the children(孩子们)-第11章
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and tried to fix a passage in your mind as a kind of half… way mark； with
the deliberate provident intention of helping yourself through the time
during a future hearing； for you knew too well that you would have to bear
it all again。 You could not do the same with sermons； because； though
even more fatiguing； they were more or less different each time。
While your elders passed over some particularly tedious piece of road…
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…and a very tedious piece of road existed within short distance of every
house you lived in or stayed inin their usual state of partial absence of
mind； you； on the contrary； perceived every inch of it。 As to the length of
a bad night； or of a mere time of wakefulness at night； adult words do not
measure it； they hardly measure the time of merely waiting for sleep in
childhood。 Moreover； you were tired of other things； apart from the
duration of timethe names of streets； the names of tradesmen； especially
the fournisseurs of the household； who lived in them。
You were bored by people。 It did not occur to you to be tired of those
of your own immediate family； for you loved them immemorially。 Nor
were you bored by the newer personality of casual visitors； unless they
held you； as aforesaid； and made you so listen to their unintelligible voices
and so look at their mannered faces that they released you an older child
than they took you prisoner。 Butit is a reluctant confessionyou were
tired of your relations； you were weary of their bonnets。 Measured by
adult time； those bonnets were； it is to be presumed； of no more than
reasonable duration； they had no more than the average or common life。
You have no reason； looking back； to believe that your great…aunts wore
bonnets for great and indefinite spaces of time。 But； to your sense as a
child； long and changing and developing days saw the same harassing
artificial flowers hoisted up with the same black lace。 You would have
had a scruple of conscience as to really disliking the face； but you
deliberately let yourself go in detesting the bonnet。 So with dresses；
especially such as had any little misfit about them。 For you it had always
existed； and there was no promise of its ceasing。 You seemed to have
been aware of it for years。 By the way； there would be less cheap
reproving of little girls for desiring new clothes if the censors knew how
immensely old their old clothes are to them。
The fact is that children have a simple sense of the unnecessary
ugliness of things； and thatapart from the effects of ennuithey reject
that ugliness actively。 You have stood and listened to your mother's
compliments on her friend's hat； and have made your mental protest in
very definite words。 You thought it hideous； and hideous things offended
you then more than they have ever offended you since。 At nine years old
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you made people； alas！ responsible for their faces； as you do still in a
measure； though you think you do not。 You severely made them answer
for their clothes； in a manner which you have seen good reason； in later
life； to mitigate。 Upon curls； or too much youthfulness in the aged； you
had no mercy。 To sum up the things you hated inordinately； they were
friskiness of manner and of trimmings； and curls combined with rather
bygone or frumpish fashions。 Too much childish dislike was wasted so。
But you admired some things without regard to rules of beauty learnt
later。 At some seven years old you dwelt with delight upon the contrast
of a white kid glove and a bright red wrist。 Well； this is not the received
arrangement； but red and white do go well together； and their distribution
has to be taught with time。 Whose were the wrist and glove？ Certainly
some one's who must have been distressed at the bouquet of colour that
you admired。 This； however； was but a local admiration。 You did not
admire the girl as a whole。 She whom you adored was always a married
woman of a certain age； rather faded； it might be； but always divinely
elegant。 She alone was worthy to stand at the side of your mother。 You
lay in wait for the border of her train； and dodged for a chance of holding
her bracelet when she played。 You composed prose in honour of her and
called the composition （for reasons unknown to yourself） a 〃catalogue。〃
She took singularly little notice of you。
Wordsworth cannot say too much of your passion for nature。 The
light of summer morning before sunrise was to you a spiritual splendour
for which you wanted no name。 The Mediterranean under the first
perceptible touch of the moon； the calm southern sea in the full blossom of
summer； the early spring everywhere； in the showery streets； in the fields；
or at sea； left old childish memories with you which you try to evoke now
when you see them again。 But the cloudy dusk behind poplars on the
plains of France； the flying landscape from the train； willows； and the last
of the light； were more mournful to you then than you care to remember
now。 So were the black crosses on the graves of the French village； so
were cypresses； though greatly beloved。
If you were happy enough to be an internationally educated child； you
had much at heart the heart of every country you knew。 You disliked the
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English accent of your compatriots abroad with a scorn to which； needless
to say； you are not tempted now。 You had shocks of delight from Swiss
woods full of lilies of the valley； and from English fields full of cowslips。
You had disquieting dreams of landscape and sun； and of many of these
you cannot now tell which were visions of travel and which visions of
slumber。 Your strong sense of place made you love some places too
keenly for peace。
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