lavengro- 第37部分

'May　I　request　to　know　who　you　are；　gentlemen？'　said　the　

magistrate。



'Sir；'　said　the　man　in　a　deep；　but　not　unpleasant　voice；　'allow　me　

to　introduce　to　you　my　friend；　Mr。　…；　the　celebrated　pugilist'；　and　

he　motioned　with　his　hand　towards　the　massive　man　with　the　

flattened　nose。



'And　your　own　name；　sir？'　said　the　magistrate。



'My　name　is　no　matter；'　said　the　man；　'were　I　to　mention　it　to　you；　

it　would　awaken　within　you　no　feeling　of　interest。　　It　is　neither　

Kean　nor　Belcher；　and　I　have　as　yet　done　nothing　to　distinguish　

myself　like　either　of　those　individuals；　or　even　like　my　friend　

here。　　However；　a　time　may　come　…　we　are　not　yet　buried；　and　

whensoever　my　hour　arrives；　I　hope　I　shall　prove　myself　equal　to　my　

destiny；　however　high　…





'Like　bird　that's　bred　amongst　the　Helicons。'





And　here　a　smile　half　theatrical　passed　over　his　features。



'In　what　can　I　oblige　you；　sir？'　said　the　magistrate。



'Well；　sir；　the　soul　of　wit　is　brevity；　we　want　a　place　for　an　

approaching　combat　between　my　friend　here　and　a　brave　from　town。　　

Passing　by　your　broad　acres　this　fine　morning　we　saw　a　pightle；　

which　we　deemed　would　suit。　　Lend　us　that　pightle；　and　receive　our　

thanks；　'twould　be　a　favour；　though　not　much　to　grant：　　we　neither　

ask　for　Stonehenge　nor　for　Tempe。'



My　friend　looked　somewhat　perplexed；　after　a　moment；　however；　he　

said；　with　a　firm　but　gentlemanly　air；　'Sir；　I　am　sorry　that　I　

cannot　comply　with　your　request。'



'Not　comply！'　said　the　man；　his　brow　becoming　dark　as　midnight；　and　

with　a　hoarse　and　savage　tone；　'Not　comply！　why　not？'



'It　is　impossible；　sir；　utterly　impossible！'



'Why　so？'



'I　am　not　compelled　to　give　my　reasons　to　you；　sir；　nor　to　any　

man。'



'Let　me　beg　of　you　to　alter　your　decision；'　said　the　man；　in　a　tone　

of　profound　respect。



'Utterly　impossible；　sir；　I　am　a　magistrate。'



'Magistrate！　then　fare　ye　well；　for　a　green…coated　buffer　and　a　

Harmanbeck。'



'Sir！'　said　the　magistrate；　springing　up　with　a　face　fiery　with　

wrath。



But；　with　a　surly　nod　to　me；　the　man　left　the　apartment；　and　in　a　

moment　more　the　heavy　footsteps　of　himself　and　his　companion　were　

heard　descending　the　staircase。



'Who　is　that　man？'　said　my　friend；　turning　towards　me。



'A　sporting　gentleman；　well　known　in　the　place　from　which　I　come。'



'He　appeared　to　know　you。'



'I　have　occasionally　put　on　the　gloves　with　him。'



'What　is　his　name？'







