CHAPTER II
CHARLTON COURT
Charlton Court was Elizabethan; a beautiful house with great distinctive Tudor chimneys. It had fine grounds, a farm, stable-block, kitchen garden and a paddock. It stood on high ground above the Kentish Weald surrounded by cultivated country with hop gardens, fields and oak copses that were massed each year with spring flowers: here was space and air and light undreamed of by those young Londoners.
At the start there were forty children, the oldest about twelve, and the youngest eighteen months. They must, adults and children alike, have lived a fairly spartan life with no light except oil lamps and candles and the only heating from fires. The nearest station was five miles away at Headcorn and the only transport, except possibly bicycles, was horse and cart or pony and trap. It must have been a tremendous experience, to say the least, for those children, most of whom had never been away from home and a great city.
As a small child I went on many visits to Charlton Court, as I had an aunt, Ruth Rowson, who was working there. She was a professionally trained artist but like others of her generation had been caught up in the current fervent climate of social reform and change, and who had done little painting when she met Leila Rendel busily sticking and addressing envelopes at the Webb's National Committee. She had a great liking for children as well as for painting and was very soon helping every day at the Nursery School. She went with Phyllis Potter and Leila Rendel to Kent and remained with or connected with the Community till the day of her death more than fifty years later.
To this day I can remember those visits: Charlton was, to me, like some earthly paradise. I was entirely and completely happy from the time that I got up in the morning and ate porridge and bread and margarine, washed down by mugs of cocoa at long trestle tables in the dining room to the time that I was taken upstairs exhausted, but satisfied, to sleep on a camp bed in my aunt's tiny room under the roof.
It is difficult in these infinitely more sophisticated times, when children seem to have every toy that man can devise, to give the extraordinary flavour of those days: but for me then, they held unimagined delights: there was the farm with its cows, pigs, hens, and in charge of a gentle sympathetic woman who must have had a great liking for children too: there was often a walk with two goats who were taken out on long chains and as I was dragged unresistingly along by a titanic great grey nanny-goat I could experience no greater bliss: but then there were those drives through the Kentish lanes in a pony trap with a fat old pony and life seemed even more felicitous.
I was charmed by Phyllis Potter, with her beautiful speaking and singing voice, her air of regality and what I realised even then, her kindness and deep interest in a child. I found Leila Rendel very large and imposing but kind too, although I was much more interested in her huge black dog "Cree" who once, under my very eyes, took a pound of butter off a table and like some enormous whale swallowed it at one gulp: it was the equivalent of my 'dining-out' story for a very long time.
There was all that life among the children going on too and although there was a good deal of what, in my eyes, was pretty rough behaviour and much noise, I was not an only child and was accustomed to family life at home so was not unduly disturbed by what I grew to look upon as really rather interesting and exciting conduct, as long as I was not too involved. I enjoyed the crowd, the variety; watching the weaving, out in a shed; then there was something known as "Chapel" on Sunday which I thought very beautiful: especially the blue carpet and the candles and there was Kathleen Syer, who was a friend of my aunt's at the harmonium and Phyllis Potter leading the singing with that lovely voice and later telling a story in such a way that it was impossible not to listen. I had never experienced anything like this life before and I thought it wonderful.
Later my aunt moved out of that stuffy little attic bedroom and had a room in an old farmhouse a mile down the road. I stayed there on subsequent visits and went up to Charlton with her every morning for the day.
Perhaps the very peak of my experience was reached one snowy January morning when I got up by candlelight and the farmer drove us up to Charlton in his high-wheeled dog-cart. I felt it was the most exciting moment of my life, as wrapped up to the eyes in a great rug, the cold with its sharp sweet smell hitting us as we bowled along the white road behind that spanking horse through the wide white landscape with the strange blue light from the snow on everything; and when we arrived at Charlton we were driven right up to the front door and Miss Potter opened it and I felt the warmth coming out and smelt the porridge and cocoa and I knew I should never forget it: indeed the memory of such an experience, so clear, so vivid, so intensely beautiful even to the eyes and sensibilities of a six year old child can become part of the very fabric of life as it did of mine.
