the spirit of place and other essays(地方的精神等)-第14章
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flight of single things； and the simple movement of intricate points。
The long stroke of the raindrop； which is the drop and its path at once；
being our impression of a shower； shows us how certainly our impression
is the effect of the lagging； and not of the haste； of our senses。 What we
are apt to call our quick impression is rather our sensibly tardy； unprepared；
surprised； outrun； lightly bewildered sense of things that flash and fall；
wink； and are overpast and renewed； while the gentle eyes of man hesitate
and mingle the beginning with the close。 These inexpert eyes； delicately
baffled； detain for an instant the image that puzzles them； and so dally
with the bright progress of a meteor； and part slowly from the slender
course of the already fallen raindrop； whose moments are not theirs。
There seems to be such a difference of instants as invests all swift
movement with mystery in man's eyes； and causes the past； a moment old；
to be written； vanishing； upon the skies。
The visible world is etched and engraved with the signs and records of
our halting apprehension； and the pause between the distant woodman's
stroke with the axe and its sound upon our ears is repeated in the
impressions of our clinging sight。 The round wheel dazzles it； and the
stroke of the bird's wing shakes it off like a captivity evaded。
Everywhere the natural haste is impatient of these timid senses； and their
perception； outrun by the shower； shaken by the light； denied by the
shadow； eluded by the distance； makes the lingering picture that is all our
art。 One of the most constant causes of all the mystery and beauty of that
art is surely not that we see by flashes； but that nature flashes on our
meditative eyes。 There is no need for the impressionist to make haste；
nor would haste avail him； for mobile nature doubles upon him； and plays
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with his delays the exquisite game of visibility。
Momently visible in a shower； invisible within the earth； the
ministration of water is so manifest in the coming rain…cloud that the
husbandman is allowed to see the rain of his own land； yet unclaimed in
the arms of the rainy wind。 It is an eager lien that he binds the shower
withal； and the grasp of his anxiety is on the coming cloud。 His sense of
property takes aim and reckons distance and speed； and even as he shoots
a little ahead of the equally uncertain ground…game； he knows
approximately how to hit the cloud of his possession。 So much is the
rain bound to the earth that； unable to compel it； man has yet found a way；
by lying in wait； to put his price upon it。 The exhaustible cloud
〃outweeps its rain；〃 and only the inexhaustible sun seems to repeat and to
enforce his cumulative fires upon every span of ground； innumerable。
The rain is wasted upon the sea； but only by a fantasy can the sun's waste
be made a reproach to the ocean； the desert； or the sealed…up street。
Rossetti's 〃vain virtues〃 are the virtues of the rain； falling unfruitfully。
Baby of the cloud； rain is carried long enough within that troubled
breast to make all the multitude of days unlike each other。 Rain； as the
end of the cloud； divides light and withholds it； in its flight warning away
the sun； and in its final fall dismissing shadow。 It is a threat and a
reconciliation； it removes mountains compared with which the Alps are
hillocks； and makes a childlike peace between opposed heights and
battlements of heaven。
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THE LETTERS OF MARCELINE
VALMORE
〃Prends garde e moi； ma fille； et couvre moi bien！〃 Marceline
Desbordes…Valmore； writing from France to her daughter Ondine； who
was delicate and chilly in London in 1841； has the same solicitous；
journeying fancy as was expressed by two other women； both also
Frenchwomen； and both articulate in tenderness。 Eugenie de Guerin； that
queen of sisters； had preceded her with her own complaint； 〃I have a pain
in my brother's side〃； and in another age Mme。 de Sevigne had suffered； in
the course of long posts and through infrequent lettersa protraction of
conjectured painwithin the frame of her absent daughter。 She phrased
her plight in much the same words； confessing the uncancelled union with
her child that had effaced for her the boundaries of her personal life。
Is not what we call a lifethe personal lifea separation from the
universal life； a seclusion； a division； a cleft； a wound？ For these women；
such a severance was in part healed； made whole； closed up； and cured。
Life was restored between two at a time of human… kind。 Did these three
women guess that their sufferings of sympathy with their children were
indeed the signs of a new and universal healththe prophecy of human
unity？
The sign might have been a more manifest and a happier prophecy had
this union of tenderness taken the gay occasion as often as the sad。 Except
at times； in the single case of Mme。 de Sevigne； all three far more
sensitive than the rest of the worldwere yet not sensitive enough to feel
equally the less sharp communication of joy。 They claimed； owned； and
felt sensibly the pangs and not the pleasures of the absent。 Or if not only
the pangs； at least they were apprehensive chiefly in that sense which
human anxiety and foreboding have lent to the word； they were
apprehensive of what they feared。 〃Are you warm？〃 writes Marceline
Valmore to her child。 〃You have so little to wearare you really warm？
Oh； take care of mecover me well。〃 Elsewhere she says； 〃You are an
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insolent child to think of work。 Nurse your health； and mine。 Let us
live like fools〃； whereby she meant that she should work with her own
fervent brain for both； and take the while her rest in Ondine。 If this
living and unshortened love was sad； it must be owned that so； too； was
the story。 Eugenie and Maurice de Guerin were both to die soon； and
Marceline was to lose this daughter and another。
But set free from the condition and occasion of pain and sorrow； this
life without boundaries which mothers have undergone seems to suggest
and to portend what the progressive charity of generations may beand is；
in fact； though the continuity does not always appearin the course of the
world。 If a love and life without boundaries go down from a mother into
her child； and from that child int
