XXIII. A PEEP INTO
THE HOUSEHOLD
It has already been seen that, though household
expenses were heavy, the tendency towards simplicity
began in Durban. But the Johannesburg house came in for
much severer overhauling in the light of Ruskin's
teaching.
I introduced as much simplicity as was possible in a
barrister's house. It was impossible to do without a
certain amount of furniture. The change was more internal
than external. The liking for doing personally all the
physical labour increased. I therefore began to bring my
children also under that discipline.
Instead of buying baker's bread, we began to prepare
unleavened wholemeal bread at home according to Kuhne's
recipe. Common mill flour was no good for this, and the
use of handground flour, it was thought, would ensure
more simplicity, health and economy. So I purchased a
hand-mill for ?7. The iron wheel was too heavy to be
tacked by one man, but easy for two. Polak and I and the
children usually worked it. My wife also occasionally
lent a hand, though the grinding hour was her usual time
for commencing kitchen work. Mrs. Polak now joined us on
her arrival. The grinding proved a very beneficial
exercise for the children. Neither this nor any other
work was ever imposed on them, but it was a pastime to
them to come and lend a hand, and they were at liberty to
break off whenever tired. But the children, including
those whom I shall have occasion to introduce later, as a
rule never failed me. Not that I had no laggarded at all,
but most did their work cheerfully enough. I can recall
few youngsters in those days fighting shy of work or
pleading fatigue.
We had engaged a servant to look after the house. He
lived with us as a member of the family, and the children
used to help him in his work. The municipal sweeper
removed the night-soil, but we personally attended to the
cleaning of the closet instead of asking or expecting the
servant to do it. This proved a good training for the
children. The result was that none of my sons developed
any aversion for scavenger's work, and they naturally got
a good grounding in general sanitation. There was hardly
any illness in the home at Johannesburg, but whenever
there was any, the nursing was willingly done by the
children. I will not say that I was indifferent to their
literary education, but I certainly did not hesitate to
sacrifice it. My sons have therefore some reason for a
grievance against me. Indeed they have occasionally given
expression to it, and I must plead guilty to a certain
extent. The desire to give them a literary education was
there. I even endeavoured to give it to them myself, but
every now and then there was some hitch or other. As I
had made no other arrangement for their private tuition,
I used to get them to walk with me daily to the office
and back home a distance of about 5 miles in all. This
gave them and me a fair amount of exercise. I tried to
instruct them by conversation during these walks, if
there was no one else claiming my attention. All my
children, excepting the eldest, Harilal, who had stayed
away in India, were brought up in Johannesburg in this
manner. Had I been able to devote at least an hour to
their literary education with strict regularity, I should
have given them, in my opinion, an ideal deucation. But
it was been their, as also my, regret that I failed to
ensure them enough literary training. The eldest son has
often given vent to his distress privately before me and
publicly in the press; the other sons have generously
forgiven the failure as unavoidable. I am not heart
broken over it and the regret, if any, is that I did not
prove an ideal father. But I hold that I sacrificed their
literary training to what I genuinely, though may be
wrongly, believed to be service to the community. I am
quite clear that I have not been negligent in doing
whatever was needful for building up their character. I
believe it is the bounden duty of every parent to provide
for this properly. Whenever, in spite of my endeavour, my
sons have been found wanting, it is my certain conviction
that they have reflected, not want of care on my part,
but the defects of both their parents.
Children inherit the qualities of the parents, no less
than their physical features. Environment does play an
important part, but the original capital on which a child
starts in life is inherited from its ancestors. I have
also seen children successfully surmounting the effects
of an evil inheritance. That is due to purity being an
inherent attribute of the soul.
Polak and I had often very heated discussions about
the desirability or otherwise of giving the children an
English education. It has always been my conviction that
Indian parents who train their children to think and talk
in English from their infancy betray their children and
their country. They deprive them of the spiritual and
social heritage of the nation, and render them to that
extent unfit for the service of the country. Having these
convictions, I made a point of always talking to my
children in Gujarati. Polak never liked this. He thought
I was spoiling their future. He contended, with all the
vigour and love at his conmand, that, if children were to
learn a universal language like English from thier
infancy, they would easily gain considerable advantage
over others in the race of life. He failed to convince
me. I do not now remember whether I convinced him of the
correctness of my attitude, or whether he gave me up as
too obstinate. This happened about twenty years ago, and
my convictions have only deepened with experience. Though
my sons have suffered for want of full literary
education, the knowledge of the mother-tounge that they
naturally acquired has been all to their and the
country's good, inasmuch as they do not appear the
foreigners they would otherwise have appeared. They
naturally become bilingual, speaking and writing English
with fair ease, because of daily contact with a large
cicle of English friends, and because of their stay in a
country where English was the chief language spoken.
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