The Story of Baden-Powell | Page 8

rowing by day and sleeping on board by night, these indefatigable youngsters left London behind them, crossed the Severn, and, pulling up the Wye, arrived at Llandogo Falls, the first intimation of their arrival to Mrs. Baden-Powell being the sight of them dragging the boat over the lawn to the stables. This feat succeeded in endearing them to the Welsh people in the neighbourhood, who were greatly struck by the courage of the boys in crossing the Severn in a collapsible boat.
Here, at Llandogo Falls, the boys spent a great deal of time in riding practically wild ponies, and even in those days Ste was famous for his graceful seat, his quiet patience with an untractable steed, and his daring in attempting difficult jumps. Besides riding, the boys were fond of wandering about the country, making friends with the natives, shooting birds to be presently stuffed by themselves and put in the family museum, collecting rare insects, examining old ruins, and rowing up the Wye to spend the afternoon in bathing or in fishing, sometimes in both.
In this simple, healthy, and thoroughly English fashion the Baden-Powells spent their holidays, and in their home-life grew up devoted to each other, and to the mother whose controlling influence was over all their sports and occupations. It is interesting to note, ere we leave the subject of early training, that no infliction of punishment in any shape or form was permitted by Mrs. Baden-Powell. Whether such a rule would work for good in all families is a question that I for one, as a father of a young family, will never imperil my reputation for consistency by answering with a dogmatic affirmative. Nevertheless, one recognises the truth of Nietzsche's warning, "Beware of him in whom the impulse to punish is powerful." In the case of the Baden-Powells the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and you will get none of them to say that their childhood was not a joyous period, while Mrs. Baden-Powell will contend with any mother under Heaven that never before were such honourable, straightforward, and gentle-minded children. This home-life has never lost its charm, and though the sons may be scattered over the world on the Queen's service, they come back to exchange memories with each other under their mother's roof as often as the exigencies of their professions will allow. And when B.-P. is in the house, though his hair begins to flourish less willingly on his brow, he is just like the boy of old, springing up the stairs three steps at a time, and whistling as he goes with a heartiness and a joyousness that astonishes the decorous ten-year-old sparrow Timothy as he flits about the house after Miss Baden-Powell.
I have in my possession a copy of Mr. Russell's monograph on Mr. Gladstone, which had fallen into the hands of a grand old Tory parson. The margins of those pages bristle with the vehement annotations of my old friend. Against the statement that Mr. Gladstone had "a nature completely unspoilt by success and prominence and praise," there is a vigorous "OH!" Where it is recorded how in 1874 Mr. Gladstone promised to repeal the income-tax, I find a pencil line and the contemptuous comment, "A bribe for power!" Mr. Forster's resignation of office in 1882 is hailed with a joyful "Bravo, Forster!" and so on throughout Mr. Russell's interesting book. But on the last page of all there are three pencil lines marking a sentence, and by the side of the lines the concession, "Yes--true." The sentence is this: "But the noblest natures are those which are seen at their best in the close communion of the home."
CHAPTER IV
CARTHUSIAN
A gentleman once wrote to the late headmaster of Charterhouse, Dr. William Haig-Brown, saying that he wished to have his son "interred" at that school. The headmaster wrote back immediately saying he would be glad to "undertake" the boy. The same headmaster being shown over a model farm remarked of the ornamental piggery, built after the manner of a Chinese Pagoda, that if there was Pagoda outside there was certainly pig odour inside.
Such a man as this is sure to have been impressed by the personality of Master Ste, who, in 1870, came to him in the old Charterhouse, that hoary, venerable pile which seems to shrink into itself, as if to shut out the unpoetic and modern atmosphere of Smithfield Meat Market. B.-P. went to Charterhouse as a gown boy, nominated by the Duke of Marlborough, and owing to the ease with which his infant studies had been conducted, was obliged to enter by a low form. But he had, as we have already said, an enquiring mind. He had also a clear brain, all the better for not having been crammed in childhood; and,