the children-第9章
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than of mere straits。 These temperate islands would be better
called the Ocean Islands。 When Edouard Pailleron was a boy and
wrote poetry； he composed a letter to Victor Hugo； the address
whereof was a matter of some thought。 The final decision was to
direct it； 〃A Victor Hugo； Ocean。〃 It reached him。 It even
received a reply： 〃I am the Past； you are the Future； I am； etc。〃
If an English boy had had the same idea the name of the Channel
Islands would have spoilt it。 〃A Victor Hugo； La Manche；〃 would
hardly have interested the postal authorities so much； but 〃the
Channel〃 would have had no respect at all。 Indeed； this last is
suggestive of nothing but steamers and of grey skies inland
formless grey skies； undesigned； with their thin cloud torn to
slender rags by a perpetual wind。
As for the children； to whom belongs the margin of the sea； machine…
bathing at eleven o'clock will hardly furnish them with a magical
early memory。 Time was when this was made penitential to them； like
the rest of life； upon a principle that no longer prevails。 It was
vulgarized for them and made violent。 A bathing woman； type of all
ugliness in their sensitive eyes； came striding； shapeless； through
the unfriendly sea； seized them if they were very young； ducked
them； and returned them to the chilly machine； generally in the
futile and superfluous saltness of tears。 〃Too much of water had
they；〃 poor infants。
None the less is the barren shore the children's； and St。 Augustine；
Isaac Newton； and Wordsworth had not a vision of sea…beaches without
a child there。
THE BOY
After an infancy of more than common docility and a young childhood
of few explicit revolts； the boy of twelve years old enters upon a
phase which the bystander may not well understand but may make shift
to note as an impression。
Like other subtle things； his position is hardly to be described but
by negatives。 Above all； he is not demonstrative。 The days are
long gone by when he said he wanted a bicycle； a top hat； and a
pipe。 One or two of these things he has； and he takes them without
the least swagger。 He avoids expression of any kind。 Any
satisfaction he may feel with things as they are is rather to be
surprised in his manner than perceived in his action。 Mr。 Jaggers；
when it befell him to be astonished； showed it by a stop of manner；
for an indivisible momentnot by a pause in the thing he chanced to
be about。 In like manner the boy cannot prevent his most innocent
pleasures from arresting him。
He will not endure （albeit he does not confess so much） to be told
to do anything； at least in that citadel of his freedom； his home。
His elders probably give him as few orders as possible。 He will
almost ingeniously evade any that are inevitably or thoughtlessly
inflicted upon him； but if he does but succeed in only postponing
his obedience； he has； visibly； done something for his own relief。
It is less convenient that he should hold mere questions； addressed
to him in all good faith； as in some sort an attempt upon his
liberty。
Questions about himself one might understand to be an outrage。 But
it is against impersonal and indifferent questions also that the boy
sets his face like a rock。 He has no ambition to give information
on any point。 Older people may not dislike the opportunity； and
there are even those who bring to pass questions of a trivial kind
for the pleasure of answering them with animation。 This； the boy
perhaps thinks； is 〃fuss；〃 and； if he has any passions； he has a
passionate dislike of fuss。
When a younger child tears the boy's scrapbook （which is
conjectured； though not known； to be the dearest thing he has） he
betrays no emotion； that was to be expected。 But when the stolen
pages are rescued and put by for him； he abstains from taking an
interest in the retrieval； he will do nothing to restore them。 To
do so would mar the integrity of his reserve。 If he would do much
rather than answer questions； he would suffer something rather than
ask them。
He loves his father and a friend of his father's； and he pushes
them； in order to show it without compromising his temperament。
He is a partisan in silence。 It may be guessed that he is often
occupied in comparing other people with his admired men。 Of this
too he says little； except some brief word of allusion to what other
men do NOT do。
When he speaks it is with a carefully shortened vocabulary。 As an
author shuns monotony； so does the boy shun change。 He does not
generally talk slang； his habitual words are the most usual of daily
words made useful and appropriate by certain varieties of voice。
These express for him all that he will consent to communicate。 He
reserves more by speaking dull words with zeal than by using zealous
words that might betray him。 But his brevity is the chief thing； he
has almost made an art of it。
He is not 〃merry。〃 Merry boys have pretty manners； and it must be
owned that this boy's manners are not pretty。 But if not merry； he
is happy； there never was a more untroubled soul。 If he has an
almost grotesque reticence； he has no secrets。 Nothing that he
thinks is very much hidden。 Even if he did not push his father； it
would be evident that the boy loves him； even if he never laid his
hand （and this little thing he does rarely） on his friend's
shoulder； it would be plain that he loves his friend。 His happiness
appears in his moody and charming face； his ambition in his
dumbness； and the hopes of his life to come in ungainly bearing。
How does so much heart； how does so much sweetness； all unexpressed；
appear？ For it is not only those who know him well that know the
child's heart； strangers are aware of it。 This； which he would not
reveal； is the only thing that is quite unmistakable and quite
conspicuous。
What he thinks that he turns visibly to the world is a sense of
humour； with a measure of criticism and of indifference。 What he
thinks the world may divine in him is courage and an intelligence。
But carry himself how he will； he is manifestly a tender； gentle；
and even spiritual creature； masculine and innocent〃a nice boy。〃
There is no other way of describing him than that of his own brief
language。
ILLNESS
The patience of young children in illness is a commonplace of some
little books； but none the less a fresh fact。 In spite of the
sentimental； children in illness remain the full sources of
perpetual surprises。 Their self…control in real suffering is a
wonder。 A little turbulent girl； brilliant and wild； and
unaccustomed； it might be thought； to deal in any way with her own
impulsesa child whose way was to cry out； laugh； complain； and
triumph without bating anything of her own temperament； and without
the hesitation of a moment； struck her face； on a run； against a
wall and was cut and in a moment overwhelmed with pain and covered
with blood。 〃Tell mother it's nothing！ Tell mother； quick； it's
nothing！〃 cried the magnanimous child as soon as she could speak。
The same child fell over the rail of a staircase and was obliged to
lie for some ten days on her back； so that the strained but not
broken little body might recover itself。 Every movement was； in a
measure； painful； and there was a long captivity； a helplessness
enforced and guarded by twinges； a constant impossibility to yield
to the one thing that had carried her through all her years
impulse。 A condition of acute consciousness was imposed upon a
creature whose first condition of life had been unconsciousness； and
this during the long period of ten of a child's days and nights at
eight years old。
Yet during every hour of the time the child was not only gay but
patient； not fitfully； but steadily； resigned； sparing of requests；
reluctant to be served； inventive of tender and pious little words
that she had never used before。 〃You are exquisite to me； mother；〃
she said； at receiving some common service。
Even in the altering and harassing conditions of fever； a generous
child assumes the almost incredible attitude of deliberate patience。
Not that illness is to be trusted to work so。 There is another
child who in his brief i
