Early Memories of Clarendon . 1936 - 40

 

My sister Patricia and I were born in Calcutta where our father was director in the large firm, Andrew Yule and where we spent our early years. In those days it was the custom for parents to send their children to boarding schools in England. So, since my parents wanted us to have a Christian education, they travelled to England in 1936 to place us in Clarendon School, then in Malvern.

 

I was then only nine years old and Patricia, a quiet shy little girl, was just seven and a half and we were the youngest pupils that had ever attended the school.

 

Arriving at Paddington station dressed in our school uniform, we were handed over to the school matron, Kathleen Robertson, who assured our parents that she would take good care of us, but this did not ease the pangs of parting from them.

 

The whistle blew and we were hugged and kissed, and as the train steamed away, I remember feeling desperately forlorn and lonely as I saw them waving and blowing kisses to us. That last image of father was all I had to remind me of him until almost five years later when I returned to India and I saw him again, but as a stranger. Sadly during this time my memory of my parents faded, and without any photos to remind me, I couldn’t even remember what they looked like.

 

At that time there were about ninety boarders at the school, divided into three groups. I was in Red House, the others in White and Blue, with a system of awards by stars for good work and behaviour, and stripes for bad. At the end of year at prize-giving, a shield was awarded to the house with the highest credits.

 

Those early years were very difficult for me, especially as we didn’t know anyone either at school or in England. Poor Patricia was terribly home-sick, and when she was bullied, I got into frequent trouble by trying to protect her. The discipline was harsh, and for what I considered a minor offence, I was often sent to my dormitory to spend some time there lying on my bed, with a glass of water and a slice of bread, and nothing else to eat or do except ponder my misdoings. Sometimes this meant that I had missed doing my homework, so had to do this in my free time. I have to admit that since I was only ten, this treatment made me even more rebellious.

 

 I slept in “Baby Dorm” with my sister Patricia and four other children (two of whom were the Emperor of Abyssinia’s grand-daughters, Ruth and Seble Desta).

 

One night when I was caught talking after “Lights Out”, I was banished to an attic room to sleep there on my own, not just for a night, but for a whole week. It was very cold, dark and drafty and the horse-hair mattress was so hard and lumpy that I couldn’t get to sleep, so lay there for hours feeling angry, frightened and upset. To make matter worse, I could hear scratching sounds which I thought were rats. Every night, I was escorted to this room and every night I heard these strange sounds, so I opened the door in the hopes of hearing human voices, but there were no lights or sounds of anyone on that floor.

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I had been alone there for two days when I was awakened during the night with a strange sensation on my legs. Marmalade the school cat had found me and lay purring on my legs. He had probably come up there to hunt for rats and mice, so every night I kept the door ajar in the hopes he would come back to keep me company. He came without fail and was a great comfort to me, and helped me to sleep more easily.

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On one occasion for talking during meals, I was sent from the table to my dormitory without being allowed to finish my meal, and Miss Barnet the Housekeeper, who was at the head of the table, later brought me a slice of bread and forced me to drink a glass containing a revolting tasting oily fluid, which I found was Castor Oil, and remembered would surely give me stomach cramps. When I asked why my stomach should be made to suffer for talking when I should have been silent, this was deemed to be insolent, so I was also awarded a ‘stripe’, which was a black mark against my ‘House’. This sparked further trouble by way of a stern lecture when I handed this in to the prefect who was head of my Red House.

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A strict routine for entering and leaving the dining room for meals was observed.

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When the bell rang, we assembled in our classrooms and waited there until the second bell sounded. We then made our way to our seats in the dining room through the long hall past the headmistress’s Drawing room. One day, to my horror, I discovered that my punishment for a misdemeanor was to shame me by making me sit on ‘the stool of repentance’ outside that room under the gaze of every girl in the school as they filed past me on their way to the dining room for the evening meal.

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They would all know that I must have done something dreadful to be administered such an extreme and shameful punishment.

