father and son-第13节

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anionship　of　the　other。　Them　were　two；　and　sometimes　three　aquaria　in　the　room；　tanks　of　sea…water；　with　glass　sides；　inside　which　all　sorts　of　creatures　crawled　and　swam；　these　were　sources　of　endless　pleasure　to　me；　and　at　this　time　began　to　be　laid　upon　me　the　occasional　task　of　watching　and　afterwards　reporting　the　habits　of　animals。

At　other　times；　I　dragged　a　folio　volume　of　the　Penny　Cyclopaedia　up　to　the　study　with　me；　and　sat　there　reading　successive　articles　on　such　subjects　as　Parrots；　Parthians；　Passion…flowers；　Passover　and　Pastry；　without　any　invidious　preferences；　all　information　being　equally　welcome；　and　equally　fugitive。　That　something　of　all　this　loose　stream　of　knowledge　clung　to　odd　cells　of　the　back　of　my　brain　seems　to　be　shown　by　the　fact　that　to　this　day；　I　occasionally　find　myself　aware　of　some　stray　useless　fact　about　peonies　or　pemmican　or　pepper；　which　I　can　only　trace　back　to　the　Penny　Cyclopaedia　of　my　infancy。

It　will　be　asked　what　the　attitude　of　my　Father's　mind　was　to　me；　and　of　mine　to　his；　as　regards　religion；　at　this　time；　when　we　were　thrown　together　alone　so　much。　It　is　difficult　to　reply　with　exactitude。　But　so　far　as　the　former　is　concerned；　I　thinly　that　the　extreme　violence　of　the　spiritual　emotions　to　which　my　Father　had　been　subjected；　had　now　been　followed　by　a　certain　reaction。　He　had　not　changed　his　views　in　any　respect；　and　he　was　prepared　to　work　out　the　results　of　them　with　greater　zeal　than　ever；　but　just　at　present　his　religious　nature；　like　his　physical　nature；　was　tired　out　with　anxiety　and　sorrow。　Ho　accepted　the　supposition　that　I　was　entirely　with　him　in　all　respects；　so　far；　that　is　to　say；　as　a　being　so　rudimentary　and　feeble　as　a　little　child　could　be。　My　Mother；　in　her　last　hours；　had　dwelt　on　our　unity　in　God；　we　were　drawn　together；　she　said；　elect　from　the　world；　in　a　triplicity　of　faith　and　joy。　She　had　constantly　repeated　the　words：　'We　shall　be　one　family；　one　song。　One　song！　one　family！'　My　Father；　I　think；　accepted　this　as　a　prophecy；　he　felt　no　doubt　of　our　triple　unity；　my　Mother　had　now　merely　passed　before　us；　through　a　door；　into　a　world　of　light；　where　we　should　presently　join　her；　where　all　things　would　be　radiant　and　blissful；　but　where　we　three　would；　in　some　unknown　way；　be　particularly　drawn　together　in　a　tie　of　inexpressible　beatitude。　He　fretted　at　the　delay；　he　would　have　taken　me　by　the　hand；　and　have　joined　her　in　the　realms　of　holiness　and　light；　at　once；　without　this　dreary　dalliance　with　earthly　cares。

He　held　this　confidence　and　vision　steadily　before　him；　but　nothing　availed　against　the　melancholy　of　his　natural　state。　He　was　conscious　of　his　dull　and　solitary　condition；　and　he　saw；　too；　that　it　enveloped　me。　I　think　his　heart　was；　at　this　time；　drawn　out　towards　me　in　an　immense　tenderness。　Sometimes；　when　the　early　twilight　descended　upon　us　in　the　study；　and　he　could　no　longer　peer　with　advantage　into　the　depths　of　his　microscope；　he　would　beckon　me　to　him　silently；　and　fold　me　closely　in　his　arms。　I　used　to　turn　my　face　up　to　his；　patiently　and　wonderingly；　while　the　large；　unwilling　tears　gathered　in　the　corners　of　his　eyelids。　My　training　had　given　me　a　preternatural　faculty　of　stillness；　and　we　would　stay　so；　without　a　word　or　a　movement；　until　the　darkness　filled　the　room。　And　then；　with　my　little　hand　in　his；　we　would　walk　sedately　downstairs　to　the　parlour；　where　we　would　find　that　the　lamp　was　lighted；　and　that　our　melancholy　vigil　was　ended。　I　do　not　think　that　at　any　part　of　our　lives　my　Father　and　I　were　drawn　so　close　to　one　another　as　we　were　in　that　summer　of　1857。　Yet　we　seldom　spoke　of　what　lay　so　warm　and　fragrant　between　us；　the　flower…like　thought　of　our　Departed。

The　visit　to　my　cousins　had　made　one　considerable　change　in　me。　Under　the　old　solitary　discipline；　my　intelligence　had　grown　at　the　expense　of　my　sentiment。　I　was　innocent；　but　inhuman。　The　long　suffering　and　the　death　of　my　Mother　had　awakened　my　heart；　had　taught　me　what　pain　was；　but　had　left　me　savage　and　morose。　I　had　still　no　idea　of　the　relations　of　human　beings　to　one　another；　I　had　learned　no　word　of　that　philosophy　which　comes　to　the　children　of　the　poor　in　the　struggle　of　the　street　and　to　the　children　of　the　well…to…do　in　the　clash　of　the　nursery。　In　other　words；　I　had　no　humanity；　I　had　been　carefully　shielded　from　the　chance　of　'catching'　it；　as　though　it　were　the　most　dangerous　of　microbes。　But　now　that　I　had　enjoyed　a　little　of　the　common　experience　of　childhood；　a　great　change　had　come　upon　me。　Before　I　went　to　Clifton；　my　mental　life　was　all　interior；　a　rack　of　baseless　dream　upon　dream。　But；　now；　I　was　eager　to　look　out　of　the　window；　to　go　out　in　the　streets；　I　was　taken　with　a　curiosity　about　human　life。　Even　from　my　vantage　of　the　window…　pane；　I　watched　boys　and　girls　go　by　with　an　interest　which　began　to　be　almost　wistful。

