sartor resartus-第29节

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ury：〃　　to　such　it　will　be　clear　that；　for　a　pure　moral　nature；　the　loss　of　his　religious　Belief　was　the　loss　of　everything。　　Unhappy　young　man！　　All　wounds；　the　crush　of　long…continued　Destitution；　the　stab　of　false　Friendship　and　of　false　Love；　all　wounds　in　thy　so　genial　heart；　would　have　healed　again；　had　not　its　life…warmth　been　withdrawn。　　Well　might　he　exclaim；　in　his　wild　way：　　〃Is　there　no　God；　then；　but　at　best　an　absentee　God；　sitting　idle；　ever　since　the　first　Sabbath；　at　the　outside　of　his　Universe；　and　_see_ing　it　go？　　Has　the　word　Duty　no　meaning；　is　what　we　call　Duty　no　divine　Messenger　and　Guide；　but　a　false　earthly　Phantasm；　made　up　of　Desire　and　Fear；　of　emanations　from　the　Gallows　and　from　Doctor　Graham's　Celestial…Bed？　Happiness　of　an　approving　Conscience！　　Did　not　Paul　of　Tarsus；　whom　admiring　men　have　since　named　Saint；　feel　that　_he_　was　'the　chief　of　sinners；'　and　Nero　of　Rome；　jocund　in　spirit　（_wohlgemuth_）；　spend　much　of　his　time　in　fiddling？　　Foolish　Wordmonger　and　Motive…grinder；　who　in　thy　Logic…mill　hast　an　earthly　mechanism　for　the　Godlike　itself；　and　wouldst　fain　grind　me　out　Virtue　from　the　husks　of　Pleasure；I　tell　thee；　Nay！　　To　the　unregenerate　Prometheus　Vinctus　of　a　man；　it　is　ever　the　bitterest　aggravation　of　his　wretchedness　that　he　is　conscious　of　Virtue；　that　he　feels　himself　the　victim　not　of　suffering　only；　but　of　injustice。　　What　then？　　Is　the　heroic　inspiration　we　name　Virtue　but　some　Passion；　some　bubble　of　the　blood；　bubbling　in　the　direction　others　_profit_　by？　　I　know　not：　　only　this　I　know；　If　what　thou　namest　Happiness　be　our　true　aim；　then　are　we　all　astray。　　With　Stupidity　and　sound　Digestion　man　may　front　much。　But　what；　in　these　dull　unimaginative　days；　are　the　terrors　of　Conscience　to　the　diseases　of　the　Liver！　　Not　on　Morality；　but　on　Cookery；　let　us　build　our　stronghold：　　there　brandishing　our　frying…pan；　as　censer；　let　us　offer　sweet　incense　to　the　Devil；　and　live　at　ease　on　the　fat　things　he　has　provided　for　his　Elect！〃

Thus　has　the　bewildered　Wanderer　to　stand；　as　so　many　have　done；　shouting　question　after　question　into　the　Sibyl…cave　of　Destiny；　and　receive　no　Answer　but　an　Echo。　　It　is　all　a　grim　Desert；　this　once…fair　world　of　his；　wherein　is　heard　only　the　howling　of　wild　beasts；　or　the　shrieks　of　despairing；　hate…filled　men；　and　no　Pillar　of　Cloud　by　day；　and　no　Pillar　of　Fire　by　night；　any　longer　guides　the　Pilgrim。　　To　such　length　has　the　spirit　of　Inquiry　carried　him。　　〃But　what　boots　it　（_was　thut's_）？〃　cries　he：　　〃it　is　but　the　common　lot　in　this　era。　　Not　having　come　to　spiritual　majority　prior　to　the　_Siecle　de　Louis　Quinze_；　and　not　being　born　purely　a　Loghead　（_Dummkopf_　）；　thou　hadst　no　other　outlook。　　The　whole　world　is；　like　thee；　sold　to　Unbelief；　their　old　Temples　of　the　Godhead；　which　for　long　have　not　been　rain…proof；　crumble　down；　and　men　ask　now：　　Where　is　the　Godhead；　our　eyes　never　saw　him？〃

