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The Palgrave
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Economics
Editor
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Researcher in Economics
London, UK
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For Sissi and Herbert
Introduction
This is a volume about the economics and economists associated with the
University of Oxford. It is the third in a series to be published by Palgrave
examining the many and varied contributions made by important centres of
economics. With only a very few exceptions, the focus of most history of eco-
nomic thought studies, at least in terms of books,1 has been on schools of
thought. Such an approach provides valuable insights into how competing
schools interact and how some come to predominate, for whatever reason and
length of time, while others fall out of fashion or indeed never attain any par-
ticular notoriety. However, a key deficiency of such a modus operandi is that it
often fails to illuminate the many processes and tensions that can and do
occur at the level of the individual university, the personnel of which may be
fighting internal battles for supremacy whilst trying to establish external
hegemony.
Each volume in the series consists of two parts. The first contains a set of
chapters which consider the contributions made by a centre where these con-
tributions are considered to be especially important, this subject to a mixture
of personal preferences and soundings from those who know better. The sec-
ond, longer part is made up of chapters discussing the contributions of indi-
vidual economists attached to a particular centre. ‘Attached’ is the crucial
word. Some economists are easy to identify with a single institution as they
may, for example, have spent their whole academic careers at it. Those who
have moved from institution to institution are the more difficult case. One
way forward in these instances is to place an economist in the institution
1
Articles are of course another matter.
vii
viii Introduction
where they carried out their most important work, although this, in its turn,
carries with it the danger of disagreement over what ‘their most important
work’ was or is perceived to be and how this has changed over time. Another
factor perhaps worthy of consideration is an economist’s education. Where
such an education has been received at the knee of a master, to what extent has
this influenced the subsequent work of the noted pupil and how should this
be considered when that pupil has flown the nest and settled at another insti-
tution? Issues of leadership style, discipleship, loyalty and access to publica-
tion outlets and to financing also enter the frame. Finally, there are issues of
practicality, including space constraints and unavailability of contributors,
among others. Given this matrix of possibilities, disagreement about who
should be in which volume is inevitable. However, I hope that the outrage will
not be too great given the overarching goal of the series.
The next volume in the series will examine the University of Chicago.
Robert A. Cord
Contents
ix
x Contents
Notes on Contributors761
Index771
List of Figures
Chapter 1
Figure 1.1 UK GDP reconstructions, 1300–1700 18
Figure 1.2 UK domestic CO2 emissions in tons per person per year,
1860–201819
xiii
List of Tables
Chapter 3
Appendix 1 Pre-War Members of OERG 95
Appendix 2 Post-War Members of OERG 96
Chapter 23
Appendix 1 The Retail Price Index (RPI) and Unemployment in the UK,
1960–1985560
xv
Part I
Themes in Oxford Economics
1
Oxford’s Contributions to Econometrics
David F. Hendry and Bent Nielsen
1 Introduction1
The name econometrics was a neologism created by Ragnar Frisch to charac-
terise a discipline concerned with advancing economic theory in its relation to
statistics and mathematics. As a founding member of the Econometric Society
and its journal Econometrica in the early 1930s, Frisch wanted to promote
research that unified ‘the theoretical-quantitative and the empirical-
quantitative approach to economic problems’ (Frisch 1933: 1). Since then,
however, the term econometrics has come to signify just the statistical aspects
of quantitative economics research as with A Textbook of Econometrics (Klein
1953) or just Econometrics (as in Valavanis 1959). There remained a branch
emphasising the more general aspect, in that textbooks were titled Statistical
Methods of Econometrics (see Malinvaud 1966), which was also the name of
the main econometrics course for the Master of Philosophy (MPhil) degree in
Economics at the University of Oxford when the first author arrived there
in 1982.
1
We are grateful to Steve Bond, John Creedy, Christopher L. Gilbert, Grayham E. Mizon, James Poterba
and Jan Toporowski for helpful information about Oxford econometrics and recollections from their
time at the University and to John Gittins for permission to quote from his history of Oxford statistics
(Gittins 2013).
they both agreed to contribute, and later further discussed the idea with Francis
Galton, another pioneer of applied statistics. Writing to Galton in 1891, she
suggested that the professorship should address the need for statistics relating to
education, penology, workhouses and India. In his response, Galton stressed the
importance of the new professor doing research as well as teaching, and also
questioned the suitability of Oxford as the home for this venture. Neither com-
ment blended well with Miss Nightingale’s vision and, partly for these reasons,
sadly the proposal foundered (Gittins 2013: 4).
However, the University of Oxford did appoint someone we would now call
an econometrician to a chair in 1891, namely Francis Ysidro Edgeworth (see
Bowley 1934). This was not to a chair in statistics, but as the Drummond
Professor of Political Economy at All Souls. Edgeworth was an Irish philoso-
pher and political economist who had previously been Tooke Professor of
Economic Science and Statistics in London and made many significant con-
tributions to statistical methods. Earlier in life, he had been a student in phi-
losophy at Balliol College, Oxford, from 1867 to 1869, so was doubly
connected with the University.
In statistics, Edgeworth’s name is remembered through Edgeworth series,
which approximate a probability density function in terms of its cumulants.
