A little book on “Sheriff Watson of Aberdeen,” just published in the northern city, reminds us of the fact, possibly little known, that he was the founder of industrial schools. Mr William Watson, who was a W.S., was the resident Sheriff-substitute at Aberdeen for the long period of thirty-seven years, from 1829 to 1866. He retired in the latter year, being succeeded by the young and brilliant John Comrie Williamson. An Aberdeen newspaper man of the period has declared in a volume of reminiscences that “It may with every fairness be noted that Mr Watson earned higher place for philanthropic efforts among the poor than in his judicial capacity on the bench." A hard saying mayhap, and yet carrying with it a just measure of praise. It is inforcebially borne out by the book mentioned, which is written by the 'Sheriff’s granddaughter, Miss Marion Angus, and bears the sub title, “The Story of his Life, and his Work for the Young.” The judicial side of the Sheriff’s career receives scant notice compared to the space devoted to his reformatory work.

Aberdeen in the “Thirties.”

That reformatory work was needed, especially amongst the young, is only too evident from the extracts from Sheriff Watson’s diary and letters here given. The picture he presents of the Aberdeen of his day is very far from a pleasing one—only Aberdeen was perhaps no worse than other big cities at the time, when philanthropy was not so prominent as it is to-day and social reform was unknown. The Sheriff laments the scene on New Year’s Day—“old and middle-aged men and women and boys and girls rolling about in a state of intoxication at two o’clock.” The poor, he declares, were in a state of great destitution, and sympathy with them and their distress was badly lacking. A new Police Act had created a number of new crimes, and men, women and children were sent to jail for trifling offences—“the effect of which was to taint the character without reforming the morals, and render it extremely difficult for them to find respectable employment in the future.” Juvenile mendicancy and theft were rampant. “There are 280 children here,” wrote the Sheriff, “under 14 years of age who have no means of subsisting but by begging and stealing”; in one year no fewer than 43 children were sent to prison for some offence or other. The deplorable condition of things thus depicted is unfortunately only too well corroborated from other sources. A leading temperance reformer, writing reminiscently of this period, has left on record that there were 870 public-houses for a population of less than 60.000, or one licensed house to every 66 inhabitants, adding significantly that “juvenile crime was notorious.” The imperative need of attempting some improvement, particularly in the direction of preventing young people from clipping into criminal ways, seems to have been ever present to the mind of Sheriff Watson, who was not omy a Liberal reformer in politics, but had wide and enlightened views as to social reform and was a deeply religious man to boot. “I am not speaking slightingly of your prison work,” he once said, to a lady prison visitor, “but, believe me, there is more profitable labour in preventing young girls from becoming criminals than in labouring in the expectation of converting those hardened to crime.”

The Original Ragged School.

Sheriff Watson's reforming zeal found expression first in the establishment, in 1831. of a Board of Health in the city, which before long had to cope with an epidemic of cholera. Then, in September, 1836, he succeeded in getting a House of Refuge for the friendless and destitute opened in the Guestrow. A Dr Watt, who had lost an only son from the cholera, gave £1000 towards its establishment. This generous donation lent impetus to a public subscription, by means of which £3000 was raised, and annual contributions to the amount of £130 were promised, and by the beginning of the “forties” the House of Refuge was in a fairly flourishing condition. Sheriff Watson’s next move was to set up an industrial school for young boys. The school was opened in a small room in Chronicle Lane on October 1, 1841. Ten boys were “inveighed in” and set to teasing hair, being promised breakfast, dinner, and supper in return for their work, and allowed to go home at night. Making salmon nets was added to their employment, and they were taught to read and write. This, then, was the first industrial school in Scotland, or “ragged school,” as institutions of this kind were originally called. Dr Thomas Guthrie used to be commonly styled “the father of ragged schools.” owing, no doubt, to his famous “Plea for Ragged Schools.” The “Plea.” however, did not appear till 1847, and the first ragged school in Edinburgh was started only in 1845. The prioritv of Sheriff Watson’s school is therefore undoubted, and was thus insisted upon by Lord Cockburn in his “Memorials”— “Let it never be forgotten that the introduction of those institutions into Scotland was the work of William Watson. He created and got one maintained for years without a single imitation.”

Sheriff Watson’s School.

The school—set agoing and for long maintained by voluntary subscriptions—proved exceedingly successful, despite occasional opposition on the part of parents, who, however, readily enough acquiesced in the attendance of their children on learning that they were being fed as well as educated. A female industrial school was inaugurated in 1843, controlled by a committee of management composed of ladies belonging to both the Established and the Free Churches. Unfortunately the discord created by the Disruption led to a split, and the two schools being set up identified with the two denominations respectively.

The Established Church school was for many years located in North Lodge, King Street. The Free Church section had to provide a new school, which was built in Skene Street and was for long known simply as "Sheriff Watson’s School.” All these schools have now disappeared since industrial schools have come under Governmental control, being merged in two institutions—a reformatory for boys and an industrial school for girls. Before that happened, however, voluntary industrial schools had been established in various Scottish cities, Sheriff Watson’s advice being generally sought beforehand.

A Visit from Thackeray.

Sheriff Watson’s own schools were frequently visited by people more or less eminent. The visitors included Thackeray when he was in Aberdeen in 1856 lecturing on "The Four Georges.” and the Sheriff’s diary has this rather extraordinary account of the great novelist’s visit to the schools: —

I asked him (Thackeray) to go to Sugarhouse Lane to see the Juvenile Industrial. As a piece of vanity, I took with me a volume of his works to show that the children could read at sight any ordinary book. A boy had hardly read a sentence when the great man said fiercely, "You should not put satirical books into the hands of children.” "People who think so," I replied, "should not write satirical books.”

The examination continued, but when I attempted to speak to him he, as I thought at the time, somewhat rudely turned away. I therefore said. "There are several more industrial schools, but they are all conducted on a similar plan, and perhaps you have seen enough.” "No.” he answered peremptorily; "I shall see every one of them.” We got into the cab. and on our way to the boy's school the conversation turned on his being a candidate for some vacant borough in England, when he gave me a smart clap on the thigh, saving, "You are doing more good than all the numbers of Parliament in Great Britain.”

We visited the Guestrow School, where he admired the activity of the boys in net-making, and the girls’ school, where the girls sang very nicely: and when about to leave it I said. "There is another school, but it is newly built and there is nothing old or interesting about it.” He insisted on going, and when we got to “Sheriff Watson’s School” it was the children’s dinner-hour, and they were all about to assemble in the dining-room. I asked Miss Nicholson, one of the ladies’ committee, what the children were to have. "Pea soup.” “You should not give them that often.” said Thackeray: "it is too heating." "Ah! yon don’t consider the price of potatoes,” said I. "What!” exclaimed the novelist. "are potatoes so dear?” Then, taking a large bunch of notes from his pocket, he handed one to Miss Nicholson. saying "That will help to buy some.” He put them back again, and again drew them out and presented another, with "Take that also".

During dinner at night at my house, he laid down his knife and fork and said to my wife “Is it allowable, Mrs Watson, to sing during dinner, for I cannot get the children’s songs out of my head?”

Later in the evening he came up to me. "Sheriff,” he asked, "did you think 1 behaved rudely in that school we first visited?”

"Well, perhaps—a little.”

"If I had attempted to speak, do you know I would have burst out crying like a great lubberly boy?”—“R. A.” in “Glasgow Herald,” November 29.

Taken from the "Aberdeen Journal" Notes and Queries 1914