lavengro- 第28部分

military　sights　and　sounds；　but　this　profession　was　then　closed；　as　

I　have　already　hinted；　and；　as　I　believe；　it　has　since　continued；　

to　those　who；　like　myself；　had　no　better　claims　to　urge　than　the　

services　of　a　father。



My　father；　who；　for　certain　reasons　of　his　own；　had　no　very　high　

opinion　of　the　advantages　resulting　from　this　career；　would　have　

gladly　seen　me　enter　the　Church。　　His　desire　was；　however；　

considerably　abated　by　one　or　two　passages　of　my　life；　which　

occurred　to　his　recollection。　　He　particularly　dwelt　on　the　

unheard…of　manner　in　which　I　had　picked　up　the　Irish　language；　and　

drew　from　thence　the　conclusion　that　I　was　not　fitted　by　nature　to　

cut　a　respectable　figure　at　an　English　university。　　'He　will　fly　

off　in　a　tangent；'　said　he；　'and；　when　called　upon　to　exhibit　his　

skill　in　Greek；　will　be　found　proficient　in　Irish；　I　have　observed　

the　poor　lad　attentively；　and　really　do　not　know　what　to　make　of　

him；　but　I　am　afraid　he　will　never　make　a　churchman！'　　And　I　have　

no　doubt　that　my　excellent　father　was　right；　both　in　his　premisses　

and　the　conclusion　at　which　he　arrived。　　I　had　undoubtedly；　at　one　

period　of　my　life；　forsaken　Greek　for　Irish；　and　the　instructions　

of　a　learned　Protestant　divine　for　those　of　a　Papist　gossoon；　the　

card…fancying　Murtagh；　and　of　late；　though　I　kept　it　a　strict　

secret；　I　had　abandoned　in　a　great　measure　the　study　of　the　

beautiful　Italian；　and　the　recitation　of　the　sonorous　terzets　of　

the　Divine　Comedy；　in　which　at　one　time　I　took　the　greatest　

delight；　in　order　to　become　acquainted　with　the　broken　speech；　and　

yet　more　broken　songs；　of　certain　houseless　wanderers　whom　I　had　

met　at　a　horse　fair。　　Such　an　erratic　course　was　certainly　by　no　

means　in　consonance　with　the　sober　and　unvarying　routine　of　college　

study。　　And　my　father；　who　was　a　man　of　excellent　common　sense；　

displayed　it　in　not　pressing　me　to　adopt　a　profession　which　

required　qualities　of　mind　which　he　saw　I　did　not　possess。



Other　professions　were　talked　of；　amongst　which　the　law；　but　now　an　

event　occurred　which　had　nearly　stopped　my　career；　and　merged　all　

minor　points　of　solicitude　in　anxiety　for　my　life。　　My　strength　and　

appetite　suddenly　deserted　me；　and　I　began　to　pine　and　droop。　　Some　

said　that　I　had　overgrown　myself；　and　that　these　were　the　symptoms　

of　a　rapid　decline；　I　grew　worse　and　worse；　and　was　soon　stretched　

upon　my　bed；　from　which　it　seemed　scarcely　probable　that　I　should　

ever　more　rise；　the　physicians　themselves　giving　but　slight　hopes　

of　my　recovery：　　as　for　myself；　I　made　up　my　mind　to　die；　and　felt　

quite　resigned。　　I　was　sadly　ignorant　at　that　time；　and；　when　I　

thought　of　death；　it　appeared　to　me　little　else　than　a　pleasant　

sleep；　and　I　wished　for　sleep；　of　which　I　got　but　little。　　It　was　

well　that　I　did　not　die　that　time；　for　I　repeat　that　I　was　sadly　

ignorant　of　many　important　things。　　I　did　not　die；　for　somebody　

coming　gave　me　a　strange；　bitter　draught；　a　decoction；　I　believe；　

