ItisalittledifficulttoexplainwhyIdidnotcometodowhatwasthenaturalthingforanyoneinmycircumstancestodo，andtakemyworldforgranted。Acertaininnatescepticism，Ithink，explainsitandacertaininaptitudeforsympatheticassimilation。Myfather，Ibelieve，wasasceptic；mymotherwascertainlyahardwoman。
Iwasanonlychild，andtothisdayIdonotknowwhethermyfatherislivingordead。Hefledmymother’svirtuesbeforemydistinctermemoriesbegan。Heleftnotracesinhisflight，andshe，inherindignation，destroyedeveryvestigethatshecouldofhim。NeveraphotographnorascrapofhishandwritinghaveI
seen；anditwas，Iknow，onlytheacceptedcodeofvirtueanddiscretionthatpreventedherdestroyinghermarriagecertificateandme，andsomakingacleansweepofhermatrimonialhumiliation。IsupposeImustinheritsomethingofthemoralstupiditythatwouldenablehertomakeaholocaustofeverylittlepersonalthingshehadofhim。Theremusthavebeenpresentsmadebyhimasalover，forexample——bookswithkindlyinscriptions，lettersperhaps，aflattenedflower，aring，orsuch-likegage。Shekeptherwedding-ring，ofcourse，butalltheothersshedestroyed。Shenevertoldmehischristiannameorindeedspokeawordtomeofhim；thoughattimesIcameneardaringtoaskher：addwhatIhaveofhim——itisn’tmuch——Igotfromhisbrother，myhero，myunclePonderevo。Sheworeherring；hermarriagecertificateshekeptinasealedenvelopeintheverybottomofherlargesttrunk，andmeshesustainedataprivateschoolamongtheKentishhills。YoumustnotthinkIwasalwaysatBladesover——eveninmyholidays。Ifatthetimethesecameround，LadyDrewwasvexedbyrecentCompany，orforanyotherreasonwishedtotakeitoutofmymother，thensheusedtoignorethecustomaryremindermymothergaveher，andI“stayedon“attheschool。
Butsuchoccasionswererare，andIsupposethatbetweentenandfourteenIaveragedfiftydaysayearatBladesover。
Don’timagineIdenythatwasafinethingforme。Bladesover，inabsorbingthewholecountryside，hadnotaltogethermissedgreatness。TheBladesoversystemhasatleastdoneonegoodthingforEngland，ithasabolishedthepeasanthabitofmind。
Ifmanyofusstillliveandbreathepantryandhousekeeper’sroom，wearequitofthedreamoflivingbyeconomisingparasiticallyonhensandpigs。Aboutthatparkthereweresomeelementsofaliberaleducation；therewasagreatspaceofgreenswardnotgivenovertomanureandfoodgrubbing；therewasmystery，therewasmatterfortheimagination。Itwasstillaparkofdeer。Isawsomethingofthelifeofthesedappledcreatures，heardthebellingofstags，cameuponyoungfawnsamongthebracken，foundbones，skulls，andantlersinlonelyplaces。Therewerecornersthatgaveagleamofmeaningtothewordforest，glimpsesofunstudiednaturalsplendour。Therewasaslopeofbluebellsinthebrokensunlightunderthenewlygreenbeechesinthewestwoodthatisnowprecioussapphireinmymemory；itwasthefirsttimethatIknowinglymetBeauty。
Andinthehousetherewerebooks。TherubbisholdLadyDrewreadIneversaw；stuffoftheMariaMonktype，Ihavesincegathered，hadafascinationforher；butbackinthepasttherehadbeenaDrewofintellectualenterprise，SirCuthbert，thesonofSirMatthewwhobuiltthehouse；andthrustaway，neglectedanddespised，inanoldroomupstairs，werebooksandtreasuresofhisthatmymotherletmeroutamongduringaspellofwintrywet。Sittingunderadormerwindowonashelfabovegreatstoresofteaandspices，IbecamefamiliarwithmuchofHogarthinabigportfolio，withRaphael，therewasagreatbookofengravingsfromthestanzasofRaphaelintheVatican——andwithmostofthecapitalsofEuropeastheyhadlookedabout1780，bymeansofseveralpigiron-mouldedbooksofviews。Therewasalsoabroadeighteenthcenturyatlaswithhugewanderingmapsthatinstructedmemightily。Ithadsplendidadornmentsabouteachmaptitle；Hollandshowedafishermanandhisboat；RussiaaCossack；Japan，remarkablepeopleattiredinpagodas——Isayitdeliberately，“pagodas。”TherewereTerraeIncognitaeineverycontinentthen，Poland，Sarmatia，landssincelost；andmanyavoyageImadewithabluntedpinaboutthatlarge，incorrectanddignifiedworld。Thebooksinthatlittleoldclosethadbeenbanished，Isuppose，fromthesaloonduringtheVictorianrevivalofgoodtasteandemasculatedorthodoxy，butmymotherhadnosuspicionoftheircharacter。SoIreadandunderstoodthegoodsoundrhetoricofTomPaine’s“RightsofMan。”andhis“CommonSense。”excellentbooks，oncepraisedbybishopsandsincesedulouslyliedabout。Gulliverwasthereunexpurgated，strongmeatforaboyperhapsbutnottoostrongIhold——IhaveneverregrettedthatIescapednicenessintheseaffairs。ThesatireofTraldragdubhmademybloodboilasitwasmeanttodo，butI
