the story of my heart-第7章

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boughs。　Bees　were　always　humming　in　the　green　field；　ring…doves　went　over
swiftly；　flying　for　the　woods。

Of　the　sun　I　was　conscious；　I　could　not　look　at　it；　but　the　boughs　held　back
the　beams　so　that　I　could　feel　the　sun's
presence　pleasantly。　They　shaded　the　sun；　yet　let　me　know　that
it　was　there。　There　came　to　me　a　delicate；　but　at　the　same　time
a　deep；　strong；　and　sensuous　enjoyment　of　the　beautiful　green
earth；　the　beautiful　sky　and　sun；　I　felt　them；　they　gave　me
inexpressible　delight；　as　if　they　embraced　and　poured　out　their　love　upon
me。　It　was　I　who　loved　them；　for　my　heart　was　broader　than　the　earth；　it　is
broader　now　than　even　then；　more　thirsty　and　desirous。　After　the　sensuous
enjoyment　always　came　the　thought；　the　desire：　That　I　might　be　like　this；
that　I　might　have　the　inner　meaning　of　the　sun；　the　light；　the　earth；　the
trees　and　grass；　translated　into　some　growth　of　excellence　in　myself；　both
of　body　and　of　mind；　greater　perfection　of　physique；　greater　perfection　of
mind　and　soul；　that　I　might　be　higher　in　myself。　To　this　oak　I　came　daily
for　a　long　time；　sometimes　only　for　a　minute；　for　just　to　view　the　spot　was
enough。　In　the　bitter　cold　of　spring；　when　the　north　wind　blackened
everything；　I　used　to　come　now　and　then　at　night　to　look　from　under　the　bare
branches　at　the　splendour　of　the　southern　sky。　The　stars　burned　with
brilliance；　broad　Orion　and　flashing　Siriusthere　are　more　or　brighter
constellations　visible　then　than　all　the　year：　and　the　clearness　of　the　air
and　the　blackness　of　the　skyblack；　not　cloudedlet　them　gleam　in　their
fulness。　They　lifted　methey　gave　me　fresh　vigour　of　soul。　Not　all　that　the
stars　could　have　given；　had　they　been　destinies；　could　have　satiated　me。
This；　all　this；　and
more；　I　wanted　in　myself。

There　was　a　place　a　mile　or　so　along　the　road　where　the　hills
could　be　seen　much　better；　I　went　there　frequently　to　think　the
same　thought。　Another　spot　was　by　an　elm；　a　very　short　walk；
where　openings　in　the　trees；　and　the　slope　of　the　ground；
brought　the　hills　well　into　view。　This　too；　was　a　favourite
thinking…place。　Another　was　a　wood；　half　an　hour's　walk
distant；　through　part　of　which　a　rude　track　went；　so　that　it　was
not　altogether　inclosed。　The　ash…saplings；　and　the　trees；　the
firs；　the　hazel　bushesto　be　among　these　enabled　me　to　be
myself。　From　the　buds　of　spring　to　the　berries　of　autumn；　I
always　liked　to　be　there。　Sometimes　in　spring　there　was　a　sheen　of
blue…bells　covering　acres；　the　doves　cooed；　the　blackbirds　whistled　sweetly；
there　was　a　taste　of　green　things　in　the　air。　But　it　was　the　tall　firs　that
pleased　me　most；　the　glance　rose　up　the　flame…shaped　fir…tree；　tapering　to
its　green　tip；　and　above　was　the　azure　sky。　By　aid　of　the　tree　I　felt　the
sky　more。　By　aid　of　everything　beautiful　I　felt　myself；　and　in　that　intense
sense　of　consciousness　prayed　for　greater　perfection　of　soul　and　body。

Afterwards；　I　walked　almost　daily　more　than　two　miles　along　the
road　to　a　spot　where　the　hills　began；　where　from　the　first　rise
the　road　could　be　seen　winding　southwards　over　the　hills；　open
and　uninclosed。　I　paused　a　minute　or　two　by　a　clump　of　firs；　in
whose　branches　the　wind　always　sighedthere　is　always　a　movement　of　the　air
on　a　hill。　　Southwwards　the　sky　was　illumined　by　the　sun；　southwards　the
clouds　moved　across　the　opening　or　pass　in　the　amphitheatre；　and　southwards；
though　far　distant；　was　the　sea。　There　I　could　think　a　moment。　These
pilgrimages　gave　me　a　few　sacred　minutes　daily；　the　moment　seemed　holy　when
the　thought　or　desire　came　in　its　full　force。

