To Appearance, Trans-Susquehanna is peaceful enough,— Farm-houses, a School-house, a Road to York. At the third ten-minute segment of Arc, they calculate their probable error, change direction by an R.P.H. to the Northward1, and continue to their next stopping-place, which once again shall place them conveniently,— this time beside the great inland Road between York and Baltimore, more real than any imaginary Line any would run athwart it. The earth hereabouts is red, the tone of a new Brick Wall in the Shadow, due to a high ratio of iron,— and if till'd in exactly the right way, it becomes magnetized, too, so that at Harvest-time, 'tis necessary only to pass along the Rows any large Container of Iron, and the Vegetables will fly up out of the ground, and stick to it.
Ahead of them in the next ten minutes of Arc lie a dozen Streams falling into Gunpowder3 Creek4, which runs roughly parallel to the Visto, and about a mile south of it. The last of these Branches being close enough to another ten minutes West, upon crossing it, they need only calculate their error as before, and aim slightly north, so as to fall in again with their proper Latitude5, ten minutes west of that.. .in such easy Hops6 thro' the summer fields and the German cooking, do they progress, Susquehanna to the Allegheny Mountain. Some mornings they awake and can believe that they traverse an Eden, unbearably7 fair in the Dawn, squandering8 all its Beauty, day after day unseen, bearing them fruits, presenting them Game, bringing them a fugitive9 moment of Peace,— how, for days at a time, can they not, dizzy with it, believe themselves pass'd permanently10 into Dream... ?
Summer takes hold, manifold sweet odors of the Fields, and presently the Forest, become routine, and one night the Surveyors sit in their Tent, in the Dark, and watch Fire-flies, millions of them blinking ev'rywhere,— Dixon engineering plans for lighting11 the Camp-site with them, recalling how his brother George back home, ran Coal-Gas through reed piping along the Orchard12 wall. Jeremiah will lead the Fire-flies to stream con2?tinuously through the Tent in a narrow band, here and there to gather in glass Globes, concentrating their light to the Yellow of a new-risen Moon.
"And when we move to where there are none of these tiny Linkmen?"
"We take 'em with huz...? Lifetime Employment!"
"But how long do they live?"
"Ensign Cheer."
As the Visto has grown longer behind them, the Philadelphiaward Fringe of the nightly Encampment has lengthen'd to a suburbs dedicated13 to high (as some would say, low) living. Gaming, corn whiskey, Women able to put up with a heap of uncompensated overtime14, Stages knock'd together each nightfall and lanthorn'd into view, to a Murmur15 as of a great Crowd in Motion, only to be struck again each dawn,— as those for whom it is cheaper to follow than to abandon the Party for business elsewhere, groan16?ing with the Night just past, hoping for a chance to sleep sometime during the Journey, prepare to follow the Axmen through another day. The fast-and-loose artist, the Quartz-scryer, the Vasquez Brothers' Marimba Quar?tet, who often play back-up for the Torpedo17, to whom it is the musick of his Youth, his home Waters. The marimbas, in great towering Structure assem-bl'd each evening just outside of camp, pulse along, Chords and Arpeggia-tions swaying upward to their sharp'd versions, then back down again, sets of Hammers, Hands, and Sleeves all moving together along the rank'd wood Notes, nocturnal, energetic, remembrancing, warning, impelling18.... The Anthem19 of the Expedition, as it moves into the Unknown, is "Pepina-zos,"— marching, and rolling, but wishing rather to dance.
Pepinazos, nunca Abrazos, Si me Quieras, Sí
De Veras,
?Oigamé!—
Déjaté,
Los Pe-pi-naa-zos!
All summer they labor20 in the service of the Line, over Codorus, Conewago,— pausing to set up the Sector22, dodging23 inch-and-a-half hail?stones, calculating Off-sets, changing Direction,— 'cross Piney Run and Monocacy Road, and the Creeks24 beyond, till just past Middle Creek, fig25?uring they are about in their Latitude, without bothering to set up the Sector, the Surveyors turn off the Angle calculated to put them another ten minutes on,— at the South Mountain, in among all the ghosts already thick in those parts.
