the rhythm of life-第4部分

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Whistler；　of　supplanting。　　And　then　Mr。　Oscar　Wilde；　in　the　witty

and　delicate　series　of　inversions　which　he　headed　'The　Decay　of

Lying；'　declared　war　with　all　the　irresponsibility　naturally

attending　an　act　so　serious。　　He　seems　to　affirm　that　Nature　is　less

proportionate　to　man　than　is　architecture；　that　the　house　is　built

and　the　sofa　is　made　measurable　by　the　unit　measure　of　the　body；　but

that　the　landscape　is　set　to　some　other　scale。　　'I　prefer　houses　to

the　open　air。　　In　a　house　we　all　feel　of　the　proper　proportions。

Egotism　itself；　which　is　so　necessary　to　a　proper　sense　of　human

dignity；　is　absolutely　the　result　of　indoor　life。'　　Nevertheless；

before　it　is　too　late；　let　me　assert　that　though　nature　is　not

always　clearly　and　obviously　made　to　man's　measure；　he　is　yet　the

unit　by　which　she　is　measurable。　　The　proportion　may　be　far　to　seek

at　times；　but　the　proportion　is　there。　　Man's　farms　about　the　lower

Alps；　his　summer　pastures　aloft；　have　their　relation　to　the　whole

construction　of　the　range；　and　the　range　is　great　because　it　is

great　in　regard　to　the　village　lodged　in　a　steep　valley　in　the　foot

hills。　　The　relation　of　flower　and　fruit　to　his　hands　and　mouth；　to

his　capacity　and　senses　（I　am　dealing　with　size；　and　nothing　else）；

is　a　very　commonplace　of　our　conditions　in　the　world。　　The　arm　of

man　is　sufficient　to　dig　just　as　deep　as　the　harvest　is　to　be　sown。

And　if　some　of　the　cheerful　little　evidences　of　the　more　popular

forms　of　teleology　are　apt　to　be　baffled；　or　indefinitely　postponed；

by　the　retorts　that　suggest　themselves　to　the　modern　child；　there

remains　the　subtle　and　indisputable　witness　borne　by　art　itself：

the　body　of　man　composes　with　the　mass　and　the　detail　of　the　world。

The　picture　is　irrefutable；　and　the　picture　arranges　the　figure

amongst　its　natural　accessories　in　the　landscape；　and　would　not　have

them　otherwise。



But　there　is　one　conspicuous　thing　in　the　world　to　which　man　has　not

served　as　a　unit　of　proportion；　and　that　one　thing　is　a　popularly

revered　triumph　of　that　very　art　of　architecture　in　which　Mr。　Oscar

Wilde　has　confidence　for　keeping　things　in　scale。　　Human　ingenuity

in　designing　St。　Peter's　on　the　Vatican；　has　achieved　this　one

exception　to　the　universal　harmonya　harmony　enriched　by　discords；

but　always　on　one　certain　scale　of　noteswhich　the　body　makes　with

the　details　of　the　earth。　　It　is　not　in　the　landscape；　where　Mr。

Oscar　Wilde　has　too　rashly　looked　for　contempt　and　contumely；　but　in

the　art　he　holds　precious　as　the　minister　to　man's　egotism；　that

man's　Ego　is　defied。　　St。　Peter's　is　not　necessarily　too　large

（though　on　other　grounds　its　size　might　be　liable　to　correction）；　it

is　simply　out　of　relation　to　the　most　vital　thing　on　the　earththe

thing　which　has　supplied　some　secret　rod　to　measure　the　waves

withal；　and　the　whales；　the　sea…wall　cliffs；　the　ears　of　wheat；　the

cedar…branches；　pines　and　diamonds　and　apples。　　Now；　Emerson　would

certainly　not　have　felt　the　soft　shock　and　stimulus　of　delight　to

which　he　confesses　himself　to　be　liable　at　the　first　touch　of

certain　phrases；　had　not　the　words　in　every　case　enclosed　a　promise

of　further　truth　and　of　a　second　pleasure。　　One　of　these　swift　and

fruitful　experiences　visited　him　with　the　sayinggrown　popular

