博炮作文网

第8部分（第1页）

an　put　to　himself。　You　read　for　your　own　pleasure；　for　your　solace　and　strengthening。　Pleasure；　then；　purely　selfish？　Solace　which　endures　for　an　hour；　and　strengthening　for　no　bat？　Ay；　but　I　know；　I　know。　With　what　heart　should　I　live　here　in　my　cottage；　waiting　for　lifes　end；　were　it　not　for　those　hours　of　seeming　idle　reading？

I　think　sometimes；　how　good　it　were　had　I　some　one　by　me　to　listen　when　I　am　tempted　to　read　a　passage　aloud。　Yes；　but　is　there　any　mortal　in　the　whole　world　upon　whom　I　could　invariably　depend　for　sympathetic　understanding？……nay；　who　would　even　generally　be　at　one　with　me　in　my　appreciation。　Such　harmony　of　intelligences　is　the　rarest　thing。　All　through　life　we　long　for　it：　the　desire　drives　us；　like　a　demon；　into　waste　places；　too　often　ends　by　plunging　us　into　mud　and　morass。　And；　after　all；　we　learn　that　the　vision　was　illusory。　To　every　man　is　it　decreed：　thou　shalt　live　alone。　Happy　they　who　imagine　that　they　have　escaped　the　mon　lot；　happy；　whilst　they　imagine　it。　Those　to　whom　no　such　happiness　has　ever　been　granted　at　least　avoid　the　bitterest　of　disillusions。　And　is　it　not　always　good　to　face　a　truth；　however　disfortable？　The　mind　which　renounces；　once　and　for　ever；　a　futile　hope；　has　its　pensation　in　ever…growing　calm。

XXI

All　about　my　garden　to…day　the　birds　are　loud。　To　say　that　the　air　is　filled　with　their　song　gives　no　idea　of　the　ceaseless　piping；　whistling；　trilling；　which　at　moments　rings　to　heaven　in　a　triumphant　unison；　a　wild　accord。　Now　and　then　I　notice　one　of　the　smaller　songsters　who　seems　to　strain　his　throat　in　a　madly　joyous　endeavour　to　out…carol　all　the　rest。　It　is　a　chorus　of　praise　such　as　none　other　of　earths　children　have　the　voice　or　the　heart　to　utter。　As　I　listen；　I　am　carried　away　by　its　glorious　rapture；　my　being　melts　in　the　tenderness　of　an　impassioned　joy；　my　eyes　are　dim　with　I　know　not　what　profound　humility。

XXII

Were　one　to　look　at　the　literary　journals　only；　and　thereafter　judge　of　the　time；　it　would　be　easy　to　persuade　oneself　that　civilization　had　indeed　made　great　and　solid　progress；　and　that　the　world　stood　at　a　very　hopeful　stage　of　enlightenment。　Week　after　week；　I　glance　over　these　pages　of　crowded　advertisement；　I　see　a　great　many　publishing…houses　zealously　active　in　putting　forth　every　kind　of　book；　new　and　old；　I　see　names　innumerable　of　workers　in　every　branch　of　literature。　Much　that　is　announced　declares　itself　at　once　of　merely　ephemeral　import；　or　even　of　no　import　at　all；　but　what　masses　of　print　which　invite　the　attention　of　thoughtful　or　studious　folk！　To　the　multitude　is　offered　a　long　succession　of　classic　authors；　in　beautiful　form；　at　a　minimum　cost；　never　were　such　treasures　so　cheaply　and　so　gracefully　set　before　all　who　can　prize　them。　For　the　wealthy；　there　are　volumes　magnificent；　lordly　editions；　works　of　art　whereon　have　been　lavished　care　and　skill　and　expense　incalculable。　Here　is　exhibited　the　learning　of　the　whole　world　and　of　all　the　ages；　be　a　mans　study　what　it　will；　in　these　columns；　at　one　time　or　another　he　shall　find　that　which　appeals　to　him。　Here　are　labours　of　the　erudite；　exercised　on　every　subject　that　falls　within　learnings　scope。　Science　brings　forth　its　newest　discoveries　in　earth　and　heaven；　it　speaks　to　the　philosopher　in　his　solitude；　and　to　the　crowd　in　the　market…place。　Curious　pursuits　of　the　mind　at　leisure　are　represented　in　publications　numberless；　trifles　and　oddities　of　intellectual　savour；　gatherings　from　every　byway　of　human　interest。　For　other　moods　there　are　the　fabulists；　to　tell　truth；　they　monly　hold　the　place　of　honour　in　these　varied　lists。　Who　shall　count　them？　Who　shall　calculate　their　readers？　Builders　of　verse　are　many；　yet　the　observer　will　note　that　contemporary　poets　have　but　an　inconspicuous　standing　in　this　index　of　the　public　taste。　Travel；　on　the　other　hand；　is　largely　represented；　the　general　appetite　for　information　about　lands　remote　would　appear　to　be　only　less　keen　than　for　the　adventures　of　romance。

