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when you were so ill…advised as to carry the affair beyond
illustration； and just exactly what ought anyhow to happen when you
did。 He had considerable powers of vivid expression； so that in
this way he could make us see all he described。 The class； freed
from any unpleasant nervous tension； could draw this still life
without flinching； and if any part was too difficult to draw； then
my father would produce a simplified version on the blackboard to be
copied instead。 And he would also write on the blackboard any
exceptionally difficult but grant…earning words； such as
〃empyreumatic〃 or 〃botryoidal。〃
Some words in constant use he rarely explained。 I remember once
sticking up my hand and asking him in the full flow of description；
〃Please； sir； what is flocculent？〃
〃The precipitate is。〃
〃Yes； sir； but what does it mean？〃
〃Oh！ flocculent！ 〃 said my father； 〃flocculent！ Why〃 he extended
his hand and arm and twiddled his fingers for a second in the air。
〃Like that；〃 he said。
I thought the explanation sufficient； but he paused for a moment
after giving it。 〃As in a flock bed； you know；〃 he added and
resumed his discourse。
3
My father； I am afraid； carried a natural incompetence in practical
affairs to an exceptionally high level。 He combined practical
incompetence； practical enterprise and a thoroughly sanguine
temperament； in a manner that I have never seen paralleled in any
human being。 He was always trying to do new things in the briskest
manner； under the suggestion of books or papers or his own
spontaneous imagination； and as he had never been trained to do
anything whatever in his life properly； his futilities were
extensive and thorough。 At one time he nearly gave up his classes
for intensive culture； so enamoured was he of its possibilities； the
peculiar pungency of the manure he got； in pursuit of a chemical
theory of his own； has scarred my olfactory memories for a lifetime。
The intensive culture phase is very clear in my memory； it came near
the end of his career and when I was between eleven and twelve。 I
was mobilised to gather caterpillars on several occasions； and
assisted in nocturnal raids upon the slugs by lantern…light that
wrecked my preparation work for school next day。 My father dug up
both lawns； and trenched and manured in spasms of immense vigour
alternating with periods of paralysing distaste for the garden。 And
for weeks he talked about eight hundred pounds an acre at every
meal。
A garden； even when it is not exasperated by intensive methods； is a
thing as exacting as a baby； its moods have to he watched； it does
not wait upon the cultivator's convenience； but has times of its
own。 Intensive culture greatly increases this disposition to
trouble mankind； it makes a garden touchy and hysterical； a drugged
and demoralised and over…irritated garden。 My father got at cross
purposes with our two patches at an early stage。 Everything grew
wrong from the first to last； and if my father's manures intensified
nothing else； they certainly intensified the Primordial Curse。 The
peas were eaten in the night before they were three inches high； the
beans bore nothing but blight； the only apparent result of a
spraying of the potatoes was to develop a PENCHANT in the cat for
being ill indoors； the cucumber frames were damaged by the
catapulting of boys going down the lane at the back； and all your
cucumbers were mysteriously embittered。 That lane with its
occasional passers…by did much to wreck the intensive scheme；
because my father always stopped work and went indoors if any one
watched him。 His special manure was apt to arouse a troublesome
spirit of inquiry in hardy natures。
In digging his rows and shaping his patches he neglected the guiding
string and trusted to his eye altogether too much； and the
consequent obliquity and the various wind…breaks and scare…crows he
erected； and particularly an irrigation contrivance he began and
never finished by which everything was to be watered at once by
means of pieces of gutter from the roof and outhouses of Number 2；
and a large and particularly obstinate clump of elder…bushes in the
abolished hedge that he had failed to destroy entirely either by axe
or by fire； combined to give the gardens under intensive culture a
singularly desolate and disorderly appearance。 He took steps
towards the diversion of our house drain under the influence of the
Sewage Utilisation Society； but happily he stopped in time。 He
hardly completed any of the operations he began； something else
became more urgent or simply he tired； a considerable area of the
Number 2 territory was never even dug up。
In the end the affair irritated him beyond endurance。 Never was a
man less horticulturally…minded。 The clamour of these vegetables he
had launched into the world for his service and assistance； wore out
his patience。 He would walk into the garden the happiest of men
after a day or so of disregard； talking to me of history perhaps or
social organisation； or summarising some book he had read。 He
talked to me of anything that interested him； regardless of my
limitations。 Then he would begin to note the growth of the weeds。
〃This won't do；〃 he would say and pull up a handful。
More weeding would follow and the talk would become fragmentary。
His hands would become earthy； his nails black； weeds would snap off
in his careless grip； leaving the roots behind。 The world would
darken。 He would look at his fingers with disgusted astonishment。
〃CURSE these weeds！〃 he would say from his heart。 His discourse was
at an end。
I have memories； too； of his sudden unexpected charges into the
tranquillity of the house； his hands and clothes intensively
enriched。 He would come in like a whirlwind。 〃This damned stuff
all over me and the Agricultural Chemistry Class at six！ Bah！
AAAAAAH！〃
My mother would never learn not to attempt to break him of swearing
on such occasions。 She would remain standing a little stiffly in
the scullery refusing to assist him to the adjectival towel he
sought。
〃If you say such things〃
He would dance with rage and hurl the soap about。 〃The towel！〃 he
would cry； flicking suds from big fingers in every direction； 〃the
towel！ I'll let the blithering class slide if you don't give me the
towel！ I'll give up everything； I tell youeverything！〃 。 。 。
At last with the failure of the lettuces came the breaking point。 I
was in the little arbour learning Latin irregular verbs when it
happened。 I can see him still； his peculiar tenor voice still
echoes in my brain； shouting his opinion of intensive culture for
all the world to hear； and slashing away at that abominable mockery
of a crop with a hoe。 We had tied them up with bast only a week or
so before； and now half were rotten and half