through　himthat　an　architect　should　have　a　knowledge　of　anatomy。

There　is　assuredly　a　germ　and　a　promise　in　the　phrase。　　It　delights

us；　first；　because　it　seems　to　recognise　the　organic；　as　distinct

from　the　merely　constructive；　character　of　finely　civilised

architecture；　and　next；　it　persuades　us　that　Vitruvius　had　in　truth

discovered　the　key　to　sizethe　unit　that　is　sometimes　so　obscurely；

yet　always　so　absolutely；　the　measure　of　what　is　great　and　small

among　things　animate　and　inanimate。　　And　in　spite　of　themselves　the

architects　of　St。　Peter's　were　constrained　to　take　something　from

man；　they　refused　his　height　for　their　scale；　but　they　tried　to　use

his　shape　for　their　ornament。　　And　so　in　the　blankest　dearth　of

fancy　that　ever　befel　architect　or　builder　they　imagined　human

beings　bigger　than　the　human　beings　of　experience；　and　by　means　of

these；　carved　in　stone　and　inlaid　in　mosaic；　they　set　up　a　relation

of　their　own。　　The　basilica　was　related　to　the　colossal　figure　（as　a

church　more　wisely　measured　would　have　been　to　living　man）；　and　so

ceased　to　be　large；　and　nothing　more　important　was　finally　achieved

than　transposal　of　the　whole　work　into　another　scale　of　proportions…

…a　scale　in　which　the　body　of　man　was　not　the　unit。　　The　pile　of

stones　that　make　St。　Peter's　is　a　very　little　thing　in　comparison

with　Soracte；　but　man；　and　man's　wife；　and　the　unequal　statures　of

his　children；　are　in　touch　with　the　structure　of　the　mountain　rather

than　with　that　of　the　church　which　has　been　conceived　without

reference　to　the　vital　and　fundamental　rule　of　his　inches。



Is　there　no　egotism；　ministering　to　his　dignity；　that　man；　having

the　law　of　the　organism　of　the　world　written　in　his　members；　can

take　with　him；　out　of　the　room　that　has　been　built　to　accord　with

him；　into　the　landscape　that　stands　only　a　little　further　away？　　He

has　deliberately　made　the　smoking　chair　and　the　table；　there　is

nothing　to　surprise　him　in　their　ministrations。　　But　what　profounder

homage　is　rendered　by　the　multitudinous　Nature　going　about　the

interests　and　the　business　of　which　he　knows　so　little；　and　yet

throughout　confessing　him！　　His　eyes　have　seen　her　and　his　ears　have

heard；　but　it　would　never　have　entered　into　his　heart　to　conceive

her。　　His　is　not　the　fancy　that　could　have　achieved　these　woods；

this　little　flush　of　summer　from　the　innumerable　flowering　of

grasses；　the　cyclic　recreation　of　seasons。　　And　yet　he　knows　that　he

is　imposed　upon　all　he　sees。　　His　stature　gives　laws。　　His　labour

only　is　needfulnot　a　greater　strength。　　And　the　sun　and　the

showers　are　made　sufficient　for　him。　　His　furniture　must　surely　be

adjudged　to　pay　him　but　a　coarse　flattery　in　comparison　with　the

subjection；　yet　the　aloofness；　of　all　this　wild　world。　　This　is　no

flattery。　　The　grass　is　lumpy；　as　Mr。　Oscar　Wilde　remarks　with

truth：　　Nature　is　not　man's　lacquey；　and　has　no　preoccupation　about

his　more　commonplace　comforts。　　These　he　gives　himself　indoors；　and

who　prizes；　with　any　self…respect；　the　things　carefully　provided　by

self…love？　　But　when　that　farouche　Nature；　who　has　never　spoken　to

him；　and　to　whom　he　has　never　had　the　opportunity　of　hinting　his

wishes　or　his　tasteswhen　she　reveals　the　suggestions　of　his　form

and　the　desire　of　his　eyes；　and　amongst　her　numberless　purposes　lets

