father and son-第23章
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There was one exception to my unwillingness to join in the pastoral labours of Mary Grace。 When she announced； on a fine afternoon； that we were going to Pavor and Barton； I was always agog to start。 These were two hamlets in our parish； and； I should suppose； the original home of its population。 Pavor was； even then； decayed almost to extinction； but Barton preserved its desultory street of ancient； detached cottages。 Each； however poor； had a wild garden around it； and； where the inhabitants possessed some pride in their surroundings； the roses and the jasmines and that distinguished creeper；which one sees nowhere at its best but in Devonshire cottage…gardens；the stately cotoneaster； made the whole place a bower。 Barton was in vivid contrast to our own harsh； open； squalid village； with its mean modern houses； its absence of all vegetation。 The ancient thatched cottages of Barton were shut in by moist hills； and canopied by ancient trees； they were approached along a deep lane which was all a wonder and a revelation to me that spring； since； in the very words of Shelley：
There in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine； Green cow…bind and the moonlight…coloured may； And cherry blossoms； and white cups； whose wine Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day； And wild roses； and ivy serpentine With its dark buds and leaves； wandering astray。
Around and beyond Barton there lay fairyland。 All was mysterious； unexplored； rich with infinite possibilities。 I should one day enter it； the sword of make…believe in my hand； the cap of courage on my head； 'when you are a big boy'； said the oracle of Mary Grace。 For the present； we had to content ourselves with being an unadventurous couplea little woman； bent half…double； and a preternaturally sedate small boy as we walked very slowly； side by side； conversing on terms of high familiarity； in which Biblical and colloquial phrases were quaintly jumbled； through the sticky red mud of the Pavor lanes with Barton as a bourne before us。
When we came home； my Father would sometimes ask me for particulars。 Where had we been； whom had we found at home； what testimony had those visited been able to give of the Lord's goodness to them； what had Mary Grace replied in the way of exhortation； reproof or condolence？ These questions I hated at the time； but they were very useful to me； since they gave me the habit of concentrating my attention on what was going on in the course of our visits； in case I might be called upon to give a report。 My Father was very kind in the matter； he cultivated my powers of expression； he did not snub me when I failed to be intelligent。 But I overheard Miss Marks and Mary Grace discussing the whole question under the guise of referring to 'you know whom； not a hundred miles hence'； fancying that I could not recognize their little ostrich because its head was in a bag of metaphor。 I understood perfectly； and gathered that they both of them thought this business of my going into undrained cottages injudicious。 Accordingly； I was by degrees taken 'visiting' only when Mary Grace was going into the country…hamlets； and then I was usually left outside； to skip among the flowers and stalk the butterflies。
I must not； however； underestimate the very prominent part taken all through this spring and summer of 1858 by the collection of specimens on the seashore。 My Father had returned； the chagrin of his failure in theorizing now being mitigated； to what was his real work in life； the practical study of animal forms in detail。 He was not a biologist； in the true sense of the term。 That luminous indication which Flaubert gives of what the action of the scientific mind should be； 'affranchissant esprit et pesant les mondes； sans haine； sans peur； sans pitie； sans amour et sans Dieu'； was opposed in every segment to the attitude of my Father； who； nevertheless； was a man of very high scientific attainment。
But； again I repeat； he was not a philosopher； he was incapable； by temperament and education； of forming broad generalizations and of escaping in a vast survey from the troublesome pettiness of detail。 He saw everything through a lens； nothing in the immensity of nature。 Certain senses were absent in him； I think that； with all his justice； he had no conception of the importance of liberty； with all his intelligence； the boundaries of the atmosphere in which his mind could think at all were always close about him； with all his faith in the Word of God； he had no confidence in the Divine Benevolence； and with all his passionate piety； he habitually mistook fear for love。
It was down on the shore； tramping along the pebbled terraces of the beach； clambering over the great blocks of fallen conglomerate which broke the white curve with rufous promontories that jutted into the sea； or； finally； bending over those shallow tidal pools in the limestone rocks which were our proper hunting… ground；it was in such circumstances as these that my Father became most easy； most happy； most human。 That hard look across his brows； which it wearied me to see； the look that came from sleepless anxiety of conscience； faded away； and left the dark countenance still always stern indeed； but serene and unupbraiding。 Those pools were our mirrors； in which； reflected in the dark hyaline and framed by the sleek and shining fronds of oar…weed there used to appear the shapes of a middle…aged man and a funny little boy； equally eager； and； I almost find the presumption to say； equally well prepared fog business。
If anyone goes down to those shores now； if man or boy seeks to follow in our traces； let him realize at once； before he takes the trouble to roll up his sleeves； that his zeal will end in labour lost。 There is nothing； now； where in our days there was so much。 Then the rocks between tide and tide were submarine gardens of a beauty that seemed often to be fabulous； and was positively delusive； since； if we delicately lifted the weedcurtains of a windless pool； though we might for a moment see its sides and floor paven with living blossoms； ivory…white； rosy…red； grange and amethyst； yet all that panoply would melt away； furled into the hollow rock； if we so much as dropped a pebble in to disturb the magic dream。
Half a century ago； in many parts of the coast of Devonshire and Cornwall； where the limestone at the water's edge is wrought into crevices and hollows； the tideline was； like Keats' Grecian vase； 'a still unravished bride of quietness'。 These cups and basins were always full； whether the tide was high or low； and the only way in which they were affected was that twice in the twenty…four hours they were replenished by cold streams from the great sea； and then twice were left brimming to be vivified by the temperate movement of the upper air。 They were living flower…beds； so exquisite in their perfection； that my Father； in spite of his scientific requirements； used not seldom to pause before he began to rifle them； ejaculating that it was indeed a pity to disturb such congregated beauty。 The antiquity of these rock…pools； and the infinite succession of the soft and radiant forms； sea… anemones； seaweeds； shells； fishes； which had inhabited them； undisturbed since the creation of the world； used to occupy my Father's fancy。 We burst in； he used to say； where no one had ever thought of intruding before； and if the Garden of Eden had been situate in Devonshire； Adam and Eve； stepping lightly down to bathe in the rainbow…coloured spray； would have seen the identical sights that we now saw；the great prawns gliding like transparent launches； anthea waving in the twilight its thick white waxen tentacles； and the fronds of the duke faintly streaming on the water like huge red banners in some reverted atmosphere。
All this is long over and done with。 The ring of living beauty drawn about our shores was a very thin and fragile one。 It had existed all those centuries solely in consequence of the indifference； the blissful ignorance of man。 These rockbasins； fringed by corallines； filled with still water almost as pellucid as the upper air itself； thronged with beautiful sensitive forms of life； they exist no longer； they are all profaned； and emptied； and vulgarized。 An army of 'collector