"We are Fools," proposes Dixon one night. The wind has shifted at about sundown to the SSE, heightening even minor26 stresses among the Company. "We shouldn't be runnin' this Line...?"
Mason regards his Cup of Claret. "Bit late for that, isn't it?"
"Why aye. I'll carry it through, Friend, fear not. But something invis?ible's going on, tha must feel it, smell it...?"
Mason shrugs27. "American Politics."
"Just so. We're being us'd again. It doesn't alarm thee...?"
An accident of the late Light has fill'd Mason's Orbits with color'd shadows. "Resign? They would bring up the Letter. Immediately. Then?"
Dixon nods glumly28, and Mason keeps on, more than he has to. "Tho' we're in this together, yet is it easier for you, being the Quaker and not expected to prove combative29, than for me, who must accordingly bear double the burden of Bravery. Splendid. Did they team us up together like this deliberately30? Are you my Penalty, precise to the Groat, for enjoying a Command of my own? For not having seconded Maskelyne at the Transit31? Now I have to be Eyre Coote?"
"Bit steep, isn't i'...?"
Mason begins fiddling32 with his Queue, bringing it first over one Shoulder, then the other. "If it were all true,— ev'ry unkind suspicion, ev'ry phantastickal rendering,— would we, knowing all, nonetheless go on? Do what's clearly our Duty?”
"We sign'd an Agreement."
"If it meant our Destruction?"
"The ancient matter of the Seahorse must ever prevent us from Resigning. We've no choice, but to go on with it, as far as we may."
"Then as we've no choice, I may speak freely and share with you some of my darker Sentiments. Suppose Maskelyne's a French Spy. Suppose a secret force of Jesuits, receives each Day a summary of Observations made at Greenwich, and transcalculates it according to a system known to the Kabbalists of the Second Century as Gematria, whereby Messages may be extracted from lines of Text sacred and otherwise, a Knowledge preserv'd by various Custodians33 over the centuries, and since the Last, possess'd by Jesuit and Freemason alike. The Dispute over Bradley's Obs, then, as over Flamsteed's before him, would keep ever as their unspoken intention that the Numbers nocturnally obtain'd be set side by side, and arrang'd into Lines, like those of a Text, manipulated till a Message be reveal'd."
"Bit sophisticated for me. Tho' I don't mind a likely Conspiracy34, I pre?fer it be form'd in the interests of Trade,— the mystickal sort you fancy is fair beyond me, I'm but a simple son of the Pit."
' 'Trade.'— Aha. You heard me mention Jesuits,— so now you're making veil'd allusions35 to the East India Company, in response,— I do see, yes... Drivel, of course."
"Come, Sir, can you not sense here, there, just 'round the corner, the pattering feet and swift Hands of John Company, the Lanthorns of the East... ? the scent36 of fresh Coriander, the whisper of a Sarong... ?"
"Sari," corrects Mason.
"Not at all Sir,— 'twas I who was sarong."
"Something's afoot with those Two, all right," says Dixon one day.
"Which two?"
"Frenchy and Mrs. Redzinger, they're scarcely together of late, 'd tha notice?"
As they draw nearer the Redzinger Farm, the presence of Peter Redzinger becomes quite sensible to both. Indeed, he's been back since the Winter,— he and the Boys have been working the place, lumbering37
about insomniack, eating whenever they happen to remember, tracking soil ev'rywhere, hardly speaking. To Luise he seems chasten'd, even at times dejected, yet innocent of all suspicion as respects his Wife, having long travel'd past the Conjugal38 Emotions,— belonging to the simple fact of another hard Pennsylvania Winter, the lowness and solidity of Sky, no day without its distress39, roads that end in Thickets40 at nightfall. "Christ went away," he discovers at last how to tell her, one morning, the eaves a-drip, the bleary Sun irregularly brighter and dimmer, "one day, for no reason that I could see, Christ came to me and said, 'Peter, I am going away. You thought it was hard before this? Here is where it gets impossible.'
" 'Are you coming back?' I almost couldn't speak.
; 'You must live ever in that Expectation.— Come, spare Me that Face,— of course it is a lot to ask.' He seem'd in a dangerously merry State. Was it relief at being shut of me, at last?
" 'How do I proceed without you?'
