Sons of the Empire: The Frontier and the Boy Scout Movement, 1890–1918 by Robert H. MacDonald

Abstract

writing more generally. It would have been useful to have more detailed comparisons between Ondaatje’s individual texts (and especially across the genres) precisely because Ondaatje is such a hybrid writer himself. But Barbour does offer an extremely reliable, responsible overview of On­ daatje’s work; his readings, if overburdened by critical references, are sensi­ tive and informative. The critic who writes on Ondaatje is confronted with a difficult task: on the one hand, one cannot help but be aware of the way in which these texts resist meaning (captured concisely in Barbour’s claim that “[m]eaning is not the point; writing is” [135]); on the other hand, it is diffi­ cult to resist the critical task that involves finding, or creating, meaning in the very places where one insists that it does not exist. To Barbour’s credit, he does not succumb to this latter temptation as he respects the mongrel text in all its curiosity and mystery. Ba r b a r a leck ie / Carleton University Robert H. MacDonald, Sons of the Empire: The Frontier and the Boy Scout Movement, 1890-1918 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1993). viii, 258. $35.00. Speaking to a Toronto audience in 1910, Lord Robert Baden-Powell, founder of the Boy Scout movement, told a story that, no doubt unintentially, pro­ vided a truer picture of the Boy Scout than the many soldierly images so prominently displayed throughout that decade: Each boy is expected — and we put him on his honour to do it — to carry out some good deed every day to some animal or person. I have today received information of one of your local scouts who woke up in the night to find he had forgotten to do his good turn. He heard a mouse in the trap, so he got up, went to that mouse, tenderly took it out of the trap, and handed it to the cat.1 The story is helpful for two reasons. First, because it reminds us that, even though MacDonald’s study has a 1890-1918 timeframe and chronicles a movement in the heyday of imperial fervour, imperialism itself was more of­ ten imbibed than overtly inculcated; and that, though Baden-Powell’s Scout­ ing for Boys is indeed one of the most compact manuals of imperialism ever produced, we still need to consider the probability that the theory of scout­ ing as promulgated by Baden-Powell and the practice of it by thousands of young devotees were often not in accord. Experience teaches, among other things, one important fact about such movements (which are, in many ways, akin to religious movements): that when one bases an historical study on 109 the “preaching” — the written manifestoes — one might come to conclusions not at all recognized by those who “practised.” Secondly, Baden-Powell’s story may be the only image of the Boy Scout that modern readers recognize and to them MacDonald’s thesis may seem somewhat far-fetched. They might be unconvinced that the Boy Scouts they know — those inoffensive campfire enthusiasts and intrepid do-gooders (even helping old ladies across the street against their wishes) — are descended from a band of devoted imperialists, propagandized by Baden-PowelPs Scout­ ing for Boys. I belonged to a troop myself; and a less imperialistic, less manly, less woodscrafty troop would be hard to find. I never knew who Baden-Powell was till much later; I never read — or was asked to read — his Scouting for Boys. I was simply there for the fun and comradeship, and the uniform. This is not a disparagement of MacDonald’s thesis — not in the least; it’s just a recognition that what MacDonald is concerned with, quite intention­ ally, is the myth of scouting, a myth that he in no way suggests is congruent with the reality. In fact, though he argues that “the myth of the imperial frontier provided both the context and the material for the construction of Scouting,” the “experiences of the individual could always be ordinary, the power of myth dissipated in the light of day, and the ideal forgotten in squalid reality” (206). MacDonald is well aware that Baden-Powell’s story...