CHAPTER V. PARENTS: FATHERS. PARENTS love their children as themselves; for that which proceeds from them becomes by the separation like another self;* and it is this consideration which leads us to look on children as olive branches, as sunbeams, as jewels, as all that is beautiful and delightful; but it ought not to prevent us from regarding them as deposits, of which we must render an account, and that account will be a solemn one. For just as the same soil and the same atmosphere produce complete opposites—a mellow grape and a poisonous berry-so the same family may send forth into the world devout and useful men, or wicked and abandoned profligates. Goodness is not enough for this influential position, a man must have wisdom as well; and hence it is often seen that one may be a good man, but a bad father. Few are able to appreciate to its full extent the responsibility of a father. On this point the physician has a claim to be heard as well as the theologian, and the one can demonstrate the teaching of the other, and both * Arist. Eth., viii. 12, 4. show how God visits the sins of the fathers upon the children, unto the third and fourth generation; for those who reject the Scripture theory of hereditary punishment, still find themselves at variance with medical science. The heathens recognised this doctrine by the light of nature, as we see in Eschylus and Sophocles, who have many warnings respecting hereditary punishment. There are, however, also hereditary blessings. Earl Stanhope is reported to have said, "In public life I have seen full as many men promoted for their fathers' talents as for their own." This compensation goes on all through the world, and reconciles a fair mind to hereditary liabilities. The circumstances of childhood have an early and a lasting influence. The very profession of a father tinges the mind of his infant. The minister's child would go with his little bell, and ring all the people to church; the soldier's child with his little drum would beat the whole neighbourhood to arms. Parents who are well-informed reap the benefit of that information; they are not ignorant of the secret influences and undercurrents which are flowing below the surface, and, consequently, they can exert their influence in the right direction and at the right time, and with concentrated energy. For it is ever to be borne in mind that the influence of home, like the attraction of gravity, is not proportionate to the surface, but to the mass. People talk and act unguardedly before children, *Cf. the "Agamemnon," vrs. 735, 761, 1566. † (θεοῖς) μηνίουσιν ἐις γένος πάλαι.-Soph. d., C. 965. fancying that they are too young to estimate what they see and hear. It is true, children may not at the time be able to judge; but words and actions are imprinted upon their memory, and in after years will be fresh and vivid there. When the judgment is matured, the man can call to mind the scenes of boyhood. Imagination resuscitates the characters of some bygone act, makes them go through their various parts, and rehearse their unguarded words again. Now, however, the man that was the boy can interpret a look or a gesture which to him at the time had no significance, and he can discover motives for acts which, to unjudging childhood, were strange or meaningless. Little do the incautious think that their behaviour is destined to pass under review at some future time, and receive condemnation-like some criminal that has for years eluded justice, but is at length apprehended, tried, convicted, and condemned. How true are the words of Juvenal: "The greatest reverence is due to children." * This is a peculiar argument, coming home to a father's heart, enforcing caution, circumspection, and reality. His example is intelligible and ever present, rapid as lightning, penetrating as mercury, more real than history, more authoritative than magistracy. Children are scrutinising, and even a child can detect a double life where the inner and outer life do not correspond; they can see when a father does not walk uprightly and yet there are many fathers as foolish as the crab of the fable, which expected his young ones : *"Maxima debetur puero reverentia."-Juv. Sat., xiv. 47. to walk straight, while he himself walked crooked and backwards.* Often by a single sign is a man's whole character disclosed. If you hide every part of a vulture, except its sharp talons, one can tell that it is a bird of prey. A certain father who was clothed in gravity, who could talk charmingly and pray earnestly, yet grudged the fire that warmed a dying daughter's room. By this one act he showed that covetousness was stronger than paternal affection. And indeed men are most easily gauged at home, where they lay aside their official and professional character, just as the anatomy of trees may be most easily studied when they are stripped of their leaves. It is to be feared that many, while in a process of deterioration, console themselves with the thought of what they have once been, and expect honour and reputation for the past; but past esteem is an aroma which evaporates and comes to nothing, therefore the source must be replenished day by day-fresh flowers must make fresh fragrance. The child is quick to notice the withered nosegay, but not skilful to disguise dislike. A grievous and galling penalty awaits the useless, trifling, * Thackeray has somewhere a pathetic apostrophe: "O Father beneficent! strengthen our hearts: strengthen and purify them, so that we may not have to blush before our children." The actual prayer of an infant forms a natural pendant to this cry: "Make papa and mamma good, for they are sometimes naughty." In the light of these prayers such an incident as the following is seen in its true proportions. At a wedding party Philip, King of Macedon, having indulged too freely in wine, stumbled and fell. His son taking advantage of the occasion exclaimed: "See the man who was preparing to pass from Europe to Asia. He is not able to pass from one table to another without falling."-Plut. in Alex. idle father, in his later years, if not before; he will feel himself a superfluity in his house. Such a punishment has overtaken even kings. Henry III. of France had passed his life playing at cup-and-ball, and snipping images out of pasteboard, or teaching his parrots to talk, or his lap-dogs to dance; and king though he was, he became a superfluity in his own realm.* The father of a family may learn much from his children. When Christ took the little child and placed it in the midst, what was that but an object-lesson of humility? An observant eye will also notice their trust, guilelessness, tenderness, freedom from care, simplicity and happiness, and how these are connected with each other. Parents will also be infected (and it is a wholesome infection) with the mirth of their children. Goethe said, "Intercourse with children always makes me feel young and happy." Some are too reserved with children, and certainly the warnings of the ancient Ecclesiasticus (xxx. 9) would sound almost as croaking in these modern times. "Cocker thy child," says he, "and he shall make thee afraid; play with him and he will bring thee to heaviness. Laugh not with him, lest thou have sorrow with him, and lest thou gnash thy teeth in the end." The current of philosophy in our day (and is it not right in this?) is to laugh and play with children, and to romp with them to their hearts' delight. An anecdote is told of a distinguished English statesman, who was gambolling with his children on the floor, when he saw a * Motley's "History of the United Netherlands," ii. 558. |
