the story of my heart-第9节

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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