the colour of life(生命之色)-第11章
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
… Page 34…
THE COLOUR OF LIFE
and be conspicuous； and the barrow is there； true to time； and the spade。
（To call that spade a spade hardly seems enough。）
For the gracious grass of the summer has not been content within
enclosures。 It has … or would have … cheered up and sweetened
everything。 Over asphalte it could not prevail； and it has prettily yielded
to asphalte； taking leave to live and let live。 It has taken the little strip of
ground next to the asphalte； between this and the kerb； and again the
refuse of ground between the kerb and the roadway。 The man of business
walking to the station with a bag could have his asphalte all unbroken； and
the butcher's boy in his cart was not annoyed。 The grass seemed to
respect everybody's views； and to take only what nobody wanted。 But
these gay and lowly ways will not escape a vestry。
There is no wall so impregnable or so vulgar； but a summer's grass will
attempt it。 It will try to persuade the yellow brick； to win the purple slate；
to reconcile stucco。 Outside the authority of the suburbs it has put a
luminous touch everywhere。 The thatch of cottages has given it an
opportunity。 It has perched and alighted in showers and flocks。 It has
crept and crawled； and stolen its hour。 It has made haste between the ruts
of cart wheels； so they were not too frequent。 It has been stealthy in a
good cause； and bold out of reach。 It has been the most defiant runaway；
and the meekest lingerer。 It has been universal； ready and potential in
every place； so that the happy country … village and field alike … has been
all grass； with mere exceptions。
And all this the grass does in spite of the ill…treatment it suffers at the
hands； and mowing…machines； and vestries of man。 His ideal of grass is
growth that shall never be allowed to come to its flower and completion。
He proves this in his lawns。 Not only does he cut the coming grass…
flower off by the stalk； but he does not allow the mere leaf … the blade … to
perfect itself。 He will not have it a 〃blade〃 at all； he cuts its top away as
never sword or sabre was shaped。 All the beauty of a blade of grass is
that the organic shape has the intention of ending in a point。 Surely no
one at all aware of the beauty of lines ought to be ignorant of the
significance and grace of manifest intention； which rules a living line from
its beginning； even though the intention be towards a point while the first
34
… Page 35…
THE COLOUR OF LIFE
spring of the line is towards an opening curve。 But man does not care for
intention； he mows it。 Nor does he care for attitude； he rolls it。 In a
word； he proves to the grass； as plainly as deeds can do so； that it is not to
his mind。 The rolling； especially； seems to be a violent way of showing
that the universal grass interrupted by the life of the Englishman is not as
he would have it。 Besides； when he wishes to deride a city； he calls it
grass…grown。
But his suburbs shall not； if he can help it； be grass…grown。 They
shall not be like a mere Pisa。 Highgate shall not so； nor Peckham。
35
… Page 36…
THE COLOUR OF LIFE
A WOMAN IN GREY
The mothers of Professors were indulged in the practice of jumping at
conclusions； and were praised for their impatience of the slow process of
reason。
Professors have written of the mental habits of women as though they
accumulated generation by generation upon women； and passed over their
sons。 Professors take it for granted； obviously by some process other
than the slow process of reason； that women derive from their mothers and
grandmothers； and men from their fathers and grandfathers。 This； for
instance； was written lately： 〃This power ＇it matters not what＇ would be
about equal in the two sexes but for the influence of heredity； which turns
the scale in favour of the woman； as for long generations the surroundings
and conditions of life of the female sex have developed in her a greater
degree of the power in question than circumstances have required from
men。〃 〃Long generations〃 of subjection are； strangely enough； held to
excuse the timorousness and the shifts of women to…day。 But the world；
unknowing； tampers with the courage of its sons by such a slovenly
indulgence。 It tampers with their intelligence by fostering the ignorance
of women。
And yet Shakespeare confessed the participation of man and woman in
their common heritage。 It is Cassius who speaks：
〃Have you not love enough to bear with me When that rash humour
which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful？〃
And Brutus who replies：
〃Yes； Cassius； and from henceforth When you are over…earnest with
your Brutus He'll think your mother chides； and leave you so。〃
Dryden confessed it also in his praises of Anne Killigrew：
〃If by traduction came thy mind； Our wonder is the less to find A soul
so charming from a stock so good。 Thy father was transfused into thy
blood。〃
The winning of Waterloo upon the Eton playgrounds is very well； but
there have been some other； and happily minor； fields that were not won …
36
… Page 37…
THE COLOUR OF LIFE
that were more or less lost。 Where did this loss take place； if the gains
were secured at football？ This inquiry is not quite so cheerful as the
other。 But while the victories were once going 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