He published many papers on statistics and his principle of maximum prob-
ability is an early version of likelihood (Edgeworth 1887). He also contrib-
uted to index number analysis. Stigler (1978: 295) viewed Edgeworth’s plan
as to ‘adapt the statistical methods of the theory of errors to the quantification
of uncertainty in the social, particularly economic, sciences’ and provides an
excellent discussion of its implementation. The Royal Statistical Society
1 Oxford’s Contributions to Econometrics 7
awarded Edgeworth the Guy Medal in 1907 and he served as its President dur-
ing 1912−1914. Edgeworth was also influential in the development of neoclas-
sical economics, perhaps best known for the Edgeworth−Bowley box diagram.
In 1891, he was appointed as the founding editor of the Economic Journal,
where he continued as editor or joint editor until his death 35 years later (for
more details on Edgeworth, see Chapter 11 in this volume by Creedy).
The next significant step in the development of Oxford statistics was again by
its economists, who were increasingly keen to build economic theory on a
foundation of sound data analysis. This led to the creation in 1935 of an
Institute of Statistics financed by the Rockefeller Foundation with a Director
holding a new Readership in Statistics (see Chapter 6 in this volume by
Toporowski). As Oxford’s first research institute in statistics, the new organ-
isation was concerned with economics as well as statistics in relation to eco-
nomic data, features made more obvious in 1962 when it was renamed the
Institute of Economics and Statistics (IES). Chester (1986) provides a history
of IES to 1985.
The first Director of the Institute of Statistics in 1935 was the econometri-
cian Jacob Marschak, who was born in Kiev in 1898 as the son of a Jewish
jeweller. Marschak had lived an eventful life in Russia and Germany until
coming to Oxford fleeing Hitler. He moved to the USA in 1938 where he had
a distinguished career at the Cowles Commission.
During the war years, the Acting Director of the Institute was Sir Arthur
Bowley, the distinguished economic statistician who had recently retired from
a chair at LSE. Although not primarily a statistician, Michał Kalecki was also
housed at the Institute from 1939 to 1945 where he contributed to analysing
data on many aspects of the Second World War, publishing in the Bulletin.
Hubert Henderson, Acting Director of the Institute at the time, recorded his
appreciation for Kalecki when he left: ‘[T]he repute that the Institute has won
as a war-time centre of lively, yet scientific and realistic economic study, owes
much to your stimulating influence’ (Henderson quoted in Toporowski 2018:
141). David Worswick (see Chapter 19 in this volume by Seneca) was at the
Institute from 1940 to 1960, but did not regard econometrics favourably,
arguing that it made ‘pretend-tools’ (Worswick 1972: 79) while trying to
achieve Frisch’s aims.
1 Oxford’s Contributions to Econometrics 9
The Readership was then filled by David Champernowne, who also became
Director of the Institute from 1945 to 1948 and Professor of Statistics from
1948 to 1959, after which he returned to Cambridge where he had read
mathematics and then economics, graduating in 1934. Champernowne went
on to do research on income distribution, for which he was the first to provide
a statistical model. In 1937, this work earned him a Prize Fellowship at King’s
College, Cambridge. He continued to work on income distribution for the
rest of his academic career (see Boianovsky 2017 for more details).
The Oxford Institute of Statistics then became home to a steady stream of
distinguished economic statisticians and econometricians. In roughly chrono-
logical order, Frank Burchardt was the Director after Champernowne in
1948, and he helped attract Lawrence Klein, later a Nobel Prize winner. Klein
worked at the Institute from 1954 to 1958 during the McCarthy era, and
helped develop the first UK macroeconometric model with James Ball, Arthur
Hazlewood and Peter Vandome (Klein et al. 1961a). Klein spoke of his asso-
ciation with the Institute in its early days in his Nobel Prize autobiography.2
Some of the papers related to Klein’s macroeconomic modelling were pub-
lished in the Bulletin of the Oxford Institute of Economics and Statistics, estab-
lished in 1939, changing its name in 1973 to the Oxford Bulletin of Economics
and Statistics. Ball et al. (1959) published “Econometric Forecasts for 1959”
(for the UK) in the February issue of 1959, while the February 1961 issue
contained “Re-estimation of the Econometric Model of the UK and Forecasts
for 1961” by Klein et al. (1961b). That issue also published “A Post-Mortem
on Econometric Forecasts for 1959” by Hazlewood and Vandome.
Next, IES was home to Gerhard Stuvel (see, for example, Stuvel 1965),
Christopher Winsten (whose serial correlation correction method in a 1954
Cowles Discussion Paper with Sig Prais became widely cited (Prais and
Winsten 1954)), N. Schwartz and John Hammersley (at Oxford from 1961
and whose excellent 1964 book on Monte Carlo methods with David
Hanscomb (Hammersley and Handscomb 1964) helped Hendry and Pravin
Trivedi develop their 1972 paper: Hendry and Trivedi 1972). They were fol-
lowed by a non-econometrician, Teddy Jackson, as Director, then Hendry
(who was Director from 1982 to 1984) and Stephen Nickell, who was its final
Director from 1984 to 1997.
James Meade (later another Nobel Prize Laureate) was born in Swanage,
Dorset, in 1907 and attended Oriel College, Oxford, in 1926 to read Greats,
2
See https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/economic-sciences/1980/klein/biographical/.
