52

In England Now

A Running Commentary by Peripatetic Correspondents

THE idea that children are bothered by this war seemsto be contrary to the known facts. All the adults of myacquaintance take it quite seriously ; indeed, womenwho have been slimming for years are at last beginningto get results. But the children don’t care ; they arebeautifully resistant to psychic trauma. And lookingback to the last war when I enjoyed the privilege of youthmyself, I might admit it never gave me a moment’sanxiety. Judging by her last letter, my niece

Penelope, aged about ten or eleven, is losing no sleep.True she glances at the war now and then, but shemakes it clear that she has more important things tothink about.

" We are going to have a match against some boys,they come from Bicton, we have got to have one boy eachand look after him, we are having as many boys as thereare people to look after them, but suddenly two boardersleft and two girls have got to have two boys, I am one ofthem, the match is going to be this evening and the boyswill be coming soon and we have got to be ready toentertain them.

" We have to have air-raid drill now and we have tohave a pair of knickers, a hugger and a big coat and gas-mask, in case there is an air-raid warning.

" I am so sorry this letter is so short but as I told you wehave got to be ready to receive the boys very soon so Imust stop." ’

I don’t deny there are children who dream of beingchased by outsize tanks, but I think they are the excep-tion rather than the rule. Schoolmasters tell me that thesenior boys in public schools are interested, but notdismayed, to find that they are growing up in an extremelyturbulent world ; as for preparatory-school bovs, accord-ing to a headmaster of my acquaintance, " they simplyache for air-raid alarms." They like going into theshelter in the small hours. Those of tenderer years,though less articulate, probably feel the same. Feelingmy way delicately with an eight-year-old, I asked ascasually as possible: " What do you feel about this war ? "He pondered. "It’ll be very dull when it’s over," hesaid at last, " there won’t be any news." A family ofthree small girls get in a little target practice whenevercivil defence commits them to the cellar ; they throwdarts at a portrait of the Fiihrer, and a good time, Iunderstand, is had by all.Another doctor’s family baguiles the air-raids by

inventing unlikely courses for the bomb. " Suppose itcame down the chimney and Mp the stairs and into yourroom, and under the bedclothes and out the other side andthrough the window, and burst in the garden . "Next day " our bomb " provides capital when boastingsets in at school. I suppose if a bomb really burst in thegarden it would make them sit up and shake their headsa bit, but I doubt if it would shake anything else aboutthem. Meanwhile the rest of us have our bouts ofindigestion and tachvcardia. Little ninnies, they simplydon’t know what’s what ; and what’s more they simplydon’t care.

* * *

They have taxed some odd things in their time-windows, hearths, seats at the theatre-and now theyhave thought of books. I can see their point ; we

want to save paper and we want to bring funds to thenational coffers ; it looks like two sitting birds with onestone. There are those interminable novels of eight ornine hundred pages, too big to read in bed, which anyonewould be glad to see taxed. But is this really themoment ? Books, after all, provide us with educationas well as entertainment ; they give us news of the otherfellow’s mind, and his tastes and his history and hislooks. They really are the key to our neighbour’shouse and to a better understanding of his problems.Whatever else we must cut down in this time of shortcommons surely we need not economise on ideas ? Andwhat about recreation ? Entertainment is scarce thesedays. Travel is ruled out, and however much we digfor victory we can’t dig all the time ; even vegetablesdemand a little peace. What else is there to do ? Wecan listen to the wireless or go to the cinema, I suppose,

but surely this is the superlative moment for catchingup with our reading, light or heavy. Lately, I havemet two or three doctors to whom the war has broughtleisure and the will to work for a higher examination.We all know what a delicate plant an intention of thatkind is ; even the tenderest hot-house treatment sometimes fails to keep it going. The price of textbooks isdiscouraging enough already ; taxed textbooks wouldafflict many a promising shoot with frostbite.

* * *

Parents are supposed to think well of their childrenbecause they feel they are projections of themselves ;there may be something in that. If so they seldom letthe children hear much about it-they are too busyexplaining how different they were at the same age. Itwas pleasant, in the course of examining children formigration overseas, to see this parental attitude reversed.Parents found that after all they could warmly recom-mend their children as good citizens, physical triumphsand agreeable people. More than once I caught a look ofastonishment on the face of the child. " Of course he’svery tall for his age "-" Her form-mistress says shenever remembers that she’s two years younger than any-one else in the class "—" He’s the sort of chap who makescenturies at cricket "-" ohio, he’s never been a problemchild ! " They were not really exaggerating, but merelyturning the limelight on the child’s good qualities. Thechildren, less concerned about showmanship, were apt tolet them down now and then by boasting of minor ail-ments, according to the custom of our civilisation. " Ohyes, I do get colds ; I’ve got a bit of a one now "-" AndI’ve had all my back teeth stopped, look "-" That’sbecause I sleep with my mouth open." When I stole aglance at the anxious parent I usually felt obliged tochange the subject. Intelligence testing was a prettyproblem with children who shot beyond the tests ; I amno hand at thinking up questions to confound a fifteen-year-old public schoolboy who can speak three languagesand is booked for the diplomatic service. He looked atme commiseratingly, and I decided to take him as read.On the whole the urine-testing table provided the bestgauge of intelligence. The young ones asked questionsabout the colour changes and wanted to know what Iwas doing it for ; and the older ones invited me toexplain the chemistry-a problem far beyond my mentalage. As a rule we all got on pretty well together afterthe first five minutes. The children settled down quickly,but the parents sometimes remained in a mild twitter. Iwas awed to find that at last I was affecting fellow-creatures in the same way as the examiners in finalsaffected me.

* * * .

Setting aside such obvious practical difficulties as

parental qualms and scarcity of available shipping space-not to mention the Fuhrer, who, one supposes, would beloath to subject his precious Nazi youth to the risk ofinfection with democratic notions-would it be theheight of sentimentality to suggest that all the childrenof all the belligerents should be evacuated overseas forthe duration of hostilities and allowed to mingle freelytogether while their elders and betters settled theirdifferences ? In this way we could make a clean job ofdestroying the bad old world while our children, whowill have to live in it, were constructing a new and moresensible one.

SOCIETY FOR RELIEF OF WIDOWS AND ORPHANS OF MEDICALMEN.-At a quarterly court of directors held on July 3 at 11,Chandos Street, London, with Mr. V. Warren Low, the

president, in the chair, two new members were elected andthe deaths of three reported. A widow, who has now died,had since 1935 received 1:337 108. in grants ; her husbandhad paid JS52 10s. in subscriptions. A sum of 2462 10s. wasvoted for the payment of half-yearly grants to 62 widows and3 orphans at present on the books. Membership is open toany registered practitioner who at the time of his election isresident within a twenty-mile radius of Charing Cross.

ROYAL SOCIETY OF MEDICINE.-A general meeting ofthe fellows of this society will be held on Tuesday, July 16, at5 at 1, Wimpole Street, London, W.I.