' 'What have I been teaching you all this time?'
"I was smit dumb, Luise. I didn't understand the Question. 'Be more like You?' I tried. He'd been teaching me? All this time? Wehe!
'' 'Alas41.' His Smile, at least, was not a pitying one, nor was it quite as disappointed as I'd fear'd. He turn'd, for the first time I saw the back of His Robe. He had a Motto in German embroider'd fine as could be in Gold Threads, upon the back. I couldn't read what it said. He receded42. He was gone."
"Peter."
"I feel cold, helpless, without him...ah. I believ'd I could count upon him forever, he was there, he was real, then he turn'd and went away. I have displeas'd Him,— but how? I lov'd him!" All day, half the Night, on he talks, stunn'd and sing-song. He does not weep as much as Luise expects. Armand has a swift look in from time to time, smiles under-standingly, heaves a Sigh, withdraws. Luise waits to grow impatient. She considers the Frenchman for the first time with unrestrain'd Desire, having glimps'd the possibility that they may never have a chance to address it,— she can also appreciate how tiresome43 this listening to Peter is. Yet from some unexplor'd Region to her Spirit's West, like upland folk with goods to sell, come Messengers with the late News, that her destiny 'spite all may lie with this craz'd Christless wreck44 of a
Husband,— or, as she will also find herself asking in tears, upon any number of future occasions, "What else was I suppos'd to do? What? That Frenchman, and his Duck? I actually tried for a while to tell Peter about our little Trio. But I couldn't even do that, for he never heard me, he was too full of old adventures, out past Monongahela, with Christ, going about in various Disguises, Christ and his Hop-field companion Peter, upon missions of education. Christ and Peter visit the Indians. Christ reminisces about His Teen Years. Christ teaches Peter how to make Golems."
"Excuse me, Luise! Your Husband, he...?"
"Makes Golems,— oh, not the big ones, Lotte! No, Kitchen-size,— some of them quite clever, the Tasks they do,— one that peels and cores Apples,— ja, even pits Cherries,—
"Luise, for Shame!" The women beam together mischievously45. One day, however, Luise will show her. Peter will not mind.
Pennsylvania is a place of spiritual Wonders amazing as any Chasm46 or Cataract47. Among the German farmers of Lancaster, for example, are scores, perhaps hundreds, of truly, literally48 Good People, escap'd from a Hell we in our small tended Quotidian49 may but try to imagine,— entire Villages put to Flame, and Tortures worse than Inquisitorial,— disembowelments, bloodlettings,— a world without Innocence50,— yet, escap'd here, into Innocence reborn,— something deeper and more intricate,— they call it "a new Life in Christ,"— it is their way of explaining it. Not a moment of their waking day passes, without some form of Christ?ian devotion. Work, which the rest of us, at one time or another, have cursed and wish'd at an end, is here consider'd Sacred,— and this is only one of many Wonders—
Never has Traveler encounter'd such personal Variety, where utter cleanness and sobriety may be seen immediately adjoining the most stupefied exhibitions of Hemp-field Folly51. There are Ger-manickal Mystics who live in Trees,— not up in the Branches, but actually within the Trunks, those particularly of ancient creekside Sycamores, which have, over time, become hollow'd out, like Cav?erns. In the midst of these lightless Woods are gun-smithies where the most advanc'd and refin'd forms of Art are daily exercis'd upon the machinery52 of Murder by Craftsmen53 whose Piety54 is unques-tion'd....
- Wicks Cherrycoke, Spiritual Day-Book
DePugh recalls a Sermon he once heard at a church-ful of German Mysticks. "It might have been a lecture in Mathematics. Hell, beneath our feet, bounded,— Heaven, above our pates55, unbounded. Hell a col?lapsing56 Sphere, Heaven an expanding one. The enclosure of Punish?ment, the release of Salvation57. Sin leading us as naturally to Hell and Compression, as doth Grace to Heaven, and Rarefaction. Thus—
Murmurs58 of, " 'Thus'?"
