dream days-第26章

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that　succeeds。　　Where　the　〃res〃　is　〃angusta；〃　and　the　weekly

books　are　simply　a　series　of　stiff　hurdles　at　each　of　which　in

succession　the　paternal　legs　falter　with　growing　suspicion

of　their　powers　to　clear　the　flight；　it　is　in　the　affair　of

CLOTHES　that　the　right　of　succession　tells；　and　〃the　hard　heir

strides　about　the　land〃　in　trousers　long　ago　framed　for　fraternal

limbsfrondes　novas　et　non　sua　poma。　　A　bitter　thing　indeed！　

Of　those　pretty　silken　threads　that　knit　humanity　together；　high

and　low；　past　and　present；　none　is　tougher；　more　pervading；　or

more　iridescent；　than　the　honest；　simple　pleasure　of　new　clothes。



It　tugs　at　the　man　as　it　tugs　at　the　woman；　the　smirk　of　the

well…fitted　prince　is　no　different　from　the　smirk　of　the　Sunday…

clad　peasant；　and　the　veins　of　the　elders　tingle　with　the　same

thrill　that　sets　their　fresh…frocked　grandchildren　skipping。　

Never　trust　people　who　pretend　that　they　have　no　joy　in　their　new

clothes。



Let　not　our　souls　be　wrung；　however；　at　contemplation　of　the

luckless　urchin　cut　off　by　parental　penury　from　the　rapture

of　new　clothes。　　Just　as　the　heroes　of　his　dreams　are　his

immediate　seniors；　so　his　heroes'　clothes　share　the　glamour；　and

the　reversion　of　them　carries　a　high　privilegea　special　thing

not　sold　by　Swears　and　Wells。　　The　sword　of　Galahadand　of　many

another　heroarrived　on　the　scene　already　hoary　with　history；

and　the　boy　rather　prefers　his　trousers　to　be　legendary；　famous；

haloed　by　his　hero's　renowneven　though　the　nap　may　have

altogether　vanished　in　the　process。



But；　putting　clothes　aside；　there　are　other　matters　in　which　this

reversed　heirship　comes　into　play。　　Take　the　case　of　Toys。　　It　is

hardly　right　or　fittingand　in　this　the　child　quite　acquiesces

that　as　he　approaches　the　reverend　period　of　nine　or　say　ten

years；　he　should　still　be　the　unabashed　and　proclaimed　possessor

of　a　hoop　and　a　Noah's　Ark。　　The　child　will　quite　see　the

reasonableness　of　this；　and；　the　goal　of　his　ambition　being　now　a

catapult；　a　pistol；　or　even　a　sword…stick；　will　be　satisfied　that

the　titular　ownership　should　lapse　to　his　juniors；　so　far　below

him　in　their　kilted　or　petticoated　incompetence。　　After　all；　the

things　are　still　there；　and　if　relapses　of　spirit　occur；　on　wet

afternoons；　one　can　still　（nominally）　borrow　them　and　be　happy　on

the　floor　as　of　old；　without　the　reproach　of　being　a　habitual

baby　toy…caresser。　　Also　one　can　pretend　it's　being　done　to　amuse

the　younger　ones。



None　of　us；　therefore；　grumbled　when　in　the　natural　course　of

things　the　nominal　ownership　of　the　toys　slipped　down　to　Harold；

and　from　him　in　turn　devolved　upon　Charlotte。　　The　toys　were

still　there；　they　always　had　been　there　and　always　would　be

there；　and　when　the　nursery　door　was　fast　shut　there　were　no

Kings　or　Queens　or　First　Estates　in　that　small　Republic　on

the　floor。　　Charlotte；　to　be　sure；　chin…tilted；　at　last　an　owner

of　real　estate；　might　patronize　a　little　at　times；　but　it　was

tacitly　understood　that　her　〃title　〃　was　only　a　drawing…room　one。



Why　does　a　coming　bereavement　project　no　thin　faint　voice；　no

shadow　of　its　woe；　to　warn　its　happy；　heedless　victims？　　Why

cannot　Olympians　ever　think　it　worth　while　to　give　some　hint　of

the　thunderbolts　they　are　silently　forging？　　And　why；　oh；　why　did

it　never　enter　any　of　our　thick　heads　that　the　day　would　come

when　even　Charlotte　would　be　considered　too　matronly　for　toys？　

One's　so…called　education　is　hammered　into　one　with　rulers　and

with　canes。　　Each　fresh　grammar　or　musical　instrument；　each　new

historical　period　or　quaint　arithmetical　rule；　is　impressed　on

one　by　some　painful　physical　prelude。　　Why　does　Time；　the　biggest

Schoolmaster；　alone　neglect　premonitory　raps；　at　each　stage

of　his　curriculum；　on　our　knuckles　or　our　heads？



Uncle　Thomas　was　at　the　bottom　of　it。　　This　was　not　the　first

mine　he　had　exploded　under　our　bows。　　In　his　favourite　pursuit　of

