the rhythm of life-第1部分

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The　Rhythm　of　Life　and　other　Essays



by　Alice　Meynell









Contents



The　Rhythm　of　Life

Decivilised

A　Remembrance

The　Sun

The　Flower

Unstable　Equilibrium

The　Unit　of　the　World

By　the　Railway　Side

Pocket　Vocabularies

Pathos

The　Point　of　Honour

Composure

Dr。　Oliver　Wendell　Holmes

James　Russell　Lowell

Domus　Angusta

Rejection

The　Lesson　of　Landscape

Mr。　Coventry　Patmore's　Odes

Innocence　and　Experience

Penultimate　Caricature









THE　RHYTHM　OF　LIFE







If　life　is　not　always　poetical；　it　is　at　least　metrical。

Periodicity　rules　over　the　mental　experience　of　man；　according　to

the　path　of　the　orbit　of　his　thoughts。　　Distances　are　not　gauged；

ellipses　not　measured；　velocities　not　ascertained；　times　not　known。

Nevertheless；　the　recurrence　is　sure。　　What　the　mind　suffered　last

week；　or　last　year；　it　does　not　suffer　now；　but　it　will　suffer　again

next　week　or　next　year。　　Happiness　is　not　a　matter　of　events；　it

depends　upon　the　tides　of　the　mind。　　Disease　is　metrical；　closing　in

at　shorter　and　shorter　periods　towards　death；　sweeping　abroad　at

longer　and　longer　intervals　towards　recovery。　　Sorrow　for　one　cause

was　intolerable　yesterday；　and　will　be　intolerable　tomorrow；　today

it　is　easy　to　bear；　but　the　cause　has　not　passed。　　Even　the　burden

of　a　spiritual　distress　unsolved　is　bound　to　leave　the　heart　to　a

temporary　peace；　and　remorse　itself　does　not　remainit　returns。

Gaiety　takes　us　by　a　dear　surprise。　　If　we　had　made　a　course　of

notes　of　its　visits；　we　might　have　been　on　the　watch；　and　would　have

had　an　expectation　instead　of　a　discovery。　　No　one　makes　such

observations；　in　all　the　diaries　of　students　of　the　interior　world；

there　have　never　come　to　light　the　records　of　the　Kepler　of　such

cycles。　　But　Thomas　e　Kempis　knew　of　the　recurrences；　if　he　did　not

measure　them。　　In　his　cell　alone　with　the　elements'What　wouldst

thou　more　than　these？　for　out　of　these　were　all　things　made'he

learnt　the　stay　to　be　found　in　the　depth　of　the　hour　of　bitterness；

and　the　remembrance　that　restrains　the　soul　at　the　coming　of　the

moment　of　delight；　giving　it　a　more　conscious　welcome；　but　presaging

for　it　an　inexorable　flight。　　And　'rarely；　rarely　comest　thou；'

sighed　Shelley；　not　to　Delight　merely；　but　to　the　Spirit　of　Delight。

Delight　can　be　compelled　beforehand；　called；　and　constrained　to　our

serviceAriel　can　be　bound　to　a　daily　task；　but　such　artificial

violence　throws　life　out　of　metre；　and　it　is　not　the　spirit　that　is

thus　compelled。　　THAT　flits　upon　an　orbit　elliptically　or

parabolically　or　hyperbolically　curved；　keeping　no　man　knows　what

trysts　with　Time。



It　seems　fit　that　Shelley　and　the　author　of　the　IMITATION　should

both　have　been　keen　and　simple　enough　to　perceive　these　flights；　and

to　guess　at　the　order　of　this　periodicity。　　Both　souls　were　in　close

touch　with　the　spirits　of　their　several　worlds；　and　no　deliberate

human　rules；　no　infractions　of　the　liberty　and　law　of　the　universal

movement；　kept　from　them　the　knowledge　of　recurrences。　　Eppur　si

muove。　　They　knew　that　presence　does　not　exist　without　absence；　they

knew　that　what　is　just　upon　its　flight　of　farewell　is　already　on　its

long　path　of　return。　　They　knew　that　what　is　approaching　to　the　very

touch　is　hastening　towards　departure。　　'O　wind；'　cried　Shelley；　in

autumn；





'O　wind；

If　winter　comes；　can　spring　be　far　behind？'





