father and son-第38节

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ther's　sermons。　He　attended　my　public　baptism；　and　was　so　much　moved　by　this　ceremony　that　he　passionately　desired　to　be　baptized　also；　and　was　in　fact　so　immersed；　a　few　months　later；　slightly　to　my　chagrin；　since　I　thereupon　ceased　to　be　the　only　infant　prodigy　in　communion。　When　we　were　both　in　our　thirteenth　year；　George　became　an　outdoor　servant　to　us；　and　did　odd　jobs　under　the　gardener。　My　Father；　finding　him；　as　he　said；　'docile；　obedient　and　engaging'；　petted　George　a　good　deal；　and　taught　him　a　little　botany。　He　called　George；　by　a　curious　contortion　of　thought；　my　'spiritual　foster…brother'；　and　anticipated　for　him；　I　think；　a　career；　like　mine；　in　the　Ministry。

Our　garden　suffered　from　an　incursion　of　slugs；　which　laid　the　verbenas　in　the　dust；　and　shore　off　the　carnations　as　if　with　pairs　of　scissors。　To　cope　with　this　plague　we　invested　in　a　drake　and　a　duck；　who　were　christened　Philemon　and　Baucis。　Every　night　large　cabbage…leaves；　containing　the　lees　of　beer；　were　spread　about　the　flower…beds　as　traps；　and　at　dawn　these　had　become　green　parlours　crammed　with　intoxicated　slugs。　One　of　George's　earliest　morning　duties　was　to　free　Philemon　and　Baucis　from　their　coop；　and；　armed　with　a　small　wand；　to　guide　their　footsteps　to　the　feast　in　one　cabbageleaf　after　another。　My　Father　used　to　watch　this　performance　from　an　upper　window；　and；　in　moments　of　high　facetiousness；　he　was　wont　to　parody　the　poet　Gray：

How　jocund　doth　George　drive　his　team　afield！

This　is　all；　or　almost　all；　that　I　remember　about　George's　occupations；　but　he　was　singularly　blameless。

My　Father's　plan　now　was　that　I　should　form　a　close　intimacy　with　George；　as　a　boy　of　my　own　age；　of　my　own　faith；　of　my　own　future。　My　stepmother；　still　in　bondage　to　the　social　conventions；　was　passionately　troubled　at　this；　and　urged　the　barrier　of　class…differences。　My　Father　replied　that　such　an　intimacy　would　keep　me　'lowly'；　and　that　from　so　good　a　boy　as　George　I　could　learn　nothing　undesirable。　'He　will　encourage　him　not　to　wipe　his　boots　when　he　comes　into　the　house；'　saidmy　stepmother；　and　my　Father　sighed　to　think　how　narrow　is　the　horizon　of　Woman's　view　of　heavenly　things。

In　this　caprice；　if　I　may　call　it　so；　I　think　that　my　Father　had　before　him　the　fine　republican　example　of　'Sandford　and　Merton'；　some　parts　of　which　book　he　admired　extremely。　Accordingly　George　and　I　were　sent　out　to　take　walks　together；　and　as　we　started；　my　Father；　with　an　air　of　great　benevolence；　would　suggest　some　passage　of　Scripture；　or　'some　aspect　of　God's　bountiful　scheme　in　creation；　on　which　you　may　profitably　meditate　together。'　George　and　I　never　pursued　the　discussion　of　the　text　with　which　my　Father　started　us　for　more　than　a　minute　or　two；　then　we　fell　into　silence；　or　investigated　current　scenes　and　rustic　topics。

As　is　natural　among　the　children　of　the　poor；　George　was　precocious　where　I　was　infantile；　and　undeveloped　where　I　was　elaborate。　Our　minds　could　hardly　find　a　point　at　which　to　touch。　He　gave　me；　however；　under　cross…examination；　interesting　hints　about　rural　matters；　and　I　liked　him；　although　I　felt　his　company　to　be　insipid。　Sometimes　he　carried　my　books　by　my　side　to　the　larger　and　more　distant　school　which　I　now　attended；　but　I　was　always　in　a　fever　of　dread　lest　my　schoolfellows　should　see　him；　and　should　accuse　me　of　having　to　be　'brought'　to　school。　To　explain　to　them　that　the　companionship　of　this　wholesome　and　rather　blunt　young　peasant　was　part　of　my　spiritual　discipline　would　have　been　all　beyond　my　powers。

It　was　soon　after　this　that　my　stepmother　made　her　one　vain　effort　to　break　though　the　stillness　of　our　lives。　My　Father's　energy　seemed　to　decline；　to　become　more　fitful；　to　take　unseasonable　directions。　My　mother　instinctively　felt　that　his　peculiarities　were　growing　upon　him；　he　would　scarcely　stir　from　his　microscope；　except　to　go　to　the　chapel；　and　he　was　visible　to　fewer　and　fewer　visitors。　She　had　taken　a　pleasure　in　his　literary　eminence；　and　she　was　aware　that　this；　too；　would　slip　from　him；　that；　so　persistently　kept　out　of　sight；　he　must　soon　be　out　of　mind。　I　know　not　how　she　gathered　courage　for　her　tremendous　effort；　but　she　took　me；　I　recollect；　into　her　counsels。　We　were　to　unite　to　oblige　my　Father　to　start　to　his　feet　and　face　the　world。　Alas！　we　might　as　well　have　attempted　to　rouse　the　summit　of　Yes　Tor　into　volcanic　action。　To　my　mother's　arguments；　my　Fatherwith　that　baffling　smile　of　hisreplied：　'I　esteem　the　reproach　of　Christ　greater　riches　than　the　treasures　of　Egypt！'　and　that　this　answer　was　indirect　made　it　none　the　less　conclusive。　My　mother　wished　him　to　give　lectures；　to　go　to　London；　to　read　papers　before　the　Royal　Society；　to　enter　into　controversy　with　foreign　savants；　to　conduct　classes　of　outdoor　zoology　at　fashionable　watering…places。　I　held　my　breath　with　admiration　as　she　poured　forth　her　scheme；　so　daring；　so　brilliant；　so　sure　to　cover　our　great　man　with　glory。　He　listened　to　her　with　an　ambiguous　smile；　and　shook　his　head　at　us；　and　resumed　the　reading　of　his　Bible。

