“‘Steam vessels might be propelled by means of an endless screw, something like a corkscrew with the wire flattened in a direction perpendicular to the axis. There might be several fixed at the sides, at the stern, &c. This apparatus would work equally well whether altogether or partly immersed in water. If one could be placed so as to move like a rudder, it would be exceedingly efficient in changing the direction of the boat.’”[37]
I find also in his Journal for the year 1817, the following record: “If I can find time, I intend to construct a model of an engine which I have long thought of. It is something similar to a steam-engine, only that it is to work by exploding a mixture of hydrogen and oxygen gases. Such an engine I think might be employed to advantage in driving carriages, as the gases might be condensed.” A few months later he writes: “During the Christmas vacation I tried a few experiments to ascertain the force of exploded oxygen and hydrogen when in combination, and found it to be so small that it cannot be applied to the purpose I intended; at least, that such an engine would be far more expensive than one to work by steam.”
Soon after he had finished his clock he undertook a very different piece of work. He had already taught himself the art of land-surveying. “I learned the art,” he wrote, “as best I could; I might almost say I found it out, for I had then no book on the subject, and my father had no special knowledge of the matter.” As was usual with him, he at once began to teach what he himself had learnt. With a class he measured and mapped the playground and some little of the neighbourhood. About this time a murder—famous in legal history—was committed within four miles of Hill Top, and at once roused a strong public interest.
“The name of the victim was Mary Ashford. Thornton, the man charged with the crime, and whom the whole neighbourhood believed to be guilty, got off at the trial by setting up an alibi. So strong was the feeling excited by this escape, that it was resolved to resort to the long-disused right of appeal; and a subscription being speedily raised to defray the expenses, the necessary proceedings were commenced. This startling course brought the matter into the London papers, and interest became general. Illustrated journals there were none, but my drawing-master published a portrait of the poor girl—taken, I suppose, after death—with a view of the pond in which the body was found; and one of the Birmingham newspapers (the Midland Chronicle) gave a rude plan of the ground on which the chief incidents occurred. This, however, being apparently done without measurement, and not engraved either on wood or copper, but made up as best could be done with ordinary types, was of course but a very imperfect representation. I resolved to improve upon this, and, in conjunction with a former schoolfellow, to whom, though he was much older than myself, I was then giving private lessons in surveying, I led my class to the spot, took the measurements, and constructed a complete map, not merely of the spot where the murder was committed, but of the neighbourhood, so far as to include the place of the alleged alibi. This was published not only in Birmingham but also in London, and we cleared about fifteen pounds by the enterprise. It may be convenient to the reader to add, though this has nothing to do with my story, that when the case of appeal came before the Court of King’s Bench, Thornton, throwing down his glove in due form, demanded wager of battle; and as this barred all other measures, while of course the age of ordeals was passed, the proceedings came to an end, and the prisoner was released. However, he never again ventured to show himself near the scene of his alleged crime. In the next Session of Parliament an Act was passed abolishing wager of battle, and with it the right of appeal. I remember that our family verdict on the subject condemned the latter half of this measure.”[38]
Rowland Hill’s map was copied by a dishonest tradesman:—
“Incensed at such rascally treatment,” he records in his Journal, “I told my publisher I was determined to maintain an action for damages against the man. On examining the Act respecting the copyright of engravings, my brother Matthew was fearful that we might not succeed in the event of a trial, because we had not specified on the plate the exact day on which it was published. It said ‘published,’ etc., ‘Nov., 1817,’ I immediately had the plate altered before any more impressions were taken; but as several had been sold of the first kind, my brother thought that there would be some danger in risking a trial.”
The inventions and schemes that I have described were rather the occupations of Rowland Hill’s few hours of leisure than the real work of his life. It was in school-work that he was closely engaged for long hours every day during many a year. His position was not a little trying. Had it not been for one side of his father’s character, it might have become unbearable. He and his brother Matthew, as they grew older and saw more of the outside world, had become more and more dissatisfied with the state of the school. They were both ambitious youths; and up to a certain age their chief ambition—at all events, their nearest ambition—was to make Hill Top a thoroughly good school. Before many years had passed, the elder brother was bent on making his way at the bar, while Rowland was thinking how he should reform the education of England—I might almost say, of the world. As his views widened with increasing years, he recorded in his Journal:—
“The beneficial effects which I every day see arise from the improvements which have been introduced into the school, and the acknowledged superiority of our system of education, lead me to think that the combination of talent, energy, and industry which exists in our family, directed as it is, with few exceptions, to the science of education, may some time or other produce effects which will render our name illustrious in after ages. The more I mix with the world, the more insight I have into the proceedings and opinions of other men, the conviction is forced upon me that our family possesses talents, and energy, and devotedness to one object, seldom to be met with.... Our plans are calculated for large numbers, and to obtain them is the present object of all our attention. Some of us think that the best mode will be to attempt to induce the public to establish a large school or college for the education of the children of the upper and middle classes. Other members of the family are afraid that in so doing we may risk our present establishment; but I think that the attempt may be so managed as not in the slightest degree to injure our present school, but rather to forward its success. To establish this college is the height of my ambition. I feel confident that, with great numbers and great capital, the science and practice of education might be improved to such a degree as to show that it is now in its infancy.”
It was at the age of twenty-five, when he had for some years been the real head of the school, that he made this record. When, however, his brother and he first began their reforms, their efforts were turned to much smaller matters. Matthew set about improving the teaching, while Rowland chiefly took in hand the organization of the school and the management of the accounts. As regards most of their changes, their father at first showed, if not great unwillingness, at all events considerable indifference. Often they had to set themselves against some of his most cherished theories; often they had to stir him up to action when he would have liked much rather to remain in complete repose. “It is an old sore,” writes one of the brothers, later on, “to witness my father’s apathy in the midst of all our exertions.” It was at first no easy matter to win his consent to their plans of reform, but he soon recognised his sons’ ability, and gave their powers full play. Many a man who is too easy-going to carry out to the full the work that lies before him, is yet “rough, unswayable, and rude,” when his own children come forward and do his work with their own hands. This was not Thomas Hill’s character. “My father,” his son said, “showed no signs of vexation, nor was he ever jealous of any of us. He used only to express a fear that I had got too much on my hands. So far from being jealous, he was proud of my doing the work, and used to boast of it to others.” How highly, indeed, he had always thought of his son is shown by the following anecdote, which I find recorded in Rowland’s Journal for 1817:—