South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) - Norman Douglas (ebook e reader .TXT) 📗
- Author: Norman Douglas
Book online «South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) - Norman Douglas (ebook e reader .TXT) 📗». Author Norman Douglas
Mr. Heard Enjoyed That Luncheon. "The Food, The Wine, The Service--They
Were Faultless; Something Altogether Out Of The Way," He Declared With
Frank Conviction.
"Then You Must Come Again," Replied His Host. "How Long Did You Say You
Were Staying Here?"
"Ten Days Or So. It Depends Upon Mrs. Meadows And Her Movements. I
Understand She Is All Alone Up There, In The Clouds. Her Husband's
Leave Has Been Postponed For The Second Time. He Was Going To Pick Her
Up On His Way To England. She Had To Leave India Before Him, On Account
Of The Child."
"A Pretty Baby. Couldn't Stand The Climate, I Suppose."
"Exactly. My Mother Asked Me To Look In And Cheer Her Up A Little, And
Perhaps Take Her Back With Me. And Really," He Added, "It's Rather
Awkward! I Have Not Seen My Cousin Since She Was A Little Girl. What
Does She Look Like?"
"Tailor-Made. Looks As If She Rode Well And Knew Her Own Mind. Looks As
If She Had Been Through A Good Deal Of Trouble."
"I Daresay She Has. She Was Always Impetuous, Even As A Child. That
First Marriage Was Not At All A Success. Some Foreign Scoundrel Who
Deserted Her And Vanished. I Was In China At The Time, But My Mother
Wrote Me About It."
"A First Marriage? She Never Told Me About That."
"This Second One Was A Love Match. They Ran Away Together. They Must
Have Had A Hard Time Out There At First, Living As They Did. No Doubt
She Has Learnt To Know Her Own Mind; One Has To Cope With Emergencies
In A Life Like That. He Has Done Well, I Hear. A Charming Fellow, From
All Accounts, Though I Question Whether They Are Properly Married Even
Now."
"Perhaps They Can't Be," Replied Mr. Keith, "In View Of The Earlier
Affair. But How Will They Educate That Boy, In India? It Can't Be Done.
India Is No Better Than Bampopo, For Such Purposes. Did You Do Much
Educational Work In Africa? I Hope You Were Gentle With My Friends The
Bulaga?"
"We Baptized Two Or Three Hundred Of Them One Day. But They Behaved
Shockingly The Very Next Week--Quite Disgracefully! They Are Hopeless,
Those Friends Of Yours, Though One Cannot Help Liking Them Somehow. I
Got Through Good Deal Of Other Work Of That Kind," He Added.
"I See You Are A Man Of Action. Sometimes I Wish I Were. A Little Money
Has Made Me Lazy, I'm Afraid. But I Do Some Thinking, And A Fair Lot Of
Reading. I Travel, I Observe, I Compare. Among Other Things I Observe
That Our English System Of Education Is All Wrong. We Ought To Return
To That Old Camp-And-Court Ideal."
"All Wrong?" Queried The Bishop.
"Take A Case Like That Young Fellow Denis. What Is A Child Of His Age
Doing At A University? No. If I Had A Son--But I Am Boring You."
"I Have Not Been Bored Since I Was Twenty."
"I Wish I Could Say The Same Of Myself. I Grow More Intolerant Of Fools
As The Years Roll On. If I Had A Son, I Was Saying, I Would Take Him
From School At The Age Of Fourteen, Not A Moment Later, And Put Him For
Two Years In A Commercial House. Wake Him Up; Make An English Citizen
Of Him. Teach Him How To Deal With Men As Men, To Write A
Straightforward Business Letter, Manage His Own Money And Gain Some
Respect For Those Industrial Movements Which Control The World. Next,
Two Years In Some Wilder Part Of The World, Where His Own Countrymen
And Equals By Birth Are Settled Under Primitive Conditions, And Have
Formed Their Rough Codes Of Society. The Intercourse With Such People
Would Be A Capital Invested For Life. The Next Two Years Should Be
Spent In The Great Towns Of Europe, In Order To Remove Awkwardness Of
Manner, Prejudices Of Race And Feeling, And To Get The Outward Forms Of
A European Citizen. All This Would Sharpen His Wits, Give Him More
Interest In Life, More Keys To Knowledge. It Would Widen His Horizon.
Then, And Not A Minute Sooner, To The University, Where He Would Go Not
As A Child But A Man Capable Of Enjoying Its Real Advantages, Attend
Lectures With Profit, Acquire Manners Instead Of Mannerisms And A
University Tone Instead Of A University Taint. What Do You Think?"
"It Sounds A Trifle Revolutionary," Commented The Bishop, With A Smile.
