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robert louis stevenson-第29章

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  is by my side; and walks with her slim hand upon my arm?

〃Suddenly; at a corner; something beckons; a phantom finger…post; a  will o' the wisp; a foolish challenge writ in big letters on a  brand。  And twisting his red moustaches; braggadocio Virtue takes  the perilous way where dim rain falls ever; and sad winds sigh。   And after him; on his white ass; follows simpering Content。

〃Ever since I walk behind these two in the rain。  Virtue is all a… cold; limp are his curling feather and fierce moustache。  Sore  besmirched; on his jackass; follows Content。〃


The record; entitled SUNDAY THOUGHTS; which is dated some five days  earlier is naive and most characteristic; touched with the  phantastic moralities and suggestions already indicated in every  sentence; and rises to the fine climax in this respect at the  close。


〃A plague o' these Sundays!  How the church bells ring up the  sleeping past!  I cannot go in to sermon:  memories ache too hard;  and so I hide out under the blue heavens; beside the small kirk  whelmed in leaves。  Tittering country girls see me as I go past  from where they sit in the pews; and through the open door comes  the loud psalm and the fervent solitary voice of the preacher。  To  and fro I wander among the graves; and now look over one side of  the platform and see the sunlit meadow where the grown lambs go  bleating and the ewes lie in the shadow under their heaped fleeces;  and now over the other; where the rhododendrons flower fair among  the chestnut boles; and far overhead the chestnut lifts its thick  leaves and spiry blossom into the dark…blue air。  Oh; the height  and depth and thickness of the chestnut foliage!  Oh; to have wings  like a dove; and dwell in the tree's green heart!

。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。

〃A plague o' these Sundays!  How the Church bells ring up the  sleeping past!  Here has a maddening memory broken into my brain。   To the door; to the door; with the naked lunatic thought!  Once it  is forth we may talk of what we dare not entertain; once the  intriguing thought has been put to the door I can watch it out of  the loophole where; with its fellows; it raves and threatens in  dumb show。  Years ago when that thought was young; it was dearer to  me than all others; and I would speak with it always when I had an  hour alone。  These rags that so dismally trick forth its madness  were once the splendid livery my favour wrought for it on my bed at  night。  Can you see the device on the badge?  I dare not read it  there myself; yet have a guess … 'BAD WARE NICHT' … is not that the  humour of it?

。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。

〃A plague o' these Sundays!  How the Church bells ring up the  sleeping past!  If I were a dove and dwelt in the monstrous  chestnuts; where the bees murmur all day about the flowers; if I  were a sheep and lay on the field there under my comely fleece; if  I were one of the quiet dead in the kirkyard … some homespun farmer  dead for a long age; some dull hind who followed the plough and  handled the sickle for threescore years and ten in the distant  past; if I were anything but what I am out here; under the sultry  noon; between the deep chestnuts; among the graves; where the  fervent voice of the preacher comes to me; thin and solitary;  through the open windows; IF I WERE WHAT I WAS YESTERDAY; AND WHAT;  BEFORE GOD; I SHALL BE AGAIN TO…MORROW; HOW SHOULD I OUTFACE THESE  BRAZEN MEMORIES; HOW LIVE DOWN THIS UNCLEAN RESURRECTION OF DEAD  HOPES!〃


Close associated with this always is the moralising faculty; which  is assertive。  Take here the cunning sentences on SELFISHNESS AND  EGOTISM; very Hawthornian yet quite original:


〃An unconscious; easy; selfish person shocks less; and is more  easily loved; than one who is laboriously and egotistically  unselfish。  There is at least no fuss about the first; but the  other parades his sacrifices; and so sells his favours too dear。   Selfishness is calm; a force of nature; you might say the trees  were selfish。  But egotism is a piece of vanity; it must always  take you into its confidence; it is uneasy; troublesome; seeking;  it can do good; but not handsomely; it is uglier; because less  dignified; than selfishness itself。〃


If Mr Henley had but had this clear in his mind he might well have  quoted it in one connection against Stevenson himself in the PALL  MALL MAGAZINE article。  He could hardly have quoted anything more  apparently apt to the purpose。

In the sphere of minor morals there is no more important topic。   Unselfishness is too often only the most exasperating form of  selfishness。  Here is another very characteristic bit:


〃You will always do wrong:  you must try to get used to that; my  son。  It is a small matter to make a work about; when all the world  is in the same case。  I meant when I was a young man to write a  great poem; and now I am cobbling little prose articles and in  excellent good spirits。  I thank you。 。 。 。 Our business in life is  not to succeed; but to continue to fail; in good spirits。〃


Again:


〃It is the mark of good action that it appears inevitable in the  retrospect。  We should have been cut…throats to do otherwise。  And  there's an end。  We ought to know distinctly that we are damned for  what we do wrong; but when we have done right; we have only been  gentlemen; after all。  There is nothing to make a work about。〃


The moral to THE HOUSE OF ELD is incisive writ out of true  experience … phantasy there becomes solemn; if not; for the nonce;  tragic:…


〃Old is the tree and the fruit good; Very old and thick the wood。 Woodman; is your courage stout? Beware! the root is wrapped about Your mother's heart; your father's bones; And; like the mandrake; comes with groans。〃


The phantastic moralist is supreme; jauntily serious; facetiously  earnest; most gravely funny in the whole series of MORAL EMBLEMS。


〃Reader; your soul upraise to see; In yon fair cut designed by me; The pauper by the highwayside Vainly soliciting from pride。 Mark how the Beau with easy air Contemns the anxious rustic's prayer And casting a disdainful eye Goes gaily gallivanting by。 He from the poor averts his head 。 。 。 He will regret it when he's dead。〃


Now; the man who would trace out step by step and point by point;  clearly and faithfully; the process by which Stevenson worked  himself so far free of this his besetting tendency to moralised  symbolism or allegory into the freer air of life and real  character; would do more to throw light on Stevenson's genius; and  the obstacles he had had to contend with in becoming a novelist  eager to interpret definite times and character; than has yet been  done or even faithfully attempted。  This would show at once  Stevenson's wonderful growth and the saving grace and elasticity of  his temperament and genius。  Few men who have by force of native  genius gone into allegory or moralised phantasy ever depart out of  that fateful and enchanted region。  They are as it were at once  lost and imprisoned in it and kept there as by a spell … the more  they struggle for freedom the more surely is the bewitching charm  laid upon them … they are but like the fly in amber。  It was so  with Ludwig Tieck; it was so with Nathaniel Hawthorn
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