the way of all flesh-第3部分

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By　us　at　the　Rectory　there　was　no　time　so　much　looked　forward　to　as
the　annual　visit　of　the　little　Pontifexes　to　Paleham。　　We　came　in
for　some　of　the　prevailing　licence；　we　went　to　tea　with　Mrs　Pontifex
to　meet　her　grandchildren；　and　then　our　young　friends　were　asked　to
the　Rectory　to　have　tea　with　us；　and　we　had　what　we　considered　great
times。　　I　fell　desperately　in　love　with　Alethea；　indeed　we　all　fell
in　love　with　each　other；　plurality　and　exchange　whether　of　wives　or
husbands　being　openly　and　unblushingly　advocated　in　the　very
presence　of　our　nurses。　　We　were　very　merry；　but　it　is　so　long　ago
that　I　have　forgotten　nearly　everything　save　that　we　WERE　very
merry。　　Almost　the　only　thing　that　remains　with　me　as　a　permanent
impression　was　the　fact　that　Theobald　one　day　beat　his　nurse　and
teased　her；　and　when　she　said　she　should　go　away　cried　out；　〃You
shan't　go　awayI'll　keep　you　on　purpose　to　torment　you。〃

One　winter's　morning；　however；　in　the　year　1811；　we　heard　the　church
bell　tolling　while　we　were　dressing　in　the　back　nursery　and　were
told　it　was　for　old　Mrs　Pontifex。　　Our　manservant　John　told　us　and
added　with　grim　levity　that　they　were　ringing　the　bell　to　come　and
take　her　away。　　She　had　had　a　fit　of　paralysis　which　had　carried　her
off　quite　suddenly。　　It　was　very　shocking；　the　more　so　because　our
nurse　assured　us　that　if　God　chose　we　might　all　have　fits　of
paralysis　ourselves　that　very　day　and　be　taken　straight　off　to　the
Day　of　Judgement。　　The　Day　of　Judgement　indeed；　according　to　the
opinion　of　those　who　were　most　likely　to　know；　would　not　under　any
circumstances　be　delayed　more　than　a　few　years　longer；　and　then　the
whole　world　would　be　burned；　and　we　ourselves　be　consigned　to　an
eternity　of　torture；　unless　we　mended　our　ways　more　than　we　at
present　seemed　at　all　likely　to　do。　　All　this　was　so　alarming　that
we　fell　to　screaming　and　made　such　a　hullabaloo　that　the　nurse　was
obliged　for　her　own　peace　to　reassure　us。　　Then　we　wept；　but　more
composedly；　as　we　remembered　that　there　would　be　no　more　tea　and
cakes　for　us　now　at　old　Mrs　Pontifex's。

On　the　day　of　the　funeral；　however；　we　had　a　great　excitement；　old
Mr　Pontifex　sent　round　a　penny　loaf　to　every　inhabitant　of　the
village　according　to　a　custom　still　not　uncommon　at　the　beginning　of
the　century；　the　loaf　was　called　a　dole。　　We　had　never　heard　of　this
custom　before；　besides；　though　we　had　often　heard　of　penny　loaves；
we　had　never　before　seen　one；　moreover；　they　were　presents　to　us　as
inhabitants　of　the　village；　and　we　were　treated　as　grown　up　people；
for　our　father　and　mother　and　the　servants　had　each　one　loaf　sent
them；　but　only　one。　　We　had　never　yet　suspected　that　we　were
inhabitants　at　all；　finally；　the　little　loaves　were　new；　and　we　were
passionately　fond　of　new　bread；　which　we　were　seldom　or　never
allowed　to　have；　as　it　was　supposed　not　to　be　good　for　us。　　Our
affection；　therefore；　for　our　old　friend　had　to　stand　against　the
combined　attacks　of　archaeological　interest；　the　rights　of
citizenship　and　property；　the　pleasantness　to　the　eye　and　goodness
for　food　of　the　little　loaves　themselves；　and　the　sense　of
importance　which　was　given　us　by　our　having　been　intimate　with
someone　who　had　actually　died。　　It　seemed　upon　further　inquiry　that
there　was　little　reason　to　anticipate　an　early　death　for　anyone　of
ourselves；　and　this　being　so；　we　rather　liked　the　idea　of　someone
else's　being　put　away　into　the　churchyard；　we　passed；　therefore；　in
a　short　time　from　extreme　depression　to　a　no　less　extreme
exultation；　a　new　heaven　and　a　new　earth　had　been　revealed　to　us　in
our　perception　of　the　possibility　of　benefiting　by　the　death　of　our
friends；　and　I　fear　that　for　some　time　we　took　an　interest　in　the
health　of　everyone　in　the　village　whose　position　rendered　a
repetition　of　the　dole　in　the　least　likely。