Those visits to Charlton were forever bathed in a golden Arcadian light for me but others were happy there too, although they were not on holiday as I was: perhaps the adults of that early Community possessed the art of making children happy and it was not for nothing that, along the wall of the Cartwright Gardens' Nursery school, written large and clear on a strip of brown paper, were the words, "the days that make us happy make us wise", a rather portentous statement perhaps but it would have been a revolutionary one in many a Victorian nursery where no such idea would have been upheld - children who were first wise and good then reaped their just reward in happiness.
All this experience at Charlton then, was mine as a child; now let someone who went on the staff as a young woman, by the name of Roma Easton and who remained at the Community for over forty years, tell what she found there.
"I first joined the Community in 1923 having been briefed in London by Miss Potter as to my duties with the Nursery Children and also the part I was expected to play in the wider life at Charlton Court. I had had some experience of Day Nurseries in the Hoxton slums and had had a training, so I thought I might manage the first but was doubtful as to the latter.
"My first impression of Charlton was that life was just a haphazard hubbub: how anything got done I just could not see. There appeared to be no cook, yet we had meals: you never knew whose job it was to get the children up in the morning but they were there for breakfast: it was not clear who was to put them to bed: it might have been your job for the moment but someone had forgotten to tell you. It was later that I found out that there really were not enough staff so that a good deal of doubling-up was necessary, so after finishing with the nursery children in the evening, I had any job which needed doing anywhere; everyone else did this too.
"We all worked very hard and for long hours but very happily during the week. Sunday came as a complete change. The children were all scrubbed clean and with fresh clothes and perhaps something new to wear, and they liked the day, with more time to please themselves (not always advantage of the countryside and farmers in particular).
"The Chapel was a cared-for and loved place converted from an old farm building and from its roof hung the sweet-toned bell which rang for the Morning Service. There was an historic day when March, the lively cow from the farm, got into the Chapel and ate the Harvest Festival. Years later at Goff's Oak the fan-tailed pigeons went in, followed by the cat, followed by Miss Potter. Squealing baby pigs also found their way in.
"It took me at least a year to find out what everything was about. There was first the children, all under fourteen, who came from the back streets of Kings Cross. They were a hurly-burly lot - uncouth, uncultured, often lying, stealing, fighting and rebelling or destroying: some were fond and gentle yet all were so alive, so responsive and loveable; many of them gave great care to the younger ones.
"Then there was Phyllis Potter and Leila Rendel who became known as the "Directors"; they had had the vision to start it all and with them some ten others who stand out in memory as a band of able and devoted women whose concern was the development and welfare of the children in their care; they were dedicated and loyal; and how they enjoyed it all!
"Because of this it had been possible to create a pattern for the Community: everyone was aware of what was going on and it became natural that certain children became attached to certain staff who in their turn became their special caretaker, a refuge to whom they could always go for protection and encouragement and a fair judgment; there was no sloppy sentimentalism but a very practical relationship often lasting long after the child had left.
"I do not know who first thought of the Sunday evening sing-song but at this time, except for Chapel it was the one formal event of the week.
"The children had to behave at it and indeed wanted to, for under Miss Potter's hand and with her lovely singing voice and dramatic ability, it flourished and was an outstanding event. Some of the staff could tell spellbinding stories; Miss Leila, as she was known, often read poetry and the children did as much as they could - acting stories, singing and dancing.
"At the end of the Sunday sing-song each child had to get up from the floor, where they had been sitting, and walk out by themselves to music specially played for each child. Some could not manage this: some ran, some progressed sideways, some lay on the floor and some could not even start. But when they had eventually learned to walk out properly and acquired a poise and dignity which undoubtedly helped towards the self discipline so necessary for these children.
"But life at this "special" sort of school was not always noisy and endless discussions went on about how best to deal with the many and endless problems. The children had a wide variety of occupations offered them outside school hours: there was the farm work, helping in the garden, the kitchen, weaving, handicrafts and there was carpentry for the boys.
"The "crimes" committed were trivial by today's standards, yet were quite bad enough and the farmers round made many complaints; but most things were settled and atoned for by the wilder members: meanwhile the garden cat, Rusty, had her kittens, for safety's sake, up the potting-shed chimney.
"There were ever-present financial worries. A meeting was held at one time and Miss Potter asked those of us who received salaries if we could manage on less. I had £56 a year and thought not.
"It was suggested that there should be fewer staff and that groups of children should be combined; all this was turned down and we went on as before.
