know his opinions. 18. Daily Telegraph 8 October 1923 (Obituaries) Educ Arch CUL. 19. Browning, Sixty Years, p. 305. 20. Ibid. 21. Daily Telegraph 8 October 1923 (Obituaries) Educ Arch CUL. 22. Oscar Browning, The Importance of Training Teachers’, a lecture delivered at the Summer Meeting, Cambridge, 3 August 1906. CUL Cam.d.906.13, pp. 2–3. 23. Wortham, Browning, p. 57. 24. Oscar Browning, ‘On Science Teaching in Schools’, Chemical News and Journal of Physical Science, 17 (22 May 1868), p. 243–4. BIBLIOGRAPHY

PARLIAMENTARY REPORTS

Brougham Report, 1816. Report of the Royal Commission on the Education of the Lower Orders in the Metropolis. Newcastle Report, 1861. Report of the Commissioners appointed to inquire into the State of Popular Education in England. Clarendon Report, 1864. Report of the Commissioners on Public Schools and Colleges. Taunton Report, 1868. Report of the Royal Commission known as the Schools Inquiry Commission. Cross Report, 1888. Report of the Royal Commission on the Elementary Education Acts. Bryce Report, 1895. Report of the Royal Commission on Secondary Education.

PRIMARY SOURCES FOR OSCAR BROWNING

Archives

Berg Collection of English and American Literature, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundation British Library, London Department of Education, University Archives, Cambridge University Library Eton College Archives Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, The University of Austin, Texas King’s College Modern Archive, King’s College, Cambridge London Metropolitan Archive, Farringdon, London MUDD Library, Yale University Toynbee Hall Archives, Whitechapel, London

Official Publications

Reports from Commissioners: Public Schools and Colleges, Clarendon Report, 1864. Report of the Royal Commission on Secondary Education 1894, University Memoranda, pp. 138–44 and part 3, p. 205. 242 TEACHER TRAINING AT CAMBRIDGE

Key published writings by Oscar Browning Herbart, J.F., The Science of Education, Preface by Oscar Browning (Boston, MA, D.C. Heath, 1900), p. vi. ‘On Science Teaching in Schools’, The Chemical News and Journal of Physical Science 17 (1868), pp. 243–4. ‘Considerations on the Reform of the Statutes of King’s College, Cambridge’ (1877) Cambridge University Library. Cam.c.877.17. ‘Report of the Teaching Memorials Syndicate’ (12 June 1878) CUL Educ Arch. ‘Address on Secondary Education delivered at the Social Science Congress Birmingham, 1884’, CUL Cam.c.884.8. Aspects of Education (New York, Industrial Education Association, 1888). An Introduction to the History of Educational Theories (New York, E.L. Kellogg & Co., 1888). ‘Arnold and Arnoldism’, Education, A Journal for the Scholastic World 1 (1890), pp. 309–10. ‘Presidential Address to the Association of Principals and Lecturers in Training Colleges under Government Inspection’ (December 1898), CUL Educ Arch. ‘Introduction’, Maia: Journal of the Cambridge University Day Training College 1 (October 1902), CUL Educ Arch. ‘Letter to W.G. Bell’ (26 October 1909) CULUA Educ Arch. Memories of Sixty Years at Eton, Cambridge and Elsewhere (London, John Lane, The Bodley Head; New York, John Lane Company, 1910). ‘Letter to Sidney Colvin’ (1 January 1918), Berg Collection of English and American Literature, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundation. ‘Letter to The [London] Sunday Times’ (12 February 1922). Memories of Later Years (London, T.Fisher Unwin, 1923).

PRIMARY SOURCES FOR ELIZABETH HUGHES Archives

Cheltenham Ladies’ College Department of Education, University Archives, Cambridge University Library Hughes Hall, Cambridge King’s College Modern Archive, King’s College, Cambridge Newnham College, Cambridge Northampton Roman Catholic Diocesan Archives Perse School for Girls, Cambridge

Official Publications

Report of the Royal Commission on Secondary Education 1894, Minutes of Evidence, pp. 469–90, 201 and 207. Report of the Departmental Committee on the Pupil-Teacher System 1897, pp. 482–6. ‘Report of the Degrees for Women Syndicate in Cambridge University’ Reporter, 23 February 1897, pp. 586–605. BIBLIOGRAPHY 243

