The New Schoolmaster

Extract: A Visit to Bedlam (OR the LUNATYCK'S revenge)

The new master had made an instant impression on the boys at Southwick Grammar School. His thick black beard, skullcap, and darkened spectacles were strange enough to pupils more used to weak chinned clergymen giving stuttered instruction. He spoke with a French accent and had not birched a single pupil in the week since his appointment. The previous masters had been free with their use of the stick to enforce discipline. Ever since his arrival, Master Solomon had been the source of fevered speculation by the class.

Old veteran returned with the King was the general consensus, but none of the boys were certain. Master Solomon was a mystery.

Hezekiah’s lessons were not the usual dull repetition of the catechism the boys had been accustomed to. He had told them to discard their hornbooks and slates, and provided each with an empty journal and expensive pencil.

‘I want you to record your day as well as your lessons,’ he told them. ‘I have managed to procure copies of Thuycidides, Herodotus and Tacitus for our Greek and Latin lessons; enough for each of you to have one.’ He passed the small volumes around until all of them had a copy. ‘Now, they are expensive so do not damage them. Yes, Hillier?’ Hez turned to the small dark haired lad with his hand up.

‘My father has copies of this at home, sir.’

‘Does he indeed? He must be very well read.’

‘Not so much,’ laughed young Hillier.

Hez did not know how to respond to that. The books were his but he could hardly tell his nephew that without revealing himself. Instead, he gave a strange smile and told the class to turn to the introduction of Thucydides histories

Grammar school days are long and tedious even with a teacher as gifted as Hezekiah. The class would assemble at the church hall every morning by seven o’ clock, and they would be at their desks with only a short break until five at night. The boys soon realised that ‘Master Solomon’ was a different kind of teacher. He asked them questions, challenged them, and made them think about their responses. He encouraged the boys to ask him about anything, but almost always answered their queries with another question of his own.

After only four days of his instruction, all of the boys were eager to get to school on time and to their lessons. Hez could hear them gathered outside waiting to be brought into class.

‘What did he say we were doing today?’ one of the older lads asked Hillier.

‘The Battle of Actium,’ replied the sandy haired boy. ‘He said he has models.’

‘Models?’

‘Of the ships.’

Even in their wildest imaginations they did not dream of the display that awaited them. Hez had pulled back their desks and laid out a shimmering blue silken cloth that Genevieve had given him on the floor – at least eight foot square. Onto the silk, he had placed books wrapped in more green silks to represent the land and islands.

‘Ah, gentlemen,’ said Hez when he opened the door. ‘Come in. See over there, in that box. We have the navy of Anthony and Cleopatra painted in blue and in the other box Octavian’s fleet in Roman red. Now, Long, what does Suetonius tell us about Actium.’

Long was one of the older boys, part of the Whaddon clan, dark haired, studious and quiet; his father was a miller. He quickly found the reference in his Latin tome and stuttered out a translation.

‘Not long afterwards he won the sea-fight at Actium, where the contest continued to so late an hour that the victor passed the night on board.’

Hez smiled, excellent. ‘Now, Hillier you shall be Anthony in this struggle and Long and his team will lay out the Romans.’

‘Are they not both Romans, Sir?’ asked Hillier.

‘Yes and no,’ said Hez. ‘Anthony has the Egyptians as well, but they are brothers. Anthony was married to Octavian’s sister until he spurned her for Cleopatra. Two brothers battling for Rome’s future, much like the story of Romulus and Remus we looked at.’

The rest of the day was spent arranging and replaying the Battle of Actium using the writing of the ancients to direct the two teams. With each of them reading out parts from the histories as the others moved the wooden models around on the silken cloth. The boys loved every minute of the lesson. It was unlike anything they had done before. Finally, as the church bells rang out five o clock, the day was over. The class was almost sorry to pack up and go home.

The boys hurried to put their books away as Hez folded up the silken cloth. They turned back to their teacher and their mouths fell agape. Master Solomon had taken four of the wooden ships and was juggling them, faster and faster in the air with incredible skill. Then he tossed them one at a time into the box with the others. Hez gave a wide grin to his class behind the beard.

'You may be dismissed gentlemen. I will see you all tomorrow.’