the days of my life-第5章

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at　he　was　so　fond　of　making　ceased　and　he　became　very　quiet。
Nobody　could　be　more　absolutely　delightful　than　my　father　when　he　chose；　and；　per　contra；　I　am　bound　to　add　that　nobody　could　be　more　disagreeable。　His　rows　with　his　children　were　many；　and　often　on　his　part　unjust。　One　of　the　causes　of　these　outbreaks　was　that　he　seemed　unable　to　realise　that　children　do　not　always　remain　children。
Once　when　I　was　a　young　man　in　Africa　—　it　was　just　before　I　was　appointed　Master　of　the　High　Court　in　the　Transvaal　—　I　was　very　anxious　to　e　home　after　several　years’　absence　from　England；　on　“urgent　private　affairs。”　To　be　frank；　I　desired　to　bring　a　certain　love　affair　to　a　head　by　a　formal　engagement；　which　there　was　no　doubt　I　could　have　done　at　that　time。
For　certain　reasons；　however；　it　was　impossible　for　me　to　get　leave　at　the　moment。　Yet　the　matter　was　one　that　would　admit　of　no　delay。　In　this　emergency　I　went　to　my　chief；　Sir　Theophilus　Shepstone；　told　him　how　things　stood　and　obtained　a　promise　from　him　that　if　I　resigned　my　appointment　in　order　to　visit　England；　as　it　was　necessary　I　should　do；　he　would　make　arrangements　to　ensure　my　reappointment　either　to　that　or　to　some　other　billet　on　my　return。
I　suppose　that　I　did　not　make　all　this　quite　clear　in　my　letters　home；　and　almost　certainly　I　did　not　explain　why　it　was　necessary　for　me　to　e　home。　The　result　was　that　the　day　before　I　started；　after　I　had　sent　my　luggage　forward　to　Cape　Town；　I　received　a　most　painful　letter　from　my　father。　Evidently　he　thought　or　feared　that　I　was　abandoning　a　good　career　in　Africa　and　about　to　e　back　upon　his　hands。　Although　it　was　far　from　the　fact；　this　view　may　or　may　not　have　been　justified。　What　I　hold　even　now　was　not　justified　was　the　harsh　way　in　which　it　was　expressed。　The　words　I　have　forgotten；　for　I　destroyed　the　letter　many　years　ago；　immediately　upon　its　receipt；　I　think；　but　the　sting　of　them　after　so　long　an　absence　I　remember　well　enough；　though　some　four…and…thirty　years　have　passed　since　they　were　written；　a　generation　ago。
They　hurt　me　so　much　that　immediately　after　reading　them　I　withdrew　my　formal　resignation　and　cancelled　the　passage　I　had　taken　in　the　post…cart　to　Kimberley　en　route　for　the　Cape　and　England。　As　a　result　the　course　of　two　lives　was　changed。　The　lady　married　someone　else；　with　results　that　were　far　from　fortunate；　and　the　effect　upon　myself　was　not　good。　I　know　now　that　all　was　for　the　best　so　far　as　I　am　concerned；　and　in　these　events　I　see　the　workings　of　the　hand　of　Destiny。　Many；　I　am　aware；　will　think　this　a　hard　saying；　but　from　Job　down　man　has　found　it　difficult　to　escape　a　certain　faith　in　fatalism　which　even　St。　Paul　seems　to　have　accepted。
There’s　a　divinity　that　shapes　our　ends；
Rough…hew　them　how　we　will；
writes　the　inspired　Shakespeare；　and　who　shall　deny　that　he　writes　truth？　The　alternative　would　seem　to　be　the　acceptance　of　a　doctrine　of　blind　chance　which　I　confess　I　find　hideous。　Moreover；　if　it　is　to　prevail；　how　fearful　are　our　human　responsibilities。　Because　my　dear　father；　who　had　the　interests　of　all　his　children　so　closely　at　heart；　wrote　a　sharp　and　testy　letter；　probably　under　the　influence　of　some　other　irritation　of　which　I　know　nothing；　is　he　to　be　saddled　with　the　weight　of　all　the　consequences　of　that　letter？　Or　am　I　to　be　saddled　with　those　consequences　because　I　was　a　high…spirited　and　sensitive　young　man　who　took　the　letter　too　seriously？　If　we　knew　the　answers　to　these　questions　we　should　have　solved　the　meaning　of　the　secret　of　our　lives。　But　they　are　hidden　by　the　blackness　that　walls　us　in；　that　blackness　in　which　the　sphinx　will　speak　at　last　—　or　stay　for　ever　silent。
