Boarding schools -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Medical students -- Fiction
“He’s quite right,” said Downton. “It isn’t sexual education, it isn’t
moral instruction that’s going to work the miracle. When a boy reaches a
certain age—and it isn’t the same age with all boys—he begins to be
conscious, and quite properly, of his physical passions. You needn’t
shudder, Leeming. They exist. You know they exist as well as anybody.
Well, when he reaches that stage a public school isn’t the proper place
for him.”
“The games would go to pot,” said Cleaver. From his point of view there
was no more to be said.
“It depends entirely on your boy. Some are too old at seventeen. Some
are perfectly safe at nineteen. The trouble is that just when you get
them in sight of these dangers you put them in supreme authority. A
prefect can do pretty well as he likes. . . .”
“It’s the essence of the system . . . responsibility,” said Selby.
“It gives them what Shaw said about something else: the maximum of
inclination with the maximum of opportunity.”
“Shaw?” said Cleaver. “You fellows are too deep for me. Anyway, I don’t
believe there’s much wrong here. So long.” He swung out of the room.
“That kind of man,” said Mr. Leeming, “is at the root of the whole
business.”
Dr. Downton was almost angry. “Yon know, Leeming, you’re talking bosh.
The thing’s solving itself. All over the world schoolboys are getting
wider interests at school. In their homes they’re taking a more equal
place in family life. It is no longer a matter of being seen and not
heard. They’re being treated like human beings. The more you treat them
like human beings the less likely they are to behave like young animals.
And the greatest mistake of all is to keep on talking to them about it.
Every boy of a certain age is curious, and quite naturally curious, about
his physical possibilities. So is every girl. . . .”
“My dear Downton,” said Leeming flushing, “I shall be obliged if you
won’t—er—pursue the subject. You make it painful. . . .”
“Very well,” said Downton gathering up the skirts of his gown.
“Thank you.” Leeming left the room. Selby smiled lazily.
“If only,” he said, “if only our friend Leeming had ever enjoyed the
advantage of a really bad woman’s society.”
II
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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