of　a　bitter　root　which　grows　on　commons　and　desolate　places：　　and　

the　person　who　gave　it　me　was　an　ancient　female；　a　kind　of　

doctress；　who　had　been　my　nurse　in　my　infancy；　and　who；　hearing　of　

my　state；　had　come　to　see　me；　so　I　drank　the　draught；　and　became　a　

little　better；　and　I　continued　taking　draughts　made　from　the　bitter　

root　till　I　manifested　symptoms　of　convalescence。



But　how　much　more　quickly　does　strength　desert　the　human　frame　than　

return　to　it！　　I　had　become　convalescent；　it　is　true；　but　my　state　

of　feebleness　was　truly　pitiable。　　I　believe　it　is　in　that　state　

that　the　most　remarkable　feature　of　human　physiology　frequently　

exhibits　itself。　　Oh；　how　dare　I　mention　the　dark　feeling　of　

mysterious　dread　which　comes　over　the　mind；　and　which　the　lamp　of　

reason；　though　burning　bright　the　while；　is　unable　to　dispel！　　Art　

thou；　as　leeches　say；　the　concomitant　of　disease　…　the　result　of　

shattered　nerves？　　Nay；　rather　the　principle　of　woe　itself；　the　

fountain…head　of　all　sorrow　coexistent　with　man；　whose　influence　he　

feels　when　yet　unborn；　and　whose　workings　he　testifies　with　his　

earliest　cries；　when；　'drowned　in　tears；'　he　first　beholds　the　

light；　for；　as　the　sparks　fly　upward；　so　is　man　born　to　trouble；　

and　woe　doth　he　bring　with　him　into　the　world；　even　thyself；　dark　

one；　terrible　one；　causeless；　unbegotten；　without　a　father。　　Oh；　

how　unfrequently　dost　thou　break　down　the　barriers　which　divide　

thee　from　the　poor　soul　of　man；　and　overcast　its　sunshine　with　thy　

gloomy　shadow。　　In　the　brightest　days　of　prosperity　…　in　the　midst　

of　health　and　wealth　…　how　sentient　is　the　poor　human　creature　of　

thy　neighbourhood！　how　instinctively　aware　that　the　flood…gates　of　

horror　may　be　cast　open；　and　the　dark　stream　engulf　him　for　ever　

and　ever！　　Then　is　it　not　lawful　for　man　to　exclaim；　'Better　that　I　

had　never　been　born！'　　Fool；　for　thyself　thou　wast　not　born；　but　to　

fulfil　the　inscrutable　decrees　of　thy　Creator；　and　how　dost　thou　

know　that　this　dark　principle　is　not；　after　all；　thy　best　friend；　

that　it　is　not　that　which　tempers　the　whole　mass　of　thy　corruption？　　

It　may　be；　for　what　thou　knowest；　the　mother　of　wisdom；　and　of　

great　works：　　it　is　the　dread　of　the　horror　of　the　night　that　makes　

the　pilgrim　hasten　on　his　way。　　When　thou　feelest　it　nigh；　let　thy　

safety　word　be　'Onward'；　if　thou　tarry；　thou　art　overwhelmed。　　

Courage！　build　great　works　…　'tis　urging　thee　…　it　is　ever　nearest　

the　favourites　of　God　…　the　fool　knows　little　of　it。　　Thou　wouldst　

be　joyous；　wouldst　thou？　then　be　a　fool。　　What　great　work　was　ever　

the　result　of　joy；　the　puny　one？　　Who　have　been　the　wise　ones；　the　

mighty　ones；　the　conquering　ones　of　this　earth？　the　joyous？　　I　

believe　not。　　The　fool　is　happy；　or　comparatively　so　…　certainly　

the　least　sorrowful；　but　he　is　still　a　fool：　　and　whose　notes　are　

sweetest；　those　of　the　nightingale；　or　of　the　silly　lark？



'What　ails　you；　my　child？'　said　a　mother　to　her　son；　as　he　lay　on　a　

couch　under　the　influence　of　the　dreadful　one；　'what　ails　you？　you　

seem　afraid！'



