a mortal antipathy-第16章

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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　like　a　cup　brimming　with　jewels；　nor　spill　one　star　of　all

the　constellations　that　float　in　my　ebon　goblet。　　Do　you　know　the

charm　of　melancholy？　　Where　will　you　find　a　sympathy　like　mine　in

your　hours　of　sadness？　　Does　the　ocean　share　your　grief？　　Does　the

river　listen　to　your　sighs？　　The　salt　wave；　that　called　to　you　from

under　last　month's　full　moon；　to…day　is　dashing　on　the　rocks　of

Labrador；　the　stream；　that　ran　by　you　pure　and　sparkling；　has

swallowed　the　poisonous　refuse　of　a　great　city；　and　is　creeping　to

its　grave　in　the　wide　cemetery　that　buries　all　things　in　its　tomb　of

liquid　crystal。　　It　is　true　that　my　waters　exhale　and　are　renewed

from　one　season　to　another；　but　are　your　features　the　same；

absolutely　the　same；　from　year　to　year？　　We　both　change；　but　we　know

each　other　through　all　changes。　　Am　I　not　mirrored　in　those　eyes　of

yours？　　And　does　not　Nature　plant　me　as　an　eye　to　behold　her　beauties

while　she　is　dressed　in　the　glories　of　leaf　and　flower；　and　draw　the

icy　lid　over　my　shining　surface　when　she　stands　naked　and　ashamed　in

the　poverty　of　winter？'



〃I　have　had　strange　experiences　and　sad　thoughts　in　the　course　of　a

life　not　very　long；　but　with　a　record　which　much　longer　lives　could

not　match　in　incident。　　Oftentimes　the　temptation　has　come　over　me

with　dangerous　urgency　to　try　a　change　of　existence；　if　such　change

is　a　part　of　human　destiny；to　seek　rest；　if　that　is　what　we　gain　by

laying　down　the　burden　of　life。　　I　have　asked　who　would　be　the　friend

to　whom　I　should　appeal　for　the　last　service　I　should　have　need　of。

Ocean　was　there；　all　ready；　asking　no　questions；　answering　none。

What　strange　voyages；　downward　through　its　glaucous　depths；　upwards

to　its　boiling　and　frothing　surface；　wafted　by　tides；　driven　by

tempests；　disparted　by　rude　agencies；　one　remnant　whitening　on　the

sands　of　a　northern　beach；　one　perhaps　built　into　the　circle　of　a

coral　reef　in　the　Pacific；　one　settling　to　the　floor　of　the　vast

laboratory　where　continents　are　built；　to　emerge　in　far…off　ages！

What　strange　companions　for　my　pall…bearers！　　Unwieldy　sea…monsters；

the　stories　of　which　are　counted　fables　by　the　spectacled　collectors

who　think　their　catalogues　have　exhausted　nature；　naked…eyed

creatures；　staring；　glaring；　nightmare…like　spectres　of　the　ghastly…

green　abysses；　pulpy　islands；　with　life　in　gelatinous　immensity；

what　a　company　of　hungry　heirs　at　every　ocean　funeral！　　No！　　No！

Ocean　claims　great　multitudes；　but　does　not　invite　the　solitary　who

would　fain　be　rid　of　himself。



'Shall　I　seek　a　deeper　slumber　at　the　bottom　of　the　lake　I　love　than

I　have　ever　found　when　drifting　idly　over　its　surface？　　No；　again。　　I

do　not　want　the　sweet；　clear　waters　to　know　me　in　the　disgrace　of

nature；　when　life；　the　faithful　body…servant；　has　ceased　caring　for

me。　　That　must　not　be。　　The　mirror　which　has　pictured　me　so　often

shall　never　know　me　as　an　unwelcome　object。



〃If　I　must　ask　the　all…subduing　element　to　be　my　last　friend；　and

lead　me　out　of　my　prison；　it　shall　be　the　busy；　whispering；　not

unfriendly；　pleasantly　companionable　river。





〃But　Ocean　and　River　and　Lake　have　certain　relations　to　the　periods

of　human　life　which　they　who　are　choosing　their　places　of　abode

should　consider。　　Let　the　child　play　upon　the　seashore。　　The　wide

horizon　gives　his　imagination　room　to　grow　in；　untrammelled。　　That

background　of　mystery；　without　which　life　is　a　poor　mechanical

arrangement；　is　shaped　and　colored；　so　far　as　it　can　have　outline；　or

any　hue　but　shadow；　on　a　vast　canvas；　the　contemplation　of　which

enlarges　and　enriches　the　sphere　of　consciousness。　　The　mighty　ocean

is　not　too　huge　to　symbolize　the　aspirations　and　ambitions　of　the　yet

untried　soul　of　the　adolescent。



〃The　time　will　come　when　his　indefinite　mental　horizon　has　found　a

solid　limit；　which　shuts　his　prospect　in　narrower　bounds　than　he

would　have　thought　could　content　him　in　the　years　of　undefined

possibilities。　　Then　he　will　find　the　river　a　more　natural　intimate

than　the　ocean。　　It　is　individual；　which　the　ocean；　with　all　its

gulfs　and　inlets　and　multitudinous　shores；　hardly　seems　to　be。　　It

does　not　love　you　very　dearly；　and　will　not　miss　you　much　when　you

disappear　from　its　margin；　but　it　means　well　to　you；　bids　you　good…

morning　with　its　coming　waves；　and　good…evening　with　those　which　are

leaving。　　It　will　lead　your　thoughts　pleasantly　away；　upwards　to　its

source；　downwards　to　the　stream　to　which　it　is　tributary；　or　the　wide

waters　in　which　it　is　to　lose　itself。　　A　river；　by　choice；　to　live　by

in　middle　age。



〃In　hours　of　melancholy　reflection；　in　those　last　years　of　life　which

have　little　left　but　tender　memories；　the　still　companionship　of　the

lake；　embosomed　in　woods；　sheltered；　fed　by　sweet　mountain　brooks　and

hidden　springs；　commends　itself　to　the　wearied　and　saddened　spirit。

I　am　not　thinking　of　those　great　inland　seas；　which　have　many　of　the

features　and　much　of　the　danger　that　belong　to　the　ocean；　but　of

those　'ponds；'　as　our　countrymen　used　to　call　them　until　they　were

rechristened　by　summer　visitors；　beautiful　sheets　of　water　from　a

hundred　to　a　few　thousand　acres　in　extent；　scattered　like　raindrops

over　the　map　of　our　Northern　sovereignties。　　The　loneliness　of

contemplative　old　age　finds　its　natural　home　in　the　near　neighborhood

of　one　of　these　tranquil　basins。



Nature　does　not　always　plant　her　poets　where　they　belong；　but　if　we

look　carefully　their　affinities　betray　themselves。　　The　youth　will

carry　his　Byron　to　the　rock　which　overlooks　the　ocean　the　poet　loved

so　well。　　The　man　of　maturer　years　will　remember　that　the　sonorous

couplets　of　Pope　which　ring　in　his　ears　were　written　on　the　banks　of

the　Thames。　　The　old　man；　as　he　nods　over　the　solemn　verse　of

Wordsworth；　will　recognize　the　affinity　between　the　singer　and　the

calm　sheet　that　lay　before　him　as　he　wrote；the　stainless　and　sl