第 12 节
作者:扑火      更新:2021-02-19 21:35      字数:9322
  most sensibly; and not with resentment but with sympathy。                   It is assuredly
  in the absence of resentment that consists the virtue of childhood。                    What
  other thing are we to learn of them?             Not simplicity; for they are intricate
  enough。      Not gratitude; for their usual sincere thanklessness makes   half
  the   pleasure   of   doing   them   good。     Not   obedience;   for   the   child   is   born
  with the love of liberty。         And as for humility; the boast of a child is the
  frankest   thing   in   the   world。    A  child's   natural   vanity   is   not   merely   the
  delight in his own possessions; but the triumph over others less fortunate。
  If   this   emotion   were   not   so   young   it   would   be   exceedingly   unamiable。
  But the truth must be confessed that having very quickly learnt the value
  of comparison and relation; a child rejoices in the perception that what he
  has   is   better   than   what   his   brother   has;   this   comparison   is   a   means   of
  judging his fortune; after all。        It is true that if his brother showed distress;
  he   might   make   haste   to   offer   an   exchange。     But   the   impulse   of   joy   is
  candidly egotistic。
  It is the sweet and entire forgiveness of children; who ask pity for their
  sorrows from those who have caused them; who do not perceive that they
  are wronged; who never dream that they are forgiving; and who make no
  bargain for apologiesit is this that men and women are urged to learn of a
  child。     Graces      more    confessedly      childlike    they   make    shift   to  teach
  themselves。
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  FAIR AND BROWN
  George   Eliot;   in   one   of   her  novels;   has   a   good…natured   mother;   who
  confesses   that   when   she   administers   justice   she   is   obliged   to   spare   the
  offenders   who have   fair   hair;   because   they  look   so   much   more   innocent
  than the rest。      And if this is the state of maternal feelings where all are
  more   or   less   fair;   what   must   be   the   miscarriage   of   justice   in   countries
  where a BLOND angel makes his infrequent visit within the family circle?
  In England he is the rule; and supreme as a matter of course。                    He is
  〃English;〃      and   best;  as  is  the   early   asparagus    and    the  young    potato;
  according      to  the   happy    conviction     of  the   shops。    To    say   〃child〃    in
  England   is   to   say   〃fair…haired   child;〃   even   as   in   Tuscany   to   say   〃young
  man〃 is to say 〃tenor。〃         〃I have a little party to…night; eight or ten tenors;
  from neighbouring palazzi; to meet my English friends。〃
  But France is a greater enthusiast than our now country。                 The fairness
  and the golden hair are here so much a matter of orthodoxy; that they are
  not always mentioned; they are frequently taken for granted。                     Not so in
  France; the French go out of their way to make the exceptional fairness of
  their children the rule of their literature。          No French child dare show his
  face in a bookprose or poetrywithout blue eyes and fair hair。                    It is a
  thing about which the French child of real life can hardly escape a certain
  sensitiveness。      What; he may ask; is the use of being a dark…haired child
  of   fact;   when   all   the   emotion;   all   the   innocence;   all   the   romance;   are
  absorbed by the flaxen…haired child of fiction?               How deplorable that our
  mothers; the French infants may say; should have their unattained ideals in
  the    nurseries    of   the   imagination;      how    dismal    that   they   should     be
  perpetually      disillusioned    in   the  nurseries    of   fact!   Is   there   then    no
  sentiment   for   us?   they   may   ask。   Will   not   convention;   which   has   been
  forced     to  restore   the  advantage     to  truth   on  so   many    other   points;   be
  compelled to yield on this point also; and reconcile our aunts to the family
  colouring?
  All   the   schools    of  literature   are   in  a  tale。   The     classic   masters;
  needless to say; do not stoop to the colouring of boys and girls; but as soon
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  as the Romantiques arise; the cradle is there; and no soft hair ever in it that
  is not of some tone of gold; no eyes that are not blue; and no cheek that is
  not white and pink as milk and roses。              Victor Hugo; who discovered the
  child   of   modern   poetry;   never   omits   the   touch   of   description;   the   word
  BLOND is as inevitable as any epithet marshalled to attend its noun in a
  last… century poet's dictionary。        One would not have it away; one can hear
  the caress   with   which the  master   pronounces it;  〃making   his   mouth;〃   as
  Swift did for his 〃little language。〃          Nor does the customary adjective fail
  in   later  literature。    It  was    dear   to  the   Realist;   and   it  is  dear  to  the
  Symbolist。       The only difference is that in the French of the Symbolist it
  precedes the noun。
  And yet it is time that the sweetness of the dark child should have its
  day。    He   is   really   no   less   childlike   than   the   other。 There   is   a   pretty
  antithesis between the strong effect of his colouring and the softness of his
  years   and    of   his  months。    The     blond   human     being   man;     woman     or
  childhas the beauty of harmony; the hair plays off from the tones of the
  flesh; only a few degrees brighter or a few degrees darker。                    Contrast of
  colour there is; in the blue of the eyes; and in the red of cheek and lip; but
  there   is   no   contrast   of   tone。 The   whole   effect   is   that   of   much   various
  colour and of equal tone。          In the dark face there is hardly any colour and
  an    almost   complete     opposition     of  tone。    The    complete     opposition;    of
  course; would be black and white; and a beautiful dark child comes near to
  this; but for the lovely modifications; the warmth of his white; and of his
  black alike; so that the one tone; as well as the other; is softened towards
  brown。      It is the beauty of contrast; with a suggestion of harmonyas it
  were a beginning of harmonywhich is infinitely lovely。
  Nor is the dark child lacking in variety。          His radiant eyes range from a
  brown so bright that it looks golden in the light; to a brown so dark that it
  barely defines the pupil。         So is his hair various; answering the sun with
  unsuspected   touches;   not   of   gold   but   of   bronze。     And   his   cheek   is   not
  invariably pale。       A dusky rose sometimes lurks there with such an effect
  of vitality as you will hardly get from the shallower pink of the flaxened
  haired。     And the suggestion is that of late summer; the colour of   wheat
  almost     ready   for   the  harvest;   and   darker;   redder    flowerspoppies      and
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  others than come in Spring。
  The   dark   eyes;   besides;   are   generally   brighterthey   shelter   a   more
  liquid   light   than   the   blue   or   grey。 Southern   eyes   have   generally   most
  beautiful   whites。      And   as   to   the   charm   of   the   childish   figure;   there   is
  usually  an   infantine  slenderness   in   the little   Southener  that   is   at least   as
  young   and   sweet   as   the   round   form   of   the   blond   child。     And   yet   the
  painters of Italy would have none of it。             They rejected the dusky brilliant
  pale little Italians all about them; they would have none but flaxen…haired
  children; and they would have nothing that was slim; nothing that was thin;
  nothing that was shadowy。             They rejoiced in much fair flesh; and in all
  possible freshness。        So it was in fair Flanders as well as in dark Italy。 But
  so it was not in Spain。          The Pyrenees seemed to interrupt the tradition。
  And as Murillo saw the charm of dark heads; and the innocence of dark
  eyes;   so   did   one   English   painter。   Reynolds   painted   young   dark   hair   as
  tenderly as the youngest gold。
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  REAL CHILDHOOD
  The    world    is  old   because     its  history   is  made     up   of  successive
  childhoods and of their impressions。            Your hou