memories and portraits- 第5部分

know　the　name　of　that　branch　of　knowledge　which　is　worth　acquiring　

at　the　price　of　a　brain　fever。　　There　are　many　sordid　tragedies　in　

the　life　of　the　student；　above　all　if　he　be　poor；　or　drunken；　or　

both；　but　nothing　more　moves　a　wise　man's　pity　than　the　case　of　the　

lad　who　is　in　too　much　hurry　to　be　learned。　　And　so；　for　the　sake　

of　a　moral　at　the　end；　I　will　call　up　one　more　figure；　and　have　

done。　　A　student；　ambitious　of　success　by　that　hot；　intemperate　

manner　of　study　that　now　grows　so　common；　read　night　and　day　for　an　

examination。　　As　he　went　on；　the　task　became　more　easy　to　him；　

sleep　was　more　easily　banished；　his　brain　grew　hot　and　clear　and　

more　capacious；　the　necessary　knowledge　daily　fuller　and　more　

orderly。　　It　came　to　the　eve　of　the　trial　and　he　watched　all　night　

in　his　high　chamber；　reviewing　what　he　knew；　and　already　secure　of　

success。　　His　window　looked　eastward；　and　being　（as　I　said）　high　

up；　and　the　house　itself　standing　on　a　hill；　commanded　a　view　over　

dwindling　suburbs　to　a　country　horizon。　　At　last　my　student　drew　up　

his　blind；　and　still　in　quite　a　jocund　humour；　looked　abroad。　　Day　

was　breaking；　the　cast　was　tinging　with　strange　fires；　the　clouds　

breaking　up　for　the　coming　of　the　sun；　and　at　the　sight；　nameless　

terror　seized　upon　his　mind。　　He　was　sane；　his　senses　were　

undisturbed；　he　saw　clearly；　and　knew　what　he　was　seeing；　and　knew　

that　it　was　normal；　but　he　could　neither　bear　to　see　it　nor　find　

the　strength　to　look　away；　and　fled　in　panic　from　his　chamber　into　

the　enclosure　of　the　street。　　In　the　cool　air　and　silence；　and　

among　the　sleeping　houses；　his　strength　was　renewed。　　Nothing　

troubled　him　but　the　memory　of　what　had　passed；　and　an　abject　fear　

of　its　return。



〃Gallo　canente；　spes　redit；

Aegris　salus　refunditur；

Lapsis　fides　revertitur；〃



as　they　sang　of　old　in　Portugal　in　the　Morning　Office。　　But　to　him　

that　good　hour　of　cockcrow；　and　the　changes　of　the　dawn；　had　

brought　panic；　and　lasting　doubt；　and　such　terror　as　he　still　shook　

to　think　of。　　He　dared　not　return　to　his　lodging；　he　could　not　eat；　

he　sat　down；　he　rose　up；　he　wandered；　the　city　woke　about　him　with　

its　cheerful　bustle；　the　sun　climbed　overhead；　and　still　he　grew　

but　the　more　absorbed　in　the　distress　of　his　recollection　and　the　

fear　of　his　past　fear。　　At　the　appointed　hour；　he　came　to　the　door　

of　the　place　of　examination；　but　when　he　was　asked；　he　had　

forgotten　his　name。　　Seeing　him　so　disordered；　they　had　not　the　

heart　to　send　him　away；　but　gave　him　a　paper　and　admitted　him；　

still　nameless；　to　the　Hall。　　Vain　kindness；　vain　efforts。　　He　

could　only　sit　in　a　still　growing　horror；　writing　nothing；　ignorant　

of　all；　his　mind　filled　with　a　single　memory　of　the　breaking　day　

and　his　own　intolerable　fear。　　And　that　same　night　he　was　tossing　

in　a　brain　fever。



People　are　afraid　of　war　and　wounds　and　dentists；　all　with　

excellent　reason；　but　these　are　not　to　be　compared　with　such　

