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Sunday, 25 November 2012

ESAH Sunday Series: Dedham stories

Dr. Grimwood, headmaster of Dedham School,
thought to be by John Constable, painted
early in his career. 

Extracts from Edward Henry Lisle Reeve's Commonplace Book.
Dedham Stories
Antics at Dedham School

There is a good story told of Dr Grimwood the head master of Dedham School towards the close of the last [eighteenth] century.  He had heard complaints from his housekeeper that some of the boys had invented a most ingenious way of getting at the apples which she always kept – safely as she had hoped – under lock and key.  They would let down a small schoolfellow in a basket into the room by the chimney; and at a given signal from him, which he gave when the basket was loaded, they would pull up the golden store into the light of day.  When a sufficient quantity of fruit had been thus brought up from the mine, the boy himself would resume his seat in the basket and they would pull him up again to share in the repast which he had so materially assisted in obtaining.  The Dr, on hearing of this device, secreted himself one day in the apple chamber and waited for the event.  Soon a rumbling was heard in the chimney, and the basket steadily and surely descended with the small boy, whose dismay on seeing the Doctor may be more readily surmised than described.  Dr Grimwood in a stern voice bade him to be perfectly quiet, and informed him that he (the Doctor) himself would take the place of the apples on this occasion, and ordered the boy, after the delay allowed for loading the basket, to call to his comrades outside to pull up their booty as he was wont to do.  The Dr seated himself in the basket, the boy called as of yore that all was ready, and in obedience to a hearty tug on the basket its occupant was speedily in mid air and plunged into the darkness of the chimney.  On the boys pulled, with a will for they had felt that there was a larger share than usual of the good things, and we doubt not that they were considering what should be the need of the young adventurer for so faithfully executing the object to descent when suddenly, as they watched for the rosy cheeked apple to issue forth from the chimney top, to their dismay, they caught sight of the doctor’s wig and with a shriek they let go the rope, and the old gentleman was precipitated to his place of starting.

(Doubtless it was a warning to the boys, but what a shaking for the doctor!  And as he dropped hard upon the floor; so, no doubt, he dropped hard upon the boys when he did meet them again.)

A propos of school-masters, boys, and apples, there is a story of a boy who was caught by his master clambering over the wall dividing the playground from the master’s orchard, evidently with his mind intent on apples.  “Where are you going to, boy?” cried the Dr. in sonorous and awful tones.  “Back again, Sir”, replied the ready juvenile.

Mr Mules

Mr Mules of Dedham is a celebrity about whom volumes might be written.  Suffice it to say of his personal appearance that he was of any height you please over 6ft 4in, and broad across the chest in proportion.  Had you ever had the fortune to have been within a mile or so of him you would have remembered him with awe, for his voice would have probably have stunned you.  Not that it was disagreeable – it was melodious as a bell.  It was the terror as it was the admiration of the surrounding neighbourhood. 

He married a baronet’s widow – Lady Pilkington – and during the minority of her three daughters led the life of a true born Briton.  Mr Mules was formerly in medical practice at Dedham, and attended Sir E Pilkington in his last illness.  He kept two packs of hounds, and was the life of the district.

His vast proportions and dimensions while they raised him physically seem no less to have raised him mentally above his fellow men – at any rate in his own estimation.  One of his laments was that he was “surrounded by asses” an expression which has since become proverbial.  He walked about with an immense black stick, as thick as one’s arm, and was usually accompanied by a huge black dog. 

There is a story related to him which goes far to show his insight into human nature.  His garden was one night robbed of some of its choicest peas by some unknown hand, and over these the gardener, as was natural, made long and bitter lamentation.  No clue however could be found as to the thief, and time wore on.  One fine day the gardener again made his appearance to say that, as bad luck would have it, some plums had vanished as suddenly and as mysteriously as the peas.  Now, curiously enough, as on the day of the departure of the peas, there was to be a dinner party that evening, and Mr Mules began to smell a rat.  “That same rascal”, he said, “that stole the peas stole the plums also”.  And, looking at his watch, he gave the man warning to be off the premises in half-an-hour.

Out of the mouths of babes

It is related of Charles Manning of Dedham – neighbours of Capt. Reeve and his family were the Mannings – that he went out to dine somewhere with his mother when a small boy.  His master would seem to have been dilating upon the peculiarities of the people they were likely to meet with more freedom than judgement, for she was somewhat confused when, in the middle of the repast, her progeny turned to her and said, “Mamma, Mr Waly’s nose is not nearly as big as you said it was”. (Enfant terrible! Ed.)

Mr Constable

Mr Constable – brother of the renowned Suffolk artist [John Constable (1776 - 1837)] – though uneducated, and without the advantages of that celebrity yet shared his native talent, and it would show itself some times in his giving vent to sentiments and expressions a little out of the common.  One of his nieces complained that her little dog was always breaking loose from his chain and getting away, sometimes even following her to Church.  “Some-how or other he won’t be tied up” she said.  “If you hand him to me”, said the old gentleman, “I would tie him up that his hind legs did not touch the ground”.

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