THIS, then, was somewhat my state of mind, when, after our late tea on the verandah, I strolled out on to the lawn to enjoy my pipe in the quiet of the garden paths. I felt dissatisfied and disappointed, yet knew not entirely1 perhaps, the reason. I wished to be alone, but was hungry for companionship as well. Mother saw me go and watched attentively2, but said no word, merely following me a moment with her eyes above the edge of the Times she read, as of old, during the hours between tea and dinner. The Spectator, her worldly Bible, lay ready to her hand when the Times should have been finished. They were, respectively, as always, her dictionary of opinion, and her medicine-chest. Before I had gone a dozen yards, her head disappeared behind the printed sheet again. The roses flowed between us.
I felt her following glance, as I felt also its withdrawal3. Then I forgot her.... A touch of melancholy4 stole on me, as the garden took me in its charge. For a garden is a ghostly place, and an old-world garden, above all, leads thought backwards5 among vanished memories rather than forward among constructive6 hopes and joys.
I yielded, in any case, a little to this subtle pressure from the past, and I must have strolled among the lilac and laburnums for a longer time than I knew, since the gardener who had been trimming the flower-beds with a hand lawn-mower was gone, and dusk already veiled the cedars7, when I found myself leaning against the wooden gate that opened into the less formal part beyond the larches8.
The house was not visible from where I stood. I smelt10 the May, the lilac, the heavy perfume everywhere of the opening year; it rose about me in waves, as though full-bosomed summer lay breathing her great promises close at hand, while spring, still lingering, with bright eyes of dew,’ watched over her. Then, suddenly, behind these richer scents11, I caught a sweeter, wilder tang than anything they contained, and turning, saw that the pines were closer than I knew. A waft12 of something purer, fresher, reached my nostrils13 on a little noiseless wind, as, leaning across the gate, I turned my back upon the cultivated grounds and gazed into a region of more natural, tangled14 growth.
The change was sudden. It was exquisite15, sharp and unexpected, too, as with a little touch of wonder. There was surprise in it. For the garden, you will remember, melts here insensibly into a stretch of scattered16 pines, where heather and bracken cover wide reaches of unreclaimed and useless land. Irregular trails of whitish sand gleamed faintly before the shadows swallowed them, and in the open patches I saw young silver-birches that made me think of running children arrested in mid-play. They stood outlined very tenderly against the sky; their slender forms still quivered; their feathery hair fell earthwards as they drew themselves together, bending their wayward little heads before the approaching night. Behind them, framed by the darker pines into a glowing frieze17, the west still burned with the last fires of the sunset; I could see the heather, rising and falling like a tumbled sea against the horizon, where the dim heave of distant moorland broke the afterglow.
And the dusk now held this region in its magic. So strange, indeed, was the contrast between the ebony shadows and the pools and streaks18 of amberish light, that I looked about me for a moment, almost sharply. There was a touch of the unearthly in this loveliness that bewildered sight a little. Extraordinarily19 still the world was, yet there seemed activity close upon my footsteps, an activity more than of inanimate Nature, yet less than of human beings. With solidarity20 it had nothing to do, though it sought material expression. It was very near. And I was startled, I recognized the narrow frontier between fear and wonder. And then I crossed it.
For something stopped me dead. I paused and stared. My heart began to beat more rapidly. Then, ashamed of my moment’s hesitation21, I was about to move forward through the gate, when again I halted. I listened, and caught my breath. I fancied the stillness became articulate, the shadows stirred, the silence was about to break.
I remember trying to think; I wanted to relieve the singular tension by finding words, if only inner words — when, out of the stillness, out of the silence, out of the shadows — something happened. Some faculty22 of judgment23, some attitude in which I normally clothed myself, were abruptly24 stripped away. I was left bare and sensitive. I could almost have believed that my body had dropped aside, that I stood there naked, unprotected, a form-less spirit, stirred and lifted by the passing breeze.
And then it came. As with a sword-thrust of blinding sweetness, I was laid open. Yet so instant, and of such swiftness, was the stroke, that I can only describe it by saying that, while pierced and wounded, I was also healed again.
