Kenelm Chillingly | Page 9

he dabbled in metaphysics, was posed, and scratched
his head without getting out a proper answer as to the distinction
between ideas and instincts. "My child," he said at last, "you don't
know what you are talking about: go and take a good gallop on your
black pony; and I forbid you to read any books that are not given to you
by myself or your mamma. Stick to 'Puss in Boots.'"
CHAPTER VII.
SIR PETER ordered his carriage and drove to the house of the stout
parson. That doughty ecclesiastic held a family living a few miles
distant from the Hall, and was the only one of the cousins with whom
Sir Peter habitually communed on his domestic affairs.
He found the Parson in his study, which exhibited tastes other than
clerical. Over the chimney-piece were ranged fencing-foils,
boxing-gloves, and staffs for the athletic exercise of single-stick;
cricket-bats and fishing-rods filled up the angles. There were sundry
prints on the walls: one of Mr. Wordsworth, flanked by two of
distinguished race-horses; one of a Leicestershire short-horn, with
which the Parson, who farmed his own glebe and bred cattle in its rich
pastures, had won a prize at the county show; and on either side of that
animal were the portraits of Hooker and Jeremy Taylor. There were
dwarf book-cases containing miscellaneous works very handsomely
bound; at the open window, a stand of flower-pots, the flowers in full
bloom. The Parson's flowers were famous.

The appearance of the whole room was that of a man who is tidy and
neat in his habits.
"Cousin," said Sir Peter, "I have come to consult you." And therewith
he related the marvellous precocity of Kenelm Chillingly. "You see the
name begins to work on him rather too much. He must go to school;
and now what school shall it be? Private or public?"
THE REV. JOHN STALWORTH.--"There is a great deal to be said for
or against either. At a public school the chances are that Kenelm will
no longer be overpowered by a sense of his own identity; he will more
probably lose identity altogether. The worst of a public school is that a
sort of common character is substituted for individual character. The
master, of course, can't attend to the separate development of each
boy's idiosyncrasy. All minds are thrown into one great mould, and
come out of it more or less in the same form. An Etonian may be clever
or stupid, but, as either, he remains emphatically Etonian. A public
school ripens talent, but its tendency is to stifle genius. Then, too, a
public school for an only son, heir to a good estate, which will be
entirely at his own disposal, is apt to encourage reckless and
extravagant habits; and your estate requires careful management, and
leaves no margin for an heir's notes-of-hand and post-obits. On the
whole, I am against a public school for Kenelm."
"Well then, we will decide on a private one."
"Hold!" said the Parson: "a private school has its drawbacks. You can
seldom produce large fishes in small ponds. In private schools the
competition is narrowed, the energies stinted. The schoolmaster's wife
interferes, and generally coddles the boys. There is not manliness
enough in those academies; no fagging, and very little fighting. A
clever boy turns out a prig; a boy of feebler intellect turns out a
well-behaved young lady in trousers. Nothing muscular in the system.
Decidedly the namesake and descendant of Kenelm Digby should not
go to a private seminary."
"So far as I gather from your reasoning," said Sir Peter, with
characteristic placidity, "Kenelm Chillingly is not to go to school at

all."
"It does look like it," said the Parson, candidly; "but, on consideration,
there is a medium. There are schools which unite the best qualities of
public and private schools, large enough to stimulate and develop
energies mental and physical, yet not so framed as to melt all character
in one crucible. For instance, there is a school which has at this
moment one of the first scholars in Europe for head-master,--a school
which has turned out some of the most remarkable men of the rising
generation. The master sees at a glance if a boy be clever, and takes
pains with him accordingly. He is not a mere teacher of hexameters and
sapphics. His learning embraces all literature, ancient and modern. He
is a good writer and a fine critic; admires Wordsworth. He winks at
fighting: his boys know how to use their fists; and they are not in the
habit of signing post-obits before they are fifteen. Merton School is the
place for Kenelm."
"Thank you," said Sir Peter. "It is a great comfort in life to find
somebody who can decide for one. I am an irresolute