10 D. F. Hendry and B. Nielsen
Martin Feldstein was a Fellow of Nuffield from 1964 to 1967, the year in
which he received his DPhil (doctorate) supervised by Terence Gorman (and
later became an Honorary Fellow). Feldstein’s research pioneered the empiri-
cal analysis of production functions for hospitals using differences in location
and time within the National Health Service (NHS) to estimate the costs and
benefits of various medical procedures. His findings were published in both
medical and economics journals, as well as a book (Feldstein 1967), helping
shift analyses of healthcare productivity from studies of specific cases to
population data sets (see https://voxeu.org/article/ideas-and-influence-
martin-feldstein-1939-2019).
Alan Brown moved to Oxford in 1970 and was associated with IES and as
editor of the Bulletin until his death in 1984 (see, for example, Aitchison and
Brown 1957, and Brown and Deaton 1972). Stone (1985: 194) refers to
Brown as ‘a mainstay of advanced studies in econometrics and development
economics’ and Creedy (2008: 8) admired him as a thesis supervisor (Brown
had examined Hendry’s PhD thesis).
Other faculty who also taught econometrics at Oxford before (and after) 1980
included Michael Dempster who did so during the 1970s, as did Michael
Surrey (see Surrey 1971), Robert Bacon (see, for example, Bacon 1991), fol-
lowed by David Begg (see Corker and Begg 1985), and Christopher Gilbert
(see Gilbert 1976, 1986). Jerry Hausman was a doctoral student then, gradu-
ating in 1973 (see Hausman 1974—later also an Honorary Fellow of
Nuffield). As a lead into the next section, Jim Poterba was a doctoral student
supervised by Hendry, graduating in 1983 when he was already a Junior
Research Fellow at Nuffield (see, for instance, Poterba and Summers 1983).
being at the forefront of the cointegration wave, and by 1986 the Bulletin was
becoming one of the most cited “statistics” journals, though read by few non-
economics statisticians! While he was Director, Hendry started a tradition of
fortnightly econometrics lunches where all interested faculty and graduate
students could meet and discuss their teaching and research, which still con-
tinues. Throughout, there has also been a fortnightly econometrics seminar as
a venue for non-Oxford speakers.
It often surprises readers that despite having existed for hundreds of years,
Oxford did not have a department of economics until almost the end of the
twentieth century (for a brief history, see https://www.economics.ox.ac.uk/
about/about-homepage). Before 1997, economics teaching was college based,
with colleges having their own fellows who taught PPE. There was a taught
BPhil degree for graduates from 1945, which became an MPhil in 1979, with
much more technical economics and econometrics content. Over this period,
economics had a “sub-faculty” status with IES and Nuffield College being
focal points. By way of comparison, the Department of Statistics was only
created in 1988.
Rydberg (see, for instance, Rydberg and Shephard 2003) and Frank Gerhard
(see Gerhard and Hautsch 2002) were Research Officers. He co-founded the
Econometrics Journal with David Hendry and his later research is discussed in
Section 5.
Richard Spady was an Official Fellow of Nuffield over 1992−1999, and a
regular visitor since then, researching non- and semi-parametric methods.
Oliver Linton, a Research Fellow there from 1991 to 1993, also researched
non-parametric methods. Bronwyn Hall, Professor of Economics and
Professorial Fellow, Nuffield College, 1996−2001, brought a strong interest in
econometric computing, and her Time Series Processor (TSP) software was
linked into OxMetrics.
Financial Econometrics and Forecasting, the last of which was then supported
by a five-year Leverhulme Personal Research Professorship for Hendry.
Links to economic historians continued to be important to the econome-
tricians, especially with major data creators like Charles Feinstein (see Feinstein
1972) and Stephen Broadberry (see Section 6 in Offer 2017 and Chapter 4 in
this volume by Offer), including joint teaching of a quantitative approach to
the UK’s inter-war experience.
Nuffield also acted as a venue for many visiting econometricians, including
several visits by (amongst others) Clive Granger, Rob Engle, Adrian Pagan,
who was also a Nuffield Fellow for a period (see their interviews by Phillips
1997, Diebold 2003 and Skeels 2016 respectively in Econometric Theory),
Paul Ruud, Tom Rothenberg, Anders Rahbek and Gunnar Bårdsen.
5 Oxford Econometrics
in the Twenty-First Century
With the creation of the Department of Economics in Manor Road, the insti-
tutional framework for Oxford econometrics changed. At the same time, the
number of graduate students grew dramatically across the University and in
economics, where a new MSc in Financial Economics was created jointly with
the Saïd Business School in 2003. The Nuffield post-doc programme expanded
as a joint venture with the Department. A compulsory econometrics compo-
nent was introduced in the undergraduate PPE programme.
