South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) by Norman Douglas (great novels to read txt) 📖

Friendly Attention. . . ."

 

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