But, I thought, there is always some sediment11 of irritation12 when the moment is as beautiful as it is now. The psychologists must explain; one looks up, one is overcome by beauty extravagantly13 greater than one could expect — there are now pink clouds over Battle; the fields are mottled, marbled — one’s perceptions blow out rapidly like air balls expanded by some rush of air, and then, when all seems blown to its fullest and tautest14, with beauty and beauty and beauty, a pin pricks15; it collapses17. But what is the pin? So far as I could tell, the pin had something to do with one’s own impotency. I cannot hold this — I cannot express this — I am overcome by it — I am mastered. Somewhere in that region one’s discontent lay; and it was allied18 with the idea that one’s nature demands mastery over all that it receives; and mastery here meant the power to convey what one saw now over Sussex so that another person could share it. And further, there was another prick16 of the pin: one was wasting one’s chance; for beauty spread at one’s right hand, at one’s left; at one’s back too; it was escaping all the time; one could only offer a thimble to a torrent19 that could fill baths, lakes.
But relinquish20, I said (it is well known how in circumstances like these the self splits up and one self is eager and dissatisfied and the other stern and philosophical), relinquish these impossible aspirations21; be content with the view in front of us, and believe me when I tell you that it is best to sit and soak; to be passive; to accept; and do not bother because nature has given you six little pocket knives with which to cut up the body of a whale.
While these two selves then held a colloquy22 about the wise course to adopt in the presence of beauty, I (a third party now declared itself) said to myself, how happy they were to enjoy so simple an occupation. There they sat as the car sped along, noticing everything: a hay stack; a rust23 red roof; a pond; an old man coming home with his sack on his back; there they sat, matching every colour in the sky and earth from their colour box, rigging up little models of Sussex barns and farmhouses24 in the red light that would serve in the January gloom. But I, being somewhat different, sat aloof25 and melancholy26. While they are thus busied, I said to myself: Gone, gone; over, over; past and done with, past and done with. I feel life left behind even as the road is left behind. We have been over that stretch, and are already forgotten. There, windows were lit by our lamps for a second; the light is out now. Others come behind us.
Then suddenly a fourth self (a self which lies in ambush27, apparently28 dormant29, and jumps upon one unawares. Its remarks are often entirely30 disconnected with what has been happening, but must be attended to because of their very abruptness) said: “Look at that.” It was a light; brilliant, freakish; inexplicable31. For a second I was unable to name it. “A star”; and for that second it held its odd flicker32 of unexpectedness and danced and beamed. “I take your meaning,” I said. “You, erratic33 and impulsive34 self that you are, feel that the light over the downs there emerging, dangles35 from the future. Let us try to understand this. Let us reason it out. I feel suddenly attached not to the past but to the future. I think of Sussex in five hundred years to come. I think much grossness will have evaporated. Things will have been scorched36 up, eliminated. There will be magic gates. Draughts37 fan-blown by electric power will cleanse38 houses. Lights intense and firmly directed will go over the earth, doing the work. Look at the moving light in that hill; it is the headlight of a car. By day and by night Sussex in five centuries will be full of charming thoughts, quick, effective beams.”
The sun was now low beneath the horizon. Darkness spread rapidly. None of my selves could see anything beyond the tapering39 light of our headlamps on the hedge. I summoned them together. “Now,” I said, “comes the season of making up our accounts. Now we have got to collect ourselves; we have got to be one self. Nothing is to be seen any more, except one wedge of road and bank which our lights repeat incessantly40. We are perfectly41 provided for. We are warmly wrapped in a rug; we are protected from wind and rain. We are alone. Now is the time of reckoning. Now I, who preside over the company, am going to arrange in order the trophies42 which we have all brought in. Let me see; there was a great deal of beauty brought in to-day: farmhouses; cliffs standing43 out to sea; marbled fields; mottled fields; red feathered skies; all that. Also there was disappearance44 and the death of the individual. The vanishing road and the window lit for a second and then dark. And then there was the sudden dancing light, that was hung in the future. What we have made then to-day,” I said, “is this: that beauty; death of the individual; and the future. Look, I will make a little figure for your satisfaction; here he comes. Does this little figure advancing through beauty, through death, to the economical, powerful and efficient future when houses will be cleansed45 by a puff46 of hot wind satisfy you? Look at him; there on my knee.” We sat and looked at the figure we had made that day. Great sheer slabs47 of rock, tree tufted, surrounded him. He was for a second very, very solemn. Indeed it seemed as if the reality of things were displayed there on the rug. A violent thrill ran through us; as if a charge of electricity had entered in to us. We cried out together: “Yes, yes,” as if affirming something, in a moment of recognition.