The econometricians who arrived in Oxford at the faculty level over this
period included Valérie Lechene, 1999–2006, Adrian Pagan, 2000–2003,
Kevin Shephard, 2004, Martin Browning, 2006–2019, Debopam
Bhattacharya, 2009–2015, Jennifer Castle, 2009, Sophocles Mavroeidis,
2011, Michael Keane, 2012–2017, James Wolter, 2013–2018, Vanessa
Berenguer-Rico, 2015, James Duffy, 2016, Anders Kock, 2017, Frank
DiTraglia, 2019, Max Kasy, 2020 and Frank Windmeijer, 2020. There has
been a constant flow of post-docs in econometrics, including Ola Elerian,
2001–2002, Jeremy Large, 2005–2008, Jennifer Castle, 2006–2009, Brendan
Beare, 2007–2008, Mika Meitz, 2006–2008, Shin Kanaya, 2008–2012,
Vitaliy Oryshchenko, 2011–2014, Vanessa Berenguer-Rico, 2012–2014,
Daniel Gutknecht, 2012–2015, James Wolter, 2012–2013, Liang Chen,
2013–2016, Yingying Lee, 2013–2016, Marianne Bruins, 2014–2018, James
Duffy, 2014–2016, Ryoko Ito, 2015–2017, Felix Pretis, 2015–2018, Stefan
Hubner, 2016, Sander Barendse, 2018, Xiyu Jiao, 2019, and Susana Martins,
2019. Research Officers included Marianne Sensier, Anthony Murphy and
16 D. F. Hendry and B. Nielsen
Luca Nunziato. Following the 2008 financial crisis, Hendry received funding
from the Institute for New Economic Thinking to set up a Program for
Economic Modelling and to develop tools for forecasting after crises, which
partly funded a number of the post-docs.
DPhil students in econometrics included Sule Akkoyunlu, Mavroeidis,
Domenico Lombardi, Michael Massmann, Guillaume Chevillon, Castle, Carlos
Santos, James Reade, Nicholas Fawcett, Julia Giese, Sonja Keller Canto, Pretis,
Andrew Martinez, Oleg Kitov, Michael Pitt, Carlos Caceras, Taka Kurita, Diaa
Noureldin, Qianzi Zeng, Heiko Hesse, Jiao, Matthias Qian, Aurora Manrique,
Cavit Pakel and Clive Bowsher.
Neil Shephard’s research in financial econometrics continued to flourish.
The returns on financial assets were modelled using volatility models driven
by a Lévy process (see Barndorff-Nielsen and Shephard 2002). These are pro-
cesses allowing a continuous component and both large and many small
jumps. The jumps can be estimated by power and bipower variation (see
Barndorff-Nielsen and Shephard 2004a) and multivariate features can be esti-
mated by realised covariation (see ibid. 2004b). Shephard was involved in the
creation of the MSc in Financial Econometrics and also in teaching the core
financial economics paper. He attracted funding from the Man hedge fund to
found the Oxford-Man Institute to study quantitative finance, and was its
first Director in 2007–2011. Neil is currently Chair of the Department of
Statistics at Harvard University.
In 2010, Sophocles Mavroeidis returned to a faculty position from Brown
University, working on identification in macroeconomic models. Previously,
he had worked on the problem of weak instruments in forward-looking mod-
els (Mavroeidis 2004, Kleibergen and Mavroeidis 2009). He next considered
the empirical evidence on inflation expectations in the New Keynesian Phillips
curve (Mavroeidis et al. 2014), identification using stability restrictions
(Magnusson and Mavroeidis 2014) and how learning in representative-agent
forward-looking models can generate long memory endogenously (Chevillon
and Mavroeidis 2018). This research was supported by a European Research
Council (ERC) consolidator grant in 2015. Mavroeidis brought the 30th
EC2 conference back to Oxford in 2019 after a long absence since the 4th
EC2 conference hosted by Hendry in 1993.
3
For an update and continuous time series, see Broadberry et al. (2015).
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
„Wag maar,” sê ek, „Hendrik is mans genoeg vir hom; dis nie die
eerste keer wat hy boks nie. Ek wonder waar hy die kuns aangeleer
het?”
Die geveg word hoe langer hoe doller. Groot Lawaai het tot die
ontdekking gekom dat die enigste kans om te wen in die hanteer van
die sambok lê, en bokspring nou al vinniger om Hendrik. Eindelik
sien laasgenoemde die psigologiese moment. Soos ’n wildekat vlieg
hy vorentoe onder die sambok deur, wat sy kop strykelings raak, gee
sy teenstander ’n geweldige slag met die linkervuis op sy wind, en
toe hy inmekaar sak, gee hy hom die coup de grâce so netjies dat
Dempsey hom die hou sou beny het.
Ongeërg tel hy die sambok op en wag tot Groot Lawaai bykom.
„Kyk hier, jou gemene baster, nou gaan jy eers die pak slae kry
wat jy al lank verdien het. Ek wil hê jy moet ’n slaggie voel hoedat
jou eie sambok slaan. Miskien sal jy dit dan in die vervolg ’n bietjie
minder op die donkies gebruik.” En met hierdie woorde steek
Hendrik los. Die eerste en die twede hou het Groot Lawaai nog
verdra, maar toe spring hy weg en loop netso hard as hy kan al om
die wa en die donkies, en kort op sy hakke is Hendrik, wat al die tyd
onbarmhartig daar op los slaan.
Eindelik kan die boelie nie meer hardloop nie. „Asseblief, Meneer,”
soebat hy, „sowaar, Meneer, ek sal die donkies nooit weer mishandel
nie! Moenie meer vir my slaan nie! Ag, asseblief tog, my baas!”