Pitiful　enough　were　it；　for　all　these　wild　utterances；　to　call　our　Diogenes　wicked。　　Unprofitable　servants　as　we　all　are；　perhaps　at　no　era　of　his　life　was　he　more　decisively　the　Servant　of　Goodness；　the　Servant　of　God；　than　even　now　when　doubting　God's　existence。　　〃One　circumstance　I　note；〃　says　he：　　〃after　all　the　nameless　woe　that　Inquiry；　which　for　me；　what　it　is　not　always；　was　genuine　Love　of　Truth；　had　wrought　me！　　I　nevertheless　still　loved　Truth；　and　would　bate　no　jot　of　my　allegiance　to　her。　　'Truth！'　I　cried；　'though　the　Heavens　crush　me　for　following　her：　　no　Falsehood！　though　a　whole　celestial　Lubberland　were　the　price　of　Apostasy。'　　In　conduct　it　was　the　same。　　Had　a　divine　Messenger　from　the　clouds；　or　miraculous　Handwriting　on　the　wall；　convincingly　proclaimed　to　me　_This　thou　shalt　do_；　with　what　passionate　readiness；　as　I　often　thought；　would　I　have　done　it；　had　it　been　leaping　into　the　infernal　Fire。　　Thus；　in　spite　of　all　Motive…grinders；　and　Mechanical　Profit…and…Loss　Philosophies；　with　the　sick　ophthalmia　and　hallucination　they　had　brought　on；　was　the　Infinite　nature　of　Duty　still　dimly　present　to　me：　　living　without　God　in　the　world；　of　God's　light　I　was　not　utterly　bereft；　if　my　as　yet　sealed　eyes；　with　their　unspeakable　longing；　could　nowhere　see　Him；　nevertheless　in　my　heart　He　was　present；　and　His　heaven…written　Law　still　stood　legible　and　sacred　there。〃

Meanwhile；　under　all　these　tribulations；　and　temporal　and　spiritual　destitutions；　what　must　the　Wanderer；　in　his　silent　soul；　have　endured！　〃The　painfullest　feeling；〃　writes　he；　〃is　that　of　your　own　Feebleness　（_Unkraft_）；　ever；　as　the　English　Milton　says；　to　be　weak　is　the　true　misery。　　And　yet　of　your　Strength　there　is　and　can　be　no　clear　feeling；　save　by　what　you　have　prospered　in；　by　what　you　have　done。　　Between　vague　wavering　Capability　and　fixed　indubitable　Performance；　what　a　difference！　A　certain　inarticulate　Self…consciousness　dwells　dimly　in　us；　which　only　our　Works　can　render　articulate　and　decisively　discernible。　　Our　Works　are　the　mirror　wherein　the　spirit　first　sees　its　natural　lineaments。　　Hence；　too；　the　folly　of　that　impossible　Precept；　_Know　thyself_；　till　it　be　translated　into　this　partially　possible　one；　_Know　what　thou　canst　work　at_。

