Sanderson made his application for the headmastership of Oundle at an unusually favourable¹ time. There were several men of exceptional enlightenment and intelligence upon the governing body of the school, and they were resolved to modernise² Oundle thoroughly³ and well. To the innovators the very unorthodoxy of Sanderson's upbringing and qualifications was a recommendation, to their opponents they made him a shocking[Pg 34] candidate, and the Grocers' Company was rent in twain over his application. It requires a little effort nowadays for us to understand just how undesirable⁴ a candidate this spectacled young man from Dulwich must have appeared to many of the older and riper 'grocers.'  
In the first place he was not in holy orders, and it was a fixed⁵ belief of many people—in spite of the fact that few of the clerically-ruled English public schools of that time could be described as hotbeds of chastity—that only clergymen in holy orders could maintain a satisfactory moral and religious tone. On the other hand, he had been a distinguished⁶ theological student. That, however, might involve heresy⁷; English people have an instinctive⁸ perception of the corrosive⁹ effect of knowledge and intelligence upon sound dogma. Then he was not a public-school boy, and this might involve a loss of social atmosphere more important even than religion or morals. The almost natural grace of deportment that has endeared the English traveller and the English official to the foreigner, and particularly to the subject-races throughout the world, might fail under his direction. Moreover, he was no [Pg 35]cricketer. He had no athletic¹⁰ distinction; a terrible come-down after the Rev¹¹. H. St. J. Reade. These were all grave considerations in those days. Against them weighed the growing dread¹² of German efficiency that was already spreading a wholesome¹³ modesty¹⁴ throughout the commercial world of Britain. This young man from Dulwich might bring to Oundle, it was thought, the base but valuable gifts of technical science. And there was apparent in him a liveliness and energy uncommon¹⁵ among scholastic¹⁶ applicants¹⁷. His seemed to be a bracing¹⁸ personality, and Oundle was in serious need of a bracing régime. The members who liked him liked him warmly, and he roused prejudices as warm; feeling seems to have run high at the decision, and he was appointed by a majority of one.
 
 
 
The little world of Oundle heard of the new appointment with mixed and various feelings, in which there was no doubt a considerable amount of resentment¹⁹. No man becomes headmaster of an established school without facing many difficulties. If he is promoted from among the staff of his predecessor²⁰ old disputes and rivalries²¹ are apt to take on an exaggerated importance, and if[Pg 36] he comes in from outside he finds a staff disposed to a meticulous²² defence of established usage. And the young couple from Dulwich came to the place in direct condemnation²³ of its current condition and its best traditions. There can be no doubt that at the outset the school and town bristled²⁴ defensively and unpleasantly to the new-comers.
 
In one respect the old educational order had a great advantage over the new that Sanderson was to inaugurate. It had a completed tradition, and it provided the standards by which the new was tried. Whatever it taught was held to be necessary to education, and all that it did not know was not knowledge. By such tests the equipment of Sanderson was exhibited as both defective²⁵ and superfluous²⁶. Moreover, the new system was confessedly undeveloped and experimental. It could not be denied that Sanderson might be making blunders, and that he might have to retrace²⁷ his steps. People had been teaching the classics for three centuries; the routine had become so mechanical that it was done best by men who were intellectually and morally half asleep. It led to nothing; except in very exceptional cases it[Pg 37] did not even lead to a competent use of either the Latin or Greek languages; it involved no intelligent realisation of history, it detached the idea of philosophy from current life, and it produced the dreariest²⁸ artistic²⁹ Philistinism, but there was a universal persuasion³⁰ that in some mystical way it educated. The methods of teaching science, on the other hand, were still in the experimental stage, and had still to convince the world that even at the lowest levels of failure they constituted a highly beneficent discipline.
 
I do not propose to disentangle here the story of Sanderson's first seven years of difficulty. He found the school and the town sullen³¹ and hostile, and he was young, eager, and irascible. The older boys had all been promoted upon classical qualifications, they were saturated³² with the old public-school tradition that Sanderson had come to destroy, and behind them were various members of a hostile and resentful staff inciting³³ them to obstruction³⁴ and mischief³⁵. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Sanderson was old enough or wise enough to disregard slights or to ignore mere³⁶ gestures of hostility³⁷.
 
Reminiscences of old boys in the official life[Pg 38] give us glimpses of the way in which the old order fought against the new. Everything was done to emphasise³⁸ the fact that Sanderson was 'no gentleman,' 'no sportsman,' 'no cricketer,' 'no scholar.' It is the dearest delusion³⁹ of snobs⁴⁰ everywhere that able men who have made their way in the world are incapable⁴¹ of acquiring a valet's knowledge of what is correct in dress and deportment, and the dark legend was spread that he wore a flannel⁴² shirt with a sort of false front called a 'dicky' and detachable cuffs⁴³, in place of the evening shirt of the genteel. Moreover, his dress tie was reported to be a made-up tie. Unless he is to undress in public I do not see how a man under suspicion is to rebut⁴⁴ such sinister⁴⁵ scandals. The boys, with the help and encouragement of several members of the staff, made up a satirical play full of the puns and classical tags and ancient venerable turns of humour usual in such compositions, against this Barbarian⁴⁶ invader⁴⁷ and his new laboratories. It was the mock trial of an incendiary found trying to burn down the new laboratories. It was 'full of envenomed and insulting references' to all the new headmaster was supposed to hold dear. Finally it[Pg 39] was rehearsed before him. He sat brooding over it thoughtfully, as shaft⁴⁹ after shaft was launched against him. 'It didn't seem so funny then,' said my informant, 'as it had done when we prepared it.' It went to a 'ragged⁵⁰ and unconvinced applause.' At the end 'came a pause—a stillness that could be felt.' The headmaster sat with downcast face, thinking.
 
I suppose he was chiefly busy reckoning how soon he would be rid of this hostile generation of elder boys. They had to go. It was a pity, but nothing was to be done with them. The school had to grow out of them, as it had to grow out of its disloyal staff.
 
He rose slowly in his seat. 'Boys, we will regard this as the final performance,' he said, and departed thoughtfully, making no further comment. He took no action in the matter, attempted neither reproof⁵¹ nor punishment. He dropped the matter with a magnificent contempt. And, says the old boy who tells the story, from that time the spirit of the school seemed to change in his favour. The old order had discharged its venom⁴⁸. The boys began to realise the true value of the[Pg 40] forces of spite and indolent obstructiveness with which their youth was in alliance.