„Dè, vat jou sambok,” sê Hendrik, en in elke woord was veragting
te lees, „maar die Here help vir jou as jy weer die donkies
mishandel.” En sonder ’n verder woord stap hy na die boom toe, trek
sy baadjie aan, stryk sy hand oor die striem op sy gesig en strek
hom so lank as hy is op sy rug onder die doringboom uit.
„Daardie kêrel se hand wil ek vat, al is hy ook ’n dronklap,” voeg
ek die hoof toe. „Daar steek meer in hom as in ons twee saam!”
En so het ek kennis gemaak met Hendrik Blits.
II.
Ds. Evertse kom op die Toneel.
Die dominee het daardie aand die gelykenis van die Verlore Seun
vir sy gehoor uit die Afrikaanse bewerking van die Nuwe Testament
voorgelees. Ek het al dikwels in die kerk en in die Sondagskool
opgelet hoedat hierdie verhaal grootmense sowel as kinders
aangryp, maar nog nooit het ek ’n aandagtiger gehoor as toe gesien
nie. Die delwers: man, vrou en kind, het letterlik aan die prediker se
mond gehang en elke woord ingedrink.
„Geliefdes,” roep die prediker aan die end van sy rede, en sy stem
is pleitend, net soos ’n liefhebbende moeder met haar stout seuntjie
sou praat, „geliefdes, net soos die Vader se oog al van ver sy
afgedwaalde seun sien aankom het en hy met ’n hart brandende van
liefde hom tegemoet gesnel en gekus het, netso wag julle hemelse
Vader vir elkeen van julle. Maar dan moet dit nie enkel by goeie
voornemens bly nie. Nee, julle moet opstaan en soos die verlore
seun na Hom teruggaan. Waarom sal julle langer as huurlinge
swynedraf eet, wanneer julle as seuns en erfgename by julle Vader
kan aansit?” Toe word as slotsang gesing: „Komt gij allen, komt tot
Hem, zondaars, komt, wat zou u hindren,” die seën word uitgespreek
en die diens was afgeloop. Een vir een gaan die delwers huis-toe.
Net een bly agter. Hy het so ’n bietjie opsy in die skaduwee gestaan,
asof hy bang was dat iemand hom sou raaksien. Soos Nikodemus
het hy in die nag gekom, omdat hy bevrees was om gesien te word.
Nou tree hy vorentoe en kon ek die verbasing op die dominee se
aangesig lees. „Wel, Hendrik man, ek is waarlik bly om jou ook
vanaand hier te sien!”
„Maar ek was nog elke aand teenwoordig, Dominee, hoewel ek nie
juis my bakkies in die lig wou wys nie,” sê die aangesprokene, wat
niemand anders as Hendrik Blits was nie. „Dominee, mag ek met jou
saamstap na jou tent toe? Of is jy ook bang vir hierdie paaiboelie?”
gaan hy verder.
Ek wou my verwyder, maar op versoek van die dominee en
Hendrik het ek saamgestap.
„Kyk, Dominee,” sê hy toe ons in die tentjie van die predikant sit,
„daardie preek van jou het my vanaand laat besluit dat ek ook wil
teruggaan na my aardse vader. Ek wil graag met die Hemelse ook
vrede maak, maar kan tog nie voordat ek nie eers met my natuurlike
vader versoen is nie. Ek is moeg vir varkkos. Sal jy vir my help?”
„Alte seker,” sê die dominee op so ’n opgewekte en
bemoedigende toon, dat ek by myself dink die saak is alreeds
halfgewen.
„Maar, Dominee, ek is ’n duiwel as ek drank ruik, en het u al
vergeet hoedat ek u nou die dag nog beledig het?” gaan Hendrik
voort.
„Vergeet?” herhaal die dominee sag, „nee, maar vergewe wel. Ek
wis dat dit die drank was wat gepraat het en nie Hendrik nie.”
In Hendrik se oog blink warempel ’n traan. Dit was lank laas dat
iemand so vriendelik met hom gepraat het.
„En kyk hier Hendrik man,” herneem die dominee, „jy kom van
vanaand af hier by my in die tent woon. Ek neem g’n weiering aan
nie. Jy het na my toe gekom om hulp, en met Gods genade gaan ek
jou help. Maar vertel my eers hoedat jy hier op die delwerye te lande
gekom het.”
III.
Hendrik vertel sy Lewensgeskiedenis.
Dis ’n lang storie, Dominee, en vir my nie eintlik plesierig om te
vertel nie, maar ek sal dit so kort en saaklik doen as ek kan. My
ouers lewe nog, woon in die Westlike Provinsie en is ryk. Ek is die
enigste seun, maar daar is nog twee dogters ook in die lewe. My
eerste onderrig het ek in Pêrel ontvang, en vandaar is ek na die
Kaapse Uniwersiteit toe, waar ek my graad in die wetenskappe
behaal het. My vader wou hê ek moes kom boer en die plaas bestier,
maar met my het dit gegaan soos met baie ander boerseuns. As ons
klaar geleer het, dan kan ons dit eenvoudig op ’n plaas nie uithou
nie. Jy is ’n dominee en hierdie vriend ’n onderwysman, maar kan
julle dan niks daaraan doen om ons onderwysstelsel so te herskep
dat dit meer uit die volk en vir die volk is nie? Kyk wat dit van my
gemaak het. En al wil ek myself en my toestand nie hierdeur
verskoon nie, tog beweer ek dat ’n kind vandag so opgevoed word
dat hy aan die plaaslewe hoog die land het as hy klaar is. ’n Mens
sou sweer dat elke seun ’n klerk of onderwyser of dokter of so iets
gaan word en elke meisie ’n onderwyseres of tikster. Nee, ons
stelsel mag vir die buiteland deug, maar vir Suid-Afrika is dit
hopeloos verkeerd.
