Hannah More, by Sue Purkiss
Apr. 18th, 2025 06:00 am![[syndicated profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/feed.png)
Twelve or so years ago, I started a creative writing class in Cheddar, where I live. I tried out several venues, one of which was a house owned by the Parish Council, named Hannah More Cottage. It's a pleasant looking old cottage with whitewashed walls, small windows and a pretty garden: the roof used to be thatched, but now it's tiled. Inside, there's a large room where meetings take place, and where, at the beginning of May, local artists exhibit as part of an annual - and very successful - arts trail. There's also a much smaller room, with book shelves and wooden settles on either side of a fireplace.
It's called after Hannah More because this is where, in 1789, she started a village school. Miss More (after reading about the sort of person she was, I think she would find it overly familiar of me to call her 'Hannah') was born in Bristol, but now lived in nearby Wrington. She was an experienced school teacher, having taught at a school her father had founded in Bristol, and also at schools in Somerset which she ran with her sisters. She was also a philanthropist and a poet, and wrote moral and religious tracts - which sold in large numbers: a series of tracts written in 1796 exhorted the poor 'to rely on virtues of contentment, sobriety, humility, industry, reverence for the British Constitution, hatred of the French, and trust in God and the kindness of the gentry' (Wikipedia) - but still managed to sell over two million copies.
She must have visited Cheddar and been horrified by the poverty she saw there, because she suggested to her friend William Willberforce MP (famous for championing the abolition of slavery) that he should go there and see the benighted state of the poor. Equally appalled, he agreed that something must be done, and offered to finance a school if Miss More would organise it. So, in 1789, the cottage was given a new thatched roof and presumably a lick of whitewash, and 140 children gathered to inaugurate her Sunday school. The part nearest the camera had formerly been an ox shed, but now became the classroom: the front section was a cottage, for the use of the headmistress, a Mrs Baker from Bristol. People complained about this radical idea of educating the poor, but she declared to the Bishop of Bath and Wells: her schools 'taught only 'such coarse works as may fit them [their charges] for servants. I allow no writing for the poor. My object is... to train up the lower classes in habits of industry and piety.' (Also Wikipedia.) School must have been a lot of fun.
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Hannah More Cottage |
Whatever it was like, the school was soon well established. When she died in 1833, she left £50 towards the cost of a new school in Cheddar, next to the cottage. The Marquis of Bath (whose family still own Cheddar Caves and part of Cheddar Gorge, as well as Longleat) contributed £100 and the rest of the cost was raised by public subscription. This became the National School, only finally closing in 1964, when the Kings of Wessex School opened.
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The National School, which followed on from Hannah More's Cottage. It's now been converted into flats. |
There is a reproduction of her portrait hanging in the cottage, and I used to look at it and think that she looked like a rather sweet, kindly old lady. Having read more about her, I'm not so sure about that. She was certainly extremely capable, but she was also quite formidable.
In her youth, she was engaged for six years to one William Turner. He finally broke the engagement, but agreed to compensate her by paying her an annuity of £200 a year for the rest of her life - and it was this that gave her the freedom to pursue her literary interests. She spent a good deal of time in London, meeting Samuel Johnson, Joshua Reynolds, Edmund Burke, David Garrick (who penned the forward to a play she wrote), and many others. She was anti-slavery, and she became a member of a group of literary women caleed the Bluestockings. But she wasn't a feminist. She refused to read Mary Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Women (1792), and turned down an offer of honorary membership of the Royal Society of Literature, seeing her 'sex alone as a disqualification.'
This is a very brief look at the life of someone who contributed enormously to the lives of many children, in Cheddar and in the other schools she founded with her sisters. Who knows how many lives were influenced by her? - and hopefully not only to become sevants.
She isn't the figure that, based on very little evidence, I had imagined. And this makes me think about the process of creating characters based on real historical figures. Suppose I had been thinking or writing a novel based on her life. (Full disclosure: I'm not.) I could write a book based on the things she did, the people she met and so on: I could make suppositions about how her broken engagement affected her and changed the course of her life.
But there would really be no way of knowing how close I had got to the truth, to the person she really was. And so would it be fair, to take what I know of her, and weave a story round that, knowing that, in all probability, she was a far less sympathetic character than the one I had created?
It's a tricky one.
(Apologies for the erratic font sizing. This seems to happen when you copy and paste quotes, and I've tried but failed to sort it out.)