CHAPTER　XXV







Doubts　…　Wise　king　of　Jerusalem　…　Let　me　see　…　A　thousand　years　…　

Nothing　new　…　The　crowd　…　The　hymn　…　Faith　…　Charles　Wesley　…　There　

he　stood　…　Farewell；　brother　…　Death　…　Sun；　moon；　and　stars　…　Wind　

on　the　heath。



THERE　was　one　question　which　I　was　continually　asking　myself　at　

this　period；　and　which　has　more　than　once　met　the　eyes　of　the　

reader　who　has　followed　me　through　the　last　chapter：　　'What　is　

truth？'　　I　had　involved　myself　imperceptibly　in　a　dreary　labyrinth　

of　doubt；　and；　whichever　way　I　turned；　no　reasonable　prospect　of　

extricating　myself　appeared。　　The　means　by　which　I　had　brought　

myself　into　this　situation　may　be　very　briefly　told；　I　had　inquired　

into　many　matters；　in　order　that　I　might　become　wise；　and　I　had　

read　and　pondered　over　the　words　of　the　wise；　so　called；　till　I　had　

made　myself　master　of　the　sum　of　human　wisdom；　namely；　that　

everything　is　enigmatical　and　that　man　is　an　enigma　to　himself；　

thence　the　cry　of　'What　is　truth？'　　I　had　ceased　to　believe　in　the　

truth　of　that　in　which　I　had　hitherto　trusted；　and　yet　could　find　

nothing　in　which　I　could　put　any　fixed　or　deliberate　belief　…　I　

was；　indeed；　in　a　labyrinth！　　In　what　did　I　not　doubt？　　With　

respect　to　crime　and　virtue　I　was　in　doubt；　I　doubted　that　the　one　

was　blamable　and　the　other　praiseworthy。　　Are　not　all　things　

subjected　to　the　law　of　necessity？　　Assuredly　time　and　chance　

govern　all　things：　　Yet　how　can　this　be？　alas！



Then　there　was　myself；　for　what　was　I　born？　　Are　not　all　things　

born　to　be　forgotten？　　That's　incomprehensible：　　yet　is　it　not　so？　　

Those　butterflies　fall　and　are　forgotten。　　In　what　is　man　better　

than　a　butterfly？　　All　then　is　born　to　be　forgotten。　　Ah！　that　was　

a　pang　indeed；　'tis　at　such　a　moment　that　a　man　wishes　to　die。　　The　

wise　king　of　Jerusalem；　who　sat　in　his　shady　arbours　beside　his　

sunny　fish…pools；　saying　so　many　fine　things；　wished　to　die；　when　

he　saw　that　not　only　all　was　vanity；　but　that　he　himself　was　

vanity。　　Will　a　time　come　when　all　will　be　forgotten　that　now　is　

beneath　the　sun？　　If　so；　of　what　profit　is　life？



In　truth　it　was　a　sore　vexation　of　spirit　to　me　when　I　saw；　as　the　

wise　man　saw　of　old；　that　whatever　I　could　hope　to　perform　must　

necessarily　be　of　very　temporary　duration；　and　if　so；　why　do　it？　　I　

said　to　myself；　whatever　name　I　can　acquire；　will　it　endure　for　

eternity？　scarcely　so。　　A　thousand　years？　　Let　me　see！　what　have　I　

done　already？　　I　have　learnt　Welsh；　and　have　translated　the　songs　

of　Ab　Gwilym；　some　ten　thousand　lines；　into　English　rhyme；　I　have　

also　learnt　Danish；　and　have　rendered　the　old　book　of　ballads　cast　

by　the　tempest　upon　the　beach　into　corresponding　English　metre。　　

Good！　have　I　done　enough　already　to　secure　myself　a　reputation　of　a　

thousand　years？　　No；　no！　certainly　not；　I　have　not　the　slightest　

ground　for　hoping　that　my　translations　from　the　Welsh　and　Danish　

will　be　read　at　the　end　of　a　thousand　years。　　Well；　but　I　am　only　

eighteen；　and　I　have　not　stated　all　that　I　have　done；　I　have　learnt　

many　other　tongues；　and　have　acquired　some　knowledge　even　of　Hebrew　

and　Arabic。　　Should　I　go　on　in　this　way　till　I　am　forty；　I　must　

then　be　very　learned；　and　perhaps；　among　other　things；　may　have　

translated　the　Talmud；　and　some　of　the　great　works　of　the　Arabians。　　

Pooh！　all　this　is　mere　learning　and　translation；　and　such　will　

never　secure　immortality。　　Translation　is　at　best　an　echo；　and　it　

must　be　a　wonderful　echo　to　be　heard　after　the　lapse　of　a　thousand　

years。　　No！　all　I　have　already　done；　and　all　I　may　yet　do　in　the　

same　way；　I　may　reckon　as　nothing　…　mere　pastime；　something　else　

must　be　done。　　I　must　either　write　some　grand　original　work；　or　