BOY。　　And　so　I　am；　a　dreadful　fear　is　upon　me。



MOTHER。　　But　of　what？　　There　is　no　one　can　harm　you；　of　what　are　

you　apprehensive？



BOY。　　Of　nothing　that　I　can　express；　I　know　not　what　I　am　afraid　

of；　but　afraid　I　am。



MOTHER。　　Perhaps　you　see　sights　and　visions；　I　knew　a　lady　once　who　

was　continually　thinking　that　she　saw　an　armed　man　threaten　her；　

but　it　was　only　an　imagination；　a　phantom　of　the　brain。



BOY。　　No　armed　man　threatens　me；　and　'tis　not　a　thing　like　that　

would　cause　me　any　fear。　　Did　an　armed　man　threaten　me；　I　would　get　

up　and　fight　him；　weak　as　I　am；　I　would　wish　for　nothing　better；　

for　then；　perhaps；　I　should　lose　this　fear；　mine　is　a　dread　of　I　

know　not　what；　and　there　the　horror　lies。



MOTHER。　　Your　forehead　is　cool；　and　your　speech　collected。　　Do　you　

know　where　you　are？



BOY。　　I　know　where　I　am；　and　I　see　things　just　as　they　are；　you　are　

beside　me；　and　upon　the　table　there　is　a　book　which　was　written　by　

a　Florentine；　all　this　I　see；　and　that　there　is　no　ground　for　being　

afraid。　　I　am；　moreover；　quite　cool；　and　feel　no　pain　…　but；　but　…



And　then　there　was　a　burst　of　'gemiti；　sospiri　ed　alti　guai。'　　

Alas；　alas；　poor　child　of　clay！　as　the　sparks　fly　upward；　so　wast　

thou　born　to　sorrow　…　Onward！







CHAPTER　XIX







Agreeable　delusions　…　Youth　…　A　profession　…　Ab　Gwilym　…　Glorious　

English　law　…　There　they　pass　…　My　dear　old　master　…　The　deal　desk　

…　Language　of　the　tents　…　Where　is　Morfydd？　…　Go　to　…　only　once。



IT　has　been　said　by　this　or　that　writer；　I　scarcely　know　by　whom；　

that；　in　proportion　as　we　grow　old；　and　our　time　becomes　short；　the　

swifter　does　it　pass；　until　at　last；　as　we　approach　the　borders　of　

the　grave；　it　assumes　all　the　speed　and　impetuosity　of　a　river　

about　to　precipitate　itself　into　an　abyss；　this　is　doubtless　the　

case；　provided　we　can　carry　to　the　grave　those　pleasant　thoughts　

and　delusions；　which　alone　render　life　agreeable；　and　to　which　even　

to　the　very　last　we　would　gladly　cling；　but　what　becomes　of　the　

swiftness　of　time；　when　the　mind　sees　the　vanity　of　human　pursuits？　

which　is　sure　to　be　the　case　when　its　fondest；　dearest　hopes　have　

been　blighted　at　the　very　moment　when　the　harvest　was　deemed　

secure。　　What　becomes　from　that　moment；　I　repeat；　of　the　shortness　

of　time？　　I　put　not　the　question　to　those　who　have　never　known　that　

trial；　they　are　satisfied　with　themselves　and　all　around　them；　with　

what　they　have　done；　and　yet　hope　to　do；　some　carry　their　delusions　

with　them　to　the　borders　of　the　grave；　ay；　to　the　very　moment　when　

they　fall　into　it；　a　beautiful　golden　cloud　surrounds　them　to　the　

last；　and　such　talk　of　the　shortness　of　time：　　through　the　medium　

of　that　cloud　the　world　has　ever　been　a　pleasant　world　to　them；　

their　only　regret　is　that　they　are　so　soon　to　quit　it；　but　oh；　ye　

dear　deluded　hearts；　it　is　not　every　one　who　is　so　fortunate！



To　the　generality　of　mankind　there　is　no　period　like　youth。　　The　

generality　are　far　from　fortunate；　but　the　period　of　youth；　even　to　

the　least　so；　offers　moments　of　considerable　happiness；　for　they　

are　not　only　disposed　but　able　to　enjoy　most　things　within　their　

reach。　　With　what　trifles　at　that　period　are　we　content；　the　things　

from　which　in　after…life　we　should　turn　away　in　disdain　please　us　

then；　for　we　are　in　the　midst　of　a　golden　cloud；　and　everything　

seems　decked　with　a　golden　hue。　　Never　during　any　portion　of　my　

life　did　time　flow　on　more　speedily　than　during　the　two　or　three　

years　immediately　succeeding　the　period　to　which　we　arrived　in　the　

preceding　chapter：　　since　then　it　has　flagged　often　enough；　

sometimes　it　has　seemed　to　stand　entirely　still；　and　the　reader　may　

easily　judge　how　it　fares　at　the　present；　from　the　circumstance　of　

my　taking　pen　in　hand；　and　e