With　these　pages　before　ones　eyes；　must　one　not　needs　believe　that　things　of　the　mind　are　a　prime　concern　of　our　day？　Who　are　the　purchasers　of　these　volumes　ever　pouring　from　the　press？　How　is　it　possible　for　so　great　a　merce　to　flourish　save　as　a　consequence　of　national　eagerness　in　this　intellectual　domain？　Surely　one　must　take　for　granted　that　throughout　the　land；　in　town　and　country；　private　libraries　are　growing　apace；　that　by　the　people　at　large　a　great　deal　of　time　is　devoted　to　reading；　that　literary　ambition　is　one　of　the　monest　spurs　to　effort？

It　is　the　truth。　All　this　may　be　said　of　contemporary　England。　But　is　it　enough　to　set　ones　mind　at　ease　regarding　the　outlook　of　our　civilization？

Two　things　must　be　remembered。　However　considerable　this　literary　traffic；　regarded　by　itself；　it　is　relatively　of　small　extent。　And；　in　the　second　place；　literary　activity　is　by　no　means　an　invariable　proof　of　that　mental　attitude　which　marks　the　truly　civilized　man。

Lay　aside　the　〃literary　organ；〃　which　appears　once　a　week；　and　take　up　the　newspaper；　which　es　forth　every　day；　morning　and　evening。　Here　you　get　the　true　proportion　of　things。　Read　your　daily　news…　sheet……that　which　costs　threepence　or　that　which　costs　a　halfpenny……　and　muse　upon　the　impression　it　leaves。　It　may　be　that　a　few　books　are　〃noticed〃；　granting　that　the　〃notice〃　is　in　any　way　noticeable；　pare　the　space　it　occupies　with　that　devoted　to　the　material　interests　of　life：　you　have　a　gauge　of　the　real　importance　of　intellectual　endeavour　to　the　people　at　large。　No；　the　public　which　reads；　in　any　sense　of　the　word　worth　considering；　is　very；　very　small；　the　public　which　would　feel　no　lack　if　all　book…printing　ceased　to…morrow；　is　enormous。　These　announcements　of　learned　works　which　strike　one　as　so　encouraging；　are　addressed；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　to　a　few　thousand　persons；　scattered　all　over　the　English…　speaking　world。　Many　of　the　most　valuable　books　slowly　achieve　the　sale　of　a　few　hundred　copies。　Gather　from　all　the　ends　of　the　British　Empire　the　men　and　women　who　purchase　grave　literature　as　a　matter　of　course；　who　habitually　seek　it　in　public　libraries；　in　short　who　regard　it　as　a　necessity　of　life；　and　I　am　much　mistaken　if　they　could　not　fortably　assemble　in　the　Albert　Hall。

But　even　granting　this；　is　it　not　an　obvious　fact　that　our　age　tends　to　the　civilized　habit　of　mind；　as　displayed　in　a　love　for　intellectual　things？　Was　there　ever　a　time　which　saw　the　literature　of　knowledge　and　of　the　emotions　so　widely　distributed？　Does　not　the　minority　of　the　truly　intelligent　exercise　a　vast　and　profound　influence？　Does　it　not　in　truth　lead　the　way；　however　slowly　and　irregularly　the　multitude　may　follow？

