贝壳电子书 > 英文原著电子书 > sartor resartus >

第52章

sartor resartus-第52章

小说: sartor resartus 字数: 每页4000字

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!



d…revealing Miracle lies in this; that I can stretch forth my hand at all; that I have free Force to clutch aught therewith?  Innumerable other of this sort are the deceptions; and wonder…hiding stupefactions; which Space practices on us。

〃Still worse is it with regard to Time。  Your grand anti…magician; and universal wonder…hider; is this same lying Time。  Had we but the Time…annihilating Hat; to put on for once only; we should see ourselves in a World of Miracles; wherein all fabled or authentic Thaumaturgy; and feats of Magic; were outdone。  But unhappily we have not such a Hat; and man; poor fool that he is; can seldom and scantily help himself without one。

〃Were it not wonderful; for instance; had Orpheus; or Amphion; built the walls of Thebes by the mere sound of his Lyre?  Yet tell me; Who built these walls of Weissnichtwo; summoning out all the sandstone rocks; to dance along from the _Steinbruch_ (now a huge Troglodyte Chasm; with frightful green…mantled pools); and shape themselves into Doric and Ionic pillars; squared ashlar houses and noble streets?  Was it not the still higher Orpheus; or Orpheuses; who; in past centuries; by the divine Music of Wisdom; succeeded in civilizing Man?  Our highest Orpheus walked in Judea; eighteen hundred years ago:  his sphere…melody; flowing in wild native tones; took captive the ravished souls of men; and; being of a truth sphere…melody; still flows and sounds; though now with thousand…fold accompaniments; and rich symphonies; through all our hearts; and modulates; and divinely leads them。  Is that a wonder; which happens in two hours; and does it cease to be wonderful if happening in two million?  Not only was Thebes built by the music of an Orpheus; but without the music of some inspired Orpheus was no city ever built; no work that man glories in ever done。

〃Sweep away the Illusion of Time; glance; if thou have eyes; from the near moving…cause to its far distant Mover:  The stroke that came transmitted through a whole galaxy of elastic balls; was it less a stroke than if the last ball only had been struck; and sent flying?  Oh; could I (with the Time…annihilating Hat) transport thee direct from the Beginnings; to the Endings; how were thy eyesight unsealed; and thy heart set flaming in the Light…sea of celestial wonder!  Then sawest thou that this fair Universe; were it in the meanest province thereof; is in very deed the star…domed City of God; that through every star; through every grass…blade; and most through every Living Soul; the glory of a present God still beams。  But Nature; which is the Time…vesture of God; and reveals Him to the wise; hides Him from the foolish。

〃Again; could anything be more miraculous than an actual authentic Ghost? The English Johnson longed; all his life; to see one; but could not; though he went to Cock Lane; and thence to the church…vaults; and tapped on coffins。  Foolish Doctor!  Did he never; with the mind's eye as well as with the body's; look round him into that full tide of human Life he so loved; did he never so much as look into Himself?  The good Doctor was a Ghost; as actual and authentic as heart could wish; well…nigh a million of Ghosts were travelling the streets by his side。  Once more I say; sweep away the illusion of Time; compress the threescore years into three minutes:  what else was he; what else are we?  Are we not Spirits; that are shaped into a body; into an Appearance; and that fade away again into air and Invisibility?  This is no metaphor; it is a simple scientific _fact_: we start out of Nothingness; take figure; and are Apparitions; round us; as round the veriest spectre; is Eternity; and to Eternity minutes are as years and aeons。  Come there not tones of Love and Faith; as from celestial harp…strings; like the Song of beatified Souls?  And again; do not we squeak and gibber (in our discordant; screech…owlish debatings and recriminatings); and glide bodeful; and feeble; and fearful; or uproar (_poltern_); and revel in our mad Dance of the Dead;till the scent of the morning air summons us to our still Home; and dreamy Night becomes awake and Day?  Where now is Alexander of Macedon:  does the steel Host; that yelled in fierce battle…shouts at Issus and Arbela; remain behind him; or have they all vanished utterly; even as perturbed Goblins must?  Napoleon too; and his Moscow Retreats and Austerlitz Campaigns!  Was it all other than the veriest Spectre…hunt; which has now; with its howling tumult that made Night hideous; flitted away? Ghosts!  There are nigh a thousand million walking the Earth openly at noontide; some half…hundred have vanished from it; some half…hundred have arisen in it; ere thy watch ticks once。