Ek wou vir dokter in die medisyne gaan studeer, en hoewel teen
sy sin, het my vader eindelik ingewillig. ’n Maand daarna was alles in
orde en het ek na Londen vertrek om my studies voort te sit. Die
eerste jaar het dit goed gegaan en die twede ook, maar toe het ek in
slegte geselskap verval. Ek het naamlik die vriendskap verwerf van
’n Amerikaanse student wie se vader ’n miljoenêr was en wat
derhalwe nooit gebrek aan geld gehad het nie. Tot dusver het ek
altyd maklik uitgekom met die toelae wat my vader my maandeliks
gestuur het; ek het selfs geld oorgehou, want my vader het my rojaal
behandel. Maar nou het ’n maand se geld my skaars ’n week
geduur. Ek het deur my vriend in High Society gekom, en die gevolg
was dat ek skuld begin maak het. As ek hierby nog vermeld dat ek ’n
eersteklas voetbalspeler en die beste bokser op die Uniwersiteit
was, dan sal u wel kan verstaan dat ek dikwels uitgevra is, aan baie
bankette en danse deelgeneem, en later ’n smaak vir sterk drank
aangekweek het.
Maar so kon dit nie voortduur nie; my skuldeisers het my begin te
dreig, en my vader moes opdok. Hy het betaal, maar my onmiddellik
gebied om huis-toe te kom.
’n Maand later was ek in Tafelbaai. Aan boord skip het ek vir
oulaas nog die groot meneer gespeel, en toe ek by die Kaap kom,
was my lyf lekker. Ek het nooit my ouers by die doks verwag nie,
anders sou ek my miskien nog ’n bietjie bedwing het, maar berou
kom altyd te laat. Op pad huis-toe het my moeder elke slag ’n traan
uit haar oë gevee, en my vader was woedend.
„Toe, gaan slaap eers jou roes af,” sê hy by ons tuiskoms, „en dan
sal ons môre mekaar onder vier oë spreek. Jy behoort jou te skaam
om jou moeder en my soveel verdriet aan te doen.”
Die volgende môre het my vader my in sy kantoortjie geroep en
vreeslik geroskam. Ek het dit alles verdien, Dominee, maar as my
vader net ’n bietjie meer simpatiek was ...
„As ’n gewone dagloner sal jy nou moet werk, en as jy binne die
eerste twee jaar goedmaak, sal ek jou weer as my seun behandel.
Maar die eerste die beste keer wat jy ’n mistrap doen, jaag ek jou
soos ’n kaffer van my plaas af weg!”
Maar my moeder en my susters het my alles vergewe, en om hulle
nooit weer leed aan te doen nie, het ek my ernstig voorgeneem om
’n nuwe blaadjie om te slaan.
Dit het egter geblyk dat die duiwel nie so gemaklik van die syne
afstand doen nie. ’n Gereelde kuiergas van my suster was ’n vent
wat ek somar van die eerste dag af aan nie kon veel nie. By my
vader was hy egter baie gewild, hoewel my moeder en my oudste
suster hom nie juis uit liefde om die nek geval het nie. Wat my nog
meer vererg het, was die feit dat hy my kompleet nes ’n bediende in
die huis behandel het. Ons maat het hom verbeel dat hy verbasend
musikaal was, en hy het selfs musieklesse gegee, maar my opienie
was dat die Muse haar hoof uit skaamte laat hang het sodra hy sy
mond oopmaak om te sing.
Wel, een aand toe almal al moeg was van sy geskree en daar ’n
oomblikkie stilte gekom het, vra ek verlof om die Ave Maria van
Schubert op die gramafoon te speel. Dit was ’n plaat van Heifitz—op
die oomblik, soos u wellig weet, een van die grootste vioolspelers in
die wêreld. Ek het hom self in Londen gehoor, Dominee, en hy is in
een woord wonderlik.
Toe die plaat afgeloop was, sê ons musikale vriend: „Ons het nou
genoeg van sulke rubbish gehad, laat ons nou weer musiek maak!”
met die nadruk op musiek. Ek moes nou òf praat òf ontplof. „Jou
verwaande esel,” bars ek los, „as jy ook maar ’n greintjie verstand
had, dan...”
„Hendrik,” val my vader my in die rede, „gedra vir jou of verlaat die
kamer.”
Dominee, ek het die kamer verlaat en so ampertjies die plaas ook.
Maar my moeder, wat my na my kamer gevolg het, het so mooi
gepraat dat ek om haar ontwil aangebly het. Van dié tyd af het ek die
kuiergas vermy.