hatedSwiftfortheHouyhnhnmsandneverquitelikedahorseafterwards。ThenIrememberalsoatranslationofVoltaire’s“Candide。”and“Rasselas；“and，vastbookthoughitwas，IreallybelieveIread，inamuzzysortofwayofcourse，fromendtoend，andevenwithsomereferencenowandthentotheAtlas，Gibbon——intwelvevolumes。
Thesereadingswhettedmytasteformore，andsurreptitiouslyI
raidedthebookcasesinthebigsaloon。IgotthroughquiteanumberofbooksbeforemysacrilegioustemeritywasdiscoveredbyAnn，theoldhead-housemaid。IrememberthatamongothersI
triedatranslationofPlato’s“Republic“then，andfoundextraordinarilylittleinterestinit；Iwasmuchtooyoungforthat；but“Vathek“——“Vathek“wasgloriousstuff。Thatkickingaffair！WheneverybodyHADtokick！
Thethoughtof“Vathek“alwaysbringsbackwithitmyboyishmemoryofthebigsaloonatBladesover。
Itwasahugelongroomwithmanywindowsopeninguponthepark，andeachwindow——therewereadozenormorereachingfromthefloorup——haditselaboratesilkorsatincurtains，heavilyfringed，acanopy(isit？)above，itscompletelywhiteshuttersfoldingintothedeepthicknessofthewall。Ateitherendofthatgreatstillplacewasanimmensemarblechimney-piece；theendbythebookcaseshowedthewolfandRomulusandRemus，withHomerandVirgilforsupporters；thedesignoftheotherendI
haveforgotten。Frederick，PrinceofWales，swaggeredflatlyovertheone，twicelife-size，butmellowedbythesurfacegleamofoil；andovertheotherwasanequallycolossalgroupofdepartedDrewsassylvandeities，scantilyclad，againstastorm-rentsky。Downthecentreoftheelaborateceilingwerethreechandeliers，eachbearingsomehundredsofdanglingglasslustres，andovertheinterminablecarpet——itimpressedmeasaboutasbigasSarmatiainthestore-roomAtlas——wereislandsandarchipelagoesofchintz-coveredchairsandcouches，tables，greatSevresvasesonpedestals，abronzemanandhorse。
Somewhereinthiswildernessonecame，Iremember，upon——abigharpbesidealyre-shapedmusicstand，andagrandpiano。
Thebook-borrowingraidwasoneofextraordinarydashanddanger。
Onecamedownthemainservicestairs——thatwaslegal，andillegalitybeganinalittlelandingwhen，verycautiously，onewentthrougharedbaizedoor。Alittlepassageledtothehall，andhereonereconnoiteredforAnn，theoldhead-housemaid——theyoungerhousemaidswerefriendlyanddidnotcount。Annlocated，cameadashacrosstheopenspaceatthefootofthatgreatstaircasethathasneverbeenproperlydescendedsincepowderwentoutoffashion，andsotothesaloondoor。AbeastofanoscillatingChinamaninchina，aslargeaslife，grimacedandquiveredtoone’slighteststeps。Thatdoorwastheperilousplace；itwasdoublewiththethicknessofthewallbetween，sothatonecouldnotlistenbeforehandforthewhiskofthefeather-brushontheotherside。Oddlyrat-like，isitnot，thisdartingintoenormousplacesinpursuitoftheabandonedcrumbsofthought？
AndIfoundLanghorne’s“Plutarch“too，Iremember，onthoseshelves。ItseemsqueertomenowtothinkthatIacquiredprideandself-respect，theideaofastateandthegermofpublicspirit，insuchafurtivefashion；queer，too，thatitshouldrestwithanoldGreek，deadtheseeighteenhundredyearstoteachthat。
TheschoolIwenttowasthesortofschooltheBladesoversystempermitted。ThepublicschoolsthataddcomicintoexistenceinthebriefglowoftheRenascencehadbeentakenpossessionofbytherulingclass；thelowerclasseswerenotsupposedtostandinneedofschools，andourmiddlestratumgottheschoolsitdeserved，privateschools，schoolsanyunqualifiedpretenderwasfreetoestablish。MinewaskeptbyamanwhohadhadtheenergytogethimselfaCollegeofPreceptorsdiploma，andconsideringhowcheaphischargeswere，Iwillreadilyadmittheplacemighthavebeenworse。Thebuildingwasadingyyellow-brickresidenceoutsidethevillage，withtheschoolroomasanoutbuildingoflathandplaster。