At　the　date　of　which　I　write　these　pages；　the　arts　of　illustration　are　so　universally　diffused　that　it　is　difficult　to　realize　the　darkness　in　which　a　remote　English　village　was　plunged　half　a　century　ago。　No　opportunity　was　offered　to　us　dwellers　in　remote　places　of　realizing　the　outward　appearances　of　unfamiliar　persons；　scenes　or　things。　Although　ours　was　perhaps　the　most　cultivated　household　in　the　parish；　I　had　never　seen　so　much　as　a　representation　of　a　work　of　sculpture　until　I　was　thirteen。　My　mother　then　received　from　her　earlier　home　certain　volumes；　among　which　was　a　gaudy　gift…book　of　some　kind；　containing　a　few　steel　engravings　of　statues。

These　attracted　me　violently；　and　here　for　the　first　time　I　gazed　on　Apollo　with　his　proud　gesture；　Venus　in　her　undulations；　the　kirtled　shape　of　Diana；　and　Jupiter　voluminously　bearded。　Very　little　information；　and　that　tome　not　intelligible；　was　given　in　the　text；　but　these　were　said　to　be　figures　of　the　old　Greek　gods。　I　asked　my　Father　to　tell　me　about　these　'old　Greek　gods'。　His　answer　was　direct　and　disconcerting。　He　saidhow　I　recollect　the　place　and　time；　early　in　the　morning；　as　I　stood　beside　the　window　in　our　garish　breakfast…roomhe　said　that　the　so…called　gods　of　the　Greeks　were　the　shadows　cast　by　the　vices　of　the　heathen；　and　reflected　their　infamous　lives；　'it　was　for　such　things　as　these　that　God　poured　down　brimstone　and　fire　on　the　Cities　of　the　Plain；　and　there　is　nothing　in　the　legends　of　these　gods；　or　rather　devils；　that　it　is　not　better　for　a　Christian　not　to　know。'　His　face　blazed　white　with　Puritan　fury　as　he　said　thisI　see　him　now　in　my　mind's　eye；　in　his　violent　emotion。　You　might　have　thought　that　he　had　himself　escaped　with　horror　from　some　Hellenic　hippodrome。

My　Father's　prestige　was　by　this　time　considerably　lessened　in　my　mind；　and　though　I　loved　and　admired　him；　I　had　now　long　ceased　to　hold　him　infallible。　I　did　not　accept　his　condemnation　of　the　Greeks；　although　I　bowed　to　it。　In　private　I　returned　to　examine　my　steel　engravings　of　the　statues；　and　I　reflected　that　they　were　too　beautiful　to　be　so　wicked　as　my　Father　thought　they　were。　The　dangerous　and　pagan　notion　that　beauty　palliates　evil　budded　in　my　mind；　without　any　external　suggestion；　and　by　this　reflection　alone　I　was　still　further　sundered　from　the　faith　in　which　I　had　been　trained。　I　gathered　very　diligently　all　I　could　pick　up　about　the　Greek　gods　and　their　statues；　it　was　not　much；　it　was　indeed　ludicrously　little　and　false；　but　it　was　a　germ。　And　at　this　aesthetic　juncture　I　was　drawn　into　what　was　really　rather　an　extraordinary　circle　of　incidents。

Among　the　'Saints'　in　our　village　there　lived　a　shoemaker　and　his　wife；　who　had　one　daughter；　Susan　Flood。　She　was　a　flighty；　excited　young　creature；　and　lately；　during　the　passage　of　some　itinerary　revivalists；　she　had　been　'converted'　in　the　noisiest　way；　with　sobs；　gasps　and　gurglings。　When　this　crisis　passed；　she　came　with　her　parents　to　our　meetings；　and　was　received　quietly　enough　to　the　breaking　of　bread。　But　about　the　time　I　speak　of；　Susan　Flood　went　up　to　London　to　pay　a　visit　to　an　unconverted　uncle　and　aunt。　It　was　first　whispered　amongst　us；　and　then　openly　stated；　that　these　relatives　had　taken　her　to　the　Crystal　Palace；　where；　in　passing　through　the　Sculpture　Gallery；　Susan's　sense　of　decency　had　been　so　grievously　affronted；　that　she　had　smashed　the　naked　figures　with　the　handle　of　her　parasol；　before　her　horrified　companions　could　stop　her。　She　had；　in　fact；　run　amok　among　the　statuary；　and　had；　to　the　intense　chagrin　of　her　uncle　and　aunt；　very　worthy　persons；　been　arrested　and　brought　before　a　magistrate；　who　dismissed　her　with　a　warning　to　her　relations　that　she　had　better　be　sent　home　to　Devonshire　and　'looked　after'。　Susan　Flood's　return　to　us；　however；　was　a　triumph；　she　had　no　sense　of　having　acted　injudiciously　or　unbecomingly；　she　was　ready　to　recount　to　every　one；　in　vague　and　veiled　language；　how　she　had　been　able　to　testify　for　the　Lord　'in　the　very　temple　of　Belial'；　for　so　she　poetically　described　the　Crystal　Palace。　She　was；　of　course；　in　a　state　of　unbridled　hysteria；　but　such　physical　expl