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the story of my heart-第9章

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flowed calm and silent by a thousand doors; rippling only where
the stream chafed against a chain。 Red pennants drooped; gilded
vanes gleamed on polished masts; black…pitched hulls glistened
like a black rook's feathers in sunlight; the clear air cut out
the forward angles of the warehouses; the shadowed wharves were
quiet in shadows that carried light; far down the ships that
were hauling out moved in repose; and with the stream floated
away into the summer mist。 There was a faint blue colour in the
air hovering between the built…up banks; against the lit walls;
in the hollows of the houses。 The swallows wheeled and climbed; twittered
and glided downwards。  Burning on; the great sun stood in the sky; heating
the parapet; glowing steadfastly upon me as when I rested in the narrow
valley grooved out in prehistoric
times。 Burning on steadfast; and ever present as my thought。
Lighting the broad river; the broad walls; lighting the least speck of dust;
lighting the great heaven; gleaming on my
finger…nail。 The fixed point of daythe sun。 I was intensely
conscious of it; I felt it; I felt the presence of the immense
powers of the universe; I felt out into the depths of the ether。 So
intensely conscious of the sun; the sky; the limitless space; I felt too in
the midst of eternity then; in the midst of the supernatural; among the
immortal; and the greatness of the material realised the spirit。  By these I
saw my soul; by these I knew the supernatural to be more intensely real than
the sun。 I touched the supernatural; the immortal; there that moment。

When; weary of walking on the pavements; I went to rest in the
National Gallery; I sat and rested before one or other of the
human pictures。 I am not a picture lover: they are flat surfaces; but those
that I call human are nevertheless
beautiful。 The knee in Daphnis and Chloe and the breast are
like living things; they draw the heart towards them; the heart
must love them。 I lived in looking; without beauty there is no
life for me; the divine beauty of flesh is life itself to me。
The shoulder in the Surprise; the rounded rise of the bust; the
exquisite tints of the ripe skin; momentarily gratified the sea…
thirst in me。 For I thirst with all the thirst of the salt sea;
and the sun…heated sands dry for the tide; with all the sea I
thirst for beauty。 And I know full well that one lifetime;
however long; cannot fill my heart。 My throat and tongue and
whole body have often been parched and feverish dry with
this measureless thirst; and again moist to the fingers' ends
like a sappy bough。 It burns in me as the sun burns in the
sky。

The glowing face of Cytherea in Titian's Venus and Adonis; the
heated cheek; the lips that kiss each eye that gazes on them;
the desiring glance; the golden hairsunbeams moulded into
featuresthis face answered me。 Juno's wide back and mesial
groove; is any thing so lovely as the back ? Cythereals poised
hips unveiled for judgment; these called up the same thirst I
felt on the green sward in the sun; on the wild beach listening
to the quiet sob as the summer wave drank at the land。 I will
search the world through for beauty。 I came here and sat to
rest before these in the days when I could not afford to buy so
much as a glass of ale; weary and faint from walking on stone
pavements。 I came later on; in better times; often straight
from labours which though necessary will ever be distasteful; always to rest
my heart with loveliness。 I go still; the divine beauty of flesh is life
itself to me。 It was; and is; one of my London pilgrimages。

Another was to the Greek sculpture galleries in the British
Museum。 The statues are not; it is said; the best; broken too; and
mutilated; and seen in a dull; commonplace light。 But they were
shapedivine shape of man and woman; the form of limb and torso; of bust
and neck; gave me a sighing sense of rest。 These were they who would have
stayed with me under the shadow of the
oaks while the blackbirds fluted and the south air swung the
cowslips。 They would have walked with me among the reddened
gold of the wheat。 They would have rested with me on the hill…tops and in
the narrow valley grooved of ancient times。 They would have listened with me
to the sob of the summer sea drinking theland。 These had thirsted of sun;
and earth;
and sea; and sky。 Their shape spoke this thirst and desire like
mineif I had lived with them from Greece till now
I should not have had enough of them。 Tracing the form of limb and torso
with the eye gave me a sense of rest。

