That August I was very much run down. I had been staying in London through almost intolerably hot weather to attend a Races Congress that had greatly disappointed me. I don't know particularly now why I had been disappointed nor how far the feeling was due to my being generally run down by the pressure of detailed19 work and the stress of thinking about large subjects in little scraps20 of time. But I know that a kind of despair came over me as I sat and looked at that multicolored assembly and heard in succession the heavy platitudes21 of white men, the slick, thin cleverness of Hindoos, the rich-toned florid rhetoric22 of negroes. I lost sight of any germ of splendid possibility in all those people, and saw all too plainly the vanity, the jealousy23, the self-interests that show up so harshly against the professions of every altruistic24 movement. It seemed all such a windy business against the firm prejudices, the vast accumulated interests that grind race against race. We had no common purpose at all at that conference, no proposal to hold us together. So much of it was like bleating26 on a hillside....
I wanted a holiday badly, and then came this war crisis and I felt unable to go away for any length of time. Even bleating it seemed to me was better than acquiescence27 in a crime against humanity. So to get heart to bleat25 at Milan I snatched at ten days in the Swiss mountains en route. A tour with some taciturn guide involving a few middling climbs and glacier28 excursions seemed the best way of recuperating29. I had never had any time for Switzerland since my first exile there years ago. I took the advice of a man in the club whose name I now forget—if ever I knew it, a dark man with a scar—and went up to the Schwarzegg Hut above Grindelwald, and over the Strahlegg to the Grimsel. I had never been up into the central mass of the Bernese Oberland before, and I was amazed and extraordinarily30 delighted by the vast lonely beauty of those interminable uplands of ice. I wished I could have lingered up there. But that is the tragedy of those sunlit desolations; one may not stay; one sees and exclaims and then looks at a watch. I wonder no one has ever taken an arctic equipment up into that wilderness31, and had a good healing spell of lonely exaltation. I found the descent from the Strahlegg as much of a climb as I was disposed to undertake; for an hour we were coming down frozen snow that wasn't so much a slope as a slightly inclined precipice32....
From the Grimsel I went over the Rhone glacier to the inn on the Furka Pass, and then, paying off my guide and becoming frankly33 a pedestrian, I made my way round by the Schöllenen gorge34 to Goeschenen, and over the Susten Joch to the Susten Pass and Stein, meaning to descend35 to Meiringen.
But I still had four days before I went on to Italy, and so I decided to take one more mountain. I slept at the Stein inn, and started in the morning to do that agreeable first mountain of all, the Titlis, whose shining genial36 head attracted me. I did not think a guide necessary, but a boy took me up by a track near Gadmen, and left me to my Siegfried map some way up the great ridge37 of rocks that overlooks the Engstlen Alp. I a little overestimated38 my mountaineering, and it came about that I was benighted39 while I was still high above the Joch Pass on my descent. Some of this was steep and needed caution. I had to come down slowly with my folding lantern, in which a reluctant candle went out at regular intervals40, and I did not reach the little inn at Engstlen Alp until long after eleven at night. By that time I was very tired and hungry.
They told me I was lucky to get a room, only one stood vacant; I should certainly not have enjoyed sleeping on a billiard table after my day's work, and I ate a hearty41 supper, smoked for a time, meditated42 emptily, and went wearily to bed.
But I could not sleep. Usually, I am a good sleeper43, but ever and again when I have been working too closely or over-exerting myself I have spells of wakefulness, and that night after perhaps an hour's heavy slumber44 I became thinly alert and very weary in body and spirit, and I do not think I slept again. The pain in my leg that the panther had torn had been revived by the day's exertion45. For the greater part of my life insomnia46 has not been disagreeable to me. In the night, in the stillness, one has a kind of detachment from reality, one floats there without light, without weight, feeling very little of one's body. One has a certain disembodiment and one can achieve a magnanimity of thought, forgiveness and self-forgetfulness that are impossible while the body clamors upon one's senses. But that night, because, I suppose, I was so profoundly fatigued47, I was melancholy48 and despondent49. I could feel again the weight of the great beast upon me as he clawed me down and I clung—desperately, in that interminable instant before he lost his hold....