Meanwhile　the　moral　is　that　people　should　be　careful　of　what　they　put　on　paper。　When　we　throw　a　stone　into　the　sea；　who　knows　where　the　ripple　ends？
To　return　—　these　rows　at　Bradenham；　niy…nine　out　of　a　hundred　of　which　meant　nothing　at　all；　had　a　very　ical　side　to　them。　Perhaps　they　sprang　up　at　table　on　the　occasion　of　an　argument　between　my　father　and　one　of　his　sons。　Then　he　would　rise　majestically；　announce　in　solemn　tones　that　he　refused　to　be　insulted　in　his　own　house；　and　depart；　banging　the　door　loudly　behind　him。　Across　the　hall　he　went　into　the　drawing…room　and　banged　that　door；　out　of　the　drawing…room　into　the　vestibule　（here　there　are　two　doors；　so　the　bang　was　double…barrelled）；　through　the　vestibule　into　the　garden；　if　the　row　was　of　the　first　magnitude。　If　not　he　banged　his　way　back　into　the　dining…room　by　the　serving　entrance；　and　very　probably　sat　doper；　the　exercise　having　relieved　his　feelings。　Especially　was　this　so　if　the　offending　son　had　banged　himself　out　of　the　house　by　some　other　route。
Only　the　other　day　I　examined　those　Bradenham　doors　and　their　hinges。　The　workmanship　of　them　is　really　wonderful。　After　half　a　century　of　banging　added　to　their　ordinary　wear；　they　are　as　good　as　when　they　were　made。　We　do　not　see　such　joinery　nowadays。
Considered　as　a　whole　it　would　have　been　difficult　to　find　a　more　jovial　party　than　we　were　at　Bradenham　in　the　days　of　my　youth；　especially　when　my　father　was　in　a　good　mood。　The　noise　of　course　was　tremendous；　because　everybody　had　plenty　to　say　and　was　fully　determined　that　it　should　not　be　hidden　from　the　world。　In　the　midst　of　all　this　hubbub　sat　my　dearest　mother　—　like　an　angel　that　had　lost　her　way　and　found　herself　in　pandemonium。　Not　being　blest　with　the　Haggard　voice；　though　she　had　a　very　sweet　one　of　her　own；　often　and　often　she　was　reduced　to　the　necessity　of　signifying　her　wishes　by　signs。　Indeed　it　became　a　habit　of　hers；　if　she　needed　the　salt　or　anything　else；　to　point　to　it；　and　beckon　it　towards　her。　One　of　her　daughters…inlaw　once　asked　my　mother　how　on　earth　she　made　herself　heard　in　the　midst　of　so　much　noise　at　table。
“My　dear；”　she　answered；　“I　whisper！　When　I　whisper　they　all　stop　talking；　because　they　wonder　what　is　the　matter。　Then　I　get　my　chance。”
Here　I　will　try　to　give　some　description　of　this　mother　with　whom　we　were　blest。　Twenty…two　years　have　passed　since　she　left　us；　but　I　can　say　honestly　that　every　one　of　those　years　has　brought　me　to　a　deeper　appreciation　of　her　beautiful　character。　Indeed　she　seems　to　be　much　nearer　to　me　now　that　she　is　dead　than　she　was　while　she　still　lived。　It　is　as　though　our　intimacy　and　mutual　understanding　has　grown　in　a　way　as　real　as　it　is　mysterious。　Someone　says　that　the　dead　are　never　dead　to　us　until　they　are　forgotten；　and　if　that　be　so；　in　my　case　my　mother　lives　indeed。　No　night　goes　by　that　I　do　not　think　of　her　and　pray　that　we　may　meet　again　to　part　no　more。　