第 10 节
作者:老山文学      更新:2021-02-20 04:46      字数:9322
  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
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  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。
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  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 …
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  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
  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
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  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 jus