"But It Appeals To Me. Education Is A Matter Than Lies Very Near My
Heart. In Fact, I Had Some Thoughts Of Retiring From The Church And
Devoting Myself To It. I Feel, I Don't Know Why, As If I Could Do More
In That Direction."
Keith Merely Observed:
"That Is Interesting. Perhaps You Have Reached The End Of The Church."
He Liked This Young Colonial Bishop, And His Straightforward, Earnest
Face. Being Of A Complicated Nature Himself, He Was Always Drawn
Towards Men Of Single Aims And Purposes.
The Other Would Have Been Pleased To Know Why Keith Found It
"Interesting" And What He Meant By That Other Phrase, Bur Forbore To
Inquire. He Was Rather A Silent Man, Though Not Deficient In Mother
Wit. He Lit A Cigarette, And Waited.
"Let Us Discourse Of Education!" Said His Host With That Elaborate
Manner Which The Bishop Afterwards Discovered To Be Peculiar To Him. "I
Think We Need Not Differentiate Between The Sexes. In Proportion As
More Careers Are Opened To Women, Their Teaching Will Tend To Converge
With That Of Men. That Specifically Female Education In Domestic Arts
Has Been Rendered Superfluous By Commercial Products. I Will Tell You
What I Think. A Sound Schooling Should Teach Manner Of Thought Rather
Than Matter. It Should Have A Dual Aim--To Equip A Man For Hours Of
Work, And For Hours Of Leisure. They Interact; If The Leisure Is
Misspent, The Work Will Suffer. As Regards The First, We Cannot Expect
A School To Purvey More Than A Grip Of General Principles. Even That Is
Seldom Given. The Second Should Enable A Man To Extract As Much
Happiness As Possible Out Of His Spare Time. The Secret Of Happiness Is
Curiosity. Now Curiosity Is Not Only Not Roused; It Is Repressed. You
Will Say There Is Not Time For Everything. But How Much Time Is Wasted!
Mathematics. . . . A Medieval Halo Clings Round This Subject Which, As
A Training For The Mind, Has No More Value Than Whist-Playing. I Wonder
How Many Excellent Public Servants Have Been Lost To England Because,
However Accomplished, They Lacked The Mathematical Twist Required To
Pass The Standard In This One Subject? As A Training In Intelligence It
Is Harmful: It Teaches A Person To Underestimate The Value Of Evidence
Based On Their Other Modes Of Ratiocination. It Is The Poorest Form Of
Mental Exercise--Sheer Verification; Conjecture And Observation Are
Ruled Out. A Study Of Chinese Grammar Would Be Far More Valuable From
The Point Of View Of General Education. All Mathematics Above The
Standard Of The Office Boy Should Be A Special Subject, Like Dynamics
Or Hydrostatics. They Are Useless To The Ordinary Man. If You Mention
The Utility Of A Mathematician Like Isaac Newton, Don't Forget That It
Was His Pre-Eminently Anti-Mathematical Gift For Drawing Conclusions
From Analogy Which Made Him What He Was. And Euclid--That Frowsy
Anachronism! One Might As Well Teach Latin By The System Of Donatus.
Surely All Knowledge Is Valueless Save As A Guide To Conduct? A Guide
Ought To Be Up To Date And Convenient To Handle. Euclid Is A Museum
Specimen. Half The Time Wasted Over These Subjects Should Be Devoted To
Draughtmanship And Object-Lessons. I Don't Know Why We Disparage
Object-Lessons; They Were Recommended By People Like Bacon, Amos
Commenius And Pestalozzi. They Are Far Superior To Mathematics As A
Means Of Developing The Reasoning Powers; They Can Be Made As Complex
As You Please; They Discipline The Eye And Mind, Teach A Child To
Discriminate Between The Accidental And The Essential, And Demand
Lucidity Of Thought And Expression. And The Hours Spent Over History!
What On Earth Does It Matter Who Henry The Twelfth's Wife Was?
Chemistry! All This, Relatively Speaking, Is Unprofitable Stuff. How
Much Better To Teach The Elements Of Sociology And Jurisprudence. The
Laws That Regulate Human Intercourse; What Could Be More Interesting?
And Physiology--The Disrespect For The Human Frame Is Another Relic Of
Monasticism. In Fact Our Whole Education Is Tainted With The Monkish
Spirit. Divinity! Has Any Purpose Ever Been Served--"
Mr. Keith Sighed.
"I Wish I Had Not Eaten So Many Of Those Prawns," He Added. "What Are
You Thinking?"
"I Think Modern Education Over-Emphasizes The Intellect. I Suppose That
Comes From The Scientific Trend Of The Times. You Cannot Obtain A
Useful Citizen If You Only Develop His Intellect. We Take Children From
Their Parents Because These Cannot Give Them An Intellectual Training.
