第 4 节
作者:扑火      更新:2021-02-19 21:35      字数:9321
  danger; 〃Would it were done。〃            But; meanwhile; the right thing is to put it
  to sleep   and   guard   its   slumbers。    It   will pass。   She   sings prophecies   to
  the child of his hunting; as she sings a song about the robe while she spins;
  and a song about bread as she grinds corn。              She bids good speed。
  John   Evelyn   was   equally  eager;   and   not   so   submissive。      His   child
  〃that pretty  person〃   in Jeremy Taylor's   letter of   condolencewas   chiefly
  precious to him inasmuch as he was; too soon; a likeness of the man he
  never lived to be。       The father; writing with tears when the boy was dead;
  says   of   him:   〃At   two   and   a   half   years   of   age   he   pronounced   English;
  Latin;    and    French     exactly;   and    could   perfectly    read    in  these    three
  languages。〃       As he lived precisely five years; all he did was done at that
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  little  age;   and   it  comprised     this:   〃He    got   by   heart  almost    the   entire
  vocabulary       of   Latin   and    French    primitives     and    words;    could    make
  congruous   syntax;   turn   English   into   Latin;   and   vice   versa;   construe   and
  prove what he   read; and did the government and use of relatives;  verbs;
  substantives;       ellipses;   and    many     figures     and    tropes;   and    made      a
  considerable progress in Comenius's 'Janua;' and had a strong passion for
  Greek。〃
  Grant that this may be a little abated; because a very serious man is not
  to be too much believed when he is describing what he admires; it is the
  very fact of his admiration that is so curious a sign of those hasty times。
  All being favorable; the child of Evelyn's studious home would have done
  all these things in the course of nature within a few years。                It was the fact
  that   he   did   them   out   of   the   course   of   nature   that   was;   to   Evelyn;   so
  exquisite。 The course of nature had not any beauty in his eyes。                     It might
  be   borne   with   for   the   sake   of   the   end;   but   it   was   not   admired   for   the
  majesty  of   its   unhasting   process。      Jeremy  Taylor   mourns   with   him   〃the
  strangely   hopeful   child;〃   whowithout   Comenius's   〃Janua〃   and   without
  congruous syntaxwas fulfilling; had they known it; an appropriate hope;
  answering   a   distinctive   prophecy;   and   crowning   and   closing   a   separate
  expectation every day of his five years。
  Ah! the word 〃hopeful〃 seems; to us; in this day; a word too flattering
  to   the   estate   of   man。   They   thought   their   little   boy   strangely   hopeful
  because he was so quick on his way to be something else。                     They lost the
  timely perfection the while they were so intent upon their hopes。                   And yet
  it is our own modern age that is charged with haste!
  It   would   seem  rather   as though   the   world;   whatever   it shall   unlearn;
  must     rightly   learn   to   confess    the   passing    and   irrevocable     hour;    not
  slighting   it;   or   bidding   it   hasten   its   work;   nor   yet   hailing   it;   with   Faust;
  〃Stay; thou art so fair!〃        Childhood is but change made gay and visible;
  and the world has lately been converted to change。
  Our fathers valued change for the sake of its results; we value it in the
  act。    To us the change is revealed as perpetual; every passage is a goal;
  and every goal a passage。           The hours are equal; but some of them wear
  apparent wings。
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  Tout passe。       Is the fruit for the flower; or the flower for the fruit; or
  the fruit for the seeds which it is formed to shelter and contain?                   It seems
  as though our forefathers had answered this question most arbitrarily as to
  the life of man。
  All   their  literature  dealing   with   children   is   bent upon   this   haste;   this
  suppression       of   the   approach     to  what     seemed     then   the   only    time   of
  fulfilment。      The way was without rest to them。                 And this because they
  had the illusion of a rest to be gained at some later point of this unpausing
  life。
  Evelyn and his contemporaries dropped the very word child as soon as
  might be; if not sooner。         When a poor little boy came to be eight years old
  they called him a youth。           The diarist himself had no cause to be proud of
  his    own    early   years;    for  he   was    so   far  indulged     in   idleness    by   an
  〃honoured grandmother〃 that he was 〃not initiated into any rudiments〃 till
  he was four years of age。           He seems even to have been a youth of eight
  before   Latin   was   seriously   begun;   but   this   fact   he   is   evidently;   in   after
  years;   with   a   total   lack   of   a   sense   of   humour;   rather   ashamed   of;   and
  hardly acknowledges。           It is difficult to imagine what childhood must have
  been   when   nobody;  looking on;  saw   any  fun in it;   when   everything   that
  was   proper      to  five  years   old   was    defect。    A   strange    good    conceit    of
  themselves and of their own ages had those fathers。
  They took their children seriously; without relief。               Evelyn has nothing
  to   say   about   his   little   ones   that   has   a   sign   of   a   smile   in   it。 Twice   are
  children;     not   his  own;    mentioned      in  his   diary。   Once      he  goes    to  the
  wedding of a maid of five years olda curious thing; but not; evidently; an
  occasion of sensibility。         Another time he stands by; in a French hospital;
  while a youth of less than nine years of age undergoes a frightful surgical
  operation   〃with   extraordinary   patience。〃          〃The   use   I   made   of   it   was   to
  give   Almighty   God        hearty   thanks     that  I   had  not   been   subject    to  this
  deplorable infirmitie。〃         This is what he says。
  See;   moreover;   how   the   fashion   of   hurrying   childhood   prevailed   in
  literature; and how it abolished little girls。             It may be that there were in
  all ageseven thosecertain few boys who insisted upon being children;
  whereas the girls were docile to the adult ideal。 Art; for example; had no
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  little   girls。  There      was   always     Cupid;    and   there   were    the   prosperous
  urchin…angels of the painters; the one who is hauling up his little brother
  by   the   hand   in   the   〃Last   Communion   of   St。   Jerome〃   might   be   called
  Tommy。        But    there   were    no   〃little  radiant   girls。〃   Now      and    then   an
  〃Education of the Virgin〃 is the exception; and then it is always a matter of
  sewing and reading。          As for the little girl saints; even when they were so
  young   that   their   hands;   like   those   of   St。   Agnes;   slipped   through   their
  fetters;   they   are   always   recorded   as   refusing   importunate   suitors;   which
  seems necessary to make them interesting to the mediaeval mind; but mars
  them for ours。
  So   does   the   hurrying   and   ignoring   of   little…girl…childhood   somewhat
  hamper   the   delight   with   which   readers   of   John   Evelyn   admire   his   most
  admirable Mrs。 Godolphin。             She was Maid of Honour to the Queen in the
  Court   of   Charles   II。     She   was;   as   he   prettily   says;   an   Arethusa   〃who
  passed   through   all   those   turbulent   waters   without   so   much   as   the   least
  stain or tincture in her christall。〃          She held her state with men and maids
  for her servants; guided herself by most exact rules; such as that of never
  speaking   to   the   King;   gave   an   excellent   example   and   instruction   to   the
  other maids of honour; was 〃severely careful how she might give the least
  countenance to that liberty which the gallants there did usually assume;〃
  refused the addresses of the 〃greatest persons;〃 and was as famous for her
  beauty as for her wit。         One would like to forget the age at which she did
  these things。       When she began her   service she was eleven。                   When she
  was making her rule never to speak to the King she was not thirteen。
  Marriage   was   the   business   of   daughters   of   fourteen   and   fifteen;   and
  heroines; therefore; were of those ages。              The poets turned April into May;
  and seemed to think that they lent