father and son-第41部分

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　gazed　up　into　the　tenderly…coloured　sky；　and　I　broke　irresistibly　into　speech。　'Come　now；　Lord　Jesus；'　I　cried；　'come　now　and　take　me　to　be　for　ever　with　Thee　in　Thy　Paradise。　I　am　ready　to　come。　My　heart　is　purged　from　sin；　there　is　nothing　that　keeps　me　rooted　to　this　wicked　world。　Oh；　come　now；　now；　and　take　me　before　I　have　known　the　temptations　of　life；　before　I　have　to　go　to　London　and　all　the　dreadful　things　that　happen　there！'　And　I　raised　myself　on　the　sofa；　and　leaned　upon　the　window…sill；　and　waited　for　the　glorious　apparition。

This　was　the　highest　moment　of　my　religious　life；　the　apex　of　my　striving　after　holiness。　I　waited　awhile；　watching；　and　then　I　felt　a　faint　shame　at　the　theatrical　attitude　I　had　adopted；　although　I　was　alone。　Still　I　gazed　and　still　I　hoped。　Then　a　little　breeze　sprang　up　and　the　branches　danced。　Sounds　began　to　rise　from　the　road　beneath　me。　Presently　the　colour　deepened；　the　evening　came　on。　From　far　below　there　rose　to　me　the　chatter　of　the　boys　returning　home。　The　teabell　rang；last　word　of　prose　to　shatter　my　mystical　poetry。　'The　Lord　has　not　come；　the　Lord　will　never　come；'　I　muttered；　and　in　my　heart　the　artificial　edifice　of　extravagant　faith　began　to　totter　and　crumble。　From　that　moment　forth　my　Father　and　I；　though　the　fact　was　long　successfully　concealed　from　him　and　even　from　myself；　walked　in　opposite　hemispheres　of　the　soul；　with　'the　thick　o'　the　world　between　us'。

EPILOGUE

THIS　narrative；　however；　must　not　be　allowed　to　close　with　the　Son　in　the　foreground　of　the　piece。　If　it　has　a　value；　that　value　consists　in　what　light　it　may　contrive　to　throw　upon　the　unique　and　noble　figure　of　the　Father。　With　the　advance　of　years；　the　characteristics　of　this　figure　became　more　severely　outlined；　more　rigorously　confined　within　settled　limits。　In　relation　to　the　Sonwho　presently　departed；　at　a　very　immature　age；　for　the　new　life　in　Londonthe　attitude　of　the　Father　continued　to　be　one　of　extreme　solicitude；　deepening　by　degrees　into　disappointment　and　disenchantment。　He　abated　no　jot　or　tittle　of　his　demands　upon　human　frailty。　He　kept　the　spiritual　cord　drawn　tight；　the　Biblical　bearingrein　was　incessantly　busy；　jerking　into　position　the　head　of　the　dejected　neophyte。　That　young　soul；　removed　from　the　Father's　personal　inspection；　began　to　blossom　forth　crudely　and　irregularly　enough；　into　new　provinces　of　thought；　through　fresh　layers　of　experience。　To　the　painful　mentor　at　home　in　the　West；　the　centre　of　anxiety　was　still　the　meek　and　docile　heart；　dedicated　to　the　Lord's　service；　which　must；　at　all　hazards　and　with　all　defiance　of　the　rules　of　life；　be　kept　unspotted　from　the　world。

The　torment　of　a　postal　inquisition　began　directly　I　was　settled　in　my　London　lodgings。　To　my　Fatherwith　his　ample　leisure；　his　palpitating　apprehension；　his　ready　penthe　flow　of　correspondence　offered　no　trouble　at　all；　it　was　a　grave　but　gratifying　occupation。　To　me　the　almost　daily　letter　of　exhortation；　with　its　string　of　questions　about　conduct；　its　series　of　warnings；　grew　to　be　a　burden　which　could　hardly　be　borne；　particularly　because　it　involved　a　reply　as　punctual　and　if　possible　as　full　as　itself。　At　the　age　of　seventeen；　the　metaphysics　of　the　soul　are　shadowy；　and　it　is　a　dreadful　thing　to　be　forced　to　define　the　exact　outline　of　what　is　so　undulating　and　so　shapeless。　To　my　Father　there　seemed　no　reason　why　I　should　hesitate　to　give　answers　of　full　metallic　ring　to　his　hard　and　oft…repeated　questions；　but　to　me　this　correspondence　was　torture。　When　I　feebly　expostulated；　when　I　begged　to　be　left　a　little　to　myself；　these　appeals　of　mine　automatically　stimulated；　and　indeed　blew　up　into　fierce　flames；　the　ardour　of　my　Father's　alarm。