Idonotrememberthatmyschool-dayswereunhappy——indeedI
recallagoodlotoffinemixedfuninthem——butIcannotwithoutgraveriskofmisinterpretationdeclarethatwewereatallniceandrefined。Wefoughtmuch，notsoundformalfighting，but“scrapping“ofasincereandmurderouskind，intowhichonemightbringone’sboots——itmadeustoughatanyrate——andseveralofuswerethesonsofLondonpublicans，whodistinguished“scraps“
whereonemeanttohurtfromorderedpugilism，practisingbotharts，andhaving，moreover，precociouslinguisticgifts。Ourcricket-fieldwasbaldaboutthewickets，andweplayedwithoutstyleanddisputedwiththeumpire；andtheteachingwaschieflyinthehandsofaloutofnineteen，whoworeready-madeclothesandtaughtdespicably。Thehead-masterandproprietortaughtusarithmetic，algebra，andEuclid，andtotheolderboyseventrigonometry，himself；hehadastrongmathematicalbias，andI
thinknowthatbythestandardofaBritishpublicschoolhedidratherwellbyus。
Wehadoneinestimableprivilegeatthatschool，andthatwasspiritualneglect。Wedealtwithoneanotherwiththeforciblesimplicityofnaturalboys，we“cheeked。”and“punched“and“clouted“；wethoughtourselvesRedIndiansandcowboysandsuch-likehonourablethings，andnotyoungEnglishgentlemen；weneverfeltthestrainof“OnwardChristiansoldiers。”norwereswayedbyanyprematurepietyinthecoldoakpewofourSundaydevotions。Allthatwasgood。Wespentourrarepenniesintheuncensoredreadingmatterofthevillagedame’sshop，ontheBoysofEngland，andhonestpennydreadfuls——rippingstuff，stuffthatanticipatedHaggardandStevenson，badlyprintedandqueerlyillustrated，andveryverygoodforus。Onourhalf-holidayswewereallowedtheunusualfreedomoframblingintwosandthreeswideandfarabouttheland，talkingexperimentally，dreamingwildly。Therewasmuchinthosewalks！TothisdaythelandscapeoftheKentishworld，withitslowbroaddistances，itshopgardensandgoldenstretchesofwheat，itsoastsandsquarechurchtowers，itsbackgroundofdownlandandhangers，hasformeafaintsenseofadventureaddedtothepleasureofitsbeauty。
Wesmokedonoccasion，butnobodyputusuptotheproper“boyish“thingstodo；wenever“robbedanorchard“forexample，thoughtherewereorchardsallaboutus，wethoughtstealingwassinful，westoleincidentalapplesandturnipsandstrawberriesfromthefieldsindeed，butinacriminalingloriousfashion，andafterwardswewereashamed。Wehadourdaysofadventure，buttheywerenaturalaccidents，ourownadventures。Therewasonehotdaywhenseveralofus，walkingouttowardsMaidstone，wereincitedbythedeviltodespisegingerbeer，andwefuddledourselvesdreadfullywithale；andatimewhenouryoungmindswereinfectedtothepitchofbuyingpistols，bythelegendoftheWildWest。YoungRootsfromHighburycamebackwitharevolverandcartridges，andwewentoffsixstrongtoliveafreewildlifeoneholidayafternoon。WefiredourfirstshotdeepintheoldflintmineatChiselstead，andnearlyburstoureardrums；thenwefiredinaprimrosestuddedwoodbyPickthornGreen，andIgaveafalsealarmof“keeper。”andwefledindisorderforamile。AfterwhichRootssuddenlyshotatapheasantinthehighroadbyChiselstead，andthenyoungBarkertoldliesabouttheseverityofthegamelawsandmadeRootssoreafraid，andwehidthepistolinadryditchoutsidetheschoolfield。Adayorsoafterwegotinagain，andignoringacertainfoulingandrustingofthebarrel，triedforarabbitatthreehundredyards。YoungRootsblewamolehillattwentypacesintoadustcloud，burnthisfingers，andscorchedhisface；andtheweaponhavingoncedisplayedthisstrangedispositiontoflamebackupontheshooter，wasnotsubsequentlyfired。
Onemainsourceofexcitementforuswas“cheeking“peopleinvansandcartsupontheGoudhurstroad；andgettingmyselfintoamonstrouswhitemessinthechalkpitsbeyondthevillage，andcatchingyellowjaundiceasasequeltobathingstarknakedwiththreeotherAdamites，oldEwartleadingthatfunction，intherivuletacrossHickson’smeadows，areamongmymemorabilia。
Thosefreeimaginativeafternoons！howmuchtheywereforus！howmuchtheydidforus！Allstreamscamefromthethenundiscovered“sourcesoftheNile“inthosedays，allthicketswereIndianjungles，andourbestgame，Isayitwithpride，I
