a mortal antipathy-第17部分

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muddled　if　anything　came　up　requiring　swift　decision　and　off…hand

speech。　　The　Terror　had　schooled　herself　in　the　debating　societies　of

the　Institute；　and　would　set　up　the　President；　when　he　was　floored　by

an　awkward　question；　as　easily　as　if　he　were　a　ninepin　which　had　been

bowled　over。



It　has　been　already　mentioned　that　the　Pansophian　Society　received

communications　from　time　to　time　from　writers　outside　of　its　own

organization。　　Of　late　these　had　been　becoming　more　frequent。　　Many

of　them　were　sent　in　anonymously；　and　as　there　were　numerous　visitors

to　the　village；　and　two　institutions　not　far　removed　from　it；　both

full　of　ambitious　and　intelligent　young　persons；　it　was　often

impossible　to　trace　the　papers　to　their　authors。　　The　new　Secretary

was　alive　with　curiosity；　and　as　sagacious　a　little　body　as　one　might

find　if　in　want　of　a　detective。　　She　could　make　a　pretty　shrewd　guess

whether　a　paper　was　written　by　a　young　or　old　person；　by　one　of　her

own　sex　or　the　other；　by　an　experienced　hand　or　a　novice。



Among　the　anonymous　papers　she　received　was　one　which　exercised　her

curiosity　to　an　extraordinary　degree。　　She　felt　a　strong　suspicion

that　〃the　Sachem；〃　as　the　boat…crews　used　to　call　him；　〃the　Recluse；〃

〃the　Night…Hawk；〃　〃the　Sphinx；〃　as　others　named　him；　must　be　the

author　of　it。　　It　appeared　to　her　the　production　of　a　young　person　of

a　reflective；　poetical　turn　of　mind。　　It　was　not　a　woman's　way　of

writing；　at　least；　so　thought　the　Secretary。　　The　writer　had

travelled　much；　had　resided　in　Italy；　among　other　places。　　But　so　had

many　of　the　summer　visitors　and　residents　of　Arrowhead　Village。　　The

handwriting　was　not　decisive；　it　had　some　points　of　resemblance　with

the　pencilled　orders　for　books　which　Maurice　sent　to　the　Library；　but

there　were　certain　differences；　intentional　or　accidental；　which

weakened　this　evidence。　　There　was　an　undertone　in　the　essay　which

was　in　keeping　with　the　mode　of　life　of　the　solitary　stranger。　　It

might　be　disappointment；　melancholy；　or　only　the　dreamy　sadness　of　a

young　person　who　sees　the　future　he　is　to　climb；　not　as　a　smooth

ascent；　but　as　overhanging　him　like　a　cliff；　ready　to　crush　him；　with

all　his　hopes　and　prospects。　　This　interpretation　may　have　been　too

imaginative；　but　here　is　the　paper；　and　the　reader　can　form　his　own

opinion：



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　MY　THREE　COMPANIONS。



〃I　have　been　from　my　youth　upwards　a　wanderer。　　I　do　not　mean

constantly　flitting　from　one　place　to　another；　for　my　residence　has

often　been　fixed　for　considerable　periods。　　From　time　to　time　I　have

put　down　in　a　notebook　the　impressions　made　upon　me　by　the　scenes

through　which　I　have　passed。　　I　have　long　hesitated　whether　to　let

any　of　my　notes　appear　before　the　public。　　My　fear　has　been　that　they

were　too　subjective；　to　use　the　metaphysician's　term；that　I　have

seen　myself　reflected　in　Nature；　and　not　the　true　aspects　of　Nature

as　she　was　meant　to　be　understood。　　One　who　should　visit　the　Harz

Mountains　would　seemight　see；　rather　his　own　colossal　image　shape

itself　on　the　morning　mist。　　But　if　in　every　mist　that　rises　from　the

meadows；　in　every　cloud　that　hangs　upon　the　mountain；　he　always　finds

his　own　reflection；　we　cannot　accept　him　as　an　interpreter　of　the