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The reason on this occasion was that I had crawled through the hedge of a neighbour’s garden to “steal” some windfall apples and been caught by the old lady who we had all nicknamed, “The Witch”, because she looked like, and dressed like one. Unseen, she had pounced on me, and grabbing me firmly by the back of my neck, marched me along the main road back to the entrance of the school, all the time prodding me with her walking stick, where she then accused me of theft as she  handed me over to Miss Sowden. I had broken no less than two of the Ten Commandments in the Bible. “Thou shalt not steal” and “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s goods”.

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Charlotte Bronte’s novel Jane Eyre tells of a similar experience where Jane is falsely accused and shamed by making her stand on a stool in front of all the pupils in Lowood Institution with a placard bearing the words ‘Liar!”.

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As I look back to the shame and embarrassment that I suffered at that time, is it any wonder that incidents such as these were sowing seeds of resentment in me, and that the memory of this is still so clearly imprinted on my mind even after seventy years?

 

With no one at all to turn to for help and comfort when something like this happened, I had no choice but to cope with it all on my own and suffer in silence whatever punishments were meted out to me. As a young child I found this burden very hard to bear. The prolonged separation from my parents, and with no experience of family or home-life, this helped to make me feel unloved, immensely independent, and to a great extent independent of love. Looking back across the years, I believe that this hardened my attitude towards people in general, because I was well into my teens, before I felt able to express or experience the true meaning of the word ‘love’. Possibly because of these unpleasant experiences during the most formative years of my life, I turned my affections in another direction.

 

Throughout my life I have had an interest in nature and an affinity for all God’s creatures.

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Having seen so many animals suffering whilst in India, I have always had compassion for them. The satisfaction of being able to help or rescue an animal when given the opportunity has always been an immensely rewarding experience.

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Patricia and I dreaded the holidays because we had no one to stay with and no where to go. So sometimes when nothing could be arranged and there was no alternative, we had to spend them in the empty school in charge of a resentful teacher who had to stay there to look after us. This was of course before the days of television and there was nothing to amuse us.

 

Sometimes we were taken for a walk to collect dandelions to feed to our pet rabbit, or find a book to read or play a game of snakes and ladders, but the routine of our daily lives was inexpressively dull and boring.

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In term time we had a full daily routine which kept us occupied. Miss Swain was the headmistress in the 1930s with her assistant Miss Sowden. Clarendon offered each child an excellent education in a wide range of subjects, and many of the pupils upon leaving school went on to practice as doctors, nurses and teachers and other professions. In those days a large number of the pupils were daughters of missionaries working abroad with various missionary societies who were at that time   welcome in foreign countries.

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Music played a very important role in the school’s curriculum, especially as the very talented pianist Peggy Spencer-Palmer was in charge of musical education. She was a close friend of the famous pianist Myra Hess. Sometimes Miss Palmer would give us a piano recital which included one of her own compositions or conduct a sacred piece of music performed by the school choir. I had piano lessons with her for a while and although I passed some exams I couldn’t continue in any of my studies, because after war was declared in 1939, Patricia and I had to leave school to return to India with our mother who had come to England on a short visit to find out how we were progressing. She rented a house near by and we became day boarders, but I recall how strange this felt to have to adapt to family life once more and to have a mother to love us.

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Looking back, I realize that the harsh discipline, though greatly resented at the time, did instill in me a sense of self-discipline, which down through the years has been a source of help and support in my long life.  

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I have written more fully about my time at Clarendon in the book I published, using part of my maiden name, Justine Dowley-Wise, entitled “IN THOSE DAYS …A Scrapbook of Growing up in India in the Days of the Raj”, a copy of which I donated to Monkton’s school library.

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If you can locate it I hope you will find it an interesting read. I also have a web site for it at www.raj-memories.co,uk. and if any of you would like to e-mail me at billtowill@aol.com I shall be pleased to reply…..

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For those of you who have Kindle, you will also be able to read it there.

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I am in the process of completing writing my third book, “AROUND THE WORLD IN 85 YEARS”. Memories of travels with my husband Bill. Pamela Towill (nee Wise)

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