father and son-第36节
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ce on our drawing…room wall。
But still I had never seen a subject…picture； although my stepmother used to talk of the joys of the Royal Academy； and it was therefore with a considerable sense of excitement that I went； with my Father； to examine Mr。 Holman Hunt's Finding of Christ in the Temple' which at this time was announced to be on public show at our neighbouring town。 We paid our shillings and ascended with others to an upper room； bare of every disturbing object； in which a strong top…light raked the large and uncompromising picture。 We looked at it for some time in silence； and then my Father pointed out to me various details； such as the phylacteries and the mitres； and the robes which distinguished the high priest。
Some of the other visitors； as I recollect； expressed astonishment and dislike of what they called the 'Preraphaelite' treatment； but we were not affected by that。 Indeed； if anything； the exact； minute and hard execution of Mr。 Hunt was in sympathy with the methods we ourselves were in the habit of using when we painted butterflies and seaweeds； placing perfectly pure pigments side by side； without any nonsense about chiaroscuro。 This large； bright； comprehensive picture made a very deep impression upon me； not exactly as a work of art； but as a brilliant natural specimen。 I was pleased to have seen it； as I was pleased to have seen the comet； and the whale which was brought to our front door on a truck。 It was a prominent addition to my experience。
The slender expansions of my interest which were now budding hither and thither do not seem to have alarmed my Father at all。 His views were short； if I appeared to be contented and obedient； if I responded pleasantly when he appealed to me； he was not concerned to discover the source of my cheerfulness。 He put it down to my happy sense of joy in Christ； a reflection of the sunshine of grace beaming upon me through no intervening clouds of sin or doubt。 The 'saints' were； as a rule； very easy to comprehend； their emotions lay upon the surface。 If they were gay； it was because they had no burden on their consciences； while； if they were depressed； the symptom might be depended upon as showing that their consciences were troubling them； and if they were indifferent and cold； it was certain that they were losing their faith and becoming hostile to godliness。 It was almost a mechanical matter with these simple souls。 But； although I was so much younger； I was more complex and more crafty than the peasant 'saints'。 My Father； not a very subtle psychologist； applied to me the same formulas which served him well at the chapel； but in my case the results were less uniformly successful。
The excitement of school…life and the enlargement of my circle of interests； combined to make Sunday； by contrast； a very tedious occasion。 The absence of every species of recreation on the Lord's Day grew to be a burden which might scarcely be borne。 I have said that my freedom during the week had now become considerable； if I was at home punctually at meal times； the rest of my leisure was not challenged。 But this liberty； which in the summer holidays came to surpass that of 'fishes that tipple in the deep'； was put into more and more painful contrast with the unbroken servitude of Sunday。
My Father objected very strongly to the expression Sabbath…day； as it is commonly used by Presbyterians and others。 He said； quite justly； that it was an inaccurate modern innovation； that Sabbath was Saturday； the Seventh day of the week； not the first； a Jewish festival and not a Christian commemoration。 Yet his exaggerated view with regard to the observance of the First Day； namely； that it must be exclusively occupied with public and private exercises of divine worship； was based much more upon a Jewish than upon a Christian law。 In fact； I do not remember that my Father ever produced a definite argument from the New Testament in support of his excessive passivity on the Lord's Day。 He followed the early Puritan practice； except that he did not extend his observance； as I believe the old Puritans did； from sunset on Saturday to sunset on Sunday。
The observance of the Lord's Day has already become universally so lax that I think there may be some value in preserving an accurate record of how our Sundays were spent five and forty years ago。 We came down to breakfast at the usual time。 My Father prayed briefly before we began the meal； after it； the bell was rung； and； before the breakfast was cleared away； we had a lengthy service of exposition and prayer with the servants。 If the weather was fine； we then walked about the garden； doing nothing； for about half an hour。 We then sat； each in a separate room； with our Bibles open and some commentary on the text beside us； and prepared our minds for the morning service。 A little before 11 a。m。 we sallied forth； carrying our Bibles and hymn… books； and went through the morning…service of two hours at the Room； this was the central event of Sunday。
We then came back to dinner；curiously enough to a hot dinner； always； with a joint； vegetables and puddings； so that the cook at least must have been busily at work；and after it my Father and my stepmother took a nap； each in a different room； while I slipped out into the garden for a little while； but never venturing farther afield。 In the middle of the afternoon； my stepmother and I proceeded up the village to Sunday School； where I was early promoted to the tuition of a few very little boys。 We returned in time for tea； immediately after which we all marched forth； again armed as in the morning； with Bibles and hymn…books； and we went though the evening…service； at which my Father preached。 The hour was now already past my weekday bedtime； but we had another service to attend； the Believers' Prayer Meeting； which commonly occupied forty minutes more。 Then we used to creep home； I often so tired that the weariness was like physical pain； and I was permitted； without further 'worship'； to slip upstairs to bed。
What made these Sundays； the observance of which was absolutely uniform； so peculiarly trying was that I was not permitted the indulgence of any secular respite。 I might not open a scientific book； nor make a drawing； nor examine a specimen。 I was not allowed to go into the road； except to proceed with my parents to the Room； nor to discuss worldly subjects at meals； nor to enter the little chamber where I kept my treasures。 I was hotly and tightly dressed in black； all day long； as though ready at any moment to attend a funeral with decorum。 Sometimes； towards evening； I used to feel the monotony and weariness of my position to be almost unendurable； but at this time I was meek； and I bowed to what I supposed to be the order of the universe。
CHAPTER XI
As my mental horizon widened； my Father followed the direction of my spiritual eyes with some bewilderment； and knew not at what I gazed。 Nor could I have put into words； nor can I even now define； the visions which held my vague and timid attention。 As a child develops； those who regard it with tenderness or impatience are seldom even approximately correct in their analysis of its intellectual movements； largely because； if there is anything to record； it defies adult definition。 One curious freak of mentality I must now mention； because it took a considerable part in the enfranchisement of my mind； or rather in the formation of my thinking habits。 But neither my Father nor my stepmother knew what to make of it； and to tell the truth I hardly know what to make of it myself。
Among the books which my new mother had brought with her were certain editions of the poets； an odd assortment。 Campbell was there； and Burns； and Keats； and the 'Tales' of Byron。 Each of these might have been expected to appeal to me； but my emotion was too young； and I did not listen to them yet。 Their imperative voices called me later。 By the side of these romantic classics stood a small； thick volume； bound in black morocco； and comprising four reprinted works of the eighteenth century； gloomy； funereal poems of an order as wholly out of date as are the crossbones and ruffled cherubim on the gravestones in a country churchyard。 The fourand in this order； as I never shall forgetwere 'The Last Day' of Dr Young； Blair's 'Grave'； 'Death' by Bishop Beilby Porteus； and 'The Deity' of Samuel Boyse。 These lugubrious effusions； all in blank verse or in the heroic couplet； represented； in its most redundant form； the artistic theology of the middle of the eighteenth century。 They were steeped in such vengeful and hortatory sentiments as passed for elegant piety in the reign of George II。
How I came to open this solemn volume is explained by the oppressive exclusiveness of our Sundays。 On the afternoon of the Lord's Day； as I have already explained； I might neither walk； nor talk； nor explore our scientific library； nor indulge in furious feats of water…colour painting。 The Plymouth…Brother theology which alone was open to me produced； at length； and particularly on hot afternoons； a faint physical nausea； a kind of secret headache。 But； hitting one day upon the doleful book of verses； and observing its religious character； I asked 'May I read that？' and after a bri
