the procession of life-第4章
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attempt no more than merely to associate in one fraternity all
who are afflicted with the same vague trouble。 Some great mistake
in life is the chief condition of admittance into this class。
Here are members of the learned professions; whom Providence
endowed with special gifts for the plough; the forge; and the
wheelbarrow; or for the routine of unintellectual business。 We
will assign to them; as partners in the march; those lowly
laborers and handicraftsmen; who have pined; as with a dying
thirst; after the unattainable fountains of knowledge。 The latter
have lost less than their companions; yet more; because they deem
it infinite。 Perchance the two species of unfortunates may
comfort one another。 Here are Quakers with the instinct of battle
in them; and men of war who should have worn the broad brim。
Authors shall be ranked here whom some freak of Nature; making
game of her poor children; had imbued with the confidence of
genius and strong desire of fame; but has favored with no
corresponding power; and others; whose lofty gifts were
unaccompanied with the faculty of expression; or any of that
earthly machinery by which ethereal endowments must be manifested
to mankind。 All these; therefore; are melancholy laughing…stocks。
Next; here are honest and well intentioned persons; who by a want
of tactby inaccurate perceptionsby a distorting
imaginationhave been kept continually at cross purposes with
the world and bewildered upon the path of life。 Let us see if
they can confine themselves within the line of our procession。 In
this class; likewise; we must assign places to those who have
encountered that worst of ill success; a higher fortune than
their abilities could vindicate; writers; actors; painters; the
pets of a day; but whose laurels wither unrenewed amid their
hoary hair; politicians; whom some malicious contingency of
affairs has thrust into conspicuous station; where; while the
world stands gazing at them; the dreary consciousness of
imbecility makes them curse their birth hour。 To such men; we
give for a companion him whose rare talents; which perhaps
require a Revolution for their exercise; are buried in the tomb
of sluggish circumstances。
Not far from these; we must find room for one whose success has
been of the wrong kind; the man who should have lingered in the
cloisters of a university; digging new treasures out of the
Herculaneum of antique lore; diffusing depth and accuracy of
literature throughout his country; and thus making for himself a
great and quiet fame。 But the outward tendencies around him have
proved too powerful for his inward nature; and have drawn him
into the arena of political tumult; there to contend at
disadvantage; whether front to front; or side by side; with the
brawny giants of actual life。 He becomes; it may be; a name for
brawling parties to bandy to and fro; a legislator of the Union;
a governor of his native state; an ambassador to the courts of
kings or queens; and the world may deem him a man of happy stars。
But not so the wise; and not so himself; when he looks through
his experience; and sighs to miss that fitness; the one
invaluable touch which makes all things true and real。 So much
achieved; yet how abortive is his life! Whom shall we choose for
his companion? Some weak framed blacksmith; perhaps; whose
delicacy of muscle might have suited a tailor's shopboard better
than the anvil。
Shall we bid the trumpet sound again? It is hardly worth the
while。 There remain a few idle men of fortune; tavern and
grog…shop loungers; lazzaroni; old bachelors; decaying maidens;
and people of crooked intellect or temper; all of whom may find
their like; or some tolerable approach to it; in the plentiful
diversity of our latter class。 There too; as his ultimate
destiny; must we rank the dreamer; who; all his life long; has
cherished the idea that he was peculiarly apt for something; but
never could determine what it was; and there the most unfortunate
of men; whose purpose it has been to enjoy life's pleasures; but
to avoid a manful struggle with its toil and sorrow。 The
remainder; if any; may connect themselves with whatever rank of
the procession they shall find best adapted to their tastes and
consciences。 The worst possible fate would be to remain behind;
shivering in the solitude of time; while all the world is on the
move towards eternity。 Our attempt to classify society is now
complete。 The result may be anything but perfect; yet betterto
give it the very lowest praisethan the antique rule of the
herald's office; or the modern one of the tax…gatherer; whereby
the accidents and superficial attributes with which the real
nature of individuals has least to do; are acted upon as the
deepest characteristics of mankind。 Our task is done! Now let the
grand procession move!
Yet pause a while! We had forgotten the Chief Marshal。
Hark! That world…wide swell of solemn music; with the clang of a
mighty bell breaking forth through its regulated uproar;
announces his approach。 He comes; a severe; sedate; immovable;
dark rider; waving his truncheon of universal sway; as he passes
along the lengthened line; on the pale horse of the Revelation。
It is Death! Who else could assume the guidance of a procession
that comprehends all humanity? And if some; among these many
millions; should deem themselves classed amiss; yet let them take
to their hearts the comfortable truth that Death levels us all
into one great brotherhood; and that another state of being will
surely rectify the wrong of this。 Then breathe thy wail upon the
earth's wailing wind; thou band of melancholy music; made up of
every sigh that the human heart; unsatisfied; has uttered! There
is yet triumph in thy tones。 And now we move! Beggars in their
rags; and Kings trailing the regal purple in the dust; the
Warrior's gleaming helmet; the Priest in his sable robe; the
hoary Grandsire; who has run life's circle and come back to
childhood; the ruddy School…boy with his golden curls; frisking
along the march; the Artisan's stuff jacket; the Noble's
star…decorated coat;the whole presenting a motley spectacle;
yet with a dusky grandeur brooding over it。 Onward; onward; into
that dimness where the lights of Time which have blazed along the
procession; are flickering in their sockets! And whither! We know
not; and Death; hitherto our leader; deserts us by the wayside;
as the tramp of our innumerable footsteps echoes beyond his
sphere。 He knows not; more than we; our destined goal。 But God;
who made us; knows; and will not leave us on our toilsome and
doubtful march; either to wander in infinite uncertainty; or
perish by the way!