〃O Heaven; it is mysterious; it is awful to consider that we not only carry each a future Ghost within him; but are; in very deed; Ghosts!  These Limbs; whence had we them; this stormy Force; this life…blood with its burning Passion?  They are dust and shadow; a Shadow…system gathered round our ME:  wherein; through some moments or years; the Divine Essence is to be revealed in the Flesh。  That warrior on his strong war…horse; fire flashes through his eyes; force dwells in his arm and heart:  but warrior and war…horse are a vision; a revealed Force; nothing more。  Stately they tread the Earth; as if it were a firm substance:  fool! the Earth is but a film; it cracks in twain; and warrior and war…horse sink beyond plummet's sounding。  Plummet's?  Fantasy herself will not follow them。  A little while ago; they were not; a little while; and they are not; their very ashes are not。

〃So has it been from the beginning; so will it be to the end。  Generation after generation takes to itself the Form of a Body; and forth issuing from Cimmerian Night; on Heaven's mission APPEARS。  What Force and Fire is in each he expends:  one grinding in the mill of Industry; one hunter…like climbing the giddy Alpine heights of Science; one madly dashed in pieces on the rocks of Strife; in war with his fellow:and then the Heaven…sent is recalled; his earthly Vesture falls away; and soon even to Sense becomes a vanished Shadow。  Thus; like some wild…flaming; wild…thundering train of Heaven's Artillery; does this mysterious MANKIND thunder and flame; in long…drawn; quick…succeeding grandeur; through the unknown Deep。  Thus; like a God…created; fire…breathing Spirit…host; we emerge from the Inane; haste stormfully across the astonished Earth; then plunge again into the Inane。  Earth's mountains are levelled; and her seas filled up; in our passage:  can the Earth; which is but dead and a vision; resist Spirits which have reality and are alive?  On the hardest adamant some footprint of us is stamped in; the last Rear of the host will read traces of the earliest Van。  But whence?O Heaven whither?  Sense knows not; Faith knows not; only that it is through Mystery to Mystery; from God and to God。

                        'We _are such stuff_      As Dreams are made of; and our little Life      Is rounded with a sleep!'〃


CHAPTER IX。 CIRCUMSPECTIVE。

Here; then; arises the so momentous question:  Have many British Readers actually arrived with us at the new promised country; is the Philosophy of Clothes now at last opening around them?  Long and adventurous has the journey been:  from those outmost vulgar; palpable Woollen Hulls of Man; through his wondrous Flesh…Garments; and his wondrous Social Garnitures; inwards to the Garments of his very Soul's Soul; to Time and Space themselves!  And now does the spiritual; eternal Essence of Man; and of Mankind; bared of such wrappages; begin in any measure to reveal itself? Can many readers discern; as through a glass darkly; in huge wavering outlines; some primeval rudiments of Man's Being; what is changeable divided from what is unchangeable?  Does that Earth…Spirit's speech in _Faust_;

     〃'Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply;      And weave for God the Garment thou seest Him by; 〃

or that other thousand…times repeated speech of the Magician; Shakespeare;

     〃And like the baseless fabric of this vision;      The cloud…capt Towers; the gorgeous Palaces;      The solemn Temples; the great Globe itself;      And all which it inherit; shall dissolve;      And like t

返回目录 上一页 下一页 回到顶部 0 0

你可能喜欢的