A　time　came　when；　having　to　live　in　a　town；　these　pilgrimages
had　to　be　suspended。　The　wearisome　work　on　which　I　was　engaged
would　not　permit　of　them。　But　I　used　to　look　now　and　then；　from
a　window；　in　the　evening　at　a　birch…tree　at　some　distance；　its
graceful　boughs　drooped　across　the　glow　of　the　sunset。　The
thought　was　not　suspended；　it　lived　in　me　always。　A　bitterer
time　still　came　when　it　was　necessary　to　be　separated　from　those
I　loved。　There　is　little　indeed　in　the　more　immediate　suburbs
of　London　to　gratify　the　sense　of　the　beautiful。　Yet　there　was　a　cedar　by
which　I　used　to　walk　up　and　down；　and　think　the
same　thoughts　as　under　the　great　oak　in　the　solitude　of　the　sunlit　meadows。
In　the　course　of　slow　time　happier　circumstances　brought　us　together　again；
and；　though　near　London；　at　a　spot　where　there　was　easy　access　to　meadows
and　woods。　Hills　that　purify　those　who　walk　on　them　there　were
not。　Still　I　thought　my　old　thoughts。

I　was　much　in　London；　and；　engagements　completed；　I　wandered　about　in　the
same　way　as　in　the　woods　of　former　days。　From　the
stone　bridges　I　looked　down　on　the　river；　the　gritty　dust；　the
straws　that　lie　on　the　bridges；　flew　up　and　whirled　round　with
every　gust　from　the　flowing　tide；　gritty　dust　that　settles　in
the　nostrils　and　on　the　lips；　the　very　residuum　of　all　that　is
repulsive　in　the　greatest　city　of　the　world。　The　noise　of　the
traffic　and　the　constant　pressure　from　the　crowds　passing；
their　incessant　and　disjointed　talk；　could　not　distract　me。　One　moment　at
least　I　had；　a　moment　when　I　thought　of　the　push　of　the　great　sea　forcing
the　water　to　flow　under　the　feet　of　these　crowds；　the　distant　sea　strong　and
splendid；　when　I　saw　the　sunlight　gleam　on　the　tidal　wavelets；　when　I　felt
the　wind；　and　was　conscious　of　the　earth；　the　sea；　the　sun；　the　air；　the
immense　forces　working　on；　while　the　city　hummed　by　the　river。　Nature　was
deepened　by　the　crowds　and　foot…worn　stones。　If　the　tide　had　ebbed；　and　the
masts　of　the　vessels　were　tilted　as　the　hulls　rested　on　the　shelving　mud；
still　even　the　blackened　mud　did　not　prevent　me　seeing　the　water　as　water
flowing　to　the　sea。　The　sea　had　drawn　down；　and　the　wavelets　washing　the
strand　here　as　they　hastened　were　running　the　faster　to　it。　Eastwards　from
London　Bridge　the　river　raced　to　the　ocean。

The　bright　morning　sun　of　summer　heated　the　eastern　parapet　of
London　Bridge；　I　stayed　in　the　recess　to　acknowledge　it。　The
smooth　water　was　a　broad　sheen　of　light；　the　built…up　river
flowed　calm　and　silent　by　a　thousand　doors；　rippling　only　where
the　stream　chafed　against　a　chain。　Red　pennants　drooped；　gilded
vanes　gleamed　on　polished　masts；　black…pitched　hulls　glistened
like　a　black　rook's　feathers　in　sunlight；　the　clear　air　cut　out
the　forward　angles　of　the　warehouses；　the　shadowed　wharves　were
quiet　in　shadows　that　carried　light；　far　down　the　ships　that
were　hauling　out　moved　in　repose；　and　with　the　stream　floated
away　into　the　summer　mist。　There　was　a　faint　blue　colour　in　the
air　hovering　between　the　built…up　banks；　against　the　lit　walls；
in　the　hollows　of　the　houses。　The　swallows　wheeled　and　climbed；　twittered
and　glided　downwards。　　Burning　on；　the　great　sun　stood　in　the　sky；　heating
the　parapet；　glowing　steadfastly　upon　me　as　when　I　rested　in　the　narrow
valley　grooved　out　in　prehistoric
times。　Burning　on　steadfast；　and　ever　present　as　my　thought。
Lighting　the　broad　river；　the　broad　walls；　lighting　the　least　speck　of　dust；
lighting　the　great　heaven；　gleaming　on　my
finger…nail。　The　fixed　point　of　daythe　sun。　I　was　intensely
conscious　of　it；　I　felt　it；　I　felt　the　presence　of　the　immense
powers　of　the　universe；　I　felt　out　into　the　depths　of　the　ether。　So
intensely　conscious　of　the　sun；　the　sky；　the　limitless　space；　I　felt　too　in
the　midst　of　eternity　then；　in　the　midst　of　the　supernatural；　among　the
immortal；　and　the　greatness　of　the　material　realised　the　spirit。　　By　these　I
saw　my　soul；　by　these　I　knew　the　supernatural　to　be　more　intensely　real　than
the　sun。　I　touched　the　supernatural；　the　immortal；　there　that　moment。