Vir ’n paar maande het dit goed gegaan en het ek die voorvalletjie
al amper vergeet, toe daar een aand ’n konsert op X was, waar die
vryer ook sou sing. Die hele famielie sou dorp-toe gaan vir die
konsert, en ek moes die moter drywe.
Soos die toeval dit wou hê, moes ek juis daardie aand ’n ou kennis
uit Londen ontmoet wat met die pouse by my aandring om saam met
hom iets te gaan drink. Hoe ek ook al teëpraat, hy wou g’n weiering
aanneem nie, en onder die verstandhouding dat ek net iets ligs sou
gebruik, gaan ek uiteindelik saam.
Die bar was vol konsertgangers, waaronder ook ons musikale
vriend. Hy het my binnekoms nie opgemerk nie. Om hom staan ’n
klompie van sy drinkbroers, en elke keer skree hulle dit uit van die
lag.
„Ou Hendrik,” sê hy tot vermaak van sy maats, „doen sy uiterste
om daardie dogter van hom aan my af te smeer, en sy ouvrou is
eintlik lastig. Sy seun, soos julle weet, is somar ’n sujet en ’n
niksnuts, en sy dogters van dié soort wat om enige jongkêrel se nek
sal val.”
„Wat sê jy daar?” vra ek terwyl ek vorentoe stap.
„Dè, jou plaashotnot!” skree hy en hy gooi sy glasie whiskey in my
gesig, terwyl sy maats dit uitgil van hilariteit.
Dis seker onnodig vir my om te vertel dat hy na die pouse nie
verder kon deelneem aan die konsert nie, of dat hy die volgende dag
nog nie sy oë kon oopmaak nie.
Soos ’n vuurtjie in die lang gras het die nuus versprei dat ek ons
kuiergas ’n pak slae in die bar toegedien het, en ek het rede om te
glo dat die meeste inwoners van X baie bly daaroor was. Maar my
vader was ’n ander sienswyse toegedaan. Hy wou eenvoudig na g’n
uitleg luister nie en wou g’n rede verstaan nie.
„Jy stink weer na die vervloekte drank,” snou hy my toe. „Maak dat
jy vir ewig uit my gesig wegkom. ’n Dronklap van ’n seun wat soos ’n
straatboef in kantiene baklei, wil ek nie erken nie. Trap!”
Ek het wel na drank geruik, maar dit was die vryerman se whiskey
wat hy op my uitgesmyt het; self het ek niks gedrink nie. My moeder
wou nog as middelaar tussenbei kom, maar ook sy word beveel om
stil te bly. Toe verloor ek my kop en het my vader dinge toegevoeg
wat onbetaamlik was vir ’n seun. Die volgende dag het ek van die
plaas af vertrek en rondgeswerwe totdat ek hier aangeland het.
„Die drank moes my die verlede laat vergeet, en nou is ek sy slaaf.
Kan jy my regtig help, Dominee?” en Hendrik se stem was diep
ernstig.
„Ja, Hendrik, met die hulp van Bo sal ek jou help,” sê die dominee
op so ’n toon dat die dieps-gesonkenste moed sou geskep het.
„Maar eers moet ons jou onder die drankduiwel se mag uitkry, en
daarom gaan jy van nou af aan as my broer by my in die tent bly.”
In stilte gee ek die dominee en Hendrik ’n handdruk en vertrek.
„Dis waar,” peins ek op die pad huis-toe, „party mense moet deur
dieper waters gaan as ander.”
IV.
’n Epidemie van Maagkoors en Slot.
Die eerste somerreëns het geval, en die vaal vlaktes het al so ’n
ligte groen skynsel begin te wys. Die delwer se waterrekening, wat
nog al ’n aansienlike sommetjie elke maand bedra, sal nou weer
aanmerklik minder wees, want elke uitgewerkte kleim het vol
gereent.
Nou is dit juis die tyd van die jaar wat ’n mens nie te versigtig kan
wees met betrekking tot jou drinkwater nie, want byna elke
dammetjie staande water is besmet. Maar die delwer dink selde
daaraan om sy water te kook; hy het nie die tyd en die geleentheid
daarvoor nie, en brandhout is ’n baie skaars artiekel op die diekens.
Die distriksdokter het sy hoof bedenklik geskud. Hy was ’n dag of
wat gelede ingeroep na drie siekes in een tent, en sy diagnose in
ieder geval was gewees: maagkoors.
„As daar nie ’n groot verbetering aangebring word wat sanitasie en
drinkwater betref nie, dan gaan julle ’n epidemie van maagkoors hier
op die delwerye hê,” het hy by daardie geleentheid met nadruk aan
die delwerskomitee gesê.
Maar hoe op aarde gaan jy behoorlike gesondheidsmaatreëls
neem in so ’n gemeenskap? En waar gaan jy skoon drinkwater kry
vir vier- of vyfduisend mense?
Die delwerskomitee het wel sy bes gedoen, maar die epidemie het
tog uitgebreek. Nou was dit werklik ’n naarheid op Diamantkuil. Hele
huisgesinne lê plat aan die gevreesde siekte, en daar is g’n hospitaal
waarin hulle kan verpleeg word nie. Die twee dokters van
Smartendal het gedoen wat hulle kon, maar wat vermag twee
geneeshere in so ’n geval?
