《人性的弱点》第6篇 第3章 这样做你就快要离婚了

所属:成长励志 阅读:5414 次 评论:0 条 [我要评论]  [+我要收藏]


Disraeli's bitterest rival in public life was the great Gladstone. Thesetwo clashed on every debatable subject under the Empire, yet theyhad one thing in common; the supreme happiness of their privatelives.

William and Catherine Gladstone lived together for fifty-nine years,almost three score years glorified with an abiding devotion. I like tothink of Gladstone, the most dignified of England's prime ministers,clasping his wife's hand and dancing around the hearthrug with her,singing this song:

A ragamuffin husband and a rantipoling wife,We'll fiddle it and scrape itthrough the ups and downsof life.

Gladstone, a formidable enemy in public, never criticized at home.When he came down to breakfast in the morning, only to discoverthat the rest of his family was still sleeping, he had a gentle way ofregistering his reproach. He raised his voice and filled the house witha mysterious chant that reminded the other members that England'sbusiest man was waiting downstairs for his breakfast, all alone.Diplomatic, considerate, he rigorously refrained from domesticcriticism.

And so, often, did Catherine the Great. Catherine ruled one of thelargest empires the world has ever known. Over millions of hersubjects she held the power of life and death. Politically, she wasoften a cruel tyrant, waging useless wars and sentencing scores ofher enemies to be cut down by firing squads. Yet if the cook burnedthe meat, she said nothing. She smiled and ate it with a tolerancethat the average American husband would do well to emulate.

Dorothy Dix, America's premier authority on the causes of maritalunhappiness, declares that more than fifty per cent of all marriagesare failures; and she knows that one of the reasons why so manyromantic dreams break up on the rocks of Reno is criticism—futile,heartbreaking criticism.

So, if you want to keep your home life happy, remember Rule 3:Don't criticize.

And if you are tempted to criticize the children . . . you imagine I amgoing to say don't. But I am not. I am merely going to say, beforeyou criticize them, read one of the classics of American journalism,"Father Forgets." It appeared originally as an editorial in the People'sHome Journal. We are reprinting it here with the author'spermission—reprinting it as it was condensed in the Reader's Digest:"Father Forgets" is one of those little pieces which— dashed off in amoment of sincere feeling—strikes an echoing chord in so manyreaders as to become a perennial reprint favourite. Since its firstappearance, some fifteen years ago, "Father Forgets" has beenreproduced, writes the author, W. Livingston Larned, "in hundreds ofmagazines and house organs, and in newspapers the country over. Ithas been reprinted almost as extensively in many foreign languages.I have given personal permission to thousands who wished to read itfrom school, church, and lecture platforms. It has been 'on the air'on countless occasions and programmes. Oddly enough, collegeperiodicals have used it, and high-school magazines. Sometimes alittle piece seems mysteriously to 'click.' This one certainly did."Father ForgetsW. Livingston Larned

Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little pawcrumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on yourdamp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a fewminutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling waveof remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

These are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. Iscolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave yourface merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaningyour shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your thingson the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped downyour food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter toothick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made formy train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Good-bye,Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold your Shouldersback!"

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up theroad I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There wereholes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boy friends bymarching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive—and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imaginethat, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how youcame in, timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When Iglanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, youhesitated at the door. "What is it you want?" I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, andthrew your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your smallarms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in yourheart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you weregone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from myhands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habitbeen doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding—thiswas my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not loveyou; it was that I expected too much of youth. It was measuring youby the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in yourcharacter. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself overthe wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rushin and kiss me goodnight. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I havecome to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there,ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand thesethings if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrowI will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when yousuffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue whenimpatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: "He isnothing but a boy—a little boy!"

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now,son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby.Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on hershoulder. I have asked too much, too much.








如果你要批评你的孩子,你以为我会劝阻你别那么做……不,不是那回事。我只是要这样告诉你,在你批评他们之前,不妨先把那篇「父亲所忘记的」的文章看一下. 这篇文章是在一本家庭杂志评论栏上刊登出来的。我们获得原著者的同意,特地转载在这里。









吃早餐的时候,我挑剔你的过错;说你这又不对,那又不是……你把臂肘搁在桌上 你在面包上敷的奶油太多。当你开始去游戏,而我去赶火车的时候,你转过身来,向我挥手说:「爹地,再见!」我又把眉皱了起来,说:「快回家去!」









标签:人性 弱点 离婚
2011-02-15 10:46 编辑:kuaileyingyu