Still　I　continued　to　have　no　young　companions。　But　on　summer　evenings　I　used　to　drag　my　Father　out；　taking　the　initiative　myself；　stamping　in　playful　impatience　at　his　irresolution；　fetching　his　hat　and　stick；　and　waiting。　We　used　to　sally　forth　at　last　together；　hand　in　hand；　descending　the　Caledonian　Road；　with　all　its　shops；　as　far　as　Mother　Shipton；　or　else　winding　among　the　semi…genteel　squares　and　terraces　westward　by　Copenhagen　Street；　or；　best　of　all；　mounting　to　the　Regent's　Canal；　where　we　paused　to　lean　over　the　bridge　and　watch　flotillas　of　ducks　steer　under　us；　or　little　white　dogs　dash；　impotently　furious；　from　stem　to　stern　of　the　great；　lazy　barges　painted　in　a　crude　vehemence　of　vermilion　and　azure。　These　were　happy　hours；　when　the　spectre　of　Religion　ceased　to　overshadow　us　for　a　little　while；　when　my　Father　forgot　the　Apocalypse　and　dropped　his　austere　phraseology；　and　when　our　bass　and　treble　voices　used　to　ring　out　together　over　some　foolish　little　jest　or　some　mirthful　recollection　of　his　past　experiences。　Little　soft　oases　these；　in　the　hard　desert　of　our　sandy　spiritual　life　at　home。

There　was　an　unbending；　too；　when　we　used　to　sing　together；　in　my　case　very　tunelessly。　I　had　inherited　a　plentiful　lack　of　musical　genius　from　my　Mother；　who　had　neither　ear　nor　voice；　and　who　had　said；　in　the　course　of　her　last　illness；　'I　shall　sing　His　praise；　at　length；　in　strains　I　never　could　master　here　below'。　My　Father；　on　the　other　hand；　had　some　knowledge　of　the　principles　of　vocal　music；　although　not；　I　am　afraid；　much　taste。　He　had　at　least　great　fondness　for　singing　hymns；　in　the　manner　then　popular　with　the　Evangelicals；　very　loudly；　and　so　slowly　that　I　used　to　count　how　many　words　I　could　read　silently；　between　one　syllable　of　the　singing　and　another。　My　lack　of　skill　did　not　prevent　me　from　being　zealous　at　these　vocal　exercises；　and　my　Father　and　I　used　to　sing　lustily　together。　The　Wesleys；　Charlotte　Elliott　（'Just　as　I　am；　without　one　plea'）；　and　James　Montgomery　（'Forever　with　the　Lord'）　represented　his　predilection　in　hymnology。　I　acquiesced；　although　that　would　not　have　been　my　independent　choice。　These　represented　the　devotional　verse　which　made　its　direct　appeal　to　the　evangelical　mind；　and　served　in　those　'Puseyite'　days　to　counteract　the　High　Church　poetry　founded　on　The　Christian　Year。　Of　that　famous　volume　I　never　met　with　a　copy　until　I　was　grown　up；　and　equally　unknown　in　our　circle　were　the　hymns　of　Newman；　Faber　and　Neale。

It　was　my　Father's　plan　from　the　first　to　keep　me　entirely　ignorant　of　the　poetry　of　the　High　Church；　which　deeply　offended　his　Calvinism；　he　thought　that　religious　truth　could　be　sucked　in；　like　mother's　milk；　from　hymns　which　were　godly　and　sound；　and　yet　correctly　versified；　and　I　was　therefore　carefully　trained　in　this　direction　from　an　early　date。　But　my　spirit　had　rebelled　against　some　of　these　hymns；　especially　against　those　writtena　mighty　multitudeby　Horatius　Bonar；　naughtily　refusing　to　read　Bonar's　'I　heard　the　voice　of　Jesus　say'　to　my　Mother　in　our　Pimlico　lodgings。　A　secret　hostility　to　this　particular　form　of　effusion　was　already；　at　the　age　of　seven；　beginning　to　define　itself　in　my　brain；　side　by　side　with　an　unctuous　infantile　conformity。

I　find　a　difficulty　in　recalling　the　precise　nature　of　the　religious　instruction　which　my　Father　gave　me　at　this　time。　It　was　incessant；　and　it　was　founded　on　the　close　inspection　of　the　Bible；　particularly　of　the　epistles　of　the　New　Testament。　This　summer；　as　my　eighth　year　advanced；　we　read　the　'Epistle　to　the　Hebrews'；　with　very　great　deliberation；　stopping　every　moment；　that　my　Father　might　expound　it；　verse　by　verse。　The　extraordinary　beauty　of　the　languagefor　instance；　the　matchless　cadences　and　images　of　the　first　chaptermade　a　certain　impression　upon　my　imagination；　and　were　（I　think）　my　earliest　initiation　into　the　magic　of　literature。　I　was　incapable　of　defining　what　I　felt；　but　I　certainly　had　a　grip　in　the　throat；　which　was　in　its　essence　a　purely　aesthetic　emotion；　when　my　Father　read；　in　his　pure；　large；　ringing　voice；　such　passages　as　'The　heavens　are　the　works　of　Thy　hands。　They　shall　perish；　but　Thou　remainest；　and　they　all　shall　wax　old　as　doth　a　garment；　and　as　a　venture　shah　Thou　fold　them　up；　and　they　shall　be　changed；　but　Thou　art　the　same；　and　Thy　years　shall　not　fail。'