Sometimes I came in from the crowded streets and ceaseless hum;
one glance at these shapes and I became myself。 Sometimes I came from the
Reading…room; where under the dome I often looked up from the desk and
realised the crushing hopelessness of books; useless; not equal to one
bubble borne along on the running brook I had walked by; giving no thought
like the spring when I lifted the water in my hand and saw the light gleam
on it。 Torso and limb; bust and neck instantly returned me to myself; I felt
as I did lying on the turf listening to the wind among the grass; it would
have seemed natural to have found butterflies fluttering among he statues。
The same deep desire was with me。 I shall always go to speak to them; they
are a place of pilgrimage; wherever there is a beautiful statue there is a
place of pilgrimage。

I always stepped aside; too; to look awhile at the head of
Julius Caesar。 The domes of the swelling temples of his broad
head are full of mind; evident to the eye as a globe is full of
substance to the sense of feeling in the hands that hold it。
The thin worn cheek is entirely human; endless difficulties
surmounted by endless labour are marked in it; as the sandblast;
by dint of particles ceaselessly driven; carves the hardest
material。 If circumstances favoured him he made those
circumstances his own by marvellous labour; so as justly to
receive the credit of chance。 Therefore the thin cheek is entirely
humanthe sum of human life made visible in one
facelabour; and endurance; and mind; and all in vain。 A
shadowof deep sadness has gathered on it in the years that
have passed; because endurance was without avail。 It is sadder
to look at than the grass…grown tumulus I used to sit by;
because it is a personality; and also on account of the extreme
folly of our human race ever destroying our greatest。

Far better had they endeavoured; however hopelessly; to keep him
living till this day。 Did but the race this hour possess one…
hundredth part of his breadth of view; how happy for them! Of
whom else can it be said that he had no enemies to forgive
because he recognised no enemy? Nineteen hundred years ago he
put in actual practice; with more arbitrary power than any
despot; those very principles of humanity which are now put
forward as the highest culture。 But he made them to be actual things under
his sway。

The one man filled with mind; the one man without avarice;
anger; pettiness; littleness; the one man generous and truly
great of all history。 It is enough to make one despair to think
of the mere brutes butting to death the great…minded Caesar。 He
comes nearest to the ideal of a design…power arranging the
affairs of the world for good in practical things。 Before his
facethe divine brow of mind above; the human suffering…drawn
cheek beneathmy own thought became set and strengthened。 That
I could but look at things in the broad way he did; that I
could not possess one particle of such width of intellect to
guide my own course; to cope with and drag forth from the iron…
resisting forces of the universe some one thing of my prayer for
the soul and for the flesh。

CHAPTER VI

THERE is a place in front of the Royal Exchange where the wide
pavement reaches out like a promontory。 It is in the shape of a
triangle with a rounded apex。 A stream of traffic runs on either side; and
other streets send their currents down into the
open space before it。 Like the spokes of a wheel converging
streams of human life flow into this agitated pool。 Horses and carriages;
carts; vans; omnibuses; cabs; every kind of conveyance cross each other's
course in every possible direction。 Twisting in and out by the wheels and
under the horses' heads; working a devious way; men and women of
all conditions wind a path over。 They fill the interstices
between the carriages and blacken the surface; till the
vans almost float on human beings。  Now the streams slacken; and now they
rush amain; but never cease; dark waves are always rolling down the incline
opposite; waves swell out from the side rivers; all London converges into
this focus。 There is an indistinguishable noiseit is not clatter; hum; or
roar; it is not resolvable; made up of a thousand thousand footsteps; from a
thousand hoofs; a thousand wheelsof haste; and shuffle; and quick
movements; and ponderous loads; no attention can resolve it into a fixed
sound。

Blue carts and yellow omnibuses; varnished carriages and brown
vans; green omnibuses and red cabs; pale loads of yellow straw;
rusty…red iron cluking on pointless carts; high white wool…
packs; grey horses; bay horses; black teams; sunlight sparkling
on brass ha
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