father and son-第47章
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mories of my boarding…school life are monotonous and vague。 It was a period during which； as it appears to me now on looking back； the stream of my spiritual nature spread out into a shallow pool which was almost stagnant。 I was labouring to gain those elements of conventional knowledge； which had； in many cases； up to that time been singularly lacking。 But my brain was starved； and my intellectual perceptions were veiled。 Elder persons who in later years would speak to me frankly of my school…days assured me that； while I had often struck them as a smart and quaint and even interesting child； all promise seemed to fade out of me as a schoolboy； and that those who were most inclined to be indulgent gave up the hope that I should prove a man in a way remarkable。 This was particularly the case with the most indulgent of my protectors； my refined and gentle stepmother。
As this record can； however； have no value that is not based on its rigorous adhesion to the truth； I am bound to say that the dreariness and sterility of my school…life were more apparent than real。 I was pursuing certain lines of moral and mental development all the time； and since my schoolmasters and my school fellows combined in thinking me so dull； I will display a tardy touch of 'proper spirit' and ask whether it may not partly have been because they were themselves so commonplace。 I think that if some drops of sympathy； that magic dew of Paradise； had fallen upon my desert； it might have blossomed like the rose； or； at all events； like that chimerical flower； the Rose of Jericho。 As it was； the conventionality around me； the intellectual drought； gave me no opportunity of outward growth。 They did not destroy； but they cooped up； and rendered slow and inefficient； that internal life which continued； as I have said； to live on unseen。 This took the form of dreams and speculations； in the course of which I went through many tortuous processes of the mind； the actual aims of which were futile； although the movements themselves were useful。 If I may more minutely define my meaning； I would say that in my schooldays； without possessing thoughts； I yet prepared my mind for thinking； and learned how to think。
The great subject of my curiosity at this time was words； as instruments of expression。 I was incessant in adding to my vocabulary； and in finding accurate and individual terms for things。 Here； too； the exercise preceded the employment； since I was busy providing myself with words before I had any ideas to express with them。 When I read Shakespeare and came upon the passage in which Prospero tells Caliban that he had no thoughts until his master taught him words； I remember starting with amazement at the poet's intuition； for such a Caliban had I been：
I pitied thee； Took pains to make thee speak； taught thee each hour One thing or other； when thou didst not； savage； Know thine own meaning； but wouldst gabble； like A thing most brutish； I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them know。
For my Prosperos I sought vaguely in such books as I had access to； and I was conscious that as the inevitable word seized hold of me； with it out of the darkness into strong light came the image and the idea。
My Father possessed a copy of Bailey's Etymological Dictionary； a book published early in the eighteenth century。 Over this I would pore for hours； playing with the words in a fashion which I can no longer reconstruct； and delighting in the savour of the rich； old…fashioned country phrases。 My Father finding me thus employed； fell to wondering at the nature of my pursuit； and I could offer him； indeed； no very intelligible explanation of it。 He urged me to give up such idleness； and to make practical use of language。 For this purpose he conceived an exercise which he obliged me to adopt； although it was hateful to me。 He sent me forth； it might be； up the lane to Warbury Hill and round home by the copses； or else down one chine to the sea and along the shingle to the next cutting in the cliff； and so back by way of the village； and he desired me to put down； in language as full as I could； all that I had seen in each excursion。 As I have said； this practice was detestable and irksome to me； but； as I look back； I am inclined to believe it to have been the most salutary； the most practical piece of training which my Father ever gave me。 It forced me to observe sharply and clearly； to form visual impressions； to retain them in the brain； and to clothe them in punctilious and accurate language。
It was in my fifteenth year that I became again； this time intelligently； acquainted with Shakespeare。 I got hold of a single play； The Tempest； in a school edition； prepared； I suppose； for one of the university examinations which were then being instituted in the provinces。 This I read through and through； not disdaining the help of the notes； and revelling in the glossary。 I studied The Tempest as I had hitherto studied no classic work； and it filled my whole being with music and romance。 This book was my own hoarded possession； the rest of Shakespeare's works were beyond my hopes。 But gradually I contrived to borrow a volume here and a volume there。 I completed The Merchant of Venice； read Cymbeline； Julius Caesar and Much Ado； most of the others； I think； remained closed to me for a long time。 But these were enough to steep my horizon with all the colours of sunrise。 It was due； no doubt； to my bringing up； that the plays never appealed to me as bounded by the exigencies of a stage or played by actors。 The images they raised in my mind were of real people moving in the open air； and uttering； in the natural play of life； sentiments that were clothed in the most lovely； and yet； as it seemed to me； the most obvious and the most inevitable language。
It was while I was thus under the full spell of the Shakespearean necromancy that a significant event occurred。 My Father took me up to London for the first time since my infancy。 Our visit was one of a few days only； and its purpose was that we might take part in some enormous Evangelical conference。 We stayed in a dark hotel off the Strand； where I found the noise by day and night very afflicting。 When we were not at the conference； I spent long hours； among crumbs and bluebottle flies； in the coffee…room of this hotel； my Father being busy at the British Museum and the Royal Society。 The conference was held in an immense hall； somewhere in the north of London。 I remember my short…sighted sense of the terrible vastness of the crowd； with rings on rings of dim white faces fading in the fog。 My Father； as a privileged visitor； was obliged with seats on the platform； and we were in the heart of the first really large assemblage of persons that I had ever seen。
The interminable ritual of prayers； hymns and addresses left no impression on my memory； but my attention was suddenly stung into life by a remark。 An elderly man； fat and greasy； with a voice like a bassoon； and an imperturbable assurance； was denouncing the spread of infidelity； and the lukewarmness of professing Christians； who refrained from battling with the wickedness at their doors。 They were like the Laodiceans； whom the angel of the Apocalypse spewed out of his mouth。 For instance； who； the orator asked； is now rising to check the outburst of idolatry in our midst？ 'At this very moment；' he went on； 'there is proceeding； unreproved； a blasphemous celebration of the birth of Shakespeare； a lost soul now suffering for his sins in hell！' My sensation was that of one who has suddenly been struck on the head； stars and sparks beat around me。 If some person I loved had been grossly insulted in my presence； I could not have felt more powerless in anguish。 No one in that vast audience raised a word of protest； and my spirits fell to their nadir。 This； be it remarked； was the earliest intimation that had reached me of the tercentenary of the Birth at Stratford； and I had not the least idea what could have provoked the outburst of outraged godliness。
But Shakespeare was certainly in the air。 When we returned to the hotel that noon； my Father of his own accord reverted to the subject。 I held my breath； prepared to endure fr