I　should　like　to　believe　it。　When　gloomy　evidence　is　thrust　upon　me；　I　often　say　to　myself：　Think　of　the　frequency　of　the　reasonable　man；　think　of　him　everywhere　labouring　to　spread　the　light；　how　is　it　possible　that　such　efforts　should　be　overborne　by　forces　of　blind　brutality；　now　that　the　human　race　has　got　so　far？……Yes；　yes；　but　this　mortal　whom　I　caress　as　reasonable；　as　enlightened　and　enlightening；　this　author；　investigator；　lecturer；　or　studious　gentleman；　to　whose　coat…tails　I　cling；　does　he　always　represent　justice　and　peace；　sweetness　of　manners；　purity　of　life……all　the　things　which　makes　for　true　civilization？　Here　is　a　fallacy　of　bookish　thought。　Experience　offers　proof　on　every　hand　that　vigorous　mental　life　may　be　but　one　side　of　a　personality；　of　which　the　other　is　moral　barbarism。　A　man　may　be　a　fine　archaeologist；　and　yet　have　no　sympathy　with　human　ideals。　The　historian；　the　biographer；　even　the　poet；　may　be　a　money…market　gambler；　a　social　toady；　a　clamorous　Chauvinist；　or　an　unscrupulous　wire…puller。　As　for　〃leaders　of　science；〃　what　optimist　will　dare　to　proclaim　them　on　the　side　of　the　gentle　virtues？　And　if　one　must　needs　think　in　this　way　of　those　who　stand　forth；　professed　instructors　and　inspirers；　what　of　those　who　merely　listen？　The　reading…public……oh；　the　reading…public！　Hardly　will　a　prudent　statistician　venture　to　declare　that　one　in　every　score　of　those　who　actually　read　sterling　books　do　so　with　prehension　of　their　author。　These　dainty　series　of　noble　and　delightful　works；　which　have　so　seemingly　wide　an　acceptance；　think　you　they　vouch　for　true　appreciation　in　all　who　buy　them？　Remember　those　who　purchase　to　follow　the　fashion；　to　impose　upon　their　neighbour；　or　even　to　flatter　themselves；　think　of　those　who　wish　to　make　cheap　presents；　and　those　who　are　merely　pleased　by　the　outer　aspect　of　the　volume。　Above　all；　bear　in　mind　that　busy　throng　whose　zeal　is　according　neither　to　knowledge　nor　to　conviction；　the　host　of　the　half…educated；　characteristic　and　peril　of　our　time。　They；　indeed；　purchase　and　purchase　largely。　Heaven　forbid　that　I　should　not　recognize　the　few　among　them　whose　bent　of　brain　and　of　conscience　justifies　their　fervour；　to　such……the　ten　in　ten　thousand……be　all　aid　and　brotherly　solace！　But　the　glib　many；　the　perky　mispronouncers　of　titles　and　of　authors　names；　the　twanging　murderers　of　rhythm；　the　maulers　of　the　uncut　edge　at　sixpence　extra；　the　ready…reckoners　of　bibliopolic　discount……am　I　to　see　in　these　a　witness　of　my　hope　for　the　century　to　e？

I　am　told　that　their　semi…education　will　be　integrated。　We　are　in　a　transition　stage；　between　the　bad　old　time　when　only　a　few　had　academic　privileges；　and　that　happy　future　which　will　see　all　men　liberally　instructed。　Unfortunately　for　this　argument；　education　is　a　thing　of　which　only　the　few　are　capable；　teach　as　you　will；　only　a　small　percentage　will　profit　by　your　most　zealous　energy。　On　an　ungenerous　soil　it　is　vain　to　look　for　rich　crops。　Your　average　mortal　will　be　your　average　mortal　still：　and　if　he　grow　conscious　of　power；　if　he　bees　vocal　and　self…assertive；　if　he　get　into　his　hands　all　the　material　resources　of　the　country；　why；　you　have　a　state　of　things　such　as　at　present　looms　menacingly　before　every　Englishman　blessed……or　cursed……with　an　unpopular　spirit。

XXIII

Every　morning　when　I　awake；　I　thank　heaven　for　silence。　This　is　my　orison。　I　remember　the　London　days　when　sleep　was　broken　by　clash　and　clang；　by　roar　and　shriek；　and　when　my　first　sense　on　returning　to　consciousness　was　hatred　of　the　life　about　me。　Noises　of　wood　and　metal；　clattering　of　wheels；　banging　of　implements；　jangling　of　bells……all　such　things　are　bad　enough；　but　worse　still　is　the　clamorous　human　voice。　Nothing　on　earth　is　more　irritating　to　me　than　a　bellow　or　scream　of　idiot　mirth；　nothing　more　hateful　than　a　shout　or　yell　of　brutal　anger。　Were　it　possible；　I　would　never　again　hear　the　utterance　of　a　human　tongue；　save　from　those　few　who　are　dear　to　me。

Here；　wake　at　what　hour　I　may；　early　or　late；　I　lie　amid　gracious　stillness。　Perchance　a　horses　hoof　rings　rhythmically　upon　the　road；　perhaps　a　dog　barks　from　a　neighbour　farm；　it　may　be　that　there　es　the　far；　soft　murmur　of　a　train　from　the　other　side　of　Exe；　but　these　are　almost　the　only　sounds　that　could　force　themselves　upon　my　ear。　A　voice；　at　any　time　of　the　day；　is　the　rarest　thing。

But　there　is　the　rustle　of　branches　in　the　morning　breeze；　there　is　the　music　of　a　sunny　shower　against　the　window；　there　is　the　matin　song　of　birds。　Several　times　lately　I　have　lain　wake