Key published writings by Elizabeth Hughes

‘The Higher Education of Girls in Wales’, paper given at the Eisteddfod held in Liverpool in 1884, pp. 40–62. ‘The Slojd System’ in School Board Chronicle, 9 February 1889. ‘Miss Clough, First Principal of Newnham College’, Educational Review, April 1892. ‘The Future of Welsh Education’, Transactions of the Cymmrodorian Society 1894/ 95. ‘A National Education for Wales’, Young Wales Vol. 1 (Aberystwyth, 1895). ‘The Training of Teachers’, Education in the Nineteenth Century, R.D. Roberts (ed.), Secretary for Lectures of the Local Examinations and Lectures Syndicate (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1901), pp. 171–92. Published lectures given in August 1900 in Education section of the Cambridge University Extension Summer Meeting. ‘Letters to My Students’ in Cambridge Training College Gild Newsletters 1891– 1906. Introduction to Christabel Osborn and Florence B.Low (eds), Manuals of Employment for Educated Women, No. 1, Secondary Teaching (London, Walter Scott, n.d.). The Probation System of America issued by the Howard Association, London. ‘The Teaching of English to Japanese in Japan’, English Teachers’ Magazine (Tokyo, 1907) two instalments: June, pp. 3–6 and December, pp. 9–14.

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ESSAYS AND ARTICLES

Cook-Gumperz, J. ‘Literacy and Schooling: An Unchanging Equation?’ in J.Cook- Gumperz (ed.) The Social Construction of Literacy (New York, Cambridge University Press, 1986), pp. 16–44. de Bellaigue, C. ‘The Development of Teaching as a Profession for Women Before 1870’, Historical Journal Vol. 44, No. 4 (Cambridge University Press, 2001), pp. 963–88. Delamont, S. ‘The Contradictions in Ladies’ Education’ in S. Delamont and L. Duffin (eds) The Nineteenth-Century Woman: Her Cultural and Physical World (London, Croom Helm, 1978), pp. 134, 163. Delamont, S. ‘Distant Dangers and Forgotten Standards: Pollution Control Strategies in the British Girls’ School, 1860–1920’, Women’s History Review Vol. 2, No. 2 (1993), pp. 233–51. Dyhouse, D. ‘Social Darwinistic Ideas and the Development of Women’s Education in England, 1880–1920’, History of Education, Vol. 5, No. 1 (1976), pp. 41– 58. ‘Education of the Poor’, Edinburgh Review 17 (November 1810), pp. 58–89. Fitch, J.G. ‘Professional Training for Teachers’, Educational Review 3 (January 1892), pp. 117–22. Fowler, H. ‘Eleanor Mildred Sidgwick 1845–1936’ in E.Shils and C. Blacker (eds) Cambridge Women: Twelve Portraits (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 7–28. Gent, G.W. ‘On the Proposed Day Training Colleges at Oxford and Cambridge’, Educational Review 2 (1891), pp. 193–5. Haines, S. and Hallgarten, J. ‘From Ivory Towers to Chalkface: Recruiting Teachers from the Elite Universities’ in Martin Johnson and Joe Hallgarten (eds) From Victims of Change to Agents of Change: The Future of the Teaching Profession (London, Institute of Public Policy Research, 2002), pp, 150–64. Hughes M.V. ‘Pioneer Days in a Woman’s Teacher Training College’ in L.J. Lewis (ed.), Days of Learning: An Anthology of Passages from Autobiography for Student Teachers (London, Oxford University Press, 1961), pp. 88–102. Jackson, W.W. ‘Day Training Colleges at Oxford and Cambridge’, Educational Review 1 (January 1892), pp. 136–42. Johnson, R. ‘Educational Policy and Social Control in Early Victorian England’, Past and Present 49 (1970), pp. 96–119. ‘Lancaster’s Improvements in Education’, Edinburgh Review 11 (October 1807), pp. 61–73. Lewis, R. ‘The Welsh Radical Tradition and the Ideal of a Democratic Popular Culture’ in E.F. Biagini (ed.) Citizenship and Community: Liberals, Radicals and Collective Identities in the British Isles 1865–1931 (cambridge, cambridge university press, 1996), pp. 325–40 BIBLIOGRAPHY 249

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DISSERTATIONS AND UNPUBLISHED PAPERS

McBeth, M. ‘The Tightrope of Desire: Lessons from Oscar Browning’’. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation (City University of New York, 2001). 250 TEACHER TRAINING AT CAMBRIDGE

Strathern, M. ‘Frances Mary Buss: Her Role in the Education of Women’ (Girton College, Cambridge, October, 1999). Widdowson, F. Going Up Into the Next Class: Women and Elementary Teacher Training (London, Women’s Research and Resources Centre Publications, 1980).