Such transitions are ever full of pain: thus the Eagle when he moults is sickly; and, to attain4 his new beak5, must harshly dash off the old one upon rocks. What Stoicism soever our Wanderer, in his individual acts and motions, may affect, it is clear that there is a hot fever of anarchy6 and misery7 raging within; coruscations of which flash out: as, indeed, how could there be other? Have we not seen him disappointed, bemocked of Destiny, through long years? All that the young heart might desire and pray for has been denied; nay9, as in the last worst instance, offered and then snatched away. Ever an “excellent Passivity;” but of useful, reasonable Activity, essential to the former as Food to Hunger, nothing granted: till at length, in this wild Pilgrimage, he must forcibly seize for himself an Activity, though useless, unreasonable10. Alas11, his cup of bitterness, which had been filling drop by drop, ever since that first “ruddy morning” in the Hinterschlag Gymnasium, was at the very lip; and then with that poison-drop, of the Towgood-and-Blumine business, it runs over, and even hisses12 over in a deluge13 of foam14.
He himself says once, with more justness than originality15: “Men is, properly speaking, based upon Hope, he has no other possession but Hope; this world of his is emphatically the Place of Hope.” What, then, was our Professor’s possession? We see him, for the present, quite shut out from Hope; looking not into the golden orient, but vaguely16 all round into a dim copper17 firmament18, pregnant with earthquake and tornado19.
Alas, shut out from Hope, in a deeper sense than we yet dream of! For, as he wanders wearisomely through this world, he has now lost all tidings of another and higher. Full of religion, or at least of religiosity, as our Friend has since exhibited himself, he hides not that, in those days, he was wholly irreligious: “Doubt had darkened into Unbelief,” says he; “shade after shade goes grimly over your soul, till you have the fixed20, starless, Tartarean black.” To such readers as have reflected, what can be called reflecting, on man’s life, and happily discovered, in contradiction to much Profit-and-Loss Philosophy, speculative21 and practical, that Soul is not synonymous with Stomach; who understand, therefore, in our Friend’s words, “that, for man’s well-being22, Faith is properly the one thing needful; how, with it, Martyrs23, otherwise weak, can cheerfully endure the shame and the cross; and without it, Worldlings puke up their sick existence, by suicide, in the midst of luxury:” 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 Destitution24, the stab of false Friendship and of false Love, all wounds in thy so genial25 heart, would have healed again, had not its life-warmth been withdrawn26. 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 seeing 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 Gallows27 and from Doctor Graham’s Celestial28–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, jocund29 in spirit (wohlgemuth), spend much of his time in fiddling30? Foolish Wordmonger and Motive-grinder, who in thy Logic-mill hast an earthly mechanism31 for the Godlike itself, and wouldst fain grind me out Virtue32 from the husks of Pleasure, — I tell thee, Nay! To the unregenerate Prometheus Vinctus of a man, it is ever the bitterest aggravation33 of his wretchedness that he is conscious of Virtue, that he feels himself the victim not of suffering only, but of injustice34. 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 Digestion36 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 brandishing37 our frying-pan, as censer, let us offer sweet incense38 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 shrieks39 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 Inquiry40 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 purely41 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, crumble42 down; and men ask now: Where is the Godhead; our eyes never saw him?”
Pitiful enough were it, for all these wild utterances43, 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 woe44 that Inquiry, which for me, what it is not always, was genuine Love of Truth, had wrought45 me! I nevertheless still loved Truth, and would bate46 no jot47 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 Apostasy48.’ In conduct it was the same. Had a divine Messenger from the clouds, or miraculous49 Handwriting on the wall, convincingly proclaimed to me This thou shalt do, with what passionate50 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 utterly51 bereft52; if my as yet sealed eyes, with their unspeakable longing53, 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 tribulations54, 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 prospered55 in, by what you have done. Between vague wavering Capability56 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 folly57 of that impossible Precept58, Know thyself; till it be translated into this partially59 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 to — Nothing. How then could I believe in my Strength, when there was as yet no mirror to see it in? Ever did this agitating60, yet, as I now perceive, quite frivolous61 question, remain to me insoluble: Hast thou a certain Faculty62, 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 belied63? 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 buffeted64, 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 Enchantment65, divided me from all living: was there, in the wide world, any true bosom66 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 withered67, 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 isolation68 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 solitary69; and (except as it was my own heart, not another’s, that I kept devouring70) savage71 also, as the tiger in his jungle. Some comfort it would have been, could I, like a Faust, have fancied myself tempted72 and tormented73 of the Devil; for a Hell, as I imagine, without Life, though only diabolic Life, were more frightful74: 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 Volition75, even of Hostility76: it was one huge, dead, immeasurable Steam-engine, rolling on, in its dead indifference77, to grind me limb from limb. Oh, the vast, gloomy, solitary Golgotha, and Mill of Death! Why was the Living banished78 thither79 companionless, conscious? Why, if there is no Devil; nay, unless the Devil is your God?”
A prey80 incessantly81 to such corrosions82, might not, moreover, as the worst aggravation to them, the iron constitution even of a Teufelsdrockh threaten to fail? We conjecture83 that he has known sickness; and, in spite of his locomotive habits, perhaps sickness of the chronic84 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 quagmires85 of Disgust!”