They　knew　that　the　flux　is　equal　to　the　reflux；　that　to　interrupt

with　unlawful　recurrences；　out　of　time；　is　to　weaken　the　impulse　of

onset　and　retreat；　the　sweep　and　impetus　of　movement。　　To　live　in

constant　efforts　after　an　equal　life；　whether　the　equality　be　sought

in　mental　production；　or　in　spiritual　sweetness；　or　in　the　joy　of

the　senses；　is　to　live　without　either　rest　or　full　activity。　　The

souls　of　certain　of　the　saints；　being　singularly　simple　and　single；

have　been　in　the　most　complete　subjection　to　the　law　of　periodicity。

Ecstasy　and　desolation　visited　them　by　seasons。　　They　endured；

during　spaces　of　vacant　time；　the　interior　loss　of　all　for　which

they　had　sacrificed　the　world。　　They　rejoiced　in　the　uncovenanted

beatitude　of　sweetness　alighting　in　their　hearts。　　Like　them　are　the

poets　whom；　three　times　or　ten　times　in　the　course　of　a　long　life；

the　Muse　has　approached；　touched；　and　forsaken。　　And　yet　hardly　like

them；　not　always　so　docile；　nor　so　wholly　prepared　for　the

departure；　the　brevity；　of　the　golden　and　irrevocable　hour。　　Few

poets　have　fully　recognised　the　metrical　absence　of　their　Muse。　　For

full　recognition　is　expressed　in　one　only　waysilence。



It　has　been　found　that　several　tribes　in　Africa　and　in　America

worship　the　moon；　and　not　the　sun；　a　great　number　worship　both；　but

no　tribes　are　known　to　adore　the　sun；　and　not　the　moon。　　For　the

periodicity　of　the　sun　is　still　in　part　a　secret；　but　that　of　the

moon　is　modestly　apparent；　perpetually　influential。　　On　her　depend

the　tides；　and　she　is　Selene；　mother　of　Herse；　bringer　of　the　dews

that　recurrently　irrigate　lands　where　rain　is　rare。　　More　than　any

other　companion　of　earth　is　she　the　Measurer。　　Early　Indo…Germanic

languages　knew　her　by　that　name。　　Her　metrical　phases　are　the　symbol

of　the　order　of　recurrence。　　Constancy　in　approach　and　in　departure

is　the　reason　of　her　inconstancies。　　Juliet　will　not　receive　a　vow

spoken　in　invocation　of　the　moon；　but　Juliet　did　not　live　to　know

that　love　itself　has　tidal　timeslapses　and　ebbs　which　are　due　to

the　metrical　rule　of　the　interior　heart；　but　which　the　lover　vainly

and　unkindly　attributes　to　some　outward　alteration　in　the　beloved。

For　manexcept　those　elect　already　namedis　hardly　aware　of

periodicity。　　The　individual　man　either　never　learns　it　fully；　or

learns　it　late。　　And　he　learns　it　so　late；　because　it　is　a　matter　of

cumulative　experience　upon　which　cumulative　evidence　is　lacking。　　It

is　in　the　after…part　of　each　life　that　the　law　is　learnt　so

definitely　as　to　do　away　with　the　hope　or　fear　of　continuance。　　That

young　sorrow　comes　so　near　to　despair　is　a　result　of　this　young

ignorance。　　So　is　the　early　hope　of　great　achievement。　　Life　seems

so　long；　and　its　capacity　so　great；　to　one　who　knows　nothing　of　all

the　intervals　it　needs　must　holdintervals　between　aspirations；

between　actions；　pauses　as　inevitable　as　the　pauses　of　sleep。　　And

life　looks　impossible　to　the　young　unfortunate；　unaware　of　the

inevitable　and　unfailing　refreshment。　　It　would　be　for　their　peace

to　learn　that　there　is　a　tide　in　the　affairs　of　men；　in　a　sense　more

subtleif　it　is　not　too　audacious　to　add　a　meaning　to　Shakespeare

than　the　phrase　was　meant　to　contain。　　Their　joy　is　flying　away　from