Those　were　the　days　in　which　all　great　things　seemed　far　off；　and　we
were　astonished　to　find　that　Napoleon　Buonaparte　was　an　actually
living　person。　　We　had　thought　such　a　great　man　could　only　have
lived　a　very　long　time　ago；　and　here　he　was　after　all　almost　as　it
were　at　our　own　doors。　　This　lent　colour　to　the　view　that　the　Day　of
Judgement　might　indeed　be　nearer　than　we　had　thought；　but　nurse　said
that　was　all　right　now；　and　she　knew。　　In　those　days　the　snow　lay
longer　and　drifted　deeper　in　the　lanes　than　it　does　now；　and　the
milk　was　sometimes　brought　in　frozen　in　winter；　and　we　were　taken
down　into　the　back　kitchen　to　see　it。　　I　suppose　there　are　rectories
up　and　down　the　country　now　where　the　milk　comes　in　frozen　sometimes
in　winter；　and　the　children　go　down　to　wonder　at　it；　but　I　never　see
any　frozen　milk　in　London；　so　I　suppose　the　winters　are　warmer　than
they　used　to　be。

About　one　year　after　his　wife's　death　Mr　Pontifex　also　was　gathered
to　his　fathers。　　My　father　saw　him　the　day　before　he　died。　　The　old
man　had　a　theory　about　sunsets；　and　had　had　two　steps　built　up
against　a　wall　in　the　kitchen　garden　on　which　he　used　to　stand　and
watch　the　sun　go　down　whenever　it　was　clear。　　My　father　came　on　him
in　the　afternoon；　just　as　the　sun　was　setting；　and　saw　him　with　his
arms　resting　on　the　top　of　the　wall　looking　towards　the　sun　over　a
field　through　which　there　was　a　path　on　which　my　father　was。　　My
father　heard　him　say　〃Good…bye；　sun；　good…bye；　sun；〃　as　the　sun
sank；　and　saw　by　his　tone　and　manner　that　he　was　feeling　very
feeble。　　Before　the　next　sunset　he　was　gone。

There　was　no　dole。　　Some　of　his　grandchildren　were　brought　to　the
funeral　and　we　remonstrated　with　them；　but　did　not　take　much　by
doing　so。　　John　Pontifex；　who　was　a　year　older　than　I　was；　sneered
at　penny　loaves；　and　intimated　that　if　I　wanted　one　it　must　be
because　my　papa　and　mamma　could　not　afford　to　buy　me　one；　whereon　I
believe　we　did　something　like　fighting；　and　I　rather　think　John
Pontifex　got　the　worst　of　it；　but　it　may　have　been　the　other　way。　　I
remember　my　sister's　nurse；　for　I　was　just　outgrowing　nurses　myself；
reported　the　matter　to　higher　quarters；　and　we　were　all　of　us　put　to
some　ignominy；　but　we　had　been　thoroughly　awakened　from　our　dream；
and　it　was　long　enough　before　we　could　hear　the　words　〃penny　loaf〃
mentioned　without　our　ears　tingling　with　shame。　　If　there　had　been　a
dozen　doles　afterwards　we　should　not　have　deigned　to　touch　one　of
them。

George　Pontifex　put　up　a　monument　to　his　parents；　a　plain　slab　in
Paleham　church；　inscribed　with　the　following　epitaph：…

SACRED　TO　THE　MEMORY
OF
JOHN　PONTIFEX
WHO　WAS　BORN　AUGUST　16TH；
1727；　AND　DIED　FEBRUARY　8；　1812；
IN　HIS　85TH　YEAR；
AND　OF
RUTH　PONTIFEX；　HIS　WIFE；
WHO　WAS　BORN　OCTOBER　13；　1727；　AND　DIED　JANUARY　10；　1811；
IN　HER　84TH　YEAR。
THEY　WERE　UNOSTENTATIOUS　BUT　EXEMPLARY
IN　THE　DISCHARGE　OF　THEIR
RELIGIOUS；　MORAL；　AND　SOCIAL　DUTIES。
THIS　MONUMENT　WAS　PLACED
BY　THEIR　ONLY　SON。