fads　he　had　passed　in　turn　from　Psychical　Research　to　the　White

Rose　and　thence　to　a　Children's　Hospital；　and　we　were　being　daily

inundated　with　leaflets　headed　by　a　woodcut　depicting　Little

Annie　（of　Poplar）　sitting　up　in　her　little　white　cot；　surrounded

by　the　toys　of　the　nice；　kind；　rich　children。　　The　idea　caught　on

with　the　Olympians；　always　open　to　sentiment　of　a　treacly；

woodcut　order；　and　accordingly　Charlotte；　on　entering　one　day

dishevelled　and　panting；　having　been　pursued　by　yelling　Redskins

up　to　the　very　threshold　of　our　peaceful　home；　was　curtly

informed　that　her　French　lessons　would　begin　on　Monday；　that　she

was　henceforth　to　cease　all　pretence　of　being　a　trapper　or　a

Redskin　on　utterly　inadequate　grounds；　and　moreover　that　the

whole　of　her　toys　were　at　that　moment　being　finally　packed　up　in

a　box；　for　despatch　to　London；　to　gladden　the　lives　and　bring

light　into　the　eyes　of　London　waifs　and　Poplar　Annies。



Naturally　enough；　perhaps；　we　others　received　no　official

intimation　of　this　grave　cession　of　territory。　　We　were　not

supposed　to　be　interested。　　Harold　had　long　ago　been　promoted　to

a　knifea　recognized；　birthday　knife。　　As　for　me；　it　was　known

that　I　was　already　given　over；　heart　and　soul；　to　lawless

abandoned　catapultscatapults　which　were　confiscated　weekly　for

reasons　of　international　complications；　but　with　which　Edward

kept　me　steadily　supplied；　his　school　having　a　fine　old　tradition

for　excellence　in　their　manufacture。　　Therefore　no　one　was

supposed　to　be　really　affected　but　Charlotte；　and　even　she

had　already　reached　Miss　Yonge；　and　should　therefore　have　been

more　interested　in　prolific　curates　and　harrowing　deathbeds。



Nothwithstanding；　we　all　felt　indignant；　betrayed；　and　sullen　to

the　verge　of　mutiny。　　Though　for　long　we　had　affected　to　despise

them；　these　toys；　yet　they　had　grown　up　with　us；　shared　our　joys

and　our　sorrows；　seen　us　at　our　worst；　and　become　part　of　the

accepted　scheme　of　existence。　　As　we　gazed　at　untenanted　shelves

and　empty；　hatefully　tidy　corners；　perhaps　for　the　first　time　for

long　we　began　to　do　them　a　tardy　justice。



There　was　old　Leotard；　for　instance。　　Somehow　he　had　come　to　be

sadly　neglected　of　late　yearsand　yet　how　exactly　he　always

responded　to　certain　moods！　　He　was　an　acrobat；　this　Leotard；　who

lived　in　a　glass…fronted　box。　　His　loosejointed　limbs　were

cardboard；　cardboard　his　slender　trunk；　and　his　hands　eternally

grasped　the　bar　of　a　trapeze。　　You　turned　the　box　round　swiftly

five　or　six　times；　the　wonderful　unsolved　machinery　worked；　and

Leotard　swung　and　leapt；　backwards；　forwards；　now　astride　the

bar；　now　flying　free；　iron…jointed；　supple…sinewed；　unceasingly

novel　in　his　invention　of　new；　unguessable　attitudes；　while

above；　below；　and　around　him；　a　richly…dressed　audience；　painted

in　skilful　perspective　of　stalls；　boxes；　dress…circle；　and

gallery；　watched　the　thrilling　performance　with　a　stolidity　which

seemed　to　mark　them　out　as　made　in　Germany。　　Hardly　versatile

enough；　perhaps；　this　Leotard；　unsympathetic；　not　a　companion　for

all　hours；　nor　would　you　have　chosen　him　to　take　to　bed　with　you。



And　yet；　within　his　own　limits；　how　fresh；　how　engrossing；　how

resourceful　and　inventive！　　Well；　he　was　gone；　it　seemed

merely　gone。　　Never　specially　cherished　while　he　tarried

with　us；　he　had　yet　contrived　to　build　himself　a　particular　niche

of　his　own。　　Sunrise　and　sunset；　and　the　dinner…bell；　and　the

sudden　rainbow；　and　lessons；　and　Leotard；　and　the　moon　through

the　nursery　windowsthey　were　all　part　of　the　great　order　of

things；　and　the　displacement　of　any　one　item　seemed　to

disorganize　the　whole　machinery。　　The　immediate　point　was；　not

that　the　world　would　continue　to　go　round　as　of　old；　but　that

Leotard　wouldn't。



Yonder　corner；　now　swept　and　garnished；　had　been　the　stall

wherein　the　spotty　horse；　at　the　close　of　each　laborious　day；　was

accustomed　to　doze　peacefully　the　long　night　through。　　In　days　of

old　each　of　us　in　turn　had　been　jerked　thrilli