conquer　an　empire；　the　one　just　as　easy　as　the　other。　　But　am　I　

competent　to　do　either？　　Yes；　I　think　I　am；　under　favourable　

circumstances。　　Yes；　I　think　I　may　promise　myself　a　reputation　of　a　

thousand　years；　if　I　do　but　give　myself　the　necessary　trouble。　　

Well！　but　what's　a　thousand　years　after　all；　or　twice　a　thousand　

years？　　Woe　is　me！　　I　may　just　as　well　sit　still。



'Would　I　had　never　been　born！'　I　said　to　myself；　and　a　thought　

would　occasionally　intrude：　　But　was　I　ever　born？　　Is　not　all　that　

I　see　a　lie　…　a　deceitful　phantom？　　Is　there　a　world；　and　earth；　

and　sky？　　Berkeley's　doctrine　…　Spinoza's　doctrine！　　Dear　reader；　I　

had　at　that　time　never　read　either　Berkeley　or　Spinoza。　　I　have　

still　never　read　them；　who　are　they；　men　of　yesterday？　　'All　is　a　

lie　…　all　a　deceitful　phantom；'　are　old　cries；　they　come　naturally　

from　the　mouths　of　those　who；　casting　aside　that　choicest　shield　

against　madness；　simplicity；　would　fain　be　wise　as　God；　and　can　

only　know　that　they　are　naked。　　This　doubting　in　the　'universal　

all'　is　almost　coeval　with　the　human　race：　　wisdom；　so　called；　was　

early　sought　after。　　All　is　a　lie　…　a　deceitful　phantom　…　was　said　

when　the　world　was　yet　young；　its　surface；　save　a　scanty　portion；　

yet　untrodden　by　human　foot；　and　when　the　great　tortoise　yet　

crawled　about。　　All　is　a　lie；　was　the　doctrine　of　Buddh；　and　Buddh　

lived　thirty　centuries　before　the　wise　king　of　Jerusalem；　who　sat　

in　his　arbours；　beside　his　sunny　fish…pools；　saying　many　fine　

things；　and；　amongst　others；　'There　is　nothing　new　under　the　sun！'





One　day；　whilst　I　bent　my　way　to　the　heath　of　which　I　have　spoken　

on　a　former　occasion；　at　the　foot　of　the　hills　which　formed　it　I　

came　to　a　place　where　a　wagon　was　standing；　but　without　horses；　the　

shafts　resting　on　the　ground；　there　was　a　crowd　about　it；　which　

extended　half…way　up　the　side　of　the　neighbouring　hill。　　The　wagon　

was　occupied　by　some　half　a　dozen　men；　some　sitting；　others　

standing　…　they　were　dressed　in　sober…coloured　habiliments　of　black　

or　brown；　cut　in　a　plain　and　rather　uncouth　fashion；　and　partially　

white　with　dust；　their　hair　was　short；　and　seemed　to　have　been　

smoothed　down　by　the　application　of　the　hand；　all　were　bareheaded　…　

sitting　or　standing；　all　were　bareheaded。　　One　of　them；　a　tall　man；　

was　speaking　as　I　arrived；　ere；　however；　I　could　distinguish　what　

he　was　saying；　he　left　off；　and　then　there　was　a　cry　for　a　hymn　'to　

the　glory　of　God'　…　that　was　the　word。　　It　was　a　strange…sounding　

hymn；　as　well　it　might　be；　for　everybody　joined　in　it：　　there　were　

voices　of　all　kinds；　of　men；　of　women；　and　of　children　…　of　those　

who　could　sing　and　of　those　who　could　not　…　a　thousand　voices　all　

joined；　and　all　joined　heartily；　no　voice　of　all　the　multitude　was　

silent　save　mine。　　The　crowd　consisted　entirely　of　the　lower　

classes；　labourers　and　mechanics；　and　their　wives　and　children　…　

dusty　people；　unwashed　people；　people　of　no　account　whatever；　and　

yet　they　did　not　look　a　mob。　　And　when　that　hymn　was　over　…　and　

here　let　me　observe　that；　strange　as　it　sounded；　I　have　recalled　

that　hymn　to　mind；　and　it　has　seemed　to　tingle　in　my　ears　on　

occasions　when　all　that　pomp　and　art　could　do　to　enhance　religious　

solemnity　was　being　done　…　in　the　Sistine　Chapel；　what　time　the　

papal　band　was　in　full　play；　and　the　choicest　choristers　of　Italy　

poured　forth　their　mellowest　tones　in　presence　of　Batuschca　and　his　

cardinals　…　on　the　ice　of　the　Neva；　what　time　the　long　train　of　

stately　priests；　with　their　noble　beards　and　their　flowing　robes　of　

crimson　and　gold；　with　their　ebony　and　ivory　staves；　stalked　along；　

chanting　t