father and son-第5部分

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The　declaration　of　war　with　Russia　brought　the　first　breath　of　outside　life　into　our　Calvinist　cloister。　My　parents　took　in　a　daily　newspaper；　which　they　had　never　done　before；　and　events　in　picturesque　places；　which　my　Father　and　I　looked　out　on　the　map；　were　eagerly　discussed。　One　of　my　vividest　early　memories　can　be　dated　exactly。　I　was　playing　about　the　house；　and　suddenly　burst　into　the　breakfast…room；　where；　close　to　the　door；　sat　an　amazing　figure；　a　very　tall　young　man；　as　stiff　as　my　doll；　in　a　gorgeous　scarlet　tunic。　Quite　far　away　from　him；　at　her　writing…table；　my　Mother　sat　with　her　Bible　open　before　her；　and　was　urging　the　gospel　plan　of　salvation　on　his　acceptance。　She　promptly　told　me　to　run　away　and　play；　but　I　had　seen　a　great　sight。　This　guardsman　was　in　the　act　of　leaving　for　the　Crimea；　and　his　adventures；he　was　converted　in　consequence　of　my　Mother's　instruction；were　afterwards　told　by　her　in　a　tract；　called　'The　Guardsman　of　the　Alma'；　of　which　I　believe　that　more　than　half　a　million　copies　were　circulated。　He　was　killed　in　that　battle；　and　this　added　an　extraordinary　lustre　to　my　dream　of　him。　I　see　him　still　in　my　mind's　eye；　large；　stiff；　and　unspeakably　brilliant；　seated；　from　respect；　as　near　as　possible　to　our　parlour　door。　This　apparition　gave　reality　to　my　subsequent　conversations　with　the　soldier　doll。

That　same　victory　of　the　Alma；　which　was　reported　in　London　on　my　fifth　birthday；　is　also　marked　very　clearly　in　my　memory　by　a　family　circumstance。　We　were　seated　at　breakfast；　at　our　small　round　table　drawn　close　up　to　the　window；　my　Father　with　his　back　to　the　light。　Suddenly；　he　gave　a　sort　of　cry；　and　read　out　the　opening　sentences　from　The　Times　announcing　a　battle　in　the　valley　of　the　Alma。　No　doubt　the　strain　of　national　anxiety　had　been　very　great；　for　both　he　and　my　Mother　seemed　deeply　excited。　He　broke　off　his　reading　when　the　fact　of　the　decisive　victory　was　assured；　and　he　and　my　Mother　sank　simultaneously　on　their　knees　in　front　of　their　tea　and　bread…and…butter；　while　in　a　loud　voice　my　Father　gave　thanks　to　the　God　of　Battles。　This　patriotism　was　the　more　remarkable；　in　that　he　had　schooled　himself；　as　he　believed；　to　put　his　'heavenly　citizenship'　above　all　earthly　duties。　To　those　who　said：　'Because　you　are　a　Christian；　surely　you　are　not　less　an　Englishman？'　he　would　reply　by　shaking　his　head；　and　by　saying：　'I　am　a　citizen　of　no　earthly　State'。　He　did　not　realize　that；　in　reality；　and　to　use　a　cant　phrase　not　yet　coined　in　1854；　there　existed　in　Great　Britain　no　more　thorough　'Jingo'　than　he。

Another　instance　of　the　remarkable　way　in　which　the　interests　of　daily　life　were　mingled　in　our　strange　household；　with　the　practice　of　religion；　made　an　impression　upon　my　memory。　We　had　all　three　been　much　excited　by　a　report　that　a　certain　dark　geometer…moth；　generated　in　underground　stables；　had　been　met　with　in　Islington。　Its　name；　I　think　is；　'Boletobia　fuliginaria'；　and　I　believe　that　it　is　excessively　rare　in　England。　We　were　sitting　at　family　prayers；　on　a　summer　morning；　I　think　in　1855；　when　through　the　open　window　a　brown　moth　came　sailing。　My　Mother　immediately　interrupted　the　reading　of　the　Bible　by　saying　to　my　Father；　'O！　Henry；　do　you　think　that　can　be　〃Boletobia〃？'　My　Father　rose　up　from　the　sacred　book；　examined　the　insect；　which　had　now　perched；　and　replied：　'No！　it　is　only　the　common　Vapourer；　〃Orgyia　antiqua〃！'；　resuming　his　seat；　and　the　exposition　of　the　Word；　without　any　apology　or　embarrassment。

