There are, broadly speaking, two types of drinkers. There is the man whom we all know, stupid, unimaginative, whose brain is bitten numbly4 by numb5 maggots; who walks generously with wide-spread, tentative legs, falls frequently in the gutter6, and who sees, in the extremity7 of his ecstasy8, blue mice and pink elephants. He is the type that gives rise to the jokes in the funny papers.
The other type of drinker has imagination, vision. Even when most pleasantly jingled9, he walks straight and naturally, never staggers nor falls, and knows just where he is and what he is doing. It is not his body but his brain that is drunken. He may bubble with wit, or expand with good fellowship. Or he may see intellectual spectres and phantoms10 that are cosmic and logical and that take the forms of syllogisms. It is when in this condition that he strips away the husks of life's healthiest illusions and gravely considers the iron collar of necessity welded about the neck of his soul. This is the hour of John Barleycorn's subtlest power. It is easy for any man to roll in the gutter. But it is a terrible ordeal12 for a man to stand upright on his two legs unswaying, and decide that in all the universe he finds for himself but one freedom—namely, the anticipating of the day of his death. With this man this is the hour of the white logic11 (of which more anon), when he knows that he may know only the laws of things—the meaning of things never. This is his danger hour. His feet are taking hold of the pathway that leads down into the grave.
All is clear to him. All these baffling head-reaches after immortality13 are but the panics of souls frightened by the fear of death, and cursed with the thrice-cursed gift of imagination. They have not the instinct for death; they lack the will to die when the time to die is at hand. They trick themselves into believing they will outwit the game and win to a future, leaving the other animals to the darkness of the grave or the annihilating14 heats of the crematory. But he, this man in the hour of his white logic, knows that they trick and outwit themselves. The one event happeneth to all alike. There is no new thing under the sun, not even that yearned-for bauble15 of feeble souls—immortality. But he knows, HE knows, standing1 upright on his two legs unswaying. He is compounded of meat and wine and sparkle, of sun-mote and world-dust, a frail16 mechanism17 made to run for a span, to be tinkered at by doctors of divinity and doctors of physic, and to be flung into the scrap-heap at the end.
Of course, all this is soul-sickness, life-sickness. It is the penalty the imaginative man must pay for his friendship with John Barleycorn. The penalty paid by the stupid man is simpler, easier. He drinks himself into sottish unconsciousness. He sleeps a drugged sleep, and, if he dream, his dreams are dim and inarticulate. But to the imaginative man, John Barleycorn sends the pitiless, spectral18 syllogisms of the white logic. He looks upon life and all its affairs with the jaundiced eye of a pessimistic German philosopher. He sees through all illusions. He transvalues all values. Good is bad, truth is a cheat, and life is a joke. From his calm-mad heights, with the certitude of a god, he beholds19 all life as evil. Wife, children, friends—in the clear, white light of his logic they are exposed as frauds and shams20. He sees through them, and all that he sees is their frailty21, their meagreness, their sordidness22, their pitifulness. No longer do they fool him. They are miserable23 little egotisms, like all the other little humans, fluttering their May-fly life-dance of an hour. They are without freedom. They are puppets of chance. So is he. He realises that. But there is one difference. He sees; he knows. And he knows his one freedom: he may anticipate the day of his death. All of which is not good for a man who is made to live and love and be loved. Yet suicide, quick or slow, a sudden spill or a gradual oozing24 away through the years, is the price John Barleycorn exacts. No friend of his ever escapes making the just, due payment.
点击收听单词发音
1 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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2 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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3 microscopically | |
显微镜下 | |
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4 numbly | |
adv.失去知觉,麻木 | |
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5 numb | |
adj.麻木的,失去感觉的;v.使麻木 | |
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6 gutter | |
n.沟,街沟,水槽,檐槽,贫民窟 | |
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7 extremity | |
n.末端,尽头;尽力;终极;极度 | |
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8 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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9 jingled | |
喝醉的 | |
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10 phantoms | |
n.鬼怪,幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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11 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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12 ordeal | |
n.苦难经历,(尤指对品格、耐力的)严峻考验 | |
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13 immortality | |
n.不死,不朽 | |
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14 annihilating | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的现在分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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15 bauble | |
n.美观而无价值的饰物 | |
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16 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
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17 mechanism | |
n.机械装置;机构,结构 | |
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18 spectral | |
adj.幽灵的,鬼魂的 | |
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19 beholds | |
v.看,注视( behold的第三人称单数 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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20 shams | |
假象( sham的名词复数 ); 假货; 虚假的行为(或感情、言语等); 假装…的人 | |
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21 frailty | |
n.脆弱;意志薄弱 | |
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22 sordidness | |
n.肮脏;污秽;卑鄙;可耻 | |
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23 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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24 oozing | |
v.(浓液等)慢慢地冒出,渗出( ooze的现在分词 );使(液体)缓缓流出;(浓液)渗出,慢慢流出 | |
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