I have left J. P. De Fonseka, teacher and dear friend, to the end of the list of lay teachers because he, too, should really have a whole book all to himself. Once dear old Robin Grenier said to him, in his own simple way, “J P., you have written so well of so many people, but when you die who will write of you”? And how true that has been, I have written of J.P., both in Blue & White and elsewhere, but it requires a far better pen than mine to write at all adequately of him. To attempt to do so in a few paragraphs would, anyway, be hopeless.
To my great joy he came to us in the middle of our year in the Intermediate Form, and taught us English. He made the subject live for us. The great living heroes of English Literature were not just names to him; he had met most of them and was on the most friendly terms with many of them. Here was English taught by a man who was not just a master of his subject, but who wrote the language with felicity and distinction. There is a vast collection of his correspondence with various English men of letters. They are with his brother, Bernard, and I have seen them letters from people like Walter de La Mare, Sir John Squire, Sir Allan Herbert, E. V. Lucas. The letters are not mere polite notes of acknowledgment, acknowledging receipt of letters from an admirer. They are long and frequent letters revealing considerable intimacy and friendship. I do not know of any other Ceylonese who has been accepted with such kindliness and friendship by the English literary world, or who has written so considerably to English journals and reviews.
His admiration for and his friendship with Chesterton are well known, and the fact that he edited two Chesterton books: a book of Prefaces, “G. K. C. as M.C.,” and a book of Essays, “Come to Think of it.” There was probably no one else in all the world as well versed in Chestertoniana, not even Maisie Ward, Chesterton’s official biographer, who had to turn to J.P. for certain items of information. He so adored Chesterton, that when Chesterton died it was as if the light went out of his life. A letter he wrote to me to Rome at that time gave that impression. He said, “now with Chesterton’s death everything has changed for me”. How I wish I had preserved the long and delightful letters he wrote to me in reply to some of mine from Rome, and a few more humorous exchanges after I had come back here and joined him on the staff.
Some of his impressions of his schooldays he has set down most readably in an article called “When We Were Very Much Younger” contributed to Blue & White some years ago. He captained the Josephian cricket team in his time. He was a vigorous batsman, and a slow and deadly bowler. He used to claim to have hit a six from every cricket field in Colombo.
He was unique. There can be only one J.P. There never will be another. With his untimely death I lost an erstwhile master and a very dear friend. He loved the Church he belonged to with a deep and abiding love, and he devoted his life to its service. He was courtesy, kindliness and gentleness personified, and he had a generous heart. He had the heart of a child. And of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.
From the article, “The Spirit of St. Joseph’s”
excerpts from articles written by Fr. Justin Perera
Blue and White, 1957
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