him　surprise　in　her　the　purpose　to　accord　with　him；　and　lets　him

suspect　further　harmonies　which　he　has　not　yet　learnt　to　understand…

…then　man　becomes　conscious　of　having　received　a　token　from　her

lowliness；　and　a　favour　from　her　loveliness；　compared　with　which　the

care　wherewith　his　tailor　himself　has　fitted　him　might　leave　his

gratitude　cool。







BY　THE　RAILWAY　SIDE







My　train　drew　near　to　the　Via　Reggio　platform　on　a　day　between　two

of　the　harvests　of　a　hot　September；　the　sea　was　burning　blue；　and

there　were　a　sombreness　and　a　gravity　in　the　very　excesses　of　the

sun　as　his　fires　brooded　deeply　over　the　serried；　hardy；　shabby；

seaside　ilex…woods。　　I　had　come　out　of　Tuscany　and　was　on　my　way　to

the　Genovesato：　　the　steep　country　with　its　profiles；　bay　by　bay；　of

successive　mountains　grey　with　olive…trees；　between　the　flashes　of

the　Mediterranean　and　the　sky；　the　country　through　the　which　there

sounds　the　twanging　Genoese　language；　a　thin　Italian　mingled　with　a

little　Arabic；　more　Portuguese；　and　much　French。　　I　was　regretful　at

leaving　the　elastic　Tuscan　speech；　canorous　in　its　vowels　set　in

emphatic　L'S　and　M'S　and　the　vigorous　soft　spring　of　the　double

consonants。　　But　as　the　train　arrived　its　noises　were　drowned　by　a

voice　declaiming　in　the　tongue　I　was　not　to　hear　again　for　months

good　Italian。　　The　voice　was　so　loud　that　one　looked　for　the

audience：　　Whose　ears　was　it　seeking　to　reach　by　the　violence　done

to　every　syllable；　and　whose　feelings　would　it　touch　by　its

insincerity？　　The　tones　were　insincere；　but　there　was　passion　behind

them；　and　most　often　passion　acts　its　own　true　character　poorly；　and

consciously　enough　to　make　good　judges　think　it　a　mere　counterfeit。

Hamlet；　being　a　little　mad；　feigned　madness。　　It　is　when　I　am　angry

that　I　pretend　to　be　angry；　so　as　to　present　the　truth　in　an　obvious

and　intelligible　form。　　Thus　even　before　the　words　were

distinguishable　it　was　manifest　that　they　were　spoken　by　a　man　in

serious　trouble　who　had　false　ideas　as　to　what　is　convincing　in

elocution。



When　the　voice　became　audibly　articulate；　it　proved　to　be　shouting

blasphemies　from　the　broad　chest　of　a　middle…aged　manan　Italian　of

the　type　that　grows　stout　and　wears　whiskers。　　The　man　was　in

BOURGEOIS　dress；　and　he　stood　with　his　hat　off　in　front　of　the　small

station　building；　shaking　his　thick　fist　at　the　sky。　　No　one　was　on

the　platform　with　him　except　the　railway　officials；　who　seemed　in

doubt　as　to　their　duties　in　the　matter；　and　two　women。　　Of　one　of

these　there　was　nothing　to　remark　except　her　distress。　　She　wept　as

she　stood　at　the　door　of　the　waiting…room。　　Like　the　second　woman；

she　wore　the　dress　of　the　shopkeeping　class　throughout　Europe；　with

the　local　black　lace　veil　in　place　of　a　bonnet　over　her　hair。　　It　is

of　the　second　womanO　unfortunate　creature！that　this　record　is

madea　record　without　sequel；　without　consequence；　but　there　is

nothing　to　be　done　in　her　regard　except　so　to　remember　her。　　And

thus　much　I　think　I　owe　after　having　looked；　from　the　midst　of　the

negative　happiness　that　is　given　to　so　many　for　a　space　of　years；　at

some　minutes　of　her　despair。　　She　was　hanging　on　the　man's　arm　in

her　entreaties　that　he　would　stop　the　drama　he　was　enacting。　　She

had　wept　so　hard　that　her　face　was　disfigured。　　Across　her　nose　was