chaotic　terrors　of　the　mind　as　fell　on　this　young　man；　and　made　him　

cover　his　eyes　from　the　innocent　morning。　　We　all　have　by　our　

bedsides　the　box　of　the　Merchant　Abudah；　thank　God；　securely　enough　

shut；　but　when　a　young　man　sacrifices　sleep　to　labour；　let　him　have　

a　care；　for　he　is　playing　with　the　lock。









CHAPTER　III。　OLD　MORTALITY





I





THERE　is　a　certain　graveyard；　looked　upon　on　the　one　side　by　a　

prison；　on　the　other　by　the　windows　of　a　quiet　hotel；　below；　under　

a　steep　cliff；　it　beholds　the　traffic　of　many　lines　of　rail；　and　

the　scream　of　the　engine　and　the　shock　of　meeting　buffers　mount　to　

it　all　day　long。　　The　aisles　are　lined　with　the　inclosed　sepulchres　

of　families；　door　beyond　door；　like　houses　in　a　street；　and　in　the　

morning　the　shadow　of　the　prison　turrets；　and　of　many　tall　

memorials；　fall　upon　the　graves。　　There；　in　the　hot　fits　of　youth；　

I　came　to　be　unhappy。　　Pleasant　incidents　are　woven　with　my　memory　

of　the　place。　　I　here　made　friends　with　a　plain　old　gentleman；　a　

visitor　on　sunny　mornings；　gravely　cheerful；　who；　with　one　eye　upon　

the　place　that　awaited　him；　chirped　about　his　youth　like　winter　

sparrows；　a　beautiful　housemaid　of　the　hotel　once；　for　some　days　

together；　dumbly　flirted　with　me　from　a　window　and　kept　my　wild　

heart　flying；　and　once　…　she　possibly　remembers　…　the　wise　Eugenia　

followed　me　to　that　austere　inclosure。　　Her　hair　came　down；　and　in　

the　shelter　of　the　tomb　my　trembling　fingers　helped　her　to　repair　

the　braid。　　But　for　the　most　part　I　went　there　solitary　and；　with　

irrevocable　emotion；　pored　on　the　names　of　the　forgotten。　　Name　

after　name；　and　to　each　the　conventional　attributions　and　the　idle　

dates：　a　regiment　of　the　unknown　that　had　been　the　joy　of　mothers；　

and　had　thrilled　with　the　illusions　of　youth；　and　at　last；　in　the　

dim　sick…room；　wrestled　with　the　pangs　of　old　mortality。　　In　that　

whole　crew　of　the　silenced　there　was　but　one　of　whom　my　fancy　had　

received　a　picture；　and　he；　with　his　comely；　florid　countenance；　

bewigged　and　habited　in　scarlet；　and　in　his　day　combining　fame　and　

popularity；　stood　forth；　like　a　taunt；　among　that　company　of　

phantom　appellations。　　It　was　then　possible　to　leave　behind　us　

something　more　explicit　than　these　severe；　monotonous　and　lying　

epitaphs；　and　the　thing　left；　the　memory　of　a　painted　picture　and　

what　we　call　the　immortality　of　a　name；　was　hardly　more　desirable　

than　mere　oblivion。　　Even　David　Hume；　as　he　lay　composed　beneath　

that　〃circular　idea；〃　was　fainter　than　a　dream；　and　when　the　

housemaid；　broom　in　hand；　smiled　and　beckoned　from　the　open　window；　

the　fame　of　that　bewigged　philosopher　melted　like　a　raindrop　in　the　

sea。



And　yet　in　soberness　I　cared　as　little　for　the　housemaid　as　for　

David　Hume。　　The　interests　of　youth　are　rarely　frank；　his　passions；　

like　Noah's　dove；　come　home　to　roost。　　The　fire；　sensibility；　and　

volume　of　his　own　nature；　that　is　all　that　he　has　learned　to　