Yes, I was extraordinarily wretched that night. I was filled with self-contempt and self-disgust. I felt that I was utterly50 weak and vain, and all the pretensions51 and effort of my life mere52 florid, fruitless pretensions and nothing more. I had lost all control over my mind. Things that had seemed secondary before became primary, difficult things became impossible things. I had been greatly impeded53 and irritated in London by the manœuvres of a number of people who were anxious to make capital out of the crisis, self-advertising people who wanted at any cost to be lifted into a position of unique protest.... You see, that unfortunate Nobel prize has turned the advocacy of peace into a highly speculative54 profession; the qualification for the winner is so vaguely55 defined that a vast multitude of voluntary idealists has been created and a still greater number diverted from the unendowed pursuit of human welfare in other directions. Such a man as myself who is known to command a considerable publicity56 is necessarily a prey57 to those moral entrepreneurs. All sorts of ridiculous and petty incidents had forced this side of public effort upon me, but hitherto I had been able to say, with a laugh or sigh as the case warranted, "So much is dear old humanity and all of us"; and to remember the great residuum of nobility that remained. Now that last saving consideration refused to be credible58. I lay with my body and my mind in pain thinking these people over, thinking myself over too with the rest of my associates, thinking drearily59 and weakly, recalling spites, dishonesties and vanities, feuds60 and absurdities61, until I was near persuaded that all my dreams of wider human understandings, of great ends beyond the immediate1 aims and passions of common everyday lives, could be at best no more than the refuge of shy and weak and ineffective people from the failure of their personal lives....
We idealists are not jolly people, not honest simple people; the strain tells upon us; even to ourselves we are unappetizing. Aren't the burly, bellowing62 fellows after all righter, with their simple natural hostility63 to everything foreign, their valiant64 hatred65 of everything unlike themselves, their contempt for aspiring66 weakness, their beer and lush sentiment, their here-to-day-and-gone-tomorrow conviviality67 and fellowship? Good fellows! While we others, lost in filmy speculations68, in moon-and-star snaring69 and the chase of dreams, stumble where even they walk upright....
You know I have never quite believed in myself, never quite believed in my work or my religion. So it has always been with me and always, I suppose, will be. I know I am purblind70, I know I do not see my way clearly nor very far; I have to do with things imperfectly apprehended71. I cannot cheat my mind away from these convictions. I have a sort of hesitation72 of the soul as other men have a limp in their gait. God, I suppose, has a need for lame73 men. God, I suppose, has a need for blind men and fearful and doubting men, and does not intend life to be altogether swallowed up in staring sight. Some things are to be reached best by a hearing that is not distracted by any clearer senses. But so it is with me, and this is the innermost secret I have to tell you.
I go valiantly74 for the most part I know, but despair is always near to me. In the common hours of my life it is as near as a shark may be near a sleeper in a ship; the thin effectual plank75 of my deliberate faith keeps me secure, but in these rare distresses76 of the darkness the plank seems to become transparent77, to be on the verge78 of dissolution, a sense of life as of an abyssmal flood, full of cruelty, densely79 futile80, blackly aimless, penetrates81 my defences....
I don't think I can call these stumblings from conviction unbelief; the limping man walks for all his limping, and I go on in spite of my falls. "Though he slay82 me yet will I trust in him...."
I fell into an inconsecutive review of my life under this light that touched every endeavor with the pale tints83 of failure. And as that flow of melancholy reflection went on, it was shot more and more frequently with thoughts of Mary. It was not a discursive84 thinking about Mary but a definite fixed85 direction of thought towards her. I had not so thought of her for many years. I wanted her, I felt, to come to me and help me out of this distressful86 pit into which my spirit had fallen. I believed she could. I perceived our separation as an irreparable loss. She had a harder, clearer quality than I, a more assured courage, a readier, surer movement of the mind. Always she had "lift" for me. And then I had a curious impression that I had heard her voice calling my name, as one might call out in one's sleep. I dismissed it as an illusion, and then I heard it again. So clearly that I sat up and listened—breathless....
Mixed up with all this was the intolerable uproar87 and talking of a little cascade88 not fifty yards from the hotel. It is curious how distressing89 that clamor of running water, which is so characteristic of the Alpine90 night, can become. At last those sounds can take the likeness91 of any voice whatever. The water, I decided, had called to me, and now it mocked and laughed at me....
The next morning I descended92 at some late hour by Swiss reckoning, and discovered two ladies in the morning sunlight awaiting breakfast at a little green table. One rose slowly at the sight of me, and stood and surveyed me with a glad amazement93.
