the colour of life-第9节

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forward　in　the　playground；　the　defeats　or　disasters　were　once　going

forward　in　some　other　place；　presumably。　　And　this　was　surely　the

place　that　was　not　a　playground；　the　place　where　the　future　wives　of

the　football　players　were　sitting　still　while　their　future　husbands

were　playing　football。



This　is　the　train　of　thought　that　followed　the　grey　figure　of　a

woman　on　a　bicycle　in　Oxford　Street。　　She　had　an　enormous　and　top…

heavy　omnibus　at　her　back。　　All　the　things　on　the　near　side　of　the

street　…　the　things　going　her　way　…　were　going　at　different　paces；

in　two　streams；　overtaking　and　being　overtaken。　　The　tributary

streets　shot　omnibuses　and　carriages；　cabs　and　carts　…　some　to　go

her　own　way；　some　with　an　impetus　that　carried　them　curving　into　the

other　current；　and　other　some　making　a　straight　line　right　across

Oxford　Street　into　the　street　opposite。　　Besides　all　the　unequal

movement；　there　were　the　stoppings。　　It　was　a　delicate　tangle　to

keep　from　knotting。　　The　nerves　of　the　mouths　of　horses　bore　the

whole　charge　and　answered　it；　as　they　do　every　day。



The　woman　in　grey；　quite　alone；　was　immediately　dependent　on　no

nerves　but　her　own；　which　almost　made　her　machine　sensitive。　　But

this　alertness　was　joined　to　such　perfect　composure　as　no　flutter　of

a　moment　disturbed。　　There　was　the　steadiness　of　sleep；　and　a

vigilance　more　than　that　of　an　ordinary　waking。



At　the　same　time；　the　woman　was　doing　what　nothing　in　her　youth

could　well　have　prepared　her　for。　　She　must　have　passed　a　childhood

unlike　the　ordinary　girl's　childhood；　if　her　steadiness　or　her

alertness　had　ever　been　educated；　if　she　had　been　rebuked　for

cowardice；　for　the　egoistic　distrust　of　general　rules；　or　for　claims

of　exceptional　chances。　　Yet　here　she　was；　trusting　not　only　herself

but　a　multitude　of　other　people；　taking　her　equal　risk；　giving　a

watchful　confidence　to　averages　…　that　last；　perhaps；　her　strangest

and　greatest　success。



No　exceptions　were　hers；　no　appeals；　and　no　forewarnings。　　She

evidently　had　not　in　her　mind　a　single　phrase；　familiar　to　women；

made　to　express　no　confidence　except　in　accidents；　and　to　proclaim　a

prudent　foresight　of　the　less　probable　event。　　No　woman　could　ride　a

bicycle　along　Oxford　Street　with　any　such　baggage　as　that　about　her。



The　woman　in　grey　had　a　watchful　confidence　not　only　in　a　multitude

of　men　but　in　a　multitude　of　things。　　And　it　is　very　hard　for　any

untrained　human　being　to　practise　confidence　in　things　in　motion　…

things　full　of　force；　and；　what　is　worse；　of　forces。　　Moreover；

there　is　a　supreme　difficulty　for　a　mind　accustomed　to　search

timorously　for　some　little　place　of　insignificant　rest　on　any

accessible　point　of　stable　equilibrium；　and　that　is　the　difficulty

of　holding　itself　nimbly　secure　in　an　equilibrium　that　is　unstable。

Who　can　deny　that　women　are　generally　used　to　look　about　for　the

little　stationary　repose　just　described？　　Whether　in　intellectual　or

in　spiritual　things；　they　do　not　often　live　without　it。



She；　none　the　less；　fled　upon　unstable　equilibrium；　escaped　upon　it；

depended　upon　it；　trusted　it；　was　‘ware　of　it；　was　on　guard　against

it；　as　she　sped　amid　her　crowd　her　own　unstable　equilibrium；　her

machine's；　that　of　the　judgment；　the　temper；　the　skill；　the

perception；　the　strength　of　men　and　horses。



She　had　learnt　the　difficult　peace　of　suspense。　　She　had　learnt　also

the　lowly　and　self…denying　faith　in　common　chances。　　She　had　learnt

to　be　content　with　her　share　…　no　more　…　in　common　security；　and　to

be　pleased　with　her　part　in　common　hope。　　For　all　this；　it　may　be

repeated；　she　could　have　had　but　small　preparation。　　Yet　no　anxiety

was　hers；　no　uneasy　distrust　and　disbelief　of　that　human　thing　…　an

average　of　life　and　death。



To　this　courage　the　woman　in　grey　had　attained　with　a　spring；　and

she　had　seated　herself　suddenly　upon　a　place　of　detachment　between

earth　and　air；　freed　from　the　principal　detentions；　weights；　and

embarrassments　of　the　usual　life　of　fear。　　She　had　made　herself；　as

it　were；　light；　so　as　not　to　dwell　either　in　security　or　danger；　but

to　pass　between　them。　　She　confessed　difficulty　and　peril　by　her

delicate　evasions；　and　consented　to　rest　in　neither。　　She　would　not

owe　safety　to　the　mere　motionlessness　of　a　seat　on　the　solid　earth；

but　she　used　gravitation　to　balance　the　slight　burdens　of　her

wariness　and　her　confidence。　　She　put　aside　all　the　pride　and　vanity

