the unknown guest(陌生客)-第44节
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palingenesist or what he will； should lose himself in those wild and
troubled eddies and that the truth or message which he brings us； tossed
and tumbled in every direction； should reach us broken； shattered and
pulverized beyond recognition。
For the rest； I repeat； were it not for the absurd prominence given to
our dead in the spiritualistic interpretation； this question of origin would
have little importance； since both life and death are incessantly joining and
uniting in all things。 There are assuredly dead people in all these
manifestations； seeing that we are full of dead people and that the greater
part of ourselves is at this moment steeped in death； that is to say； is
already living the boundless life that awaits us on the farther side of the
grave。
8
We should be wrong； however； to fix all our attention on these
extraordinary phenomena； either those with which we unduly connect the
deceased or those no less striking ones in which we do not believe that
they take part。 They are evidently precious points of emergence that
enable us approximately to mark the extent； the forms and the habits of
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our mystery。 But it is within ourselves； in the silence of the darkness of our
being； where it is ever in motion； guiding our destiny； that we should strive
to surprise that mystery and to discover it。 And I am not speaking only of
the dreams； the presumptions； the vague intuitions； the room or less
brilliant inspirations which are so many more manifestations； specific as it
were and analogous with those that have occupied us。 There is another； a
more secret and much more active existence which we have scarcely
begun to study and which is； if we descend to the bed…rock of truth； our
only real existence。 From the darkest corners of our ego it directs our
veritable life； the one that is not to die； and pays no heed to our thought or
to anything emanating from our reason； which believes that it guides nor
steps。 It alone knows the long past that preceded our birth and the endless
future that will follow our departure from this earth。 It is itself that future
and that past； all those from whom we have sprung and all those who will
spring from us。 It represents the individual not only the species but that
which preceded it and that which will follow it； and it has neither
beginning nor end： that is why nothing touches it； nothing moves it which
does not concern that which it represents。 When a misfortune or a joy
befall us； it knows their value instantly； knows if they are going to open or
to dose the wells of life。 It is the one thing that is never wrong。 In vain
does reason demonstrate to it； by irresistible arguments； that it is
hopelessly at fault： silent under its immovable mask； whose expression we
have not yet been able to react it pursues its way。 It treats us as
insignificant children； void of understanding； never answers our objections；
refuses what we ask and lavishes upon us that which we refuse。 If we go to
the right； it reconducts us to the left。 If we cultivate this or that faculty
which we think that we possess or which we would like to possess； it hides
it under some other which we did not expect and did not wish for。 It saves
us from a danger by imparting to our limbs unforeseen and unerring
movements and actions which they had never made before and which are
contrary to those which they had been taught to make： it knows that the
hour has not yet come when it will be useless to defend ourselves。 It
chooses our love in spite of the revolt of our intelligence or of our poor；
ephemeral heart。 It smiles when we are frightened and sometimes it is
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frightened when we smile。 And it is always the winner； humiliating our
reason； crushing our wisdom and silencing arguments and passions alike
with the contemptuous hand of destiny。 The greatest doctors surround our
sick…bed and deceive themselves and us in foretelling our death or our
recovery： it alone whispers in our car the truth that will not be denied。 A
thousand apparently mortal blows fall upon our head and not a lash of its
eyelids quivers； but suddenly a tiny shock； which our senses had not even
transmitted to our brain； wakes it with a start。 It sits up； looks around and
understands。 It has seen the crack in the vault that separates the two lives。
It gives the signal for departure。 Forthwith panic spreads from cell to cell；
and the innumerous city that we are utters yells of horror and distress and
hustles around the gates of death。
9
That great figure； that new being has been there； in our darkness； from
all time； though its awkward and extravagant actions； until recently
attributed to the gods； the demons or the dead； am only now asking for our
serious attention。 It has been likened to an immense block of which our
personality is but a diminutive facet； to an iceberg of which we see a few
glistening prisms that represent our life； while nine…tenths of the enormous
mass remain buried in the shadows of the sea。 According to Sir Oliver
Lodge； it is that part of our being that has not become carnate； according
to Gustave Le Bon； it is the 〃condensed〃 soul of our ancestors； which is
true； beyond a doubt； but only a part of the truth； for we find in it also the
soul of the future and probably of many other forces which are not
necessarily human。 William James saw in it a diffuse cosmic
consciousness and the chance intrusion into our scientifically organized
world of remnants and bestiges of the primordial chaos。 Here are a number
of images striving to give us an idea of a reality so vast that we are unable
to grasp it。 It is certain that what we see from our terrestrial life is nothing
compared with what we do not see。 Besides； if we think of it； it would be
monstrous and inexplicable that we should be only what we appear to be；
nothing but ourselves； whole and complete in ourselves； separated；
isolated； circumscribed by our body； our mind； our consciousness； our
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birth and our death。 We become possible and probable only on the
conditions that we project beyond ourselves on every side and that we
stretch in every direction throughout time and space。
10
But how shall we explain the incredible contrast between the
immeasurable grandeur of our unknown guest； the assurance； the calmness；
the gravity of the inner life which it leads in us and the puerile and
sometimes grotesque incongruities of what one might call its public
existence？ Inside us； it is the sovereign judge； the supreme arbiter； the
prophet； almost the god omnipotent； outside us； from the moment that it
quits its shelter and manifests itself in external actions； it is nothing more
than a fortune…teller； a bone…setter； a sort of facetious conjuror or
telephone…operator； I was on the verge of saying a mountebank or clown。
At what particular instant is it really itself？ Is it seized with giddiness
when it leaves its lair？ Is it we who no longer hear it； who no longer
understand it； as soon as it ceases to speak in a whisper and to act in the
dark recesses of our life？ Are we in regard to it the terrified hive invaded
by a huge and inexplicable hand； the maddened ant…hill trampled by a
colossal and incomprehensible foot？ Let us not venture yet to solve the
strange riddle with the aid of the little that we know。 Let us confine
ourselv