〃But　for　me；　so　strangely　unprosperous　had　I　been；　the　net…result　of　my　Workings　amounted　as　yet　simply　toNothing。　　How　then　could　I　believe　in　my　Strength；　when　there　was　as　yet　no　mirror　to　see　it　in？　　Ever　did　this　agitating；　yet；　as　I　now　perceive；　quite　frivolous　question；　remain　to　me　insoluble：　　Hast　thou　a　certain　Faculty；　a　certain　Worth；　such　even　as　the　most　have　not；　or　art　thou　the　completest　Dullard　of　these　modern　times？　Alas；　the　fearful　Unbelief　is　unbelief　in　yourself；　and　how　could　I　believe？　　Had　not　my　first；　last　Faith　in　myself；　when　even　to　me　the　Heavens　seemed　laid　open；　and　I　dared　to　love；　been　all　too　cruelly　belied？　The　speculative　Mystery　of　Life　grew　ever　more　mysterious　to　me：　　neither　in　the　practical　Mystery　had　I　made　the　slightest　progress；　but　been　everywhere　buffeted；　foiled；　and　contemptuously　cast　out。　　A　feeble　unit　in　the　middle　of　a　threatening　Infinitude；　I　seemed　to　have　nothing　given　me　but　eyes；　whereby　to　discern　my　own　wretchedness。　　Invisible　yet　impenetrable　walls；　as　of　Enchantment；　divided　me　from　all　living：　　was　there；　in　the　wide　world；　any　true　bosom　I　could　press　trustfully　to　mine？　O　Heaven；　No；　there　was　none！　　I　kept　a　lock　upon　my　lips：　　why　should　I　speak　much　with　that　shifting　variety　of　so…called　Friends；　in　whose　withered；　vain　and　too…hungry　souls　Friendship　was　but　an　incredible　tradition？　　In　such　cases；　your　resource　is　to　talk　little；　and　that　little　mostly　from　the　Newspapers。　　Now　when　I　look　back；　it　was　a　strange　isolation　I　then　lived　in。　　The　men　and　women　around　me；　even　speaking　with　me；　were　but　Figures；　I　had；　practically；　forgotten　that　they　were　alive；　that　they　were　not　merely　automatic。　　In　the　midst　of　their　crowded　streets　and　assemblages；　I　walked　solitary；　and　（except　as　it　was　my　own　heart；　not　another's；　that　I　kept　devouring）　savage　also；　as　the　tiger　in　his　jungle。　Some　comfort　it　would　have　been；　could　I；　like　a　Faust；　have　fancied　myself　tempted　and　tormented　of　the　Devil；　for　a　Hell；　as　I　imagine；　without　Life；　though　only　diabolic　Life；　were　more　frightful：　　but　in　our　age　of　Down…pulling　and　Disbelief；　the　very　Devil　has　been　pulled　down；　you　cannot　so　much　as　believe　in　a　Devil。　　To　me　the　Universe　was　all　void　of　Life；　of　Purpose；　of　Volition；　even　of　Hostility：　　it　was　one　huge；　dead；　immeasurable　Steam…engine；　rolling　on；　in　its　dead　indifference；　to　grind　me　limb　from　limb。　　Oh；　the　vast；　gloomy；　solitary　Golgotha；　and　Mill　of　Death！　　Why　was　the　Living　banished　thither　companionless；　conscious？　　Why；　if　there　is　no　Devil；　nay；　unless　the　Devil　is　your　God？〃

A　prey　incessantly　to　such　corrosions；　might　not；　moreover；　as　the　worst　aggravation　to　them；　the　iron　constitution　even　of　a　Teufelsdrockh　threaten　to　fail？　　We　conjecture　that　he　has　known　sickness；　and；　in　spite　of　his　locomotive　habits；　perhaps　sickness　of　the　chronic　sort。　　Hear　this；　for　example：　　〃How　beautiful　to　die　of　broken…heart；　on　Paper！　　Quite　another　thing　in　practice；　every　window　of　your　Feeling；　even　of　your　Intellect；　as　it　were；　begrimed　and　mud…bespattered；　so　that　no　pure　ray　can　enter；　a　whole　Drug…shop　in　your　inwards；　the　fordone　soul　drowning　slowly　in　quagmires　of　Disgust！〃

Putting　all　which　external　and　internal　miseries　together；　may　we　not　find　in　the　following　sentences；　quite　in　our　Professor's　still　vein；　significance　enough？　　〃From　Suicide　a　certain　after…shine　（_Nachschein_）　of　Christianity　withheld　me：　　perhaps　also　a　certain　indolence　of　character；　for；　was　not　that　a　remedy　I　had　at　any　time　within　reach？　　Often；　however；　was　there　a　question　present　to　me：　　Should　some　one　now；　at　the　turning　of　that　corner；　blow　thee　suddenly　out　of　Space；　into　the　other　World；　or　other　No…world；　by　pistol…shot；how　were　it？　　On　which　ground；　too；　I　have　often；　in　sea…storms　and　sieged　cities　and　other　death…scenes；　exhibited　an　imperturbability；　which　passed；　falsely　enough；　for　courage。〃

〃So　had　it　lasted；〃　concludes　the　Wanderer；　〃so　had　it　lasted；　as　in　bitter　protracted　Death…agony；　through　long　years。　　The　heart　within　me；　unvisited