of　terror；　and　leapt　into　an　unsure　condition　of　liberty　and

content。



She　leapt；　too；　into　a　life　of　moments。　　No　pause　was　possible　to

her　as　she　went；　except　the　vibrating　pause　of　a　perpetual　change

and　of　an　unflagging　flight。　　A　woman；　long　educated　to　sit　still；

does　not　suddenly　learn　to　live　a　momentary　life　without　strong

momentary　resolution。　　She　has　no　light　achievement　in　limiting　not

only　her　foresight；　which　must　become　brief；　but　her　memory；　which

must　do　more；　for　it　must　rather　cease　than　become　brief。　　Idle

memory　wastes　time　and　other　things。　　The　moments　of　the　woman　in

grey　as　they　dropped　by　must　needs　disappear；　and　be　simply

forgotten；　as　a　child　forgets。　　Idle　memory；　by　the　way；　shortens

life；　or　shortens　the　sense　of　time；　by　linking　the　immediate　past

clingingly　to　the　present。　　Here　may　possibly　be　found　one　of　the

reasons　for　the　length　of　a　child's　time；　and　for　the　brevity　of　the

time　that　succeeds。　　The　child　lets　his　moments　pass　by　and　quickly

become　remote　through　a　thousand　little　successive　oblivions。　　He

has　not　yet　the　languid　habit　of　recall。



〃Thou　art　my　warrior；〃　said　Volumnia。　　〃I　holp　to　frame　thee。〃



Shall　a　man　inherit　his　mother's　trick　of　speaking；　or　her　habit　and

attitude；　and　not　suffer　something；　against　his　will；　from　her

bequest　of　weakness；　and　something；　against　his　heart；　from　her

bequest　of　folly？　　From　the　legacies　of　an　unlessoned　mind；　a

woman's　heirs…male　are　not　cut　off　in　the　Common　Law　of　the

generations　of　mankind。　　Brutus　knew　that　the　valour　of　Portia　was

settled　upon　his　sons。







SYMMETRY　AND　INCIDENT







The　art　of　Japan　has　none　but　an　exterior　part　in　the　history　of　the

art　of　nations。　　Being　in　its　own　methods　and　attitude　the　art　of

accident；　it　has；　appropriately；　an　accidental　value。　　It　is　of

accidental　value；　and　not　of　integral　necessity。　　The　virtual

discovery　of　Japanese　art；　during　the　later　years　of　the　second

French　Empire；　caused　Europe　to　relearn　how　expedient；　how　delicate；

and　how　lovely　Incident　may　look　when　Symmetry　has　grown　vulgar。

The　lesson　was　most　welcome。　　Japan　has　had　her　full　influence。

European　art　has　learnt　the　value　of　position　and　the　tact　of　the

unique。　　But　Japan　is　unlessoned；　and　（in　all　her　characteristic

art）　content　with　her　own　conventions；　she　is　local；　provincial；

alien；　remote；　incapable　of　equal　companionship　with　a　world　that

has　Greek　art　in　its　own　history　…　Pericles　〃to　its　father。〃



Nor　is　it　pictorial　art；　or　decorative　art　only；　that　has　been

touched　by　Japanese　example　of　Incident　and　the　Unique。　　Music　had

attained　the　noblest　form　of　symmetry　in　the　eighteenth　century；　but

in　music；　too；　symmetry　had　since　grown　dull；　and　momentary　music；

the　music　of　phase　and　of　fragment；　succeeded。　　The　sense　of

symmetry　is　strong　in　a　complete　melody　…　of　symmetry　in　its　most

delicate　and　lively　and　least　stationary　form　…　balance；　whereas　the

leit…motif　is　isolated。　　In　domestic　architecture　Symmetry　and

Incident　make　a　familiar　antithesis　…　the　very　commonplace　of　rival

methods　of　art。　　But　the　same　antithesis　exists　in　less　obvious

forms。　　The　poets　have　sought　〃irregular〃　metres。　　Incident　hovers；

in　the　very　act　of　choosing　its　right　place；　in　the　most　modern　of

modern　portraits。　　In　these　we　have；　if　not　the　Japanese　suppression

of　minor　emphasis；　certainly　the　Japanese　exaggeration　of　major

emphasis；　and　with　this　a　quickness　and　buoyancy。　　The　smile；　the

figure；　the　drapery　…　not　yet　settled　from　the　arranging　touch　of　a

hand；　and　showing　its　mark　…　the　restless　and　unstationary　foot；　and

the　unity　of　impulse　that　has　passed　everywhere　like　a　single

breeze；　all　these　have　a　life　that　greatly　transcends　the　life　of

Japanese　art；　yet　has　the　nimble　touch　of　Japanese　incident。　　In

passing；　a　charming　comparison　may　be　made　between　such　portraiture

and　the　aspect　of　an　aspen　or　other　tree　of　light　and　liberal　leaf；

whether　still　or　in　motion　the　aspen　and　the　free…leafed　poplar　have

the　alertness　and　expectancy　of　flight　in　all　their　flocks　of

leaves；　while　the　oaks　and　elms　are　gathered　in　their　station。　　All

this　is　not　Japanese；　but　from　such　accident　is　Japanese　art

inspired；　with　its　good　luck　of　perceptiveness。



What　symmetry　is　to　form；　that　is　repetition　in　the　art　of　ornament。

Greek　art　and　Gothic　alike　have　series；　with　repetition　or　counter…

change　for　their　ruling　motive。　　It　is　hardly　necessary　to　draw　the

distinction　between　this