Soos ’n dienende engel het ds. Evertse van tent tot tent en
pondokkie tot pondokkie gegaan. Hier het hy enkel ’n gebed gedoen,
daar het hy verpleeg, elders het hy bestraf, en weer op ’n ander plek
het hy dooies die laaste eer bewys en help begrawe. Hy was
onvermoeid en met bo-menslike krag het hy volgehou.
En Hendrik Blits?—Waar die dominee nie meer kon werk nie, het
hy gaan help en sy kennis van medisyne het hom goed te stade
gekom. G’n hut of krot was vir hom te vuil om te besoek nie; oral het
hy ingekruip om sy dienste aan te bied. Toe die dominee hom
waarsku om homself ’n bietjie meer in ag te neem, was sy enigste
opmerking: „Ek het baie verlore kanse om in te haal!”
Onder die krankes was onder meer ook Groot Lawaai. Die
dominee kon niemand kry om hom te gaan verpleeg nie. Die mense
was bang vir hom, en party delwers het openlik gesê dat hul hoop hy
sou vrek.
„Hendrik,” sê ds. Evertse een aand, „ek kom nou net van Groot
Lawaai af. Hy is allerellendigs en het niemand om hom te verpleeg
nie. Ek het gewonder of jy miskien sou wil gaan?” En hy kyk hom
vas in sy oë. Hendrik laat sy hand oor die litteken op sy gesig gly, en
vir ’n oomblik blits sy oë. Op die dominee se aangesig is
verleentheid duidelik leesbaar. Hendrik merk dit op en met ’n glimlag
sê hy: „Ek sal gaan, Dominee, ek sal gaan. Hy sal vir my ook beter
luister as vir enig iemand anders.”
Die epidemie word nou so kwaai dat dit eindelik die aandag van
die outoriteite trek. Verpleegsters word afgestuur na die delwerye, ’n
paar dokters kom saam, en drie of vier groot markeetente word as
tydelike hospitale ingerig. Nou gaan dit beter, en kon die dominee en
Hendrik sowel as die ander helpers ’n bietjie asem skep. En dit was
hoog tyd, want die dominee was klaar, en Hendrik self het die laaste
paar dae al geweet dat hy die siekte onder lede het.
„Ai! Dominee,” sug hy toe Groot Lawaai buite gevaar was, „nou
moet ons twee darem ’n bietjie gaan rus. Wat myself betref, ek voel
of ek vir altyd kan gaan slaap!”
Die predikant skrik toe hy Hendrik se doods-bleek gelaat sien en
die koorsgloed in sy oë. Hy gryp sy hand, voel sy pols, en daar was
’n moeder se besorgdheid in sy stem toe hy sê: „Kom, Hendrik, nou
moet jy gaan rus.”
Die volgende dag was Hendrik deurmekaar.
„Hy het te lank gewag voordat hy bed-toe gegaan het,” was die
uitspraak van die dokter, „en sy gestel is so afgesloop dat ek die
ergste vrees.”
In die hospitaal-tent het hulle vir Hendrik alles so gerieflik moontlik
ingerig, en die verpleegsters het gedoen wat hulle kon vir hierdie
pasjent. Aandoenlik was dit om te sien hoedat delwers wat hom
vroeër kwaadgesind was, nou met ontroerde gesigte elke môre en
aand na sy toestand kom verneem, en die getrouste onder hulle was
Groot Lawaai, die baster.
„As hy famieliebetrekkings het wat hom graag voor sy dood wil
sien,” het die dokter aan die dominee gesê, „dan moet u hulle
ontbied. Hy sal dit nie lank meer maak nie. Lewe sy ouers nog
miskien?”
„Ja, Dokter.”
„Nou laat hulle seker kom. Hendrik vra al na sy vader vir die laaste
week. Hy hou aan hy wil hom met sy vader versoen, en dis maar die
beste om hom sy sin te gee,” sê die dokter.
II.
’n Paar maande later het my werk my weer op Kreepoort gebring.
In die loop van die agtermiddag het ek vir oom Piet gaan besoek. Tot
my aangename verrassing was hy nie in sy ou krotjie te vinde nie.
Na ondersoek blyk dit dat die oubaas nou in Freek Willemse se
huisie woon.
Toe ek voor die deur stilhou, staan oom Piet op die stoep.
„Dag, neef,” roep hy, en sy stem klink al amper weer net soos
vanselewe.
„Dag, Oom, en hoe het Oom dan nou in hierdie huis te lande
gekom?”
„Ou neef, dis ’n lang storie. Klim af, kom binne, drink ’n lekker
koppie koffie en dan kan ons gesels.”
Ek het my nie tweekeer laat nooi nie. Ons het skaars gesit of tant
Lenie, wat nou ook weer goed ’n tien jaar jonger lyk, bring twee
geurige koppies koffie binne. Op haar gesig was duidelik te lees dat
daar ’n radikale verandering in die lewe van die twee oumense
plaasgevind het.
Na ’n rukkie begin oom Piet:
„Na jou vertrek twee maande gelede het ek werklik nie die moed
gehad om volgens gewoonte na my pondokkie terug te gaan nie.