So Far, Good. But We Fail To Give Them That Training In Character Which
Parents Alone Can Give. Home Influence, As Grace Aguilar Conceived
It--Where Has It Gone? It Strikes Me That This Is A Grave Danger For The
Future. We Are Rearing Up A Brood Of Crafty Egoists, A Generation Whose
Earliest Recollections Are Those Of Getting Something For Nothing From
The State. I Am Inclined To Trace Our Present Social Unrest To This
Over-Valuation Of The Intellect. It Hardens The Heart And Blights All
Generous Impulses. What Is Going To Replace The Home, Mr. Keith? And
There Is Another Point Which Has Often Forced Itself Upon Me. A Certain
Proportion Of Wealthy Children Tend To Fall Back Into Lower Grades Of
Life--Manual Labour, And So Forth. They Are Born Below The Level Of
Their Parents. No Difficulty About Relapsing. But A Fair Percentage Of
The Lowest Classes Tend To Rise; They Stand, Potentially, Above Their
Surroundings. An Apparatus Has Been Contrived For Catching These
Children. But It Is Defective, Because Devoid Of Sympathy. I Have Known
Hundreds Of Cases In The East End Of London Where Families Have Been
Unable To Raise Themselves By This Means Because, At The Critical
Moment, There Was Not Twenty Shillings In The House Wherewith To Buy
Clothes In Which The Child Could Present Himself To A Good Employer
With Any Prospect Of Success. Worthy Of A Better Fate, He Is Pushed
Back. The Chance Is Missed; The Family Remains In Poverty. All Kinds Of
Profitable And Honourable Capacities Are Being Wasted In This Fashion
Every Day--Peculiar Aptitudes For Mechanics, Talents For Art, Or Music,
Or Acting--"
"Acting!" Interrupted Keith. "I Am Glad You Reminded Me. We Are Just In
Time To See Some Theatricals At The Municipality. They Only Come Off
Once A Year. It Would Never Do For You To Miss Them. No, Never."
The Bishop, Rather Regretfully, Rose From His Seat. He Was Feeling
Comfortable Just Then, And Inclined To Listen To A Few More Of Keith's
Educational Heresies. But That Gentleman Seemed To Have Exhausted The
Subject, Or Himself.
"It's Only A Few Minutes' Walk," He Observed. "We'll Take A Couple Of
Sunshades."
They Stepped Into The Broiling Heat. The Morning Mists Had Rolled Away
From The Mountains.
Walking Along, Mr. Heard Began To Realize What A Rambling And Craggy
Sort Of Place This Was. And How Decorative! Almost Operatic. The Town
Was Full Of Surprises--Of Unexpected Glimpses Upon A Group Of Slender
Palms, Some Gleaming Precipice, Or The Distant Sea. Gardens Appeared To
Be Toppling Over The Houses; Green Vines Festooned The Doorways And
Gaily Coloured Porches; Streets Climbed Up And Down, Noisy With
Rattling Carriages And Cries Of Fruit-Vendors Who Exposed Their Wares
Of Brightest Hues On The Pavement. Country Women, In Picturesque
Cinnamon-Coloured Skirts, Moved Gravely Among The Citizens. The Houses,
When Not Whitewashed, Showed Their Building Stone Of Red Volcanic Tufa;
Windows Were Aflame With Cacti And Carnations; Slumberous Oranges
Glowed In Courtyards; The Roadways Underfoot Were Of Lava--Pitch-Black.
It Was A Brilliant Medley, Overhung By A Deep Blue Sky. The Canvas Was
Indeed Overcharged, As Denis Had Said.
"There Are No Half-Tones In This Landscape," The Bishop Remarked To Mr.
Keith. "No Compromise!"
"And Yet Perfect Harmony. They Are All True Colours. I Hate Compromise.
It Is One Of The Curses Of Life. That Is Why I Cannot Endure England
For Long. The Country Is Full Of Half-Tones, Not Only In Nature.
Because A Thing Seems Good, There Must Be Some Bad In It. It Seems Bad
To Us--Therefore It Must Be Good For Us. Bedlamites! I Like Clean
Values. They Make For Clean Thinking. This Is The Only Day In The
Year," He Went On, "When You Will See The Population Abroad At This
Hour. The Streets Are Generally Quite Empty. It Is The Only Day When I
Would Forgo My Afternoon Nap On Nepenthe."
"Nearly Three O'clock," Said The Bishop, Consulting His Watch. "What A
Queer Time For Theatricals!"
"That Duke Again. You Can Ask Eames About Him, He Must Have Been A Man
Worth Knowing. He Always Slept In The Afternoons. It Annoyed Him To
Think That
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