- may each point of Heaven be mapp'd, or projected, upon each point of Hell, and vice21 versa. And what intercepts59 the Projection60, about mid-way (reckon'd logarithmickally) between? why, this very Earth, and our lives here upon it. We only think we occupy a solid, Brick-and-Timber City,— in Reality, we live upon a Map. Perhaps even our Lives are but representations of Truer Lives, pursued above and below, as to Philadelphia correspond both a vast Heavenly City, and a crowded niche61 of Hell, each element of one faithfully mirror'd in the others."
"There are a Mason and Dixon in Hell, you mean?" inquires Ethelmer, "attempting eternally to draw a perfect Arc of Considerably62 Lesser63 Circle?"
"Impossible," ventures the Revd. "For is Hell, by this Scheme, not a Point, without Dimension?"
"Indeed. Yet, suppose Hell to be almost a Point," argues the doughty64 DePugh, already Wrangler65 material, "— they would then be inscribing66 their Line eternal, upon the inner surface of the smallest possible Spher?oid that can be imagin'd, and then some."
"More of these...," Ethelmer pretending to struggle for a Modifier that will not offend the Company, "curious Infinitesimals, Cousin.— The Masters at my Purgatory67 are bewitch'd by the confounded things. Epsilons, usually. Miserable68 little,"— Squiggling in the air, "sort of things. Eh?"
"See them often," sighs DePugh, "this semester more than ever."
'"What puzzles me, DeP, is that if the volume of Hell may be taken as small as you like, yet the Souls therein must be ever smaller, mustn't they,— there being, by now, easily millions there?"
"Aye, assuming one of the terms of Damnation be to keep just enough of one's size and weight to feel oppressively crowded,— taking as a model the old Black Hole of Calcutta, if you like,— the Soul's Volume must be an Epsilon one degree smaller,— a Sub-epsilon."
' 'The Epsilonicks of Damnation.' Well, well. There's my next Ser?mon," remarks Uncle Wicks.
"I observe," Tenebras transform'd by the pale taper-light to some beautiful Needlewoman in an old Painting, "of both of you, that your fas?cination with Hell is match'd only by your disregard of Heaven. Why should the Surveyors not be found there Above,"— gesturing with her Needle, a Curve-Ensemble of Embroidery69 Floss, of a nearly invisible gray, trailing after, in the currents rais'd by Talking, Pacing, Fanning, Approaching, Withdrawing, and whatever else there be to indoor Life,— "drifting about, chaining the endless airy Leagues, themselves approaching a condition of pure Geometry?"
"Tho' for symmetry's sake," interposes DePugh, "we ought to say, ''almost endless.''
"Why," whispers Brae, "whoever said anything had to be symmet-rickal?" The Lads, puzzl'd, exchange a quick Look.
收听单词发音 |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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gunpowder
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| n.火药 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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hops
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| 跳上[下]( hop的第三人称单数 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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7
unbearably
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| adv.不能忍受地，无法容忍地；慌 | |
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8
squandering
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的现在分词 ) | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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overtime
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| adj.超时的，加班的；adv.加班地 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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torpedo
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| n.水雷，地雷；v.用鱼雷破坏 | |
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impelling
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| adj.迫使性的，强有力的v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的现在分词 ) | |
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anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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sector
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| n.部门，部分；防御地段，防区；扇形 | |
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23
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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24
creeks
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| n.小湾( creek的名词复数 )；小港；小河；小溪 | |
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fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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27
shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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glumly
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| adv.忧郁地，闷闷不乐地；阴郁地 | |
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combative
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| adj.好战的；好斗的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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32
fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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custodians
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| n.看守人，保管人( custodian的名词复数 ) | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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43
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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46
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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47
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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48
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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49
quotidian
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| adj.每日的，平凡的 | |
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50
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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51
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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52
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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craftsmen
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| n. 技工 | |
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piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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pates
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| n.头顶，（尤指）秃顶，光顶( pate的名词复数 ) | |
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56
lapsing
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| v.退步( lapse的现在分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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57
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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58
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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intercepts
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| （数学）截距( intercept的名词复数 ) | |
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60
projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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61
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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62
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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63
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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64
doughty
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| adj.勇猛的，坚强的 | |
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65
wrangler
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| n.口角者，争论者；牧马者 | |
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66
inscribing
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的现在分词 ) | |
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67
purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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68
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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69
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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