It was reasonable that I should find the day gray.
Study and study and study, year on year, and at last image a great thing, just under the rim4 of the mind's ocean, sending up for those who will look streamers above horizon, streamers of colored and wonderful light! Study and reason and with awe5 and delight take light from above. Dream of good news for one and all, of life given depth and brought into music, dream of giving the given, never holding it back, which would be avarice6 and betraying! Write, and give men and women to read what you have written, and believe—poor Deluded7!—that they also feel inner warmth and light and rejoice.
Oh, gray the sea and gray the shore!
But some did feel it.
The Dominican, when it fell into his hands, called it perdition. A Jewess for grandmother, and Don Pedro for enemy. And now the Dominican—the Dominicans!
The Queen and the King made edict against the Jews, and there sat the Inquisition.
I was—I am—Christian. It is a wide and deep and high word. When you ask, "What is it—Christian?" then must each of us answer as it is given to him to answer. I and thou—and the True, the Universal Christ give us light!
To-day all Andalusia, all Castile and all Spain to me seemed gray, and gray the utter Ocean that stretched no man knew where. The gray was the gray of fetters8 and of ashes.
The tide made, and as the waves came nearer, eating the sand before me, they uttered a low crying. In danger—danger—in danger, Jayme de Marchena!
I had been in danger before. Who is not often and always in danger, in life? But this was a danger to daunt9.
Mine were no powerful friends. I had only that which was within me. I was only son of only son, and my parents and grandparents were dead, and my distant kindred cold, seeing naught10 of good in so much study and thinking of that old, dark, beautiful, questionable11 one, my grandmother. I had indeed a remote kinsman12, head of a convent in this neighborhood, and he was a wise man and a kindly13. But not he either could do aught here!
All the Jews to be banished14, and Don Pedro with a steady forefinger15, "That man—take him, too! Who does not know that his grandmother was Jewess, and that he lived with her and drank poison?" But the Dominican, "No! The Holy Office will take him. You have but to read—only you must not read—what he has written to see why!"
Gray Ocean, stretching endlessly and now coming close, were it not well if I drowned myself this gray morning while I can choose the death I shall die? Now the great murmur16 sang Well, and now it sang Not well.
Low cliff and heaped sand and a solitary17 bird wide-winging toward the mountains of Portugal, and the Ocean gray-blue and salt! The salt savor18 entered me, and an inner zest19 came forward and said No, to being craven. In banishment20 certainly, in the House of the Inquisition more doubtfully, the immortal21 man might yet find market from which to buy! If the mind could surmount22, the eternal quest need not be interrupted—even there!
Blue Ocean sang to me.
A vision—it came to me at times, vision—set itself in air. I saw A People who persecuted23 neither Jew nor thinker. It rose one Figure, formed of an infinite number of small figures, but all their edges met in one glow. The figure stood upon the sea and held apart the clouds, and was free and fair and mighty24, and was man and woman melted together, and it took all colors and made of them a sun for its brow. I did not know when it would live, but I knew that it should live. Perhaps it was the whole world.
It vanished, leaving sky and ocean and Andalusia. But great visions leave great peace. After it, for this day, it seemed not worth while to grieve and miserably26 to forebode. Through the hours that I lay there by the sea, airs from that land or that earth blew about me and faint songs visited my ears, and the gray day was only gray like a dove's breast.
Jayme de Marchena stayed by the lonely sea because that seemed the safest place to stay. At hand was the small port of Palos that might not know what was breeding in Seville, and going thither27 at nightfall I found lodging28 and supper in a still corner where all night I heard the Tinto flowing by.
I had wandered to Palos because of the Franciscan convent of Santa Maria de la Rabida and my very distant kins-man, Fray29 Juan Perez. The day after the gray day by the shore I walked half a league of sandy road and came to convent gate. The porter let me in, and I waited in a little court with doves about me and a swinging bell above until the brother whom he had called returned and took me to Prior's room. At first Fray Juan Perez was stiff and cold, but by littles this changed and he became a good man, large-minded and with a sense for kindred. Clearly he thought that I should not have had a Jewish grandmother, nor have lived with her from my third to my tenth birthday, and most clearly that I should not have written that which I had written. But his God was an energetic, enterprising, kindly Prince, rather bold himself and tolerant of heathen. Fray Juan Perez even intimated a doubt if God wanted the Inquisition. "But that's going rather far!" he said hastily and sat drumming the table and pursing his lips. Presently he brought out, "But you know I can't do anything!"
I did know it. What could he do? I suppose I had had a half-hope of something. I knew not what. Without a hope I would not have come to La Rabida. But it was maimed from the first, and now it died. I made a gesture of relinquishment30. "No, I suppose you cannot—"
He said after a moment that he was glad to see that I had let my beard grow and was very plainly dressed, though I had never been elaborate there, and especially was he glad that I was come to Palos not as Jayme de Marchena, but under a plain and simple name, Juan Lepe, to wit. His advice was to flee from the wrath31 to come. He would not say flee from the Holy Office—that would be heinous32!—but he would say absent myself, abscond33, be banished, Jayme de Marchena by Jayme de Marchena. There were barques in Palos and rude seamen34 who asked no question when gold just enough, and never more than enough, was shown. He hesitated a moment and then asked if I had funds. If not—
I thanked him and said that I had made provision.