In　the　course　of　this；　my　sixth　year；　there　happened　a　series　of　minute　and　soundless　incidents　which；　elementary　as　they　may　seem　when　told；　were　second　in　real　importance　to　none　in　my　mental　history。　The　recollection　of　them　confirms　me　in　the　opinion　that　certain　leading　features　in　each　human　soul　are　inherent　to　it；　and　cannot　be　accounted　for　by　suggestion　or　training。　In　my　own　case；　I　was　most　carefully　withdrawn；　like　Princess　Blanchefleur　in　her　marble　fortress；　from　every　outside　influence　whatever；　yet　to　me　the　instinctive　life　came　as　unexpectedly　as　her　lover　came　to　her　in　the　basket　of　roses。　What　came　to　me　was　the　consciousness　of　self；　as　a　force　and　as　a　companion；　and　it　came　as　the　result　of　one　or　two　shocks；　which　I　will　relate。

In　consequence　of　hearing　so　much　about　an　Omniscient　God；　a　being　of　supernatural　wisdom　and　penetration　who　was　always　with　us；　who　made；　in　fact；　a　fourth　in　our　company；　I　had　come　to　think　of　Him；　not　without　awe；　but　with　absolute　confidence。　My　Father　and　Mother；　in　their　serene　discipline　of　me；　never　argued　with　one　another；　never　even　differed；　their　wills　seemed　absolutely　one。　My　Mother　always　deferred　to　my　Father；　and　in　his　absence　spoke　of　him　to　me；　as　if　he　were　all…wise。　I　confused　him　in　some　sense　with　God；　at　all　events　I　believed　that　my　Father　knew　everything　and　saw　everything。　One　morning　in　my　sixth　year；　my　Mother　and　I　were　alone　in　the　morning…room；　when　my　Father　came　in　and　announced　some　fact　to　us。　I　was　standing　on　the　rug；　gazing　at　him；　and　when　he　made　this　statement；　I　remember　turning　quickly；　in　embarrassment；　and　looking　into　the　fire。　The　shock　to　me　was　as　that　of　a　thunderbolt；　for　what　my　Father　had　said　'was　not　true'。　My　Mother　and　I；　who　had　been　present　at　the　trifling　incident；　were　aware　that　it　had　not　happened　exactly　as　it　had　been　reported　to　him。　My　Mother　gently　told　him　so；　and　he　accepted　the　correction。　Nothing　could　possibly　have　been　more　trifling　to　my　parents；　but　to　me　it　meant　an　epoch。　Here　was　the　appalling　discovery；　never　suspected　before；　that　my　Father　was　not　as　God；　and　did　not　know　everything。　The　shock　was　not　caused　by　any　suspicion　that　he　was　not　telling　the　truth；　as　it　appeared　to　him；　but　by　the　awful　proof　that　he　was　not；　as　I　had　supposed；　omniscient。

This　experience　was　followed　by　another；　which　confirmed　the　first；　but　carried　me　a　great　deal　further。　In　our　little　back…garden；　my　Father　had　built　up　a　rockery　for　ferns　and　mosses　and　from　the　water…supply　of　the　house　he　had　drawn　a　leaden　pipe　so　that　it　pierced　upwards　through　the　rockery　and　produced；　when　a　tap　was　turned；　a　pretty　silvery　parasol　of　water。　The　pipe　was　exposed　somewhere　near　the　foot　of　the　rockery。　One　day；　two　workmen；　who　were　doing　some　repairs；　left　their　tools　during　the　dinner…hour　in　the　back…garden；　and　as　I　was　marching　about　I　suddenly　thought　that　to　see　whether　one　of　these　tools　could　make　a　hole　in　the　pipe　would　be　attractive。　It　did　make　such　a　hole；　quite　easily；　and　then　the　matter　escaped　my　mind。　But　a　day　or　two　afterwards；　when　my　Father　came　in　to　dinner；　he　was　very　angry。　He　had　turned　the　tap；　and　instead　of　the　fountain　arching　at　the　summit；　there　had　been　a　rush　of　water　through　a　hole　at　the　foot。　The　rockery　was　absolutely　ruined。