them　on　its　way　home；　their　life　will　wax　and　wane；　and　if　they

would　be　wise；　they　must　wake　and　rest　in　its　phases；　knowing　that

they　are　ruled　by　the　law　that　commands　all　thingsa　sun's

revolutions　and　the　rhythmic　pangs　of　maternity。







DECIVILISED







The　difficulty　of　dealingin　the　course　of　any　critical　dutywith

decivilised　man　lies　in　this：　　when　you　accuse　him　of　vulgarity

sparing　him　no　doubt　the　wordhe　defends　himself　against　the　charge

of　barbarism。　　Especially　from　new　soiltransatlantic；　colonialhe

faces　you；　bronzed；　with　a　half　conviction　of　savagery；　partly

persuaded　of　his　own　youthfulness　of　race。　　He　writes；　and　recites；

poems　about　ranches　and　canyons；　they　are　designed　to　betray　the

recklessness　of　his　nature　and　to　reveal　the　good　that　lurks　in　the

lawless　ways　of　a　young　society。　　He　is　there　to　explain　himself；

voluble；　with　a　glossary　for　his　own　artless　slang。　　But　his

colonialism　is　only　provincialism　very　articulate。　　The　new　air　does

but　make　old　decadences　seem　more　stale；　the　young　soil　does　but　set

into　fresh　conditions　the　ready…made；　the　uncostly；　the　refuse

feeling　of　a　race　decivilising。　　American　fancy　played　long　this

pattering　part　of　youth。　　The　New…Englander　hastened　to　assure　you

with　so　self…denying　a　face　he　did　not　wear　war…paint　and　feathers；

that　it　became　doubly　difficult　to　communicate　to　him　that　you　had

suspected　him　of　nothing　wilder　than　a　second…hand　dress　coat。　　And

when　it　was　a　question　not　of　rebuke；　but　of　praise；　the　American

was　ill…content　with　the　word　of　the　judicious　who　lauded　him　for

some　delicate　successes　in　continuing　something　of　the　literature　of

England；　something　of　the　art　of　France；　he　was　more　eager　for　the

applause　that　stimulated　him　to　write　romances　and　to　paint

panoramic　landscape；　after　brief　training　in　academies　of　native

inspiration。　　Even　now　English　voices；　with　violent　commonplace；　are

constantly　calling　upon　America　to　beginto　begin；　for　the　world　is

expectant。　　Whereas　there　is　no　beginning　for　her；　but　instead　a

continuity　which　only　a　constant　care　can　guide　into　sustained

refinement　and　can　save　from　decivilisation。



But　decivilised　man　is　not　peculiar　to　new　soil。　　The　English　town；

too；　knows　him　in　all　his　dailiness。　　In　England；　too；　he　has　a

literature；　an　art；　a　music；　all　his　ownderived　from　many　and

various　things　of　price。　　Trash；　in　the　fulness　of　its　in　simplicity

and　cheapness；　is　impossible　without　a　beautiful　past。　　Its　chief

characteristicwhich　is　futility；　not　failurecould　not　be

achieved　but　by　the　long　abuse；　the　rotatory　reproduction；　the

quotidian　disgrace；　of　the　utterances　of　Art；　especially　the

utterance　by　words。　　Gaiety；　vigour；　vitality；　the　organic　quality；

purity；　simplicity；　precisionall　these　are　among　the　antecedents

of　trash。　　It　is　after　them；　it　is　also；　alas；　because　of　them。　　And

nothing　can　be　much　sadder　than　such　a　proof　of　what　may　possibly　be

the　failure　of　derivation。



Evidently　we　cannot　choose　our　posterity。　　Reversing　the　steps　of

time；　we　may；　indeed；　choose　backwards。　　We　may　give　our　thoughts

noble　forefathers。　　Well　begotten；　well　born　our　fancies　must　be；

they　shall　be　also　well　derived。　　We　have