And then the body who had been silent up to now began its song, almost at first as low as the rush of the wheels: “Eggs and bacon; toast and tea; fire and a bath; fire and a bath; jugged hare,” it went on, “and red currant jelly; a glass of wine with coffee to follow, with coffee to follow — and then to bed and then to bed.”
“Off with you,” I said to my assembled selves. “Your work is done. I dismiss you. Good-night.”
And the rest of the journey was performed in the delicious society of my own body.
点击收听单词发音
1 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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2 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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3 lodging | |
n.寄宿,住所;(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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4 bead | |
n.念珠;(pl.)珠子项链;水珠 | |
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5 invalids | |
病人,残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
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6 obliterated | |
v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 );涂去;擦掉;彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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7 redeemed | |
adj. 可赎回的,可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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8 freckle | |
n.雀簧;晒斑 | |
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9 villas | |
别墅,公馆( villa的名词复数 ); (城郊)住宅 | |
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10 lucid | |
adj.明白易懂的,清晰的,头脑清楚的 | |
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11 sediment | |
n.沉淀,沉渣,沉积(物) | |
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12 irritation | |
n.激怒,恼怒,生气 | |
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13 extravagantly | |
adv.挥霍无度地 | |
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14 tautest | |
adj.紧的( taut的最高级 );绷紧的;(指肌肉或神经)紧张的;整洁的 | |
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15 pricks | |
刺痛( prick的名词复数 ); 刺孔; 刺痕; 植物的刺 | |
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16 prick | |
v.刺伤,刺痛,刺孔;n.刺伤,刺痛 | |
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17 collapses | |
折叠( collapse的第三人称单数 ); 倒塌; 崩溃; (尤指工作劳累后)坐下 | |
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18 allied | |
adj.协约国的;同盟国的 | |
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19 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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20 relinquish | |
v.放弃,撤回,让与,放手 | |
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21 aspirations | |
强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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22 colloquy | |
n.谈话,自由讨论 | |
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23 rust | |
n.锈;v.生锈;(脑子)衰退 | |
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24 farmhouses | |
n.农舍,农场的主要住房( farmhouse的名词复数 ) | |
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25 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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26 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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27 ambush | |
n.埋伏(地点);伏兵;v.埋伏;伏击 | |
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28 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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29 dormant | |
adj.暂停活动的;休眠的;潜伏的 | |
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30 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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31 inexplicable | |
adj.无法解释的,难理解的 | |
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32 flicker | |
vi./n.闪烁,摇曳,闪现 | |
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33 erratic | |
adj.古怪的,反复无常的,不稳定的 | |
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34 impulsive | |
adj.冲动的,刺激的;有推动力的 | |
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35 dangles | |
悬吊着( dangle的第三人称单数 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
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36 scorched | |
烧焦,烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(植物)枯萎,把…晒枯; 高速行驶; 枯焦 | |
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37 draughts | |
n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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38 cleanse | |
vt.使清洁,使纯洁,清洗 | |
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39 tapering | |
adj.尖端细的 | |
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40 incessantly | |
ad.不停地 | |
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41 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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42 trophies | |
n.(为竞赛获胜者颁发的)奖品( trophy的名词复数 );奖杯;(尤指狩猎或战争中获得的)纪念品;(用于比赛或赛跑名称)奖 | |
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43 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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44 disappearance | |
n.消失,消散,失踪 | |
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45 cleansed | |
弄干净,清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46 puff | |
n.一口(气);一阵(风);v.喷气,喘气 | |
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47 slabs | |
n.厚板,平板,厚片( slab的名词复数 );厚胶片 | |
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