THE CASE FOR THE BOY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LIII, Issue 16205, 15 April 1916, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE CASE FOR THE BOY.

YOUTH DOMINANT.

BY ISABEL MAUD PEACOCKE.

Look at him standing there, serene, un-self-conscious, very well satisfied with the world, and his placo in it. His years number ten or twelve. His cap is on the back of his head, hia bootlaces are probably undone, his hands aro in his pockets lovingly fingering the omniumgatherum therein. His hands and his knees may be dingy with that particular kind of dinginess which only a boy's hands and knees can acquire, his neck may show a high-water mark, and his ears and his nails be not above suspicion, while his stockings wrinkle and his shirt collar gapes buttonless, but these things weigh with him not at all, because he is unconscious of them or unconscious that they count in any way. He seldom loota forward, except momentarily, or, in tlie case of an expected treat in tho near future; he never looks back. His punishments cause him acute anguish for »he moment, looming so large as to blot out yesterday and to-morrow with the hideous shadow of the present, but once over, they fado from his mind with tho same remarkable ease with which the family cat, caught pilfering, forgets the chastisement and chivying which, followed, and offends again. The boy at this stage seems only a healthy young animal, with no nerves and a predilection for making ear-splitting noises out of sheer lightness of heart. To him tho world is the "best of all possible worlds" when things go well, and when th»y go ill his gloom is very transitory and easily dispelled. He has many irons in the fire, but he lets them all go cold suddenly; he likes to acquire things—stamps, marbles, silkworms—and is very hot on each hobby for a time. But ho usually tires of them, and then, if he be generous, anyone can have his cherished horde for the asking, or, being of a commercial turn of mind, he drives a bargain,, and turns to a fresh hobby with unjaded interest.

The Boy's Sense of Honour. The average boy, then, would seem to be purely elemental, satisfied to be well treated, well fed, free from pain and irksome tasks, and allowed to amuse himself according to his bent. Is there no more to him? Is he at this staco so cased in the tough crust of insensibility that no refining influences reach him at all? To the superficial observer it would seem so perhaps. Appeal to him—again I speak of tho average boy—on the score of honour and his better feelings. He grins and shuffles sheepishly. If lie seems for tho moment abashed, the next he is off with a war-whoop or whistle of utter indifference or relief; attempt a caress, and he wriggles away. Chivalry seems a dead-letter to him; if in the heat of argument his sister is moved to lift her hand against him, he hesitates not to return the blow and " a jolly sight harder," and is genuinely surprised at the suggestion that he should forbear because she is a girl. He jeers at sentiment, and takes a fiendish pleasure in laying bare the weaknesses of others.

Where, then, are his finer feelings? Is he possessed of any indeed? His detractors have a long list against him—rude, uncouth, dirty, restless, noisy, greedy, generally troublesome, a "young savage," they say. Ah! That is it, a young savage, a glorious young savage, conscious by instinct, rather than by reason, of himself rind his place in the universal . scheme. If he is greedy and clumsy it is only as the young puppy is, by nature; nil- paws and stomach, And there is something lovable in the puppy's shambling play, and promise of noble development in those clumsy paws, and that huge appetite.

Primitive Instincts. The matter is that when we require our boy to be quiet and deferential, to wipe his boots and hang up his hat when lie comes in, and close the door without banging it when he goes out; to eat sparingly, and not to tease the cat or bully his younger brother, we aro asking him to accustom himself to an artificial environment and conform to laws quite meaningless to him. Naturally it takes time. The boy is a citizen of another world than ours, by so many ages nearer Nature, and is tho most natural human creature alive iu an unnatural ago; and we, his elders, are all busy preaching, persuading, or bullying Nature out of him. His instincts aro primitive; he feels lifo tingling in him gloriously, and his deep, unreasoning exultation—which, like all intense emotions, is inarticulatebursts forth in a series of weird noises, which ho emits with startling abruptness. I suppose tho most frequent order a boy hears is: "For goodness sake, stop that noise!" But if it were possible to translate the boy's wordless exultation we might make of it a paean, a song of the joy of being, thus: "I am the Boy! I am Youth Incarnate! I am alive —alive! lam alive and glad! Glorious! Glorious! I laugh! I leap! I shout! I mako a joyful noise! The sun warms me! The winds and tho rains aro my playfellows! The wido green world is my playground! The earth is mine for my pleasure—the earth and tho air and the water and all that in them is. My blood dances, by body tingles! lam alive—! lam the Boy! I am Youth Dominant! lam cock o' the walk! Glorious! Glorious!" So unconsciously he conveys to us his exuberant intoxication of joy in life, when he rolls and tumbles in a friendly tussle with a companion, turns head over heels, or lets out a joyous war-whoop. And we tell him to "behave, and sit up like a little gentleman."

Overflow of Spirits. A natural affinity exists between him and all animals, a sort of freemasonry of the wild, and his overflow of spirits is as spontaneous as the gambols of a kid, or tho song of a bird. There is something irresistible in the growing boy before he has developed conceit and a toometiculous caro for his personal appearance. The creature is so intensely alive and so awaro of it, such a philosopher, so gay, light-hearted, indifferent to convention. He is so frankly egotistical, an innocently -swaggering rogue. He '< smooth-ch eked and clear-eyed, and laugh ter-kving. His superabundant energy and animal spirits mako him anything but a restful companion, but they are only indications of his intense vitality, a gift of the gods.

Fathor to the Man. In the hour of national stress, when the stupendous conflict of Empire rages in convulsed, unhappy Europe, it is on our manhood above all that we depend, for if "that bo lost," effete or helpless, "then all is lost." Guns and ships and all the diabolical devices science has put into the hands of war, what arc they, terrible and terrifying as is their power, without the controlling hand and brain of man '! From these remote, islands lias gone forth the best and bravest of our young manhood. We cheer our soldiers; our hearts swell with mighty pride in the brilliant record of their imperishable deeds; those that fall we honour and we mourn as heroes. Each one of these, mark you, was such another as this urchin, smiling roguishly of such stuff our "heroes"— our "boys'' (for we call them "boys" still) were made. Take heart and hopo in him, then, type of the rising generation, security for the future. Leave him latitude to grow, with tactful supervision, alone his own lines. Take pride and joy in him, encourage- his individuality, and remember that, if the boy is father' to the man, the self-reliance and strength we admire in the latter, may be only the boyish confidence and innocent egotism, developed and shaped, and become an admirablo thing.