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第28章 让心灵去旅行4（第1页）

soulofajourneyisliberty，erfectliberty，tothink，feel，do，justasoneleases。Wegoajourneychieflytobefreeofallimedimentsandofallinconveniences;toleaveourselvesbehind，muchmoretogetridofothers。ItisbecauseIwantalittlebreathing-sacetomuseonindifferentmatters，whereContemlation“Maylumeherfeathersandletgrowherwings，ThatinthevariousbustleofresortWerealltooruffled，andsometimesimaired，”thatIabsentmyselffromthetownforawhile，withoutfeelingatalossthemomentIamleftbymyself。Insteadofafriendinaost-chaiseorinaTilbury，toexchangegoodthingswith，andvarythesamestaletoicsoveragain，foronceletmehaveatrucewithimertinence。Givemetheclearblueskyovermyhead，andthegreenturfbeneathmyfeet，awindingroadbeforeme，andthreehours’marchtodinner—andthentothinking!ItishardifIcannotstartsomegameontheseloneheaths。Ilaugh，Irun，Ilea，Isingforjoy。FromtheointofyonderrollingcloudIlungeintomyastbeing，andrevelthere，asthesun-burntIndianlungesheadlongintothewavethatwaftshimtohisnativeshore。Thenlong-forgottenthings，like“sunkenwrackandsunlesstreasuries，”burstuonmyeagersight，andIbegintofeel，think，andbemyselfagain。Insteadofanawkwardsilence，brokenbyattemtsatwitordullcommon-lacesmineisthatundisturbedsilenceoftheheartwhichaloneisrefecteloquence。Noonelikesuns，alliterations，antitheses，argument，andanalysisbetterthanIdo;butIsometimeshadratherbewithoutthem。“Leave，oh，leavemetomyreose!”Ihavejustnowotherbusinessinhand，whichwouldseemidletoyou，butiswithme“verystuffoftheconscience。”Isnotthiswildrosesweetwithoutacomment?Doesnotthisdaisyleatomyheartsetinitscoatofemerald?YetifIweretoexlaintoyouthecircumstancethathassoendearedittome，youwouldonlysmile。HadInotbetterthenkeeittomyself，andletitservemetobroodover，fromheretoyondercraggyoint，andfromthenceonwardtothefar-distanthorizon?Ishouldbebutbadcomanyallthatway，andthereforereferbeingalone。Ihavehearditsaidthatyoumay，whenthemoodyfitcomeson，walkorrideonbyyourself，andindulgeyourreceives。Butthislookslikeabreachofmanners，aneglectofothers，andyouarethinkingallthetimethatyououghttorejoinyourarty。“Outuonsuchhalf-facedfellowshi，”sayI。Iliketobeeitherentirelytomyself，orentirelyatthedisosalofothers;totalkorbesilent，towalkorsitstill，tobesociableorsolitary。IwasleasedwithanobservationofMr。Cobbett’s，thathethought“itabadFrenchcustomtodrinkourwinewithourmeals，andthatanEnglishmanoughttodoonlyonethingatatime。”SoIcannottalkandthink，orindulgeinmelancholymusingandlivelyconversationbyfitsandstarts。

“Letmehaveacomanionofmyway，”saysSterne，“Wereitbuttoremarkhowtheshadowslengthenasthesundeclines。”Itisbeautifullysaid;but，inmyoinion，thiscontinualcomaringofnotesinterfereswiththeinvoluntaryimressionofthingsuonthemind，andhurtsthesentiment。Ifyouonlyhintwhatyoufeelinakindofdumbshow，itisinsiid;ifyouhavetoexlainit，itismakingatoilofaleasure。Youcannotreadthebookofnaturewithoutbeingeretuallyuttothetroubleoftranslatingitforthebenefitofothers。Iamforthissyntheticalmethodonajourneyinreferencetotheanalytical。Iamcontenttolayinastockofideasthen，andtoexamineandanatomisethemafterwards。Iwanttoseemyvaguenotionsfloatlikethedownofthethistlebeforethebreeze，andnottohavethementangledinthebriarsandthornsofcontroversy。Foronce，Iliketohaveitallmyownway;andthisisimossibleunlessyouarealone，orinsuchcomanyasIdonotcovet。Ihavenoobjectiontoargueaointwithanyonefortwentymilesofmeasuredroad，butnotforleasure。Ifyouremarkthescentofabeanfieldcrossingtheroad，erhasyourfellow-travellerhasnosmell。Ifyouointtoadistantobject，erhasheisshortsighted，andhastotakeouthisglasstolookatit。Thereisafeelingintheair，atoneinthecolorofacloud，whichhitsyourfancy，buttheeffectofwhichyouareunabletoaccountfor。Thereisthennosymathy，butanuneasycarvingafterit，andadissatisfactionwhichursuesyouontheway，andintheendrobablyroducesill-humor。NowIneverquarrelwithmyself，andtakeallmyownconclusionsforgrantedtillIfinditnecessarytodefendthenagainstobjections。

Itisnotmerelythatyoumaynotbeofaccordontheobjectsandcircumstancesthatresentthemselvesbeforeyou—thesemayrecallanumberofobjects，andleadtoassociationstoodelicateandrefinedtobeossiblycommunicatedtoothers。YettheseIlovetocherish，andsometimesstillfondlyclutchthem，whenIcanescaefromthethrongtodoso。Togivewaytoourfeelingbeforecomanyseemsextravaganceoraffectation;andontheotherhand，tohavetounravelthismysteryofourbeingateveryturn，andtomakeotherstakeanequalinterestinit（otherwisetheendisnotanswered），isatasktowhichfewarecometent。Wemust“giveitanunderstanding，butnotongue。”MyoldfriendColeridge，however，coulddoboth。Hecouldgooninthemostdelightfulexlanatorywayoverhillanddaleasummer’sdayandconvertalandscaeintoadidacticoemoraPindaricode。“Hetalkedfarabovesinging。”IfIcouldsoclothemyideasinsoundingandflowingwords，Imighterhaswishtohavesomeonewithmetoadmiretheswellingtheme;orIcouldbemorecontent，wereitossibleformestilltohearhisechoingvoiceinthewoodsofAll-Fox-den。Theyhad“thatfinemadnessinthemwhichourfirstoetshad”;andiftheycouldhavebeencaughtbysomerareinstrument，wouldhavebreathedsuchstainsasthefollowing:

“Herebewoodsasgreen

Asany，airlikewiseasfreshandsweet

AswhensmoothZehyruslaysonthefleet

Faceofthecurledstreams，withflowers

"asmany

Astheyoungsringgives，andaschoiceasany;

Herebeallnewdelights，coolstreamandwells，

Arbourso’ergrownwithwoodbine，cavesanddells;

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