点击收听单词发音
1 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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2 brewed | |
调制( brew的过去式和过去分词 ); 酝酿; 沏(茶); 煮(咖啡) | |
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3 adepts | |
n.专家,能手( adept的名词复数 ) | |
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4 makers | |
n.制造者,制造商(maker的复数形式) | |
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5 idiotic | |
adj.白痴的 | |
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6 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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7 warship | |
n.军舰,战舰 | |
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8 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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9 coup | |
n.政变;突然而成功的行动 | |
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10 disperse | |
vi.使分散;使消失;vt.分散;驱散 | |
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11 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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12 impending | |
a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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13 catastrophe | |
n.大灾难,大祸 | |
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14 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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15 intervention | |
n.介入,干涉,干预 | |
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16 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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17 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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18 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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19 detailed | |
adj.详细的,详尽的,极注意细节的,完全的 | |
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20 scraps | |
油渣 | |
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21 platitudes | |
n.平常的话,老生常谈,陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 );滥套子 | |
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22 rhetoric | |
n.修辞学,浮夸之言语 | |
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23 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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24 altruistic | |
adj.无私的,为他人着想的 | |
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25 bleat | |
v.咩咩叫,(讲)废话,哭诉;n.咩咩叫,废话,哭诉 | |
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26 bleating | |
v.(羊,小牛)叫( bleat的现在分词 );哭诉;发出羊叫似的声音;轻声诉说 | |
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27 acquiescence | |
n.默许;顺从 | |
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28 glacier | |
n.冰川,冰河 | |
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29 recuperating | |
v.恢复(健康、体力等),复原( recuperate的现在分词 ) | |
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30 extraordinarily | |
adv.格外地;极端地 | |
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31 wilderness | |
n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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32 precipice | |
n.悬崖,危急的处境 | |
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33 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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34 gorge | |
n.咽喉,胃,暴食,山峡;v.塞饱,狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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35 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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36 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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37 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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38 overestimated | |
对(数量)估计过高,对…作过高的评价( overestimate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39 benighted | |
adj.蒙昧的 | |
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40 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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41 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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42 meditated | |
深思,沉思,冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 ); 内心策划,考虑 | |
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43 sleeper | |
n.睡眠者,卧车,卧铺 | |
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44 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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45 exertion | |
n.尽力,努力 | |
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46 insomnia | |
n.失眠,失眠症 | |
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47 fatigued | |
adj. 疲乏的 | |
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48 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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49 despondent | |
adj.失望的,沮丧的,泄气的 | |
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50 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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51 pretensions | |
自称( pretension的名词复数 ); 自命不凡; 要求; 权力 | |
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52 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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53 impeded | |
阻碍,妨碍,阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54 speculative | |
adj.思索性的,暝想性的,推理的 | |
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55 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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56 publicity | |
n.众所周知,闻名;宣传,广告 | |
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57 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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58 credible | |
adj.可信任的,可靠的 | |
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59 drearily | |
沉寂地,厌倦地,可怕地 | |
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60 feuds | |
n.长期不和,世仇( feud的名词复数 ) | |
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61 absurdities | |
n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 );荒谬;谬论;荒谬的行为 | |
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62 bellowing | |
v.发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的现在分词 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫 | |
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63 hostility | |
n.敌对,敌意;抵制[pl.]交战,战争 | |
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64 valiant | |
adj.勇敢的,英勇的;n.勇士,勇敢的人 | |
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65 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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66 aspiring | |
adj.有志气的;有抱负的;高耸的v.渴望;追求 | |
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67 conviviality | |
n.欢宴,高兴,欢乐 | |
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68 speculations | |
n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 );思考;投机活动;推断 | |
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69 snaring | |
v.用罗网捕捉,诱陷,陷害( snare的现在分词 ) | |
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70 purblind | |
adj.半盲的;愚笨的 | |
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71 apprehended | |
逮捕,拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 ); 理解 | |
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72 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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73 lame | |
adj.跛的,(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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74 valiantly | |
adv.勇敢地,英勇地;雄赳赳 | |
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75 plank | |
n.板条,木板,政策要点,政纲条目 | |
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76 distresses | |
n.悲痛( distress的名词复数 );痛苦;贫困;危险 | |
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77 transparent | |
adj.明显的,无疑的;透明的 | |
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78 verge | |
n.边,边缘;v.接近,濒临 | |
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79 densely | |
ad.密集地;浓厚地 | |
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80 futile | |
adj.无效的,无用的,无希望的 | |
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81 penetrates | |
v.穿过( penetrate的第三人称单数 );刺入;了解;渗透 | |
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82 slay | |
v.杀死,宰杀,杀戮 | |
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83 tints | |
色彩( tint的名词复数 ); 带白的颜色; (淡色)染发剂; 痕迹 | |
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84 discursive | |
adj.离题的,无层次的 | |
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85 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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86 distressful | |
adj.苦难重重的,不幸的,使苦恼的 | |
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87 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
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88 cascade | |
n.小瀑布,喷流;层叠;vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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89 distressing | |
a.使人痛苦的 | |
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90 alpine | |
adj.高山的;n.高山植物 | |
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91 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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92 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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93 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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