第 11 节
作者:
扑火 更新:2021-02-19 21:35 字数:9321
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
indispositions becomes invincible; armed against medicine finally。 The
last appeal to force; as his distracted elders find; is all but an impossibility;
but in any case it would be a failure。 You can bring the spoon to the child;
but three nurses cannot make him drink。 This; then; is the occasion of
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the ultimate resistance。 He raises the standard of revolution; and casts
every tradition and every precept to the wind on which it flies。 He has
his elders at a disadvantage; for if they pursue him with a grotesque spoon
their maxims and commands are; at the moment; still more grotesque。
He is committed to the wild novelty of absolute refusal。 He not only
refuses; moreover; he disbelieves; he throws everything over。 Told that
the medicine is not so bad; this nihilist laughs。
Medicine apart; a minor ailment is an interest and a joy。 〃Am I
unwell to…day; mother?〃 asks a child with all his faith and confidence at
the highest point。
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THE YOUNG CHILD
The infant of literature 〃wails〃 and wails feebly; with the invariability
of a thing unproved and taken for granted。 Nothing; nevertheless; could
be more unlike a wail than the most distinctive cry whereon the child of
man catches his first breath。 It is a hasty; huddled outcry; sharp and brief;
rather deep than shrill in tone。 With all deference to old moralities; man
does not weep at beginning this world; he simply lifts up his new voice
much as do the birds in the Zoological Gardens; and with much the same
tone as some of the duck kind there。 He does not weep for some months
to come。 His outcry soon becomes the human cry that is better known
than loved; but tears belong to later infancy。 And if the infant of days
neither wails nor weeps; the infant of months is still too young to be gay。
A child's mirth; when at last it begins; is his first secret; you understand
little of it。 The first smile (for the convulsive movement in sleep that is
popularly adorned by that name is not a smile) is an uncertain sketch of a
smile; unpractised but unmistakable。 It is accompanied by a single
sounda sound that would be a monosyllable if it were articulatewhich
is the utterance; though hardly the communication; of a private jollity。
That and that alone is the real beginning of human laughter。
From the end of the first fortnight in life; when it appears for the first
time; and as it were flickeringly; the child's smile begins to grow definite
and; gradually; more frequent。 By very slow degrees the secrecy passes
away; and the dryness becomes more genial。 The child now smiles more
openly; but he is still very unlike the laughing creature of so much prose
and verse。 His laughter takes a long time to form。 The monosyllable
grows louder; and then comes to be repeated with little catches of the
breath。 The humour upon which he learns to laugh is that of something
which approaches him quickly and then withdraws。 This is the first
intelligible jest of jesting man。
An infant never meets your eyes; he evidently does not remark the
features of faces near him。 Whether because of the greater
conspicuousness of dark hair or dark hat; or for some like reason; he
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addresses his looks; his laughs; and apparently his criticism; to the heads;
not the faces; of his friends。 These are the ways of all infants; various in
character; parentage; race; and colour; they do the same things。 There are
turns in a kitten's playarched leapings and sidelong jumps; graceful
rearings and grotesque dances… …which the sacred kittens of Egypt used in
their time。 But not more alike are these repetitions than the impulses of
all young children learning to laugh。
In regard to the child of a somewhat later growth; we are told much of
his effect upon the world; not much of the effect of the world upon him。
Yet he is compelled to endure the reflex results; at least; of all that pleases;
distresses; or oppresses the world。 That he should be obliged to suffer the
moods of men is a more important thing than that men should be amused
by his moods。 If he is saddened; that is certainly much more than that his
elders should be gladdened。 It is doubtless hardly possible that children
should go altogether free of human affairs。 They might; in mere justice;
be spared the burden they bear ignorantly and simply when it is laid upon
them; of such events and ill fortunes as may trouble our peace; but they
cannot easily be spared the hearing of a disturbed voice or the sight of an
altered face。 Alas! they are made to feel money… matters; and even this is
not the worst。 There are unconfessed worldliness; piques; and rivalries;
of which they do not know the names; but which change the faces where
they look for smiles。 To such alterations children are sensitive even
when they seem least accessible to the commands; the warnings; the
threats; or the counsels of elders。 Of all these they may be gaily
independent; and yet may droop when their defied tyrants are dejected。
For though the natural spirit of children is happy; the happiness is a
mere impulse and is easily disconcerted。 They are gay without knowing
any very sufficient reason for being so; and when sadness is; as it were;
proposed to them; things fall away from under their feet; they are helpless
and find no stay。 For this reason the merriest of all children are those;
much pitied; who are brought up neither in a family nor in a public home
by paid guardians; but in a place of charity; rightly named; where impartial;
unalterable; and impersonal devotion has them in hand。 They endure an
immeasurable loss; and are orphans; but they gain in perpetual gaiety; they
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live in an unchanging temperature。 The separate nest is nature's; and the
best; but it might be wished that the separate nest were less subject to
moods。 The nurse has her private business; and when it does not prosper;
and when the remote affairs of the governess go wrong; the child receives
the ultimate vibration of the mishap。
The uniformity of infancy passes away long before the age when
children have this indefinite suffering inflicted upon them; and they have
become infinitely various; and feel the consequences of the cares of their
elders in unnumbered degrees。 The most charming children feel them the
most sensibly; and not with resentment but with sympathy。 It is assuredly