father and son-第6章
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The declaration of war with Russia brought the first breath of outside life into our Calvinist cloister。 My parents took in a daily newspaper； which they had never done before； and events in picturesque places； which my Father and I looked out on the map； were eagerly discussed。 One of my vividest early memories can be dated exactly。 I was playing about the house； and suddenly burst into the breakfast…room； where； close to the door； sat an amazing figure； a very tall young man； as stiff as my doll； in a gorgeous scarlet tunic。 Quite far away from him； at her writing…table； my Mother sat with her Bible open before her； and was urging the gospel plan of salvation on his acceptance。 She promptly told me to run away and play； but I had seen a great sight。 This guardsman was in the act of leaving for the Crimea； and his adventures；he was converted in consequence of my Mother's instruction；were afterwards told by her in a tract； called 'The Guardsman of the Alma'； of which I believe that more than half a million copies were circulated。 He was killed in that battle； and this added an extraordinary lustre to my dream of him。 I see him still in my mind's eye； large； stiff； and unspeakably brilliant； seated； from respect； as near as possible to our parlour door。 This apparition gave reality to my subsequent conversations with the soldier doll。
That same victory of the Alma； which was reported in London on my fifth birthday； is also marked very clearly in my memory by a family circumstance。 We were seated at breakfast； at our small round table drawn close up to the window； my Father with his back to the light。 Suddenly； he gave a sort of cry； and read out the opening sentences from The Times announcing a battle in the valley of the Alma。 No doubt the strain of national anxiety had been very great； for both he and my Mother seemed deeply excited。 He broke off his reading when the fact of the decisive victory was assured； and he and my Mother sank simultaneously on their knees in front of their tea and bread…and…butter； while in a loud voice my Father gave thanks to the God of Battles。 This patriotism was the more remarkable； in that he had schooled himself； as he believed； to put his 'heavenly citizenship' above all earthly duties。 To those who said： 'Because you are a Christian； surely you are not less an Englishman？' he would reply by shaking his head； and by saying： 'I am a citizen of no earthly State'。 He did not realize that； in reality； and to use a cant phrase not yet coined in 1854； there existed in Great Britain no more thorough 'Jingo' than he。
Another instance of the remarkable way in which the interests of daily life were mingled in our strange household； with the practice of religion； made an impression upon my memory。 We had all three been much excited by a report that a certain dark geometer…moth； generated in underground stables； had been met with in Islington。 Its name； I think is； 'Boletobia fuliginaria'； and I believe that it is excessively rare in England。 We were sitting at family prayers； on a summer morning； I think in 1855； when through the open window a brown moth came sailing。 My Mother immediately interrupted the reading of the Bible by saying to my Father； 'O！ Henry； do you think that can be 〃Boletobia〃？' My Father rose up from the sacred book； examined the insect； which had now perched； and replied： 'No！ it is only the common Vapourer； 〃Orgyia antiqua〃！'； resuming his seat； and the exposition of the Word； without any apology or embarrassment。
In the course of this； my sixth year； there happened a series of minute and soundless incidents which； elementary as they may seem when told； were second in real importance to none in my mental history。 The recollection of them confirms me in the opinion that certain leading features in each human soul are inherent to it； and cannot be accounted for by suggestion or training。 In my own case； I was most carefully withdrawn； like Princess Blanchefleur in her marble fortress； from every outside influence whatever； yet to me the instinctive life came as unexpectedly as her lover came to her in the basket of roses。 What came to me was the consciousness of self； as a force and as a companion； and it came as the result of one or two shocks； which I will relate。
In consequence of hearing so much about an Omniscient God； a being of supernatural wisdom and penetration who was always with us； who made； in fact； a fourth in our company； I had come to think of Him； not without awe； but with absolute confidence。 My Father and Mother； in their serene discipline of me； never argued with one another； never even differed； their wills seemed absolutely one。 My Mother always deferred to my Father； and in his absence spoke of him to me； as if he were all…wise。 I confused him in some sense with God； at all events I believed that my Father knew everything and saw everything。 One morning in my sixth year； my Mother and I were alone in the morning…room； when my Father came in and announced some fact to us。 I was standing on the rug； gazing at him； and when he made this statement； I remember turning quickly； in embarrassment； and looking into the fire。 The shock to me was as that of a thunderbolt； for what my Father had said 'was not true'。 My Mother and I； who had been present at the trifling incident； were aware that it had not happened exactly as it had been reported to him。 My Mother gently told him so； and he accepted the correction。 Nothing could possibly have been more trifling to my parents； but to me it meant an epoch。 Here was the appalling discovery； never suspected before； that my Father was not as God； and did not know everything。 The shock was not caused by any suspicion that he was not telling the truth； as it appeared to him； but by the awful proof that he was not； as I had supposed； omniscient。
This experience was followed by another； which confirmed the first； but carried me a great deal further。 In our little back…garden； my Father had built up a rockery for ferns and mosses and from the water…supply of the house he had drawn a leaden pipe so that it pierced upwards through the rockery and produced； when a tap was turned； a pretty silvery parasol of water。 The pipe was exposed somewhere near the foot of the rockery。 One day； two workmen； who were doing some repairs； left their tools during the dinner…hour in the back…garden； and as I was marching about I suddenly thought that to see whether one of these tools could make a hole in the pipe would be attractive。 It did make such a hole； quite easily； and then the matter escaped my mind。 But a day or two afterwards； when my Father came in to dinner； he was very angry。 He had turned the tap； and instead of the fountain arching at the summit； there had been a rush of water through a hole at the foot。 The rockery was absolutely ruined。
Of course I realized in a moment what I had done； and I sat frozen with alarm； waiting to be denounced。 But my Mother remarked on the visit of the plumbers two or three days before； and my Father instantly took up the suggestion。 No doubt that was it； the mischievous fellows had thought it amusing to stab the pipe and spoil the fountain。 No suspicion fell on me； no question was asked of me。 I sat there； turned to stone within； but outwardly sympathetic and with unchecked appetite。
We attribute； I believe； too many moral ideas to little children。 It is obvious that in this tremendous juncture I ought to have been urged forward by good instincts； or held back by naughty ones。 But I am sure that the fear which I experienced for a short time； and which so unexpectedly melted away； was a purely physical one。 It had nothing to do with the motions of a contrite heart。 As to the destruction of the fountain； I was sorry about that； for my own sake； since I admired the skipping water extremely and had had no idea that I was spoiling its display。 But the emotions which now thronged within me； and which led me； with an almost unwise alacrity； to seek solitude in the back… garden； were not moral at all； they were intellectual。 I was not ashamed of having successfullyand so surprisinglydeceived my parents by my crafty silence； I looked upon that as a providential escape； and dismissed all further though