"Then," said he, "go to Barbary, Don Jayme! An intelligent and prudent35 man may prosper36 at Ercilla or at Fez. If you must study, study there."
"You also study," I said.
"In fair trodden highways—never in thick forest and mere37 fog!" he answered. "Now if you were like one who has been here and is now before Granada, at Santa Fe, sent for thither by the Queen! That one hath indeed studied to benefit Spain—Spain, Christendom, and the world!"
I asked who was that great one, but before he could tell me came interruption. A visitor entered, a strong-lipped, bold-eyed man named Martin Pinzon. I was to meet him again and often, but at this time I did not know that. Fray Juan Perez evidently desiring that I should go, I thought it right to oblige him who would have done me kindness had he known how. I went without intimate word of parting and after only a casual stare from Martin Pinzon.
But without, my kinsman came after me. "I want to say, Don Jayme, that if I am asked for testimony38 I shall hold to it that you are as good Christian as any—"
It was kinsman's part and all that truly I could have hoped for, and I told him so. About us was quiet, vacant cloister39, and we parted more warmly than we had done within.
The white convent of La Rabida is set on a headland among vineyards and pine trees. It regards the ocean and, afar, the mountains of Portugal, and below it runs a small river, going out to sea through sands with the Tinto and the Odiel. Again the day was gray and the pine trees sighing. The porter let me out at gate.
I walked back toward Palos through the sandy ways. I did not wish to go to Africa.
It is my belief that that larger Self whom they will call protecting Saint or heavenly Guardian40 takes hand in affairs oftener than we think! Leaving the Palos road, I went to the sea as I had done yesterday and again sat under heaped sand with about me a sere41 grass through which the wind whined42. At first it whined and then it sang in a thin, outlandish voice. Sitting thus, I might have looked toward Africa, but I knew now that I was not going to Africa. Often, perhaps, in the unremembered past I had been in Africa; often, doubtless, in ages to come its soil would be under my foot, but now I was not going there! To-day I looked westward43 over River-Ocean, unknown to our fathers and unknown to ourselves. It was unknown as the future of the world.
Ocean piled before me. From where I lay it seemed to run uphill to one pale line, nor blue nor white, set beneath the solid gray. Over that hilltop, what? Only other hills and plains, water, endlessly water, until the waves, so much mightier44 than waves of that blue sea we knew best, should beat at last against Asia shore! So high, so deep, so vast, so real, yet so empty-seeming save for strange dangers! No sails over the hilltop; no sails in all that Vast save close at hand where mariners45 held to the skirts of Mother. Europe. Ocean vast, Ocean black, Ocean unknown. Yet there, too, life and the knowing of life ran somehow continuous.
It wiled46 me from my smaller self. How had we all suffered, we the whole earth! But we were moving, we the world with none left out, moving toward That which held worlds, which was conscious above worlds. Long the journey, long the adventure, but it was not worth while fearing, it was not worth while whining47! I was not alone Jayme de Marchena, nor Juan Lepe, nor this name nor that nor the other.
There was now a great space of quiet in my mind. Suddenly formed there the face and figure of Don Enrique de Cerda whose life I had had the good hap25 to save. He was far away with the Queen and King who beleaguered48 Granada. I had not seen him for ten years. A moment before he had rested among the host of figures in the unevenly49 lighted land of memory. Now he stood forth50 plainly and seemed to smile.
I took the leading. With the inner eye I have seen lines of light like subtle shining cords running between persons. Such a thread stretched now between me and Enrique de Cerda. I determined51 to make my way, as Juan Lepe, through the mountains and over the plain of Granada to Santa Fe.
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1
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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3
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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7
deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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9
daunt
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| vt.使胆怯，使气馁 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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12
kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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13
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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14
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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16
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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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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savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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banishment
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| n.放逐，驱逐 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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surmount
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| vt.克服；置于…顶上 | |
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persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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24
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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hap
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| n.运气；v.偶然发生 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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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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28
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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29
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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30
relinquishment
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| n.放弃；撤回；停止 | |
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31
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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32
heinous
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| adj.可憎的，十恶不赦的 | |
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33
abscond
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| v.潜逃，逃亡 | |
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34
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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35
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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37
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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38
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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39
cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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40
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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41
sere
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| adj.干枯的；n.演替系列 | |
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42
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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43
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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44
mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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45
mariners
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| 海员，水手（mariner的复数形式） | |
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46
wiled
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| v.引诱( wile的过去式和过去分词 )；诱惑；消遣；消磨 | |
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47
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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48
beleaguered
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| adj.受到围困[围攻]的；包围的v.围攻( beleaguer的过去式和过去分词)；困扰；骚扰 | |
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49
unevenly
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| adv.不均匀的 | |
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50
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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51
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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