CHAPTER　IV



In　a　year　or　two　more　came　Waterloo　and　the　European　peace。　　Then　Mr
George　Pontifex　went　abroad　more　than　once。　　I　remember　seeing　at
Battersby　in　after　years　the　diary　which　he　kept　on　the　first　of
these　occasions。　　It　is　a　characteristic　document。　　I　felt　as　I　read
it　that　the　author　before　starting　had　made　up　his　mind　to　admire
only　what　he　thought　it　would　be　creditable　in　him　to　admire；　to
look　at　nature　and　art　only　through　the　spectacles　that　had　been
handed　down　to　him　by　generation　after　generation　of　prigs　and
impostors。　　The　first　glimpse　of　Mont　Blanc　threw　Mr　Pontifex　into　a
conventional　ecstasy。　　〃My　feelings　I　cannot　express。　　I　gasped；　yet
hardly　dared　to　breathe；　as　I　viewed　for　the　first　time　the　monarch
of　the　mountains。　　I　seemed　to　fancy　the　genius　seated　on　his
stupendous　throne　far　above　his　aspiring　brethren　and　in　his
solitary　might　defying　the　universe。　　I　was　so　overcome　by　my
feelings　that　I　was　almost　bereft　of　my　faculties；　and　would　not　for
worlds　have　spoken　after　my　first　exclamation　till　I　found　some
relief　in　a　gush　of　tears。　　With　pain　I　tore　myself　from
contemplating　for　the　first　time　'at　distance　dimly　seen'　（though　I
felt　as　if　I　had　sent　my　soul　and　eyes　after　it）；　this　sublime
spectacle。〃　　After　a　nearer　view　of　the　Alps　from　above　Geneva　he
walked　nine　out　of　the　twelve　miles　of　the　descent：　　〃My　mind　and
heart　were　too　full　to　sit　still；　and　I　found　some　relief　by
exhausting　my　feelings　through　exercise。〃　　In　the　course　of　time　he
reached　Chamonix　and　went　on　a　Sunday　to　the　Montanvert　to　see　the
Mer　de　Glace。　　There　he　wrote　the　following　verses　for　the　visitors'
book；　which　he　considered；　so　he　says；　〃suitable　to　the　day　and
scene〃：…


Lord；　while　these　wonders　of　thy　hand　I　see；
My　soul　in　holy　reverence　bends　to　thee。
These　awful　solitudes；　this　dread　repose；
Yon　pyramid　sublime　of　spotless　snows；
These　spiry　pinnacles；　those　smiling　plains；
This　sea　where　one　eternal　winter　reigns；
These　are　thy　works；　and　while　on　them　I　gaze
I　hear　a　silent　tongue　that　speaks　thy　praise。


Some　poets　always　begin　to　get　groggy　about　the　knees　after　running
for　seven　or　eight　lines。　　Mr　Pontifex's　last　couplet　gave　him　a　lot
of　trouble；　and　nearly　every　word　has　been　erased　and　rewritten　once
at　least。　　In　the　visitors'　book　at　the　Montanvert；　however；　he　must
have　been　obliged　to　commit　himself　definitely　to　one　reading　or
another。　　Taking　the　verses　all　round；　I　should　say　that　Mr　Pontifex
was　right　in　considering　them　suitable　to　the　day；　I　don't　like
being　too　hard　even　on　the　Mer　de　Glace；　so　will　give　no　opinion　as
to　whether　they　are　suitable　to　the　scene　also。

Mr　Pontifex　went　on　to　the　Great　St　Bernard　and　there　he　wrote　some
more　verses；　this　time　I　am　afraid　in　Latin。　　He　also　took　good　care
to　be　properly　impressed　by　the　Hospice　and　its　situation。　　〃The
whole　of　this　most　extraordinary　journey　seemed　like　a　dream；　its
conclusion　especially；　in　gentlemanly　society；　with　every　comfort
and　accommodation　amidst　the　rudest　rocks　and　in　the　region　of
perpetual　snow。　　The　thought　that　I　was　sleeping　in　a　convent　and
occupied　the　bed　of　no　less　a　person　than　Napoleon；　that　I　was　in
the　highest　inhabited　spot　in　the　old　world　and　in　a　place
celebrated　in　every　part　of　it；　kept　me　awake　some　time。〃　　As　a
contrast　to　this；　I　may　quote　here　an　ex