As I stare at the Belfry, I think with a sort of smile
of some of my friends in London who are quite sure
of how children will turn out if you give them what
they call “the right environment.”
It is a troublesome thing, environment, for it sometimes
works positively and sometimes negatively, and more
often between the two. A beautiful environment
may make a child love beauty; it may make him bored
with beauty; most likely the two effects will mix
and neutralise each other. Most likely, that
is, the environment will make hardly any difference
at all. In the scientific style of history (which
was recently fashionable, and is still conventional)
we always had a list of countries that had owed their
characteristics to their physical conditions.
The Spaniards (it was said) are passionate because
their country is hot; Scandinavians adventurous because
their country is cold; Englishmen naval because they
are islanders; Switzers free because they are mountaineers.
It is all very nice in its way. Only unfortunately
I am quite certain that I could make up quite as long
a list exactly contrary in its argument point-blank
against the influence of their geographical environment.
Thus Spaniards have discovered more continents than
Scandinavians because their hot climate discouraged
them from exertion. Thus Dutchmen have fought
for their freedom quite as bravely as Switzers because
the Dutch have no mountains. Thus Pagan Greece
and Rome and many Mediterranean peoples have specially
hated the sea because they had the nicest sea to deal
with, the easiest sea to manage. I could extend
the list for ever. But however long it was, two
examples would certainly stand up in it as pre-eminent
and unquestionable. The first is that the Swiss,
who live under staggering precipices and spires of
eternal snow, have produced no art or literature at
all, and are by far the most mundane, sensible, and
business-like people in Europe. The other is
that the people of Belgium, who live in a country
like a carpet, have, by an inner energy, desired to
exalt their towers till they struck the stars.
As it is therefore quite doubtful whether a person
will go specially with his environment or specially
against his environment, I cannot comfort myself with
the thought that the modern discussions about environment
are of much practical value. But I think I will
not write any more about these modern theories, but
go on looking at the Belfry of Bruges. I would
give them the greater attention if I were not pretty
well convinced that the theories will have disappeared
a long time before the Belfry.