The　letter；　the　only　too…confidently　expected　letter；　would　lie　on　the　table　as　I　descended　to　breakfast。　It　would　commonly　be；　of　course；　my　only　letter；　unless　tempered　by　a　cosy　and　chatty　note　from　my　dear　and　comfortable　stepmother；　dealing　with　such　perfectly　tranquillizing　subjects　as　the　harvest　of　roses　in　the　garden　or　the　state　of　health　of　various　neighbours。　But　the　other；　the　solitary　letter；　in　its　threatening　whiteness；　with　its　exquisitely　penned　addressthere　it　would　lie　awaiting　me；　destroying　the　taste　of　the　bacon；　reducing　the　flavour　of　the　tea　to　insipidity。　I　might　fatuously　dally　with　it；　I　might　pretend　not　to　observe　it；　but　there　it　lay。　Before　the　morning's　exercise　began；　I　knew　that　it　had　to　be　read；　and　what　was　worse；　that　it　had　to　be　answered。　Useless　the　effort　to　conceal　from　myself　what　it　contained。　Like　all　its　precursors；　like　all　its　followers；　it　would　insist；　with　every　variety　of　appeal；　on　a　reiterated　declaration　that　I　still　fully　intended；　as　in　the　days　of　my　earliest　childhood；　'to　be　on　the　Lord's　side'　in　everything。

In　my　replies；　I　would　sometimes　answer　precisely　as　I　was　desired　to　answer；　sometimes　I　would　evade　the　queries；　and　write　about　other　things；　sometimes　I　would　turn　upon　the　tormentor；　and　urge　that　my　tender　youth　might　be　let　alone。　It　little　mattered　what　form　of　weakness　I　put　forth　by　way　of　baffling　my　Father's　direct；　firm；　unflinching　strength。　To　an　appeal　against　the　bondage　of　a　correspondence　of　such　unbroken　solemnity　I　would　receivewith　what　a　paralysing　promptitude！such　a　reply　as　this：

Let　me　say　that　the　'solemnity'　you　complain　of　has　only　been　the　expression　of　tender　anxiousness　of　a　father's　heart；　that　his　only　child；　just　turned　out　upon　the　world；　and　very　far　out　of　his　sight　and　hearing；　should　be　walking　in　God's　way。　Recollect　that　it　is　not　now　as　it　was　when　you　were　at　school；　when　we　had　personal　communication　with　you　at　intervals　of　five　days　we　now　know　absolutely　nothing　of　you；　save　from　your　letters；　and　if　they　do　not　indicate　your　spiritual　prosperity；　the　deepest　solicitudes　of　our　hearts　have　nothing　to　feed　on。　But　I　will　try　henceforth　to　trust　you；　and　lay　aside　my　fears；　for　you　are　worthy　of　my　confidence；　and　your　own　God　and　your　father's　God　will　hold　you　with　His　right　hand。

Over　such　letters　as　these　I　am　not　ashamed　to　say　that　I　sometimes　wept；　the　old　paper　I　have　just　been　copying　shows　traces　of　tears　shed　upon　it　more　than　forty　years　ago；　tears　commingled　of　despair　at　my　own　feebleness；　distraction；　at　my　want　of　will；　pity　for　my　Father's　manifest　and　pathetic　distress。　He　would　'try　henceforth　to　trust'　me；　he　said。　Alas！　the　effort　would　be　in　vain；　after　a　day　or　two；　after　a　hollow　attempt　to　write　of　other　things；　the　importunate　subject　would　recur；　there　would　intrude　again　the　inevitable　questions　about　the　Atonement　and　the　Means　of　Grace；　the　old　anxious　fears　lest　I　was　'yielding'　my　intimacy　to　agreeable　companions　who　were　not　'one　with　me　in　Christ'；　fresh　passionate　entreaties　to　be　assured；　in　every　letter；　that　I　was　walking　in　the　clear　light　of　God's　presence。

