As everything appertaining to my father had to be a credit to him, strenuous efforts were made to bring me up to the standard; but from the start I was a failure both physically and mentally. I was educated one way and another; system could not be applied to me. Schools made but little impression on me, with the exception of one particular boarding school, kept by a Church of England parson in a small village not far from Montreal. This parson, Canon Barr, was a crude, rough, wicked, ignorant, self-opinionated, hypocritical old man, more farmer than parson. His only aim seemed to be to make as much out of his boys as possible with the least trouble. He thrashed me cruelly on the slightest pretext, in fact he thrashed everybody in the school and on his farm; the boys, his sons and daughters, the servants, his horses and his dogs. I am not aware that he thrashed his wife, but as I have seen him beat a horse in the face with his fists, and kick it in the stomach with his long boots, it is highly probable that he laid violent hands on his wife. The Canon was a tall, lanky, rawboned individual with prominent nose and chin, and small eyes set very close together. He suffered from some skin disease that made his complexion scaly and blotchy. This affliction, no doubt, affected his temper, for I noticed that when the disfiguring blotches were fiery looking, he was particularly touchy. As he sat at his desk in class-room, he was always pawing his bald head with a large bony hand, probing his ear with a lead pencil or pen handle, or investigating his nose. His black waistcoat, which buttoned behind, was always decorated with spots, and his odour was that of a stableman. His voice was harsh and loud, except when speaking from the pulpit; then he subdued it to a monotonous sing-song drone involving four semitones in a chromatic scale; the kind of noise the bass string of a ’cello will make if it is plucked while the peg is turned up and let down again. I never saw him laugh heartily, but a joyless grin disclosing large yellow teeth sometimes wrinkled his displeasing face; and this generally occurred just before some one was beaten.
The Canon had a balky horse with a hairless tail which he really appeared to delight in belabouring. On one occasion his little daughter Mabel and several of the school boys were present while he thrashed this horse without mercy. The horse was harnessed to a heavily ladened stone-boat so that he could not bolt. Mabel screamed a little weak “Oh!”
“Go into the house, daughter,” said the Canon.
“But father,” she began. She got no further when slash came the whip about her poor little legs.
“Into the house,” the Canon shouted. A boy standing by with every expression of rooted horror upon his face was suddenly discovered.
“What are you gaping at, you silly little ass?” said the old man. At the same instant he struck him on the side of the head with his open hand a blow which nearly felled him. I was the stricken boy.
The rod was never spared in this school, with the result that every one lied and deceived systematically.
Sundays under the Canon were a horror. We rose at eight o’clock and went to prayers before breakfast. After breakfast we had time to dress and to go to Bible-class. Bible-class ended just in time for church, and immediately after church we dined. The Canon offered up a particularly long blessing before Sunday dinner. It always spoiled what little appetite I had. His voice at any time was not a pleasant one, but his hypocritical Sunday tone was exasperating. After dinner we sat in the schoolroom and studied the lesson and collect for the day. At three we went to Sunday School, which lasted till nearly five. From five to six we walked with a teacher—a pusillanimous wretch without a soul. We had tea at six and went to church at seven. I doubt if a more perfect programme could be elaborated for the purpose of disgusting children with religion.
The Canon’s favourite hymn was “Abide with me.” Perhaps he was aware that the more foolish parents there were who would send poor, helpless children to abide with him the more satisfying would be his income.
It is not surprising that I heartily hated Church and all it implied; with a very special hatred for “Abide with me,” in which I had been forced to lift up my voice hundreds of times before I was fifteen years old.