"Somehow poverty seemed to unite us yet more strongly: what did it matter if most of the cups were broken and there was no money for more: no one minded using a bowl for tea at breakfast and later using it for porridge. What mattered was that the Community should survive, not that there should be a cup and saucer and bowl for everyone at breakfast.
"Some of the duties referred to me as the "wider life" were not carried out very successfully as far as I was concerned.
"There was for instance, the first Sunday afternoon walk: the children tended to unite in a rampaging gang when not with anyone who could manage them. I knew no names or anything about the country round. Some thirty children were collected for me and I was told that the older ones among them would lead the walk for me; which they did; straight into a wood where they became primitive man dividing into gangs and it ended in a fierce and literally bloody battle.
"Knowing no names I could only shout "Hi! You!" naturally with no result. Grabbing the two nearest I dragged them out of the wood, the rest followed later dishevelled and dirty. One little girl had taken all her clothes off but put them on again after much shouting at her.
"I arrived back with one child and was thankful to have at least that one. There was an almighty inquest on the afternoon's happenings but what followed I cannot remember but I only know that the next time I had to take a walk there were no incidents.
"Another aspect of the "wider life" was "taking tea". This was done for a week at a time. The first time I took this meal there was uproar until one of the older girls suddenly leapt across the room to the most unruly table, administered slaps all round, re-distributed the plates of food and said a "few words", - there followed a wonderful hush.
"I have too a picture in my mind of Miss Potter taking Nursery Prayers out on the lawn one sunny morning and can see those small children standing in a circle singing a hymn, interrupted at intervals by a rough voice shouting "Ring-a-ring-a-roses, all fall down!" and he fell: he was stood up, but fell again at once, still shouting. Up and down he went until it was like a game of skittles: even Miss Potter's eye did not have the usual effect.
"Other pictures come to my mind - a small boy spending his "free" afternoon tethered to a gooseberry bush from which he had previously stolen all the unripe gooseberries: a small girl of two who had been so impossibly grumpy that she was finally wheeled in her pram into the field and left by herself under a large oak tree and was later seen laughing and chuckling to herself at the cows who had come over to see who was in their field; with the cows blowing and chewing around her and a wood-pecker drumming overhead she had recovered. On another occasion one very wet day one child had become so impossible that she was finally put into a mackintosh and turned outside where she was seen playing in the storm, poking into the puddles with a stick and shaking more water on to herself from the bushes. She returned from her drenching, a changed child and quite happy again.
"Those times spent by themselves often seemed to release the tension in the children concerned, and "isolation" for a period of time was carried on in the tradition of the Community.
"There was too, the "Battle of the Boots". If a child was sent to bed for some misdemeanour he was very likely to protest at the removal of any garment, but the moment his boots came off he subsided. I can hear Miss Leila saying now, “Quick, off with his boots!"
"I feel I have not been able to convey the real essence of those days, more than fifty years ago now. There was the sense of enjoyable, unconventional experiment; the fun, the unity, the hard work, the pleasures and also the exhaustion and depression that could overwhelm one at times; but there was the wonderful way in which Miss Potter would suddenly arrange an evening picnic in the hayfield, or an outing, an entertainment; sweeping everyone along with her enthusiasm ignoring all obstacles.
"The staff of the time were gifted with vivid personalities: they did not consider themselves at all. While reason and affection were the first principles in dealing with the children we had then, we had to be able to shout at them, shake them perhaps, and more; it was what they understood, it was the language of the streets from which they came and it was no use expecting too much of their understanding too soon. The hope was that something had been planted in them which would blossom in the years to come."
Another young woman, Winifred Vaizey, also sent to Charlton, first on a visit in the Summer Term of 1919; then returned in September to teach a group of five to seven year olds. She also "took" walks and recalls some hoppers from the East End of London and in Kent for the annual hop-picking, running out of their huts and pressing pennies into the Caldecott children's hands. One hopper brought a baby to Charlton one day, "It seemed very poorly and sick but all it needed was a good bath."
She gives an account of an "Assembly" which took place every Saturday morning.
"Staff and children assembled in either the dining-room or the large playroom for a sort of "parliament". Any child could voice a complaint. This parliament seemed a very good way of securing co-operation and developing a responsible outlook in the Community and it was a "Community" very obviously then but small enough to be like a big family.
