Berkeley, California.
October 27, 19—.
Do I still read my Wordsworth on my knees? Well, we may as well have it out. I have foreseen this day so long and shunned1 it that now I meet it almost with extended hands. No, I do not read my Wordsworth on my knees. My mind is filled with other things. I have not the time. I am not the Herbert Wace of six years gone. It is fair that you should know this; fair, also, that you should know the Herbert Wace of six years gone was not quite the lad you deemed him.
There is no more pathetic and terrible thing than the prejudice of love. Both you and I have suffered from it. Six years ago, ay, and before that, I felt and resented the growing difference between us. When under your spell, it seemed that I was born to lisp in numbers and devote myself to singing, that the world was good and all of it fit for singing. But away from you, even then, doubts faced me, and I knew in vague fashion that we lived in different worlds. At first in vague fashion, I say; and when with you again, your spell dominated me and I could not question. You were true, you were good, I argued, all that was wonderful and glorious; therefore, you were also right. You mastered me with your charm, as you were wont2 to master those who loved you.
But there came times when your sympathy failed me and I stood alone on outlooks I had achieved alone. There was no response from you. I could not hear your voice. I looked down upon a real world; you were caught up in a beautiful cloudland and shut away from me. Possibly it was because life of itself appealed to you, while to me appealed the mechanics of life. But be it as it may, yours was a world of ideas and fancies, mine a world of things and facts.
Enters here the prejudice of love. It was the lad that discovered our difference and concealed3; it was the man who was blind and could not discover. There we erred4, man and boy; and here, both men now, we make all well again.
Let me be explicit5. Do you remember the passion with which I read the "Intellectual Development of Europe?" I understood not the tithe6 of it, but I was thrilled. My common sense was thrilled, I suppose; but it was all very joyous7, gripping hold of the tangible8 world for the first time. And when I came to you, warm with the glow of adventure, you looked blankly, then smiled indulgently and did not answer. You regarded my ardour complacently9. A passing humour of adolescence10, you thought; and I thought: "Dane does not read his Draper on his knees." Wordsworth was great to me; Draper was great also. You had no patience with him, and I know now, as I felt then, your consistent revolt against his materialistic11 philosophy.
Only the other day you complained of a letter of mine, calling it cold and analytical12. That I should be cold and analytical despite all the prodding13 and pressing and moulding I have received at your hands, and the hands of Waring, marks only more clearly our temperamental difference; but it does not mark that one or the other of us is less a dedicated14 spirit. If I have[Pg 19] wandered away from the warmth of poesy and become practical, have you not remained and become confirmed in all that is beautifully impractical15? If I have adventured in a new world of common things, have you not lingered in the old world of great and impossible things? If I have shivered in the gray dawn of a new day, have you not crouched16 over the dying embers of the fire of yesterday? Ah, Dane, you cannot rekindle17 that fire. The whirl of the world scatters18 its ashes wide and far, like volcanic19 dust, to make beautiful crimson20 sunsets for a time and then to vanish.
None the less are you a dedicated spirit, priest that you are of a dying faith. Your prayers are futile21, your altars crumbling22, and the light flickers23 and drops down into night. Poetry is empty these days, empty and worthless and dead. All the old-world epic24 and lyric-singing will not put this very miserable25 earth of ours to rights. So long as the singers sing of the things of yesterday, glorifying27 the things of yesterday and lamenting28 their departure, so long will poetry be a vain thing and without avail. The old world is dead, dead and buried along with its heroes and Helens and knights29 and ladies and tournaments and pageants30. You cannot sing of the truth and wonder of to-day in terms of yesterday. And no one will listen to your singing till you sing of to-day in terms of to-day.
This is the day of the common man. Do you glorify26 the common man? This is the day of the machine. When have you sung of the machine? The crusades are here again, not the Crusades of Christ but the Crusades of the Machine—have you found motive31 in them for your song? We are crusading to-day, not for the remission of sins, but for the abolition32 of sinning, of economic and industrial sinning. The crusade to Christ's sepulchre was paltry33 compared with the splendour and might of our crusade to-day toward manhood. There are millions of us afoot. In the stillness of the night have you never listened to the trampling34 of our feet and been caught up by the glory and the romance of it? Oh, Dane! Dane! Our captains sit in council, our heroes take the field, our fighting men are buckling35 on their harness, our martyrs36 have already died, and you are blind to it, blind to it all!