landscape。



〃There　must　be　many　persons　present　at　the　meetings　of　the　Society　to

which　this　paper　is　offered　who　have　had　experiences　like　that　of　its

author。　　They　have　visited　the　same　localities；　they　have　had　many　of

the　same　thoughts　and　feelings。　　Many；　I　have　no　doubt。　　Not　all；

no；　not　all。　　Others　have　sought　the　companionship　of　Nature；　I　have

been　driven　to　it。　　Much　of　my　life　has　been　passed　in　that

communion。　　These　pages　record　some　of　the　intimacies　I　have　formed

with　her　under　some　of　her　various　manifestations。



〃I　have　lived　on　the　shore　of　the　great　ocean；　where　its　waves　broke

wildest　and　its　voice　rose　loudest。



〃I　have　passed　whole　seasons　on　the　banks　of　mighty　and　famous

rivers。



〃I　have　dwelt　on　the　margin　of　a　tranquil　lake；　and　floated　through

many　a　long；　long　summer　day　on　its　clear　waters。



〃I　have　learned　the　'various　language'　of　Nature；　of　which　poetry　has

spoken；at　least；　I　have　learned　some　words　and　phrases　of　it。　　I

will　translate　some　of　these　as　I　best　may　into　common　speech。



〃The　OCEAN　says　to　the　dweller　on　its　shores：



You　are　neither　welcome　nor　unwelcome。　　I　do　not　trouble　myself　with

the　living　tribes　that　come　down　to　my　waters。　　I　have　my　own　people；

of　an　older　race　than　yours；　that　grow　to　mightier　dimensions　than

your　mastodons　and　elephants；　more　numerous　than　all　the　swarms　that

fill　the　air　or　move　over　the　thin　crust　of　the　earth。　　Who　are　you

that　build　your　palaces　on　my　margin？　　I　see　your　white　faces　as

I　saw　the　dark　faces　of　the　tribes　that　came　before　you；　as　I　shall

look　upon　the　unknown　family　of　mankind　that　will　come　after　you。

And　what　is　your　whole　human　family　but　a　parenthesis　in　a　single

page　of　my　history？　　The　raindrops　stereotyped　themselves　on　my

beaches　before　a　living　creature　left　his　footprints　there。　　This

horseshoe…crab　I　fling　at　your　feet　is　of　older　lineage　than　your

Adam；perhaps；　indeed；　you　count　your　Adam　as　one　of　his

descendants。　　What　feeling　have　I　for　you？　　Not　scorn；　not　hatred；

not　love；not　loathing。　　No！…indifference；blank　indifference　to

you　and　your　affairs　that　is　my　feeling；　say　rather　absence　of

feeling；　as　regards　you。…Oh　yes；　I　will　lap　your　feet；　I　will　cool

you　in　the　hot　summer　days；　I　will　bear　you　up　in　my　strong　arms；　I

will　rock　you　on　my　rolling　undulations；　like　a　babe　in　his　cradle。

Am　I　not　gentle？　　Am　I　not　kind？　　Am　I　not　harmless？　　But　hark！　　The

wind　is　rising；　and　the　wind　and　I　are　rough　playmates！　　What　do　you

say　to　my　voice　now？　　Do　you　see　my　foaming　lips？　　Do　you　feel　the

rocks　tremble　as　my　huge　billows　crash　against　them？　　Is　not　my　anger

terrible　as　I　dash　your　argosy；　your　thunder…bearing　frigate；　into

fragments；　as　you　would　crack　an　eggshell？　No；　not　anger；　deaf；

blind；　unheeding　indifference；that　is　all。　　Out　of　me　all　things

arose；　sooner　or　later；　into　me　all　things　subside。　　All　changes

around　me；　I　change　not。　　I　look　not　at　you；　vain　man；　and　your　frail

transitory　concerns；　save　in　momentary　glimpses：　I　look　on　the　white

face　of　my　dead　mistress；　whom　I　follow　as　the　bridegroom　follows　the

bier　of　her　who　has　changed　her　nuptial　raiment　for　the　shroud。



〃Ye　whose　thoughts　are　of　eternity；　come　dwell　at　my　side。

Continents　and　islands　grow　old；　and　waste　and　disappear。　　The

