Rectory Lane Cemetery, Berkhamsted

John Robert Crawford (x138a) ?

1817 –18/07/1863

Headmaster of Berkhamsted School and published poet

REV. JOHN ROBERT CRAWFORD; 1817 – 1863

John was appointed as the twentieth headmaster of Berkhamsted School following the resignation of his predecessor, Edward Wilcocks. Wilcocks had been headmaster for nine years and he left Berkhamsted early in 1850 upon inheriting an estate that had belonged to a cousin of his in Fowey, Cornwall.[1]

At this time, the appointment of the headmaster was subject to the approval of the Prime Minister, then Lord Russell, acting on behalf of the Crown.[2] There were several candidates, but John had the influential backing of the Prime Minister’s brother, who lobbied on John’s behalf. John, at the age of 33 years, was duly appointed as Headmaster on 22^nd July 1850.[3]

His father was John Garrett Fisher Crawford a captain in the Bombay Marine[4] and John was born in 1817 at the Portuguese settlement of Macau. He was the eldest surviving child of six children[5] born to Captain Crawford and his wife Frances (née Solloway). John was sent to school at Rugby, where, under the headmastership of Dr Arnold, he did well academically. He went up to Lincoln College, Oxford, as a Scholar, but disappointed both his father and Dr Arnold in achieving only a second in classics and a third in mathematics.[6] His disappointing results were attributed to his love of languages, as much of his time was spent studying Hebrew, Arabic and Syriac.

Like many Victorian school masters, John took holy orders and in 1843 he became the headmaster of Western Grammar School, Brompton. Whilst at Brompton, in 1844, he married Harriet Walford Hobbes, the daughter of a solicitor, at the Holy Trinity church in Stratford upon Avon.[7] John and Harriet were to have twelve children.[8]

John seems to have had a congenial and attractive personality. He got on well with the rector of St Peter’s, Rev. James Hutcheson, particularly in connection with the establishment of the Mechanic’s Institute, which both men supported. Henry Nash wrote that John “…won the respect and esteem of all who made his acquaintance.” He was “…gifted with a large store of useful knowledge, and it appeared to be his chief delight to impart it to others. His genial and unaffected manner made him a great favourite… There was an entire absence of that conscious superiority so conspicuous in men of great ability; he combined the wisdom of the sage with the vivacity of youth.”[9]

John also had literary talents, the author of a “…little poetical gem…”[10] entitled “An Historical Reverie on the Old Castle.” The poem, dedicated to the Hon. General Finch, is set in Berkhamsted Castle. It opens with the following lines:

“I sit alone upon the Castle-mound,

And muse in silence on its slow decay;

A tranquil melancholy reigns around,

And o’er my sole asserts its thoughtful sway.

The Castle’s old magnificence is gone,

Yet comely grace is blended with decay;

Green ivy crowns each rugged mass of stone,

And verdant shrubs bedeck the ruins grey.” 

Memories of former pupils give us a picture of John and the school under his headmastership from the perspective of his students. One, recalling games played at the time, remembered John’s enthusiastic participation in rugby games.

“Our head never deemed it infra dig to occasionally drop the somewhat austere master and join in our sports as a boy again.”

“…at football, the school-house, with Mr Crawford as its leader frequently played against the rest of the boys. Oh! Sporting memory of an athletic Dominie! How well I picture him in the hottest charges and wildest rushes, set upon by three or four of the biggest of his opponents, yet sending them spinning to right and left under old Rugby rules.”[11]

Another old boy wrote of the lessons conducted in the school hall:

“At this time the classes were held in the big schoolroom; Mr Crawford presided at the west end, commanding with an awful eye the whole of the scene, and not infrequently rolling out some Greek or Latin periods in a voice which resounded terribly through the awestruck room. At the opposite end of the hall sat Mr F. B. Harvey – the Usher as he was then called, a genial, capable master administering commendation, rebuke, or even the cane itself, with equal good temper, not unmingled with jocosity. Lastly. Mr Jackson and the French Master, M. D’Armandville, had desks on the north side and sat surrounded by their pupils. M. D’Armandville was shortly afterwards succeeded by Herr Werbuert, an excellent master, who was, I fear, sadly plagued by his classes .”[12]

Discipline was strict and enforced by liberal use of the cane.

“In our days caning was a widely distributed mode of punishment exercised without respect of persons…and of daily practice. To be caned, at least on the open palm, became no disgrace at all… Trivial offences met with constantly recurring and trivial cuts from the cane until there was neither pain nor shame felt; it was purely a mechanical process; whilst very severe floggings seemed to be too common and often made one’s blood boil at the sharp blows on the one part and the dogged endurance on the other.”[13]

Although when John first joined the school there was an increase in the number of pupils, mainly due to his bringing with him a number of boys from his former school at Brompton, the numbers subsequently dropped to below 50 in 1854 and school lists from 1859-63 show totals of between 49 and 54,[14] “…a clear indication of a lack of success.”[15] In addition, there was a failure to hold on to those pupils the school did attract and it was reported by a School Inspector in 1868 that no boy had gone direct to University from the school in the six years preceding 1864. One of the former pupils quoted above commented on this problem.

“The drawback of the school was undoubtedly, in those days, the lack of inducements whereby boys could be kept in it until ready to go up to the Universities or otherwise be launched out onto the bigger world…Not until a lad is past 16 does he generally begin to see the use of school life as a place for training character, or settle down as an encourager and ‘monitor’ of others… This is what Berkhamsted, at the time I refer to, lacked and no one realised it more than Mr Crawford.”[16]

Attempts were made to improve the situation. In 1862 proposals were made to the Charity Commissioners to increase the number of boarders. Free education was to be provided only to the sons of people resident in Berkhamsted and the rest should pay £ 5 a term for tuition. Boarding accommodation should be provided for 100 boys. The Charity Commissioners were not unsympathetic to the proposed scheme, but nothing practical had been achieved when John died at the end of the summer term of 1863.[17]

John, although relatively young when appointed to the headship, only held office for 13 years, dying at the age of 46 years. His later years were beset by ill health. One of the old boys quoted above wrote of his leaving the school at midsummer 1863 and he paints a sad picture of John.

“The day before I left was a glorious Midsummer day, and the dear old master sat in his invalid chair under the shade of the great acacia facing the school-house. He was wan, weak and emaciated; nothing remained of his former vigour but the light in his lustrous deep-set eyes, surrounded by dark circles, telling of suffering and disease.”[18]

Within a month John had died.

Garnons Williams, a later headmaster of the school, was not flattering in his evaluation of the school under John’s tenure as head.

“The picture one gets of the school in the Crawford era is of a not very flourishing institution, of less than maximum efficiency, and one suffering in his later years from the ill-health of the Headmaster, who in spite of his amiability and intellectual and cultural distinction had become an ineffective and rather pathetic figure.”

However, shortly before he died John had appealed to the second Earl Brownlow, at Ashridge, for help. The Earl, who had just come of age, sent a favourable reply. Handing the letter “…to his loyal and faithful colleague, Mr Harvey” John observed, ‘It is too late for me – one sows, another reaps.”[19] Brownlow himself lived for only another four years. “Neither suppliant or benefactor was destined to see the results of this exchange of letters, which contributed materially to developments which were to surpass their wildest dreams.”[20]

John was commemorated by the installation of a stained-glass window in the St John Chantry in St Peter’s Church. The window, designed by the Victorian stained-glass firm of Heaton & Butler, aptly depicts the parable of the Sower and Jesus as the Good Shepherd.