IX.
“We are allowed to criticise, I believe,” remarked the Comte de C. after a pause which followed these remarks.
“By all means,” I replied; “I not only allow but invite criticism. In working out an idea, I may very likely neglect some side of it that ought not to be passed over.”
“Well, you seem to me inconsistent. You said the other day, and I quite agreed with you:—‘The first and fundamental rule of fencing is to parry;’ and now you tell us on the contrary not to attempt to parry.”
“That is fair criticism,” I answered, “but I do not admit the inconsistency. You will remember that we were then talking of scientific fencing, that is to say of the systematic study of swordsmanship. But that has nothing to do with the present question. The whole art of fencing cannot be learnt in three or four hours.
“Let me give you an analogy, for an analogy often serves to put an argument simply. Two men are on a sinking ship; one of them knows how to swim, the other only knows how to go to the bottom and stay there. Meanwhile the danger is immediate. Would you say to the man who cannot swim a stroke:—‘Look here, this is the way to swim; you move your arms like this, and at the same time you move your legs like that’? Do you mean to tell me that he will be able to put into practice straight away what you have just shown him? Or do you suppose, that thanks to your demonstration he will be able to swim when he finds himself in the water? No, of course you are not so foolish as to suppose anything of the sort. You would of course tell him to catch hold of something or other, anything—a spar, an oar, or a plank, and to support himself on it as best he can; that is his only chance.
“Well, my case is on all fours with that. My pupil is in imminent peril of his life. My business is to give him the spar or the plank, which may serve to keep him afloat. I don’t bother about teaching him to swim.