If　our　present　positions　were　reversed；　this　would　please　me；　could　I　know　of　it；　and　so　I　trust　that　this　offering　of　a　son’s　unalterable　gratitude　and　affection　may　please　her；　for　after　all　such　things　are　the　most　fragrant　flowers　that　we　can　lay　upon　the　graves　of　our　beloved。　The　Protestant　Faith　seems　vaguely　to　inculcate　that　we　should　not　pray　for　the　dead。　If　so；　I　differ　from　the　Protestant　Faith；　who　hold　that　we　should　not　only　pray　for　them　but　to　them；　that　they　will　judge　our　frailties　with　tenderness　and　will　not　forget　us　who　do　not　forget　them。　Even　if　the　message　is　delivered　only　after　ten　thousand　years；　it　will　still　be　a　message　that　most　of　us　would　be　glad　to　hear；　and　if　it　is　never　delivered　at　all；　still　it　will　have　been　sent；　and　what　can　man　do　more？
I　know　that　my　mother　believed　that　such　efforts　are　not　in　vain；　for　she　was　filled　with　a　very　earnest　faith。　After　her　death；　in　the　drawer　of　her　writing…table　were　found　four　lines；　feebly　inscribed　in　pencil；　which　are　believed　to　be　the　last　words　she　wrote。　They　are　before　me　now　and　I　transcribe　them：
Lo！　in　the　shadowy　valley　here　He　stands：
？My　soul　pale　sliding　down　Earth’s　icy　slope
Descends　to　meet　Him；　with　beseeching　hands
？Trembling　with　Fear　—　and　yet　upraised　in　Hope。
My　mother　was　married　when　she　was　twenty…five　years　of　age；　and　children　came　in　what　ladies　nowadays　would　consider　superabundance。　The　eldest；　my　sister　Ella；　was　born　in　Rome　in　March　1845；　while　they　were　still　upon　a　marriage　tour；　and　subsequently；　in　quick　succession；　the　others　followed。　The　last　of　us；　my　brother　Arthur；　appeared　in　November　1860　—　well　do　I　remember　my　father　in　a　flowered　dressing…gown　telling　us　to　be　quiet　because　we　had　a　little　brother。　This　allows　nearly　sixteen　years　between　the　eldest　and　the　youngest；　including　one　who　came　into　the　world　still…born。　Although　she　had　ten　children　living；　my　mother　never　ceased　to　regret　this　boy；　and　I　remember　her　crying；　when　she　pointed　out　to　me　where　he　was　buried　in　Bradenham　churchyard。
My　mother　never　was　a　beauty　in　the　ordinary　sense　of　the　word；　but　in　youth；　to　judge　by　the　pictures　which　I　have　seen　of　her　（photographs　were　not　then　known）；　she　must　have　been　very　refined　and　charming　in　appearance；　and　indeed　remained　so　all　her　life。　Her　abilities　were　great；　taking　her　all　in　all　she　was　perhaps　the　ablest　woman　whom　I　have　known；　though　she　had　no　iron　background　to　her　character；　for　that　she　was　too　gentle。　Her　bent　no　doubt　was　literary；　and　had　circumstances　permitted　I　am　sure　she　would　have　made　a　name　in　that　branch　of　art　to　which　in　the　intervals　of　her　crowded　life　she　gravitated　by　nature。　Also　she　was　a　good　musician；　and　drew　well。　Of　her　mental　abilities　I　have　however　spoken　in　a　brief　memoir　which　I　published　as　a　preface　to　a　new　edition　of　my　mother’s　poem；　“Life　and　its　Author。”
