all roads lead to calvary-第3章

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CHAPTER　II



One　of　Joan's　earliest　recollections　was　the　picture　of　herself　standing　before　the　high　cheval　glass　in　her　mother's　dressing…　room。　　Her　clothes　lay　scattered　far　and　wide；　falling　where　she　had　flung　them；　not　a　shred　of　any　kind　of　covering　was　left　to　her。　　She　must　have　been　very　small；　for　she　could　remember　looking　up　and　seeing　high　above　her　head　the　two　brass　knobs　by　which　the　glass　was　fastened　to　its　frame。　　Suddenly；　out　of　the　upper　portion　of　the　glass；　there　looked　a　scared　red　face。　　It　hovered　there　a　moment；　and　over　it　in　swift　succession　there　passed　the　expressions；　first　of　petrified　amazement；　secondly　of　shocked　indignation；　and　thirdly　of　righteous　wrath。　　And　then　it　swooped　down　upon　her；　and　the　image　in　the　glass　became　a　confusion　of　small　naked　arms　and　legs　mingled　with　green　cotton　gloves　and　purple　bonnet　strings。

〃You　young　imp　of　Satan！〃　demanded　Mrs。　Mundayher　feelings　of　outraged　virtue　exaggerating　perhaps　her　real　sentiments。　　〃What　are　you　doing？〃

〃Go　away。　　I'se　looking　at　myself；〃　had　explained　Joan；　struggling　furiously　to　regain　the　glass。

〃But　where　are　your　clothes？〃　was　Mrs。　Munday's　wonder。

〃I'se　tooked　them　off；〃　explained　Joan。　　A　piece　of　information　that　really；　all　things　considered；　seemed　unnecessary。

〃But　can't　you　see　yourself；　you　wicked　child；　without　stripping　yourself　as　naked　as　you　were　born？〃

〃No；〃　maintained　Joan　stoutly。　　〃I　hate　clothes。〃　　As　a　matter　of　fact　she　didn't；　even　in　those　early　days。　　On　the　contrary；　one　of　her　favourite　amusements　was　〃dressing　up。〃　　This　sudden　overmastering　desire　to　arrive　at　the　truth　about　herself　had　been　a　new　conceit。

〃I　wanted　to　see　myself。　　Clothes　ain't　me；〃　was　all　she　would　or　could　vouchsafe；　and　Mrs。　Munday　had　shook　her　head；　and　had　freely　confessed　that　there　were　things　beyond　her　and　that　Joan　was　one　of　them；　and　had　succeeded；　partly　by　force；　partly　by　persuasion；　in　restoring　to　Joan　once　more　the　semblance　of　a　Christian　child。

It　was　Mrs。　Munday；　poor　soul；　who　all　unconsciously　had　planted　the　seeds　of　disbelief　in　Joan's　mind。　　Mrs。　Munday's　God；　from　Joan's　point　of　view；　was　a　most　objectionable　personage。　　He　talked　a　lotor　rather　Mrs。　Munday　talked　for　Himabout　His　love　for　little　children。　　But　it　seemed　He　only　loved　them　when　they　were　good。　　Joan　was　under　no　delusions　about　herself。　　If　those　were　His　terms；　well；　then；　so　far　as　she　could　see；　He　wasn't　going　to　be　of　much　use　to　her。　　Besides；　if　He　hated　naughty　children；　why　did　He　make　them　naughty？　　At　a　moderate　estimate　quite　half　Joan's　wickedness；　so　it　seemed　to　Joan；　came　to　her　unbidden。　　Take　for　example　that　self…examination　before　the　cheval　glass。　　The　idea　had　come　into　her　mind。　　It　had　never　occurred　to　her　that　it　was　wicked。　　If；　as　Mrs。　Munday　explained；　it　was　the　Devil　that　had　whispered　it　to　her；　then　what　did　God　mean　by　allowing　the　Devil　to　go　about　persuading　little　girls　to　do　indecent　things？　　God　could　do　everything。　　Why　didn't　He　smash　the　Devil？　　It　seemed　to　Joan　a　mean　trick；　look　at　it　how　you　would。　Fancy　leaving　a　little　girl　to　fight　the　Devil　all　by　herself。　　And　then　get　angry　because　the　Devil　won！　　Joan　came　to　cordially　dislike　Mrs。　Munday's　God。

