by Stanlegh Meresith
Established in 1888 to educate the daughters of the upper and mercantile classes in the North of England, Cropton Hall Girls Boarding School was, in the early 1950's, suffering a reputation for poor academic standards. It had become increasingly dependent for its financial survival on enrolling girls of a troublesome disposition, including even some expelled from other schools.
The building itself had been purpose-built, a neo-gothic Victorian mansion on three floors, laid out in three wings. The extensive grounds provided ample playing fields and space for rambling nature walks in the surrounding woods. It had been these fine facilities, along with the no-nonsense Presbyterian values of its founders, that had seen the school flourish through the earlier decades of the twentieth century.
Catering for the 14 - 18 age-group, Cropton Hall had capacity for 180 girls, with three class groups in forms four and five as well as in the lower and upper Sixth. By the summer of 1953, however, the roll had fallen to just 95 girls and the governors were discussing, with great concern, the depleted finances and even the possibility of closure.
The Headmistress, a Mrs Weekes, had recently resigned at short notice, citing the impossibility of raising standards among what she described in her letter of resignation as "such poorly raised, poorly behaved girls". No doubt she had in mind the three recent incidents in the nearby village that had brought opprobrium on the school and led to two expulsions that could not in truth be afforded. That she herself had been perceived by many of the longer-established teaching staff as ineffectual and unable to impose an adequate disciplinary ethos led the Chair of Governors to summon the Deputy Head, Miss Edith Bainbridge, a buxom lady approaching 60, to an extraordinary meeting of the governing body on August 2nd.
"Edith, thank you so much for coming in during your holiday," began Sir Wilfred Althorp. He had been Chair for some years and, though quite elderly now, was well-liked and trusted by everyone associated with the school. His wife, Lady Althorp, an alumna of the school and fellow governor, sat to his left. "As you know," he continued, "Mrs Weekes resigned a week after the end of term leaving us in something of a pickle."
"Indeed, Sir Wilfred."
"We urgently need to appoint a new Headmistress and we felt that the right course of action would be to start by asking if you yourself would be willing to step into the breach, as it were. We are well aware..." He included with a gesture the other five governors round the oak table "...that matters have become dire within the school. I was so personally... deeply... embarrassed by the appalling behaviour in the village that I felt obliged to apologise to the Postmistress myself. It is paramount that we put a stop to this kind of thing, and that we rescue the reputation of Cropton Hall as a matter of urgency. Otherwise..." He shrugged.
Miss Bainbridge cleared her throat softly. "Sir Wilfred, I share, as I am sure we all do, your concern and sadness about the recent decline in both standards and numbers. Frankly, our recently departed Headmistress lacked..." She paused. "How shall I say it ... firm resolve? What is needed now is quite simply the smack of firm discipline, and I mean that in a very literal sense." A guffaw of approval emerged from Lady Althorp at these words. The Deputy Head continued: "In my experience, teen-aged girls such as ours respond most readily to the kind of short, sharp shock that makes them stop and think. Mrs Weekes chose to abandon use of the cane as being too severe; she also broke with previous practice and took upon herself sole responsibility for administering corporal punishment; and was..." - hurt and indignation rose in her voice - "if I may say, disastrously sparing in her use of the plimsoll she adopted as the sole implement for that punishment."
"Bah! Humbug!" muttered Lady Althorp.
"I see," replied Sir Wilfred, already aware of his wife's views on the subject. He was somewhat taken aback though at the passion of Edith Bainbridge's feelings. "A case of "Spare the rod, spoil the child", eh?"
"Indeed, Sir Wilfred. However," she continued, "although I am of course flattered by the faith in my abilities your offer suggests, I must decline it."
Expressions of surprise greeted this news.
"It is not that I do not wish to continue my service within the school. I love Cropton Hall and the past two years under Mrs Weekes have been most trying for me. However, I believe I am too closely associated in the girls' minds with the previous regime to be effective as Headmistress at this point."
"I see," repeated the Chair of Governors, looking crestfallen. "Hmm. Trouble is, we scarcely have time to advertise for a replacement at this late hour. I really don't know... are you sure you couldn't..."
"I do have a suggestion, Sir Wilfred... if I may?"
The old gentleman looked interested.
"Please, Edith, go on."
"Well, there is a young woman - I say young, but she must be in her forties now, of course - an alumna of Cropton Hall, I'm proud to say, as I played some part in the formation of her character when she was a pupil here. Her name is Verily Markham and she is at present Deputy Headmistress of St Hilda's, a boarding school in Devon - a school which enjoys an excellent reputation based on firm discipline. We have corresponded off and on over the years."
"Well, this does sound promising," interposed Sir Wilfred. "And is there a chance that Mrs Markham could be enticed away from Devon?"
