o listen to him, and over whom he
can tyrannise. But, on the other hand, a man who is both brave and
sensitive--and there are many such--can learn as well as teach
abundance of wholesome lessons, if he comes to his task with some hope
and love. King is, of course, a verbose bully; he delights in petty
triumphs; he rejoices in making himself felt; he is a cynic as well, a
greedy and low-minded man; he takes a disgusting pleasure in detective
work; he begins by believing the worst of boys; he is vain, shy,
irritable; he is cruel, and likes to see his victim writhe. I have
known many schoolmasters and I have never known a Mr. King, except
perhaps at a private school. But even King has done me good; he has
confirmed me in my belief that more can be done by courtesy and decent
amiability than can ever be done by discipline enforced by hard words.
He teaches me not to be pompous, and not to hunger and thirst after
finding things out. He makes me feel sure that the object of detection
is to help boys to be better, and not to have the satisfaction of
punishing them.

Prout is a feeble sentimentalist, with a deep belief in phrases. He is
a better fellow than King, and is only an intolerable goose. Both the
men make me wish to burst upon the scene, when they are grossly
mishandling some simple situation; but while I want to kick King, when
he is retreating with dignity, my only desire is to explain to Prout as
patiently as I can what an ass he is. He is a perfect instance of
absolutely ineffective virtue, a plain dish unseasoned with salt.

There are, of course, other characters in the book, each of them
grotesque and contemptible in his own way, each of them a notable
example of what not to be. But I would pardon this if the book were not
so unjust; if Kipling had included in his gathering of masters one
kindly, serious gentleman, whose sense of vocation did not make him a
prig. And if he were to reply that the Headmaster fulfils these
conditions, I would say that the Headmaster is a prig in this one
point, that he is so desperately afraid of priggishness. The manly man,
to my mind, is the man who does not trouble his head as to whether he
is manly or not, not the man who wears clothes too big for him, and
heavy boots, treads like an ox, and speaks gruffly; that is a pose, not
better or worse than other poses. And what I want in the book is a man
of simple and direct character, interested in his work, and not ashamed
of his in