When；　weary　of　walking　on　the　pavements；　I　went　to　rest　in　the
National　Gallery；　I　sat　and　rested　before　one　or　other　of　the
human　pictures。　I　am　not　a　picture　lover：　they　are　flat　surfaces；　but　those
that　I　call　human　are　nevertheless
beautiful。　The　knee　in　Daphnis　and　Chloe　and　the　breast　are
like　living　things；　they　draw　the　heart　towards　them；　the　heart
must　love　them。　I　lived　in　looking；　without　beauty　there　is　no
life　for　me；　the　divine　beauty　of　flesh　is　life　itself　to　me。
The　shoulder　in　the　Surprise；　the　rounded　rise　of　the　bust；　the
exquisite　tints　of　the　ripe　skin；　momentarily　gratified　the　sea…
thirst　in　me。　For　I　thirst　with　all　the　thirst　of　the　salt　sea；
and　the　sun…heated　sands　dry　for　the　tide；　with　all　the　sea　I
thirst　for　beauty。　And　I　know　full　well　that　one　lifetime；
however　long；　cannot　fill　my　heart。　My　throat　and　tongue　and
whole　body　have　often　been　parched　and　feverish　dry　with
this　measureless　thirst；　and　again　moist　to　the　fingers'　ends
like　a　sappy　bough。　It　burns　in　me　as　the　sun　burns　in　the
sky。

The　glowing　face　of　Cytherea　in　Titian's　Venus　and　Adonis；　the
heated　cheek；　the　lips　that　kiss　each　eye　that　gazes　on　them；
the　desiring　glance；　the　golden　hairsunbeams　moulded　into
featuresthis　face　answered　me。　Juno's　wide　back　and　mesial
groove；　is　any　thing　so　lovely　as　the　back　？　Cythereals　poised
hips　unveiled　for　judgment；　these　called　up　the　same　thirst　I
felt　on　the　green　sward　in　the　sun；　on　the　wild　beach　listening
to　the　quiet　sob　as　the　summer　wave　drank　at　the　land。　I　will
search　the　world　through　for　beauty。　I　came　here　and　sat　to
rest　before　these　in　the　days　when　I　could　not　afford　to　buy　so
much　as　a　glass　of　ale；　weary　and　faint　from　walking　on　stone
pavements。　I　came　later　on；　in　better　times；　often　straight
from　labours　which　though　necessary　will　ever　be　distasteful；　always　to　rest
my　heart　with　loveliness。　I　go　still；　the　divine　beauty　of　flesh　is　life
itself　to　me。　It　was；　and　is；　one　of　my　London　pilgrimages。

Another　was　to　the　Greek　sculpture　galleries　in　the　British
Museum。　The　statues　are　not；　it　is　said；　the　best；　broken　too；　and
mutilated；　and　seen　in　a　dull；　commonplace　light。　But　they　were
shapedivine　shape　of　man　and　woman；　the　form　of　limb　and　torso；　of　bust
and　neck；　gave　me　a　sighing　sense　of　rest。　These　were　they　who　would　have
stayed　with　me　under　the　shadow　of　the
oaks　while　the　blackbirds　fluted　and　the　south　air　swung　the
cowslips。　They　would　have　walked　with　me　among　the　reddened
gold　of　the　wheat。　They　would　have　rested　with　me　on　the　hill…tops　and　in
the　narrow　valley　grooved　of　ancient　times。　They　would　have　listened　with　me
to　the　sob　of　the　summer　sea　drinking　theland。　These　had　thirsted　of　sun；
and　earth；
and　sea；　and　sky。　Their　shape　spoke　this　thirst　and　desire　like
mineif　I　had　lived　with　them　from　Greece　till　now
I　should　not　have　had　enough　of　them。　Tracing　the　form　of　limb　and　torso
with　the　eye　gave　me　a　sense　of　rest。

Sometimes　I　came　in　from　the　crowded　streets　and　ceaseless　hum；
one　glance　at　these　shapes　and　I　became　myself。　Sometimes　I　came　from　the
Reading…room；　where　under　the　dome　I　often　looked　up　from　the　desk　and
realised　the　crushing　hopelessness　of　books；　useless；　not　equal　to　one
bubble　borne　along　on　the　running　brook　I　had　walked　by；　giving　no　thought
like　the　spring　when　I　lifted　the　water　in　my　hand　and　saw　the　light　gleam
on　it。　Torso　and　limb；　bust　and　neck　instantly　returned　me　to　myself；　I　felt
as　I　did　lying　on　the　turf　listening　to　the　wind　among　the　grass；　it　would
have　seemed　natural