Of　course　I　realized　in　a　moment　what　I　had　done；　and　I　sat　frozen　with　alarm；　waiting　to　be　denounced。　But　my　Mother　remarked　on　the　visit　of　the　plumbers　two　or　three　days　before；　and　my　Father　instantly　took　up　the　suggestion。　No　doubt　that　was　it；　the　mischievous　fellows　had　thought　it　amusing　to　stab　the　pipe　and　spoil　the　fountain。　No　suspicion　fell　on　me；　no　question　was　asked　of　me。　I　sat　there；　turned　to　stone　within；　but　outwardly　sympathetic　and　with　unchecked　appetite。

We　attribute；　I　believe；　too　many　moral　ideas　to　little　children。　It　is　obvious　that　in　this　tremendous　juncture　I　ought　to　have　been　urged　forward　by　good　instincts；　or　held　back　by　naughty　ones。　But　I　am　sure　that　the　fear　which　I　experienced　for　a　short　time；　and　which　so　unexpectedly　melted　away；　was　a　purely　physical　one。　It　had　nothing　to　do　with　the　motions　of　a　contrite　heart。　As　to　the　destruction　of　the　fountain；　I　was　sorry　about　that；　for　my　own　sake；　since　I　admired　the　skipping　water　extremely　and　had　had　no　idea　that　I　was　spoiling　its　display。　But　the　emotions　which　now　thronged　within　me；　and　which　led　me；　with　an　almost　unwise　alacrity；　to　seek　solitude　in　the　back…　garden；　were　not　moral　at　all；　they　were　intellectual。　I　was　not　ashamed　of　having　successfullyand　so　surprisinglydeceived　my　parents　by　my　crafty　silence；　I　looked　upon　that　as　a　providential　escape；　and　dismissed　all　further　thought　of　it。　I　had　other　things　to　think　of。

In　the　first　place；　the　theory　that　my　Father　was　omniscient　or　infallible　was　now　dead　and　buried。　He　probably　knew　very　little；　in　this　case　he　had　not　known　a　fact　of　such　importance　that　if　you　did　not　know　that；　it　could　hardly　matter　what　you　knew。　My　Father；　as　a　deity；　as　a　natural　force　of　immense　prestige；　fell　in　my　eyes　to　a　human　level。　In　future；　his　statements　about　things　in　general　need　not　be　accepted　implicitly。　But　of　all　the　thoughts　which　rushed　upon　my　savage　and　undeveloped　little　brain　at　this　crisis；　the　most　curious　was　that　I　had　found　a　companion　and　a　confidant　in　myself。　There　was　a　secret　in　this　world　and　it　belonged　to　me　and　to　a　somebody　who　lived　in　the　same　body　with　me。　There　were　two　of　us；　and　we　could　talk　with　one　another。　It　is　difficult　to　define　impressions　so　rudimentary；　but　it　is　certain　that　it　was　in　this　dual　form　that　the　sense　of　my　individuality　now　suddenly　descended　upon　me；　and　it　is　equally　certain　that　it　was　a　great　solace　to　me　to　find　a　sympathizer　in　my　own　breast。

About　this　time；　my　Mother；　carried　away　by　the　current　of　her　literary　and　her　philanthropic　work；　left　me　more　and　more　to　my　own　devices。　She　was　seized　with　a　great　enthusiasm；　as　one　of　her　admirers　and　disciples　has　written；　'she　went　on　her　way；　sowing　beside　all　waters'。　I　would　not　for　a　moment　let　it　be　supposed　that　I　regard　her　as　a　Mrs。　Jellyby；　or　that　I　think　she　neglected　me。　But　a　remarkable　work　had　opened　up　before　her；　after　her　long　years　in　a　mental　hermitage；　she　was　drawn　forth　into　the　clamorous　harvest…field　of　souls。　She　developed　an　unexpected　gift　of　persuasion　over　strangers　whom　she　met　in　the　omnibus　or　in　the　train；　and　with　whom　she　courageously　grappled。　This　began　by　her　noting；　with　deep　humility　and　joy；　that　'I　have　reason　to　judge　the　sound　conversion　to　God　of　three　young　persons　within　a　few　weeks；　by　the　instrumentality　of　my　conversations　with　them'。　At　the　same　time；　as　another　of　her　biographers　ha