Without hint or warning, Beauty swept me with a pain and happiness well nigh intolerable. It drenched25 me and was gone. No lightning flash could have equalled the swiftness of its amazing passage; something tore in me; the emotion was enveloping26 but very tender; it was both terrible yet dear. Would to God I might crystallize it for you in those few mighty27 words which should waken in yourself — in every one! — the wonder and the joy. It contained, I felt, both the worship that belongs to awe28 and the tenderness of infinite love which welcomes tears. Some power that was not of this world, yet that used the details of this world to manifest, had visited me.
No element of surprise lay in it even. It was too swift for anything but joy, which of all emotions is the most instantaneous: I had been empty, I was filled. Beauty that bathes the stars and drowns the very universe had stolen out of this wild morsel29 of wasted and uncared-for English garden, and dropped its transforming magic into — me. At the very moment, moreover, when I had been ready to deny it altogether. I saw my insignificance30, yet, such was the splendour it had wakened in me, knew my right as well. It could be ever thus; some attitude in myself alone prevented....
And — somebody was pleased.
This personal ingredient lay secure in the joy that assuredly remained when the first brief intolerable ecstasy31 had passed. The link I desired to recognize was proved, not merely strengthened. Beauty had cleft32 me open, and a message, if you will, had been delivered. This personal hint persisted; I was almost aware of conscious and intelligent direction. For to you I will make the incredible confession33, that I dare phrase the experience in another fashion, equally true: In that flashing instant I stood naked and shelterless to the gaze of some one who had looked upon me. I was aware of sight; of eyes in which “burning memory lights love home.” These eyes, this sight had gazed at me, then turned away. For in that blinding sweetness there was light, as with the immediate34 withdrawal again there was instant darkness. I was first visible, then concealed35. I was clothed again and covered.
And the thick darkness that followed made it appear as though night, in one brief second, had taken the place of dusk.
Trembling, I leaned across the wooden gate and waited while the darkness settled closer. I can swear, moreover, that it was neither dream, nor hope, nor any hungry fantasy in me that then recognized a further marvel37 — I was no longer now alone.
A presence faced me, standing38 breast-high in the bracken. The garden had been empty; somebody now walked there with me.
It was, as I mentioned, the still hour between the twilight39 and the long, cool dark of early summer. The little breeze passed whispering through the pines. I smelt the pungent40 perfume of dry heather, sand, and bracken. The horizon, low down between the trunks, shone gold and crimson41 still, but fading rapidly. I stood there for a long time trembling; I was a part of it; I felt that I was shining, as though my inner joy irradiated the world about me. Nothing in all my life has been so real, so positive. I was assuredly not alone....
The first sharp magic, the flash that pierced and burned, had gone its way, but Beauty still stood so perilously42 near, so personal, that any moment, I felt, it must take tangible43 form, betray itself in visible movement of some sort, break possibly into audible sound of actual speech. It would not have surprised me — more, it would have been natural almost — had I felt a touch upon my hands and lips, or caught the murmur44 of spoken words against my ear.
Yet from such direct revelation I shrank involuntarily and by instinct. I could not have borne it then. I had the feeling that it must mar36 and defile45 a wonder already great enough; there would have lain in it, too, a betrayal of the commonplace, as of something which I could not possibly hold for true. I must have distrusted my own senses even, for the beauty that cleft me open dealt directly with the soul alone, leaving the senses wholly disengaged. The Presence was not answerable to any lesser46 recognition.
Thus I shrank and turned away, facing the familiar garden and the “wet bird-haunted English lawn,” a spiritual tenderness in me still dreading47 that I might see or hear or feel, destroying thus the reality of my experience. Yet there was, thank God, no speech, no touch, no movement, other than the shiver of the birches, the breath of air against my cheek, the droop48 and bending of the nearer pine boughs49. There was no audible or visible expression; I saw no figure breast-high in the bracken. Yet sound there was, a moment later. For, as I turned away, a bird upon a larch9 twig50 overhead burst into sudden and exultant51 song.
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1
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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constructive
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| adj.建设的，建设性的 | |
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cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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larches
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| n.落叶松（木材）( larch的名词复数 ) | |
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larch
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| n.落叶松 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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waft
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| v.飘浮，飘荡；n.一股；一阵微风；飘荡 | |
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13
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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solidarity
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| n.团结；休戚相关 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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30
insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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34
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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40
pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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44
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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45
defile
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| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
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46
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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47
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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48
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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49
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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50
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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51
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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