Looking　back　it　was　easy　enough　to　smile；　but　the　agony　of　many　nights　when　she　had　lain　awake　for　hours　battling　with　her　childish　terrors　had　left　a　burning　sense　of　anger　in　Joan's　heart。　　Poor　mazed；　bewildered　Mrs。　Munday；　preaching　the　eternal　damnation　of　the　wickedwho　had　loved　her；　who　had　only　thought　to　do　her　duty；　the　blame　was　not　hers。　　But　that　a　religion　capable　of　inflicting　such　suffering　upon　the　innocent　should　still　be　preached；　maintained　by　the　State！　　That　its　educated　followers　no　longer　believed　in　a　physical　Hell；　that　its　more　advanced　clergy　had　entered　into　a　conspiracy　of　silence　on　the　subject　was　no　answer。　The　great　mass　of　the　people　were　not　educated。　　Official　Christendom　in　every　country　still　preached　the　everlasting　torture　of　the　majority　of　the　human　race　as　a　well　thought　out　part　of　the　Creator's　scheme。　　No　leader　had　been　bold　enough　to　come　forward　and　denounce　it　as　an　insult　to　his　God。　　As　one　grew　older；　kindly　mother　Nature；　ever　seeking　to　ease　the　self…inflicted　burdens　of　her　foolish　brood；　gave　one　forgetfulness；　insensibility。　　The　condemned　criminal　puts　the　thought　of　the　gallows　away　from　him　as　long　as　may　be：　　eats；　and　sleeps　and　even　jokes。　　Man's　soul　grows　pachydermoid。　　But　the　children！　　Their　sensitive　brains　exposed　to　every　cruel　breath。　　No　philosophic　doubt　permitted　to　them。　　No　learned　disputation　on　the　relationship　between　the　literal　and　the　allegorical　for　the　easing　of　their　frenzied　fears。　　How　many　million　tiny　white…faced　figures　scattered　over　Christian　Europe　and　America；　stared　out　each　night　into　a　vision　of　black　horror；　how　many　million　tiny　hands　clutched　wildly　at　the　bedclothes。　　The　Society　for　the　Prevention　of　Cruelty　to　Children；　if　they　had　done　their　duty；　would　have　prosecuted　before　now　the　Archbishop　of　Canterbury。

Of　course　she　would　go　to　Hell。　　As　a　special　kindness　some　generous　relative　had；　on　Joan's　seventh　birthday；　given　her　an　edition　of　Dante's　〃Inferno；〃　with　illustrations　by　Dore。　　From　it　she　was　able　to　form　some　notion　of　what　her　eternity　was　likely　to　be。　　And　God　all　the　while　up　in　His　Heaven；　surrounded　by　that　glorious　band　of　praise…trumpeting　angels；　watching　her　out　of　the　corner　of　His　eye。　　Her　courage　saved　her　from　despair。　　Defiance　came　to　her　aid。　　Let　Him　send　her　to　Hell！　　She　was　not　going　to　pray　to　Him　and　make　up　to　Him。　　He　was　a　wicked　God。　　Yes；　He　was：　a　cruel；　wicked　God。　　And　one　night　she　told　Him　so　to　His　face。

It　had　been　a　pretty　crowded　day；　even　for　so　busy　a　sinner　as　little　Joan。　　It　was　springtime；　and　they　had　gone　into　the　country　for　her　mother's　health。　　Maybe　it　was　the　season：　　a　stirring　of　the　human　sap；　conducing　to　that　feeling　of　being　〃too　big　for　one's　boots；〃　as　the　saying　is。　　A　dangerous　period　of　the　year。　Indeed；　on　the　principle　that　prevention　is　better　than　cure；　Mrs。　Munday　had　made　it　a　custom　during　April　and　May　to　administer　to　Joan　a　cooling　mixture；　but　on　this　occasion　had　unfortunately　come　away　without　it。　　Joan；　dressed　for　use　rather　than　show；　and　without　either　shoes　or　stockings；　had　stolen　stealthily　downstairs：　　something　seemed　to　be　calling　to　her。　　Silently　〃like　a　thief　in　the　night；〃　to　adopt　Mrs。　Munday's　metaphorhad　slipped　the　heavy　bolts；　had　joined　the　thousand　creatures　of　the　woodhad　danced　and　leapt　and　shouted；　had　behaved；　in　short；　more　as　if　she　had　been　a　Pagan　nymph　than　a　happy　English　child。　　She　had　regained　the　house　unnoticed；　as　she　thought；　the　Devil；　no　doubt；　assisting　her；　and　had　hidden　her　wet　clothes　in　the　bottom　of　a　mighty　chest。　　Deceitfulness　in　her　heart；　she　had　greeted　Mrs。　Munday　in　sleepy　tones　from　beneath　the　sheets；　and　before　breakfast；　assailed　by　suspicious　questions；　had　told　a　deliberate　lie。　　Later　in　the　morning；　during　an　argument　with　an　active　young　pig　who　was　willing　enough　to　play　at　Red　Riding　Hood　so　far　as　eating　things　out　of　a　basket　was　concerned；　but　who　would　not　wear　a　night…cap；　she　had　used　a　wicked　word。　　In　the　afternoon　she　〃might　have　killed〃　the　farmer's　only　son　and　heir。　　They　had　had　a　row。　　In　one　of　those　sad　lapses　from　the　higher　Christian　standards　into　which　Satan　was　always　egging　her；　she　had　pushed　him；　and　he　had　tumbled　head　over　heels　into　the　horse…pond。　　The　reason；　that　instead　of　lying　there　and　drowning　he　had　got　up　and　walked　back　to　the　house　howling　fit　to　wake　the　Seven　Sleepers；　was　that　God；　watching　over　little　children；　had　arranged　for　the　incident　taking　place　on　that　side　of　the　pond　where　it　was　shallow。　　Had　the　scrimmage　occurred　on　the　opposite　bank；　beneath　which　the　water　was　much　deeper；　Joan　in　all　probability　would　have　had　murder　on　her　soul。　　It　seemed　to　Joan　that　if　God；　all…　powerful　and　all…foreseeing；　had　been　so　careful　in　selecting　the　site；　He　might　with　equal　ease　have　prevented　the　row　from　ever　taking　place。　　Why　couldn't　the　little　beast　have　been　guided　back　from　school　through　the