Kabanata Kabanata 20 · 第20章

. The birth of his son opened Theobald’s eyes to a good deal which he had

but faintly realised hitherto. He had had no idea how great a nuisance

a baby was. Babies come into the world so suddenly at the end, and

upset everything so terribly when they do come: why cannot they steal

in upon us with less of a shock to the domestic system? His wife, too,

did not recover rapidly from her confinement; she remained an invalid

for months; here was another nuisance and an expensive one, which

interfered with the amount which Theobald liked to put by out of his

income against, as he said, a rainy day, or to make provision for his

family if he should have one. Now he was getting a family, so that it

became all the more necessary to put money by, and here was the baby

hindering him. Theorists may say what they like about a man’s children

being a continuation of his own identity, but it will generally be

found that those who talk in this way have no children of their own.

Practical family men know better.

About twelve months after the birth of Ernest there came a second, also

a boy, who was christened Joseph, and in less than twelve months

afterwards, a girl, to whom was given the name of Charlotte. A few

months before this girl was born Christina paid a visit to the John

Pontifexes in London, and, knowing her condition, passed a good deal of

time at the Royal Academy exhibition looking at the types of female

beauty portrayed by the Academicians, for she had made up her mind that

the child this time was to be a girl. Alethea warned her not to do

this, but she persisted, and certainly the child turned out plain, but

whether the pictures caused this or no I cannot say.

Theobald had never liked children. He had always got away from them as

soon as he could, and so had they from him; oh, why, he was inclined to

ask himself, could not children be born into the world grown up? If

Christina could have given birth to a few full-grown clergymen in

priest’s orders—of moderate views, but inclining rather to

Evangelicalism, with comfortable livings and in all respects facsimiles

of Theobald himself—why, there might have been more sense in it; or if

people could buy ready-made children at a shop of whatever age and sex

they liked, instead of always having to make them at home and to begin

at the beginning with them—that might do better, but as it was he did

not like it. He felt as he had felt when he had been required to come

and be married to Christina—that he had been going on for a long time

quite nicely, and would much rather continue things on their present

footing. In the matter of getting married he had been obliged to

pretend he liked it; but times were changed, and if he did not like a

thing now, he could find a hundred unexceptionable ways of making his

dislike apparent.

It might have been better if Theobald in his younger days had kicked

more against his father: the fact that he had not done so encouraged

him to expect the most implicit obedience from his own children. He

could trust himself, he said (and so did Christina), to be more lenient

than perhaps his father had been to himself; his danger, he said (and

so again did Christina), would be rather in the direction of being too

indulgent; he must be on his guard against this, for no duty could be

more important than that of teaching a child to obey its parents in all

things.

He had read not long since of an Eastern traveller, who, while

exploring somewhere in the more remote parts of Arabia and Asia Minor,

had come upon a remarkably hardy, sober, industrious little Christian

community—all of them in the best of health—who had turned out to be

the actual living descendants of Jonadab, the son of Rechab; and two

men in European costume, indeed, but speaking English with a broken

accent, and by their colour evidently Oriental, had come begging to

Battersby soon afterwards, and represented themselves as belonging to

this people; they had said they were collecting funds to promote the

conversion of their fellow tribesmen to the English branch of the

Christian religion. True, they turned out to be impostors, for when he

gave them a pound and Christina five shillings from her private purse,

they went and got drunk with it in the next village but one to

Battersby; still, this did not invalidate the story of the Eastern

traveller. Then there were the Romans—whose greatness was probably due

to the wholesome authority exercised by the head of a family over all

its members. Some Romans had even killed their children; this was going

too far, but then the Romans were not Christians, and knew no better.

The practical outcome of the foregoing was a conviction in Theobald’s

mind, and if in his, then in Christina’s, that it was their duty to

begin training up their children in the way they should go, even from

their earliest infancy. The first signs of self-will must be carefully

looked for, and plucked up by the roots at once before they had time to

grow. Theobald picked up this numb serpent of a metaphor and cherished

it in his bosom.

Before Ernest could well crawl he was taught to kneel; before he could

well speak he was taught to lisp the Lord’s prayer, and the general

confession. How was it possible that these things could be taught too

early? If his attention flagged or his memory failed him, here was an

ill weed which would grow apace, unless it were plucked out

immediately, and the only way to pluck it out was to whip him, or shut

him up in a cupboard, or dock him of some of the small pleasures of

childhood. Before he was three years old he could read and, after a

fashion, write. Before he was four he was learning Latin, and could do

rule of three sums.

As for the child himself, he was naturally of an even temper, he doted

upon his nurse, on kittens and puppies, and on all things that would do

him the kindness of allowing him to be fond of them. He was fond of his

mother, too, but as regards his father, he has told me in later life he

could remember no feeling but fear and shrinking. Christina did not

remonstrate with Theobald concerning the severity of the tasks imposed

upon their boy, nor yet as to the continual whippings that were found

necessary at lesson times. Indeed, when during any absence of

Theobald’s the lessons were entrusted to her, she found to her sorrow

that it was the only thing to do, and she did it no less effectually

than Theobald himself, nevertheless she was fond of her boy, which

Theobald never was, and it was long before she could destroy all

affection for herself in the mind of her first-born. But she

persevered.