"Every adult had a small child who shared their room. I had "Zeppa" a dark curly-haired four year old Italian, a most attractive child".
All the children then at Charlton were taught on the premises except for a twelve year old boy who walked the two miles daily to what was then the Sutton Valence Grammar School.
In January 1920 another young woman, Daisy Campbell, joined the Charlton staff. She was the sister of a doctor, Jessie Maxwell, whose husband later became Chairman of the Prison Commission and had a good deal to do with the Community; he was to become a great friend of Leila Rendel. She had known the Campbell family in Scotland for some years and she used Dr. Maxwell for medical inspections of the children in those early days.
Daisy Campbell writes:
"January 1920 was my first meeting with Miss Rendel. I was helping my sister at her home in Highgate with her seven-month old baby when Leila called about the medical inspection of the Caldecott children. She suddenly said "Will you come and join us?" My sister said, "Yes, do go, they are a delightful set of people and wear such lovely embroidered overalls." I remained silent but by April of that year I found myself at Charlton Court.
"My first job was to look after the "babies" in the garden and at the same time to mend thirty pairs of stockings. I imagine I filled in the holes but I was never very adept with the needle.
"The Directors (Phyllis Potter and Leila Rendel) seemed vague about expense - groceries from the Sutton Valence Stores were ordered (often luxuries to me) the children's clothes seemed of good material.
"Leila and Phyllis Potter were a charming couple, so different in many ways but each complemented the other. I remember Miss Potter's carrot soup: delicious - but not so her broad bean sandwiches.
"By 9.30 a.m., after housework, school began and before long I was involved with Latin and Maths for a boy and a girl who were shortly to go to another boarding school. Many of the children I met there were from the old St. Pancras days.
"In school I remember a class below the "middle" school, being taught on the Froebel system and me upstairs working on the Dalton scheme.
"I walked with Miss Hughes, who ran the farm, to Headcorn station at four o'clock one morning to bring back a new cow that was arriving by train: we drove the cow back - two women, one stick and one rope, and eight miles walked, there and back."
So life at Charlton Court went on: experimental and exhausting at times, as Roma Easton has said; but there is no doubt that it was always interesting, often exciting, amusing and stimulating to be there: no one ever seemed to know where the next penny was coming from: bills were often left unpaid for a long time and the staff must often have wondered if they would receive any salary at all. Some of the staff had a little private money of their own and others had none. There were no grants in those days, no local authority fees and the Community lived on what was given it: the children's parents contributed very little, if anything.
But the food, though plain was nourishing and in the summer there was plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables from the kitchen garden. Much of that heavy, but undoubtedly sustaining cocoa was drunk, as it was to be for a great many years in the history of the Community.
Sir Wilfred Stokes, who was the Hon. Treasurer while it was at Charlton, wrote in a small pamphlet that was published that, "It must not be thought that there is any tendency to turn the children into young ladies or young gentlemen. There are no luxuries. All share in scrubbing and other housework, and it is never forgotten that education is a preparation for a life of toil."
This seems a dreary outlook and the aims of the education given at Charlton would surely never have been expressed in such words by either of the founders of the Community. The aims of the original Nursery School after all had been to "awaken in the children an independence of spirit" and "a joyousness of life"; there was no mention of "toil", anymore than there would be today.
It was very much a "community", ideas, talents, work all shared; but it is an astonishing fact that all the domestic work in the house was done by women who had probably never touched either a broom or a duster before they came to Charlton. There seems to have been no hierarchy then, although Phyllis Potter was evidently very much in command. She was a natural leader with a warmth of personality and a tremendous sense of drama; the disciplining of others was not a problem to her; she expected to be obeyed and was: the rules moreover were simple and the numbers of children still under fifty.
By today's standards the life of the Community at Charlton Court would no doubt seem unprofessional and amateurish, which, of course, it was but the staff were young and enthusiastic and their prime concern was with the care of the children, not whether they were earning enough money or gaining the right experience; they were undaunted by the lack of money or comforts but despite the lack of any experience, other than their own on which to build, the foundations had been well and truly laid for the continued existence of the Caldecott Community, but on a scale far greater and more ambitious; undreamed of by anyone.