recognise。　　The　tumultuary　and　gray　tide　of　life；　the　empire　of　

routine；　the　unrejoicing　faces　of　his　elders；　fill　him　with　

contemptuous　surprise；　there　also　he　seems　to　walk　among　the　tombs　

of　spirits；　and　it　is　only　in　the　course　of　years；　and　after　much　

rubbing　with　his　fellow…men；　that　he　begins　by　glimpses　to　see　

himself　from　without　and　his　fellows　from　within：　to　know　his　own　

for　one　among　the　thousand　undenoted　countenances　of　the　city　

street；　and　to　divine　in　others　the　throb　of　human　agony　and　hope。　　

In　the　meantime　he　will　avoid　the　hospital　doors；　the　pale　faces；　

the　cripple；　the　sweet　whiff　of　chloroform　…　for　there；　on　the　most　

thoughtless；　the　pains　of　others　are　burned　home；　but　he　will　

continue　to　walk；　in　a　divine　self…pity；　the　aisles　of　the　

forgotten　graveyard。　　The　length　of　man's　life；　which　is　endless　to　

the　brave　and　busy；　is　scorned　by　his　ambitious　thought。　　He　cannot　

bear　to　have　come　for　so　little；　and　to　go　again　so　wholly。　　He　

cannot　bear；　above　all；　in　that　brief　scene；　to　be　still　idle；　and　

by　way　of　cure；　neglects　the　little　that　he　has　to　do。　　The　parable　

of　the　talent　is　the　brief　epitome　of　youth。　　To　believe　in　

immortality　is　one　thing；　but　it　is　first　needful　to　believe　in　

life。　　Denunciatory　preachers　seem　not　to　suspect　that　they　may　be　

taken　gravely　and　in　evil　part；　that　young　men　may　come　to　think　of　

time　as　of　a　moment；　and　with　the　pride　of　Satan　wave　back　the　

inadequate　gift。　　Yet　here　is　a　true　peril；　this　it　is　that　sets　

them　to　pace　the　graveyard　alleys　and　to　read；　with　strange　

extremes　of　pity　and　derision；　the　memorials　of　the　dead。



Books　were　the　proper　remedy：　books　of　vivid　human　import；　forcing　

upon　their　minds　the　issues；　pleasures；　busyness；　importance　and　

immediacy　of　that　life　in　which　they　stand；　books　of　smiling　or　

heroic　temper；　to　excite　or　to　console；　books　of　a　large　design；　

shadowing　the　complexity　of　that　game　of　consequences　to　which　we　

all　sit　down；　the　hanger…back　not　least。　　But　the　average　sermon　

flees　the　point；　disporting　itself　in　that　eternity　of　which　we　

know；　and　need　to　know；　so　little；　avoiding　the　bright；　crowded；　

and　momentous　fields　of　life　where　destiny　awaits　us。　　Upon　the　

average　book　a　writer　may　be　silent；　he　may　set　it　down　to　his　ill…

hap　that　when　his　own　youth　was　in　the　acrid　fermentation；　he　

should　have　fallen　and　fed　upon　the　cheerless　fields　of　Obermann。　　

Yet　to　Mr。　Arnold；　who　led　him　to　these　pastures；　he　still　bears　a　

grudge。　　The　day　is　perhaps　not　far　oft　when　people　will　begin　to　

count　MOLL　FLANDERS；　ay；　or　THE　COUNTRY　WIFE；　more　wholesome　and　

more　pious　diet　than　these　guide…books　to　consistent　egoism。



But　the　most　inhuman　of　boys　soon　wearies　of　the　inhumanity　of　

Obermann。　　And　even　while　I　still　continued　to　be　a　haunter　of　the　

graveyard；　I　began　insensibly　to　turn　my　attention　to　the　grave…

diggers；　and　was　weaned　out　of　myself　to　observe　the　conduct　of