第9部分(第5/7 頁)

umed　with　a　desire　for　foreign　travel；　an　impatience　of　everything　familiar　fretted　me　through　all　the　changing　year。　If　I　had　not　at　length　found　the　opportunity　to　escape；　if　I　had　not　seen　the　landscapes　for　which　my　soul　longed；　I　think　I　must　have　moped　to　death。　Few　men；　assuredly；　have　enjoyed　such　wanderings　more　than　I；　and　few　men　revive　them　in　memory　with　a　richer　delight　or　deeper　longing。　But…　…whatever　temptation　es　to　me　in　mellow　autumn；　when　I　think　of　the　grape　and　of　the　olive……I　do　not　believe　I　shall　ever　again　cross　the　sea。　What　remains　to　me　of　life　and　of　energy　is　far　too　little　for　the　enjoyment　of　all　I　know；　and　all　I　wish　to　know；　of　this　dear　island。

As　a　child　I　used　to　sleep　in　a　room　hung　round　with　prints　after　English　landscape　painters……those　steel　engravings　so　mon　half　a　century　ago；　which　bore　the　legend；　〃From　the　picture　in　the　Vernon　Gallery。〃　Far　more　than　I　knew　at　the　time；　these　pictures　impressed　me；　I　gazed　and　gazed　at　them；　with　that　fixed　attention　of　a　child　which　is　half　curiosity；　half　reverie；　till　every　line　of　them　was　fixed　in　my　mind；　at　this　moment　I　see　the　black…and…white　landscapes　as　if　they　were　hanging　on　the　wall　before　me；　and　I　have　often　thought　that　this　early　training　of　the　imagination……for　such　it　was……has　much　to　do　with　the　passionate　love　of　rural　scenery　which　lurked　within　me　even　when　I　did　not　recognize　it；　and　which　now　for　many　a　year　has　been　one　of　the　emotions　directing　my　life。　Perhaps；　too；　that　early　memory　explains　why　I　love　a　good　black…　and…white　print　even　more　than　a　good　painting。　And……to　draw　yet　another　inference……here　may　be　a　reason　for　the　fact　that；　through　my　youth　and　early　manhood；　I　found　more　pleasure　in　Nature　as　represented　by　art　than　in　Nature　herself。