hardest　rock　crumbles；　vegetable　and　animal　kingdoms　come　into　being；

wax　great；　decline；　and　perish；　to　give　way　to　others；　even　as　human

dynasties　and　nations　and　races　come　and　go。　　Look　on　me！　　〃Time

writes　no　wrinkle〃　on　my　forehead。　　Listen　to　me！　　All　tongues　are

spoken　on　my　shores；　but　I　have　only　one　language：　the　winds　taught

me　their　vowels　the　crags　and　the　sands　schooled　me　in　my　rough　or

smooth　consonants。　　Few　words　are　mine　but　I　have　whispered　them　and

sung　them　and　shouted　them　to　men　of　all　tribes　from　the　time　when

the　first　wild　wanderer　strayed　into　my　awful　presence。　　Have　you　a

grief　that　gnaws　at　your　heart…strings？　　Come　with　it　to　my　shore；　as

of　old　the　priest　of　far…darting　Apollo　carried　his　rage　and　anguish

to　the　margin　of　the　loud…roaring　sea。　　There；　if　anywhere　you　will

forget　your　private　and　short…lived　woe；　for　my　voice　speaks　to　the

infinite　and　the　eternal　in　your　consciousness。'





〃To　him　who　loves　the　pages　of　human　history；　who　listens　to　the

voices　of　the　world　about　him；　who　frequents　the　market　and　the

thoroughfare；　who　lives　in　the　study　of　time　and　its　accidents　rather

than　in　the　deeper　emotions；　in　abstract　speculation　and　spiritual

contemplation；　the　RIVER　addresses　itself　as　his　natural　companion。



〃Come　live　with　me。　　I　am　active；　cheerful；　communicative；　a　natural

talker　and　story…teller。　　I　am　not　noisy；　like　the　ocean；　except

occasionally　when　I　am　rudely　interrupted；　or　when　I　stumble　and　get

a　fall。　　When　I　am　silent　you　can　still　have　pleasure　in　watching　my

changing　features。　　My　idlest　babble；　when　I　am　toying　with　the

trifles　that　fall　in　my　way；　if　not　very　full　of　meaning；　is　at　least

musical。　　I　am　not　a　dangerous　friend；　like　the　ocean；　no　highway　is

absolutely　safe；　but　my　nature　is　harmless；　and　the　storms　that　strew

the　beaches　with　wrecks　cast　no　ruins　upon　my　flowery　borders。　　Abide

with　me；　and　you　shall　not　die　of　thirst；　like　the　forlorn　wretches

left　to　the　mercies　of　the　pitiless　salt　waves。　　Trust　yourself　to

me；　and　I　will　carry　you　far　on　your　journey；　if　we　are　travelling　to

the　same　point　of　the　compass。　　If　I　sometimes　run　riot　and　overflow

your　meadows；　I　leave　fertility　behind　me　when　I　withdraw　to　my

natural　channel。　　Walk　by　my　side　toward　the　place　of　my　destination。

I　will　keep　pace　with　you；　and　you　shall　feel　my　presence　with　you　as

that　of　a　self…conscious　being　like　yourself。　　You　will　find　it　hard

to　be　miserable　in　my　company；　I　drain　you　of　ill…conditioned

thoughts　as　I　carry　away　the　refuse　of　your　dwelling　and　its　grounds：





But　to　him　whom　the　ocean　chills　and　crushes　with　its　sullen

indifference；　and　the　river　disturbs　with　its　never…pausing　and

never…ending　story；　the　silent　LAKE　shall　be　a　refuge　and　a　place　of

rest　for　his　soul。



〃'Vex　not　yourself　with　thoughts　too　vast　for　your　limited

faculties；'　it　says；　'yield　not　yourself　to　the　babble　of　the　running

stream。　　Leave　the　ocean；　which　cares　nothing　for　you　or　any　living

thing　that　walks　the　solid　earth；　leave　the　river；　too　busy　with　its

own　errand；　too　talkative　about　its　own　affairs；　and　find　peace　with

me；　whose　smile　will　cheer　you；　whose　whisper　will　soothe　you。　　Come

to　me　when　the　morning　sun　blazes　across　my　bosom　like　a　golden

baldric；　come　to　me　in　the　still　midnight；　when　I　hold　the　inverted

firmament