father and son-第49章
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o home； I might spend as pocket money the railway fare I thus saved。 Such considerable sums I fostered in order to buy with them editions of the poets。 These were not in those days； as they are now； at the beck and call of every purse； and the attainment of each little masterpiece was a separate triumph。 In particular I shall never forget the excitement of reaching at length the exorbitant price the bookseller asked for the only； although imperfect； edition of the poems of S。 T。 Coleridge。 At last I could meet his demand； and my friend and I went down to consummate the solemn purchase。 Coming away with our treasure； we read aloud from the orange coloured volume； in turns； as we strolled along； until at last we sat down on the bulging root of an elm tree in a secluded lane。 Here we stayed； in a sort of poetical nirvana； reading； reading； forgetting the passage of time； until the hour of our neglected mid…day meal was a long while past； and we had to hurry home to bread and cheese and a scolding。
There was occasionally some trouble about my reading； but now not much nor often。 I was rather adroit； and careful not to bring prominently into sight anything of a literary kind which could become a stone of stumbling。 But； when I was nearly sixteen； I made a purchase which brought me into sad trouble； and was the cause of a permanent wound to my self…respect。 I had long coveted in the bookshop window a volume in which the poetical works of Ben Jonson and Christopher Marlowe were said to be combined。 This I bought at length； and I carried it with me to devour as I trod the desolate road that brought me along the edge of the cliff on Saturday afternoons。 Of Ben Jonson I could make nothing； but when I turned to 'Hero and Leander'； I was lifted to a heaven of passion and music。 It was a marvellous revelation of romantic beauty to me； and as I paced along that lonely and exquisite highway； with its immense command of the sea； and its peeps every now and then； through slanting thickets； far down to the snow… white shingle； I lifted up my voice； singing the verses； as I strolled along：
Buskins of shells； all silver'd； used she； And branch'd with blushing coral to the knee； Where sparrows perched； of hollow pearl and gold； Such as the world would wonder to behold；
so it went on； and I thought I had never read anything so lovely；
Amorous Leander； beautiful and young； Whose tragedy divine Musaeus sung；
it all seemed to my fancy intoxicating beyond anything I had ever even dreamed of； since I had not yet become acquainted with any of the modern romanticists。
When I reached home； tired out with enthusiasm and exercise； I must needs； so soon as I had eaten； search out my stepmother that she might be a partner in my joys。 It is remarkable to me now； and a disconcerting proof of my still almost infantile innocence； that； having induced her to settle to her knitting； I began； without hesitation； to read Marlowe's voluptuous poem aloud to that blameless Christian gentlewoman。 We got on very well in the opening； but at the episode of Cupid's pining； my stepmother's needles began nervously to clash； and when we launched on the description of Leander's person； she interrupted me by saying； rather sharply； 'Give me that book； please； I should like to read the rest to myself。' I resigned the reading in amazement； and was stupefied to see her take the volume； shut it with a snap and hide it under her needlework。 Nor could I extract from her another word on the subject。
The matter passed from my mind； and I was therefore extremely alarmed when； soon after my going to bed that night； my Father came into my room with a pale face and burning eyes； the prey of violent perturbation。 He set down the candle and stood by the bed； and it was some time before he could resolve on a form of speech。 Then he denounced me； in unmeasured terms； for bringing into the house； for possessing at all or reading； so abominable a book。 He explained that my stepmother had shown it to him； and that he had looked through it； and had burned it。
The sentence in his tirade which principally affected me was this。 He said； 'You will soon be leaving us； and going up to lodgings in London； and if your landlady should come into your room； and find such a book lying about； she would immediately set you down as a profligate。' I did not understand this at all； and it seems to me now that the fact that I had so very simply and childishly volunteered to read the verses to my stepmother should have proved to my Father that I connected it with no ideas of an immoral nature。
I was greatly wounded and offended； but my indignation was smothered up in the alarm and excitement which followed the news that I was to go up to live in lodgings； and； as it was evident； alone； in London。 Of this no hint or whisper had previously reached me。 On reflection； I can but admit that my Father； who was little accustomed to seventeenth…century literature； must have come across some startling exposures in Ben Jonson； and probably never reached 'Hero and Leander' at all。 The artistic effect of such poetry on an innocently pagan mind did not come within the circle of his experience。 He judged the outspoken Elizabethan poets； no doubt； very much in the spirit of the problematical landlady。
Of the world outside； of the dim wild whirlpool of London； I was much afraid； but I was now ready to be willing to leave the narrow Devonshire circle； to see the last of the red mud； of the dreary village street； of the plethoric elders； to hear the last of the drawling voices of the 'Saints'。 Yet I had a great difficulty in persuading myself that I could ever be happy away from home； and again I compared my lot with that of one of the speckled soldier…crabs that roamed about in my Father's aquarium； dragging after them great whorl…shells。 They； if by chance they were turned out of their whelk…habitations； trailed about a pale soft body in search of another house； visibly broken…hearted and the victims of every ignominious accident。
My spirits were divided pathetically between the wish to stay on； a guarded child； and to proceed into the world； a budding man； and； in my utter ignorance； I sought in vain to conjure up what my immediate future would be。 My Father threw no light upon the subject； for he had not formed any definite idea of what I could possibly do to earn an honest living。 As a matter of fact I was to stay another year at school and home。
This last year of my boyish life passed rapidly and pleasantly。 My sluggish brain waked up at last and I was able to study with application。 In the public examinations I did pretty well； and may even have been thought something of a credit to the school。 Yet I formed no close associations； and I even contrived to avoid； as I had afterwards occasion to regret； such lessons as were distasteful to me； and therefore particularly valuable。 But I read with unchecked voracity； and in several curious directions。 Shakespeare now passed into my possession entire； in the shape of a reprint more hideous and more offensive to the eyesight than would in these days appear conceivable。 I made acquaintance with Keats； who entirely captivated me； with Shelley； whose 'Queen Mab' at first repelled me from the threshold of his edifice； and with Wordsworth； for the exercise of whose magic I was still far too young。 My Father presented me with the entire bulk of Southey's stony verse； which I found it impossible to penetrate； but my stepmother lent me The Golden Treasury； in which almost everything seemed exquisite。
Upon this extension of my intellectual powers； however； there did not follow any spirit of doubt or hostility to the faith。 On the contrary； at first there came a considerable quickening of fervour。 My prayers became less frigid and mechanical； I no longer avoided as far as possible the contemplation of religious ideas； I began to search the Scriptures for myself with interest and sympathy； if scarcely with ardour。 I began to perceive； without animosity； the strange narrowness of my Father's system； which seemed to take into consideration only a selected circle of persons； a group of disciples peculiarly illuminated； and to have no message whatever for the wider Christia