I　think　that　the　greatest　of　her　gifts；　however；　was　that　of　conversation。　No　more　charming　panion　could　be　imagined。　Also　she　had　the　art　of　drawing　the　best　out　of　anyone　with　whom　she　might　be　talking；　as　the　sympathetic　sometimes　can　do。　In　a　minute　or　two　she　would　find　which　was　his　or　her　strongest　point　and　to　this　turn　the　conversation。　Notwithstanding　the　tumultuous　nature　of　her　life；　her　illnesses　and　other　distractions；　she　contrived　to　read　a　great　deal；　and　to　keep　herself　au　courant　with　all　thought　movements　and　the　political　affairs　of　the　day。　Further　she　did　her　very　best　to　teach　her　numerous　children　the　truths　of　religion；　and　to　lead　them　into　the　ways　of　righteousness　and　peace。　I　fear；　however；　that　at　times　we　got　beyond　her。　It　is　not　easy　for　any　woman　to　follow　and　direct　all　the　physical　and　mental　developments　of　a　huge　and　vigorous　family　who　are　continually　ing　and　going；　first　from　schools　and　elsewhere；　and　later　from　every　quarter　of　the　world。
She　never　plained；　but　I　cannot　think　that　the　life　she　was　called　upon　to　lead　was　very　congenial　to　her。　When　young　in　India；　where　at　that　time　English　ladies　were　rare；　as　was　natural　in　the　case　of　one　of　her　charm　who　was　known　also　to　be　a　considerable　heiress；　she　was　much　sought　after　and　feted。　Then　she　returned　to　England　and　married；　and　for　her　the　responsibilities　of　life　began　with　a　vengeance；　to　cease　no　more　until　she　died。　These　indeed　were　plicated　by　the　fact　that　a　time　came　when　she　had　to　think　a　good　deal　about　ways　and　means；　especially　after　my　father；　who　had　the　passion　of　his　generation　for　land；　insisted　upon　investing　most　of　her　fortune　in　that　security　just　at　the　mencement　of　its　great　fall　in　value。　Her　various　duties；　including　that　of　housekeeping；　of　which　she　was　a　perfect　mistress；　left　her　scarcely　an　hour　to　follow　her　own　literary　and　artistic　tastes。　All　she　could　do　was　to　give　a　little　attention　to　gardening；　to　which　she　was　devoted。
On　the　whole　life　at　Bradenham　must　have　been　very　dull　for　her；　especially　after　the　London　house　was　sold　and　she　was　settled　there　more　or　less　permanently。　She　used　to　describe　to　me　the　wearisome　and　interminable　local　dinner…parties　to　which　she　was　obliged　to　go　in　her　early　married　life。　The　men　she　met　at　them　talked；　she　said；　chiefly　about　“roots；”　and　for　a　long　while　she　could　not　imagine　what　these　roots　might　be　and　why　they　were　so　interested　in　them；　until　at　length　she　discovered　that　they　referred　to　mangold…wurzel　and　to　turnips；　both　as　crops　and　as　a　shelter　for　the　birds　which　they　loved　to　shoot。　One　good　fortune　she　had；　however：　all　her　children　survived　her；　all　were　deeply　attached　to　her；　and；　what　is　strange　in　so　large　a　family；　none　of　them　went　to　the　bad。
Such　was　the　circle　in　which　I　grew　up。　I　think　that　on　the　whole　I　was　rather　a　quiet　youth；　at　any　rate　by　parison。　Certainly　I　was　very　imaginative；　although　I　kept　my　thoughts　to　myself；　which　I　dare　say　had　a　good　deal　to　do　with　my　reputation　for　stupidity。　I　believe　I　was　considered　the　dull　boy　of　the　family。　Without　doubt　I　was　slow　at　my　lessons；　chiefly　because　I　was　always　thinking　of　something　else。　Also　to　this　day　there　are　subjects　at　which　I　am　extremely　stupid。　Thus；　although　I　rarely　forget　the　substance　of　anything　worth　remembering；　never　could　or　can　I　learn　anything　by　heart；　and　for　this　reason　I　have　been　obliged　to　abandon　the　active　pursuit　of　Masonry。　Moreover　all　mathematics　are　absolutely　abhorrent　to　me；　while　as　for　Euclid　it　bored　me　so　intensely　that　I　do　not　think　I　ever　mastered　the　meaning　of　the　stuff。
I　think　it　is　fortunate　for　me　that　I　have　never　been　called　upon　to　face　the　petitive　examinations　which　are　now　so　fashionable；　and；　I　will　add；　in　my　opinion　in　many　ways　so　m