"Miss Markham is unmarried, Sir Wilfred, and I believe she would jump at the chance to take on a challenge such as Cropton Hall - she has often written about how fondly she remembers her schooldays here. I would be both happy and proud to serve as Deputy to Miss Markham and I'm confident she will bring to the role the qualities we have discussed."
"And the canes? Will she bring canes to the role?" piped up Lady Althorp. Edith Bainbridge could not suppress a smile.
"I have no doubt, Lady Althorp."
The decision to invite Miss Verily Markham for an interview with the full Board of Governors at the soonest opportunity was agreed unanimously and the meeting adjourned for tea, the finest Scottish blend.
Edith Mary Bainbridge: her diary
August 24th 1953
What a month! Little could I have dreamed just six short weeks ago of the recent extraordinary turn of events.
I could see how unhappy Clarissa was and how unwilling to accept my guidance. The consequences of her unwillingness to grasp the thistle of the thorny issue (as it were!) of discipline in the school were plain for all to see - all except she herself, although I think in that final week of term she was beginning to sense that she had lost the respect of staff and pupils alike. And that ridiculous assembly when they just wouldn't quieten down and she gave the entire school 200 lines ... I think we all knew something had to give. I even heard one of the fifth-formers - I think it was Rachel Thomas - say "For God's sake, why doesn't she just wallop us instead?" I gave her an extra 50 lines for blaspheming, but I sympathised with her sentiments and couldn't suppress a smile as I walked away.
Verily was simply mesmerising in her interview. Sir Wilfred tried to probe with some tough questioning, but she responded with such clarity and articulate precision that it quickly became apparent to all that probing was simply superfluous. And when Verily related so movingly the beneficial effects of the strict discipline she had received when herself a pupil at the Hall, Lady Althorp could contain herself no longer! "Wilfred!" she barked. "We've heard enough. Now appoint the woman and let's have some tea!" He was only too happy to agree, as was every member of the Board.
Verily's brief account of her schooldays at the Hall revived some of my own memories of the young Miss Markham. It was hard to imagine at her interview last week, when she was so collected and authoritative, just what a scamp she was as a teenager! Over tea (a delicious Twinings blend I believe) after the appointment had been confirmed, she rather sheepishly reminded me of a time I'd given her "eight very smart whacks" with the wooden-backed hairbrush I employed when I was Dorm Mistress to the new 4th formers. She said she'd been reported for talking after lights out for about the fifth time that term, and that I'd made sure she felt my disapproval.
That evening after dinner I found myself delving more deeply into my memories of just how much trouble Verily Markham had managed to get herself into! She was never malign, mind you, not a bully, or a sneak; in fact far from it - she enjoyed the status of a heroine among her classmates. She was just full of life, and mischief - and rather remarkably fearless in the face of authority, which led inevitably to more than her share of whackings and canings, however thoroughly deserved! The girls always seemed rather fascinated about each other's punishments - keeping count, comparing marks and the like - and as the recipient of so many, Verily won the admiration of her peers. And not only her peers - her attitude to being punished was always so... accepting, and the contrition shown so apparently genuine, that she was grudgingly admired by most of us teachers, despite the trouble she could cause. She also set a good example: she didn't whinge or complain that the rules were wrong or unfair, or her punishment undeserved.
I remembered these qualities of the young Verily Markham clearly, but my memory was hazy when it came to any particular incidents. I didn't like to say so that day over tea, but I hadn't actually remembered giving her the whacking she referred to. Then it occurred to me that I might find some references to her in my diaries from those years. A search in the trunk in the back bedroom quickly unearthed my leather-bound volumes marked 1926 and 1927 and it wasn't long before I came across a passage, written in my slightly more awkward, youthful hand (though I'm rather proud of the maturity of my style):
May 10th 1927
That Markham girl from 5B was in hot water again the other day. She really does seem to be accident-prone, charming though she can be. The Head gave her quite a seeing-to; but made an interesting comment afterwards...
I was going to hand in my weekly Record of Work as Miss Bentley insists on checking the teaching of Junior Mistresses. As I turned into the corridor that leads to her study, I saw a small fourth-former standing outside the door and in the same moment I heard, from within, the distinctive sound of a cane whistling down to meet its target. Miss Bentley, a keen athlete, holds the view that an occasion of corporal punishment should be a "marathon, not a sprint" and she waits at least a minute, sometimes two, between each stroke. Wondering whether I should return to the staffroom and try to complete my errand later, I asked the forlorn-looking pupil,
"Which stroke was that?"
She looked confused. "Er ... sorry, Miss?"
"How many strokes has the girl being punished received so far?"
"That was the first, Miss."
I decided I would wait anyway. After a pause, the girl cleared her throat and in a tiny, fearful voice said,
"Please, Miss. Please ... can you help me?" She looked at me pleadingly, tears brimming in her eyes. I could guess what might be coming.
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