It　seems　to　me　now　profoundly　strange；　although　I　knew　too　little　of　the　world　to　remark　it　at　the　time；　that　these　incessant　exhortations　dealt；　not　with　conduct；　but　with　faith。　Earlier　in　this　narrative　I　have　noted　how　disdainfully；　with　what　an　austere　pride；　my　Father　refused　to　entertain　the　subject　of　personal　shortcomings　in　my　behaviour。　There　were　enough　of　them　to　blame；　Heaven　knows；　but　he　was　too　lofty…minded　a　gentleman　to　dwell　upon　them；　and；　though　by　nature　deeply　suspicious　of　the　possibility　of　frequent　moral　lapses；　even　in　the　very　elect；　he　refused　to　stoop　to　anything　like　espionage。

I　owe　him　a　deep　debt　of　gratitude　for　his　beautiful　faith　in　me　in　this　respect；　and　now　that　I　was　alone　in　London；　at　this　tender　time　of　life；　'exposed'；　as　they　say；　to　all　sorts　of　dangers；　as　defenceless　as　a　fledgling　that　has　been　turned　out　of　its　nest；　yet　my　Father　did　not；　in　his　uplifted　Quixotism；　allow　himself　to　fancy　me　guilty　of　any　moral　misbehaviour；　but　concentrated　his　fears　entirely　upon　my　faith。

'Let　me　know　more　of　your　inner　light。　Does　the　candle　of　the　Lord　shine　on　your　soul？'　This　would　be　the　ceaseless　inquiry。　Or；　again；　'Do　you　get　any　spiritual　companionship　with　young　men？　You　passed　over　last　Sunday　without　even　a　word；　yet　this　day　is　the　most　interesting　to　me　in　your　whole　week。　Do　you　find　the　ministry　of　the　Word　pleasant；　and；　above　all；　profitable？　Does　it　bring　your　soul　into　exercise　before　God？　The　Coming　of　Christ　draweth　nigh。　Watch；　therefore　and　pray　always；　that　you　may　be　counted　worthy　to　stand　before　the　Son　of　Man。'

If　I　quote　such　passages　as　this　from　my　Father's　letters　to　me；　it　is　not　that　I　seek　entertainment　in　a　contrast　between　his　earnestness　and　the　casuistical　inattention　and　provoked　distractedness　of　a　young　man　to　whom　the　real　world　now　offered　its　irritating　and　stimulating　scenes　of　animal　and　intellectual　life；　but　to　call　out　sympathy；　and　perhaps　wonder；　at　the　spectacle　of　so　blind　a　Roman　firmness　as　my　Father's　spiritual　attitude　displayed。

His　aspirations　were　individual　and　metaphysical。　At　the　present　hour；　so　complete　is　the　revolution　which　has　overturned　the　puritanism　of　which　he　was　perhaps　the　latest　surviving　type；　that　all　classes　of　religious　persons　combine　in　placing　philanthropic　activity；　the　objective　attitude；　in　the　foreground。　It　is　extraordinary　how　far…reaching　the　change　has　been；　so　that　nowadays　a　religion　which　does　not　combine　with　its　subjective　faith　a　strenuous　labour　for　the　good　of　others　is　hardly　held　to　possess　any　religious　principle　worth　proclaiming。

This　propaganda　of　beneficence；　this　constant　attention　to　the　moral　and　physical　improvement　of　persons　who　have　been　neglected；　is　quite　recent　as　a　leading　feature　of　religion；　though　indeed　it　seems　to　have　formed　some　part　of　the　Saviour's　original　design。　It　was　unknown　to　the　great　preachers　of　the　seventeenth　century；　whether　Catholic　or　Protestant；　and　it　offered　but　a　shadowy　attraction　to　my　Father；　who　was　the　last　of　their　disciples。　When　Bossuet　desired　his　hearers　to　listen　to　the　cri　de　misere　l'entour　de　nous；　qui　devrait　nous　fondre　le　coeur；　he　started　a　new　thing　in　the　world　of　theology。　We　may　search　the　famous　'Rule　and　Exercises　of　Holy　Living'　from　cover　to　cover；　and　not　learn　that　Jeremy　Taylor　would　have　thought　that　any　activity　of　the