Putting all which external and internal miseries86 together, may we not find in the following sentences, quite in our Professor’s still vein87, significance enough? “From Suicide a certain after-shine (Nachschein) of Christianity withheld88 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 imperturbability89, which passed, falsely enough, for courage.”
“So had it lasted,” concludes the Wanderer, “so had it lasted, as in bitter protracted90 Death-agony, through long years. The heart within me, unvisited by any heavenly dew-drop, was smouldering in sulphurous, slow-consuming fire. Almost since earliest memory I had shed no tear; or once only when I, murmuring half-audibly, recited Faust’s Death-song, that wild Selig der den8 er im Siegesglanze findet (Happy whom he finds in Battle’s splendor), and thought that of this last Friend even I was not forsaken91, that Destiny itself could not doom92 me not to die. Having no hope, neither had I any definite fear, were it of Man or of Devil: nay, I often felt as if it might be solacing93, could the Arch–Devil himself, though in Tartarean terrors, but rise to me, that I might tell him a little of my mind. And yet, strangely enough, I lived in a continual, indefinite, pining fear; tremulous, pusillanimous94, apprehensive95 of I knew not what: it seemed as if all things in the Heavens above and the Earth beneath would hurt me; as if the Heavens and the Earth were but boundless96 jaws97 of a devouring monster, wherein I, palpitating, waited to be devoured98.
“Full of such humor, and perhaps the miserablest man in the whole French Capital or Suburbs, was I, one sultry Dog-day, after much perambulation, toiling99 along the dirty little Rue35 Saint–Thomas de l’Enfer, among civic100 rubbish enough, in a close atmosphere, and over pavements hot as Nebuchadnezzar’s Furnace; whereby doubtless my spirits were little cheered; when, all at once, there rose a Thought in me, and I asked myself: ‘What art thou afraid of? Wherefore, like a coward, dost thou forever pip and whimper, and go cowering101 and trembling? Despicable biped! what is the sum-total of the worst that lies before thee? Death? Well, Death; and say the pangs102 of Tophet too, and all that the Devil and Man may, will or can do against thee! Hast thou not a heart; canst thou not suffer whatsoever103 it be; and, as a Child of Freedom, though outcast, trample104 Tophet itself under thy feet, while it consumes thee? Let it come, then; I will meet it and defy it!’ And as I so thought, there rushed like a stream of fire over my whole soul; and I shook base Fear away from me forever. I was strong, of unknown strength; a spirit, almost a god. Ever from that time, the temper of my misery was changed: not Fear or whining105 Sorrow was it, but Indignation and grim fire-eyed Defiance106.
“Thus had the EVERLASTING107 NO (das ewige Nein) pealed108 authoritatively109 through all the recesses110 of my Being, of my ME; and then was it that my whole ME stood up, in native God-created majesty111, and with emphasis recorded its Protest. Such a Protest, the most important transaction in Life, may that same Indignation and Defiance, in a psychological point of view, be fitly called. The Everlasting No had said: ‘Behold, thou art fatherless, outcast, and the Universe is mine (the Devil’s);’ to which my whole Me now made answer: ‘I am not thine, but Free, and forever hate thee!’
“It is from this hour that I incline to date my Spiritual New-birth, or Baphometic Fire-baptism; perhaps I directly thereupon began to be a Man.”
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1
envelopment
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| n.包封，封套 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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anarchy
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| n.无政府状态；社会秩序混乱，无秩序 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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hisses
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| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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tornado
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| n.飓风，龙卷风 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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destitution
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| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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jocund
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| adj.快乐的，高兴的 | |
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fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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aggravation
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| n.烦恼，恼火 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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shrieks
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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utterances
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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bate
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| v.压制；减弱；n.（制革用的）软化剂 | |
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jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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apostasy
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| n.背教，脱党 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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tribulations
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| n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 )；艰难；苦难的缘由；痛苦 | |
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prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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capability
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| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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precept
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| n.戒律；格言 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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agitating
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| 搅动( agitate的现在分词 )； 激怒； 使焦虑不安； （尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而）激烈争论 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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belied
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| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
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buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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71
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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72
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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73
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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76
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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77
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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78
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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80
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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81
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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82
corrosions
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| n.腐蚀( corrosion的名词复数 )；受腐蚀的部位；腐蚀生成物如绣等；衰败 | |
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83
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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84
chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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85
quagmires
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| n.沼泽地，泥潭( quagmire的名词复数 ) | |
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86
miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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87
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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88
withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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89
imperturbability
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| n.冷静；沉着 | |
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90
protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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91
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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92
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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93
solacing
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| v.安慰，慰藉( solace的现在分词 ) | |
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94
pusillanimous
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| adj.懦弱的，胆怯的 | |
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95
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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96
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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97
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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98
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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99
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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100
civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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101
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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102
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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103
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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104
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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105
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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106
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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107
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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108
pealed
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
authoritatively
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| 命令式地，有权威地，可信地 | |
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110
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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111
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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