We have no poets these days, and perforce we are singing with our hands. The walking delegate is a greater singer and a finer singer than you, Dane Kempton. The cold, analytical economist37, delving38 in the dynamics39 of society, is more the prophet than you. The carpenter at his bench, the blacksmith by his forge, the boiler-maker clanging and clattering40, are all warbling more sweetly than you. The sledge-wielder pours out more strength and certitude and joy in every blow than do you in your whole sheaf of songs. Why, the very socialist41 agitator42, hustled43 by the police on a street corner amid the jeers44 of the mob, has caught the romance of to-day as you have not caught it and where you have missed it. He knows life and is living. Are you living, Dane Kempton?
Forgive me. I had begun to explain and reconcile our difference. I find I am lecturing and censuring45 you. In defending myself, I offend. But this I wish to say: We are so made, you and I, that your function in life is to dream, mine to work. That you failed to make a dreamer of me is no cause for heartache and chagrin46. What of my practical nature and analytical mind, I have generalised in my own way upon the data of life and achieved a different code from yours. Yet I seek truth as passionately47 as you. I still believe myself to be a dedicated spirit.
And what boots it, all of it? When the last word is said, we are two men, by a thousand ties very dear to each other. There is room in our hearts for each other as there is room in the world for both of us. Though we have many things not in common, yet you are my dearest friend on earth, you who have been a second father to me as well.
You have long merited this explanation, and it was cowardly of me not to have made it before. My hope is that I have been sufficiently48 clear for you to understand.
Herbert.
点击收听单词发音
1 shunned | |
v.避开,回避,避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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3 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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4 erred | |
犯错误,做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5 explicit | |
adj.详述的,明确的;坦率的;显然的 | |
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6 tithe | |
n.十分之一税;v.课什一税,缴什一税 | |
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7 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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8 tangible | |
adj.有形的,可触摸的,确凿的,实际的 | |
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9 complacently | |
adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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10 adolescence | |
n.青春期,青少年 | |
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11 materialistic | |
a.唯物主义的,物质享乐主义的 | |
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12 analytical | |
adj.分析的;用分析法的 | |
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13 prodding | |
v.刺,戳( prod的现在分词 );刺激;促使;(用手指或尖物)戳 | |
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14 dedicated | |
adj.一心一意的;献身的;热诚的 | |
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15 impractical | |
adj.不现实的,不实用的,不切实际的 | |
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16 crouched | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17 rekindle | |
v.使再振作;再点火 | |
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18 scatters | |
v.(使)散开, (使)分散,驱散( scatter的第三人称单数 );撒 | |
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19 volcanic | |
adj.火山的;象火山的;由火山引起的 | |
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20 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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21 futile | |
adj.无效的,无用的,无希望的 | |
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22 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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23 flickers | |
电影制片业; (通常指灯光)闪烁,摇曳( flicker的名词复数 ) | |
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24 epic | |
n.史诗,叙事诗;adj.史诗般的,壮丽的 | |
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25 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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26 glorify | |
vt.颂扬,赞美,使增光,美化 | |
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27 glorifying | |
赞美( glorify的现在分词 ); 颂扬; 美化; 使光荣 | |
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28 lamenting | |
adj.悲伤的,悲哀的v.(为…)哀悼,痛哭,悲伤( lament的现在分词 ) | |
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29 knights | |
骑士; (中古时代的)武士( knight的名词复数 ); 骑士; 爵士; (国际象棋中)马 | |
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30 pageants | |
n.盛装的游行( pageant的名词复数 );穿古代服装的游行;再现历史场景的娱乐活动;盛会 | |
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31 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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32 abolition | |
n.废除,取消 | |
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33 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
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34 trampling | |
踩( trample的现在分词 ); 践踏; 无视; 侵犯 | |
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35 buckling | |
扣住 | |
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36 martyrs | |
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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37 economist | |
n.经济学家,经济专家,节俭的人 | |
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38 delving | |
v.深入探究,钻研( delve的现在分词 ) | |
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39 dynamics | |
n.力学,动力学,动力,原动力;动态 | |
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40 clattering | |
发出咔哒声(clatter的现在分词形式) | |
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41 socialist | |
n.社会主义者;adj.社会主义的 | |
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42 agitator | |
n.鼓动者;搅拌器 | |
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43 hustled | |
催促(hustle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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44 jeers | |
n.操纵帆桁下部(使其上下的)索具;嘲讽( jeer的名词复数 )v.嘲笑( jeer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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45 censuring | |
v.指责,非难,谴责( censure的现在分词 ) | |
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46 chagrin | |
n.懊恼;气愤;委屈 | |
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47 passionately | |
ad.热烈地,激烈地 | |
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48 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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